Date: 2022-08-30 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy
Description: Can Eight handle his biggest challenge yet? Civilization. He’s carved a home out in the wilderness, and met its inhabitants—killing some and making friends with others. Things are looking downright cozy, in a bushcraft kind of way, but there’s a village to the east with tools, resources, and new magic to learn. That’s all incredibly tempting when living among the wild things. Where there are people though, there are complications, including the murder-y kind. Add a few ghosts, giant beasts, and a new god too, and... well... life’s hard for an old man trapped in a young boy’s body. And things a

EIGHT

– Book 2 –

The Way of the Hunter
by

Samer Rabadi

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Copyright © 2022 by Samer Rabadi

Cover art by Tithi Luadthong
www.samerrabadi.com

For Mary, my heart now and always.

I’m grateful for the communities on Royal Road and Patreon for their support. They’ve kept me writing when things got hard.

Dear reader, every book is a journey. Thank you for joining me on another one.

CONTENTS

The Quest for Donuts

Voorhei

I Choose

Handled

Initiation I

Initiation II

A Little Pot of Questions

Qi Intent

Gift and Curse

The Hunter’s Lodge Gossips

Gift and Opportunity

An Uncomfortable Talent

Ghosts and Consequences

Making Deals, Making Donuts

Growing Pains

Knowledge is Power

Returning

The Hunt Day

Don’t Blynx

Truth and Visitations

A Weapon at the Ready

A Spy at the Glen

An Unexpected Gift

Grace and Memory

Eight Saves the World

Life and Everything In Between

Bull Hunt

City Games, Village Games

An Interrogation in Two Parts

A Day in the Life

Broken Dreams

The Truth, Guaranteed

Stories and Complications

An Arrow Flies True

Found and Lost

The Calm Before

The Glen Disturbed

Memory’s Voices

Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt I

Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt II

Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt III

A Field of Spears

The King of the Forest I

The King of the Forest II

The King of the Forest III

Truth and Dare

Just Rewards

A Complicated Family

Perspective: Inneioleia

Perspective: Imsiikila

About the Author

1

The Quest for Donuts

I led the way, spear in hand, while behind me Billisha wore my backpack and Aluali carried my bow. We followed the stream east of Ikfael’s waterfall, down onto the flatlands below.

The trek up to this point had taken about an hour, the trees around us much the same as elsewhere in the forest—a mix of pine, maple, red cedar, bilkelet, and horotonei. I knew the names of the latter two thanks to my Status camera.

The bilkelet had black, furry bark and reddish pods hanging from its branches, while the horotonei was striped yellow, and its leaves smelled like cardamom. Both trees were unique to this world, but they’d grown familiar after being around them for a couple of months. The weeks are ten days long, so that’d be just about six weeks according to the way they measure things here. Another two weeks and it’ll be a season—a full eighty days since I woke up on a hillside just below the town we’re headed to.

There hadn’t been any dangerous encounters so far, but we were all being careful just in case. The kids were deep in Meliune’s Blessing, the weird gift from the Goddess of Compassion that helped everyone under Level 1 suppress their fears. Well, all emotions really, but in the middle of the wilderness, fear was the most urgent.

There were dangerous creatures in these woods: carnivorous plants disguised as young children, chliapp lions with sharp-clawed tentacles, kalihchi bears who played in lightning like splashing in a stream, and stranger things too that I’d only caught glimpses of.

Fortunately, the Glen that was our home had been calm since the children’s arrival. It’d been about three weeks since I’d saved the children from slavers, and there hadn’t been any animal invasions after that. Better yet, Ikfael, the spirit of the land who was effectively our landlord, had grown to accept the children. It didn’t hurt that the kids were immensely respectful of her, and often provided her with food well and beyond what was expected from the agreement made to let them stay in the Glen.

They’d charmed Ikfael—and me as well—with their hard work, their songs and dances, and the quiet ways they supported each other’s grief. Against my better judgment, I’d started thinking of them as my own kids, and it was becoming harder and harder to imagine the Glen without them. We were becoming a family, Ikfael included, and the Glen was slowly turning into a real home.

Our life was simple but satisfying: we’d fished and hunted small game, and gathered wild onions, blueberries, cranberries, beans, and squash. We’d also rebuilt the refrigerator—based on a unideer’s cold-air-magic antler—and it had been a real treat to see the surprise on the kids’ faces when the air had begun to chill for the first time. Plus, a larder full of meat and produce didn’t hurt. Not one bit.

The children and I had also assembled beds and built wooden walls to protect our cave from view. There was no chance—or not much of one, anyway—for anything to spot a campfire behind our waterfall.

It hadn’t all been manual labor either. In our downtime, the children taught me their songs, dances, and language. Billisha knew how to read and write, and she had started teaching Aluali and me the basics. And because I was so new at everything—the children had a weird theory about me being some kind of escaped kid from a possessive family—they’d also explained how the villages they were from had been set up: the families, the leadership, and so on.

As time had passed, the days grew hotter and more humid, but the waterfall kept the Glen cool; not to mention there was Ikfael’s Blessing, which moderated the temperature while we were inside the boundary of her territory.

We had entertained each other with skits and stories. The children were fans of someone named Aku the Wild Child, while I relied on the Brothers Grimm. Ikfael, though, had surprised us by letting us watch her practice making water sculptures move. Eventually, she’d taken to animating our stories.

My favorite was Little Red Riding Hood—especially the scene when the woodsman chopped open the wolf’s belly to free Red and her grandmother. For that, Ikfael had added cranberry juice to the water, and the ‘blood’ sprayed everywhere. Such a clever otter. Er… spirit.

As for the uekisheile, the sapient lichen living inside me, they’d been content to fiddle with my meridians and dantians. My qi was their playground, and while I’d often felt them paying attention to outside events—they could listen and sense qi via the tendrils they sprouted along my scalp and kept hidden under my hair—they seemed happy to spend most of their time tinkering.

All in all, life had started to settle down. The only hiccup was that Billisha and Aluali still didn’t know about either my origin or the uekisheile.

I’d thought long and hard about telling them about both, but had decided that stability was more important for the time being. The children didn’t need shocks or surprises, and I certainly didn’t want them to be afraid of me.

The uekisheile had wanted to be introduced, as soon and joyfully as possible, but I’d asked them to wait until… well, I wasn’t sure. It would just have to be some unspecified ‘later’ when the kids’ mental and emotional equilibrium wasn’t so precarious. The process of making a home had helped with that, and I felt like it would continue to do so.

We’d all still be in the Glen if it hadn’t been for Ikfael’s ever-growing demand for donuts. She’d gotten some as souvenirs from Diriktot, the Fallen God of Order, who was responsible for my presence in this world, and apparently it had been a case of love at first taste.

Anyway, I’d finally decided to humor Ikfael for three reasons. One, I owed it to her, both for saving my life on multiple occasions and letting the kids and me stay in the Glen. Two, I felt that the presence of native guides—Billisha and Aluali—should make navigating contact with civilization easier. They were originally from far south of the Glen, but at least they’d been born in this world and were a hell of a lot more familiar with the social structures, economics, and expectations than I was. And finally, three… we were out of salt.

That last reason may or may not have been the deciding factor. One thing I’d say for sure, though, salt made everything taste so much better.

About another hour’s careful travel after hitting the flatlands, we came across an area cleared of trees, with only stumps left behind. A meadow lay on the other side, and the grass rustled yellow gold in the summer sun.

A group of people swung scythes in tandem to cut the long, dry grass. Behind them, children gathered it and tied it into bundles, while a man and woman stood watch nearby. One held a bow, the other a spear.

Past the meadow was farmland, with only about a third sown with crops. The grain looked like corn, and together with the vegetables being grown they made a patchwork of the cultivated land. The rest appeared to have been left fallow.

Beyond the meadow and farmland, the ground sloped up into a hill topped by a walled village. I couldn’t see much over the wall, just a point that looked like the top of a pyramid. That surprised me, but it shouldn’t have. Pyramids were a common historical feature back in my old world. Why wouldn’t they be here?

Don’t get distracted, I thought to myself. First things first, let’s check the guards. Both looked young, maybe in their late teens or early twenties. When I used the Status camera on them, I saw:

Haoleise Kiielegsson (Human)

Talents: Keen-Eyed, Natural Archer

Mulallamu the Hunter (Human)

Talents: Scout-Born, Tracker, Wild Sense

When I examined the farmers being protected, I saw they had a mix of talents: things like Green Thumb, Strong Arm, Weather Wise, Corn Whisperer, and so on. Most had two talents; only Mulallamu had three, and one person had four.

Koda the Village Head (Human, Dawn)

Talents: People-Wise, Earth-Loved, Deep Thinker, Touch of Abundance

Koda was a man in his early fifties. He stood about five foot ten inches and had a short, bushy beard. His hair was dark, streaked with gray. He looked like me and all the other people—a mix of half Hispanic and half Chinese.

The people’s clothes were more diverse though. I saw trousers and shirts, tunics and medieval hosiery, dresses, robes, kilts, and hats and hoods of varying shapes and sizes. The material looked light and airy. Cotton maybe?

The exceptions were the guards; both wore thick jackets and simple metal helmets. Haoleise had a thin shirt under his, while Mulallamu looked to be wearing buckskin. How she handled the heat, I had no idea. I was sweating up a storm just hiding in the shade of the trees.

Come on, Ollie, no more dawdling. It’s time to meet the neighbors.

I took a breath to steady my nerves, then stepped out into the open. The guards immediately spotted me, and the workers stopped their scything to look in my direction. The rustling behind me let me know that Billisha and Aluali followed me.

None of the villagers panicked, but even at a distance I could read the caution in their postures. The children working to bundle hay dropped their burdens, then quickly gathered together in neat lines. The adults held their scythes at the ready, like weapons. The two guards moved toward us. Haoleise the archer hung back, with an arrow already nocked on his bow, while Mulallamu approached us with her spear.

Billisha tapped me on the shoulder. “Time to say the words.”

Aluali looked worried, which was good. It meant that he’d let go of Meliune’s Blessing so he could talk. The three of us yelled together in Diaksh, the language spoken by—if Bilisha was to be believed—everyone in this world capable of speaking.

Yeah, apparently that’s the reality when a System helps spread skills and information. But this really wasn’t the time to think about the intricacies being in a world with role-playing-game mechanics baked into it.

The three of us said together, “I am a human striving.” Then we readied our knives and prepared to cut our forearms to show that we bled red—to prove we weren’t false ones, carnivorous plant creatures disguised as human children.

Mulallamu stopped ten yards away to look us over. Her eyes lingered on the patchwork chain shirt I wore, though her expression didn’t provide any clues to what she was thinking. “Talk for me,” she said.

I began the speech I’d rehearsed when we’d been preparing for this trip: “We are human children living to the west. We come to trade for supplies. May we speak to the village head?”

Originally, Billisha had wanted to be the one to introduce us to the guards, and then hand the discussion with the village’s leaders to me. But in my mind, that was ass backward. She knew the language and etiquette much better than me. Plus, this way I could keep an eye on things without distraction.

We must’ve convinced Mulallamu of our humanity, because she gestured for us to put away our knives, then waved to the people behind her. The villagers’ postures relaxed, their scythes resting on the ground, while the man named Koda walked forward.

Mulallamu continued to look us over, curiosity evident in her eyes. “What west? There are no villages there. All wilderness for three days. Your family is traveling? Hurt? We go get them.” She’d said more, but that was what I was able to pick out.

I had a list of prepared responses ready to go. “We are only three, and had escaped bandits to live in a cave an eighth-day west.”

Mulallamu’s face went from curiosity to shock in a blink. Before she could ask more questions, though, Koda walked up.

“This is Koda, our village head,” Mulallamu said.

“This is Billisha. She will speak for us,” I said.

Billisha stepped forward to talk to Koda. She kept her hands balled, a trick to hide her nervousness I’d shown her during one of the practice sessions for the expedition. There was a tremor in her voice too, but she kept her chin up and looked at the adults head on.

Good girl. I hid my proud smile and kept my eyes roving over the surroundings: the forest, the people who’d gone back to haying, and the farms.

According to the kids, the village head—ashaxua in Diaksh—was one of three leadership positions in any village, town, or city. They ensured the villagers were upholding their responsibilities to farm, craft, repair, and do anything else required of everyday life.

The village head reported to the aweikdu, which translated into something like land knight or warrior. In turn, the land knight enforced laws, collected taxes, and protected the people from invasions, human or otherwise. It was a high-status position, and the land knights usually had agents in the villages or towns under them to represent their interests.

Finally, there was the ahpeilliade, the world speaker. This person was responsible for the village’s spiritual life. That usually meant religious ceremonies and interpreting the World Spirit for people—aka the System. Every village had to have at least one world speaker, and towns and cities required more.

We were lucky to have run into the village head right away, since he was the perfect person to talk to about trading. The kids and I had brought a bishkawi hide with us as a sample.

Billisha was asking Aluali to unroll the hide when I spotted the most enormous dog running toward us. He had to have been the size of a horse with gray fur, a big meaty head, and thick chest. A small man rode him. He clung to a saddle with one hand, and in the other he held a spear.

Jeseidatchei (Animal)

Talents: Fighting Spirit, Neckbreaker, Never Gonna Give You Up

Musastacha Dog Rider (Human)

Talents: Featherweight, Dog Lover, Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

I put myself between the approaching dog and my kids, but no one else seemed concerned.

If anything, Billisha’s eyes shone. “It is good. We do not fight. This is a dog village, a rich village. Dogs eat a lot of food. People here will have money to buy our bishkawi hides.”

I hadn’t known the word for dog before then, but Billisha and I had worked out a system for times like this: whenever an unfamiliar word came up, she’d point to the relevant object, act out the action, and mime the concept to me on the fly. Sometimes that made for an amusing sight, but the girl was willing, and it really did help. I was much less likely to miss anything important in the rush of discussions.

In the meantime, Mulallamu ran toward the dog and rider to let them know there was no danger. The pair continued onward, though, to talk to Koda. I watched in fascination as slobber fell from the dog’s mouth in rivers. His hot, stinky breath blew all over us.

The rider’s discussion with Koda went on for some time, and the more they talked, the more Billisha frowned. Then her brows furrowed, and she interjected. I heard the words for adult and Level 3, which caused Musastacha’s jaw to drop. Then I heard Ikfael mentioned, and it was the village head’s turn to be shocked.

It was weird not being the one negotiating, but the words were spoken too fast for me to follow. Billisha was so focused on arguing with Koda and Musastacha, she couldn’t translate for me, so I read the tone and body language as best I could, ensuring I had at least some context. Both men were skeptical about the information Billisha shared with them. However, her fists were no longer balled in fear. She waved her hands in anger and demanded something, to which they reluctantly nodded.

She turned to me. “This village’s name is Voorhei. Farther east is a city named Albei. This village is rich, but they are stupid. They do not believe me when I speak of my Zasha, my benefactor. They also do not believe you are an adult. We will go to meet with the world speaker to show them.”

2

Voorhei

Billisha and Aluali muttered to each other, careful to keep their voices low so they wouldn’t be heard by the adults walking ahead. I listened with half an ear to make sure they didn’t plan anything off-script, but mostly they were looking forward to gloating at the results of the world speaker’s investigation.

The kids had warned me back at the Glen that I might need to have my spirit examined in order to prove I had the levels of an adult—and thanks to a certain otter, I felt prepared. The kids had described the process to Ikfael, who’d then animated it with water so I could understand what they were saying. This process of creating a visual guide was also how they’d filled out my vocabulary and the three of us had developed our contingency plans.

Ikfael had wanted a full dozen fish in exchange, but it was well worth the time invested. Plus, the kids and I had gotten to spend the afternoon fishing, not exactly a hardship.

Since this was my first real foray into a civilized area, I made sure to soak in the sights as Koda led us toward the village gate. The land between it and the forest was filled with farmland, pastures, and meadows. The stream leading to Ikfael’s waterfall cut through them all and passed to the north of the village’s wall.

I saw farmers working with oxen and striped horses. They weren’t zebras—I knew what those looked like. No, these were definitely dun-colored horses, just with dark gold stripes under their manes and at the rump. The fields themselves were full of corn, squash, peppers, and beans. Most promising were the potato plants—the green shrubs were a welcome sight to my french-fry-loving heart.

The wall surrounding the village was twenty feet tall. None of the stones matched—they were assembled all in a jumble—and yet the wall looked solid to my eye. It seemed to be of a similar construction to the one Woldec had erected before he died and turned into a zombie. It was also uncomfortably familiar, as was the slope leading up to the village. Yep, this is definitely the place where I first woke up in this world.

There wasn’t anyone at the gate though. “Where is the guard?” I asked.

Billisha relayed Koda’s answer: “The land knight is not visiting. No guard.”

So, I’d been unlucky that day? Unable to enter the village because the land knight responsible for this town had just happened to be here?

Not quite. There still would’ve been the villagers’ concerns about me being a false one, and I would’ve had to navigate the situation while under the effects of Meliune’s Blessing—all without knowing anything about the people, language, or culture.

I shook my head. It would’ve been a challenge no matter how I look at it.

The uekisheile picked up on the thought. Joy-growth-joy.

That’s right. I’ve come a long way since then.

The gate consisted of a series of logs strapped together and operated by a pulley system. It looked like it could be dropped at a moment’s notice, and there were holes in the ground for the sharpened ends of the logs. Currently, the holes were covered with wooden planks, probably to make passage easier for the people, their herd animals, and the couple of carts I’d seen parked out in the fields.

Inside, the walls continued and formed an enclosure. Carved into them were stylized images of ferocious dogs, their teeth bared. The art was swirly and without many hard corners, reminding me of the Mesoamerican sculptures I’d seen in my previous life.

Once we passed through a second gate, we entered a plaza-like space and the village proper. The area was full of people working, colorful chickens underfoot, and small children running free. A communal well sat in the center. I saw a young boy carrying a clay pot away from it.

I looked back to note how the entrance essentially created a choke point, which could then be defended from the plaza. And ahead, the buildings were longhouses built from wood, like log cabins except two or three times the length. They were situated so that the buildings boxed in the plaza, and the only way to travel deeper into the village was to pass between them, which we did.

The pattern from the village’s entrance repeated: as we passed by the first longhouses, we encountered two more, except they were built lengthwise to either side of us, forming a passage similar to the one we’d entered the village through. And at the end was an exit leading to another plaza.

This pattern of passages and plazas was replicated throughout the village, or at least the parts we saw. I asked Billisha about it, and she explained that it was common for neighboring families to build their longhouses this way—to form the sides of a squarish shape and use the empty space in the middle for a shared garden.

I had no doubt the layout would also help if an invader ever got past the village wall. The arrangement would force enemies through a series of chokepoints and staging areas—which, given the dangers posed by the local wildlife, wasn’t an unwise precaution.

We drew looks as we walked, and the giant dog with us seemed to be popular with the village children. A gaggle of them followed behind. They sang to him, and while our procession didn’t stop, his ears constantly turned and his tail wagged.

The village center’s plaza was surrounded by the first stone buildings I’d seen, and the middle was occupied by a small Mayan-style pyramid with an enclosure at the apex.

The adjacent buildings appeared to include residences, a communal oven, and a couple of larger buildings with what looked like courtyards peeking out from behind them. These last two buildings had signs atop their doors. One displayed a half-husked ear of corn, and the other had a crossed spear and bow.

The area was busier than I’d expected. The chatter of people talking, the motion of them entering and exiting the buildings, and the smells of different foods cooking were a shock after being in the wilderness for so long. I was particularly struck by the scent of stewing tomatoes, chili peppers, and… goat?

Koda wanted to head straight for the pyramid, but Musastacha the Dog Rider asked him to wait. He dismounted and ran into the nicest of the residences.

While we waited, a little girl approached Jeseidatchei to put a flower braid around his neck. She couldn’t reach, so Koda lifted her up. The braid wasn’t big enough, however, and sat atop the giant dog’s head like a tiara instead. She didn’t appear to mind, and gave him a pat before joining the other children.

More than one curious onlooker stopped by to ask Koda what was happening, but all I picked up were the words for visitor, world speaker, and trade. Fortunately, we weren’t kept waiting long, and Musastacha returned, bringing with him a woman who walked with… authority. Her clothes were nice too, similar to Koda’s, and she wore a necklace with a pendant shaped like a golden key.

Dwilla the Reeve (Human)

Talents: Farmer’s Roots, Nose for Trouble, Detail Oriented

Huh, reeve’s an interesting word choice by the System. In medieval Europe, the position had been held by the person who represented the interests of the noble responsible for a village, yet none of the buildings or people looked European. If anything, the vibe was heavily Mesoamerican. Is the System providing the closest translation in English?

We all stood around while Koda and Musastacha briefed Dwilla on the situation, and from the look on her face, we’d gathered another skeptic. The whole troop—minus dog—then climbed the pyramid to enter the enclosure at the top.

A stone spiral staircase led into the pyramid, and we walked down single file. The path was narrow, and there were carvings: more dogs, but I also saw horses, oxen, and people farming and hunting. There were also alcoves so that people could pass each other.

The passage expanded once we reached a round chamber at the pyramid’s base. The space was lit by a series of candlestones embedded in the walls, and at the room’s center was a pedestal with a stone disk floating above it. The air felt charged, like a storm was ready to break, and the hair on the back of my neck rose—my eyes were drawn to the disk. Five pie slices were carved into it, each slice covered in more carvings. I could almost smell the magic.

According to the kids, the disk was called a dasekua. The closest translation was ‘life stone.’ It was the heart of a village—the residents fed it mana, and in return the life stone provided boosts to the fertility and health of the village, along with stronger connections to the World Spirit for its leaders and people. Maintaining this life stone was supposed to be one of the world speaker’s most important responsibilities.

The chamber had five arched, half-sunk doorways leading out, and at that moment a woman in her thirties arrived through one of them. She wore a long, sleeveless, lavender dress, with a white blouse under it. A ruby pendant hung around her neck, and her shoulder-length hair shone in the light. The pins holding it in place sparkled.

Sheedi the World Speaker (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Fire-Touched, Skilled Interpreter, Calm, Ambitious

Sheedi listened to Billisha’s story with an amused half-smile on her face—until it reached the part about Ikfael. Then her expression turned thoughtful, and it took only a moment for her to agree to the request to have my spirit examined.

According to the kids, the traditional payment for the service was five small silver coins, which apparently held true in this village too. Each of these taak was supposed to be worth a day of a farmer’s labor, so this payment represented half a week’s wages.

Between the nameless soldier whose remains I had found buried in dragon turd, and the zombies I’d put to rest in the caves leading to the Red Room, I had: twenty taak, two eltaak, and one antaak. And since each eltaak was worth ten taak, and an antaak was worth twenty eltaak, altogether the coins were worth 240 taak, more than enough to pay the world speaker.

I handed the coins over, and Sheedi led the procession down one of the ramps to another round chamber. This one had a large circle engraved into the floor. In the center was a round stage a foot off the floor. To the right of the doorway, there was a podium with an ornate chest alongside it.

The procession gathered at the edges of the room, while I was directed to stand on the stage. Then they asked me to get naked, which I’d known was coming, but it was still embarrassing.

Billisha and Aluali had zero shame about getting naked in front of each other or me, so they’d been puzzled when I’d asked them about this part of the proceedings. The people of this world just didn’t have any hang ups about nudity. I still felt like a horse on display though.

Sheedi fiddled with whatever was at the podium, and I felt a tingle in the bottoms of my feet. The sensation crawled into my shins and legs, filled my hips, and rose through my torso to spill over into my arms before continuing up into my head. As planned, the uekisheile contracted to their smallest size and tucked themselves behind my heart dantian.

The sensation grew until it felt like ants were crawling through my meridians. I was told to hold still so I couldn’t scratch or move in any way—not that it would help. The itch was on the inside. All I could do was grit my teeth and wait until the tingling drained out through my feet.

Sheedi asked me to step down, then brought out a large sheet of whitish cloth from the chest. She glanced at it a moment, gave a little nod, and walked over to place it on top of the stage. Koda, Musastacha, and the rest immediately rushed over to look. I was in the process of putting on my pants when they all suddenly turned to look at me.

I worked my way through the crowd, and saw that an outline of my body had been drawn onto the cloth. Inside it was a watercolor explosion of red, blues, greens, and yellows. I could vaguely make out my dantians, the major meridians, and even some of the other, stranger structures I’d glimpsed during Ikfael’s rituals.

Koda’s face was full of surprise, while Musastacha looked like he’d bitten into a lemon, and Sheedi’s eyebrows rose. The kids just giggled.

The god Diriktot had gifted me with two Statuses—one hidden and one visible—and the information on the visible one was apparently still impressive enough to surprise the people around me, even though it greatly masked my abilities. I took a look, so that I’d have something to compare to what was displayed on the cloth.

Eight (Visible Status)

Path of the Young Forester 1

Age

8

Silverlight

782

Soul Marks

- Mana Door

Attributes

Strength

8

Constitution

10

Agility

9

Intelligence

9

Wisdom

10

Spirit

9 (10)

Charm

8

Luck

9

Body Power

13

Qi

27

Mana

13

Talents

- Qi Sensitive
- Uncanny Tracker
- Multilingual
- Enduring

Blessings

- Ikfael (Spirit, Temporary)

Skills

Magical

- Aeromancy 2
- Hydromancy 2
- Nature Magic 3
- Qi Body 8
- Spirit Magic 0

Martial

- Archery 2
- Knife Arts 2
- Spear Arts 3
- Strategy 1

Mercantile

- Barter 5

Scholarship

- Diaksh 2
- Nonverbal Communication 4
- Signed Diaksh 2

Social

- Relationships 1

Survival

- Caves 3
- Forest 3
- Stealth 4

Sheedi began to interpret the map of my spirit. While the others listened intently, Billisha quietly translated the words into simpler language for me.

“The level is 3. The path is near the hunter, but with a strong current of qi and a little magic. I see nature, water, and air. The bow rises over the spear and the knife. They hide in the forest and in the cave. Baei paelle!” Sheedi gaped at a constellation of structures. “Four talents! One for the river of life, one for the hunter, one for understanding, and one for perfection.”

The adults looked outright astounded, and I thought the story about us living on our own in the wilderness must surely have become more plausible as a result.

“More. There is more,” Sheedi said, pointing to an otter-shaped blob. “A blessing. A spirit’s blessing. Possibly, the spirit is Ikfael.” She turned to look at me, her eyes sparkling.

Then, they all looked in my direction, even Musastacha. Whatever annoyance he’d felt before was apparently gone.

“This is a good seed,” Sheedi said.

“He is a hunter,” Koda said. “He needs to join their lodge. Also, there is an ihkip who needs children.”

“The land knight needs kaleshi,” Dwilla said.

“Ikfael’s Blessing,” Sheedi said, and then came a bunch of words, flowing as fast as a stream.

I heard water and something sounding like the word for house, but lost the rest. While the group argued, Billisha managed to convey that Sheedi wanted to build a shrine or temple at the Glen. That it would grow the village’s issepachu.

When I asked for a translation, Billisha puffed out her chest to make herself look more important. So, status? Importance?

“What about ihkip and kaleshi?”

“An ihkip is a person alone, their family dead,” Billisha said. “A kaleshi is a soldier for a land knight.”

As the adults argued and argued, going around in circles. Billisha explained that the land soldiers were specialized warriors responsible for protecting a knight’s holdings. The doggo-destruction team of Musastacha and Jeseidatchei was one example.

The training sounded interesting, but leashing myself to a master wasn’t of interest to me, at least for now. I expected to lose some autonomy by connecting to civilization—that was the price paid for the benefits a society offered—but my hope was that it wouldn’t be too much. I liked my life in the Glen; I just needed to supplement it.

“I choose,” I said, interrupting the argument. “I am an adult, and I choose what I do.”

My declaration gathered four frowns in response. The only ones who approved were the kids, who seemed to be enjoying the kerfuffle.

“Ithia the Land Knight protects these lands,” Dwilla said. “You are under the laws of Albei. There are duties and obligations.” She paused while Billisha pantomimed the tough words.

And at my request for clarification, Dwilla explained that Albei was a city located farther to the east. It was the center from which the area was ruled, and like all governments everywhere, they expected taxes.

“Then we pay what is owed,” I said, and opened my money bag to reveal the single small gold coin in our possession: the antaak.

Showing the gold was a gamble, but we needed to establish that we could take care of ourselves. I was gratified to see Musastacha’s jaw drop.

“Level 3 and more taak than me,” he mumbled.

“I am an adult,” I said again. “I choose.”

Koda backed down first, his gaze thoughtful. Dwilla, on the other hand, was unwilling to concede, though she didn’t have much recourse. According to Billisha, we were safe under the law, as long as we met our obligations.

I soon found out those obligations were intense. They consisted of:

- A portion of all wages or crops; the amount depended on the size of holdings owned

- Labor on behalf of the land knight, usually agricultural

- Participation in the defense of the village as required

- Mana for the life stone

- And a tenth of all silverlight gathered, including funeral silverlight

Funeral silverlight was collected from the dead, and usually funneled toward the head of a household—the prevailing philosophy being that one really strong person was worth more than a bunch of mediocre ones. Now, that might’ve been only true in the villages where Billisha and Aluali were from, but I could see how it’d be important to have a strong defender if and when the family was attacked. And given what I’d seen of the village so far, defense was important to these people too.

Also, how typical—even after you were gone, the rulers found a way to tax you. Fortunately, any and all of the obligations could be exchanged for money, and money we had.

Interestingly, instead of being upset at my reluctance to be recruited, Sheedi smiled. “Yes, you choose, but Ikfael also chooses. In fifteen days, we go to give her gifts. I talk with the spirit then.”

Ikfael had mentioned that she received offerings from these villagers twice a year, but I was confused about what Sheedi meant by Ikfael choosing. It didn’t help that the adults sometimes talked faster than Billisha could translate, especially when they argued, which they’d started doing after Sheedi’s declaration.

The others appeared to be ganging up on her, but Sheedi’s smile never left her face. Every time she glanced in my direction, she looked more and more pleased.

“Explain. Explain slower,” I said, frustrated at not being able to follow the argument.

“Come,” Sheedi said. “We will sit, eat, drink, and talk like city people. We will talk about the spirit choosing.”

3

I Choose

We moved to another room under the village’s pyramid. This one was circular too, with a low, round table in the middle. It smelled of flowers, the scent coming from a greenish glass bowl filled with dried petals. A multi-patterned rug covered the floor, and on it, surrounding the table, were a series of similarly colorful cushions.

“In fifteen days, the solstice will arrive,” Sheedi said, as she moved to sit on one of the cushions. “At that time, we will thank Ikfael for the clean water she provides. I will go with the hunters to also ask her for a shrine.”

Both Dwilla and Koda appeared to be familiar with this room; each moved with practiced ease to their own cushions. They were halfway into their seats, already objecting to Sheedi’s declaration, when she raised a hand to interrupt them. “Talk one by one and slowly. This Eight must understand our words.”

“We are not the same as before,” Dwilla said, looking exasperated. “Our village is not as rich. We cannot build a shine.”

“The spirit has become generous with her favor,” Sheedi said. “Look at the boy. Now is the time to ask.”

“We already exchange with the spirit,” Koda said, cutting in. “That is enough.”

“The last solstice was hard,” Dwilla said. “We lost much, including Woldec and Grunthen, our Earth-Touched and Soben-Touched. We need to save, not spend.”

It felt like an old argument between them, so I was content to follow along, amused at what I imagined Ikfael’s reaction would be to these people arguing like this. The thing she likely enjoyed least in the world was a fuss.

Billisha was making thunder noises and miming a lightning strike to explain the word soben, but I stopped her. There’d been another, earlier word that snagged my attention.

“Woldec? There is a Woldec here?”

The mood around the table dropped, and the adults wore expressions of worry. They looked to Koda to explain.

“Woldec and Grunthen were the strongest hunters of Voorhei. Our village was blessed by these two element-touched.” Koda shook his head in sorrow. “Before the last solstice, they went to hunt, but did not return. We searched, yet did not find them.”

“Woldec, was he with three people? And an animal?” I made tusks with my fingers and mimed a javelina goring someone.

Koda’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “With four people: Grunthen, Kiertie, Akbash, and Biaka. You saw Woldec in the forest?”

The adults looked apprehensive as they waited for my response. Clearly, Woldec and Grunthen meant a lot to this village.

“I am sorry. Woldec, Kiertie, Akbash, and Biaka are dead.”

Koda sighed, his face falling. “And Grunthen?”

“I do not know.”

“Where did you find Woldec and his family?” Koda asked. “Their bodies and silverlight—what condition were they in?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer. How would the villagers respond to me taking the silverlight from Woldec’s family? Bandits were one thing, but the zombies had originally been valued members of this village’s community.

When Koda saw me troubled, he said, “It is shameful for the family and for Voorhei that we let the dark take them. Tell us where they are, so we can put their zombies to rest. It is not good for them to walk after death.”

Well, at least that’s something I can reassure them about. I’ll just not mention the Red Room. It was where I’d found the uekisheile, and I had a hunch that the room’s other inhabitants, the eilesheile, were valuable.

“I put the family to rest. The place is… hidden.”

Koda gaped, and he wasn’t the only one. Dwilla asked, “You killed Woldec’s zombie? He and his family?”

I nodded grimly. Their shock wasn’t surprising—it’d been a close call, after all. “Yes.”

“Woldec w-was Earth-Touched,” Musastacha said. “Almost dawn. How did you fight him?”

“It was hard. I needed to go close and fight with my knife.”

“A brave seed,” Sheedi said, shaking her head in amazement. “The World Spirit takes, but returns the light to us.”

“A good seed in truth.” Koda turned back to me. “You took Woldec’s silverlight, yes?”

None of the people looked upset at the idea of me taking the zombies’ silverlight, but I still hesitated. Culture was a tricky thing.

Koda seemed to remember I was a child of uncertain background, because he immediately explained: “Silverlight is for family, yes. But when a person is lost to them, others taking the silverlight is allowed. Most important are the light’s return and the dead’s rest.” Koda’s eyes went to the hunting knife on my belt, and I saw him recognize the deer’s antlers engraved into the hilt. “The things on the bodies are a reward. There is no stealing from the lost.”

He closed his eyes, as if to contemplate what he should say next. Surprisingly, the others quieted to wait for him. It gave Billisha a chance to catch up on the words I hadn’t immediately understood. I’d gotten the gist from context, but it helped to have her translation for a better grasp of the connotations.

It was around then that a boy of about eleven or twelve came through the door with a tray. He placed a cup of cool water, a small corn cake, and a bowl of boiled peanuts in front of each person. I glanced at my Status camera, while listening to Billisha.

Wilo the World Speaker’s Apprentice (Human)

Talents: Wisdom’s Friend, Earnest

Huh, two talents. The adults haying in the meadow also had two. Only the guards and those in leadership positions had more.

In the meantime, Koda had opened his eyes and was gazing at me. Nodding to himself, he turned to Dwilla and said, “Voorhei needs Woldec’s light. I ask the land knight for this favor—let Eight pay a smaller tax in exchange for joining the Hunter’s Lodge.”

“I am an adul—”

“Yes, yes,” Koda said. “You are an adult. You choose. It is also possible for you to choose the lodge. There is favor there for you: learning of the land, of skills, and of the paths of the hunter. Our lodge is weaker than before with Woldec and Grunthen gone, but still strong. You want to sell bishkawi hides? The lodge buys. You have trouble in Voorhei? They help. The lodge is like another family. I ask this favor of you: join our Hunter’s Lodge.”

Koda put his hands over his heart and bowed. The air around him was utterly serious and respectful. A thrill of shock seemed to run through the room, but after a moment’s consideration, Dwilla also bowed, quickly followed by Musastacha.

Sheedi drank from her water, adjusted her hair, and then, with a glance toward Koda and a flicker of smile, she gracefully bowed.

Why did the others suddenly give in to Koda’s argument? I didn’t know—the politics were too obtuse, given my limited understanding. Still, a reduced tax rate… that sounded pretty good. And it seemed like Koda understood my desire to protect my autonomy. If I could do that, while also lessening my obligations, that was worth considering. I looked to Billisha and Aluali for their opinions.

“What he said is true: the lodge is another family,” Billisha said. “It is good for people and good for the village. We give to the lodge, but the lodge gives back more.”

“Family is not always good,” Aluali said. “Meet the lodge master first, then choose.”

“What do I give to the lodge if I join?”

“Obligation,” Billisha said. “To train, to protect, to work, to pay. Different obligations for different lodges.”

“You live in the Ithia’s territory,” Dwilla said, “and under Albei’s laws. You have responsibilities. If you join the Hunter’s Lodge, they move there. It represents you to the land knight.”

So, if I joined the Hunter’s Lodge, it’d act as an intermediary between me and the local government? I’d owe more because of the middleman, but that would be offset by a reduction in my taxes. The lodge would also protect me from being exploited and help me improve my skills. That was what it sounded like anyway, assuming the lodge wasn’t the one exploiting me in the government’s stead.

“Billisha is wise. Aluali is wise. I will go to the Hunter’s Lodge to meet its master.”

Koda looked pleased, and he offered to guide us there personally.

The interior of the building occupied by the Hunter’s Lodge was like a hall, the interior musty with the smell of old hides and dried blood. Animal heads were mounted along the walls—deer, elk, foxes, musk oxen, bears, and mountain lions. There were a couple stone butchering tables, with gutters running around their edges to collect blood. For larger game, a couple of hooks descended from the ceiling.

There were crafting stations around the room, as well as an open ring—the kind I imagined you’d find in a gladiator’s training hall. Toward the back were three doors: two led to small rooms, not much bigger than closets, but the center one was open to the courtyard out back and let a nice cross breeze blow through the place. A trap door in the floor was closed and locked.

The hall was presently empty, except for an older man sitting on a cushion and working at a knee-high desk crammed into the left-hand corner closest to the entrance. His hair was salt and pepper and pulled back into a long tail. His face was lined and weathered, but there was an aliveness to it, the glow of a fire still burning bright.

Inneioleia the Hunter’s Lodge Master (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Wood-Wise, Keen-Eyed, Spear Friend, Bear Bane, Survivor

At our entrance, Inneioleia looked up. A crowd of people had come to visit his lodge, and he stood to greet them. He walked over with a limp, and I saw his left forearm from the elbow down was missing.

“What is this?” Inneioleia asked.

Koda took it upon himself to explain the situation, with Billisha filling in relevant bits of information about me, her zasha.

The lodge master’s eyes were shiny and black. They didn’t look like they missed much, and he glanced my way as he listened. There was curiosity there, and nothing he heard seemed to shock him. He was as steady as the land—I could almost smell it on him—and I was suddenly struck with the feeling of missing mi abuelo. There was something about this Inneioleia that reminded me of him.

When Koda and Billisha were done, I took a breath to settle my heart. “My name is Eight. This is my family, Billisha and Aluali. We live to the west, an eighth-day away. I can—”

As I’d been talking, Inneioleia’s eyes had roved over my gear: the spear and knives, the bow carried by Aluali, the patchwork chain shirt, and the oversized jacket underneath it. “Show me,” he said, interrupting. “Do not tell me.”

He gestured for me to follow, then took me—and the rest of the procession—through the open door at the back. Behind the lodge was a walled courtyard about forty yards long. The ground was hard-packed dirt, and there were racks of wooden practice weapons near the door—spears, unstrung bows, axes, and knives. At the far end, four stacks of hay sat. Each had a cloth painted with a circle on it. There were more work areas too, but it wasn’t immediately obvious to me what they were for.

It made sense that he’d want to learn about my skills, yet I couldn’t help wondering if he was jumping the gun. Sure, Koda’s offer sounded good, but there were still details to work out. The fine print to read. “Before we start, I have questions.”

Inneioleia nodded. “Questions are good, but slow. You show me. I show you. Then we will understand each other faster.”

I looked at my guides. Billisha seemed confused, but Aluali nodded. So, this wasn’t typical behavior, yet it wasn’t bad either.

Well, it would be interesting to see someone skilled in action. Okay, let’s do it. I can still say no afterward. “What first?” I asked.

Inneioleia smiled. “Good. Come here.” He led me to a series of paw and hoof prints carved into the courtyard wall. He started at the top left. “What animal is this?”

It was one I knew. “A turkey.”

“And this?”

“Hmm…” I recognized the print as coming from a coyote—I’d seen plenty on my hikes back in my old world—but didn’t know the Diaksh word. So, I improvised by getting down on all fours and barking, and then gestured with my hands to show the approximate size.

After a pause, Inneioleia nodded. “A coyote, yes.”

Next was a bear—that word I knew—then a fox, and quite a few more after. I didn’t get them all right though—only about sixty percent—and it was a real blow to my ego. I’d thought I knew my tracks better than that.

Each time I got one wrong, Inneioleia corrected me. When he saw I didn’t know the Diaksh word for an animal, he shared the word and followed my example by pretending to be it. He knew their movements incredibly well—the way each held their head, walked, and called to each other. He had an eerie knack for truly becoming them, and I made sure to memorize the details of the animals I didn’t know.

Next came a test for walking silently through the woods. Inneioleia dumped several buckets of forest debris—pine needles, rocks, sticks—onto the ground. There were several buckets available, and apparently the difficulty could be adjusted by changing the mix. It wasn’t too bad at first, but then he kept making it more difficult until it was almost impossible to walk quietly across the clutter. I’m pretty sure I growled in frustration at the end.

The next test involved recognizing smaller and smaller shapes at the far end of the courtyard.

The test after that involved me sprinting back and forth as many times as I could. Then I had to walk across the debris field again while trying to control my breathing.

That was followed by me doing handstands and cartwheels. I also spun in circles for as many revolutions as I could stand. Then, while dizzy and disoriented, I was blindfolded and asked to find him as he hid in the courtyard.

The tests went on and on, but no one seemed to get bored, least of all me. I’d always been competitive, and I found myself more and more invested in succeeding at these challenges. Each time, the difficulty ramped up until I couldn’t handle it anymore. Then, I asked to retest, because I didn’t like not doing well.

As the tests progressed, Sheedi and Musastacha were called away. People stopped by to consult with Koda. They sat in a half-circle talking business while they watched the proceedings. I saw Billisha and Aluali among them, but I didn’t have any attention to spare to focus on anything other than the tasks assigned to me.

One benefit of the tests was that they provided important clues to what it took to survive as a hunter in this world: strength, endurance, knowledge, and skill. The profession was certainly a multifaceted one, and we weren’t even done yet.

Inneioleia had made me run another set of sprints, and while I was bent over, panting to catch my breath, he threw a practice spear at me. I caught it and immediately dropped into holding the spear. It was instinct now, burned into my muscle memory.

Inneioleia nodded. “Show me.”

I attacked the air with a thrust, then stepped forward and back, doing my best to match the alignment I’d learned. I kept things simple, because that was all I could do. Hopefully, Spear Arts-Sensei won’t be too disappointed.

“Stop,” Inneioleia said. He tossed me a practice knife. “Show me.”

Ugh. I hadn’t yet worked out the finer points of holding the knife, so I demonstrated what I knew of the stance, as well as the cuts and thrusts I’d been practicing. I took a step—

“Stop.” Inneioleia walked over to Aluali and asked for my bow. He brought it to me, along with five arrows.

“Cast the arrows.” He pointed to the targets downrange.

I gritted my teeth and tried to ignore my poor performance with the spear and knife. This, at least, I could do. I strung the bow, nocked an arrow, and took a breath to collect my calm. Another breath, and I raised the bow. As I exhaled, I drew the bow and released.

The arrow flew straight, though it went left off the bullseye. On a modern target, it would’ve been in the eight ring. It was a good shot—a very good shot given the distance and quality of the bow.

I mentally reviewed the just-completed shot cycle and realized that I’d jerked the release a little. I drew the bow and released another arrow. The second shot was better, but still left, almost in the nine ring. The next one overcompensated and went right, hitting the six ring. The fourth went left again, and the fifth right.

All the arrows were tightly clustered except for the one in the six ring. Pleased, I looked over at the lodge master. His head was quirked, like he’d just seen a three-legged pigeon.

“Where did you learn to cast arrows?” Inneioleia asked. “Who trained you in this strange technique?”

My draw was a hybrid of what I’d learned from barebow hunter friends, the classes I’d taken at Portland Community College, and my fifty-dollar-an-hour instructor. What that made me was an instinctive shooter using a modified Olympic form and Mediterranean draw. I knew it was weird to look at, but it worked. At least for me.

Piqued, I said, “I show. I show. I show. Now, you show.”

Inneioleia grinned, and I noted that the old man had all his teeth. He went inside to retrieve a horse bow, a short-ish recurve bow. Instead of the usual place to grip, though, this one had a contraption made of wood, leather, and steel. He fit his left forearm into a padded area at one end, and then strapped the bow tight.

Once the prosthetic was in place, the lodge master casually sent five arrows downrange—each one fast, powerful, and precise. “My left hand is gone, so I only right-side cast.” He gestured for Koda to pick up a bow. “Show him right and left.”

Koda bowed with his hands over his heart. He retrieved another horse bow from the racks nearby and shot his five arrows, while alternating between right and left-handed draws. It looked a lot like Ottoman-style archery, including the wrist flick thing those archers do at the end of their shots. Koda wasn’t nearly as precise or fast as Inneioleia, but it was still a noteworthy effort.

“I do not have the Archery skill,” Koda said, explaining. “It is Militia Arts, a big bucket like the Survival skill. You train in Militia Arts?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Your village is strange. Here in Voorhei, all train in Militia Arts.” Koda turned to Billisha and Aluali and asked, “You train?”

Billisha nodded. “Since when we were five years old. Both of us.”

Inneioleia took off the harness, put down his bow, and retrieved the spear I’d used earlier. He handed it to Billisha. “Show Eight your skill.”

She licked her lips and passed the spear to Aluali. “You are better.”

Aluali blushed. “I do not want to embarrass Zasha.” He tried to pass the spear back to Billisha, but she refused to take it.

“Loyalty is good,” Inneioleia said. “Truth is better. The truth will help your zasha to live.”

When Aluali continued to hesitate, I said, “Come, show me. I am happy to learn from you.”

It was true too. If I’d known that the kids had been taught this Militia Arts skill, I would’ve asked for their help from the beginning. While learning from the various Skill-Sensei was an interesting challenge, I wasn’t a masochist.

Aluali reluctantly got up. His grip on the spear was similar to mine, except that his forward hand rested under the haft instead of to the side. I didn’t think it was a better or worse position, just different. His stance though… somehow it didn’t feel like holding the spear.

He ran through a series of attacking and defending motions. There were stabs, strikes with both the pointed and blunt ends, and parries. The young boy was surprisingly practiced, much better at the spear than me, and I took mental notes during his demonstration, especially on the footwork.

“You see?” Inneioleia asked. “Your foundation with the spear is strong, but what you build upon it is weak. Even your Archery skill: it is good at hitting, but what if you need to run and shoot? To shoot quickly? To shoot behind? Archery is precision, yes, but it is also speed, power, and purpose.”

My nostrils flared at the critique of my shooting. I was happy to learn, sure, but I’d also spent a lot of time practicing the bow. To have all that effort dismissed so easily didn’t sit well with me.

Inneioleia looked at Koda, then back at me. “Our village head tells me you are strong with qi. Show me.”

A part of me wanted to refuse, but I instead chose to use my dismay as fuel—to show up anyone who thought I was incapable and make it clear that I was the best at whatever I set my mind to.

Then I took a breath and put aside both my dismay and ego. While they were potentially useful in the short term—helping me to push ahead—both were ultimately flawed strategies; they put too much power into the hands of others by letting them control me through their criticisms, complaints, and even their flattery. It was better to do what I wanted, to follow my heart for my own reasons.

Really, these were very old lessons from a long life already lived. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to show off a little, right?

I smiled at Inneioleia and flooded my body with qi. My muscles hummed with the energy, and I took off sprinting to the far end of the courtyard and back. I snatched up my bow and enchanted it with qi and nature mana. Then, I drew and released quickly, trusting my instinctive aim. Dropping the bow, I picked up the practice spear and enchanted it as well. After, I thrust, pulled back to cast Cold Snap, and thrust again. Winding down, I dropped back into holding the spear, while throwing some side eye at the lodge master.

Inneioleia laughed, the kind that comes from the belly. “You are daring. This is good. You have heart. A deep well of qi too, but you need to train how to draw on it. Let me show you.” His eyes had been amused, but now they sharpened. It was like looking at a dark night and seeing a glint of moonlight reflected on a knife’s edge.

He picked up the practice spear, and with barely a whisper of a transition he slipped into a one-handed stance. His movements seemed plain and efficient, but they somehow felt right, like they couldn’t be anything besides what they were. And then, when Inneioleia thrust the spear, his qi flared and wound around the haft in a spiral. The air cracked, but the dust on the ground hardly moved.

The movements were a work of art, just about the most beautiful I’d ever seen, and I wasn’t alone either. Billisha and Aluali looked shocked too.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

Inneioleia smiled, almost coy. “For me to tell you, you have to join the Hunter’s Lodge.”

I laughed—I couldn’t help it. The lodge master had read me like a book and known exactly how to lure me in. Well, it wasn’t like I’d been hiding my interest, not with me going full throttle on the tests he’d given me and wanting to show off.

“What do I need to do to join?”

“Pay the fee to become a novice,” Inneioleia said. “Follow the masters when they go into the woods and train with them. Share with the lodge from your hunts. Defend the village when necessary. Add to its strength.”

“And the tax to the land knight would be less?” I asked.

Inneioleia nodded. “So the village head tells me.”

“How often are the hunts? We live far from the village.”

“The hunts are two days every other week. Expect to train with the lodge on the off week.”

So, two out of every ten days spent either hunting or training? That wasn’t too bad. “How much is the fee to join?”

Inneioleia grinned. “For you, one antaak.”

Billisha sputtered; she stood in surprise. The reaction was to be expected—that was over half a year’s wages for a peasant.

Should I have played it more coy after all? “Why so much?” I asked.

“Because you will train in the lodge’s qi and magic skills.” Inneioleia shrugged. “If you do not want to train in them, then it is less—five eltaak.”

My mouth started salivating. “You can train me in qi and magic?”

Inneioleia’s eyes sparkled—he had me on the hook and knew it. “If you are able to train them and your hunting is worthy, one magic rune or one qi method will be given with each step of the lodge’s path: novice, skilled, and master. And there may be more if you make large contributions to the lodge or village.” Inneioleia’s voice became grave. “Each rune and qi method was found, gathered, won, and polished by our ancestors. They are not for the unworthy. The fee is firm. It is a respect given to the ancestors.”

Two days every week? An antaak? They were nothing compared to what was being offered: magic and the means to survive and protect what was important to me. Those were things I’d pay almost any price for.

I looked over to Billisha and Aluali for their guidance.

Aluali nodded. Eventually Billisha did too, although it looked like it pained her to do so.

“I choose,” I said, grinning. “I choose to join the Hunter’s Lodge.”

4

Handled

It was almost seven in the evening by the time we were done discussing my initiation into the Hunter’s Lodge, much too late to hike back safely to the Glen. Instead, arrangements were made for us to stay in the village. The initiation was scheduled for the next evening, and it would be followed by seven days of special training to get me up to speed on the lodge’s practices.

Koda escorted us to the longhouse of Biheila, a widow who had lost her wife, husband, and two children during the last winter solstice—or the Long Dark as the people here called it.

Group marriages weren’t unusual in this world. According to Billisha and Aluali, they were a way for families to bring together useful talents. Apparently, slaves were part of that mix too. Once they were bought, they were adopted as family, but without the same rights as the rest. The word for them—dinshielei—was related to the word for the husk around an ear of corn.

Learning about the realities of slavery had disturbed me, but I couldn’t go around freeing every slave I found… could I? I’d already killed two men—

Aluali took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You did good, Zasha. You do not need a troubled face. The spear is hard to train. My cousin, Mito, hit his head many times when training the spear.”

Aluali was such a good kid—he thought I was worried about my performance during Inneioleia’s tests. I gave his hand a squeeze back. “I am well, thank you.” There was no need to burden him with my worries. I’d just have to find a way to reconcile my values with those of the people I was meeting. First, though, I had to get to know the people and their customs better.

Biheila’s longhouse was much like the others in the village. It was made of cedar logs laid down lengthwise. The roof was pitched in the mansard style, like you’d see on a big barn, and was covered in cedar planks.

As for Biheila, a messenger must’ve been sent ahead, because she was waiting at the door for us. The smell of food cooking wafted out from behind her.

Biheila the Widow (Human)

Talents: Natural Weaver, Nimble Fingers

The woman was in her early thirties with a round face, kind eyes, and hair cut short. She seemed fragile for someone still young—her lips were pressed tight and her back was hunched. The loss of her family must’ve been horrible, and my heart went out to her.

We had to duck under a low doorway to enter the longhouse, and the space opened onto a sunken hearth, where a couple of metal pots sat over an open fire. There were low cushions arranged around it.

Near the cooking area were a couple of low worktables, some chests and baskets, and a loom shoved into the corner. To the left were a couple of beds, and to the right at the far end of the longhouse, the floor descended into an enclosed area for animals. There seemed to be a gate there for letting the animals in and out.

Under the ceiling above us was a lattice of thick wooden poles—more cedar—that provided additional storage. I saw a couple chests up there, along with bales of hay, a bundle of spears, and a bunch of stuff that wasn’t immediately recognizable.

I checked the kids’ reactions, and while they looked around curiously at the space, there didn’t appear to be anything that surprised them. They politely greeted their host, then eagerly sat to await the meal.

Dinner was a bean and vegetable stew with two sides: buttered blue potatoes and wild plums covered in a mixed-berry syrup. The widow watched us eat, as intent as a crow looking at something shiny. Only once we’d stuffed ourselves full did she serve herself from the cookpot.

Koda left shortly after eating. He apparently still had his own family meal to attend. Once he was gone, the kids helped clean up and assisted with the day’s remaining chores, which had been arranged as our payment for staying the night. They shooed me away when I tried to help, telling me that I needed to rest after the day’s trials.

Well, they weren’t wrong. I was dead tired, and my head was swirling with new vocabulary words, observations, and questions. I’d been so caught up in the day’s events that there’d been little time to unpack everything that’d happened.

One question in particular kept popping up. Did I get handled?

It didn’t occur to me until after Koda left, but we were exactly in the position he’d wanted for us—me joining the Hunter’s Lodge and us helping a village widow. We weren’t going to be her family, though the plan was for us to stay with her on the nights we spent in the village. She’d take care of us, and we’d repay her by helping out where and when we could.

At some point, I must’ve lost my skepticism about Koda’s motives and trusted that he had our best interests at heart. His advice had been helpful, after all.

Inside, the uekisheile came out from behind my heart dantian. They’d buried themselves deeply within me this whole time out of caution, since neither of us knew if there was anyone in the village who might be able to sense their presence. A couple of the people were labeled as ‘dawn’ in my Status camera, so it was a distinct possibility. And during our time in the Glen, Billisha had confirmed that calling someone dawn was a respectful way to say there were at least Level 5.

Still, the uekisheile hadn’t been entirely dormant. A single tendril had threaded through my hair and with that, they’d monitored the situation—partially to watch for danger but mostly to soak in the sights just like I’d been. They were just as much a tourist as I was.

Now that it was safe to be more active, they began trying to replicate the qi they’d sensed from Inneioleia’s spear thrust—without success, mind you, which I found amusing. It wasn’t just me who had to struggle learning all these new things!

The uekisheile sang as they played-practiced-danced. Twist-turn-twist. Circle-around-burn. Twist-twist-turn. Ollie-Eight-churn. With a splash, they dove into my dantian, sending waves of qi flowing through my meridians.

I’d never thought I’d ever hear a sapient lichen giggle, but then, that was my life now. Anyway, back to thinking about the serious things, Ollie. Focus.

First there was Koda. The Status camera described him as dawn, and he also possessed the People-Wise talent and fifty-plus years of experience to polish his leadership and social skills.

He wasn’t physically striking, but sitting with my back against the longhouse wall, letting the memories of the day’s events flow through my mind, I realized that he had a subtle presence. People looked to him for guidance, and everyone who talked to him walked away with their head held higher and their steps livelier.

Charm. I’d bet dollars to donuts, he invested in his Charm attribute. There was probably a Persuasion skill at work too, or something like it. Not that he harmed anyone in the process. No, it seemed to me that he used his powers for good—the good of Voorhei.

And then there was Inneioleia, who reminded me so strongly of mi abuelo; it was the sharpness of his eyes and the way he held himself. Ah, I missed my grandfather dearly, even forty years after his death, and that might’ve made me more receptive to the invitation to join the Hunter’s Lodge as a result.

Between Koda and Inneioleia, it was like getting hit by a one-two punch.

I called the kids over. They had finished their chores, and it was time for me to ask some important questions.

“I made the right choice to join the Hunter’s Lodge?”

Both children quirked their heads like otters. “You think you made the wrong choice?” Billisha asked.

“I don’t know. I did not think enough. I was caught by the river’s flow. By Koda’s flow.”

“He is the village head,” Aluali said, “and we are young. His Wisdom is greater than ours, and the other leaders agreed with him.” He rubbed his cheek, thinking. “We listened for you, Zasha. The choice is good.”

“What do you worry about?” Billisha asked.

“Koda’s skills and Charm. That he made the choice, and not I.”

Understanding dawned on their faces. Aluali said, “There are stories of strong Charm. So strong, people lose themselves to it. There is a saying: check your head to your heart, your heart to your head, and both to what you want.”

Billisha had nodded, and touched her head, heart, and belly along with Aluali’s words. She added: “What do you think, Zasha? What do you feel? What do you want?”

“I want to stay with Ikfael and both of you. I think it is dangerous in the forest, but we can do it. At the same time, I feel it is important to choose well so that all of us are safe.”

“If we want to be safe,” Billisha said, “then we can live in Voorhei. Stay in this longhouse—Biheila will be happy for our help in her home, her fields, and her garden. She has a loom and can make our clothes. You can fish and hunt for our meat. Aluali and I can prepare hides. That choice still points to the Hunter’s Lodge. It is not perfect safety—there is danger in all places—but the dangers are known.”

“That choice needs us to leave Ikfael behind,” Aluali said. “The same is true if you become one of the land knight’s soldiers. You will be away more, going to where Knight Ithia tells you, and we would still live here with Biheila.”

“The other choice is to leave Voorhei,” I said. “We live with Ikfael and ignore the Hunter’s Lodge and Knight Ithia. We visit the village to trade, but that is all.”

“If that, then you do not train with the Hunter’s Lodge. There will be no hunter’s magic, except what you learn on your own or from Ikfael.” Billisha rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. “And we would still pay taxes, but with nothing in return. With the lodge, we pay our obligations, but we get benefits.”

I leaned back with a sigh. What they were saying made sense; I just didn’t like feeling manipulated. But then, it was normal. In Koda’s eyes, we were kids—kids with the mad idea of living in the dangerous wilderness. Of course he’d want to convince us of a saner path, especially one that benefited his village. It would be a win-win in his eyes.

Twist-turn-twist. Circle-round-burn. Twist-twist-turn. Ollie-Eight-churn.

Right. My frustration didn’t help. Did I really want to choose an unwise course, just because my ego had gotten bruised in the process? No. I thought not. I felt not. I wanted not. Instead, I’d choose to be an adult and accept another person’s guidance, even if it rankled.

Grind-down-ego. Grind-down-spite. Go-Ollie-Eight. Fight-fight-fight.

I goosed the uekisheile with my qi, and they skittered away laughing. The little rascal—I had thought they were engrossed in their experiments, but they must’ve been listening in on my struggles at the same time. And then made up a rhyme to poke fun at me! Seriously, it was frightening how quickly they were developing. I’d never met anyone with as voracious an appetite for learning. They picked up words and concepts even faster than me.

Back at the Glen, they’d rarely stopped asking questions at first. Then they’d learned the trick of triggering my memories, and I often found myself reminiscing about my old life—usually accompanied by me catching myself at it before getting back on task.

Sometimes, I scolded the uekisheile for distracting me, but really, it was a minor annoyance in exchange for them keeping to my meridians and dantians and only exposing themselves to the outside world when I was on my own.

These days, they mostly watched, listened, and tinkered with my qi, which was apparently enough to keep them entertained. For that, I was grateful.

Turning my thoughts back to Koda, I promised myself I’d stay on my toes around him—maybe even avoid him outright. He didn’t intend any harm, but his priorities weren’t necessarily mine.

“Thank you for the talk,” I said. “I feel better about my decision and will join the Hunter’s Lodge.”

The children seemed to breathe easier when I said that. I knew uncertainty was hard, especially on kids, and the relationship with the Hunter’s Lodge likely offered structure, a way of life they understood.

“The hunters will gather tomorrow for your initiation,” Billisha said.

“Yes,” I said, “and we will stay through the rest of the week.”

The time in the village would be helpful. In addition to training, I still needed to find the ingredients for Ikfael’s donuts, as well as to track down Woldec’s remaining family: a man named Ghitha. I wanted to let him know personally about what happened to his brother.

What else? I let my mind wander over the day’s events. What caught my attention, but had to be filed away for later?

“Billisha, tell me about the Long Dark.”

“Zasha remembers there are ten days to the week? And thirty-six weeks to the year?”

“Yes,” I said, “and five days extra.”

“The Long Dark is those five days at the end of the year.” She licked her lips nervously. “They are the days when magic stops, so villages need to store mana for when the animals attack.”

That caught me by surprise. The magic stops—what does that mean? I wondered. The animals attack? “Tell me about the magic stopping.”

“I don’t know how or why. It is mysterious, Zasha. I’m sorry. We can ask Sheedi the World Speaker to explain.”

“There is no magic during the Long Dark,” I said, trying to clarify without exposing my ignorance.

Billisha blinked in confusion. “There is magic, but it does not recover, and qi recovers only half as quickly. There is body power, but only a few train it. This is why the life stone stores mana. Why a land knight’s soldiers and the hunters are important. They defend against the animals who go wild during the Long Dark, hungering for silver and darklight. The more light in an animal, the more it hungers. Power hunts power.”

Holy hells, that explains why Voorhei’s layout is organized around defense. The villagers have to fight off an annual attack from frenzied monsters, as well as any other normal dangers a village might face.

“During the last Long Dark,” I said, thinking things through, “Voorhei lost much. Dwilla and Sheedi said so.”

“Yes,” Aluali said. “There were also the worrying farmers talking to the village head. Woldec was Earth-Touched. Grunthen was Lightning-Touched. The village struggled with them gone. Biheila—” He gestured to the widow. “She lost much. Her family was small, and now it is one. Many people tell the same story.”

That Koda—he figured out that I have a soft spot for helping. Yep, I was definitely handled.

I woke up to a notification. It was dark, except for the phone screen in my head, and I heard the sounds of soft breathing around me. Biheila slept in one bed, the children and I in another, all a tangle. I didn’t move, so as not to disturb them.

Spear Arts has increased from 3 to 4.

Diaksh has increased from 3 to 4.

Signed Diaksh has increased from 3 to 4.

None of the skill increases were a surprise. My head was crammed full of words, enough for them to spill out my ears. As for the spear, the whole night I’d dreamt of nothing but Inneioleia’s thrust. Over and over again, like I was stuck in a time loop, except one on a twenty-second timer.

I had been greatly affected by the demonstration, though I hadn’t expected it to be to this degree. And the uekisheile too—I felt them continuing to tinker with my qi, trying to replicate the way the energy had flowed. If the two of us could learn how to do it, then my attack power would dramatically improve. I wouldn’t have to rely on poison, which there was nothing wrong with, but I wouldn’t always have time to prepare for encounters. And besides, the ability… the spell… whatever it was called—it’d been so cool.

How did it go again? I couldn’t help easing out of bed to take the stance I’d seen the lodge master adopt. The uekisheile prodded my memory, and—Yes, it’d been one-handed, with the grip at the center of the haft.

My spear wasn’t handy, but my imagination would serve well enough. Then, in the midst of thrusting, I froze. Suddenly, I felt like I was dreaming again, yet I was awake while the others slept. Why am I doing this now? I usually wasn’t this single-minded, even with the things I was passionate about. This is more like the behavior of a certain lichen.

The uekisheile ducked behind my heart to avoid my attention. I got the impression they were somehow responsible for the strange state I was in. Sure, they’d been able to prod me into thinking about certain things before, but this was my first experience of them actively manipulating my dreams, which then had appeared to carry over into my waking consciousness.

I was of two minds about it. No, make that three.

The first was that, if true, it was a handy way to dive deep into any topics worth studying. It was almost cheating—all the practice without any of the sweat and concern for running out of stamina, qi, or mana. The utilitarian in me loved the idea. I could use it to memorize vocabulary, movements, and runes.

The second was the downside: I felt like I’d barely gotten any rest at all. My thoughts were sluggish, and I would’ve loved a cup of hot, steaming coffee.

And then third: I was weirded out. Seriously so.

The uekisheile and I had been getting along well, like really well, but this was a level of connection-relationship-intimacy that was disturbing. I wouldn’t even have wanted Helen, the person I adored most in the world, to have this level of influence, let alone a sapient lichen.

Stronger-together-we. Ollie-Eight-We. Question-scared-question? The uekisheile’s qi was tentative and reminiscent of puppy-dog eyes. If they had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between their legs.

That made me feel guilty. As quickly as the uekisheile was learning, they were still emotionally young. It was my responsibility to instruct them on appropriate boundaries–just like when I’d taught my daughter Alex how putting a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the VHS player was bad.

I composed my thoughts, and sent them on gentle waves of qi: Things-okay-okay. Surprised-new-impressed. Startled-new-scared. Love-uekisheile-love. Request-permission-ask. And that’s really all I wanted—for them to ask permission next time, even if they thought they were doing something that was for our own good.

The uekisheile stilled as they processed the thought-feelings I’d sent. It was only a moment before their tail started wagging again, though. Understand-understand-understand. Careful-we-careful. Slow-Ollie/Eight-slow.

This little rascal. Ollie/Eight-not-slow.

Slow-slow-slow! Okay-okay-okay. Love-Ollie/Eight-love.

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and ran a hand through my hair. This little buddy of mine was turning into quite the handful. An adorable handful, but still a handful. Fortunately, they were mindful of my request and respectful of boundaries. This wasn’t Invasion of the Body Snatchers playing out in real life. With another breath, I set aside my fear and slipped back into bed.

I lay there thinking until the cock crowed. The chickens and goats were inside at the other end of the longhouse, and everyone jumped at the noise. The sun was just starting to peek through the gaps in the door.

After breaking our fast with eggs over a tomato stew, we helped Biheila with her chores. I was given the tasks of feeding the chickens and weeding the garden out back, but only after I’d failed at feeding the goats first. Apparently, in the future, I wouldn’t be allowed near them again. There was something about me they hadn’t liked. Not to the level of needing the Healing Water spell, but there’d be a goat-head-sized bruise on my butt come tomorrow.

As I worked, safe in the fenced garden, I whispered about all the delicious dishes I knew that featured goat—birria, of course, but also Jamaican curried goat, braised goat shoulder, and peanut butter goat soup. The goats were tied to a post nearby, and their ears twitched as the list went on and on. Maybe it was my imagination, but I liked to think that they learned to fear me then.

I was just finishing up—ladling water onto my hands to wash them—when someone clapped their hands three times in front of the longhouse.

“Biheila, I am Ghitha here, Woldec the Hunter’s brother.”

Oh, that’ll save a trip. Koda must’ve broken the bad news to him already. I wiped my hands on my pants and walked around to the front of the house to meet him. By the time I got there, Biheila and the kids had already come outside. Somewhere along the way, while I wasn’t paying attention, the three of them had acquired flower crowns.

Ghitha was a foot taller than Biheila—lanky too, but so were all the other villagers I’d seen. He seemed leaner than most though. Not hungry-skinny. More like he might be a picky eater. He was also well dressed by village standards and wore a jacket lined with gold ribbon, as well as a feathered hat. There were three necklaces around his neck, each with a different gold medallion.

Ghitha Woldecsbrother (Human)

Talents: Methodical, Soft Walker, Even-Tempered

He wasn’t subtle about looking me up and down, but his face didn’t give anything away—though his eyes did flicker when he saw Woldec’s hunting knife on my belt.

When we were introduced, he bowed low, his hands over his heart. “I greet my brother’s zasha and give thanks for the rest you brought to him. Also for my nephew, Akbash, my family-sister Kiertie, and my niece Biaka.”

“My house is small, but come inside to drink.” Biheila seemed nervous. She’d been the same way with Koda the previous night, but the village head had been able to put her at ease. Ghitha seemed to fluster her, though, especially when he accepted her offer.

He walked inside the longhouse, finding a seat and taking care to wipe his hands on a cotton handkerchief. The kids and I sat across from him, while Biheila heated water and gathered mint for a tisane.

“Again, I give thanks to my brother’s zasha,” Ghitha said. “I ask for you to give me the story of his death.”

“I found your family as zombies in the forest to the west. They had fought the forest’s animals. For Biaka and Akbash—a chliapp lion. For Woldec and Kiertie—a kalihchi bear. They delayed the bear to give Biaka and Akbash time to run, but your niece and nephew were caught by the lion.”

Ghitha frowned at the mention of the bear, the first time I’d seen any emotion on his face. “The fight was in the bear’s cave? Their hunt took place in winter—was the bear not sleeping?”

I’d kept the location a secret from the village leaders, but of course Ghitha would know about his brother’s expedition; Woldec had carried a map of the caves leading to the Red Room where I’d found the eilesheile and uekisheile. “I do not know. I found them two seasons after their deaths.”

Ghitha didn’t let up. “You found the dead in the cave?”

“Yes.”

“Can you take me there?”

Aluali and Billisha grabbed my arms, each to a side, as if to keep me from going. Both spoke at the same time:

“Zasha, you cannot!”

“Zasha, it is dangerous! Do not go back into the caves.”

Ghitha pursed his lips. “I wish to give ammilwa to my family.”

I looked at Billisha for help with the word I didn’t know, but she crossed her arms. “No, Zasha. I will not do a thing that would put you in danger.”

Billisha may have refused to translate, but I could tell from the context that the unknown word was likely funeral related. I wanted to keep the Red Room a secret, but could I do it at the expense of the dead? My grandmother would have strong words for me if I did. Very strong words.

“The place is dangerous,” I said to Ghitha.

“The bear is the ippu of the forest and the esselti of our hunters. They should have killed him years ago, but they were afraid.” Ghitha tightened his fist and hit his knee to strike home the point. “Taak kills fear. I will give my taak to kill the hunter’s fear, and then the hunters will kill the bear.”

Somehow, I didn’t think it would be that simple. Yes, money talks, but I’d seen the bear in action. “Inneioleia—”

“—is a man afraid,” Ghitha said, dismissive. “He did not bishtula Woldec enough. He did not bisht Woldec’s zashtain.”

I looked to Billisha for help once again, but she shook her head. “You cannot, Zasha. The dead rest. That is enough.”

“Koda the Village Head has told me that you are an adult,” Ghitha said. “Be an adult. Tell your children to do as you ask.”

Ugh. This guy. I understood his desire for revenge, but no one tells me how to treat my kids.

“I will give you taak,” he said. “I will buy your hides. Take me to my brother’s body.”

“The place is dangerous,” I said. “I will not take you, but I will bring your family’s bodies to you.”

It’d be a hassle for sure—dragging the bodies out of the cave to a suitable meeting place—but I figured it ought to be doable. And it’d meet two goals at once: protect the location of the Red Room while also fulfilling my promise to the dead to come back for them.

“I want to see—” Ghitha said.

“No,” I said, interrupting. “I will bring the dead. That is all.”

Ghitha’s gaze never left me. “And my brother’s things?”

“I have some. Some, I left behind.”

“I would see and buy,” Ghitha said.

“I will keep the weapons, but can sell the rest.”

Ghitha’s gaze was steady, as if he was trying to look through me. After a while, he said, “That is fair. We will arrange a day to trade.” He offered his arm to seal the deal, and I clasped it like I’d seen the villagers do.

He got up right away, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of Biheila’s longhouse, and apparently hadn’t noticed my momentary confusion. In his arm was a spark of lightning qi, the flavor different from the storm qi I’d experienced or the kalihchi bear’s qi that I’d found in the aftermath of one of his rampages.

Why was the qi there? Did it serve a purpose? I had no idea, so all I could do was sigh.

There was just so much I didn’t know about this world—about its societies, about people’s abilities, and about their tools and techniques. I didn’t foresee an end to the learning anytime soon.

5

Initiation I

The arrangement was that when Sheedi visited Ikfael, Ghitha would come with her in order to collect the bodies of his family. It’d be a long and arduous haul for me to move them, but there should be more than enough time to get the job done.

After Ghitha left, the kids and I toured the rest of the village and kept an eye out for the things we needed back home. Our shopping list included:

- Maple sugar
- Whatever we could find in the way of flour
- Yeast
- Salt, to restock our supply
- Any other herbs and spices available
- Clothes for all of us

- Tools, including a wood ax, saw, plane, shovel, hammer, and nails

To pay for it all, we had fifteen taak, two eltaak, two sets of chliapp lion razors, a bishkawi hide and the promise of more back at the Glen, and a small pouch of eilesheile powder.

The powder had already been treated by the uekisheile to make it safe for consumption. It was the item I had the most hope for—and the one I was most uneasy about. If the eilesheile was worth Woldec facing the kalihchi bear, it was worth stealing from a bunch of kids. It was also clear to me that Ghitha had been angling to learn more about the cave system in which it grew.

I had originally been planning to ask about the eilesheile’s value, but that was put on hold for now. Better to wait until I found a trusted business partner, and maybe arrange for secret deliveries. That way, people couldn’t track the supply back to us.

Voorhei was a decent-sized village with a population of about eight hundred, and it seemed like the people didn’t depend on anyone else for their basic needs. We didn’t find any merchants or general stores. For specialized goods, we were told about a smith and a potter in town, a mill and a tannery outside the walls, and a sugar shack in the woods. Also, once a week a peddler came through to supply the things that were hard to get or make at home. That was it.

The smithy belonged to a family, but no one was around when we stopped by, except for the owners’ son. Ellwa, who was human and had the Metal-Wise talent, told us the prices of the tools we were looking for.

The total cost for everything we wanted was thirty-five taak, which would wipe out our coinage. Ellwa didn’t think his parents would be interested in trading for hides, but thought the chliapp lion razors might intrigue them. He told us to stop by again when they were home, so we left without buying anything.

The miller’s name was Inglei. She was human with talents for being Meticulous and Constant. We learned from her that the villagers primarily ground corn, but they also collected wild acorns to grind for flour. More rare was something that sounded a lot like yucca. She said that folks also sometimes dried potatoes. As for other cereals, there was barley grown to the north, while wheat came from across the ocean. The only place she’d seen it for sale was the market in Albei.

The good news was that she was willing to trade some of her yeast and salt. It cost us one taak for a half-brick of yeast cake and a pint of salt. Woohoo! Two items acquired! Can I make donuts from ground corn or acorn flour? Maybe a fritter? I thought about it while we took a break along the stream’s bank.

The kids were happy to watch the mill’s water wheel turn and they chatted about everything they’d seen in the village. The clear blue sky, the burbling stream, the creaking and groaning of the water wheel—it wasn’t a bad place to be. The area was hot and humid, not as comfortable as the Glen, but not bad.

The heat eventually drove the kids into the water, but I had them move downstream from the water wheel first. I was comfortable free-ranging the children, but there was no reason to be stupid about taking chances. I kept an eye on the surroundings while they played.

Eventually, hunger drove us back into Voorhei and toward Biheila’s longhouse. We found her coming back just as we arrived; she was dirty and sweaty from being out in the fields. We watched her drink deeply from a jug, before ladling water onto her head, face, and hands.

“Hot today,” I said, the epitome of a conversationalist.

“Yes,” Biheila said. Her smile was fleeting. “But it is good for the cotton.”

Well, that was as good an opening as any, so I asked her about where I could buy cloth and clothing. She had the Natural Weaver talent, after all, and a loom sat in the corner of her longhouse. She should know a thing or two about either buying or making good clothes.

With a nod, Biheila walked me over to a wooden trunk. Inside were three separate sections, two of which were full of cotton and wool cloth, and she took out examples of each. The fabric in the first section was brightly colored. “This, my husband’s work.” The colors in the next section were more muted. “This, my wife’s.” The last section was empty. “Mine, all traded.”

Biheila carefully folded the fabrics before putting them back in the trunk and closing the lid. Her hands trembled as she opened a second trunk. The weave of the fabrics inside this one weren’t as even, and the dyes weren’t as consistent.

“My children’s work,” she whispered, gently stroking the material. A tear ran down her face.

There’d be no way she’d sell us this cloth—each sheet was a memento of her loved ones—but maybe we could commission new pieces? Ones without the weight of memory woven into the fabric.

“We need clothes,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, looking us over. She examined the weave of what we were wearing, tugged on the seams, and put her fingers through the holes. Her entire hand fit through the one in my jacket and shirt where Kaad had stabbed me.

Her lips pressed tight, and I saw a fire build behind her eyes. She seemed to steel herself to open yet one more trunk, this one full of finished clothes. Like an archeologist, she dug her way through the layers until she found shirts, pants, kilts, and tunics in our sizes. They were all used, but well-made and patched where necessary—not new, but taken care of. One batch tended toward pale blues and yellows, while another leaned toward ochre and rust.

Without a word, Biheila tugged the tunics off of Billisha and Aluali and started dressing them in the clothes. Tears leaked down her face, but her hands didn’t stop.

The clothes were big on the kids, but looked good. Aluali preferred the lighter colors, while Billisha liked the more muted ones. Biheila grabbed a length of cord and took the kids’ measurements.

When she reached for me, I grabbed her hands to stop her. With a smile, I gently said, “I change clothes myself.”

Flustered, Biheila said, “I am sorry. I forgot myself. You are guests.” She looked down at her hands, embarrassed.

I gave them a squeeze. “A person who cares for children—they are a friend to me. We are friends now, so no apology is needed.”

Biheila looked up in surprise. The idea of being friends with an eight-year-old must’ve been strange, because she searched my face.

It was just as I said though. Even if we’d just met, I was certain Biheila would throw herself in front of a bear—kalihchi or otherwise—to protect me and the kids from harm. My impression was that she was grieving, lonely, and hungry to love, especially children. I’d be a cretin to treat her poorly in response.

“Friends,” she said as if testing the word. Then with more confidence: “Friends, yes. You will call me Bihei, and I will help my friend.” With a mischievous grin, she tugged on the ties to my armor.

According to Bihei—it was a cute nickname—each piece of clothing when new would’ve cost between ten to fifteen taak, slightly more for the tunics. We haggled and arrived at a price of five to seven taak each for the pieces made from cotton. Wool was more expensive, but we had time until they would become necessary. We were still in the middle of summer.

So I handed her all our remaining coins—thirty-four taak—for clothing for the three of us. Sure, I could’ve driven a harder bargain, but I didn’t want to take advantage of Bihei. It was more important to me to nurture our budding relationship, both as friends and trade partners. Besides, the clothes were worth it, even used. There was no way I would have let the kids continue walking around town looking like beggars. The choice between that and metal tools was an easy one. The tools would just have to wait. We’d make do until we could afford them.

I didn’t wear my new clothes right away, though, as there was a sugar shack outside of Voorhei to visit. It was supposed to be about an hour’s hike to the northeast, and there was no sense in getting an outfit dirty.

Apparently, the kids and I weren’t the only ones eccentric enough to live in the woods, and Bihei wasn’t the only villager who’d lost her entire family during a winter solstice. The same thing had happened to a maple-sugar-making family three years ago. The survivor—a man named Bindeise—lived on his own almost an hour’s hike from the village.

In the winter, when the maple sap was flowing, he’d make two or three trips to Voorhei’s border to trade his syrup and sugar. Then, after that, he’d disappear for the rest of the year and wouldn’t come back until the sap started to run again.

My initiation into the Hunter’s Lodge was scheduled for sunset that day, so I had plenty of time to hike out and back before the ceremony started. I left the kids with Bihei and headed out.

It was weird to be back in the forest after the bustle and noise of the village. There’d been a lot that was new, and it was a relief to be on my own again. I couldn’t let my mind wander, though—not if I wanted to return safely—but the chance to focus on one thing and one thing only was welcome. Being at one with the land gave my busy mind a respite.

So I traveled through the trees and the underbrush, under the singing birds, and past the rustling small creatures. Under the sky and above the earth. The time flew by.

I’d been calling it a sugar shack in my head, because that was what they were called back in my previous world. When I arrived, though, I realized my mistake. Instead of a lonesome building in the woods, the ‘shack’ was a small fort. A ten-foot-high wall ran around a main house, a barn, and a building for rendering down maple sap into syrup. Or at least—that’s how it would’ve been before a fire ravaged the place.

The wall had been blackened, the inner circumference scorched, like someone had lit a bonfire and the wall was the ring around it. The other buildings and their interiors were similarly damaged. The iron work survived—enough to be salvageable—but everything made of wood or cloth had long ago turned to ash.

From the growth of the grass and bushes in the area, the fire didn’t look like it was that long ago. Maybe half a year? How unlucky. The village lost so much during the last Long Dark.

I found Bindeise’s skeleton lying in a corner of the main house. He looked as if he’d been sleeping. None of his flesh remained, only char and bones. There was no sign of a core, though, so at least I didn’t have to worry about him rising as a zombie.

The feeling around the place was weird. As dirty and blackened as the buildings were, they felt strangely empty. Even Bindeise’s skeleton felt unreal, like it was made of plastic and ready to be hung up in a biology classroom.

I gently touched the skull. “My apologies. I don’t mean to intrude, but I’m curious about something.”

The material was bone all right, but its qi was long gone. I wasn’t like mi abuela—I couldn’t read a creature’s life from its bones—but there was almost always some sense of it having lived.

Now that I looked, I found the same to be true for everywhere the fire had burned. I felt like I was on a film set and the remaining walls were props. Only the grass and the vines that had sprung up in the fire’s aftermath felt real.

I made a ball of spirit mana, just to see what it would do. At first it hovered above my palm, and then, as if a slight breeze blew, it drifted out of the house, out the gate, and into the woods surrounding the fort.

I followed the spirit ball to a gap between the trees. Lying there were the bones of another skeleton. Instead of being scarred by fire, though, this one had been picked over by scavengers. And also unlike the other, this skeleton felt more real, like it belonged to a person.

From the breadth of the shoulders and the narrowness of the hips, it looked like a man had died here. Was this Bindeise? And the other skeleton was some sort of decoy? Why would he do that? My mind started to spin out movie plot lines, but that was all they were—scenarios. I didn’t know the man, after all, and there wasn’t enough information for conjecture. Not really.

I whispered a prayer for the dead, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose. The spirit ball trembled as if it was touched by a ghost. The feeling wasn’t hostile, though. At least, not to me.

“Excuse me,” I said to the air, “I’m just going to put you in order, and then I’ll leave you in peace.”

I started to straighten the skeleton, but I didn’t like the feeling of being watched and had to fight the urge not to rush. Mi abuela wouldn’t have approved of rushing. Respect was important when dealing with the dead. The ones who weren’t hungry, anyway.

The bones were chewed up and broken, likely from the scavengers trying to get to the marrow. It took time and attention to get them all in order, which was how I found the notches in the ribs and the spine. The bones had been scored, straight as steel—not by claws or teeth, but by a knife. Someone had stabbed this man in the back.

6

Initiation II

On the way back to Voorhei, I came across a mountain lion’s tracks at the village’s border. They showed the animal pacing at the boundary before heading into the woods. I followed for about a quarter mile, just to make sure it wasn’t lingering in the area, and found a cedar with its trunk all slashed up. I checked the cuts against one of the chliapp lion razors that I had with me, and they matched well enough for me to start worrying. Time to get out of here.

I asked the uekisheile to watch my backtrail, then hurried to the village. Fortunately, the rest of the trek was uneventful.

I found Inneioleia at the Hunter’s Lodge. He was surprised to see me, since the initiation ceremony wasn’t due to start for several hours. The surprise turned into a frown when I told him about the possibility of a chliapp lion. That frown turned into consternation when I then told him about the deaths at the sugar-shack-fort place-thing.

He flagged down a couple of the children playing outside and sent them running for Koda and Dwilla. I was answering his questions when the village head and reeve arrived, one after the other, and I had to restart the story all over again.

“Tomorrow,” Inneioleia said, “the lodge will send hunters into the forest. Eight will go with them to show them the way to the chliapp lion. He will use the time to learn from his hunt brothers and sisters.”

“A chliapp lion so close is a danger to the farmers,” Dwilla said. “Will you need the land soldiers?”

“If it is one lion, then no.” Inneioleia looked to me for confirmation.

“There was only one set of tracks. The scars on the tree were a mess, but they all looked of a similar size. I think it was only one.”

“Then we will not need the Musa the Dog Rider,” Inneioleia said.

“I will still send a message to the Knight Ithia,” Dwilla said. “With Bindeise’s death, the chextu to harvest maple sap and make sugar is open.”

Billisha wasn’t around, so I had to ask Dwilla to translate the word that I eventually understood to mean ‘license.’ It had flummoxed her at first, but she came upon the idea of pretending to request permission to do something and receiving it. After a couple of iterations, the meaning became clear enough.

Koda picked up the thread of the conversation. “A sadness is Bindeise’s death. There is no one else in the village with a talent for making sugar.”

“Alda Tulsson has one for cookery,” Dwilla said.

“Alda is afraid of the moon’s shadow,” Koda said. “His taste for sweet things is not as strong as his taste for life.” Koda patted me on the shoulder. “Not all of us are as brave as Eight here.”

I fought to keep from snorting. Look at this guy, buttering me up.

Koda stroked his beard. “Eight, perhaps your family would like—”

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “We will not leave our home in the forest.”

“But there is money to be made,” Koda said. “You can still hunt, and your children can learn to make sugar.”

I shook my head. “We live where we do because of Ikfael, not for money. If we were willing to leave her, then we’d live in Voorhei.”

“I understand,” Koda said. “Then we will wait to see who will step forward. We have time until the first flow of maple sap.”

“Knight Ithia will not want to wait that long to settle this problem,” Dwilla said.

“She will not have to,” Koda said. “The lure of money will eventually overcome a family’s fear. They will find their courage, as well as the taak to pay for the license. All we need to do is wait.”

“I trust your judgment,” Dwilla said.

Of course, the conversation didn’t flow quite as smoothly as all that. There were a number of words I didn’t understand, but the adults were willing to humor me—they explained the vocabulary as they went. The hardest words were the abstract ones. Poor Dwilla had to pretend to face Inneioleia mimicking a lion for me to learn the word for courage.

Koda shook his head. “What I don’t understand is why Bindeise took his own life. He was stubborn, like a rock is stubborn.”

What? I glanced toward Koda sharply. There was nothing in what I said that implied Bindeise killed himself. Maybe it’s a translation problem?

Dwilla didn’t even blink at Koda’s interpretation of events. “That was also my understanding, but perhaps it was because of this other dead person Eight found.”

“Do we know who it is?” Inneioleia asked.

“None of the families have told me of anyone missing,” Koda said. “I will walk the village tonight to ask.”

“And who will attend to the bodies?” Inneioleia asked.

Dwilla grimaced. “It will be me. I need to report on it to the land knight.”

“Then I will send hunters to escort you when the danger of the chliapp lion has passed. Eight will also go and guide you to the second body.” Inneioleia turned to me. “It will be part of your training. Is that acceptable?”

“As long as the lion is dead, then yes.” I didn’t mind. The hike was easy enough, and I was curious to see whatever counted as Voorhei’s CSI unit in action. “But I have a question first. Why do you think Bindeise killed himself?”

Koda sighed. “He was a troubled man, and you said there was fire.”

“Cleansing fire,” Inneioleia said, clarifying.

While the others caught me up on the words I didn’t know, the lodge master left to open the trap door leading underground. On his return, he had a small round cake of coal in his hand, just about the size of his palm. The symbol of the lodge—the crossed bow and spear—was imprinted upon it.

“Hunters carry these when alone, in case they are fatally injured,” Inneioleia said. “The fire uses the qi in them and the area to eat their core, so that they do not rise as zombies after death. People who live outside the village do the same. You found Bindeise in his bed, uninjured. There was no reason for him to use cleansing fire, unless it was to kill himself.”

I frowned. But then what about the other body? Did Bindeise kill that person and then himself? A murder-suicide?

“A gift for you,” Inneioleia said, placing the cake of cleansing fire into my hand. “Tomorrow, when you go out into the forest, your hunt brothers and sisters will be with you. There will be many other times, though, when you will be alone. Do not let yourself become a zombie.”

My initiation into the Hunter’s Lodge was held in two parts.

The first was public, and everyone in the village was welcome to attend. The hunters had gone out earlier in the day and brought back a moose bull to slaughter and share with those attending. He was a beauty—easily nine hundred pounds.

A big cookfire was organized in the large open space in front of the pyramid. The smell of grilling venison drifted between the buildings, and a horn was blown to call people to the celebration.

The bull was apparently a good sign. The animals caught the day of the initiation were supposed to be a measure of the initiate’s future luck as a hunter, so people came up to congratulate me, even though I had nothing to do with bringing the moose down.

While the meat cooked, the hunters sang. Their songs were very different from the children’s songs I’d heard from Billisha and Aluali. The words were long and drawn out, both intense and melancholic at the same time, somehow perfect for a bright fire and dark night.

Before we could eat, they brought me in front of the crowd and anointed me with the bull’s blood. I walked around the cookfire in a circle with his head and showed it off to the crowd. Every villager present reached out to touch it and brought their hands back to their hearts to bow.

Inneioleia met me at the end of my circle to take the head and hand me my spear and bow. I went around one more rotation, and this time the villagers kissed their hands before reaching out to bless the weapons.

Then it was time to eat. In addition to the venison, there were pots of porridge, as well as grilled fruits and vegetables. Someone broke out a barrel of corn liquor, and the singing became more lively. As people finished eating, they got up to dance around where the hunters sat.

About three hours later, the celebration finally started to wind down. All the villagers who’d attended came up to wish me well. Billisha and Aluali sat next to me and received their own congratulations. A hunter stood nearby to hand out portions of venison for the attendees to take home.

People were apologetic that the celebration had been so short. Apparently, it normally went until dawn, but that was in the late winter/early spring when all the lodge’s new initiates joined all at once. During the summer, everyone was busy in the fields—they didn’t have the leeway to stay up all night.

It wasn’t until the last guest left that the hunter families began to clean up. Meanwhile, the hunters themselves led me into the lodge.

Inneioleia unlocked the trap door to lead us down a set of stone stairs to a large, circular room. The air was smokey from the sconces burning around the edges, and there was an iron tang from the pot of moose blood Inneioleia had brought with him. The ground was hard earth in the center, with carpets and cushions on the floor elsewhere. I was asked to disrobe and kneel in the center of a circle of gathered hunters.

Then, the second part of the initiation ceremony began. Inneioleia cupped his hands in the moose blood and poured some over my head. He ran his fingers through my hair to make sure it coated my scalp.

I still had blood on my face from when I’d been anointed earlier, but now he used a fur brush to spread more over the entirety of my body. The only parts of me not red were my eyes.

Inneioleia chanted the entire time. He’d done it earlier too, but underground, surrounded by the hunters, the words took on a different quality. I must’ve been running hot, because the blood steamed on my skin.

Then the lodge master told a story—a harrowing tale from his early years when he’d gotten separated from his hunting party and been counter-stalked in the middle of the night by something called a fang worm. When he was done with the tale, he dipped his hand in the moose blood once more and left a palm print on my already red chest.

He traded places with another hunter—Mulallamu, whom I’d met on my first day in the village—and she told a story about climbing a cliff for eagle’s eggs. She also left a bloody handprint over my heart. Every hunter there—twenty-three in total—told a story and left a print. All the stories were instructive; even the lodge’s other apprentices did their best to share what they’d learned as hunters.

My head started to spin, and I felt myself getting hotter and hotter, sucking in the words and stories. The uekisheile inside me paid close attention to the flow of qi.

Suddenly, pain flared, feeling like a needle stitching the surface of my heart. My breath caught, and I bent over, clutching my chest. Distantly, I heard Inneioleia’s chanting. He had grabbed my shoulders to keep me from falling over.

I nearly blacked out, but managed to hold on, and the pain slowly faded. Point by point, the stitching slowed to a stop, and I was left gulping air, trying not to hyperventilate.

I looked up to see Inneioleia smiling, as were the rest of the hunters. “Welcome, brother,” he said.

On my Status, there was a new soul mark: Way of the Hunter.

Later that night—after I’d washed away the blood and caught my breath from the whirlwind of events, after meeting up with Billisha and Aluali and being warmed by their giddy excitement on my behalf, and after seeing how pleased even Bihei was for me—I finally laid down to rest and checked the notification.

Way of the Hunter

A soul mark fundamentally changes the light and soul of the recipient, thereby modifying the application of the World Spirit’s processes to them. Henceforth, when opportunities arise to evolve your path, the options presented will center around the Way of the Hunter.

System-Eight? Is that you? There was none of his trademark snarkiness, though I caught a whiff of him from the tone of the language used in the dialogue box. I wondered, because this was the first time I’d been able to read a tool tip about a soul mark. I checked the others, in case this was part of a larger breakthrough in our understanding of them, and I did find something:

Mana Door

Silverlight is the only reality, and every being is magical. This soul mark provides access to the freeform mana emitted by silverlight, and allows for the intentional creation of hitherto unknown magics. Because of the eisendon used, there is minimal efficiency lost, a natural affinity to water, and a small bonus to water-based spells.

The kids had explained to me that an eisendon was what gave people access to their mana. Children underwent the ritual when they were about one-year old, and it left a scar on their chests. Even so, the vast majority of people couldn’t sense mana enough to manipulate it, but the eisendon at least let them infuse their mana into magical tools, so almost everyone had one.

Excited that I might be able to learn more about the other soul marks, I looked at the other entries—God Touched, Spontaneous Formation, and Memories of Another World—but all I found was a tooltip that read:

Loading…

The three dots of the ellipsis filled in one at a time, disappeared, and then filled in again. Over and over. I waited twenty minutes, but no new information was forthcoming. I sighed, careful not to disturb the others. Everyone was asleep except for me.

And I wasn’t long in following them. I drifted off thinking about the ways necessity had pushed the people of this world to develop tools and traditions to control their paths through life.

Just before dawn, Mulallamu met me at the Hunter’s Lodge. She wanted to introduce me to the members of her team and brief me on how we would be approaching the day’s hunt. My eyes were gummy from the long night before, but the prospect of going after a chliapp lion had me wide awake.

First, I learned that I was to call her Mumu or Sister Mumu but never Aunt Mumu—she was too young for that. As for the rest of the team…

Haoleise was the young archer who had been guarding the villagers with Mumu on my first day in Voorhei. He was just as wiry and lithe as her, but maybe a couple of years older and a little taller too. He asked to be called Haol.

Integnei was of stockier build and likely somewhere in his mid-thirties—wrinkles were just starting to form around his eyes and mouth. He possessed the Braveheart and Patient talents and went by Tegen.

And lastly, there was the team’s other apprentice: a girl about my age named Teila. She had the Wood-Wise talent.

Once the introductions were done, Mumu explained how the Hunter’s Lodge operated in teams of five for small hunts and ten for dangerous ones. As for creatures that posed a danger to the village’s survival, the whole lodge was mobilized. Mumu led this particular team, while Tegen was responsible for teaching the team’s apprentices and keeping them safe.

“But you are only four. There is no fifth member?” I asked.

“You are our fifth,” Mumu said. “The position was open, because of… reasons.” She gestured vaguely with her hand.

“This is not right,” Tegen said. “A hunter must know the land, so that they may walk it safely. You should explain more clearly.”

Mumu scrunched up her face, but answered nonetheless. “It was politics. Do you know that word? People talking at each other, pushing and pulling to get what they want.”

Tegen nodded. “I hear you know of Woldec, yes? He pushed for his son Akbash to join this team, but we judged him not a good enough hunter for us. Woldec disagreed and… how to say…” Tegen mimed a river flowing, and then he blocked the flow. “He interfered, and the position stayed open. We were waiting until the new year and hoped for a new apprentice then.”

“Already, this Eight is our good luck,” Mumu said, and she ruffled my hair. “Our team is complete once more, and with a worthy apprentice. Now let us go. The dawn waits for no one.”

The tops of the walls were turning pink with the sun’s rising just as we arrived at the village gate. It was in the process of being lifted, and there was already a line of people ready to head out to work in the fields. Koda was there to oversee the process, and he chatted with those waiting. When he saw our group, he nodded to us and wished us a good hunt. The other villagers echoed him.

Mumu led us out and through the fields west of Voorhei.

Tegen talked the whole time, his voice soft but confident. He shared what he knew about chliapp lions. They were solitary, except in the spring and summer when they mated and reared their young. Then in the fall they separated, although the cubs stayed with the mother through the winter.

They almost always had five tentacles protruding from their shoulders, each tipped with a sharp razor. Chliapp lions who became dusk or dawn were often larger and had more tentacles. Those that were dark or silvered, at Level 10, were usually faster and more clever. Much faster and much more clever.

Tegen had never seen a dark or silvered lion himself, but there was a story from two generations ago of a dark one ripping through an entire team of hunters. Afterward, a full twenty hunters set out after it, and only thirteen came back alive. It was a bad time for the lodge.

He explained that the patterns he described were only guidelines, since darklight mutated animals in unpredictable ways. That was what was most frightening about it—that every enemy could have hidden cards to play, cards to which ancestral wisdom didn’t apply.

And then if that dark animal should breed, its offspring had a chance to acquire those cards. The children wouldn’t be born high level, but they’d have a head start on the tools and abilities that made their parent successful.

The lecture reminded me of the bashu turkey alpha. In its flock were a handful of smaller turkeys that shared its coloring. I hadn’t seen them shoot heat waves from their beaks, but if they’d gotten a few more levels under their belt? Maybe.

Our team went silent once we reached the village’s boundary. Past that point, if anyone needed to communicate, we did so using Signed Diaksh.

I led the hunters to where I’d first found the chliapp lion’s tracks. From the size of the prints, Mumu was confident that it was under Level 5, so she decided we should continue. She then had me take the team to the tree our prey had marked. From there, we tracked it northwest.

The trail led us on a meandering path through the forest, over a slight rise, and along a crease between the hills. We found another marked tree and a pile of the cat’s scat. Twenty yards north, there was a tuft of fur caught along the edge of a thorny bramble. The occasional paw print and trampled grass kept us on track.

At that point, Mumu took over, with the rest of the team fanning out to search for signs of its passage whenever the trail disappeared. More often than not, it was me that helped us find it again. There was just something—not a feeling, not a hunch, but more a pull on my attention—that drew me. Likely, it was my Uncanny Tracker talent at work.

The hunters weren’t surprised. Part of working together was knowing each other’s talents and skills. My visible Status had become common knowledge in the Hunter’s Lodge.

About ninety minutes after entering the forest, we found an area of flattened grass where the chliapp lion had spent the night. There was no evidence of it lingering, so we immediately set off after it again. The tracks leading away were relatively fresh, and we were likely only two or three hours behind. We moved stealthily, not knowing when we might accidentally stumble across the cat.

The hunters impressed me with how quietly they moved. I couldn’t match them, not at the speed they were demanding. And I got noisier and noisier as our early caution gave way to the need to move faster. The chliapp lion hadn’t meandered after its rest—it had headed directly back toward the village.

We were only thirty yards from the boundary when Mumu signed, “Stop. Hide. Ready.”

Instantly, she faded from my attention. I could still see her, but she was now part of the background scenery—just a minor detail in a broader picture. It was like my at one with the land, but on steroids. My impression was that it wasn’t a spell, though. Maybe something to do with her Wild Sense or Scout-Born talents?

Meanwhile, the archer Haol camouflaged himself. Literally. I felt a blip of qi, and then his skin and hair changed colors to match the scenery around him. A moment later, those colors slowly seeped into his clothes and his bow. It was so cool! If we weren’t about to face a chliapp lion, I would’ve asked him to do it again.

Tegen didn’t seem to do anything special. He made sure his spear was ready while keeping an eye on me and Teila, as well as on our flanks and back trail.

Mumu and Haol snuck forward, and once they were in my peripheral vision, they disappeared. I had no sense of them or their location. It was frustrating—I wanted to see their abilities in action, but I had a job to do: I became one with the land and helped to make sure the chliapp lion didn’t circle back around to counter-stalk us.

Minutes passed with nothing happening. Tegen must’ve been signaled by Mumu at some point, because he had us sneak toward a large oak tree just shy of the boundary. Its trunk was thick enough that it’d need four people to clasp hands around it. We peeked around the sides.

The chliapp lion sat in the long grass, its gaze intent on a group of villagers scything hay not forty yards away. A couple of hunters stood guard, their attention on Tegen, who was signaling them while out of the big cat’s view.

I threw some qi and nature mana into my eyes to see the situation more clearly. The guards didn’t seem panicked or nervous. Instead, they casually—oh so casually—moved between the villagers and the chliapp lion.

The villagers paused their work, while the children organized themselves in rows behind them.

Tegen tapped my shoulder and pointed. Hidden in the brush, barely visible even to my enchanted eyes, I saw Mumu crouched with her spear ready. Next to her, Haol drew his bow. Even though he was camouflaged, I saw that the draw was as smooth as water. Inside me, the uekisheile perked up. They ran some tendrils through my hair, so that they could sense the qi-spiral-straight more clearly.

The qi grew over the next five breaths. The air around Haol’s arrow distorted, spiraling around the shaft. Then, in a flash, the arrow flew and drilled into the big cat’s torso, burying itself fletching-deep and shoving the lion back three feet. The sound of its release was like a rifle firing.

The lion’s body spasmed, the tentacles twitched, and that was that. A heart shot, clean through. It was beautiful. Just beautiful.

Mumu waited to make sure the cat was dead. When it seemed so, she moved out, while the rest of us stayed in hiding. Standing above the body, she let go of her stealth ability and became visible—intentionally making herself a target for anything drawn to the sound of Haol’s spell. Eventually, as the forest settled into its usual quiet, she smiled and signed for Tegen to signal the guards.

She gathered us around to talk about transporting the dead cat to the village. My first hunt with the lodge was done.

7

A Little Pot of Questions

The bounty for the chliapp lion was five eltaak, and we also earned another five for the meat, hide, bones, and razors, for a total of ten eltaak. The money was split into shares, though, and then divided up based on each team members’ contribution to the hunt.

Everyone, including the apprentices, got at least one share, but Mumu and Haol each got two extra—Mumu for leading the party and Haol for dealing the killing blow. Tegen received an additional share for teaching the apprentices. That left an eltaak each for Teila and me. Except, Mumu and Haol each voluntarily gave up half a share to me, since I’d been the one to find signs of the cat’s passage when the party had lost its trail.

That meant I received two eltaak—twenty days’ worth of peasant labor—for the morning’s work. Not a bad haul at all. As for the cat’s silverlight, it was split into six equal portions, with every member of the party receiving a portion. The sixth was set aside for taxes.

9 silverlight gathered. 8 absorbed.

While Mumu reported to the lodge master, Tegen skinned and butchered the carcass. He explained each step of the process, especially when he came across the tricky bits where the tentacles joined the shoulders. A wrong cut there could easily spoil the hide. I watched and waited patiently, biding my time.

When the two of them were finally, finally done, I cornered Inneioleia at his desk. “I am now a member of the Hunter’s Lodge. When do I learn magic?”

Seeing the hunters in action had been amazing, and I was anxious to learn what my options were. I might’ve come across a little intense, because Inneioleia backed up to open space between us.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, you are qualified to choose one qi or mana spell. Wait here.”

Inneioleia unlocked the trap door and went downstairs to retrieve two books. One looked like it was covered in a tawny animal’s hide, while the other was beaten silver.

He gestured for me to sit. “If you cannot read, the books have pictures to show each spell’s effect. If you have questions, ask me.”

I carefully opened both books on my lap. The pages inside each were beautifully illuminated, decorated with images in gold, red, and blue inks. Supplementing the pictures was text written in a clear, clean hand.

The hide-covered book contained ten qi spells. The silver one contained five mana spells. There were no actual runes or instructions in either book, though, just descriptions. No doubt it was a security measure against people with good memories making off with more than they were allowed.

The qi spells and their effects were:

- Bear’s Strength increased a person’s Strength

- Collaut’s Hide thickened and toughened the skin

- Dog’s Agility sped up reflexes

- Hawk’s Eye improved visual acuity and long-distance vision

- Iron Heart improved the body’s resistance to damage

- Cat’s Claw enhanced the cutting power of slashing weapons

- Ram’s Head added power to blunt weapon attacks

- Spiral Pierce improved the attack power of piercing weapons, including arrows

- Camouflage changed the color of a person’s skin, and at higher skill levels, their belongings

- Nature’s Spring rapidly accelerated the body’s innate healing powers

The mana spells were more of a mishmash:

- Air Shield created a round shield of dense, turbulent wind in front of the caster

- Hollow Night made one disappear to all senses, but the person casting also lost all sense of the world

- Night Eyes allowed one to see in the dark

- Scentless Hunter muted odors, and at higher skill levels also affected qi and mana emanations

- Spark shot a bolt of electricity at a target; it wasn’t as intense as lightning, but the spark was still enough to temporarily lock up muscles and interfere with attacks

I grilled Inneioleia about effect sizes, durations, and possible improvements through practice. He humored me at first—about what you’d expect from someone talking to a precocious child—but as my questions continued, his expression became more and more solemn. I was likely taking the process much more seriously than he’d expected.

It turned out that spell runes were shortcuts—a way to quickly stamp mana into a pre-ordered and usable form. Real magic was an act of weight and ritual; it took time, resources, and intent to build. Inneioleia pointed to the initiation ceremony last night as a good example.

There were people whose whole lives were dedicated to observing the flow of mana during rituals in order to distill them into runes. Inneioleia explained how the magic underlying Hollow Night was actually quite advanced—used by an order of magician clerics to understand the nature of silverlight—but that a simpler version had been created and gifted to a Hunter’s Lodge for a service performed. The rune was then passed from lodge to lodge, and included with the first selection of spells because it was so helpful in emergencies.

“So there are other spells available?” I asked.

“Yes, of course, but the ones in these two books are wise choices for apprentices.”

“And the lodge gathers more when it can?”

“Again, yes. How else are we to strengthen ourselves? To feed our families and defend them from the wild things outside our villages?”

“So...” I let the word draw out, thinking. “If someone brought a new spell to the lodge, that would count as a contribution, right? You’d said earlier that contributions would be rewarded—with access to additional spells—which means I could trade spells for spells. Am I getting that right?”

“Yes.” Inneioleia’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have?”

I knew three spells, except I wasn’t sure I was allowed to share Healing Water. Nothing Ikfael had said indicated the spell was a secret, but my preference was to stay in her good graces and ask her permission first. Besides, it was the polite thing to do. The other spells I’d found on my own, so they were fair game.

“I found two from the animals in the forest,” I said.

“You can tell me, but the forest’s easy secrets are mostly known. It is rare to find truly new spells.” He leaned back with a sigh. “I have seen the one that makes the air freeze. We have it downstairs in the journeyman book.”

All right, strike one. Wait, no—that was a bad analogy, since I only had two shots at this. Hopefully, giant parasitic worms were more rare than unideer. “The second spell I call Anesthetic. It makes the target feel no pain.”

“I have heard of such a spell, but it belongs to the Healer’s Lodge.” Inneioleia frowned in thought. “If you share it with us, then yes, that would count as a contribution, but we would need to negotiate with the healers first. They are protective of their secrets and not a good group to anger.”

“How do we do that?” I asked.

Inneioleia went back downstairs to retrieve a silver orb the size of a walnut covered in intricate designs. “Hold this and bring the rune to mind. Give mana to the orb, but do not cast the spell.”

The orb was warm in my hands, and when I followed Inneioleia’s instructions, it became even warmer. Once he saw I was done, he took it back and must’ve inserted his own mana, because the rune’s three-dimensional image appeared in the air above the orb.

Inneioleia nodded when he saw everything was in order. “I will send the orb to our lodge’s grandmaster in Albei. The degree of contribution will depend on her negotiations with the Healer’s Lodge, so we must wait until then. In the meantime, you can still choose one spell.”

I licked my lips. How can I choose just one? All of them look helpful, which is probably the point, but still… this is painful. “Can I think about it?”

“I encourage you to. Talk to the other hunters. Not all are blessed with the use of qi, but about half are. Learn from them.”

“What about mana? Can any of them cast those spells?”

“On your team, Mulallamu has Night Eyes, and Haoleise has Scentless Hunter. There is a hunter named Benseisu who knows Spark.”

“What about you?”

A wry smile spread across Inneioleia’s face. “My memory isn’t strong enough for the runes, so my blessings lie elsewhere. And it’s my fortune that a lodge master’s magics are all rituals—as they should be. Not every candidate for master will be blessed with the ability to use mana quick magic.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon tracking down my lodge brothers and sisters to get their advice. After I spoke to the first couple, word must’ve gotten out, because the others started hiding from me. If they were in the village and not doing anything pressing, they tucked themselves away in the village’s nooks and crannies. If they had skill in Stealth or hiding magics, they used them. My search for answers turned into a village-wide game of hide and seek.

At first, I thought I was being hazed, but then it hit me that this was a ‘learn by doing’ approach in action. Once I understood that the hunters were actually being helpful, the experience transformed from a pain in the ass into a game.

One hunter dropped down behind me from a longhouse’s rafters. It was a good reminder to look up. Another popped out of a hole covered with drying hay. Why was there a hole? Apparently, there were creatures that ambushed their prey from underground, and the hole was to simulate that happening. The lodge members took their games seriously. I could respect that.

Once I had a better sense of the ground rules, I worked my way methodically through the village and found all the rest, except for two who eluded me: Haol and Mumu.

Haol used both Camouflage and Scentless Hunter, and the combination was just too much for my Uncanny Tracker to overcome. When I’d passed by him for the second time, he dismissed the spells and appeared out of nowhere so he could answer my questions.

As expected, the two spells combined were incredibly powerful, especially when sitting still. Camouflage was slow to adapt to color changes, so any movement had to be slow and careful. Running the spells concurrently was a drain on both qi and mana, but that also meant the strain was spread over two stats instead of just one.

Mumu, on the other hand, had used her special ability to stalk me. She’d found me early on and followed behind as I’d searched the village, always staying out of sight. It had taken more work on her part to avoid my finding her, but by doing so, she’d been in full control of the ‘hunt.’

I’d come back to the pyramid to regroup and restart my search for her—and she’d chosen that moment to tap me on the shoulder and ruffle my hair.

“I’m sorry, Soteiqu, but my family needs me and I must stop our game. Quickly ask your questions, then I must go.”

“Soteiqu? What’s that mean?”

Mumu laughed. “It is two words combined. Together they mean Little Pot Full of Questions.”

I grimaced. “Don’t tell me—”

Her grin spread. “Oh, yes. We all agreed. It is a fine nickname.”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. Well, it could’ve been worse. Nicknames were a thing in many cultures, and some of them could be quite rude, even if they were affectionately given. I’d just have to save her life one day and have her call me zasha instead. I grinned at the idea and couldn’t help but look forward to the day. That is, until I asked her about how she’d avoided me finding her.

That was when I found out that she had me in her sights for over an hour. Chills ran down my back. Let’s remember to stay on her good side, I thought.

“Good evening, Little Pot. Did you find what you needed?” Inneioleia didn’t laugh like Mumu, but he couldn’t keep the twinkle from his eyes when he used my new nickname.

“Mostly, thank you, but I would still like to sleep on the decision.”

Inneioleia quirked his head. “Sleep on the decision?”

“To think about it overnight and decide tomorrow.”

“Ah, I understand,” Inneioleia said. “The ancestors can guide us through our dreams. To sleep on it—yes, that is a good expression. It is unexpectedly wise for one so young.” He smiled and gave me a pat on the head. “Then I will see you tomorrow morning, after you have slept on it.”

“Actually, I do have another question: are the spells in the books here at the lodge? Will I have access to my choice right away?”

“Some are kept here, but for the rarer ones we must send a request to the lodge in Albei. The message would travel with those going to market and come back with them. On the tenth day of the week.”

Only a few days then. That wasn’t terrible.

Inneioleia cleared his throat. “If there’s nothing else, I will wish you a good evening—”

“If you don’t mind, there’s one last thing I was wondering about: there’s a grandmaster of the Hunter’s Lodge in Albei, right? Does that mean our lodge is part of the one there?”

“That’s correct,” Inneioleia said. “All the lodges within Albei’s territory are children to the parent lodge there.”

“And what about other cities? Are we connected to their lodges?”

“We belong to the Way of the Hunter,” Inneioleia said, explaining. “We are all of a family. Another city’s lodge is our respected uncle or aunt. The lodges in their villages are our cousins.”

“I see, thank you. That’s helpful.”

“I’m glad. Then good evening.” Inneioleia turned to his desk to go back to work.

I was halfway out the door when I pulled a Columbo and decided to call out another question. I didn’t have the TV detective’s rumpled trench coat, but I did my best impression. After all, if they were going to call me a little pot full of questions, I might as well live up to the name, right?

“Sorry, I have one more—something that’s been on my mind. That’s okay, right? We have qi and mana spells, but what about body power? Why don’t we train in it, since it’s so useful during the Long Dark?”

Inneioleia frowned. “The foundations of body power are simple—they are a person’s Strength and Constitution. Develop them, and body power grows alongside. To do more than that, though, a person needs to change their body. The rituals, medicines, and methods to do so are all kept as close secrets by those who practice them. And those who practice them come very close to being lost.”

“Lost?”

“It’s what we call those who absorb darklight—they and their children. They’ve strayed from the Path to Perfection and become lost.”

I rummaged in my memory for what my Status camera said about the bandits I’d killed. If I remembered correctly they were described as human but also, “dolbec and nisaak.”

Inneioleia’s brows rose. “You know of the dolbec and nisaak?”

“I rescued my family from bandits who were described that way.”

“Those who you met were descendants of the original Dolbec and the original Nisaak. Those two warriors grew strong on darklight and passed their talents on to their children and their children’s children. Now they are a people, a lost people.”

“Is it really so bad to be lost?” I asked.

“Everyone who chooses to pursue power must face countless decisions about the paths they will take. Also what skills to train and how true they will be to the gods’ intent. Do you know of the gods’ intent?”

I shook my head.

I was still standing halfway out the door, so Inneioleia gestured for me to come and sit. He looked like a grandpa about to tell a family story, but not one of the pleasant ones.

Here’s how the story went:

In the beginning was the Imperfect God, first of all things. Alone in the void, they anguished over their great imperfection and set themselves to grapple with it—to subdue and hew, to tear and beat down—but it was to no avail. Their imperfection marred every action. It lay like a bad seed at the heart of all the Imperfect God’s actions.

The Imperfect God thought long upon their dilemma, and they decided that if they could not achieve perfection alone, then they together with another’s eye could. They needed another eye to see the imperfection at work. Another eye to guide imperfection to perfection.

And so the first of the Imperfect God’s children was born, Aethas the Watcher.

Now, the Imperfect God knew that anything they created would also be imperfect, so they watched Aethas, just as Aethas watched them. Together, they would work to root out each other’s imperfections.

It was, however, not to be. The imperfections were insidious. Not even the Watcher could identify all the roots and shoots that bored their way through thought and action. Seeing the wisdom of the original plan, however, Aethas convinced the Imperfect God to create nine more children.

Altogether, the children were: Aethas, Tenna, Heidilei, Suta, Trintilei, Barakas, Agraza, Diriktot, Cothus, and Meliune.

And yet even the first gods were not enough. The bad seed spread among them and turned each away from the others as they pursued their own intents. The power of creation was in their hands, and so the world was born: the air and waters that nourish it, the plants and animals that move through it, and the spirits that oversee it. All were made by the gods as they searched for their own Paths to Perfection.

All was chaos, and hope fled from the Imperfect God. What was once a bad seed now took root in all things. It was a time of strife and suffering. Darkness flowed like sap within every creature.

The gods reflected and regretted their choices. They gathered to watch, think, and decide how to make right their mistakes. Long did they watch, and long did they discuss. Fear had taken hold within them of their own imperfections. They could not decide, for fear of making things worse.

Cothus grew frustrated with the other gods’ hesitation. And so in secret, even from his twin brother Diriktot, he developed a plan to separate imperfection from perfection. He went against the counsel of the other gods and unleashed his plan upon creation.

Thus were silverlight and darklight made manifest in the world. And Cothus fell, rejected by the other gods for acting without their approval and stamping creation with his will alone.

Creation grew even more chaotic. Life and death intertwined, as plants and beasts hungered for silverlight and darklight. The first peoples were ill-equipped to defend themselves from these powerful creatures. They pleaded with the gods to save them from the suffering.

The gods once again feared to take action. Diriktot saw his brother’s imperfect intent and knew he could create order from the chaos, to give it shape and purpose. One day, while the other gods continued their talk, he built a great machine and set it into motion. Like his brother, he stamped his will upon creation. Like his brother, he fell. Thus was the World Spirit born.

Order slowly came to the world. The plants and beasts grew, but so did the people. Seeing that good was possible, even though it was imperfect, the other gods gave their blessings, curses, and gifts to the world to help bring it into even more balance.

This is the state of creation: silverlight is the good seed—those who gather it seek perfection. Darklight is the bad seed—those who gather it immerse themselves in imperfection. They are both powerful, but one follows the gods’ intent and the other does not. That is why those who stray are considered lost.

I sat there thinking about the creation story and wondered about its accuracy. Given that I’d actually met a god, the odds were pretty good that it wasn’t just a fable. Inneioleia likely told the story filtered through his beliefs about the world, but the bones of it were probably real.

I’d still take it with a grain of salt for now. Anytime you classified whole peoples as lost—well, that was a red flag for me. A big one, stamped with the word prejudice. But this was another world. Maybe there really were ‘naturally’ evil creatures. I didn’t think so, but I’d be careful, just in case.

“Will there be anything else, Little Pot?”

I shook my head. There was already enough to think about for now.

“Are you sure?” Inneioleia asked. “You don’t have any more with which to bother your lodge master?”

“Yes. I mean no. Yes, I’m sure. No, I don’t have any more questions.”

“Good,” Inneioleia said with a wry smile. “If you had, maybe we’d call you Inteiqu instead.”

“Inteiqu? What’s that?”

“Mischievous little devil. Now get out of here. I will see you tomorrow. Remember that you must be here early to guide Dwilla to the corpses you found.”

I gave him a quick smile and bow before fleeing. The last thing I needed was another nickname.

8

Qi Intent

The next morning, I found Inneioleia and Haol training in the courtyard behind the Hunter’s Lodge. The sun wasn’t up yet, and a fine mist blanketed the village, seeming to muffle the sounds of people readying themselves for another day in the fields. With ‘hups’ and ‘hahs,’ the two hunters struck at each other, the air around their spears distorted by Spiral Pierce.

Never had I wished for a video camera more. Their movements were beautiful—not quite at the level of the martial arts movies coming out of Hong Kong, but damn close. And more importantly, I wanted a record of their footwork, the way they moved their bodies, and the flexibility of their attacks. Instead, I settled for not blinking—for taking it all in as much as possible. Greed was a sucker’s game. It was usually better to remember one or two details than everything all at once, but I couldn’t help myself.

When the spar ended, Haol helped the lodge master undo the straps of the small shield prosthetic attached to his left arm. With his free hand, Inneioleia waved me over. “Our Eight is so early. Does that mean you have made a decision?”

I’d spent a long time debating the merits of all the spells. In addition to the guidance provided by Voorhei’s hunters, I had also asked for Billisha and Aluali’s input. Both children’s families tanned hides for a living, and they’d sat in listening to many of the stories told by their old village’s hunters. And then there was the uekisheile, who was quite struck by Spiral Pierce, but also interested in Scentless Hunter and all the attribute-buffing spells.

There were two criteria to be considered: combat power and everyday utility. Depending on a spell’s effectiveness boosting each, it’d move up or down my list. Bear’s Strength was a good example of a spell that did both. I was strong for my age, but not as much as a full-grown adult. The extra muscle power would be useful both in combat and in life.

Combat power could also be broken down to offense and defense. Bear’s Strength was primarily offensive, while something like Collaut’s Hide was purely defensive. Dog’s Agility was useful for both striking and defending. Agility wasn’t as helpful in life, but it was a decent trade off.

I’d originally thought to ignore the mana spells, as I already had three on which to spend my limited mana, but then I caught the uekisheile wondering if they could use Scentless Hunter to mask their presence in my body. The sudden realization that the uekisheile could potentially also learn spells opened up a whole world of new strategies.

Except that—after some quick experimentation—we discovered that the uekisheile couldn’t use the spell runes at all. They didn’t have eyes, so the idea of holding an image in their mind was alien.

That, in turn, got me thinking about the unideer. The buck had meridians carved into its horn in the shape of the Cold Snap spell rune, and that had let him make magic.

The uekisheile and I considered the idea for a good long time. Normally, they were eager to rush ahead and play with qi to discover what it could do, but moving my meridians around… well, that felt like looking over the edge of a tall cliff, and the uekisheile’s instincts flared in warning. It was weird to feel them being cautious, but I was glad they’d experiment slowly this time.

So, mana spells for the uekisheile were out for the moment, but the qi spells were all on the table. And I still considered Scentless Hunter, since I could use it to hide the uekisheile’s presence—not to mention the spell’s usefulness in hunting and ambush scenarios.

In the end, the spells on my shortlist were: Spiral Pierce, Dog’s Agility, and Scentless Hunter.

My original impulse had been to choose Spiral Pierce, and then hope for another shot at a spell if the Hunter’s Lodge in Albei accepted Anesthetic. But after discussing things with my family, I’d decided to choose Dog’s Agility instead. The boost to offense and survivability was just too enticing, plus it was a delicious opportunity to study the flow of qi through the human body.

The uekisheile hadn’t forgotten the taste when we condensed my qi. Was there more deliciousness in the works? We’d find out. And in the meantime, if my offense needed additional oomph, I’d rely on poison.

I couldn’t very well reveal my lichen tenant’s role in the decision making, but the rest of the criteria were fine. Inneioleia nodded along while I explained my reasoning.

“That’s why I choose Dog’s Agility,” I said, finishing.

“You are very organized in your thinking. No wonder you are a Little Pot Full of Questions. The other apprentices should learn this from you. They are too impressed by raw power. They do not understand that speed is life.” Inneioleia gestured to Haol. “Show him.”

Haoleise bowed. And then his spear was in my face, an inch from my left eye. He’d waited for me to blink, then brought the spear there before I had time to do anything. Inneioleia grabbed a hold of my arm to keep from stumbling back.

Haol rubbed the hair on his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry I frightened you, but it will help you remember.” He put down the spear and picked up his bow and arrows. “Watch again.”

This time, I felt the stirrings of qi coming from him. He drew and released, normally at first, but then he sped up. Like, really sped up. To Legolas levels of fast archery. And then he applied Spiral Pierce to the arrows, and it felt and sounded like a semi-automatic rifle being fired downrange.

After the last arrow, the qi dissipated. His face was covered in sweat, and he fought to keep his shoulders from slumping. “My skill is polished,” he said with a wry smile, “but my qi-well is shallow. Constitution is easy to train at first, but then hard, while Spirit is always hard. Very few have as deep a well of qi as you. You will be a little devil once you learn to fight properly.”

“Enough,” Inneioleia said. “If you keep talking like this, he will think his teeth are strong enough to chew rocks.”

Haoleise bowed. “Yes, master.”

Inneioleia gestured for me to follow. “Come, I will get you the spell. There is still some time before Dwilla arrives.”

The Hunter’s Lodge had two small rooms dedicated to meditation. Each was furnished simply with a rug woven with a pattern of interlocked circles, a cushion topped with beaver fur, and a candlestone set into the wall.

The air was musty and still. I could hear people moving and working on the other side of the door, but the little room felt like its own world. In my lap was a thin book.

Like the qi spell catalog, this book was covered in animal hide—rabbit, if I had to guess. Inside, the pages were vellum and contained illustrations of the human body’s anatomy and meridians. Golden arrows pointed the way for qi to flow, with the meridians in the body highlighted.

There were mental images and intentions to maintain as well. Those were harder to interpret, except there was a section of bone attached to the last page of the book. The bone was smooth and well-polished, likely from years of apprentices touching it. Faintly, so faintly, I perceived a thread of qi inside.

The uekisheile, impatient with my translations, sprouted from my hand and dove directly into the bone to experience the feeling for themselves. They hummed in happy surprise. Interesting-interesting-interesting!

Not-eat-qi, I quickly sent. Important-resource-use.

Understand-not-eat. Just-sense-fast. They amplified and transmitted the qi intent directly to my brain.

I don’t know what I’d expected. Maybe the jolt of a strong cup of coffee or the buzz of too much sugar?

The reality was single-mindedness. It was a kind of thoughtless instinct, purest action and reaction—the wind chasing after a leaf dancing just out of reach. The intent was the void, empty of everything, so that nothing weighed it down.

Good-to-live, the uekisheile said. Good-to-learn new-things-new. World-is-wide. We-are-happy.

The unencumbered nature of the qi stirred something deep within me. The feeling was freedom at its most essential, and it washed through my heart and brain.

I hadn’t woken up this morning thinking my mind would be blown. I certainly hadn’t expected a transcendental experience. And it wouldn’t have happened if not for the uekisheile. Their  connection to my consciousness made all the difference. The feeling in the rabbit bone would’ve been so much quieter without their amplification.

Together, the uekisheile and I started moving my qi in the patterns outlined by the book. We experimented, which really meant that I tried to keep up with their permutations of my qi.

We’d spent a few hours in the meditation room before someone clapped outside the door. “It is Inneioleia to tell you Dwilla is here.”

“I’ll be out shortly,” I called through the door. The extra time was necessary, because my hands were shaking. A small part of me watched in fascination, as they were almost moving too fast to see. But mostly, I was horrified to have them out of my control.

Much-qi-rampaging, I thought to the uekisheile.

Agree-we-agree. Needs-whole-body absorb-excess-intent.

Can-we-stop? Shaking-interesting-disturbing.

The uekisheile snorted, which was a first, but then, I wasn’t the only one learning from the villagers. They were too. You-need-control much-too-much.

Not-feel-safe, I said.

We-are-safe! The uekisheile struck the boundary of my heart dantian, and waves of qi rolled through my meridians. We-love-us! We-protect-us. We-will-grow strong-together-strong. We-protect-family.

The uekisheile’s outburst seemed to come out of nowhere, but I sensed its origins from the contours of their intent. This is about Billisha and Aluali, I thought. You’re angry because I won’t let you inhabit them. We talked about this already. Back at the Glen—

Not-not-angry. Want-respect-trust. They snorted again. Ollie/Eight-is-slow. Understand-you-will. Time-brings-understanding. Now-go-play. We-make-stronger.

I sat there, staring into space and coming to grips with… I think it was my first spat with the uekisheile. We’d had several long conversations before about their desire to send offshoots of themselves into Billisha and Aluali. I didn’t think it was a good idea without their consent, and in my mind that meant waiting until they were adults.

I hadn’t realized the uekisheile was still attached to the idea. No, hold on. It wasn’t the idea itself. It was—

I flashed back to my early ‘conversations’ with Helen. She’d drilled it into my at-the-time thick skull that it was sometimes less about the fight’s cause and more about the fighters’ attitudes toward one another. I’d always loved her, but my respect for her was slower to build. It needed me to let go of some of my born-family’s baggage.

The uekisheile and I had also had a small run-in when they’d taken over my dream. At the center of both of these fights was… the issue of control. Specifically, of my wanting to stay in control of our relationship-partnership-being. Of me not trusting the uekisheile.

This wasn’t Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and I wouldn’t be turning into a pod person anytime soon. I felt the uekisheile’s intent, and they didn’t want to take over, neither me nor the kids. What they did want was more authority-agency. They wanted to be true-family and not a family-dog.

I spaced out enough for Inneioleia to clap outside the door.

“Eight, are you well? The reeve waits for you.”

“I’m well. Just fine, really. I’ll be out soon.”

I stood to hurriedly put on my gear. My hands were still shaking, so the uekisheile absorbed the spasming qi, doing it without comment. A quick doublecheck made sure I was presentable before I opened the door.

Inneioleia gazed at my face, then he took my hands in his to examine them. He moved aside my chain shirt, and put his hand on my chest to feel my heart. He watched my pupils dilate as he moved my head toward and away from light coming from the open doorway.

With a grunt, he stepped aside and said, “Go.”

Beyond him, Mumu and Tegen squatted on the ground chatting. Dwilla stood with her arms crossed, and her face told me she was annoyed for having been kept waiting.

Tegen led the way, while Mumu scouted ahead. Our task this time was to escort Dwilla to Fort Sugar Shack.

We were a quiet bunch. Previously, Tegen had used Signed Diaksh to instruct Teila and me while we were in the forest, but this time, we were all alert and watchful, doing our best to be a calm presence around a tense and still-upset Dwilla. I apologized to her before we left, but it didn’t seem to help. Fortunately, it was only a relatively short hike.

Mumu had scouted ahead, and we found her looking through the ruined gate. “All clear,” she signed.

The place looked the same as it had before. From the outside, the defensive wall seemed untouched, but once we moved past the burned gate, we saw how the fire had blackened the stone walls.

Tegen stood guard at the gate, while Mumu and Haol roved the interior to hunt for anything interesting.

Dwilla sighed when she saw the damage. “This is worse than I thought.”

She walked over to where Bindeise had processed the maple sap. The equipment had warped in the fire, but all of it still looked usable. She tested each piece, from the vats to the boiler, and even the kettle Bindeise must’ve used to brew tisanes. Her thorough examination reminded me that she had the Detail Oriented talent.

When she finished her catalog of the equipment, she asked, “Where is Bindeise?”

I led her to the residence, and the bedroom where I’d found the skeleton laid out.

With another sigh, Dwilla stood over him. “Such a waste of skill and talent. It takes great courage and endurance to live outside the village. Bindeise had both of those, and more importantly, he had stubbornness. He would not let the forest beasts drive him from his purpose.” She shook her head. “That he ended his own life and deprived the beasts of his meat and silverlight must’ve been a last act of spite.” A wry smile came and went. “He could be difficult, our Bindeise, even before he lost his family.”

After she’d translated the words I didn’t know, I felt compelled to add my two cents: “If it’d been me, and I lost my family like he did, I would’ve hunted every animal in this forest to extinction.”

Dwilla’s eyebrows rose. “So vengeful, our Eight. Such a sharp spear, and growing sharper every day, or so the lodge master tells me.” She nodded to herself. “All for the good of Voorhei, as it should be.” The tension she’d been carrying left her then, and she gave me an absent-minded pat on the head.

I ducked out from under her hand, but Dwilla didn’t notice—her attention was still on the skeleton. She looked confused, her eyes focused in thought or memory. Dwilla gently moved the skull so that the ‘face’ was turned toward us. The jaw swung open to show the corpse’s teeth rimmed in black where the lips and gums had charred.

“Bindeise’s teeth were not like this; there were some missing.” Dwilla turned to me. “Call Tegen and have Mumu watch the gate.”

I did as she asked and returned with a curious Tegen in tow. We found Dwilla examining the bones of the skeleton’s back.

“Bindeise, he had teeth missing, yes?”

Tegen nodded. “Yes, the whole family had bad teeth.”

“And these.” Dwilla gestured to where the bones were scored and chipped. “These were left by a weapon?”

Tegen leaned in to examine the marks. “Yes, a short knife or dagger. The marks a longer weapon leaves are different.”

“This is not Bindeise, and it was not a suicide.” Dwilla gently put down the bones and turned to me. “Take me to the other body.”

We gathered Haol and Mumu, and hiked the short distance to the other body. When we arrived, I noticed right away that the skeleton was missing some teeth.

“Is this Bindeise?” I asked.

Dwilla knelt for a closer look. “I believe so.” She turned over the bones. “And a knife was used to kill him too.”

“Then who does the other body belong to?” I asked.

Dwilla stood and wiped her hands against each other. She turned her gaze from the body to the hunters around her. “The fire was from the turn of the year?”

All the hunters nodded. That was certainly what it looked like from the growth of the plants in the fire’s aftermath. It’d taken place over the winter, about half a year ago.

Dwilla continued: “The only people missing from that time were Woldec, Akbash, Kiertie, Biaka, and Grunthen. We know of Woldec and his family. Grunthen’s fate is less certain, but he probably died to the kalihchi bear. However, he was the only person missing from the village then. It might be his body back at the sugar-making compound. But why? It would not make sense for him to be there.”

“Is there a way to make sure?” I asked.

“A cleansing fire was used on the body,” Tegen said, shaking his head.

“Probably to hide that it was a murder,” Dwilla said, “and not a suicide.”

“Grunthen was Lightning-Touched. Maybe some lightning qi remained?” Mumu asked.

This time, I shook my head. “I didn’t notice any.”

“The cleansing fire would have eaten the dead qi, as well as the silver and darklight,” Tegen said.

“Could someone…” I started to say, prompted by my paranoia. “Could someone have tried to hide Grunthen’s identity with the cleansing fire?”

The others frowned in thought.

“And maybe Bindeise saw it happen,” I said. “Then, when he tried to run away, the killer chased after him and killed him too.”

“Why not use cleansing fire on both bodies?” Mumu asked. “There would have been time to come back and do that.”

“Because the killer didn’t need to hide Bindeise’s identity,” I said. “However, something about the other person’s identity would’ve caused problems. I don’t know, it’s just an idea.”

“If it is Grunthen,” Dwilla said, frowning, “then it will cause a big storm. But how do we explain his presence at Bindeise’s house?”

I scratched my head. “Yeah, that’s a good question, and I honestly don’t know.”

On the way to Voorhei, I felt a chill run up and down my spine. It was my responsibility to watch our backtrail, yet I didn’t see anything following us. When I asked Mumu to investigate, she turned up signs of a giant javelina moving through the area, but the tracks were at least four or five days old. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, though, and it trailed me all the way back to the Hunter’s Lodge.

The hunters waited while Dwilla talked to the lodge master. Mumu must’ve noticed my anxiety, because she ruffled my hair.

“Be easy, Little Pot. Without their light, the dead are dead and will not walk again. You will not have to fight them like you did Woldec and his family.”

“It’s not zombies I’m worried about,” I said, muttering.

“Then what—”

Inneioleia held a hand up to get our attention, then gave each of the hunters five taak for their service that morning. I also received an extra three of the small silver coins for leading the party to the second corpse. The initial cost to join the lodge was high, but the return so far had been good. So far, I’d earned two eltaak, eight taak, and a qi spell.

Mumu grinned at her second payout in two days. She laughed when I dodged her attempt to pinch my cheek. “You are good luck for me.” Suddenly, her hand shot forward, faster than I could react, but instead of a pinch she gave my cheek a light pat. Her grin spread. “Have a bright morning, Eight. Call for me if you find another body in the forest.”

With a wave she left the lodge, and Tegen and the other hunters followed soon after. While Inneioleia and Dwilla continued to discuss the events at Fort Sugar Shack, I went back to the meditation room. I still had a lot to learn about Dog’s Agility.

The uekisheile’s qi still felt troubled, but the time passed uneventfully.

It happened that night. After the kids and Bihei had gone to sleep and I was slumbering myself, I dreamt of looking up from the tangle of the children’s bodies to see a man watching us from the foot of the bed.

He was thickset, with broad shoulders and big hands. He had red, angry eyes and hair in disarray. There weren’t twigs snarled within, but it looked like there ought to be.

I got up and left my body sleeping with the children. When the man saw I was ready, he turned to leave the longhouse—that was when I saw the back of his white tunic was stained with two bright red circles.

Through the sleeping village we traveled, the three-quarter moon limning the earth with a soft white light. When we passed through the village gate, I recalled my weapons and armor to me, just like in the spirit journey where I’d met Helen and my grandparents.

We walked under the dark night and the bright stars. The trees stood as silent witnesses, and the wind quieted where we passed. Time flowed as it always did, but my sense of it was distorted. I felt like I walked for days, yet I also felt like we arrived in a flash to the place where we’d left Bindeise’s body. He had no family left, so Dwilla had performed a simple ritual over him. Otherwise, she had left the scene untouched.

Bindeise’s ghost looked down at his remains. I noticed that an animal had rooted through them, looking for anything left over, so I knelt to put the bones back in order. It wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the ghost, but I hoped the gesture of goodwill would be well received.

He grimaced, and the expression made it look like he had a rake for a mouth. Dwilla was right—Bindeise had teeth missing. The grimace faded as quickly as it’d come. The ghost lifted his hands, palms up, and recalled a small chest to himself. It was only about nine inches wide and six inches tall, but when he opened it I saw the inside was full of coins—a mix of taak, eltaak, and a single glimmer of gold in the moonlight.

The ghost’s angry eyes glared down at the body, then at the chest in his hands. I wanted to sign to ask what he wanted, but something interfered with my ability to communicate. It was like that part of me was blocked off—I was just as mute as the ghost.

Back and forth his eyes traveled, and I could feel the will in him to make me understand his intent. Was his death caused by the treasure in his hands? Was the treasure a reward for finding his killer?

With a snap, the chest’s lid closed. The wind blew, harsh and stinging. My eyes closed to protect them, and when I opened them again, I realized was in my bed, awake for real this time.

“Damn ghosts,” I said to the still-sleeping household.

9

Gift and Curse

When I was a kid—it must’ve been the fourth grade, because the assignment was for Mrs. Mcgillicuddy—I had to write a report on the courthouse in downtown Portland. Mi abuela offered to take me, which had surprised everyone in the family—until she showed them a year-old letter informing her that she needed to review some paperwork for her green card.

That wasn’t a fun day. The two of us went from office to office, and I had to translate the frustrated requests of the civil servants into Spanish, and the iron-willed demands of my grandmother into English. I remembered a lot of looming adults, and I got an A+ on the paper. Mrs. Mcgillicuddy wrote that it was a ‘unique perspective’ and that next time ‘your grandmother shouldn’t wait a year to respond to a government letter.’

No kidding, Sherlock. If the family had had the courage to yell at my grandmother for waiting so long, they would’ve.

Anyway, after the adventure at the courthouse, my grandmother and I sat on the steps surrounding Pioneer Square, and together we watched the people walk past. She must’ve felt bad about what had happened, because she bought me an ice cream cone.

“Too many people,” she said.

“It’s not as many as Mexico City,” I said.

She frowned. “Listen first, then talk. The people are fewer, but there are more that are haunted. Possessed.”

“There are ghosts?” I asked.

“There are always spirits,” she said, her dark eyes flashing. She was a small, thin woman, but steel ran through her spine and limbs. When she gestured to point at someone walking past, I thought the fabric of the world would tear like a cheap t-shirt. “There, that man with the silly haircut. The one dressed all in black. He is possessed. And that young woman; the yellow is a terrible color for her, but it is her mother’s favorite. The mother’s ghost drives her to wear it.” My grandmother pursed her lips in distaste. “There are too many disrespectful dead here, and not enough people of power to put them to rest.”

The cone dribbled cream onto my hand, unnoticed. “Are spirits bad?”

“Of course not. There are the respectful dead, as well as the spirits of the animals, the earth, and the sky. Some are helpful, and many are dangerous. That is why you must always be careful, Oliver. There are monsters hidden in the corners of the world.” She sniffed. “Your father refuses to let me teach you these things. He was always a foolish boy.”

“Maybe we should go home,” I said, the ice cream cone forgotten.

“No,” she said with a tight shake of her head. “We will stay here, and I will point out the possessed. Look at them and see if you can guess how I know. After that, we will play a game. You are fond of games, yes? Each person that passes, you will tell me if they are possessed or not.”

“Will I get points for the ones I get right?”

“Points? Like in the football? Yes, of course.”

“And what will I get for the points? What will I win?”

“Wisdom,” she said. “Truth. Protection. All the things that matter. Your abuelito teaches you how to be in the woods. I… I will teach you how to be in the world, the real world hiding under this fake one we see around us.” My grandmother nodded to herself. “Yes, I like this game. We will come here when I am not working and you are not at school, and we will play. It will be a secret between us.”

“I don’t know, abuelita. Your secrets are scary.”

“It is a scary world, Oliver, and if we don’t play, then we become like these ignorant people—easy prey to the hungry ghosts of the dead.”

Eventually, my grandmother’s clients realized they could visit her at Pioneer Square. They’d patiently sit lined up along the steps, waiting for their turn to consult her, and during the lulls in her business we’d play the game.

I learned to pay attention to the chills, the unease, the hair rising at the back of my neck, the watery feeling in my belly, and the sense of static in my eyes. When I had my first dream of a dead relative, my grandmother celebrated by making pineapple tamales and loading me down with protective charms.

I stopped listening to her wisdom, though, when I hit middle school. I… well, I was an idiot hungry for my father’s attention, so I decided to dismiss my grandmother like he had. I wrote off the feelings and perceptions as the byproducts of an overactive imagination. The dreams were just dreams, and her teachings were superstition and nothing more.

If she was disappointed, my grandmother never showed it. She went right on practicing her craft. Nothing I nor anyone else did ever swayed her from her path.

It wasn’t until later, much later, that I tried to assemble what I’d learned from her into something useful. She was gone by then, and I missed her, even as strict and uncompromising as she’d been.

Once again, dawn found me at the Hunter’s Lodge. I hadn’t slept well after dreaming of Bindeise, but I was impatient to start my day.

A hunter named Borba—a man with talents for being Hard Working and Lean—trained with Inneioleia while I waited. He had a long face, long limbs, and a scar ran that vertically across his left eye. There looked to be a wooden marble in the socket. Otherwise, he was a rather plain man in his thirties, and his technique was as plain as he was. His strikes didn’t nearly have the snap and bite of the others I’d seen.

Inneioleia focused his attacks so that they came from Borba’s blind side. When the lodge master saw me, though, he brought me into the training. I was handed a blunted spear and asked to attack whenever I saw an opening. Now that I was closer, I could see the remnants of scars along Borba’s neck, running under his jacket.

Borba didn’t seem to like me on his left, and flinched when he caught sight of my spear flickering toward him. Inneioleia took advantage of the lapse and slammed the butt of his spear into his chest.

“Focus!”

Borba nodded, his lips pressed tight. “Yes, master.”

Inneioleia attacked again, drawing his attention, but Borba kept turning his head to glance my way, even when I was just waiting for an opportunity.

Inneioleia growled. “I said focus.”

Borba responded with a tight, “Yes.”

I thrust my spear and hit Borba in the side. His return swing was late, and I had plenty of time to scramble out of the way.

“Better,” Inneioleia said. “The turn was stiff, but you didn’t flinch. Eight, keep your weight on your toes.”

What? I thought back to my response to Borba’s counter. Oh, yeah, okay, I was on my heels in my hurry to avoid it.

“Steady strikes now, Eight. For every three breaths, thrust.”

“Yes, master.”

Borba’s training session lasted until about eight in the morning. By the time we were done, we were both panting and our jackets had grown chilly from the soaked-through sweat. I sat on the ground resting, while Borba received some last-minute pointers. Then he bowed to the lodge master, and surprisingly to me, before he left. He still had a full day’s worth of work to do.

“What happened to him?” I asked.

“A wolf pack,” Inneioleia said. “Their territory is to the south, but they sometimes range into our hunting areas. They’d separated Borba from his team, but he fought them off long enough to be rescued.”

My eyebrows rose in surprise. I couldn’t imagine fighting a pack of wolves on my own. Not yet, anyway.

“His spear is ordinary, but he has a strong will. It is necessary for being a hunter. One cannot enter the woods lightly.”

“But his skill…” My words trailed off, not wanting to disparage Borba. Clearly, he was well-practiced, a professional spearman, but there was a difference between him and Mumu, Haol, and even Tegen.

Inneioleia laughed. “Not everyone is talented, Little Pot. Some must strive harder than others along their path. Those from whom you are learning are the best hunters of our lodge. Only they can help you polish your potential. Speaking of which… come, we are not finished. You are not one who can criticize others—your spear is pathetic, and needs much more practice.”

It took a minute for him to explain the Diaksh words I didn’t know. Then, with his grin and my scowl, we picked up our spears again.

Flip me over, mama, I’m done. Spent, wiped, and completely tapped. Mana: zero. Qi: zero. I didn’t have a measure for stamina in my Status, but if I did, I knew it’d read zero too.

Inneioleia was a demon, a terror of training. He put me through the wringer for two more hours before leaving me a puddle of sweat and jellied muscles.

The hunters visiting the lodge looked on with sympathy… and likely relief that it wasn’t them lying on the ground feeling the world spin. Each one murmured encouragement as they walked past to talk with the lodge master.

“Be strong.”

“Keep fighting.”

“Don’t die.”

That last one felt particularly apt.

Eventually, I recovered enough to drag myself inside to sit near Inneioleia’s desk. He’d just finished dealing with a villager’s request for deer hides.

“I have questions,” I said.

“Of course you do,” Inneioleia said, turning around on his cushion.

“It’s about contributions to the lodge.” I took a moment to catch my breath. “If I brought in a chest of coins, would that count?”

“Yes, since the money would be used to strengthen the lodge and the village.”

“How much would it cost for Spiral Pierce?”

Inneioleia sighed. “Let us be clear: the spells are not for sale. They are a reward for a hunter’s contributions. Since that is the case, it depends on the village’s needs.”

“Is there a need for money?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, yes, a great need. We lost two strong hunters this last winter, so we will be forced to hire soldiers and mercenaries to make up the difference during the next. The village’s defense is not something we can leave to chance.”

“So, the amount—”

“The amount would be ten eltaak.”

“Per spell?”

“Yes,” Inneioleia said, starting to frown.

He clearly didn’t like being forced to attach a price to the spells, but I needed the information for my planning.

“What about solving Bindeise’s murder? Would that count as a contribution?”

“Only in as much as it affects the village’s wellbeing,” Inneioleia said.

“And Grunthen,” I said. “What if I found out what happened to him?”

“That would be a contribution to the lodge, and something I would reward.” Inneioleia patted me on the shoulder. “I admire your ambition, Little Pot—I can see what you plan to do—but I caution you to learn the spells slowly. Master one before you learn the next. It’s better to have one or two sharp arrows than a quiver full of blunt ones.”

Normally, that would be good advice, but I had an advantage in the uekisheile. I was sure that we could at least double the speed at which I learned the qi spells.

“Another question—”

Inneioleia snorted.

“Is there Spirit Magic available through the lodge?”

The question caught Inneioleia by surprise, but he quickly recovered and gazed at me thoughtfully. “An interesting idea. You wish to consult Bindeise’s ghost about his murder? Unfortunately, that will not work for two reasons. The first is practical—we do not have Spirit Magic. It is the domain of the Philosopher’s Lodge. The second reason is metaphysical. Do you know that word? It is hard to describe.”

The two of us fumbled through the translation, and it took a while to figure out the word for ‘metaphysical’ in particular.

Eventually, Inneioleia continued. “It is an interesting exercise talking to you, Little Pot. It makes me question the words I take for granted. But let us continue; the second reason you cannot consult Bindeise’s ghost is that ghosts cannot speak. It is Tenna’s Gift.”

“As in the god Tenna?” I asked.

“Yes, that is right. Tenna’s Gift is a ghost’s curse, as the saying goes. It is his protection to limit their influence. There was a time in the early days of the world when the dark spirits goaded people and animals to commit acts of great evil. This infuriated Tenna, and he created a wall between the living and the dead, such that the one could no longer tempt the other.”

My heart sank. Yes, I was planning to consult Bindeise’s ghost, but more importantly, I also hoped to one day be able to talk to Helen and my grandparents. I wanted to share my stories—to tell them about the kids and Ikfael, about the uekisheile and this world—and to hear their stories in return. It wasn’t that I wanted to tempt them into becoming ghosts, but a little bit of contact should be okay. Right? Ah, I’m disappointed, aren’t I? I was hoping to talk to them more than I realized.

“Do not be sad, Little Pot. It was a clever idea, but there are other ways to make contributions to the lodge. The days ahead are many and bountiful.”

I showed up at Biheila’s door bedraggled and worn out from training at the Hunter’s Lodge. The kids cried out in alarm and pulled me inside, then helped me wash and change clothes. They even fed me, since I quite literally couldn’t lift my arms above my shoulders. The last four inches to my mouth were just impossible.

They propped me up against the garden wall afterward, and chatted as they worked. I listened with half an ear as my mind roved over the morning’s events. When I realized my hands were clenched into fists, I forced the tension out with a big, deep breath.

What couldn’t be helped, couldn’t be helped. If I wouldn’t be able to talk to Helen and my grandparents, then that was the way of things.

In an effort to stop moping, I turned my thoughts to what I’d learned so far from the Hunter’s Lodge. I wasn’t good for anything else besides contemplation, so I sat in the sun for the rest of the morning, resting and thinking. I must’ve looked comfortable among the vegetables and herbs, because the kids and Biheila joined me outside for lunch.

The widow had traded with a neighbor for half a salmon, which she’d grilled and served with a parsley-like green sauce. The fish was accompanied by something like broccolini and a corn porridge.

Their stories steadily drew me in, and by the time I’d finished eating, my spirits had mostly been restored. The kids must’ve noticed, because they looked pleased with themselves. Billisha patted me on the head and told me to work hard but not to despair. The skills would come with practice.

The kids snickered when I stood up to stretch and walk around. My back was hunched, and my feeble steps made me look like a doddering old man. The children danced in a circle and made up a song just for me:

Old man Eight

Has a funny gait.

Watch him step left.

Watch him step right.

When is he going to fall?

Marches around the garden tall,

When will we watch him crawl?

Old man Eight

Has a funny gait.

The rascals, I’d get mad at them if only I’d stop smiling.

I waved off the ladybug that had landed on my cheek and righted myself back into a sitting position. Confused, I noticed that the sun had jumped a couple of hours ahead. I must’ve fallen asleep while meditating.

My muscles were terribly sore, but the pain was worth it. There was a lovely collection of skill notifications waiting for me:

Stealth has increased from 4 to 5.

Spear Arts has increased from 4 to 5.

Qi Body Arts has increased from 0 to 3.

With a groan, I levered myself up and into the longhouse, but it was empty of both children and widows. I, however, found a bowl of ripe strawberries in cream waiting for me. So sweet and delicious! I felt my body sucking in the sugar and fat.

Still groggy from my nap, it actually took a while to register that I’d gotten a new skill: Qi Body Arts. That perked me up, and I quickly checked the tooltip.

Qi Body Arts

Body and mind in harmony, you take a step toward perfection. This skill is an umbrella for qi-based magic meant to bolster, modify, and/or otherwise enhance the body.

The memories underlying the skill were mostly from the previous day, exploring the Dog’s Agility spell, but they were supplemented by the knowledge I’d gained from the Qi Body skill.

That makes sense, I thought. The two are intimately connected, after all. Still, this is good progress. The decision to come to Voorhei has been paying off nicely. And I might be able to qualify for more spells if I can find a way to identify Bindeise’s killer.

I had about five hours left until sundown and considered hiking out to Fort Sugar Shack to look for clues. On the other hand, I didn’t trust myself to fight off any of the forest’s creatures in my current condition. Tomorrow then, assuming the lodge master doesn’t turn me into jelly again.

I rooted around in my memories for ways to approach this self-assigned quest to find Bindeise and Grunthen’s murderer. Well, Dwilla wasn’t convinced the other body belonged to Grunthen, but nothing else made sense given what I knew.

In my previous life, I preferred science fiction and fantasy, but I’d seen my fair share of British crime dramas. They were a favorite of Helen—so much so that she had a cardboard cutout of Diana Rigg from Mystery! in her office.

Motive, means, and opportunity—those were the three things I needed to determine to find the murderer. For now, motive and opportunity were out of reach, but means was a different story.

Means meant a knife and the skill to use it, as well as a high-enough Stealth skill to stab two people in the back, one of which may have been a trained hunter. It was either that, or the victims had known the murderer and hadn’t been afraid to turn their backs to them. The murderer also needed access to cleansing fire.

Who else besides a hunter carried it? Who else besides a hunter trained their Stealth skills? And if they hadn’t used Stealth, who was known well enough by Bindeise and Grunthen for the two men to let down their guard around them?

I sighed, thinking about the answers to those questions. I’d enjoyed the camaraderie between the brothers and sisters of the Hunter’s Lodge. Billisha had been right—the lodge was like a second family. It was sad to think that one of them may be a murderer.

10

The Hunter’s Lodge Gossips

It was early in the evening, and the lodge bustled with activity. Groups of hunters chatted as they cared for their weapons and tools. The murmur of conversation was punctuated by the twang of bowstrings from the courtyard behind the lodge. The place smelled of oil, iron, blood, and entrails.

Two of the butchering tables were occupied. On one, a deer was getting skinned. On the other, three badgers had been laid out, their fur streaked orange and red like the paint job on an old hot rod with flames coursing down the car’s body.

Nearby, two hunters applied salves and bandages to the burns on a third’s arms. Inneioleia stood behind the injured man, a hand on his back, and I could sense the tickle of qi moving between them.

Borba, the ordinary hunter I’d trained with that morning, spotted my arrival and waved me over. He had me listen in on his team's plans for the following day. They hadn’t had any luck hunting today and were hoping the elk territories would be more productive.

When the shop talk was done, they switched to gossip. Of course, the big news was about the events at Fort Sugar Shack, and Borba’s team pressed me for the details. They had the bare bones of the story already, but somehow a flock of cutter hawks had gotten added into it.

According to the hunters, the small birds could strip a man to his bones in minutes, and they were impossible to fight off. The only viable responses were to hide, run, or cast area-of-effect magic. Fortunately, there wasn’t any evidence of cutter hawks near Fort Sugar Shack, so I let the hunters know that the rumor was unfounded.

I also asked about Bindeise’s reputation in town. It was Borba who responded.

“He was always a sour man. How he could make such sweet things was always a mystery. His only love was for his family, and when they died, his heart died with them.”

I was on the hunt for a motive, so I had to ask the obvious question: “Did he have any enemies or anyone he argued with before he was murdered?”

“No one saw him enough for that,” Borba said. “He hid himself away most of the year and only came to the village to sell his maple sugar.”

“The sugar’s so expensive,” I said. “He must’ve been wealthy.”

Borba laughed. “Of course! And yet he was such a miser! He hoarded his taak, and never came to the lodge to buy meat or hides.”

“Then if someone was hungry for his wealth?” I asked.

“Their stomach would stay empty,” Borba said. “Bindeise lived in the forest—think of all the places for him to hide his fortune. No one in Voorhei would be so foolish as to try to rob him.”

“What about bandits, then?” I asked. “Or someone from outside of Voorhei?”

“You really are a Little Pot of Questions, aren’t you?” Borba said, laughing.

His team laughed with him. My hair got ruffled, and someone handed me a strip of salty-sweet jerky. The meat was incredibly tough, but surprisingly delicious. I sucked on it like a jawbreaker.

Borba grinned at seeing me indulged. “To answer your question, Little Pot—a bandit wouldn't care about hiding the tracks of their crime. They would kill, plunder, and move on.”

That’s right. There’s another body, one the murderer took pains to disguise. “Do you think the other body belongs to Grunthen?”

“I can’t imagine it,” Borba said. “Grunthen was many things, but weak wasn’t one of them. None of the element-touched are.”

Our conversation was interrupted when all the apprentices were called to the butchering table. The hunters wanted to show us the badgers’ interiors.

The carcasses looked ordinary without their fur, but the hunters pointed to the thickened bones, the sharper-than-expected claws, and the unusual sac in the chest cavities. They gently pried the sacs loose and set each within their own metal lockbox.

Borba came up beside me to whisper that each fire badger sac was worth between two and four eltaak. The oil inside was apparently a useful alchemical ingredient. As a demonstration, a hunter set a lit rush against a single drop of the oil, and it burst into flame. The hunter explained that the fire badgers used mana-magic to cast a flamethrower-like spell, and the oil not only enhanced the spell but also caused the fire to stick to its prey.

Borba appeared quite envious of the other hunters’ haul. The fire badgers could easily sell for half an antaak each. On top of the valuable oil sac, the fur was thick and luxurious, the meat was delicious, and a broth made from the bones supposedly helped a man’s virility.

I was deeply curious to see if I could find a spell rune inside the fire badgers’ carcasses, but when I asked about buying the meat and bones, I was told that they’d already been claimed.

The show over, the apprentices drifted back to what they’d been doing before. I was hanging out with Borba’s crew again, when Mumu tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hello, Little Pot. I see you are asking more questions. Did these scoundrels at least show you the badgers’ fire oil first?”

“They did, thank you. I’ll be sure to avoid getting sprayed if I ever find one.”

“Good, good. You are such a clever pot. Most apprentices only think of the taak, so they don’t learn to fear the fire until after they’ve been burned.” Mumu nodded to Borba’s crew, and they made space for her to join them. “Now, let me guess. You are talking about Bindeise the Sugar Maker.”

The hunters laughed, not at all embarrassed to be caught gossiping. If anything, they were anxious to hear Mumu’s opinion on the matter.

“He was robbed,” she said. “With his fortune, what else could it be?”

“But what about the other body?” I asked. “If it was Grunthen—”

“It was an accomplice,” Mumu said, “but the thief decided they no longer wanted to share the treasure, and so they killed them too.”

“But why use cleansing fire, then?” Borba asked.

Mumu chuckled. “What? I have to answer you too? Isn’t one Little Pot of Questions enough?” She shook her head, smiling. “Truthfully, I don’t know why the murderer used cleansing fire. Perhaps the accomplice was someone known. Our Eight thinks it was Grunthen. Does anyone know if he needed taak?”

“None of the element-touched are in want of taak,” a hunter said, grumbling.

“A truth if there ever was one,” Borba said.

A dreamy look came over Mumu’s face. “If only I were one too.”

Borba sputtered in laughter. “You? You are Scout Born already. If you were element-touched, the heavens would curse you for your good fortune. Our Inneioleia could finally retire as lodge master.”

“What are you saying?” Mumu said, protesting. “A lodge master should be old and gray and laden with wisdom. I am still young, with many bountiful years ahead of me.”

Unbeknownst to her, Inneioleia had finished with the injured hunter and came up behind her. “Really now, am I so feeble that my spear shakes? Can I no longer hunt?”

Mumu froze, and her face scrunched up in dismay. “Master, we were just joking around—”

Inneioleia’s face was stern. One had to look closely to see the amusement deep within his eyes. “Take up your spear, Mumu. Let us see how far you have traveled on your path.”

The whole lodge went quiet, but there were smiles on every face—except for Mumu’s. She glared at the other hunters as she picked up her spear to follow the lodge master outside. The rest of us piled after her.

We gathered in a circle around the two hunters. Bets were being placed right and left. They all expected Inneioleia to win—the only question was how long Mumu would last.

Mulallamu the Hunter (Human)

Talents: Scout-Born, Tracker, Wild Sense

versus

Inneioleia the Hunter’s Lodge Master (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Wood-Wise, Keen-Eyed, Spear Friend, Bear Bane, Survivor

Nascent Talent: Tricksy

I’d gotten to know the lodge master enough for Talent Scout to identify a nascent talent. Tricksy, huh? Yeah, that’s accurate. When we were sparring, his spear was never quite where I thought it would be. It’s going to be interesting to see how Mumu deals with him.

The two hunters stood opposite each other on the hard-packed earth. Mumu carried her spear in two hands and waited for Inneioleia to attach his shield prosthetic. Her earlier dismay had disappeared and was replaced by an intense focus. I could almost feel the sharpness of her intent.

When Inneioleia nodded to show he was ready, Mumu vanished. All that was left was a puff of dust where her feet had been. I threw qi and mana into my eyes, but barely caught a glimpse of her dashing straight at the lodge master. Qi spun to pierce through his defense, but the attack was harmlessly deflected away by Inneioleia’s shield, only for Mumu to launch an attack from the side in the next moment.

The first attack had been a mirage—she’d flickered to the left before it landed and sent the qi on without her. The real strike came, but again Inneioleia deflected it, this time with a subtle gesture of his spear. Her spear knocked out of line, Mumu vanished before Inneioleia could counterattack.

“That’s one,” Borba whispered.

I caught sight of Mumu behind Inneioleia. Dust billowed across the ground—she must’ve rolled into position. Her spear rose as if from the earth to thrust low. She didn’t use Spiral Pierce, so there was nothing to signal an attack was coming, but Inneioleia still responded—he leapt into the air, turning the jump into a somersault and the somersault into an attack with his spear pointed at Mumu’s back. Her thrust foiled, she extended the movement into a forward roll, her spear tucked close.

“Two,” Borba said.

It took a breath for the hunters to reposition, and then Mumu was gone again. This time, I spotted her blending with the land, her body in dynamic motion and her hair undulating like the wind. My eyes wanted to slide past, but I willed them to stick.

The butt of her spear rose to knock Inneioleia’s spear aside, but the lodge master was already moving, stepping into her range. His shield pushed her spear aside, and his leg rose in a stomp kick. With an incredible contortion, Mumu twisted to the side.

“Three,” Borba said, excited.

But Mumu was mid-step, her spear out of position, while Inneioleia was close, within arm’s reach. It was perfect positioning for his one-handed grip, and he jabbed his spear into her torso.

“Ah, well,” Borba said, disappointed. “Three is the direction of five, as the saying goes. Our Mumu’s skill will only get better with time.”

All around us, the hunters groaned or cheered depending on how they’d gambled. The dust settled, and Mumu rubbed her side where Inneioleia had jabbed her.

“You didn’t have to hit so hard.”

“And would you remember if I didn’t? How many times have I had to tell you—yes, you are fast and agile, but the closer you are to your prey, the smaller those advantages become. Distance. You must master distance, so you can naturally find and hold the space that lets you use your most powerful attacks against your prey, while limiting your prey’s most powerful attacks against you.”

“Yes, master,” Mumu said, admonished.

“And so you have all seen,” Inneioleia said to the gathered hunters, “that our Mumu has yet again failed to fulfill her promise to replace me. According to the terms of our bet, we are all free to call her Little Mumu for the next ten days.”

Mumu gritted her teeth but didn’t gainsay the lodge master.

“Don’t worry, Little Mumu,” a hunter said. “You’ll do better next time.”

“Three was an excellent showing, Little Mumu.”

“Our Little Mumu is growing so fast. One day, she’ll last ten rounds for sure.”

With a growl, Mumu left the scene. “You are all children!”

Borba clapped me on the shoulder and turned me to face him. “Little Eight, whatever you do in your life, heed this advice well: never let the lodge master overhear you promising that you will one day overcome him. And never ever make a bet with him about it.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. It doesn’t look like Mumu was upset, though. More annoyed than anything. And the spar appeared to have been helpful to her and the other hunters. I certainly found it educational. The way they both moved—that was amazing.

At the lodge’s front door, I saw Haol consoling Mumu. He’d just arrived, and she was explaining what had happened. When she started to narrate the events of the fight, I dashed over to listen.

They noted my arrival, but other than a friendly ruffle of my hair from Haol, their conversation continued without pause. If anything, Mumu went into greater detail for my benefit, explaining her thinking at each step.

Well, at the speed at which they’d fought, there was very little room for thinking. It was more an amalgamation of action, instinct, and training. Still, it was interesting to hear her perspective.

She’d used Dog’s Agility, Spiral Pierce, and her innate hiding ability. As for Inneioleia, he’d only used Dog’s Agility to keep up with her speed. The rest was skill, talent, and experience.

“Could you force your way past his shield?” I asked. “It was your two hands against his one.”

Haol shook his head. “He didn’t use it this time, but the lodge master also has Bear’s Strength.”

Mumu scowled. “He can use Bear’s Strength, Dog’s Agility, Iron Heart, Spiral Pierce, Nature’s Spring, and Body Burner.”

“I don’t know Body Burner,” I said.

“It’s an advanced qi spell that drains the body,” Haol said. “The effects, though, are debilitating—permanently so. The spell is a last resort.”

“A handful of the older hunters have it,” Mumu said. “They’re known as the Last Line.”

“Oh,” I said.

From the way she’d said ‘Last Line,’ there was a weight and responsibility attached to the name, and a certain desperation too.

Mumu turned somber. “Maybe I should join the Knight Ithia’s soldiers after all. My spear is too weak. If I go and return with my skills improved, the lodge would benefit.”

Haol didn’t seem surprised by her idea. Instead he gazed at her thoughtfully. “A person chooses their own path—that is the way—but there are other options to grow your spear. Not all require you to leave Voorhei.”

“You just don’t want me to go,” Mumu said.

“That’s true,” Haol said. “But Dena and I would wait for you if necessary. You know that. No, I am thinking about what’s best for your spear. The way soldiers fight is different from the way hunters fight.”

“But where else would I find a spear stronger than Inneioleia’s? He’s a Spear Friend, for heaven’s sake.”

Haol’s gaze deepened. He waited patiently for the point to land on its own.

When it did, Mumu punched him on the shoulder. “I hate when you are like this. Yes, yes, I understand. If Inneioleia is the best teacher, then it’s simply a matter of the student training harder.”

“So what will you do?” Haol asked, clearly suppressing a smile.

“Stay,” Mumu said. “For now. Until some smug excuse of a hunter angers me into joining the land soldiers.”

“Then let us hope that never happens,” Haol said.

“It’s inevitable,” Mumu said, shaking her head in mock sadness. “For some, they cannot help it—a critical failure of their character.”

“And yet there are still those who love them,” Haol said.

“Which I will never understand,” Mumu said. “Dena is far too good for you.”

“Speaking of,” Haol said. “Will you join us for dinner tonight? She has a gift for you.”

“A gift, you say.” Mumu made a show of thinking about it. “If it’s from Dena, then I will accept.”

The two of them were so lost in their flirting that they’d completely forgotten about me. They left me standing there without a word.

I went back to sit with Borba’s crew. “Who’s Dena?”

“Denela. You met her at your initiation. She’s Haol’s wife.” Borba grinned. “The two of them are courting our Little Mumu.”

“And doing well, from the looks of things,” a hunter said.

“I bet they’ll marry in the fall,” another said. “Within fifteen weeks.”

“I’ll take that bet for two taak,” a hunter said.

“As will I,” another replied. “Mumu and Haol are patient hunters. They’ll wait until they're ready, which to my mind means at least seventeen weeks.”

The hunters clamored and argued, their gossip having shifted to the love lives of Mumu and Haol.

“Seems to me,” Borba said, “that we have a member of Mumu’s team here with us. What do you think, Eight? When will they marry?”

As if I was supposed to know. But, well, if I had to guess… there was a tingling, a nudge from a skill called Relationships. There was affection in Mumu’s eyes, but also determination.

“She won’t marry this year. Not yet. Our Little Mumu has something to prove.”

The hunters had roared with laughter when I called her ‘Our Little Mumu,’ but otherwise they seemed to ignore my prediction. I was just a child, after all.

I stuck around the lodge until the light started to slant through the open door. Slowly, the hunters departed until only Inneioleia and I were left. The quiet was a marked contrast to the boisterous chatter from earlier. The only sound came from the scribbling of Inneioleia’s quill. He sat at his desk, tallying the day’s results.

His back was straight, but he paused often. When I came around to ask him the questions I’d been saving up, I saw that he was rubbing his eyes. He looked tired; his straight spine masked shoulders that slumped slightly forward.

He picked up his quill to continue writing in the lodge’s ledger. Without looking my way, he said, “So what questions does our Little Pot have for me?”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to ask? It’s been a long day.”

“For both of us,” Inneioleia said, “and yet here you are, ready to learn. Isn’t it my responsibility to teach?”

“Not at the cost of your health,” I said.

Inneioleia turned to look at me. “You are such a strange child. It is as if the forest gave you wisdom, when for any other person, it would take their life. It makes an old hunter wonder.” He started writing again. “The sooner your questions are answered, the sooner we can both retire for the night.”

I hesitated, but decided to keep him company, at least until he was done with the ledger. A few questions while he works shouldn’t hurt.

“I was wondering about Grunthen,” I said. “I asked around, and… he wasn’t very well liked, was he?”

Inneioleia paused to sigh. “Neither was Woldec. It comes from being element-touched, you see.”

“People were jealous?”

“Some, yes, but—” Inneioleia paused to consider his answer. “The element-touched are born with a talent for power. They start farther along the Path to Perfection than the rest of us, so they grow up believing in their superiority. Do you know that word? They think their teeth are strong enough to chew rocks.” Inneioleia shook his head. “And often enough it is true, especially if the talent is passed down from generation to generation.”

Inneioleia gestured outside the lodge, then continued: “Voorhei’s walls were made so tall because we had an Earth-Touched family. The tunnels under our pyramid are so extensive for the same reason.”

“Just to be clear, it was Woldec’s family who did this work?”

“Yes, over many generations, but now there is no one with the talent left.”

“What about his brother Ghitha?”

“Ghitha is the last of their line and cannot sire children. He has tried many times and spent many taak to no avail.”

“And Grunthen?”

“He was the first of his family to be Lightning-Touched. They were the poorest of the poor and suddenly became wealthy. Now, they are somewhere in between, at least until he returns.”

I tried to assemble everything I’d heard into a portrait of the two men. “So Woldec and Grunthen threw their weight around.”

Inneioleia snorted. “What an interesting expression. Yes, the two knew the village depended on them.” A bitter smile crossed his face. “I cannot tell you the number of times Ghitha argued that his brother should be the lodge master. In his eyes, Woldec was the answer to all problems.”

“Did Grunthen feel the same way?”

“Grunthen only thought about Grunthen. In truth, he cared for two things: taak and the admiration of others. As his power grew, his character shrank.” Inneioleia shook his head sadly. “I failed him as a teacher.”

“But I heard that he didn’t want for money.”

“Taak flowed to Grunthen like water, and he let it flow away just as easily, spending it as if it was endless. And perhaps for him it was. With lightning in his hands, he could safely hunt almost any beast in the forest.”

“But not the kalihchi bear.”

“No, not the King of the Forest.” Inneioleia looked down with regret at his missing left hand. “The hunts for that one have all ended in failure. But Woldec and Grunthen believed that their power made them clever. They must’ve thought they could sneak past while he slept. Although for what reason they risked it, only the heavens know.”

“So you think Grunthen died to the bear, and that it wasn’t his body we found at Bindeise’s house.”

“Let me ask you a question, Little Pot. Why would he be there?”

“You said he spent money like water. Bindeise had a lot of it hidden away.”

“And however much that was, Woldec offered more to join his venture. Grunthen never said how much, but many of us heard his bragging—saying how he was rich and about to become even richer. He even pledged to purchase property in Albei and turn his family from farmers into merchants.” Inneioleia stroked his beard, considering. “No, Grunthen was a weak man, but no murderer. He was greedy, yet not a thief.”

I felt like I had the edges of a motive, but it kept slipping from my hands. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Such is my purpose—to teach and show the path.” Inneioleia put down his quill and blotted the ledger’s pages before closing the book. “And now I am done, so it is time for us both to rest.”

“Thank you, master. Good night.”

“Good night, our Eight. Be sure to come at dawn for your next round of training.”

That night, as had become my habit, I lay in bed reflecting on the day. I was bone tired, though, and my thoughts wandered higgledy-piggledy. It was hard to focus, but I held on to wakefulness anyway.

I was uneasy about Bindeise’s ghost visiting again. At the same time, I found myself hoping he would. He’d be unable to talk thanks to Tenna’s Gift, but I figured I could at least get confirmation that it was Grunthen who’d been killed at his house.

Bindeise didn’t show up. Instead, the uekisheile occupied my thoughts. Dog’s Agility-was-cool. It-was-whoosh whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.

I had some lingering guilt from our spat yesterday, but it didn’t seem to affect them. Both Inneioleia and Mumu were skilled, I thought.

We-sensed-Mumu vigorous-fast-bendy. Inneioleia-was-tough subtle-qi-subtle. We-want-go inside-them-sense qi-flow-qi.

But—

A flicker of annoyance rippled through the uekisheile. We-understand-danger. Ollie/Eight-taught-us importance-remaining-hidden. Ollie/Eight-taught-us moderate-desire-action. Trust-our-learning.

Sorry, I’m a natural worrier. It’s what made me a good film producer.

We-wish-we could-see-film would-like-watch.

The closest things we have to them are Ikfael’s water stories.

A breath of qi sighed out of the uekisheile. We-cannot-sense mana-yet-mana.

Keep trying, little buddy. It’s just a matter of time and practice.

I swear I felt a sly impulse. Yes-practice-yes. Practice-is-good important-important-important. Speaking-of-practice we-should-study Mumu-Inneioleia-fight. Tonight-give-permission?

Yes, I thought, and that was the last thing I remembered from that night.

11

Gift and Opportunity

The kids were up early to help me get ready, which was good because I could barely move; the training from the previous day really wore me out. From the other end of the longhouse, Aluali brought a jug of frothy goat’s milk, still warm. Billisha ladled corn porridge into a bowl for me. It was delicious—chunky with blue potatoes and dotted with flecks of meat.

Billisha seemed restless as I ate. “Tomorrow is the end of the week. Will we stay here or return to Ikfael?”

The question caught me by surprise. The plan had always been to go back to the Glen. I looked at her, but somehow she kept her thoughts from her face. Both kids watched me as I considered the question. “Would you like to stay?” I asked, feeling them out. “With Bihei?”

The widow was behind me getting ready for the day, but I felt her stop to listen for the children’s response. Aluali reached to hold Billisha’s hand, and the two glanced at each other. Encouraged, Billisha answered:

“We think that Zasha will miss Ikfael if we stay in Voorhei. And we will miss Zasha if he goes back to the Glen without us. We will miss Bihei if we go back to the Glen, but she cannot leave the village—her home is here. Our home is with Zasha. Wherever he goes is where we go. There is no good answer to the question.”

“I could go with you,” Bihei said, stepping forward. “Leave my things behind. I don’t need them. My loom, maybe, but the rest are just—”

“Don’t make a decision now,” I said, interrupting. “Our Glen is protected by a spirit, but it’s still dangerous.”

“But—” Bihei started to say, struggling to put words to her feelings.

“I understand that you… I understand things have been hard since you lost your family,” I said, “but you should consider what you want to do carefully.”

Bihei wrung her hands. I could tell she wanted to protest, but she reluctantly nodded instead. “I will think about the decision.”

We’d only been in Voorhei for five days—today was the start of the sixth—but apparently the time had been just as intense for these three as it had been for me. They’d quickly grown attached to each other, which shouldn’t have been a surprise given their individual histories.

“For the time being,” I said, “I will fulfill the obligations to the Hunter’s Lodge and come to Voorhei once a week. During that time, I can bring the children with me, and we will stay with Bihei if she is willing. These obligations will take two or three days, but we can stay longer if we want. Also, Billisha and Aluali can stay longer without me, and I can pick them up on my next visit. We have options, and we can be flexible. No life-changing decisions need to happen right now. Maybe it feels like they do, but they don’t. It’s better for everyone to take a breath and think things through.”

The rest of the meal passed in awkward silence, but that was okay. Family awkwardness was its own kind of treasure. One wouldn’t think so, but loss had a way of revealing the value of things, even things that may be uncomfortable at the time.

I rushed to arrive on time for my meeting with the lodge master. The run was painful at first, but served its purpose; it warmed up my muscles and eased their soreness. Unfortunately, the relief only lasted a short while. I got to the lodge just as the horizon was starting to brighten, and Inneioleia was already waiting for me.

We started off easy enough with simple stretches and exercises to loosen the joints, but Inneioleia was intent on demonstrating every spear form known to the Hunter’s Lodge. And I had to follow along. For four hours, I thrusted, shuffled, ducked, jumped, and parried. I fought imaginary creatures on four legs, on two legs, and on many legs. They came at me from every direction, including from the air and under the ground. There were even forms for when a hunter was trampled, caught under a creature, or otherwise being savaged.

It was ridiculous. Unless one had an eidetic memory, there was no way to remember them all: their steps, the way the torso moved, the shifts in body weight, and the hand positions. Too much. It was just too much.

Of course, I complained. I wanted to practice a single form—not even a form, a single attack—so that I could be assured I’d remember it and it’d be useful. Moving from form to form and having them all get jumbled in my memory wouldn’t be of any help.

That was when Inneioleia explained that I wasn’t expected to remember them all, not immediately anyway. Instead, we were broadening my exposure to the Spear Arts skill. He said that skills were like underground lakes, and the width of the tunnel connecting a person to the lake depended on knowledge, practice, and expertise. The wider and smoother the tunnel, the more water could be passed through.

The exercise to review all the spears forms, therefore, was a way to prepare the tunnel—to soften the ground and signal to the World Spirit, i.e. the System, that I was prepared to pursue this Path to Perfection.

I’d also be on my own for much of the time, and this exposure to the spear forms should help inform my practices with Spear Arts-Sensei later. If nothing else, it’d reduce the amount of trial and error.

As Inneioleia spoke about the World Spirit, a firecracker went off in my head, and I had a visceral recollection of the time I was high on poison mushrooms and Ikfael had performed the ritual to cleanse me of the toxins. I had been able to see my qi body then, along with other more esoteric energy structures that looked a lot like what the lodge master was describing.

According to his explanation, knowledge and expertise flowed in both directions. One drew on a skill and contributed to it at the same time. As people developed the skill over time, the improvements would become available to others who dedicated themselves to it. In some ways, it sounded like Carl Jung’s ‘collective unconscious mind,’ except it went way beyond instincts and archetypes.

Once I understood the rationale, I threw myself into the practice and strove to burn the forms into both my mind and my muscles. Afterward, we stretched, and I noticed how some of the exercises resembled yoga poses. Is there someone out there—in this world’s equivalent to India—contributing to the people’s understanding of the human body and the best ways to maintain it? If I understood the lodge master correctly, the answer was very possibly yes.

To deepen the stretches, Inneioleia used ropes and heavy flat stones. Again, the goal was to signal to the World Spirit an intention to improve a particular area. In this case, it was Agility. Yesterday, it had been Strength and Constitution.

All three were apparently important to develop, because I was also learning Dog’s Agility. The spell was hard on the body, so I needed to squeeze every bit of potential out of those three attributes to ensure I didn’t hurt myself using it.

Inneioleia described how the more we strove and the more we used up every bit of will and stamina, the more we’d be forced to reach out to something outside of ourselves to keep going, namely the World Spirit. That desperation would force the connections open.

That meant I couldn’t let my mind wander during any of the exercises. The more I brought my concentrated attention to the practices, the more effective the process was supposed to be.

So, we alternated between spear forms and stretches until noon, at which point I was a useless rag, dripping with sweat. It didn’t help that the day was hot and miserable, the humidity so thick one could almost drink the water out of the air. As soon as we were done, I immediately cast Cold Snap on the ground under us, and sank to the floor in relief.

Inneioleia seemed to appreciate the spell as well. While sitting on the ground, we ate a simple meal, drank what seemed like gallons of water, and chatted about things that’d been bugging me for a while now, including level progression.

There was apparently a small weasel-like animal called a kutha. The kutha were special in that they were all exact copies of each other, including the amount of dark and silverlight they held. And no matter how much dark and silverlight they absorbed, they always contained the same amount. The nature of the kutha was one of the mysteries of the world.

Anyway, by measuring the effect of kutha cores on people, philosophers had been able to make a chart of level progression. After our meal, we went inside so that Inneioleia could show it to me in one of his books.

Level

Kutha

1

10

2

50

3

150

4

450

5

1,350

6

1,850

7

2,850

8

4,350

9

6,350

10

12,350

I had reached Level 1 at 50 silverlight and Level 2 at 250. It was easy enough to figure out that each kutha was worth 5 dark and silverlight. So, revising their chart to reflect the actual numbers, it’d look like:

Level

Light

1

50

2

250

3

750

4

2,250

5

6,750

6

9,250

7

14,250

8

21,750

9

31,750

10

61,750

I wondered if System-Eight was laughing. His guess of 2,375 silverlight for Level 4 had turned out to be pretty close. Inneioleia said that there was a pattern under the numbers, but he didn’t know it. I’d have to ask a philosopher.

The chart at the Hunter’s Lodge only went up to Level 10, but even the wisest of the philosophers didn’t know the cap. According to legend, the highest-leveled person ever was an Emperor of Akhilaesh, which was an empire across the ocean and far to the east.

This emperor had apparently ordered his people to empty their forests on his behalf, and he’d then absorbed thousands of cores to reach the dizzying height of Level 32. The story didn’t end well for him though. The neighboring countries, afraid of the emperor’s superhuman powers, banded together to send an entire city’s worth of assassins after him.

Afterward, I spent the rest of the afternoon meditating in Bihei’s garden. The time passed peaceably, and I enjoyed the sounds of village life, especially Billisha and Aluali singing as they worked.

When I opened my eyes next, I saw a clay jar full of yogurt. It tasted sweet, salty, and tangy—like a blueberry lassi—and I eagerly drank it down in a continuous gulp, gulp, gulp. Not much later, Aluali came out to call me to the evening meal.

It was a quiet affair, with everyone lost in their own thoughts. That was understandable—Bihei had a lot to think about, and the kids were anxious about her decision. I could tell they wanted her to join us at the Glen, but it was a lot to ask of someone. The kids and I had no choice about being separated from our homes, but Bihei did. I wanted her to properly exercise that choice and not make the decision based only on pain.

I threw a bomb into the otherwise quiet evening when I let the kids know I was planning to spend the night at Fort Sugar Shack. I’d decided to check in with Bindeise’s ghost.

It wasn’t a decision I’d made lightly. Trying to make contact with a ghost was an uneasy affair, yet the move felt necessary. I still didn’t have a handle on the murderer’s motive, and getting confirmation of the second body’s identity would at least be a step forward.

Oh my gods, the noise afterward was so intense. The kids were opposed, especially Billisha, but even Bihei felt she had to get involved. I was adamant though. I told them that I’d dreamt of Bindeise’s ghost, and that it felt right to follow the dream’s ‘guidance’ to find his murderer. Dreams were supposed to be an important conduit to the World Spirit, so it was an effective argument.

The kids weren’t happy about my plan, but ultimately they trusted my abilities and acquiesced. Bihei was more torn, but she wasn’t a part of the family and didn’t have any true say about what I did or where I went. That didn’t stop her from cautioning me about being out in the forest after dark though.

It took an hour to calm everyone down, and then once they were, to get my gear in order. Fortunately, the summer days were long, and there were still a couple of hours of light left—enough to hike out to Fort Sugar Shack and set up some basic defenses. I didn’t think I’d run into any problems, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t be prepared.

The moon was coy that night, covering and uncovering her face with gauzy wisps of cloud as the wind blew. The ruined buildings glowed and dimmed according to her fancy, and no matter how the crickets serenaded her, the moon’s presence remained ephemeral.

I sat inside the largest of the iron vats, spear across my knees and bow by my side. The gate was barricaded with cut branches. They would hopefully be thick enough to make it look impassable.

I waited, watched, and listened. My vigil was interrupted by noises from outside the walls: the howl of wolves in the distance, an owl hooting his greetings and then moving on, and the rustle of leaves on branches.

I sent qi and mana to my eyes when I noticed something nosing its way through the branches blocking the gate. I gently put my spear down and picked up my bow. There was a poisoned arrow already nocked. I eased the tension in my shoulders and took a slow breath.

The leaves continued their rustling, and the branches slowly parted. The moonlight dimmed just as the creature was about to become visible. I drew the bow, but then eased the string back to resting. With the light’s return, I’d seen Mumu poke her head through shrubbery. She slipped between the branches and crouched in front of the impromptu barricade. She had her spear in her hands and, of all things, a shovel on her back.

“Little Pot,” she said, whispering. “Are you here? Your children found me and explained about your dream. They asked me to look after you.”

“I almost shot you,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“No, that would’ve been unlikely. I’ve seen your arrows, Little Pot.”

“My arrows are poisoned.”

Mumu grinned, her teeth pearly white. “That does not make them any faster.”

This kid. No wonder Inneioleia was so focused on teaching her humility.

“What’s the shovel for?” I asked.

“To find Bindeise’s treasure, of course.” She followed my voice to my hiding spot. “The taak aren’t doing us any good buried in the ground or stuffed into a tree, and I came to offer my help digging.”

“I’m here to find clues about his murder,” I said. “Not to look for treasure.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take it all?”

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “An angry ghost,” I said, “won’t be interested in sharing his wealth.”

“Then we will appease Bindeise’s ghost first,” Mumu said. “Let me help. A small share is all I ask. I’ll take four parts to your six.”

“I don’t need help—”

“Two eases the burden of one,” Mumu said. “Everyone knows that.”

“I said I don’t need help—”

Mumu’s voice became serious as she said, “Little Pot, it’s dangerous to hunt alone, especially at night. You expect to meet Bindeise in your dreams? That means you must close your eyes. Let me watch over your sleep. All I ask is a small share of the bounty. How about three to your seven.”

Well, it would be more comfortable knowing that someone was keeping watch. And there were a lot of taak in Bindeise’s chest, assuming they weren’t an illusion. “All right, but the share is your two to my eight.”

Mumu’s eyes sparkled. “Agreed, but the share goes back to three and seven if we have to fight.”

“That’s fair,” I said, and the deal was struck.

In the distance, the wolves howled again, their eerie melody sounding closer than before.

I dreamt of a wide, grassy plain. The day was hazy, with a smear of tobacco-tan across an otherwise blue sky. In the distance, mountains rose on either side. Their bare stone, their solidity, was a counterpoint to the swirling wind playing in the grass and running through my hair and my clothes.

A feeling of dread arose inside me. I turned around to find a stag made of flesh and smoke gazing at me. His form wavered and drifted, and his eyes glowed with an otherworldly light.

I licked my dry lips. My throat felt parched, like all the water had been sucked out of me. I couldn’t run, couldn’t even move. I was a small, frightened animal in the enormity of the presence before me. He walked in my direction, his hooves barely touching the golden tops of the swaying grass. His eyes grew bigger and bigger as he approached, soon vast enough to swallow me whole.

I hadn’t expected to be in this place. Not again.

The last time I had been here, it was just before middle school. Over that summer, I’d practically lived in the woods with mi abuelo, and the luck had been with us. With me. I’d bagged four deer during the break, and our freezer had been overflowing with meat. We had to ask our neighbors to keep some for us.

Back then, I’d had a similar dream, except then I’d been gored by the apparition’s antlers. It had felt like I’d died, the world spinning around me, and I awoke shocked and screaming, blood dripping from my mouth from where I’d bitten my lips. Only mi abuela’s ministrations had been able to calm me, and even then, only barely.

She had shushed and babied me, for the first and only time, and told me I’d been given a blessing by the Deer God, that I was marked as his own. Mi abuelo, when he heard, had poured shots of tequila for everyone in the household—even me.

While my face burned red from the liquor, he had told me about his own visit from the Gray Wolf God. For the first time and only time, however, I didn’t find comfort in his teachings.

Two weeks after being chosen by the Deer God, the summer ended, and middle school started. That was when I decided I was old enough to know that my father was right about my grandmother’s practices. I still went hunting with my grandfather—nothing would take that away from me—but a wedge was driven through me, splitting me in two. The cool, rational side ignored the wild, spiritual one.

That was why it had taken me so long to learn how to become one with the land, and in the process of finding that, I’d realized my mistake in neglecting mi abuela’s teachings. By then it was too late, though. Mi abuelos were dead.

I never expected to be back here again, dreaming of the Deer God. I was afraid, but also understood it as an opportunity to recover a bit of my heritage that I should never have let go.

I was without mi abuelos. There was no one left to teach me the proper observances, but I’d found some measure of wisdom in my previous life and had new tools I could bring to bear. Click.

Error

The vessel is not connected to the World Spirit.

There was a feeling of overwhelming disregard from the Deer God, of utter confidence in his being, and a hint—the barest thread—of amused interest.

He was heavier than the world, but moved as lightly as a feather. With an immense inevitably, the Deer God bent down and gored me—a point of his antlers spearing me through the heart. It felt like dying, the world collapsing around me. The pain was excruciating: like my initiation with the Hunter’s Lodge, only ten times worse.

I screamed and—

—woke up soaked in sweat, reaching for my knives. Mumu had to pin me down to keep me from thrashing.

“Easy, boy, easy. It was a dream, that’s all. A dream. Tenna’s Gift protects us from ghosts. You needn’t fear them.”

I couldn’t get enough air and fought to keep from hyperventilating. I shook myself free from Mumu’s grip and got away from the vat I’d been sleeping in. I needed to move, to pace, to feel the ground under my feet, and the wind—the real wind—blowing across my body.

“What happened?” Mumu asked. “Did you dream of Bindeise? Was he angry about us looking for his treasure?”

I shook my head, not able to collect the right Diaksh words together. It wasn’t until my heart started to finally slow that I was able to croak out, “No, wasn’t him. It was… it was just a dream.”

I couldn’t tell her about my first family and my broken history with them… and certainly not about the Deer God.

Mumu gazed at me with sadness. She approached, careful not to spook me, and knelt to put her arms around me in a hug. “The past cannot break us,” she whispered into my ear. “No matter what we think or feel, what matters is now.”

I didn’t know what Mumu thought my situation to be, but the reality was like nothing she could’ve imagined. Being in this world was both a painful gift and a difficult opportunity. I’d done what I could to make the best of it, but there were moments when it was just awful.

A part of me wanted to resist her pity. Another found comfort in her warmth, in her strong arms, and in the scent of her sweat. They were reminders of her humanity—of my own humanity reflected in hers—so very different from the impenetrable reality of the Deer God.

The encounter scared me down to my bones—gifts and opportunities were sometimes like that—but Mumu had been right, after all. Two eases the burden of one.

12

An Uncomfortable Talent

“Do you have bad dreams often?” Mumu asked.

In my mind’s eye, a notification blinked, but I ignored it for the moment and just breathed. I still felt harrowed from dreaming of the Deer God, but at least my heart was my own again. That was to say, I’d calmed down—mostly—but the experience had kicked up some of the old baggage from my previous life.

“Not often,” I said. “Not anymore. I used to, though, for a long time.”

To Mumu’s credit, she didn’t make fun of an eight-year-old saying they had done anything for a long time. Instead, she nodded and said, “The world is a whetstone, and our tears ease the passage of our blades against its surface. There’s so much pain, but we turn toward the future so that we are sharpened and not dulled.”

“That’s wise for someone so young,” I said.

Mumu snorted. “And look at who is saying these words, our very own Eight. The way you hold yourself, the way you speak—sometimes I think you are a forest spirit pretending to be a human child.” She looked up at the night sky to admire the moon that’d come out from behind the clouds. “The words aren’t my own, but our lodge master’s. I’m merely borrowing his wisdom.”

“What’s the story between you and him?” I asked.

She smiled, wry and affectionate. “He holds me as a daughter of his heart, which let me tell you is a perilous thing. He is a man of high expectations.”

It was my turn to snort. “I’ve noticed. I suppose that explains the wager between you—he doesn’t want you chewing rocks. That’s the expression, right?”

Mumu nodded. “Yes. He doesn’t want me to grow overconfident. But our wager is also good for the lodge—it serves as a way to bring us all together.”

“Don’t tell me you actually like being called Little Mumu?”

“No, but I understand why our lodge master does what he does.” She sighed. “The whetstone is never comfortable, but knowing its purpose makes it tolerable.” Her teeth gleamed when she grinned. “And when the time comes for me to become lodge master, our brothers and sisters will have seen me earn it.”

“Mumu is ambitious,” I said.

“I was born with talent. It’s only right that I make the most of it.”

“There’s so much I still don’t know. I’m grateful to you for answering my constant questions.” I bowed to her, hands over my heart. “And for your help earlier too.”

My sudden earnestness must’ve caught Mumu by surprise. She scratched her cheek and looked away. “Mmm… as long as you keep learning, you’ll find your path.”

“Our Little Mumu, so wise.”

Mumu sputtered before saying, “What did you call me?”

“The ten days are not over,” I said. “Once they’re done, I’ll call you Mumu, but until then—”

She grabbed me in a headlock. I tried to slip free, but her arms were steel.

“Now, what were you saying?” she said, growling.

“I—uh—changed my mind and decided the lodge master is being needlessly cruel. I’ll call you Mumu.”

She smiled. “Such a clever child, our Eight.”

I kept watch during Mumu’s turn to sleep. Our conversation had been a welcome distraction, a respite to settle my emotions, but it was time to check the notification.

The soul mark Way of the Hunter has changed to Way of the Hunter.

Huh? Aren’t those the exact same thing? A look at the tooltip revealed the difference however:

Way of the Hunter

A soul mark fundamentally changes the silverlight and soul of the recipient, thereby modifying the application of the World Spirit’s systems. Henceforth, when opportunities arise to evolve your path, the options presented will hew toward the Way of the Hunter.

The hunter strengthens the herd; he brings balance to the land.

The Deer God had somehow modified the soul mark—that last line was new. What did he intend? How would the Soul Mark change me? I didn’t know the answer to either question.

If only I’d listened to my grandmother after encountering the god the first time. If only I had let her teach me. I had even ignored my grandfather when he’d tried to broach the subject—a disrespect that he’d never deserved. At the time, though, I’d refused to have anything to do with the animal gods, the spirits of the land, or any kind of ‘mumbo jumbo.’ All I wanted was to hunt, read, and avoid getting beaten up at school.

My thoughts circled and circled. All I knew was that healthy predation was good for the land. It kept animal populations in check and allowed plants and animals to flourish. In my previous world, when gray wolves had been reintroduced to Yellowstone National Park, for example, the area’s biodiversity had grown in just a few years.

I remembered the hours spent in my previous life looking at reels of elk browsing in winter on young willow, aspen, and cottonwood trees. The work was for a one-hour special we had produced for the Smithsonian on the relationship between wolves and elk in the national park.

The trees were critical to the forest’s beavers and helped them to survive the winter. So when the reintroduced wolves preyed on the elk, the beaver population had rebounded as a result. That meant more dams and a cascading benefit to fish and birds. There was also the carrion left by wolf kills—they were a buffet for scavengers and insects. The whole ecosystem became healthier.

It wasn’t all bad for the elk either. Sure, their mortality rate went up, but the elk became smarter—avoiding the wolves by moving in smaller herds and sticking to the heavy timber areas.

The hunter strengthened the herd and brought balance to the land. Okay, sure, I understood that. But what did it mean for the System?

I wasn’t able to sleep, so I sat with my thoughts for the rest of the night. Mumu woke up an hour before dawn and kept me company until the sun rose over the treetops. We brewed a pot of mint tisane in Bindeise’s kettle and listened to the music of the forest waking.

She was disappointed that there’d been no sign of the ghost in my dreams, so when the light grew stronger, we searched the area for clues, as well as his treasure. We thumped the remaining walls, moved equipment aside, and even dug a couple of exploratory holes. All we found were burnt wood and dirt. No clues, and definitely no treasure.

“Maybe Bindeise was on his way to retrieve his treasure before fleeing whatever had happened at his home.” I looked out past the ruined gate as I spoke. “If so, then it might be near where he died.”

“An interesting idea,” Mumu said. “If it were me, I wouldn’t leave my treasure behind.”

“You have treasure?” I asked, my eyebrows rising.

“I am a treasure, if you listen to certain sweet-talkers,” Mumu said with a grin.

“Should I try to steal you away, then?” I asked, grinning back.

“Alas, it’s too early for our Eight. Or, more truthfully, too late.” In the dawn light, Mumu blushed. “My heart has already been stolen.”

“I should offer my congratulations to Haol and Dena. When will the marriage ceremony take place? There are hunters betting on it.”

“Oh.” The blushing maiden became curious. “That’s interesting. How much?”

“Just a couple of taak. They’re betting on whether you’d marry before or after the fall season.”

Mumu looked away, disappointed. “Tsk.”

“Wait, are you seriously considering changing your marriage date to take advantage of the bet?”

“Of course not,” Mumu said. “Not for such a small amount. It wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

I had a suspicion and peeked at her talents again.

Mulallamu the Hunter (Human)

Talents: Scout-Born, Tracker, Wild Sense

Nascent Talent: Money Lover

And there it was. Money Lover.

“Why are you giggling?” Mumu asked, confused by my snickers.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “Let’s… uh… let’s check around the area where Bindeise died.”

“Yes, Bindeise’s ghost must be appeased.”

I was putting up a good front, but my internal equilibrium was still off-kilter, and everything felt slightly askew. The sensation grew even stronger when we left the relative safety of Fort Sugar Shack.

I slipped into the land, and my senses went from skewed to overwhelmed. I was abruptly buried under the verdant forest, awash with life. It felt like insects crawled across my skin, color smeared into sound, and scent melded with taste and touch. The sensations paralyzed me.

I thought I’d been able to become one with the land before. That turned out to be just a pale imitation. To truly be at one was an experience of a very different kind.

Mumu touched me lightly on the elbow. Electricity sparked down the length of my arm. Her voice sounded watery, and I felt a closeness—the warmth of her attention on me. “Good, good. Your Stealth skill is improving. But we can’t spend too much time practicing our woodcraft. The militia trains today, and I promised to be there to help.”

Her voice gave me a place to focus, and the world spun a little less as a result—enough for me to find myself within the land. The boundaries were murky, but it was enough. I shuffled my feet after her.

Trees loomed and rippled as small creatures appeared to pass through them. A bush waved in greeting. A squirrel chirped angrily, warning me against stealing its hidden acorns. While it scolded me, another squirrel—this one with gray fur and red eyes—moved behind its back to sneak a few away.

I was at a loss. Becoming one with the land was one of my most useful skills—the non-System kind. It was something I’d spent a lifetime mastering, and now it was spiraling out of control. I felt like I was stumbling drunkenly through the forest.

Somehow, I managed to keep up with Mumu. I tried to limit the sensory overload from the land, but I was either in or out; there was no middle ground. Without the land, I was exposed and vulnerable to predators. With the land, I was like a tree ready to fall, rocking unsteadily in the wind.

Just what the hell had the Deer God done? I didn’t dare curse him, but I came close.

I chose safety over comfort and stuck with the land. That was how I found Bindeise’s ghost when I finally stumbled into the small clearing with his skeletal remains. He was gray-bodied, and I saw red splatters where he’d been stabbed. His eyes were red too—except where they’d been angry before, now he stared fearfully at me.

Holy hells, I’m seeing a ghost while awake.

“What’s wrong, Little Pot? Is there a sign on the tree there? A marker pointing to the treasure?”

I licked my lips. They felt dry and swollen. “I—I’m seeing Bindeise’s ghost now.”

Mumu’s eyes got big, and she quickly scanned the area for danger. “Here? Now?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you dreamt of him,” Mumu said. “That it was a sign.”

“I did.”

“But now you see his ghost. Is this a thing that you can do?”

I shook my head, which caused the world to swirl. “It’s never happened before. Not while awake anyway. Mi… my grandmother could see ghosts, though, and other spirits. She claimed to, anyway.”

“It’s a family talent, then. But it’s strange—I looked at the map of your spirit when you joined my team, and there was no sign of such a thing on it.”

I checked my Status and realized there were more blinking notifications. They hadn’t been there earlier and must’ve triggered after I became at one with the land.

Congratulations. You have reached a Spirit milestone.

Don’t freak out. Better read me first.

The free point I had assigned after reaching Level 3 must’ve pushed my Spirit up to 15—my first time experiencing an increase without actually leveling. No doubt it was connected to whatever the Deer God had done to me.

“One of my attributes reached a milestone,” I said aloud. “I think I got another talent as a result.”

“Oh, oh, that’s good. That’s amazing! You have five talents now—our Eight is a genius!” Mumu picked me up and spun me around, laughing.

The disorientation turned my stomach over. “Down. Down! Put me down! I’m going to throw up.”

Mumu set me back on my feet, her face worried. “What’s wrong? Is it the talent? Something you need to become accustomed to?”

My stomach was queasy, but at least I didn’t feel like vomiting anymore. “Just… just give me a moment. I’m going to close my eyes for a while.”

“I will watch over you,” Mumu said.

“Thank you.”

“Silly boy. I am your hunt sister, your proud hunt sister. Now, do as you need to.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I clicked the notification from System-Eight first.

Don’t freak out. Better read me first.

Hoo, but this one’s a doozy.

First things first, am I in trouble?

Not that I can tell. You’re definitely not possessed, at least, so you don’t have to worry about that.

I sighed in relief. I didn’t think it was something the Deer God would do, but without mi abuela for guidance, I wasn’t sure. Then what’s happening?

It’s your new talent. The others have been useful, but this one changes things.

Don’t tease me. What is it?

I can’t tell you. It’s the other notification’s job to do that, and I have to stay within the lines of what’s allowed.

What I can say is that at one with the land is pulling in double the sensory information compared to before. Anything you can do to help speed up your ability to process and react to that information will help. There, that’s a hint even you’ll get.

You mean Dog’s Agility?

*Ding. Ding. Ding.*

See, I knew you could do it. The spell won’t be a perfect solution—there are probably other tools out there better suited to handling a situation like this—but it’s what you have available.

I wonder if Ikfael will have some suggestions too.

I was just about to recommend that. Great minds think alike, eh? Damn. We’re out of time already. I won’t be able to

The text in the box stopped mid-answer. S-Eight? S-Eight? Are you there?

There was no response, just the feeling of somber care left in his aftermath. I’d never seen him so serious before. Hesitant, I clicked the other notification.

Congratulations. You have reached a Spirit milestone.

You have reached a Spirit milestone. Checking for new talents. *Error.* A nascent talent has already been uncovered. The base benefits of 15 Spirit are also now active: increased spiritual power, resistance to negative spiritual conditions, and sensitivity to the spirit world.

When I had assigned the free point to Spirit, I’d hoped it would increase my capacity for and sensitivity to mana, but this was the result instead. And Mumu was wrong—the talent I’d just received as a result was my seventh. The first two just didn’t show up on my Visible Status. They were there on my Hidden Status, though:

Talents

- Jack of All Trades
- Talent Scout
- Qi Sensitive
- Uncanny Tracker
- Multilingual
- Enduring
- Spirit Hunter

I took a deep breath and looked closer at the new talent.

Spirit Hunter

The world is not what it seems, only a pale shadow of something more beautiful and more terrifying. Though you’ve run from it in the past, the spirit world is always around you—a gift, a curse, and an opportunity. Provides access to ghosts, spirits, and other spirit-based entities. Note: this talent is constrained by Tenna’s Gift.

My heart already felt like a hummingbird hovering inside my chest, and somehow it now beat even faster. I knew from mi abuela how dangerous the spirit world could be. In many ways, ignorance was terrible; people were influenced by spirits all the time while being completely unaware. At the same time, ignorance was protection. It kept one from interacting with dark, unfriendly powers and being lured in by them.

In my previous life, there were some things I’d specifically avoided when I went looking into my grandmother’s legacy. For example, when Helen died, I’d never tried to contact her… never tried using my grandmother’s craft to contact any spirit or ghost. The world I was in now had protections my old world didn’t, though. That had lulled me into a false sense of security—into thinking I could go looking for ghosts. Instead, I’d found the Deer God. Or, more accurately, he’d found me.

I cracked an eyelid. Mumu watched the forest, spear in hand. Not ten feet away, Bindeise’s ghost kept a wary eye on me. The tree behind him seemed to want to brush him away with one of its branches, but the ghost wouldn’t budge. I closed my eye again when I felt the forest start to spin.

Will Dog’s Agility really help? All I could do was try.

Focusing inward, my mind fuzzed as I moved my qi through the required patterns. My thoughts blurred with the uekisheile’s concern. Not about Dog’s Agility—we’d made great progress in learning the spell. No, it was for me—for Ollie/Eight and the fear filling my meridians. They… we were doing our best to understand Ollie/Eight’s response to the strange experience.

Ever since we’d left the Red Room, we’d watched and learned—often keeping quiet until we understood more about what was happening. The cave, the forest, the Glen, Voorhei, and now the spirit world—each was an expansion on what we knew before. A new place to learn, to make relationships, and find meaning other than just consuming qi.

Life was dangerous. How would the spirit world be any different?

The consequences were what we should worry about. If a physical body is hurt, one can live or die, and if one dies, the spirit simply moves on. If the spirit body is hurt, though, the damage carries into the next life, or in the worst case, the next several lives.

Then we should learn to defend ourselves, we thought. Like we do with the bow and spear, with qi and magic. Life exists, and we exist within it. We have to face it, otherwise we’ll have to hide in a cave for the entirety of our existence. The same is true for the spirit world.

The realization that the uekisheile’s thoughts and mine were blended knocked me out of the land. Bindeise’s ghost disappeared, and the world around me steadied. I found Mumu standing over me. Apparently, I’d tipped over.

“Little Pot?”

Don’t freak out. Don’t freak out. System-Eight said not to freak out. Did he know this would happen? Why didn’t he warn me? It felt like I was being erased. Like I was disappearing. Damn it, I’m freaking out. I started to hyperventilate, the breaths coming short, fast, and uncontrolled.

“Little Pot! Steady yourself!” Mumu grabbed my shoulders, and a burst of qi blasted into me, jolting me out of my panic.

I felt the uekisheile gather the extra qi, but otherwise they kept to themselves. I knew what they were thinking though—I knew without them having to signal with their qi.

Ollie/Eight-is-slow. Sharing-is-good. We-want-to-share… more but we will not make you afraid. A tendril of their qi brought Mumu’s qi into my heart for assimilation. We will learn together.

The bundles of thought, emotion, and intention they normally used hadn’t changed, but somewhere in the middle of their communication, understanding had blossomed in my mind. I understood them more clearly than I ever had before, which shouldn’t have been surprising. For a time, I’d lost myself—my thoughts and feelings and everything else that made me who I am—and I’d fused with the uekisheile into something else, different, and other.

At that moment, I seemed to be myself again, but how long would that last? If the experience of me fusing with the uekisheile happened again—happened enough—would it change who I was?

A thread of intense panic started to rise within me, but I stuffed it down—as far down as possible—to keep it from the uekisheile. I had to act normally, no matter what. Them becoming alarmed wouldn’t help. Not that I thought they would intentionally cause me harm. The uekisheile wanted only good for me—I knew that in a way I hadn’t before—but their good didn’t necessarily mean my good. An invasion was still an invasion even if the invaders liked you and wanted to be your friend.

An hour passed with me trying to deal with what had happened. Not very successfully, but I had to put up a brave front for Mumu, who was looking at me with more and more concern.

“Your new talent is very challenging,” she said. “Sometimes it is like that. We should go to Sheedi for guidance.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to handle this. So much has already happened—this… this is just putting me over the top.”

She shook her head, as if to deny my worry. “Everything requires practice, Little Pot. Everything. You will be well. Our world speaker is clever. She will help you. Can you stand?”

She helped me upright. I touched the land, and immediately felt myself go sideways. More urgently, Bindeise’s ghost was inches from my face, peering at me with fascination, his earlier fear gone. Startled, I pushed him away, and he flew back—through the upset tree and into the foliage behind it.

Mumu dropped into a fighting stance, instantly wary. “Where?”

“The ghost—Bindeise’s ghost was too close. I just reacted to it. Sorry.”

Mumu’s wariness lingered. She looked around, but there was nothing for her to see. “You have gained an uncomfortable talent, Little Pot. Sometimes vision-related ones are like that—they take getting used to—but a talent for seeing spirits… I’ve never heard of anything like it, at least not in Voorhei. We’d best head back and talk to Sheedi as soon as possible.”

13

Ghosts and Consequences

The fields outside of Voorhei’s gate were full of people, villagers practicing their Militia Arts. To the right, they took turns shooting arrows at a string of archery targets. To the left, they practiced their formations while wielding long spears. I noted how every second spear had lugs below the spearhead to keep an injured opponent from working its way down the shaft to attack the wielder.

People called out to Mumu as we walked past. A few waved to me, the faces familiar from my initiation into the Hunter’s Lodge. I was… not quite in the mood to deal with people, though, and the noise and activity grated. All I wanted was to run back into the woods to be alone. Except, I wouldn’t be alone, would I? Wherever I went, the uekisheile would also be.

At least I was able to walk on my own again—as long as I wasn’t at one with the land, that is.

Mumu tapped me on the shoulder to get my attention. She’d spotted Inneioleia coordinating the militia training along with the village’s leadership—Koda, Dwilla, and Sheedi.

“I’ll make the arrangements to meet with the world speaker,” she said. “Will you be all right here until I get back?”

I spotted Billisha and Aluali working with some toddlers. I pointed and said, “I’ll be over there. Come get me when she’s ready.”

Mumu nodded and jogged toward the clustered leaders, while I made my way to the younger children. The little ones were reciting together in singsong: “I am a true human child, not a false one. I can speak, and my blood is red.”

Each toddler had a small knife. They were instructed to make sure it was clean, then were shown the way to draw a thin line of blood across the front of the forearm. Some of the little ones cried, while others retreated into Meliune’s Blessing.

My kids coaxed them out of the blessing and stressed that it was very, very important that they be able to talk when facing a worried adult. In a gentle voice, Billisha said, “You don’t want to be mistaken for a false one, do you?”

The sight of the small children scarring themselves gave me chills. Yet, this was the reality within which I now lived. Every adult I’d met had these scars. Every single one had had to prove themselves human at some point.

That didn’t stop them—the adults—from joking as they practiced. Militia training was one of the few times the whole village came together, so it was an opportunity to socialize. Underneath the amiability and chatter, though, was a serious purpose. These practices were the foundation for how they would defend the village during an attack. It was how they defended their humanity.

The experience at Fort Sugar Shack had shaken me—because of what happened with both the Deer God and the uekisheile. There was a chance I was a ticking time bomb—that I was wrong about believing my situation wasn’t this world’s equivalent of Invasion of the Body Snatchers—or maybe our difficulties were just growing pains, and I’d been right about choosing peace with the uekisheile. I hoped that was the case. I very much did.

But if I was somehow turning into a monster, then what was I thinking by raising two kids out in the wilderness? Had I gone mad in the month I was on my own? The idea worried me enough that I checked my Status, but no mental illnesses showed. Only:

Conditions

Occupied (Truce*)

The kids spotted me and waved. I smiled, waved back, and gestured for them to keep working. Pretending felt awful, but I didn’t want them to worry about me.

It turned out that Mumu had spilled the beans about my new talent to the whole village leadership team. They all traipsed over to congratulate me on achieving my fifth talent, their eyes shining like dogs eyeing a tasty steak.

Only Inneioleia seemed apprehensive. No doubt he worried about my ego ballooning. I could see the gears turning in his head—the intense training he was already planning, all in an effort to keep me humble and grounded. I saw an endless future of sore muscles ahead.

The village’s leadership had to stay behind to continue coordinating the training, all except for Sheedi. She hummed an unfamiliar tune as she led Mumu and me toward the village gate. Her steps were light and breezy.

We walked through the empty village. I thought it’d be quiet and still, but the livestock peeked out from their enclosures and lowed or brayed as we moved past. It was like walking through a fairytale village inhabited by animals instead of people.

If only I had a fairy godmother, yet the closest I’d come was a magical otter, who—as I thought about it—might have some ideas for how to deal with the uekisheile, as well as my new spirit-seeing talent.

I really wasn’t thinking straight. Focus, Ollie. Take things a step at a time. Deal with the obligations here, and then get to the Glen as fast as possible. Minimize the variables and get help from a trusted source. And... and... maybe leave the kids behind. Just for now. Just in case.

I really didn’t like that idea, and my heart rebelled, but I steeled myself to make the right decision.

The kids wouldn’t like it either, but I’d just have to convince them—maybe give them a task in the village they could do while I… while I… worked on moving the bodies of Woldec and his crew out of the cave. That excuse sounded reasonable.

Before I knew it, we were climbing the pyramid steps. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Doggo Destruction Team—Jeseidatchei and Musastacha the Dog Rider—patrolling the area. Sheedi waved to them and led us inside.

We walked down the spiral staircase, past the village’s life stone, and into the room with the spirt examination platform. For the second time in the span of a few days, I had my Status read.

Looking at a new map of my spirit, Sheedi pointed to a notch in the area around my heart. “Here is the Way of the Hunter.” A line extended from it up through my neck and into my head. “See how it connects to this area above the brow? That is the new talent. Its shape is unfamiliar—like lightning branching upward—but the color is of the Spirit. You said it allows you to see ghosts?”

“Yes, when I become one with the land.”

“Do it now,” she said. “I would like to observe it in action.”

The world tilted as I joined with the land. My handle on Dog’s Agility wasn’t very good, not without the uekisheile, so I staggered when the initial blast of sensations hit me. Thankfully, Mumu caught my elbow before I fell.

“How is it?” Sheedi asked. “What do you see?”

There were three ghosts in the room with us: a child of about five, a foggy blob that was mostly human shaped, and a giant dog. The dog looked a lot like Jeseidatchei, but had darker fur and a narrower muzzle.

The ghosts watched us, and I felt their interest pressing against the insides of my eyes. The child was lonely, and the dog curious. They kept their distance. The blob was hungry, though, and tendrils extended from its body to reach for me. Something about me seeing the ghost let the ghost see me better in return.

The tendrils were repelled, though. They streamed around an invisible shield, searching for an entry, but the shield covered the whole of me. Was it a function of Tenna’s Gift? One of my blessings? Or something older, something gained from mi abuela? Whatever its source, the shield kept the tendrils from touching me.

Mumu and Sheedi stepped back when I drew my hunting knife. I’d been able to push Bindeise’s ghost away; with the proper applications of will and intent, I felt I should be able to affect this one as well.

“Little Pot?” Mumu asked.

“There’s a ghost.” I sliced, and the dismembered tendrils dissipated like vapor. Good, it worked.

I must’ve looked ridiculous waving my knife in the air, but I wasn’t about to put up with a hungry ghost trying to leech my life from me. The ghost sucked its… his tendrils back into his body, and he tried to flee the room.

“In the name of the Deer God, I command you to stop.”

The words were in English, which confused Mumu and Sheedi, but I couldn’t help it. It was easier to convey my intent and will through English than Diaksh.

The hungry ghost froze. His form shuddered as he struggled to escape, but I refused to let him go. My will held strong. I knew my grandmother would have scolded me for letting a hungry ghost escape.

“Lay down your spite and your anger,” I said. “They will not serve you. Lay down your spite and your hunger. They will only weigh you down. A third time I say unto you, lay down your spite and your despair. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”

“Little Pot, are you all right?” Mumu asked.

I didn’t respond; I was too focused on remembering old lessons from a lifetime ago. I focused on gathering the will in my belly and connecting it to my words—pushing it out into the world. I didn’t have any of the spiritual tools and medicines of mi abuela, but for a weak-ass ghost like this, my will was enough.

Doors open in two directions, though. The shield around me faded as I spoke, eventually leaving only a thin layer, like the film of a bubble.

The ghost fought against my will. His tendrils lashed out, and I stumbled avoiding them, falling to the ground. Somehow, in that moment, I felt Helen and mi abuelos gazing at me. I felt their love and support, and re-focused my will, not bothering to stand.

The ghost screamed—then his body pulled upward, like taffy being drawn. I couldn’t hear him, though. His scream was a painful scraping across my eyes, and it didn’t stop until the ghost was completely gone—banished to his rest.

I fell back, spent, and my breath came in short gasps as if I’d been sprinting. Mumu knelt beside me, her brow furrowed.

“Little Pot, you are very much concerning me.”

“I’m concerned about myself,” I said—then I remembered to speak in Diaksh. “I’m all right. There was a ghost that attacked me, but I put it to rest—”

Before I could continue, the child’s ghost stepped closer. His hands were open, but instead of hunger, there was longing in his eyes. He gestured to the place where the hungry ghost had been banished, and then pointed to himself.

“You want to rest too?” I asked. “To rejoin the circle of life?”

The ghost didn’t understand my words, even when I spoke them in Diaksh. The boundary between life and death, Tenna’s Gift, wasn’t something I could cross completely. So, I pointed to the ghost and then to the sky. The meaning of my gesture was simple enough that it got through. The ghost nodded.

“Eight, you need to tell us what is going on,” Mumu said, her voice intruding into my disoriented world.

I struggled to organize my thoughts, and it took a moment just to figure out what language to use. “There’s another ghost. A boy. He’s asking me to help him rest.”

Sheedi became anxious—the feeling was like a taut drum behind my eyes. “You can hear him?”

I shook my head. “No, he used simple gestures. That’s all.”

“And the attacking ghost?” Mumu asked.

I finally noticed that her knife was out of its sheath. When had she drawn it? I hadn’t been able to tell among the colors, sounds, smells, and tastes swirling around me.

“That ghost is gone,” I said. “I exorcized him. Ah, how to explain that word. I… forced him to go where he belonged.”

“And now this child will also be exorcized?” Sheedi asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar English word.

“I won’t need to force him, I don’t think. He’s just gotten lost and needs to be shown the way.”

Sheedi gestured for me to stop. “Wait. Before you do so, what does he look like?”

I shared that the boy was about my age, with short dark hair and hopeful eyes. A small birthmark under his left eye accentuated his delicate features.

“His description does not match anyone I know.” Sheedi looked to Mumu.

“Not me either. He’s not from my generation,” Mumu replied. “What happens next?”

I looked over at the dog’s ghost, but they—no, she was content to sit on her haunches. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to go anywhere or do anything. Instead, she felt responsible for this place and watched over it. As long as I didn’t try to harm the life stone, I’d be safe from her.

“It’s just the boy who needs help.” I picked myself up off the floor and moved to kneel beside him.

The boy anxiously held his hands together. He started to talk, yet I couldn’t hear him. When he realized his words weren’t reaching me, he bowed his head in disappointment. The feeling of longing was back, but this time for someone. For his family.

“I don’t know your family,” I said, “but I’ll try to find them and let them know you miss them. It’s all right to let go of the longing. To let go and rest easy. To move on and find the peace you deserve. To move on and, when the time is right, rejoin the circle of life.”

All it took was a touch of my will to point the boy in the right direction, and he faded away. His sad, grateful, and weary smile lingered, but even that eventually disappeared.

I waited to see if anything else happened. The dog’s ghost lay down on her side to rest, and the shield that had thinned earlier started to recover. Thankfully, it didn’t appear that I’d damaged Tenna’s Gift as a consequence of dealing with the hungry ghost.

I assumed the god’s gift was the source of the first shield, but there’d also been a second, hidden one that I’d almost missed in the rush of events. That second shield was family-related. I was certain of it—I could taste the stone knife, the spear, and the arrows I’d once laid down to bar the doorway to my soul, back when Ikfael had taken me on a spirit journey to give me access to my mana.

I took a deep breath and let the land go. Mumu and Sheedi, their faces full of concern, snapped into view beside me.

“You’re back,” Mumu said. “Your… your eyes are clear again.”

“The ghosts are gone?” Sheedi asked.

“Yes, I’m here. And yes, the ghosts are gone. Well, there’s one left—a dog—but she’s guarding this place.”

Sheedi’s eyebrows rose, and she looked around the room. “Should I be concerned?”

“I don’t think so. She didn’t seem to be interested in anything other than protecting the life stone.”

“Oh. That’s good, then.” The edges of Sheedi’s mouth turned up in pleasure. “I will have to tell the others we have a spirit protecting our village core.”

“Is a ghost the same thing as a spirit?” Mumu asked.

“Three is the direction of five,” Sheedi said. “One is a weaker form of the other. Perhaps this ghost will become a spirit in time. Such things have been known to happen.”

Mumu looked doubtful, but didn’t protest. If anything, there was worry in her voice. “And our Eight’s talent? What did you learn?”

Sheedi shook her head. “None of the paths, skills, and talents I know let one talk to ghosts in this way.”

“Well, I’m not exactly talking to them,” I said. “The words are just a focus for my will, a way to give it shape and direction.”

“So that was a magical language you spoke?” Sheedi asked. “A magical art?”

“Yes and no. That path was my grandmother’s, and she trained me in it. Not a lot, but enough for me to get the basics—so that I wouldn’t accidentally hurt myself or others. The language is hard to explain. Let’s just say that it’s one my family spoke.”

“Then you must have a skill for it,” Sheedi said, “for both the language and art, but I didn’t see either on your spirit map.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that—”

English (Hidden) 13 is now also English (Visible) 5.

Spirit Arts has increased from 0 to 3.

Spirit Arts has increased from 3 to 5.

The English skill had always been there, just hidden from view. The Spirit Arts skill, though, was new. Its appearance felt like a wall tumbling down—of being in the dark and suddenly breaking through to the light outside. My breath caught as the feeling spread through me.

The others must’ve recognized the look on my face, because Mumu shook her head in disbelief.

“A breakthrough. Our Eight really is a genius for certain.”

“I’m almost tempted to map his spirit again,” Sheedi said.

Mumu protested: “No, that’s enough. He needs to rest.”

She helped me stand and led me to the dining room, whereupon she poured hot tea down my throat and stuffed me full of porridge.

Sheedi let her, and even helped pour the tea. “Our Eight, let me remind you. We will soon visit Ikfael to offer gifts in gratitude for the clean water she provides. Put in a good word for us, will you? We will make sure to make it worth your while.”

14

Making Deals, Making Donuts

Mumu escorted me to Bihei’s place. The rest of the village was still training their Militia Arts, so the paths between longhouses were just as empty as they’d been before. We didn’t talk much. I could tell she had questions, but she was sensitive enough to know I wasn’t in the mood for chitchat.

She stuck around after we arrived, then watched while I checked over my backpack to make sure everything was in order for the trip back to the Glen. Mostly that meant looking over the supplies needed to make Ikfael’s donuts. While I was busy with the Hunter’s Lodge, I’d had the kids make the purchases and track down a villager willing to part with some maple sugar. The price was painful—one eltaak for a half pound.

The source—a person named Sima Simasson—was a wealthy villager with a well-stocked kitchen. The kids had even been able to buy barley flour from him. They’d heard me talking to the village’s miller about it, and knew I was interested.

They’d also found and purchased acorn flour, grits, and potatoes, but the barley flour was our best hope for a good donut. I should be able to improvise a recipe using it.

There wasn’t anything else to do after that but wait to say goodbye to the kids and Bihei. I felt bad about leaving them behind, though I knew it’d be for their own good. There was just too much that was confusing and distressing to be able to properly focus on protecting them.

Ollie/Eight…

I caught a whiff of the uekisheile’s qi, but the scent vanished before I could read the thought. The lichen had bundled themselves up in a ball ever since the surprise joining of our identities.

I felt my blood pressure rise, so I checked over the backpack again. No harm in making sure everything was stowed safely. When that was done, I straightened up around the longhouse, but the kids had done a good job earlier and there wasn’t much to do. So, I unpacked and re-packed my gear, as well as all the donut ingredients—the flours, salt, yeast, eggs, milk, sugar, deer fat, peanuts… everything was in order.

Mumu watched me work with worry in her eyes. “Little Pot—”

“I’m fine—just have a lot on my mind is all, and keeping busy settles me. I’ve always been that way.”

My answer didn’t seem to put her at ease. She’d held off from asking questions earlier, but now it looked like she was working up to it

I interrupted before she could. “Thank you for agreeing to ask around about the ghost-boy with a birthmark under his eye. That’ll be a great help.”

“Of course,” Mumu said. “I am your hunt sister. And besides, the boy was a person of this village. I will do what I can for him. I’m thinking that Inleio—ah, that’s the nickname of our lodge master—may know of the boy.”

“Because Inleio is old?” I asked.

“Yes, that. But I am also thinking that the boy’s ghost was found inside the pyramid. For him to have died there sounds like a special circumstance. There may be a story in the lodge’s past about it.”

“We don’t know for sure the boy died there,” I said. “Ghosts can wander. Although, it’s also possible for them to get stuck in a place, especially if there was trauma involved. The answer depends on how much they remember of themselves and how much willpower they have.”

“Your family taught you about ghosts and spirits, then?” Mumu asked.

I grimaced. “Yes and no. It’s complicated.”

“And you don’t want to talk about it?”

“I’m not sure what I can say.”

Not only did I not want to sound crazy, but the details of mi abuela’s craft weren’t to be shared. Sure, people had come to her for guidance and spells, but the process had always been kept hidden. There were words, gestures, and objects she’d used in front of clients, but they’d been a show. The real magic had happened behind closed doors and was considered a ‘secret of the house.’ And my grandmother had made sure the secrets stayed secret.

A frightening woman, mi abuela. I had no doubt she loved her family and that she would have moved heaven and earth to protect them. But a love that strong, I often wondered what it made her capable of. To what lengths it would inspire her.

“There were secrets in my born-family,” I said finally. “I can’t explain them.”

Mumu shook her head, sad. “You were taken from them too young.”

Billisha and Aluali thought something similar—apparently, they believed I was the son of a family that had met a tragic end. Alas, the truth was much more outlandish than they realized.

Outside, the paths began to fill with the chatter of villagers returning home after training. There was laughter and yelling, promises to meet up later, and the sound of people organizing to go back into the fields to work.

“Zasha! Zasha! We’re back!” Aluali ran into the longhouse with Billisha close on his heels.

They were dirty and sweaty, but hale and in good spirits. Village life suited them, which made what came next easier.

“I saw you working hard. Good job.” I patted each on the head, and that made them giggle. Even though I was tall for my age, I still had to reach up to do it.

“Zasha, you don’t need to try so hard to be an adult,” Billisha said, smiling.

“Zasha, I’ll prepare lunch so that we can eat with Bihei,” Aluali said, as he checked on the ever-present pot of corn porridge. “Would Mulallamu like to join us?”

“Actually,” I said, “I wanted to talk about our plans about going back to the Glen. I’m thinking that it would be helpful if the two of you stayed here.”

Aluali stopped and turned toward me. Billisha too. Both their faces were suddenly somber.

“Did we do something wrong?”

“Did something happen?”

“No, no,” I said. “Nothing like that. It’s just that I promised Ghitha Woldecsbrother I would bring his family’s bodies out of the cave, and that means I’ll be away from the Glen a lot. It wouldn’t be safe for you.”

“But there is Ikfael. Wouldn’t she protect us?” Billisha asked.

Aluali offered Billisha his hand, and she took it. The two stood side by side.

“Yes, I think so, if she is able to, but you’ve seen how that’s not always possible. The bishkawi took over the Glen, and there were other invaders before that.”

“Then we would stay with Zasha and help move the bodies,” Billisha said.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” I said. “We don’t know what else is down in the caves.”

“We are a weight on Zasha’s back,” Aluali said, his voice dropping to a murmur. “We are not strong enough to support him.”

“That’s not true!” My words came out more forcefully than I’d intended, and I took a breath to reset myself. “You’ve been nothing but a delight ever since we met, and I’ve never considered you—either of you—a weight on my back. If anything, the two of you have lifted me up. That’s why I need you to be safe.”

“Where is safe?” Billisha asked, her voice pleading. “Nowhere except with Zasha.”

“That’s not true,” I said.

“It is,” Billisha said.

“It may feel that way, but it’s not. Right now, I may be the least safe thing around.”

“Is the cave so dangerous?” Billisha asked. “If so, then tell Ghitha you won’t go. You have already served his family by putting them to rest. He can ask no more of you.”

“I know it’s hard to understand, but I have obligations to the dead, and I keep my obligations.” Feeling frustrated, I turned around to pace and found Bihei at the door.

The widow stood stock still, listening to the argument. Mumu was also nearby. She’d partially disappeared using her scout techniques, likely to keep from intruding in another family’s drama.

“It would help me if you stayed with Bihei,” I said to the kids. “Just for a while. Until I can straighten out a complicated situation one way or another.” I put my hands on my hips, willing the kids to listen.

“Do you promise to come back for us?” Billisha asked.

“Life is uncertain,” I said. “Who knows what might happen—”

“Do you promise?” Billisha and Aluali asked together.

“If you’re safe, then I know I can face whatever needs facing. It’s a matter of—”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes,” I said finally.

I hadn’t been planning to promise anything—I really hadn’t—but while my mind was preparing the rationale for why, my heart jumped in with its own response.

The kids watched the war between heart and mind, and they must’ve found satisfaction in it. Billisha nodded. “Good. No matter what happens, you will come back for us.”

Wordlessly, Aluali came over and hugged me. Holding him in my arms, I knew he was still too thin, even after several weeks of eating well. He was warm, though, and smelled of dirt and sweat. Billisha, not to be left out, joined the group hug.

Then a pair of adult arms wrapped around us. Bihei whispered from behind me, “I’m sorry. Please, just for a moment.”

Surrounded by need and love, all I could do was close my eyes and hug them back.

The hike to the Glen felt both long and short. I knew the way, so there was none of the direction-finding the trip to Voorhei had required. Yet, being at one with the land continued to discombobulate me, so I went without it and trusted in my ordinary Stealth skill alone.

I’d stayed in Voorhei for only a handful of days, but I’d learned a lot from Inleio, Mumu, and the other hunters. I focused on putting those lessons into practice, and that helped keep my mind off my worries—which was good, because the last thing I needed was to be distracted while hiking the wilds between Voorhei and the Glen.

As I made my way into the hills, I spotted signs of wolves traveling through the area. Some of the paw prints were as big as dinner plates. Then there were the tracks left by a giant javelina. They looked similar to the ones we’d run across while escorting Dwilla back from Fort Sugar Shack. My pace slowed, and not having the uekisheile watching my backtrail slowed me down even more. They were still balled up tight within my heart dantian, seemingly aware of my discomfort-unease-trepidation but not sure what to do about it.

Fortunately, the trip was uneventful.

My heart lifted when I felt myself pass through the boundary to Ikfael’s territory. It was like walking through the front door and recognizing a place as home. The day’s heat eased, and the bugs that’d been pestering me suddenly left me alone. Even the muscle aches from training began to ease. Ikfael’s Blessing at work, no doubt.

I rushed along the banks of the stream, scrambling across the rocky bits. I was anxious to see Ikfael, and found her drifting atop the pool, lazily paddling to keep to the center. She looked well and healthy, her fur glossy.

“I’m back.”

The otter cracked an eye open, glanced me up and down, and pointed toward the fire pit. There were logs and tinder already in place, as well as our homemade cookware. She lifted her paws out of the water and made the shape of a donut.

That made me grin, the feeling warming me through. Some things a person could just count on, and Ikfael’s persistence was as steady as a rock.

I nodded to show I’d understood. “The kids stayed behind,” I said in Diaksh. “It’s temporary, but that might turn into longer. I have a thing to talk to you about, but first, I know you’ve been waiting.”

Ikfael continued to drift in the water, her eyes closed. I saw her ears swiveling though, so I knew she was listening.

Other than the firepit and cookware, everything else was just as we’d left it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise—we had only been gone for about seven days—but the time in Voorhei felt so much longer than that. Every day had been full to the brim with people and happenings.

I’d enjoyed the training and the camaraderie, but the experience also reminded me that people were complicated. And those complications built on themselves, spiraling in weird directions, like Bindeise’s ghost and Ghitha’s request—and like the uekisheile and the Deer God.

Life in the Glen was simpler. Sure, it was a struggle to survive, but the experience was purer. Like when I was a kid: if life became too much, I headed into the woods to escape. The forest had been my sanctuary. I went either with mi abuelo to hunt or on my own with a book, finding a cozy spot under a tree and spending hours reading.

The earth and trees had kept me company, along with whatever author I brought with me—Tolkien, Vance, Heinlein, Zelazny, and many more. They were quiet company, though, and hadn’t required anything of me other than my imagination.

My childhood had been difficult, but there’d been moments of respite too. That was something I’d slowly recognized over time.

While my thoughts drifted, my hands were busy starting the fire, stowing my gear, and getting the ingredients ready. I didn’t mind making the donuts right away. It felt good to be working.

Once all the ingredients and tools were ready, I sat back and waited. The fire needed time to get good and hot. So, I rested from the hike and settled in, happy to be home.

I melted some of the deer fat and mixed it together with an egg, maple sugar, milk, and yeast that I’d proofed beforehand. Making donuts wasn’t new to me—they’d been a nice way for Helen and me to start our Sunday mornings, and Alex and Daniel had loved them. Of course they had. Who didn’t love donuts?

The barley flour had been a lucky find. It didn’t have as much gluten as wheat flour, but I figured there would be enough to get the donut’s texture right and, along with the egg, hold the dough together in the hot fat. The barley would add a nice nutty flavor too, which I planned to complement with crushed peanuts.

The proportions were uncertain, but I trusted my baking instincts. The only real risk was the amount of barley flour to use, so when the time came to mix the wet and dry ingredients together, I played it safe and added the flour a bit at a time until the dough reached the right consistency.

I poured the dough onto the flattest stone I could find, then pressed it out with my fingers until it was about a quarter-inch thick. Using my hunting knife—that had been washed clean—I cut half the dough into bars and the other half into donuts. It wasn’t as good as using a cookie cutter, but they were circular enough. Mostly. If you squinted.

The first test was a donut hole dropped into the hot fat. It started to brown right away, and I wondered if the fire was too hot, so I carefully shifted one of the logs farther away. Then, using a pair of sticks like chopsticks, I turned the donut hole over to cook the other side. Once it looked like it was done, I dipped the hole in maple sugar and crushed peanuts.

I looked up to find Ikfael sitting beside me, her fur dripping water; her eyes were starry as she gazed at the donut hole.

“I’m not sure it’s done,” I said, and cut the donut hole in two.

The middle was doughy on the inside, a sure sign that the fire had been too hot. The exterior had finished cooking well before the interior. I ate half, then handed the other to Ikfael. The flavor was decent, nutty and sweet, but it needed something to give it zing. Buttermilk, maybe?

Originally buttermilk was what was left over after churning butter, but in modern times, it was made by curdling milk with bacteria. I could replicate the effect, though, by using an acid.

Back in my previous life, I had added lemon juice to milk whenever I needed buttermilk and didn’t feel like driving to the grocery store. I hadn’t seen any citrus fruit in this world, though, nor vinegar, which would’ve been another option.

Oh well, I’d think about it. In the meantime, I let the hot fat cool a bit, and when I judged it ready, I dropped one of the bars in. The exterior turned a lovely golden brown. Ikfael looked at it with doubt—I could see the question in her eyes: where was the gracefully rounded shape? The glorious hole in the center?

“Just try it,” I said, fishing out the bar. I dusted it with maple sugar, cut it in half, and gave her one piece while I ate the other.

I sighed in pleasure. A little dense because of the barley, but the classic donut cakiness was there. Ikfael must’ve liked it too, because she’d already eaten her share and was gesturing for more.

In total, I made over thirty donuts. I ate four, Ikfael had eight, and she put the rest into her pocket.

“Will they keep?” I asked, surprised.

Ikfael nodded in reply, and once the donuts had been safely stored, she laid down by the fire and happily sang to herself.

Every cook’s joy was the satisfaction of the people eating their food, and I started to think about options for making buttermilk. I could also add mashed potatoes to the dough, and there was the acorn flour to try as well. I wondered how that would affect the flavor and consistency.

We lay by the fire long enough for it to need another log. Eventually, though, Ikfael chirped, the sound questioning.

“Hmm? Well, it was interesting,” I said. “I met a lot of good people, and some real characters too. There’s Inleio—he’s the master of the Hunter’s Lodge—and Mumu, who’s a hunter. I’m on her team. Oh, I should mention that I joined the lodge and was marked with the Way of the Hunter.”

I clammed up after that, not sure how to continue. Talking about the Way of the Hunter meant talking about the Deer God, and talking about the Deer God meant talking about the uekisheile.

Ikfael glanced my way. She must’ve seen me biting my lips, because she prodded me to keep going. She pulled water from the pool and shaped it into an image of me and the kids—Billisha and Aluali—walking through the forest. She’d gotten better in the time we were gone. I haven’t been the only one training, I thought.

Ikfael prodded me again.

Right, okay. I trusted Ikfael with my life. I could trust her with my stories too.

“We first met the village head, a man named Koda…”

15

Growing Pains

Ikfael’s response to my story was unexpected—that is to say, she didn’t have much of one. All she did was to glance sideways at me, her expression reminiscent of my daughter Alex when she was a teen: a mixture of ‘why are you so weird,’ ‘how do you get into these situations,’ and ‘I told you so.’

I’d thought she’d react more. After all, Ikfael had been wary of the uekisheile when I first brought them home. She had kept her distance for five days before eventually deciding that the lichen wasn’t planning to take over the Glen. Now, she looked at me like an idiot for being worried.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Ikfael signed. “Why else let that thing into you and allow it to stay?”

The flicker of her paws at the end was the same signal of uncertainty the hunters used. That and the way she tilted her head told me she was genuinely confused.

“I wasn’t willing at first,” I said, explaining. “They were intending to eat me.”

“So what changed?”

“The uekisheile became curious about me and my life. It was so different from theirs. Then, when I shared some of my stories, I felt them respond…” I thought back to those moments just after killing the chliapp lion. “There was a purity to their regard. I felt like we’d be okay even if the situation was worrisome.”

“And their regard changed?”

“No,” I said. Even now, I could sense the uekisheile’s protective care of me and my new family.

Ikfael clicked her tongue. “So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to lose myself,” I said. “In the other world, I had to work a long time to figure out who I was, and I’m not willing to give that up.”

Sherwood, Oregon, had done its damnedest to erase all the things that made a young Mexican boy different. And I had gone along with it, desperate as I was to fit in. All the uncomfortable bits had been sanded down until I could smoothly fit into the hole assigned to me. Except, I never truly did fit in, not for a long, long time. And even once I did, I still had people mistake me for the help—the gardener, the bus boy, and so on.

Ironically, it was my kids—Alex and Daniel—who pushed me to recover my heritage. They were curious about Mexican culture, and answering their questions triggered questions of my own about what I’d let go on my path to becoming more American.

I sighed as some of the emotional baggage that I had continued to carry shifted. It was accompanied by a sinking feeling in my belly—I had made a mistake with the uekisheile. The experience of our fusion had been disconcerting, especially in the aftermath of dreaming of the Deer God, but there hadn’t been any lasting damage—I was still myself. Even now, the uekisheile was wrapped up in a ball and making every effort to be as non-threatening as possible.

Fear was the mind-killer, and I had let it get the best of me. Panic and overreaction had never helped in my old life and it wasn’t helping in this new one either. Sure, there were legitimate concerns, but I could have handled them better.

Ikfael waved me over to the pool. “Let me show you something.”

She dove in and swam back up to the surface. Then, once she was sure I was watching, she sank herself into the water and disappeared. Over the space of a second or two, she had faded away until she was gone.

I knew she possessed the One with Water and Stone talent, but I had thought the talent’s name was meant metaphorically. Clearly, I’d been wrong.

Moments later, Ikfael faded back into view and popped out of the water with a deft twist of her body. “You saw?”

“That was amazing. How did you do it?” I asked.

“I am the spirit of this place. Of course, I can—” Ikfael’s paws stopped signing, and she shook her head. “No, wait, that’s not important. What’s important is that I became one with the water, and then I was myself again. Nothing was lost. I only gained by experiencing what water experiences. And the water benefited from my presence within it too. Do you understand? If both parties are respectful, if they take only what is offered and exchange equal value, then where is the harm?”

“But I am afraid of losing myself,” I said.

“Are you so easily lost? If so, then you should sit in the cave by the waterfall and stay there. Give me fish, and I will protect you.” She quirked her head, watching my reaction. “Yes, I thought so: this trade doesn’t sit well with you.”

“That’s no way to live,” I said.

“The river brings many different things to this pool,” Ikfael said. “The river also takes them away. Leaves, branches, insects, birds, animals—they come and they go, each changing this Glen with their presence. Often, that change is fleeting, as quick as a stick tumbling down the waterfall and floating downstream. More rarely, the change is permanent, like the flint flakes made by a boy obsessed with making tools.”

Ikfael gestured around the Glen toward where the green things were growing back after the bishkawi troop had trashed the place. “For all that happens, the Glen is the Glen. What is change? What is permanence? They are water and stone, but both are illusions. What’s real is the spirit that inhabits them, moves them, and flows between them.”

“That’s deep,” I said.

“I have been Ikfael for hundreds of years,” she signed. “Also, the cost of this lesson is another dozen donuts.”

My smile was wan, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Sure. I have enough sugar for another batch.”

She rubbed her paws in anticipation. “Good, good. I have an idea.”

“Oh? What is it?”

Ikfael shook her head. “It is not my place to say, but if you are lucky, it will be a good thing. We just have to wait for the solstice, though I will need donuts to make it happen.”

“Then I’ll look forward to it.” My smile faded. “And the Deer God, what about him?”

Ikfael sighed. “The gods are the gods. Weather their gifts and blessings as best you can. That’s all you or anyone else can do.”

“That’s it? Even though I can see ghosts now?”

She nodded. “Take what the gods offer. You will have to, whether you like it or not. Just remember that they give their gifts with ten hands. You see what is in one hand, though there are nine others, which are the consequences—the ones we don’t see.” Ikfael smiled, but it was a wry thing, strange to see on an otter’s face. “We are the instruments through which the gods forge a Path to Perfection. We can never forget that.”

I left Ikfael to her own devices, which, as near I could tell, was a beauty contest for the newly finished donuts. She lined them up in a row and carefully examined each to look for the most perfect ones. There was even a second round for the finalists before she picked five to set aside.

Shaking my head at her antics, I sat in the shade to rest and think, and found the uekisheile waiting for me. They’d partly unfurled; the impression it gave was of popped corn kernel floating in the whirlpool of my heart dantian. Or maybe a hermit crab—filaments of qi spread from their center to sway in the currents.

Tentative, anxious, discomforted—I gave their feelings my closest attention. I think I scared you.

We do not wish to be alone again.

My surprise rippled through the qi. The uekisheile’s thoughts were once more clearer than before. This time, though, it wasn’t an increase in my understanding—their facility for thought and communication had also improved. Vastly so.

We are always learning, they explained. This is our joy. One of our joys, like Ollie/Eight and Billisha and Aluali, but we do not know what to do when our joys conflict.

Underneath their thoughts was a struggle. The uekisheile was trying to come to terms with feelings they’d never experienced before: regret and… guilt? Self-recrimination?

Hold on, I thought. Just hold on. I reacted badly when we merged as one. I was unnerved, when really I should’ve just talked to you about it. The thing is… I have to know that it’s not a permanent thing, because I don’t want to lose myself. But I also don’t want to lose you either.

Ollie/Eight doesn’t fear us?

The uekisheile was confused. They could feel the fear thrumming through my meridians—not loudly, but present like electricity in a wire.

Merging our consciousnesses scared me, that’s true, but I don’t want to be a man held captive by his fear—by the things that’ve happened to him. There are stories I can tell you that will help you understand.

Will Ollie/Eight share them with us now? If we join, we will be able to see and hear and experience the stories directly.

I gulped, and the electricity in the wire buzzed. I have a question first.

Ollie/Eight is worried about permanence.

Yes, as I said, I don’t want to lose myself.

But we will gain so much, the uekisheile thought. We will become smarter and stronger and wiser. We want these things.

And so do I, but not at the expense of what makes me me and what makes you you. There’s value in each of us having our own identities—our own observations, strengths, and weaknesses—that we can then share with each other. There’s as much power in difference as there is in unity. We just have to recognize it and work together to make use of it.

We don’t understand. Will you join with us, so that we can? We promise no permanence, and we understand the importance of promises.

I licked my lips and quieted the buzzing fear running through me. Okay, I believe you. Let’s do it.

We must become one—

—with the land, we thought.

We spun our qi through the shimmering loops and whirls of Dog’s Agility, accelerating it through the required patterns. All around us, the Glen pressed in on our senses. We felt Ikfael’s gaze on our skin like water on stone. We understood that this was what it was like to use metaphors.

What an amazing concept, metaphors. To use one thing to explain another, even though they were nothing alike. Our mind was on fire, opening like a flower. Our mind was also amused. The power of metaphors was not to be underestimated, but there were more important things to think about—namely the history of Ollie/Eight and the pain suffered—

—an anger arose within us, sudden and righteous—

—easy, now. We’re older and wiser. Time healed so much. Time—

—time, so much time. There were countless cycles of light and dark, an endless pattern of waiting and watching and eating until one day there was a spark: a true light in the darkness. What followed was our first thought—the beginning of a long pattern of slow learning until someone special had come and opened the world. Ollie/Eight was another light in the darkness—

—and we felt the need, the love, and the devotion that followed. We were embarrassed by our fear of joining. We were ashamed, because the fear had been justified.

Ollie/Eight was so slow, but surely, Ollie/Eight would recognize the pattern unfolding and agree. Better to prepare for the cycle’s end and begin the rooting of the uekisheile into the meridians and dantians, in the body’s spine and bones, and in the nerves and blood vessels.

We felt dismay. A breach of trust. We are terrible.

We hadn’t known. We were a child who didn’t know right from wrong. The part of our conscience that was Ollie/Eight had tried to explain the difference once before, but clearly that hadn’t been effective.

We are fundamentally connected now.

The process was not reversible, but it could be stopped before completion. Before wholeness was achieved. The current state wasn’t stable, and the process of integrating the two bodies would need to continue for a little longer. Afterward, we would be able to keep our separate identities, while still being able to join as one—difference and unity combined.

We were still angry. We felt—

I let go of the land, and the two of us went emotionally reeling.

We are sorry. We are so sorry. The uekisheile didn’t have tear ducts, but they sobbed, their qi shuddering. We had thought—we had thought that we were smart and knew what to do.

All this time, without me knowing, the uekisheile had been fusing themselves with me. There was a part of them that was now permanently attached to my physical and qi bodies. A storm of emotions raged inside me—anger, fear, disappointment, and worry.

What else? What else did you do? I thought, demanding an answer.

We did not touch Billisha and Aluali, but in the dark, when you slept, we wandered outside Ollie/Eight’s body. We did not eat! You told us not to eat from others, so we did not. But we were curious and explored. We did no harm. We promise we did not.

I didn’t know what to think or what to feel. My chest was tight and my face red. My blood pressure was through the roof. I needed to walk, to get out of the house and cool down—except there was no house, and walking through the forest, lost in a storm of emotions, was a sure way to get killed.

I’d worried about the uekisheile, yes, but I’d also trusted them. And now I felt betrayed. So, I focused on breathing long, deep breaths—in and out—until I felt myself starting to calm.

I’d overreacted once before. I wasn’t going to do it again, but holy hells was the uekisheile in for the scolding of all scoldings.

The rest of the day was a wash. I didn’t train. I didn’t work on any projects. I barely managed to go fishing and bring dinner home. Ikfael let me stew by the fire, giving me the grace of time alone with my thoughts. She ate her share, then disappeared into the pool.

The uekisheile, meek as a lamb, did as they were told. They stabilized the connection between us—I didn’t feel a difference, but they assured me it was done.

I made it clear to them that if they ever felt the urge to hide something from me—even if they thought it was a fantastic idea and for my own good—they should tell me about it first. That feeling of ‘needing to hide’ was often a sign of something wrong. Not always, but enough so that it was a smart idea to bring it up and talk about it.

I rubbed my forehead and deliberated and deliberated some more—my fears and the feeling of being betrayed balanced against Ikfael’s advice. There was also the unavoidable and absolute understanding of the uekisheile I’d gained while we’d been merged.

In those moments, I had understood them more deeply than anyone else in my life. Maybe even more than myself. We had been one. Wholly and completely. There’d been no harm intended, just misguided well-meaning. And some self-interest, but not the kind meant to take advantage of others.

The uekisheile’s intent was to push us to grow stronger and wiser. For us to never be alone again. It was their method that was poorly done, and that was due to a lack of experience. Growing pains, as it were.

So, in the end, I decided that what was done was done. There was no turning back. Well, Ikfael might know of a way to extricate the uekisheile, but I wasn’t going to ask. Instead, I decided to live with them. Having immersed myself in their thoughts and feelings in their entirety, I saw the good in them and didn’t want to let them go.

I worried my decision was influenced by our connection, so I used every meditation trick I knew to discern the origins of my intent. It took a while to settle my mind and heart, to calm the storm of my emotions, but when I finally found a place of peace, I chose to keep the uekisheile with me. Because of belonging, the need for a place and people to which one mattered.

The uekisheile felt the need to belong, and I recognized that need in myself.

I’d been in the uekisheile’s place before: with my first family in Sherwood. And even in the early days of my second family, I had struggled to find a way to belong. I’d been just as lost as the uekisheile. Eventually, though, I’d found myself, and I now had the power to help the uekisheile to find a place and people to whom they mattered.

After all, everyone wants a place they can call home.

16

Knowledge is Power

I woke up the next morning feeling like I’d barely slept at all. The whole night had been full of dreams—of spear thrusts, Diaksh words, lessons from qigong, and even memories of the times when Helen and I had gone to couple’s counseling. The fragments left over were a jumble, though, and evaporated with the morning light.

That said, there were some notifications waiting for me.

Diaksh has increased from 4 to 5.

Signed Diaksh had increased from 4 to 5.

Stealth has increased from 5 to 8.

Woah, that’s a big jump in Stealth, but I guess it makes sense. The trees and bushes, the wildlife, and even the wind—the world was full of intent, and I could see and feel it with my… spirit eyes? That was as decent a name for the ability as any.

I wasn’t very good at sorting through all the sensations yet—at least not without Dog’s Agility—but since I could literally see where attention was being directed, it dramatically improved my ability to hide from said attention.

That blew my mind. Actually, everything that’s happened recently is blowing my mind. I need to ease up on the throttle for a while, let myself catch up to events—figure out what I think and how I feel about them.

Since it was just me and Ikfael in the Glen, the uekisheile could hang out in the open as much as they wanted. I spent the next few days looking like a miniature fuchsia bigfoot as a result—their tufts all over my face, arms, torso, and legs. They enjoyed the freedom, as well as the opportunity to eat different kinds of qi again. I mean, mine was still the most delicious, but the fish and small game I’d caught were also good.

We were a little tentative with each other at first, but we did our best to be ordinary. Ordinary was a balm, a respite from the near fracture between us, as well as all the other weirdness that had surrounded us. And honestly, a couple of days of fixing up the Glen, training, hunting, and fishing was exactly what we needed.

My visit to Voorhei had been a whirlwind of activity, and I’d gotten caught up in the villagers’ pace. I didn’t think that I’d made any bad decisions—what I’d learned at the Hunter’s Lodge was proving very useful—but it was good to take some time to properly process everything. My brain was stuffed with information; it was practically spilling out my ears.

Taking care of myself felt good. Some of that was the uekisheile’s enthusiasm overflowing, but it was also a consequence of all the training. I was young and physically fit, and my qi was denser and richer than ever. And when joined with uekisheile, I was able to experience my qi as they did: a hearty stew, but with the delicacy of a consommé.

Then there was Dog’s Agility. The immediacy, the absolute groundedness in the present, and the rush of going fast, fast, fast—it was like being in the zone while playing an old-school shooter, except amped up by ten notches.

My understanding of qi grew by leaps and bounds. The Qi Body skill hit rank 9, and Qi Body Arts increased to 5. More importantly, when joined with the uekisheile, Dog’s Agility became practical. On my own, managing the flow of qi was out of reach and would take tons of practice, but joined with the uekisheile I flickered through the underbrush, one with the land, like a ghost.

Speaking of which, one interesting fact I learned: there were no ghosts in the Glen. Ikfael kept her territory spiritually spotless. Another fact: she was beautiful. As an otter, she was adorable, but looking at her through spirit eyes gave me the impression of Diana Rigg from the days when she was in the old Avengers TV show with Patrick Macnee. Sleek, lithe, and refined.

Also learned during this time: the uekisheile never got tired of playing with metaphors. They didn’t have enough experiences to draw on, though, so they pressed me for memories and comparisons they could appropriate. Ikfael even got into the game. She’d overheard me talking aloud to the uekisheile about the show and demanded I tell her the story so she could animate it with water.

It’d been too long since I last watched the Avengers, so I kludged together a plot about the two heroes, John Steed and Emma Peel, who were hired to protect a land knight from assassins. The protagonists also had to convince his daughter that her lover in the village was a scammer after her wealth. Well, of course it turned out that the scammer was part of a criminal family plotting to kill the land knight and seize his fortune, and Steed and Peel had to fight the whole lot off.

Three nights in a row, we sat around the campfire telling stories, and each time the knight representing Emma Peel was sculpted by Ikfael to look more and more otter-like. It was amusing to watch.

I tried not to think too much about how much Billisha and Aluali would’ve enjoyed being there. And most certainly, I didn’t worry about the Deer God’s intentions. I decided to put him out of my thoughts and focus on my own path. I already had enough on my hands, and the gods could very well take care of themselves.

I’d promised Ghitha Woldecsbrother that I’d retrieve his dead family members, so on the fourth morning after my return, the uekisheile and I joined consciousnesses and ghosted out of the Glen. Crossing the boundary of Ikfael’s territory felt like moving from a sheltered bay into the wide-open sea. The waters were rough and the waves choppy. We kept our footing thanks to Dog’s Agility, though, and we steered a path between the waves.

At one with the land, with our spirit eyes open and the Dog’s Agility spell active, we saw the forest in a new light. The world still tended to sway and shift—like a rocking boat—but there were steady paths we could follow that avoided where the forest was menacing.

A series of thoughts passed through our combined consciousness:

Can we please stop with the metaphors and similes? They’re distracting.

We should tell Ikfael the story of Moby Dick. She would like it, and would animate it well.

We know so many stories. We were lucky our old world was full of them.

They’re in this world too. The world is made of them—we heard someone say that once. We just have to find the stories.

Or the stories find us, like Ollie/Eight found the uekisheile.

We stuck to the brighter patches where the plants, small animals, and spirits seemed—not friendly, the forest was rarely friendly—more straightforward, as if the creatures were too busy being themselves to take notice of us. As long as we didn’t disturb the green things with our passage, they let us go without interference.

Where we pushed through branches or tall grasses, we apologized. Where the bright path vanished, we moved through the murk quickly, avoiding the clinging vines and angry spirits.

When we were moving at our fastest, Dog’s Agility cost us four points of qi every minute. Moving slowly through the forest, the cost dramatically decreased, and we could stretch those four points to last eight minutes. That meant if we used all our qi, we could maintain the spell for seventy minutes straight.

We wanted qi left over in case we ran into anything dangerous, so we alternated between moving with Dog’s Agility and without—prioritizing our newfound spirit eyes for the areas that looked most dangerous. For example, the kalihchi bear’s territory.

We passed through without a trace.

At the top of the escarpment, above the Lion’s Cave, I scavenged the forest for two stout branches, each about six feet long. I stripped them of their twigs and leaves, then found two shorter branches and stripped them too. Together, along with the netting in my backpack, I’d eventually assemble them into a travois to haul the bodies out of the cave. For now, though, I bundled the pieces for easier transport and dragged them behind me using a rope harness around my shoulders and chest.

I took the path down, noting the areas likely to give a travois trouble. There were places where, when the time came to bring up the bodies, I’d probably have to carry them directly to make sure they didn’t fall over the side.

The cave entrance smelled of old blood and rotting meat. Billisha and Aluali had done a good job getting everything useful from the chliapp lion’s carcass, but there were scraps left behind. I waved away the buzzing flies and tossed them down the cliff face.

Honestly, that was something I should’ve done earlier, but my plans to return to the cave had been delayed. Fortunately, the smell didn’t seem to have attracted anything dangerous. I’ll be careful, though, just in case.

The next room was drier than I’d remembered, but then there’d been no rain for a couple of weeks. I inserted mana into the candlestone around my neck, took a deep breath to settle my nerves, and approached the spiral down into the depths of the cave system.

Long fingers of stalactites reached down the center, and the path wound around them. Thinking about coming back this way with the travois, I decided I should save some qi and mana for this stretch. My muscles were going to need the boost on the way up.

At the bottom, the tunnel was flat and wide, like a predator’s mouth—the stalagmites and stalactites looking like its sharp teeth. A breeze blew past me, the air sucked from above into its gullet.

The tunnel’s ceiling was low, so I crawled through on hands and knees. This was one of the sections I’d worried about most. Coming back with the bodies, I’d have to disassemble the travois, bring the parts through, reassemble it on the other side, and go back for the bodies. The whole process would be multiplied by four for each body.

Ugh. I knew that this endeavor was going to be a slog, but the reality was worse than I’d realized. Still, I’d made a deal with Ghitha, and more importantly, I had an obligation to the dead for the gifts they’d given me.

Better to do it in stages. Bring the bodies here where it’s cool and far enough from the entrance to keep from attracting scavengers. The room next to the Lion’s Cave can be the next staging point after this one. Then the morning Ghitha arrives, I move all the bodies to the Glen for the pickup.

As I was reviewing the plan, it occurred to me that I wasn’t afraid. I was wary, sure, and paying attention to my surroundings, but the last time I’d been here, I was in mortal terror of the uekisheile, the eilesheile, the zombies, and the chliapp lions.

This time, though, I had light, and I knew where the exit was. I was also armed and, with Dog’s Agility, had some confidence in my ability to defend myself. Most importantly, the uekisheile was an ally instead of a threat. I can say that, right? I feel comfortable saying that?

The uekisheile didn’t say anything in response, although I felt their attention. We’d come to an agreement that I could be as slow as I wanted in understanding our… relationship. Is that the right word? Anyway, I was still processing recent events, and the uekisheile had learned their lesson in not rushing me. Us.

I got us moving again, and we found the eilesheile flourishing in the Red Room. The lichen grew on every surface, including the ceiling which had been the uekisheile’s spot.

That amused the uekisheile. Let’s join. It’s our turn to offer something delicious to eat.

We became one and observed the swirling qi in the room. It poured down from the holes in the ceiling, rose up from the cave depths, and flowed in from the exit to mingle and circle the room. This had been our home for so long, and we understood how these currents turned the Red Room into a place that nurtured qi. Also, that qi made things tasty.

The eilesheile shivered at our return. They were dumb, and not once did any of them ever respond to our attempts to communicate. All they were good for—the concept was there, ready for us—was farming. They were our livestock. Flavorful—not as delicious as Ollie/Eight, but good food.

With our hands—thumbs were so useful!—we gathered some of the lichen. The eilesheile didn’t know their place. They fought back with a spike of qi—like a needle!—but we knew their ways. A spike of our own separated them from their qi.

With joy, we severed all the connections to the eilesheile’s qi, rendering their ability to fight back useless. We swallowed a mouthful, and our combined mind blanked as the flavors bloomed in our mouth. Umami. Salty. A little peppery. We were reminded of aged parmesan, truffles, and peppercorns.

A thread of concern arose from the Ollie/Eight aspect of our mind, a worry about poison and... addiction. The last time something was this good, our life had been in danger.

It is safe; their parasitism is impotent before us. We don’t need to fear them. They are not like the Evil Death Mushrooms. There is no poison. No narcotics or psychedelics.

We’d spent ages with the eilesheile. We understood them, like… like a shepherd understood their flock. Ah, another simile. How fun!

This was food dense with flavor and qi, and we felt our reserves refilling from just one swallow. Delicious and powerful, the eilesheile was a valued resource. And our ability to neutralize their parasitism meant we could process the eilesheile into a safe, edible spice. It occurred to us that we were surrounded by taak just waiting to be harvested.

We’d taken some eilesheile the last time we were here. Now, we took more. We just needed to be careful with how it was sold: to protect the secret of its source and keep us safe. People had already died trying to get to the Red Room.

Our mouth watered—the eilesheile would be delicious on roasted chicken or in a lamb stew, on pasta, or even sprinkled on buttered bread. Oh gods above, it would taste amazing on French fries. We were deeply grateful that the children had found potatoes in Voorhei. Our family would love the taste, and we collected even more with them in mind.

Afterward, when I was just me again, and more clear headed, I checked my Status and found no weird conditions. More importantly, I noticed I’d regained ten points worth of qi. The Red Room really was a gold mine. I could only imagine how valuable it’d be during the Long Dark.

The uekisheile was smug. See, we told you it was delicious. And we can trade the eilesheile for walls and live in the Glen with Ikfael and Billisha and Aluali. The family can stay together.

Was that your plan? I thought.

There was no plan. We just wanted to share something delicious. But now we have the knowledge of how to make the eilesheile more useful. Their good mood spilled out into my heart dantian. Ollie/Eight was the one who taught us that knowledge is power. More and more, we understand that truth.

17

Returning

Woldec and Kiertie’s bodies lay where I had left them. Nearby, evidence remained of our battle: a handful of spikes jutting from the ground and the shattered remains of stone javelins. The room was currently peaceful, though, dark and silent. The only noise came from the soft crunch of small stones under my feet. Nothing else stirred.

There were no ghosts either, which was a relief. I’d worried about what I’d find, but apparently there hadn’t been anything to keep Woldec and Kiertie’s spirits from moving on.

I headed deeper into the cave, past the underground river and the natural bridge crossing it, until I heard the trilling of bats echoing in the passage. Just ahead was the Bat Room.

A beam of light from a hole in the ceiling shone down to illuminate Akbash’s body. The decay of his soft tissues had progressed since I was last here, and the smell was strong enough to roil my stomach.

Looking around with spirit eyes, I confirmed that there was no ghost present. I did spot some bat spirits, though, and their red eyes stared down at me.

“Ah, don’t mind me. I’m just passing through.”

I jumped the gap in the floor thanks to some qi and nature mana, and made my way deeper still, crawling through a narrow tunnel. The passage was too small for my backpack, so I left it behind and dragged the bundled components for the travois behind me. There were times they got stuck in the twists and turns, but I managed to wiggle them through.

On the other side, after a break to catch my breath, I made my way to where Biaka’s body lay.

I knew. Even before the candlestone illuminated Biaka’s body, I sensed her ghost lingering. Where that knowledge came from, I wasn’t sure. There were none of the telltale signs I had learned to recognize in my previous life. No chills or goosebumps, nor any feelings of static or unease. Just a certainty, confirmed when I became one with the uekisheile and we opened our spirit eyes.

Biaka’s ghost huddled against the stone wall opposite her body. Her legs were drawn in, and she hugged them tight, her head resting on her knees. She didn’t notice us at all. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on her body.

Emotions emanated from the girl in waves, each one rocking us like a boat on the sea: dismay, regret, and an unwillingness to die, especially for something she hadn’t even wanted.

Her mother had always been willful, and then she’d found her match in Woldec. Biaka had had hopes for her new father—that he would tame her mother’s wild schemes and ambitions. Not so. Definitely not so. Instead, he’d gone along willingly, and all that was left for Biaka was a reluctance to let go of the young life that had had so much potential.

Woldec had been delighted to find a woman with a knack for finding treasure. If only the treasure wasn’t hidden away in the dark. If only there hadn’t been a kalihchi bear and a chliapp lion. If only Biaka’s life hadn’t ended in regret and dismay. A life cut too short.

We shook ourselves free from the loop of thoughts and emotions trapping the girl. Fortunately, there were memories from Ollie/Eight’s life we could rely on—old lessons with our abuela about rooting down into the ground, reaching up to the sky, and finding our place in between. Orienting between the two poles kept us stable.

Metaphors. They were metaphors, but like how the mind guided qi, intent guided will. And will was what mattered in the spirit world. We approached the girl, sure of our place between earth and sky, and expressed our will through our words.

“Lay down your regret and your dismay,” we said. “They will not serve you. Lay down your regret and your craving for life. They will only weigh you down. A third time, we say unto you, in the name of the Deer God, lay down your regret and your despair. Let them go and find your way to peace instead.”

The shield around us—Tenna’s Gift—thinned. The girl called Biaka turned her head, and her eyes widened when she saw us. Her mouth opened to speak, but Tenna’s Gift would only stretch so far. Her words could not cross the gap between death and life.

“Be easy.” Ollie/Eight came forward in our consciousness with words needing to be shared. “You are not alone. You only need to step out of your pain—even if it’s just a moment—to recognize those waiting to help you on the other side of life’s embrace. A glimpse is enough to help you find hope and know that death is not the end. Be easy, child. Let go and find your way to peace.”

Biaka’s ghost watched our lips as we spoke. The words couldn’t cross death’s divide, but our thoughts and emotions—our will—did. She closed her eyes, and her face firmed. She gathered her determination and let go of the regret, the despair, and the unwillingness. And then, she opened her eyes in surprise.

Her gaze was somewhere behind us. She lifted her hand in longing and… disappeared.

That gesture, Helen had done the same at the moment of her passing. The memory’s echo reverberated through our consciousness. Tears formed, but we wiped them away. The sorrow was familiar, an old friend.

We did not linger to examine the memory for long. Something large slid through the tunnel above the giant steps leading down to this place. It scraped the walls with its passage, and the flavor of its qi was intense, sharp, and pointed. We shrank ourselves down and kept quiet as it passed.

Once the creature was gone, we worked quickly to assemble the travois. Two of the long poles were tied at one end, and the two shorter branches were used to keep them apart. We strung the net between the poles and attached the rope harness.

Alas, Biaka’s body was too fragile, the putrefaction too far along. The moment we picked her up, pieces fell off. The travois would likely work, but the moment we tried to drag her body directly through any of the tunnels too narrow or twisted for the travois, we knew her corpse would break apart. We needed a container to put her in, and likely the other corpses too.

We recomposed Biaka’s corpse and left the travois beside her for when we came back with something suitable—probably a bag of some kind, as the flexible sides would let us squeeze through the narrow sections better than a box or chest.

When we were sure it was safe to do so, we let go of the land.

I returned to myself again, blinking and unsteady from the sudden loss of combined senses. Being joined with the uekisheile was like swimming through qi, and losing the feeling was like passing from a warm, cozy room into an empty concrete bunker. I had the Qi Sensitive talent, yet it was nothing compared to the uekisheile. Not to mention how we were able to sense the thoughts and memories of the dead thanks to what the Deer God had done to me. We weren’t communicating, so we weren’t breaking Tenna’s Gift, but there was a good chance we were bending the rules.

What exactly happens when the intentions of two gods conflict? My guess was that the System would find a way to make both a reality at the same time. That was a just supposition on my part—it may be the gods fought among themselves here, but that wasn’t the impression I’d gotten in my limited experiences with them. To know the real answer, I’d have to wait and see how things played out.

With much to think about, I went back the way I’d come and retrieved my backpack. Then, I continued onward, across the stone bridge and along the beach. I passed Woldec and Kiertie, the Red Room, and the path up to the Lion’s Cave.

Afternoon light slanted in through the cave’s mouth. There was still plenty of time to make it back to the Glen before dark.

The next couple of days were uneventful. In my downtime, I fished for our meals, told stories, and experimented with my spirit eyes. Mostly, I trained. There was just too much to practice between the hunters’ fighting forms, the Dog’s Agility spell, and everything else. The long summer days helped, as did the Glen’s boost to my ability to recover.

The training was exhausting, but Inleio had stressed that it took effort to signal my intent to grow to the World Spirit. I mimicked the exercises I had learned from him and pushed myself to my limits.

Ikfael looked at me like I was crazy, and maybe I was. But I had a lifetime of experience behind me, as well as the willpower that came with it. More importantly, I knew the preciousness of family and was willing to fight for it.

Because now that I knew the uekisheile wasn’t a danger, the option to bring Billisha and Aluali back to the Glen was on the table again. The only obstacle would be my ability to protect them, so I drove myself past the brink of exhaustion, rested, and then did it again and again and again.

It was time to work, and I’d never been afraid of hard work.

I woke up before dawn in order to prepare for the trip to Voorhei. My deal with Inleio was that I would visit the village for two days out of every ten.

Every other week, the Hunter’s Lodge patrolled the forest surrounding Voorhei in order to cull any plants and animals that might threaten the village. That helped ensure the immediate safety of the villagers, as well as decreased the potential size of the surge during the Long Dark.

The hike was uneventful, and I arrived just as the village gate was opening for the day. Billisha, Aluali, and Bihei stood on the other side. They had the same searching looks on their faces I remembered from when Helen and the kids had waited for me at the airport. There was the same recognition, the same light that spread across their faces, and the smiles and laughter as they ran to hug me. I had loved working on location, but coming home was best.

The kids ran to me and threw themselves into a group hug.

“You are here,” Billisha said into my shoulder.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“Mmm,” she replied.

Aluali didn’t say anything, but I could tell from his hug that he was just as relieved.

Bihei came up behind them. “Are you hurt or injured? Did you eat? We have food ready for the morning meal. You look thin. How did you get so thin in only a few days?”

“How was Ikfael?” Billisha asked.

“Did anything happen while you were gone?” Aluali asked.

Billisha immediately followed up with: “Did you go into the cave?”

“Woah, woah! Hold on.” I laughed, my heart lighter for having reunited with the children. “I’ll tell you all about it, but not while we’re blocking the way for the people trying to get to work. Walk with me to the Hunter’s Lodge, and then whatever I miss, I’ll tell you about tonight.”

18

The Hunt Day

A handful of teams were already gathered in the lodge’s courtyard. They busily checked over their gear, while making small talk. The hunters’ actions were familiar and easy going, but there was also an intensity of attention. They honed blades, oiled leather, tightened straps, and made sure every other possible detail was attended to.

Billisha and Aluali seemed to recognize the mood in the air. They wished me a safe hunt, then left so I could get to work. We’d caught up during the walk to the Hunter’s Lodge, but there’d always be more to talk about. From what I’d heard about their stay in Voorhei without me, they’d been busy.

I found my team inside. Mumu and Haol stood among a gathering of the more senior hunters around one of the butchering tables. Inleio pointed to a map spread out on the table as he briefed them on the plan for the day’s hunt, assigning sections of the forest to each of them.

Meanwhile, the rest of my team sat nearby listening in, with Tegen whispering a running commentary for Teila. He waved me over and had me sit next to her.

The hunt would last two days, and the goal was to remove as many threats to the village as possible from the local area. If we spotted any regular prey—say, a deer or turkey—we’d leave them alone, as it’d take time to dress the kills and transport them back to Voorhei. No, our targets were any creatures with the potential to threaten Voorhei, now or in the future.

Tegen walked Teila and me through the supplies we’d bring and the reasoning behind each. The man was a good teacher, and that was reflected in his talents.

Integnei (Human)

Talents: Braveheart, Patient

Nascent Talents: Natural Mentor

I glanced at Teila to refresh my memory.

Teila (Human)

Talents: Wood-Wise

Nascent Talents: Stealthy

Teila was unusual in that she wasn’t even ten yet. She’d become an apprentice before the other villager kids had the opportunity to do so.

Ten was the age when children technically became adults. Or more accurately, they took the first steps of a five-year process toward adulthood, becoming full-fledged adults at fifteen.

Anyway, at ten years old, every human being, assuming they hadn’t absorbed silver or darklight beforehand, became Level 1. They also tended to get their first attribute to rank 10 around that time, and as a result they awakened their second talent. That was why most people waited until kids were ten to decide whether to take them on as apprentices or not.

Previously, when I had asked Teila about her early apprenticeship, she had told me an exception had been made for her, because both her parents were hunters and everyone had high expectations for her Wood-Wise talent. That was also why she’d been assigned to Mumu’s team. Besides, the lodge apparently had a practice of splitting up hunters from the same family.

The two of us listened to Tegen intently. While I was comfortable enough in the wilderness these days, that was with me doing my absolute best to avoid trouble. This time, though, we’d be searching for it, so I was willing to listen to all the advice I could get.

Tegen had just finished going through the day’s schedule when Ghitha Woldecsbrother walked through the door with three strangers behind him. Two of the three were men and wore brigandine, while the third, a woman, wore a jerkin with a thickly quilted shirt underneath. All carried spears, bows, and packs similar to the ones we were preparing for the day’s hunt.

If the gear wasn’t enough of a clue, each of them also had a sharpness to their eyes, a presence that spoke of the Way of the Hunter. I took a look with the Status camera.

Banan of Albei (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Natural Woodsman, Knack for Leadership, Professional, Face

Kuros the Spear (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Swift, Runner, Enduring, Spearman

Otwei the Hunter (Human, Dawn)

Talents: Tracker, Wily, Poisoner, Decoy

Damn, all three are dawn. Just what level are these guys?

The room quieted when the locals noticed the strangers among them. Inleio gestured for the hunters to clear a path.

“Ghitha, welcome. What have you brought with you on your return from Albei?”

Ghitha nodded to Inleio, but when he spoke, his words were directed to the room. “I have brought help for the lodge. These three are great hunters, and there are another two waiting outside our gate. They are my gift, so that all the hunters may return safely.”

Inleio frowned. “We have spoken about this before: we will not hunt the King of the Forest. The kalihchi bear is too dangerous. Your revenge would threaten the wellbeing of this lodge.”

Huh. It looks like there’s been some drama while I’ve been away.

Ghitha glared at Inleio. “Revenge is not the reason for my visit, but if it so happens the lodge recognizes the prowess of these hunters, then we can talk again. With the right preparations and the right leadership, the King of the Forest is no king at all. He is merely prey for our spears.”

I looked toward Tegen in confusion, and he leaned down to whisper in my ear.

“Ghitha has placed a bounty of two antaak on the head of the kalihchi bear, who we call the King of the Forest. The hunters are undecided on the wisdom of this action.”

I nodded in thanks and glanced around the room. Most of the hunters seemed to be dismissive of the idea, but there were a few who seemed to be considering it.

“This is foolishness,” Inleio said, his frown deepening.

“It is not. Danger now or danger later during the Long Dark? What is the difference, except in how we prepare for it? I, for one, would rather we be the hunters than the hunted. My brother—”

“Your brother is dead,” Inleio said. “And even when he lived, he was not the master of this lodge, though you and he often forgot that truth. To his detriment, he did not heed my advice. I will not have the same thing happen to my other hunt brothers and sisters.”

Ghitha’s face was a storm of barely contained emotions. “If the kalihchi bear had been properly dealt with from the beginning, my brother and family would still be alive.”

“This lodge has hunted the bear twice before. We will not make the same mistake a third time.”

“The only mistake—” Ghitha started, then bit back the rest of his words. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “We are arguing for nothing. Today’s hunt is in the service of the village, and these hunters are my gift to it. Later, once they have demonstrated their skill, I will come again with an offer to each hunter here—a generous offer. And each of the hunters can decide on their own whether or not to participate.”

“They will not,” Inleio said. “They know the danger.”

“We shall see,” Ghitha said. He turned around and swept out of the lodge, nodding to the hunter named Banan as he went.

Banan gave the room an embarrassed smile. “We seem to have stumbled into a family argument. Let me assure you, though, that we are all brothers and sisters here. My team and I will do our best to fulfill our obligations and keep this village safe. We have walked the Way of the Hunter for many, many years, and you can rely on us to be your spear.”

He had an easy way of looking each person in the eye and explaining his team’s purpose. Yes, their employer had hired them with the aim of eventually hunting the kalihchi bear, but for now they were here to support the lodge’s hunt.

Eventually, once the introductions were done, the discussion about the day’s hunt continued. Mumu’s team was recognized as the strongest in the lodge and, as such, was given the area bordering the kalihchi bear’s territory. There’d also been signs of a giant javelina traveling through, as well as a wolf pack expanding their hunting grounds. The wolves seemed to be skirting around the bear’s territory.

That was a lot of activity uncomfortably close to the village, so Banan’s team was assigned the area next to ours. The thinking was that these two strong teams should be able to handle anything thrown their way.

Mumu scouted ahead, while Haol kept an eye on our backtrail and Tegen watched over Teila and me. I’d learned previously that this one-three-one formation was used by every team in the lodge.

The hours passed, the cool air disappearing around mid-morning and the temperature steadily rising over the rest of the day. We stuck to the shade where we could, but the increasing humidity meant there was no true escape from the heat.

At lunch, I cast Cold Snap on the shady side of a boulder, and that provided a brief respite. We ate our jerky practically glued to the cool stone. The hunters had scoffed when they’d learned about the Cold Snap spell, but the relief it brought forced them to reconsider the spell’s utility. I got head pats from the adults, and even shy Teila said a word of thanks.

An hour later, we spotted a beautiful stag drinking from a stream running through a ravine. Each and every one of us sighed to see him bound off.

Twenty minutes after that, we came across a group of three children, all blank faced. One seemed older, a boy standing a head taller than the others, while the other two were a boy and girl. All their clothes were simple but clean, and they sat under the shade of an oak tree. Just staring into space, waiting.

Mumu spotted them first, and she had the rest of us carefully approach. It was pretty obvious that they were false ones. Still, she was obligated to step out into the open and challenge their humanity. Then, if they turned out to be monsters, the adults would kill the larger of the three, and the apprentices would handle the smaller ones.

Well, Mumu didn’t need to go to the trouble. My Status camera told me quite plainly that they were false ones. I shared the information with Mumu using Signed Diaksh, and credited the observation to my spirit eyes.

Mumu grinned at me. “So useful, our Little Pot,” she signed back.

At that, Haol was free to snipe the largest of the false ones, while Teila and I planned to shoot at the other two. He’d be using Spiral Pierce to ensure the kill, while Teila cast the only spell she knew, Camouflage. Tegen counted us down so that we could all release at the same time.

Haol’s arrow punched right through and nailed his target to the oak tree. Two more of his arrows followed quickly after, making sure it was dead. Teila and I also hit our targets, but our arrows didn’t have the potency of Spiral Pierce. We managed four releases each—our targets looking like pincushions by the time they shambled into spear’s reach.

Teila faded back to keep shooting, her Camouflage keeping her hidden, but I stepped forward with my spear. I’d been practicing and wanted to see how far I’d come. Tegen stood nearby, as did Mumu and Haol.

My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty, but I felt ready. I held the spear, and mentally rehearsed the proper forms for thrusting. I reminded myself of the critical components. Stay on the balls of the feet, twist the hips, attack from the core, and extend through the target.

Inside me, I felt the uekisheile spin up my qi into the patterns required for Dog’s Agility. The world slowed down, and my breathing eased. The false ones approached, and the one on the right split open to expose the swamp-green beak and ruffles hidden inside. The beak opened early, the creature anxious to bite and rend.

The beak was too tough for our arrows to pierce, but the interior flesh was soft. An arrow from Teila flashed past me and plunged into the false one’s exposed flesh. The creature fell to the ground, though its companion cared not at all. It also split and opened its mouth at me.

I flashed forward like the arrow, the spear point catching the inside of the false one’s upper beak. I pushed and followed the line down into the soft center—using the impact to knock the creature off its feet. The flesh squelched as I drove it down, and then I lifted the spear free and struck again. Then I realized Teila’s creature was in my blindside, so I stepped around to make sure I could see it. Her false one was still on the ground writhing.

Once I was sure mine was dead, I also gave Teila’s target a coup de grâce. Both of us waited a few minutes longer to see if anything else popped out of the woods, but nothing did. Teila let go of her Camouflage spell, her face beaming.

“We did it,” she signed.

Mumu gave her a head rub, and I got one from Haol.

“Our apprentices are strong,” Tegen signed. “The village prospers.”

There was hardly any silverlight inside the carcasses—just a couple of points worth—but we cut the beaks free. Tegen told us about how they grew in layers and that they were useful in certain crafts. The rest of the creatures we left behind, though, as they apparently didn’t have any medicinal properties and the flesh tasted like ass. His words, not mine.

After a short break and some pointers about our archery and spear skills, we set off again.

In the late afternoon, we started making our way back to Voorhei. We were halfway there when we finally stumbled across fresh tracks left by the giant javelina. If Voorhei was straight ahead of us, then the javelina was traveling from left to right, west to east. Banan’s team was supposed to be out that way, but it wasn’t guaranteed they’d spot the signs of the javelina’s passage.

Teila and I listened to the adults debating whether we should continue in our assigned area or follow the javelina’s trail. The teams had leeway in that regard. The forest was too dangerous and too unpredictable for them to be hemmed in by rigid rules, and the teams’ leaders were expected to act independently, with the village’s welfare in mind.

We didn’t know anything about the javelina except for its size, and that turned out to be the deciding factor. If it had any strange abilities or powers, then it’d jeopardize a team even as strong as Banan’s. Sure, the visiting hunters were all dawn, but the javelina might be just as high-leveled. So, we decided to track the creature, and we’d hopefully be able to join forces with Banan and his team to tackle it together.

We moved slowly, as the tracks appeared fresh and we didn’t want to stumble across the beast by surprise. The strange thing was, though, we never caught up. The javelina apparently never stopped to graze or rest. It just continued to travel, weaving a path through the forest. Maybe it was looking for something? Going on a tour?

It was weird. The tracks looked recent, like we were right behind it, but we never caught up. Mumu darted ahead to see if she could spot the creature. She climbed a pine tree, and even had me use my spirit eyes, in case it was a spirit of the land playing tricks on us.

All I noticed was the lack of anything to notice. The tracks felt strangely empty of spirit, nothing like what a living creature would naturally leave behind. Maybe it was a zombie, like the javelina I’d fought before, only much bigger? All of us were stumped.

An hour before dark, we hightailed it back to Voorhei to report on what we’d found. Tomorrow was another hunt day, and we’d ask for permission to pick up the javelina’s trail again.

We were tired, grimy, and sweaty from being out in the forest all day. I considered slipping away to the stream near the village’s wall for a soak, but Tegen let me know that we were expected at the gate. All the hunters had to be accounted for and treated for any injuries.

When we came in sight of the gate, I spotted Inleio’s desk. He was set up on the road leading up to the village. Nearby were blankets upon which a couple of hunters were being treated. The big draw though—the thing that gathered all the hunters around it—was the corpse… of a giant javelina.

Five feet tall on its side, the javelina must’ve been about ten feet tall standing up. Before the body stood the hunters of Albei, and Banan was doing the talking, gesturing with his hands as he described the kill in detail. We only caught the tail end of the story.

“He charged one last time,” Banan was saying, “but by then, the beast had lost his strength and tripped. Well, of course, we pounced. We came in from both sides and focused on the wounds already inflicted on his neck. With a prize like this, we wanted to keep the hide as intact as possible.”

We seemed to be the last hunters to arrive. As Mumu went to report, I glanced toward the injured hunters. One had a gash across his shoulder that was bound by a bandage, and the other was getting his foot wrapped. It didn’t look serious—maybe a strain?

I’d been keeping the Healing Water spell a secret—mostly because of my initial caution of revealing too much about myself—but as I’d gotten to know the hunters more and more, as I’d seen what they were capable of, I realized that it wasn’t as necessary as I’d feared it would be. They knew that I had Ikfael, a spirit of the land, as a backer. It shouldn’t be too unusual that I’d learned a healing spell from her—not anymore unusual than anything else I did.

I walked over to offer my aid. Well, as expected, that caused a fuss from the gathered hunters, drawing attention away from the javelina. My hunt brothers and sisters demanded an explanation, and I explained how I’d made a deal with Ikfael. I didn’t go into details, though, and hedged enough to make it sound like a recent event.

Afterward, I was scolded by Tegen for not letting the team know beforehand. Any changes in skills, talents, and abilities could impact the team’s survival. When Tegen was done, Haol took a turn, and then Mumu. Even Teila got into the act—she pursed her lips and admonished me. “Bad boy!”

What? Was I a dog now? I would’ve been upset except for two things: one, Teila was adorable, and two, the others weren’t able to hide the joy in their eyes.

I overheard a bit of Tegen whispering to Mumu: “The village prospers.”

The javelina was as normal as a ten-foot-tall animal could be. I checked him over from tusk to hooves. No zombification. No sign of spirit tomfoolery. Nothing that would make for the strange feeling I’d gotten from his tracks.

Otwei, the female hunter who’d come from Albei, must’ve noticed me frowning. “An impressive beast, yes?”

“Where was he? Our team found his tracks, but we ran out of time and couldn’t keep up our pursuit.”

“To the south,” she said. “He was rooting around a field of wild turnips.”

Hmm… we’d noticed he was heading that way, but then his tracks had turned and led us on a meandering route away from where he’d eventually ended up. Strange.

“You are impressed?” Otwei asked.

“Of course,” I said. “He’s huge.”

“It is a shame you were not able to hunt this fine animal, but you do not have to worry—our team will gift the meat to the village. We are here at the village’s service, thanks to Ghitha’s tilwisei.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know that word. Tilwisei?”

“To pay or provide a reward, so that another may exercise their skills and talents.”

So, like sponsorship, then? I tucked the word away in my growing vocabulary.

“Ghitha’s sponsorship is good for the lodge and good for the village,” Otwei said. “You are young, but you should join us when we hunt the kalihchi bear. You will learn much from watching us work.”

I glanced around and noticed that the other hunters from Albei were also working the crowd; they talked to the hunters and encouraged them to join the bear’s hunt. The final two members of their team turned out to be dolbec.

My heart jumped a beat. For a moment, all I could see was the dolbec bandit who’d kept Billisha and Aluali captive. I quickly checked my camera.

Agath of Dolbec’s Rock (Human, Dolbec, Dawn)

Talents: Sturdy, Shieldmaiden, Enduring, Loyal

Moon of Dolbec’s Rock (Human, Dolbec, Dusk)

Talents: Stalwart, Natural Skirmisher, Adventurous, Loyal

According to Inleio, the dolbecs were a ‘lost’ people, descended from a man named Dolbec who’d ‘strayed’ from the Path to Perfection by using darklight. They were still considered human, but were fundamentally changed as a result of their ancestry. And apparently, that wasn’t enough for Moon; the fact that he was dusk told me he was also using darklight to level up.

I quickly gave Otwei a noncommittal answer and jogged closer.

The two were seven feet tall and looked close enough related to be brother and sister, with the brother, Moon, seemingly just a couple of inches taller. They’d taken off their brigandine and set aside their weapons. Only a couple of hunters talked to them—Mumu and Haol—and the dolbecs sat on the ground in order to not tower over them.

I paid special attention to Moon, but he didn’t appear to be different from Agath, or even Boscun, the dolbec I’d killed to free Billisha and Aluali. He didn’t have any extra eyes or scaly skin or anything like that. The mutations from using darklight that Ikfael had warned me about weren’t present at all. Maybe the stuff doesn’t affect dolbecs the same way it does other humans? Do they have resistance to it, or maybe a way to minimize the adverse effects?

The dolbecs were relaying their version of the hunt. It’d been their role on the team to draw the javelina’s ire and weather his attacks. That wasn’t a strategy used much in Voorhei, so my teammates were curious.

That was something I noticed about all the top hunters in the lodge—they always wanted to learn more: about the animals in the forest, about skills and talents, about tactics and strategies… about everything, really. That seeking of knowledge was integral to their pursuit of the perfection of their path.

I listened in, but the talk was all shop. The dolbecs didn’t even bother encouraging Mumu and Haol to participate in the kalihchi bear’s hunt. They left that to their teammates. Speaking of which, I noticed Otwei talking to Borba and gesturing toward the giant javelina.

The kill proved to be a public relations coup for the Albei team, and they were working it hard. If my team had been quicker, would it have been us bragging in their place? I couldn’t help feeling suspicious of their good fortune… and our bad fortune. Watching Otwei, I was reminded that she had a talent called Decoy.

“Do hunters ever compete?” I asked, the words spilling out of my mouth.

The adults turned their attention to me.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just suddenly curious.”

“Our Little Pot of Questions is always curious,” Mumu said. “Well, your path right now is to learn, so there’s no need to apologize. The answer is yes: hunters compete. The stag that you kill will not feed me or my family. At the same time, the stronger you are, the stronger the lodge. And the stronger the lodge, the safer the village. So, while hunters compete, they do not begrudge each other any good fortune encountered.”

“Hmm… that sounds reasonable in principle,” I said, “but I’d guess some people don’t take kindly to losing out.”

Haol sighed. “Human nature is what it is. Fortunately, our lodge master is discerning. Very little escapes his eyes.”

“And in the Soldier’s Lodge, as well,“ Agath said. “Our lodge master must take special care, since our lives are so often at risk.”

“Wait,” I said, “you’re not hunters?”

It was Moon who responded, and he did so in sign language. “No, we are—” and then he made a gesture I didn’t recognize.

Mumu must’ve seen the confusion on my face. “They are soldiers who fight for pay. The word is mercenaries. Villages who need extra protection, traveling merchants, and anyone else can hire them. Even hunters, when they are looking for people with specific skills for their teams.”

“Our symbol is the kalath,” Agath said.

Once again, I didn’t know a word, but she produced a copper coin with the image of a tower on it, and I got the meaning that way.

Oh, the coin looks familiar. Then it hit me that I had ten of them. They were among the things I’d recovered from the remains found in the dragon’s turd. Billisha had told me that she thought they were lodge coins, but she didn’t know the lodge. Turns out it was the Soldier’s Lodge.

“What are the coins used for?” I asked.

“Soldiers use them to buy supplies, special training, and the other things offered by the lodge.”

Mumu looked closely at the coin in the dolbec’s hand. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one curious. “The hunters don’t use coins, even in Albei. Our contributions are tallied and kept by the masters. This is my first time seeing a soldier’s coin.”

I briefly considered mentioning the ones in my possession and where I’d gotten them, but decided against it. There were already too many things pulling at my attention, and I didn’t need another connection-relationship-obligation to distract me. On top of that, there was no good to gain for me or anyone else. The soldier’s magic knife had already been traded to Ikfael, and I’d respectfully found a burial place for the body. The soldier’s family might be comforted to know that, but I didn’t have any obligations to them, just to the dead.

Besides, I still had suspicions about Banan’s team. If they had a way to lure others offtrack, then wouldn’t that help them get the best kills? That was the question I wanted to ask, but I’d wait until we were somewhere more private.

The mercenaries might not have been core members of his team, but they could still be complicit. I’d have to watch myself around them.

Agath raised her hand—I swear her palm was the size of a dinner plate. “May I?”

I was uneasy, but her eyes were mild and I didn’t sense any intent to harm.

When I nodded, she patted my head, her rough hands gentle. She turned to Mumu and asked, “This is your apprentice? I like his curiosity. It is good to wonder about the world.”

Mumu answered. “Yes, one of them. The other ran off somewhere.”

“Apprentices do that, don’t they?” Agath said, withdrawing her hand.

The adults laughed at that.

“Except, I don’t run off,” I said.

Mumu slapped me across the back of my head. “What are you thinking? You run off the most!”

19

Don’t Blynx

My family’s evening meal was interrupted by someone clapping outside the door. “It is Ghitha. I have come with a gift of meat.”

Aluali paused his story about being dared to put his head inside the giant dog Jesei’s mouth by one of the neighbor kids. From the proud expression on his face, my guess was that he’d succeeded, but I wouldn’t know for sure until the story’s conclusion. I gestured for him to wait and got up to open the door.

Ghitha and Banan stood outside, with the Albei team leader carrying a wicker basket full of meat wrapped in fronds.

“It is good to see you well,” Ghitha said. He took one of the frond parcels and handed it to me. “This is a token of my esteem to you and all the other hunters.”

Banan nodded along. “The javelina was a mighty beast, but thanks to Ghitha’s sponsorship, we killed him before he could become a danger to the village. This is something I’ve learned over the years as a hunter: remove threats before they can become a true danger during the Long Dark.”

“That is why I am also sponsoring a hunt for the kalihchi bear,” Ghitha said. “The longer we wait, the more dangerous he becomes.”

“I’ve seen creatures like him before,” Banan said. “If you let them grow, they become catastrophes. Ghitha’s sponsorship of this hunt is a true service to the village.”

“I am a man of Voorhei,” Ghitha said. “Of course I would see the village safe. That is why I offer half an antaak to those willing to join the hunt, and another half at its conclusion. My hope is that you will join us, Eight. You have already demonstrated skill and bravery in helping my family find their rest. I am sure you will be satisfied with this hunt as well.”

The two men had their pitch down, I had to give them that. As for the offer, assuming the hunt was successful, the reward was a small gold coin. That was practically a fortune, worth just about two hundred days of peasant labor.

When Ghitha saw me hesitating, he said, “You do not need to decide tonight. The hunt will take place in forty days’ time. Banan and his team will reside in Voorhei until then and join in our lodge’s activities. You will see their skills for yourself and feel assured of the hunt’s success.”

“I have already heard much about you, young Eight,” Banan said, “and I offer my team’s help in transporting the bodies of our sponsor’s family.”

Banan’s voice was sincere and serious. He looked me directly in the eyes, but I wasn’t convinced. There was this niggling thought at the back of my mind—a suspicion that they had somehow led my team astray just so they could bag the giant javelina before us.

“No, thank you,” I said. “The help isn’t necessary. I scouted the task already and have a plan in place. Thank you for the offer, though.”

Banan nodded. “My team will escort Ghitha when he attends the meeting with the spirit called Ikfael, so if you change your mind, let us know.”

“Albei’s hunters will be going?” I asked Ghitha.

“Along with the normal escort, yes.” He gestured toward the pyramid. “Our Sheedi doesn’t travel through the forest alone, and she welcomed the additional protection. She felt it would give her request to Ikfael additional weight.”

I didn’t know Sheedi that well yet, but that did sound like her. “All right. I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

“Of course. We are hunt brothers,” Banan said.

The man was laying it on thick, but I did my best not to show my dislike for him and his team. They were all at least Level 5. It wouldn’t do to get on their bad sides. Plus, I didn’t know for sure that they’d engaged in any funny business. The forest was a strange and dangerous place. The reason my team didn’t find the giant javelina could’ve been completely unrelated.

I saw Ghitha and Banan off, then returned to the family meal. They’d heard everything, of course, and had questions and concerns. Especially concerns. Bihei shared stories of the two previous times the village had tried to hunt the kalihchi bear. Apparently, they’d been disasters.

The bear was too canny for traps, and also resistant to poison. He possessed monstrous strength, claws that carved through steel, and the ability to cast lightning at will. Inleio had barely survived the last hunt. Five other hunters did not.

The meal went on, but the atmosphere was a lot more solemn.

To lighten the mood, I asked Aluali to finish his story from earlier. For the record, he managed to put his head inside the giant dog’s mouth and come away unscathed.

The next day, Mumu’s team was assigned the area to the southwest of the village again. The Albei team, though, was given a new assignment—still adjacent, but they were tasked with the borders of the wolves’ and the kalihchi bear’s territories.

The two teams traveled together on the way to our assignments, so we got to see their woodcraft in action. Eh… maybe I was being picky, but the Albei team wasn’t so hot. I mean, their Stealth skills were okay, but they didn’t become part of the landscape like Mumu, Haol, or even Teila. The only exception was Otwei, which made sense since she was their scout and tracker.

Every once in a while, I caught Banan and Kuros glancing our way with amused expressions. They confidently moved between the trees, likely trusting in Otwei to spot any danger heading their way, while we moved much more carefully.

Haol must’ve noticed the disdain. His shoulders rose up, and his lips pursed. He didn’t say anything, though, and stuck to his trail discipline.

Tegen gave him a light nod of approval. “Be easy,” he signed. “We follow our own path.”

Haol nodded back and took a breath. He straightened his shoulders, focusing his attention on the forest where it belonged. Interestingly, the amused glances from Banan and Kuros stopped soon after. It seemed they weren’t getting under Haol’s skin anymore, so why should they bother? To my eyes that had clearly been their goal: to mess with the country bumpkins.

Yeah, Banan and company are strong, but what good is that strength when they’re so petty?

Once we split from the other team, the rest of the morning went more smoothly. Teila and I practiced our archery against a metal-beaked vulture circling in the air. While the creature didn’t pose a danger at a distance, hitting a moving target at fifty yards proved difficult.

We tracked down the body afterward, and Tegen explained how this variety of vulture didn’t depend on scavenging like their brethren. Instead, its beak was strong enough to sever small limbs. It’d fly in, latch onto a body part, bite through, and fly off with it.

The beak, claws, and feathers were all useful, so we took them as well as its silverlight. The rest we left for the forest to consume.

Later, we ran across some chishiaxpe, and I used the opportunity to harvest more poison. The others became concerned by my enthusiasm for cutting the vines in half, so I told them about how I’d been stung once and nearly died. If it hadn’t been for Ikfael, I would have. It was personal between me and the vines. Plus, the poison was super useful.

The team helped me clear the whole patch and milk the chishiaxpe of their poison. We didn’t finish until nearly two in the afternoon, and we ate a lunch of corn dumplings stuffed with pork. Well, it was actually javelina meat, but the taste was the same.

The weather was still gods-awful hot, but we found a sweet little shaded glade that kept the worst of the heat away. On top of that, the ground was dotted with pretty little yellow wildflowers, the same color as mustard plants.

I was just about to ask Tegen if they were edible, when the uekisheile slammed my qi into action, spinning it up into the pattern for Dog’s Agility. My body twitched as something sharp missed my throat and cut across my chest instead.

The area in front of my eyes blurred. Vaguely, I was aware of the other hunters reacting, but all I could do was to put distance between me and whatever had just attacked me. I rolled off the rock I had been sitting on and found my feet.

I’d left my spear on the other side of the rock, so I drew my hunting knife. The blur lunged at me. Things were moving too fast for me to remember anything of the knife forms I’d learned, so I jumped back, my knife swinging to keep the creature away.

I didn’t dare blink for fear of losing sight of my attacker. The blur distorted around the knife’s edge. For a moment, I saw the shape of a furred head and eyes. A spear came flying out of my peripheral vision, but before it could connect the blur vanished with a soft pop.

All around me, qi surged as the hunters invoked their spells. Haol and Mumu got faster. I’d never seen Tegen fully in action, but now I saw him transform, his skin thickening. There was also a new density to him, like he was made of iron. Meanwhile, Teila had disappeared.

With another pop, the blurred figure reappeared, this time to swipe at a nearby bush. The bush burst as Teila rushed out, colors blurring while her Camouflage spell fought to keep up with the movement. Spears lunged at the creature. An arrow sped past. But the creature was gone again.

I smelled iron, and realized my shirt was soaked with blood.

Conditions

Occupied (Treaty*), Bleeding (1)

The damage wasn’t as bad as I’d feared. The creature’s claws had got caught on my jacket and the edge of my chain shirt. Teila hadn’t been so lucky. She stumbled out of Camouflage, her jacket shredded around the left shoulder. Blood flowed freely.

Tegen ran to her and placed his hands on the wound. I felt the pulse of qi, green and nourishing, flow between them.

“Eight, help her as well,” Mumu said. “Haol and I will watch for the blynx.”

I nodded to show I’d heard, and pulled out my water skin to douse Teila’s shoulder with half of the Healing Water spell I cast. The rest got poured on my chest. My bleeding stopped, as did Teila’s.

“That’s a good spell,” Tegen said. His voice was deeper and rougher than before. He sounded like a roadhouse ruffian, not the thoughtful mentor I’d gotten used to. “Up, Teila. Get your spear and fight through the pain.”

“Yes,” she said, gritting her teeth.

We two apprentices stood back-to-back while the others scanned the forest, ready for the blynx’s return.

The beast’s real name was blinking lynx, a lynx that—in the blink of an eye—moved from place to place. In other words, a teleport. Matched with an unparalleled Camouflage ability, it made for a deadly ambush hunter. Fortunately, most blynxes were small, only a little larger than regular lynxes, and solitary hunters. That was why it’d likely gone after me and Teila. We’d be easier to carry away to somewhere safe to eat.

Tense minutes passed, but the blynx didn’t return. It must’ve realized that with the failed ambush, trying again would be too dangerous. Mumu gave the all clear.

“It’s gone,” she said. “But stay on your guard. Haol and I will keep watch. Tegen, make sure the wounds are clean.”

As Tegen knelt to look at my chest, he said, “I’ll never mock you for that patchwork of a chain shirt again.”

“I didn’t realize you had.” I clenched my fists to keep them from shaking. The adrenaline drop was hitting me hard.

“In the quiet of my head,” he said, “but I’ll apologize for it now. And thank you for healing Teila. Your spell is much faster than mine.”

“Of course. She’s my hunt sister.” As for the chain shirt, I didn’t blame him at all. It made me look ridiculous, like an adventurer hobo, but if that was the cost of its usefulness, I’d happily pay it. If not for it and the uekisheile’s quick response, I would’ve died.

The blynx’s tracks disappeared for long stretches as the beast changed directions by teleporting to a new location. Each time we lost signs of its passage, we were forced to hunt in ever-widening circles to find them again. The animal seemed particularly fond of teleporting through thorny brambles and up steep rocky slopes.

I drifted in and out of the land, looking for where the forest spirits were upset by the animal passing through. Three hours of tense searching later, we found blood; the ground was splattered where the blynx had caught new prey.

The area stank of the musky spray of a skunk. We were careful at first, just in case it was the poisonous variety—they had those in this world—but none of the plants were wilted.

“Easy now,” Mumu signed. “Slow and silent. Look for a hidden or enclosed space. The blynx will have taken their meal there to eat.”

We circled the area and found blood drops smeared against the roots of a tree fifteen yards out. We circled again and found a blood trail another ten yards away. The ground was disturbed, as it seemed like the blynx had dragged its meal for a time, and then the trail disappeared again.

Above us was a rocky hillside. Mumu gestured for us to wait. She climbed slowly, the loose rocks threatening to shift under her feet. The rest of us hunkered down, each taking a direction to watch.

Mumu made her way across the hillside, and about twenty yards up and to the south, she knelt to examine the ground next to a gathering of large boulders leaning against each other. A moment later, she waved us closer.

We were greeted by the stink of a dead skunk. Another smear of blood led inside the small opening. None of the adults would be able to fit through, though, so I started to slip off my backpack.

Tegen put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “We can wait to ambush,” he signed.

“It’ll just blink away again once it’s outside,” Haol signed.

Mumu frowned, but Haol was right. Our best shot to kill the blynx was for someone to crawl inside where it wouldn’t be able to get away. In the open, our ability to contain the blynx dropped to zero.

I was the best choice to go, given the size of the opening. While I was only an apprentice, I was also technically an adult. Or at least at the beginning stages of being one.

Mumu, not seeing any other solution, reluctantly nodded and gave me permission to go ahead. I took off my backpack and set aside my spear. The length wouldn’t work inside the small space, so I drew my hunting knife.

Tegen stopped me again, but this time he brought me down the hillside. Then, he searched for a short branch, about two feet long, and chopped it free. He trimmed it and bound one of my stilettos to the tip to make an improvised short spear.

“Use this instead of a knife,” he signed. “Do your best to keep the blynx’s claws at a distance. Now, show me what you remember of the ground fighting forms.”

The Hunter’s Lodge had a set of forms for when one was on their back, so I ran through the ones I’d likely need.

Tegen nodded and helped me stand up. “It’ll do.”

When we rejoined the others, Mumu and Haol were debating the benefits of firing arrows into the opening. There was a bend in the crawlspace, though, so we’d have to catch the blynx by surprise as it came around the corner for the plan to work.

“Change of plan?” Tegen asked.

Mumu gave a quick shake of her head. “We trust in Eight’s skill.”

I put on my bravest smile and dropped to the ground to crawl through the hole, bringing the improvised short spear with me. The smell of skunk and raw meat was so much worse inside.

I became one with the land, and together with the uekisheile, we cast Dog’s Agility. We also cast Healing Water in case we needed it later, enchanted our spear and muscles with nature mana and qi, and prepared Cold Snap. As ready as we could be, we inched forward.

We breathed softly and moved slowly. Dog’s Agility wanted us to move fast, fast, fast, but we knew that every movement needed to be intentional, the placement of hands and knees thought out with care. We took our time. Both the uekisheile and Ollie/Eight were patient hunters.

The two had walked the path of the hunter for years. Yes, the uekisheile was a shepherd and farmer of eilesheile, but they’d also ambushed any who were unwary and passed below their spot in the Red Room. As for Ollie/Eight, they had not lived as long, but their memory was rich with experience.

Confidence surged through us. A plan was hatched. Just before the bend in the crawlspace, we separated a portion of ourselves, our tendrils transitioning from qi to physical form. Our mind dimmed as this portion split themselves off from the greater consciousness.

Becoming one with the land, this portion of ourselves traveled up the stone wall to the ceiling of the crawlspace and picked their way around the corner. We no longer had the benefit of Ollie/Eight’s eyes, but our qi sense was enough to detect the blynx only a few feet away. Closer and closer we came until we gripped the stone right above it.

We dropped. The blynx twitched, but it was too late. Our tendrils penetrated its flesh, and we transformed again into qi to dig our way into its meridians.

The blynx yowled in surprise. Its qi was liquid fire, running fast. While we sped through the blynx’s meridians, our consciousness tried to move Ollie/Eight’s body so we could use the spear Tegen had made for us. However, the brain and nerves weren’t designed for a consciousness like ours. Moving two bodies at once was beyond us.

So we focused our attention on the portion of ourselves inside the blynx. Its qi pumped in panic, but our tendrils traveled through the meridians along with it—flowing into two different dantians.

We homed in on the places the meridians connected, then cut them. Qi spilled loose, pooling randomly. We felt a wave of intention roll through the qi, but it was too late. The blynx was nothing more than food now. All that was left was for the body to catch up to that reality and die.

We let our attention inside the blynx dim so we could move Ollie/Eight’s body closer. We noted our preparation for Cold Snap was lost, and our control of Dog’s Agility had been compromised. That was upsetting. We thought we were more competent and our control more precise.

It would have to become another ability to practice. Later. At another time. When the hunt for this blynx was complete.

We crawled around the corner and saw the blynx clawing at the air, attacking an opponent it couldn’t reach. It did not realize we were present until we’d stabbed it with our spear.

The blynx, suddenly given a foe it could reach, lashed out. We pressed to keep it away from our face and body. Pain bloomed along our arms, and our sleeves turned crimson as the claws tore gashes in our flesh. Our hands spasmed, letting the spear go.

We pushed ourselves away. The motion was awkward, but we moved as quickly as we could. Then we felt ourselves pulled. We looked and saw Teila grabbing our feet. Another pair of hands held her legs, and we both were dragged free of the hole.

Tegen gently placed his hands on our arms, and we felt cool, nourishing qi flow into us. It was incredibly refreshing, but it wouldn’t be enough.

“In our water skin,” we said. “There is Healing Water.”

Teila nodded and poured the magic on our arms. The pain eased, and the wounds closed. The delight of seeing our magic at work arose within us. Ollie/Eight as a young child had dreamed of moments like this.

“How fares the blynx?” Mumu asked, spear at the ready.

Haol stood nearby with an arrow nocked.

“Injured,” we said, “and dying.”

Mumu nodded. All of us could hear the blynx’s yowls. Minutes passed, and the sounds of the animal’s death throes diminished.

We let go of the land, and I took a breath. A part of me reeled from the experience of invading another being; the taste of the blynx’s qi was in my mouth. It was a powerful ability—disabling a person’s qi—but it had left me vulnerable. I’d have to be careful with how I used it in the future.

The one thing continuing to go through my head, though, was how grateful I was that uekisheile was an ally. Woe to anyone who is their enemy.

A portion of them was still inside the blynx, but I planned to volunteer to retrieve the body and would pick them up again then. But not yet—the team wanted to be certain the blynx was dead first.

I… we’d done it though—proven that the uekisheile and I could work together, and that the growing pains we’d experienced were worth the effort. The decision to stick together had been a wise one so far. Maybe things will work out, after all.

20

Truth and Visitations

We waited an hour, and I spent the time thinking about Kevlar gloves, the kind used by veterinarians to deal with feral cats. Not that they’d actually protect my arms from something like a blynx’s claws. Unless maybe they were stitched with small sections of iron? Like brigandine, but smaller? No, that’d make them too heavy. Bone might work, though. Or lacquered wood, like the samurai used.

The other thing I considered was the blynx’s ability to… well, blink. While merged with the uekisheile, I’d gotten a glimpse at the ability in action, but no matter how much I tried to recollect the magics involved, the patterns were jumbled. The only hope for deconstructing and reconstructing the ability was to study the body.

Maybe I can exchange my share of the blynx’s bounty for the skull and sternum? That was where I’d felt the flow of qi—and to a lesser degree, mana—the strongest.

Keeping an eye on the forest below, waiting for the blynx to die, I signed to my teammates my idea.

We were on our way back to Voorhei when we ran into the hunters from Albei again. Teila and I carried the blynx’s remains split between us, but our kill was completely outshone by a wolverine the size of a small car on a travois dragged behind Agath and Moon.

The fur was midnight black, except for a streak of white fur across the head. The claws were a foot long each and wickedly sharp. Alive, the animal must’ve been death incarnate, and yet, it had met its match in the team from Albei.

The dolbecs looked worn, their armors clawed, and I saw evidence of bandages underneath. Meanwhile, the others strode through the forest untouched, proud of their kill.

“Don’t be too upset,” Banan said after greeting us, his gaze lingering on the blynx. “It’s not the size that matters. Any animal, no matter how small, has the potential to grow into a deadly killer.” His smile seemed sincere, but I caught sight of Kuros smirking behind him.

Mumu was out scouting ahead, so Tegen took it upon himself to respond: “The hunter who follows the path will never be led astray.”

Banan quirked his head. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aren’t we trading truths?” Tegen asked. “Would you like more? I have many. My favorite is this: imperfect stones line the Path to Perfection.”

Banan shook his head. “I wasn’t trading. I just wanted to comfort you. Your kill is smaller—”

“Yes, I know,” Tegen said. “And I was just trying to comfort you in return.”

“But I don’t need comforting,” Banan said, his confusion seemingly growing.

“Ah,” Tegen said, looking embarrassed on Banan’s behalf, as if there was scat in Banan’s hair and he hadn’t realized it. “Then never mind.”

Tegen turned toward Voorhei and gestured for us to follow along. When he was out of view of the Albei team, he signed, “One thing you should never do is to play the games of imbeciles. Follow your own path. Always.”

Inleio was outside the village gate to welcome the hunters and record the day’s events. There were more injuries than yesterday; the worst of today was a bad fracture of the femur. The injured hunter was an older woman.

They’d given her a potato-based liquor to help with the pain, but even so her teammates had to hold her down to keep her still. There were tears in her eyes and a wooden dowel in her mouth to keep her from screaming. I rushed over to cast Anesthetic, and her body slumped with relief. Her breathing was still ragged, but at least she’d stopped writhing.

An older man worked quickly to arrange the bones before binding them. He smelled faintly of qi, and I recognized the scent of Nature’s Spring.

“How long will the spell last?” someone asked.

The question was directed toward me, so they were probably wondering about Anesthetic. I didn’t catch who’d asked it, though. I looked up and noticed that the whole team was sprinkled with gray hair. Their faces were stoic, but there was concern in their eyes.

“A minute for each cast,” I said.

“And how many casts can you do?” The woman asking was lithe as a whip, and the others seemed to defer to her.

“Five, but it’d be better to save a couple for my healing spell.”

She nodded. “You heard,” she said to the man arranging the bones. “Three minutes, Ben.”

The modern-sounding name threw me, but a quick look with my Status camera showed that his name was actually Benseisu. Ben was his nickname, and the team leader was—click—Kesalei.

Ben nodded, sweat rolling down his face, but his hands never stopped. After a minute, the injured woman started to groan, so I recast Anesthetic.

“The bone’s in three pieces,” Ben said, “but the breaks feel clean. I’ve put them together as best I can.”

Kesa turned to me. “I saw your healing spell yesterday. It needs bare skin, right?”

I nodded. “The water has to touch the body.”

“Go ahead. We’ll bind the leg after and then cast Nature’s Spring too.” She looked around to count the hunters nearby. “Not everyone has returned, so you should save your mana, just in case there’s an emergency.”

My water skin was out of water, so I had to borrow Teila’s. She’d come up behind me to watch. The mana rose within me, the Healing Water runes transforming it from neutral and tasteless to cool and refreshing.

I poured the water on the broken leg, and almost immediately the swelling started to go down. I couldn’t tell what was happening inside, but I’d experienced the spell healing my severest injuries in three casts. Because of that, I believed two casts would be enough to see the leg out of danger. Plus, there’d be Nature’s Spring for aftercare.

I stopped after one, though, as instructed, and stepped away to find a quiet place. Kesa made good sense when cautioning me to save mana in case there was another medical emergency, so I spent the next couple of hours meditating. Working together with the uekisheile, we could recover four points worth of mana every hour. Each of those four points was worth a cast of Healing Water.

Once all the hunters had returned, they did an assessment of all the injuries, and I had to cast Healing Water three more times: one on the femur I’d treated earlier, one on a bad gash on a hunter’s arm, and one on a puncture. The last two injuries were on separate hunters on the same team, which had arrived at the end of the day.

“Is this typical?” I asked Tegen afterward. I couldn’t imagine that the hunt days were sustainable, given the rate of injury.

He shook his head. “It’s not usually this bad. We were unlucky today. And with Woldec and Grunthen gone, the animals are getting bolder. They’re coming closer to the village than they used to. But don’t worry, apprentice, our spears are sharp and our wits sharper. We will manage, as we always have.”

That evening, the family’s meal was interrupted. This time, though, it was Kesa and Ben stopping by to deliver a chicken as a thank you for the help earlier. They exchanged a few words with Bihei, but refused to join us for the rest of the meal. The colorful bird was added to Bihei’s flock, and we were just sitting down to eat again when we heard another clap outside.

It was Inleio and Mumu, both wearing serious expressions.

They asked about the Healing Water spell, and I explained the situation—that I’d learned the spell from Ikfael and wasn’t sure it was appropriate to submit it to the Hunter’s Lodge without her permission.

They nodded in understanding, and talked about how if they were able to get her permission, then it would be a huge boon for hunters everywhere. Nature’s Spring was powerful, but the spell had a fatal flaw: an inability to address severe injuries quickly. Hunters sometimes died faster than the spell could heal.

We were discussing possible trades with Ikfael when Sheedi showed up to also talk about the spirit of the land’s preferences for tribute. She wanted to make sure Ikfael saw the village in the best light possible and would thus be amenable to building a shrine in the Glen.

Poor Bihei and the kids scrambled to prepare food for the sudden guests. Inleio and the rest originally refused to join the meal, but the discussion dragged on and soon they were helping themselves to the tomato stew and roasted potatoes.

And that was when Banan and Otwei showed up. It wasn’t entirely clear why they came to visit, but I did catch an awkward glance between them when they saw Inleio and Mumu present. My guess was that they were interested in the Healing Water spell too. Fortunately, they didn’t stay long.

Once all the discussions were done, only Mumu lingered behind.

“You asked me to look into the family of the ghost boy in the pyramid,” she said. “I found them, and I told them we’d visit tonight or tomorrow.”

“Then let’s make it tonight,” I said.

My preference was to leave for the Glen early in the morning. I had to stop by the lodge to help with butchering the blynx, but there was nothing else keeping me. The kids had done my shopping while I was out hunting, and I was now the proud owner of four waxed burlap bags. They were normally used when picking crops, but they’d work fine to hold the remains of Woldec and his family.

“We won’t be long,” Mumu said to Bihei and the kids.

I followed her out into the warm evening. It must’ve been windy high up, because the clouds raced against the backdrop of the starry night. The breeze felt good and carried with it the scents of cooking from the other longhouses. Not every house could afford candlestones, and those that didn’t had windows flickering with the light of non-magical fires.

We walked toward the southern wall, and I saw the longhouses weren’t as well built there. The wind carried fewer animal sounds—some chickens and a goat or two. An elderly ox had been left outside, and when we passed by I realized why. She was a flatulent old girl, the smell raising the hairs all along my arms.

Mumu grimaced at the smell. “We’re here.”

I clapped my hands outside their door. “It is Eight. I come with news of a family member who died long ago.”

“And I am Mulallamu. I accompany Eight on this errand.”

Well, there wasn’t much more to say about what happened. The longhouse was in rougher shape than Bihei’s, and the family’s clothes weren’t as nice. The food was good, although I only had a bite for the sake of politeness.

The family listened to my story, and they explained that it was a great grand uncle who had died during a particularly bad Long Dark. Then, I told them about how he still cared for his family and wanted them to be well. The family present had only heard of him, but they seemed comforted to know he’d moved on. They tried to offer me a reward—half a dozen eggs—but I refused. Looking at the family’s kids, I could see they needed all the protein they could get.

One of the tykes came up to me and asked about ghosts. He wanted to know if there were any in their longhouse. His sister said there were, and that they would bite his toes if he didn’t do his chores. The adults all hid their smiles.

“Let me look,” I said. And why not? I became one with the land and looked around the longhouse.

A gray-feathered, red-eyed chicken stood by the food, fruitlessly pecking at the corn, but there were no other ghosts. I caught motion out of the corner of our eye, though, and stepped outside fast enough to see Bindeise’s ghost duck inside another longhouse. I nearly tripped, the world tilting sideways, but the uekisheile caught me. Our consciousnesses quickly merged, spinning up a low-level Dog’s Agility to handle the additional sensory inputs that came with my spirit eyes.

The boy chased after us. “What’d you see? Was it a ghost?”

We nodded solemnly. “Yes, but not a scary one. This ghost rewards hard work. Also, there’s a ghost chicken, but she doesn’t seem to harbor any ill intentions.”

We stood out in the open. Mumu was with us, just outside the neighbor’s longhouse where Bindeise had fled.

“You might as well come out,” we said. The words were meaningless to the ghost, but we believed the intent would carry.

Bindeise poked their head through the wall, their normally stubborn face looking sheepish. The portion of us that was the uekisheile felt the urge to play with the word sheepish—a wonderful metaphor!—but a firm intention arose from Ollie/Eight to focus and not be distracted.

The last time we’d seen Bindeise, they’d come too close and we’d pushed them away. Our intention hadn’t been to hurt them. They’d merely startled us, but thankfully they were unharmed.

A thought arose from Ollie/Eight to clarify a misunderstanding. ‘He’ surprised us. Not ‘they.’ The consciousness of a human being is unified under a singular I. The pronouns differ depending on the person and their gender.

It was a curious concept and worth considering. But not now—not when there was a ghost before us.

Bindeise—their… his treasure was no longer necessary now that we could farm the eilesheile. The mystery of his murder was a puzzle we continued to ponder, however, and both Ollie/Eight and the uekisheile found puzzles fascinating. They were an itch that needed to be scratched.

Pleased with the metaphor, we asked, “Do you still want us to find your killer?”

When Bindeise saw that we meant to communicate, he stepped out from the wall, but the meaning of our words didn’t appear to register. He merely stared at us intently.

“Did he answer?” Mumu asked.

We shook our head. “No, Tenna’s Gift keeps him from hearing us.”

“That’s too bad,” Mumu said. The disappointment wafting from her looked like a haze to our spirit eyes. “I was hoping to ask him for proof of his treasure. An early payment would be a gesture of good faith.”

“All is not lost,” we said. “There may be something we can yet do.”

When we had found her ghost, Biaka was lost in her memories, despair, and regret—the emanations of which we were able to sense through our spirit eyes. Even though we weren’t able to communicate through speech or sign language, we had still been able to understand what had happened to her: the context around her death, her feelings about her family, and her reluctance to die.

Bindeise was more contained than Biaka, his spirit more tightly guarded, but what would happen if we applied our will and opened our spirit eyes wider? There was a curious sensation—the feeling of tipping over, of falling toward him. We became overwhelmed by a smoldering anger. There was anguish too, suffused with loss, as well as rage at the world and the monsters within it.

The world was suffering, and the only way to survive was through stubbornness: living in spite of everything in order to spite everything. That was gone now, though, taken away by murder. His murder. And it was for no reason other than he’d awoken in the midst of a storm and heard two men arguing in his yard. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and Bindeise had gone to peek outside—

We felt ourselves being held upright. A strong sense of concern, so very different than the ghost’s emotions flowed through the points of connection. “Little Eight, are you well?” Mumu asked. “What exactly are you doing?”

“A test,” we managed to say. “An experiment.” But that last word had been in English. For understanding, Mumu needed the words in Diaksh: “A trial.”

“And was this trial successful?”

We nodded. “Bindeise awoke one night to an argument between two people in his yard. There was lightning—”

The ghost’s emotions swirled suddenly, like a whirlpool sucking us in. There’d been lightning in the sky from the storm, but also in the yard because of… Grunthen; he was threatening someone in a dark, hooded cloak.

Dismay—Bindeise had been filled with it. Alarm and shock too. The point of living away from people had been to avoid the trouble that came with them. And Grunthen was the worst kind of people—someone who thought that because he had a bit of power, he was immune to despair.

Ah! Grunthen learned to despair that night. He’d turned away from the argument and was stabbed in the back. The hooded person fled, and Bindeise had too—in alarm, in terror—running for where he’d hidden his savings and intending to retreat to Voorhei.

As much as the villagers disgusted him, they needed to know tha—pain. There’d been a sharp pain in his back, and then everything had gone dark. Death. It was his death, and only his anguish, smoldering anger, and desire for vengeance remained.

Bindeise ridiculed himself. He had hated the world, but now he wanted to be a part of it again, if only to get revenge. His anger would be satiated. His hunger for revenge… he reached toward me, but Tenna’s Gift lit up; the barrier was thin, so thin, but it held.

We—I pulled away and crashed back into myself. If Mumu hadn’t been holding onto me, I would’ve fallen.

“You’re starting to concern me,” she said.

“I’m concerning myself.” I rubbed my face and did my best to clear away the remnants of Bindeise’s thoughts and feelings. My feet weren’t entirely steady, so I leaned against the nearby longhouse wall.

The hunger is getting to him; he seems to be close to losing control. Not quite yet, although that was definitely a lapse at the end. I’m going to have to be careful with him. I took a deep breath. Or I could also just drop this investigation. Not every problem has to be mine to solve. Except, I was uniquely suited to solve this one. As far as I knew, no one else in the village could communicate with ghosts like I was able to.

There was also Tenna’s Gift to protect me, not to mention the spiritual defenses my family had helped me set up. Maybe if I don’t delve so deeply next time? If I have to, I can also push him away, or worst case banish him. I nodded to myself. Let’s keep going. It’ll be good to help the dead, and I won’t turn away any treasure found along the way.

It also looks like Tenna’s Gift and my ability to sense the thoughts and emotions of the dead can coexist, after all. I quickly merged with the uekisheile—we joined for the briefest moment and looked at the gift’s barrier. It was steadily thickening now that we weren’t actively trying to sense past it. We split, and I thought, That’s confirmation, then. Or at least a first pass at evidence that the Deer God and Tenna’s gifts are somehow accommodating each other. That’s a relief.

Mumu had been watching me intently. “So? You’ve discovered something.”

“Grunthen,” I said. “He was in Bindeise’s yard arguing with someone in a cloak. I don’t know who—the ghost didn’t see his face.”

“Grunthen!” Mumu’s face turned excited. “He’s alive!”

I shook my head grimly. “He was stabbed in the back by the person he’d been arguing with. And then when Bindeise fled the scene, the murderer either ambushed him or followed after him, because they stabbed him too.”

Mumu’s face fell. “Dead for sure, then. Grunthen is gone.”

“I’m afraid so. Sorry.”

“The world is the world,” Mumu said. “We can only bear our own portion of it. Grunthen’s death is not yours to carry.”

“Still, I know how much he and Woldec meant to the village.”

“For there to have been an argument, Grunthen must’ve known his killer,” Mumu said.

“And why meet at Bindeise’s place?” I couldn’t help but think it was a strange place to arrange a rendezvous.

“Ah, I can explain,” Mumu said. “Bindeise’s was one of the few safe places outside the village. Our teams have sometimes used it as a fallback if something goes wrong with a hunt.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “After all, we know Woldec and Grunthen’s expedition met with disaster. He must’ve gone there, encountered the hooded person, and they argued.”

Mumu frowned. “This hooded person must’ve been the one to use the cleansing fire, probably hoping the lodge would assume Grunthen died along with Woldec and the rest.”

“All plausible,” I said.

“Who do you think did it?” Mumu asked.

“I should ask you that. You know the people in the village much better than I do.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “I can’t believe anyone of Voorhei would kill Grunthen.”

“Well,” I said, “given the argument between him and his killer, the motive was likely fear, greed, hate, or rage. Those are usually the reasons people lash out against others. Hmm… love too, if a person thinks they’re protecting someone.”

“Grunthen bragged more than he threatened,” Mumu said. “He was disliked, but not hated—he was too important to the village’s safety for that.”

“It bothers me that Grunthen survived when Woldec and the others didn’t. What if he ran away from the fight?” I asked. “Or maybe he made a deal with someone to betray Woldec in order to claim the… the thing they were searching for, for himself. And then Grunthen was in turn betrayed.”

“Grunthen would never betray the lodge.” Mumu closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “But I can see him running away. He had power but was not brave-hearted. And if he truly did run away, then Ghitha would’ve been furious with him. Ghitha would’ve struck out if he could, but he is no hunter. He wouldn’t have been able to kill Grunthen.”

“Even if it was by surprise?” I asked.

“Grunthen would’ve heard him approach.” Mumu shook her head. “You don’t know this, but Ghitha was barred from joining the Hunter’s Lodge—not by the lodge but by his parents. They were incensed that he didn’t inherit the Lightning-Touched talent like his brother, and so they forced him into the Way of the Merchant. They bragged that if he couldn’t hunt, he’d at least be of use to the family. Ghitha’s skills are all related to trade.”

“And now there are no hunters left in their family,” I said.

“That’s right. Only Ghitha’s left. It’s a tragedy for both him and the village.”

“And so financially—”

“Ghitha is wealthy, or he should be. How else can he afford to sponsor the hunters from Albei? The team couldn’t have been cheap.” Mumu sighed. “Each must be getting several antaak for the hunt of the kalihchi bear.”

“Can he afford that?” I asked.

“He must be able to,” Mumu said. “Whatever Ghitha is, he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t spend taak he couldn’t afford.”

“Not unless he expected to gain something of even more value,” I said.

“You can’t eat vengeance,” Mumu said, frowning.

That was true, but what if he thought he could get vengeance and a room full of eilesheile? Wouldn’t that tempt the man?

“Supposedly, Kiertie had a knack for finding treasure,” I said. That was the sense I’d gotten from her daughter’s ghost. “It was the inspiration for Woldec’s expedition.”

“I’d heard that about Kiertie,” Mumu said, “but Borba would know for certain. His family was originally Voorhoos, where she came from.”

“Then I’ll seek him out tomorrow before I leave for the Glen.”

“You’re really leaving again?” Mumu asked.

“Ikfael’s Glen has become my home,” I said.

“And this,” Mumu said, gesturing to the quiet village around us. “Can’t it become your home?”

I thought about the question, giving it the consideration it was due. “Maybe. I expect there’ll come a day when both the Glen and Voorhei are home.”

“That’s well, then.” Mumu smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. “Come, Little Pot. Let’s go. The day’s been long, and we’re both due a rest.”

Well, that was a truth if I’d ever heard one.

21

A Weapon at the Ready

The next morning, I arrived early at the Hunter’s Lodge, but Inleio was at his desk instead of training someone. He must’ve seen the disappointment on my face.

“The day after a hunt is a good day to rest,” he said, “but it’s also good to be young and hungry.” He grabbed his spear, and we headed out back.

Inleio was right about the need to recover, so we took it easy. The exercise was more intellectual than physical: moving through the forms slowly and asking questions along the way.

The depth of his knowledge astounded me, but then, he’d been a hunter for a long time. He survived over fifty Long Darks and twelve hundred organized hunts. And there was no counting how much time he’d spent in the woods to provide for his family and the village.

Inleio was a man who tackled the tasks given to him with humility, dedication, and passion. I respected that. People like him were gold. I’d run into a few in my previous life—carpenters, film makers, chefs, and even a couple of baristas. They didn’t always show up in the most obvious places, but I counted myself blessed when they did. Honestly, some days I was just grateful for practical competence.

Inleio was more than competent. The spear was part of his heart, and it would have been foolish not to learn as much as I could from him.

Over the next couple of hours, hunters rolled through the lodge. Some came to care for their equipment, others to sit in the morning sun and gossip about the previous day’s events. A few even helped with the training, to show how they’d adapted the spear forms for their own use.

I listened to them too. Everyone had something to teach. Their way of doing things may not have been a perfect fit for me, but I almost always learned something—even if it was only the realization that their way was not my way.

Eventually, Inleio had to go back to his tallies, so I ran errands around the lodge until Mumu and Tegen showed up. Tegen was there to supervise me butchering the blynx. Mumu had come along because she was bored.

Tegen rolled his eyes at that.

Anyway, what followed was a careful dissection of the blynx’s body. I examined every organ and every bone. The teeth and the claws. The places where the dantians were, as well as the collapsed meridians.

Fortunately, my teammates found it amusing, humoring my attempt to learn how the blynx teleport worked. Apparently, it was something every apprentice with an affinity for qi or mana did. Not necessarily with the blynx, but there was always some animal with an ability that caught a hunter’s eye.

The lodge encouraged it, especially since the first qi and mana spells had come from these kinds of efforts.

“So there’s no Blink spell in the lodge’s library?” I asked.

Tegen sighed. “If only there were. Such a spell would have great utility. Alas, advanced spells can require both qi and mana—body power too, especially in animals. That’s why it’s often impossible to work out how they use their abilities. The interaction between the energies is too complicated to perceive and understand.”

“I have faith in our Little Pot of Questions,” Mumu said. “His spirit eyes may provide a clue that others missed.”

“We can hope,” Tegen said.

Unfortunately, my spirit eyes didn’t reveal the blynx’s secrets. The only thing I saw was a ghost dog in the corner by Inleio’s desk lolling on his back. He was massive, with a head the size of a piñata and a big, beefy chest and haunches.

Putting him out of my head, I went back to dissecting the blynx. The plan was to take the bones back to the Glen for further study.

I was scraping the last of the meat off the blynx’s skull when Borba arrived. Mumu waved him over, and the two of them chatted. Both were team leaders, and they all planned to meet later in the day to share what they’d collectively learned during the hunt.

Borba and Mumu got a head start. According to Borba, the wolves southwest of Voorhei were attempting to expand their territory, but a herd of musk oxen had fought them off, squeezing the pack between them and the kalihchi bear’s territory. My team hadn’t seen evidence of the wolves, but perhaps we hadn’t traveled far enough in that direction.

It was all interesting information—until the conversation turned into the equivalent of a hunter blooper reel. One of Borba’s teammates had slipped while avoiding an ox’s charge and fallen headfirst into a pile of scat. That had them both snickering.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your fun,” I said, “but I have a question.”

That caused them to laugh again.

“Of course you do,” Borba said with a smile. “What is it?”

“It’s about Kiertie of Voorhoos. I heard that she had a knack for finding treasure, and that you might know more about it.”

Borba’s smile faded. “Kiertie, well—” He cleared his throat. “She thought herself above me. In truth, her whole family did. A talent for divination runs through her line, you see, and her family is somewhat famous.”

“So she didn’t mention to you what she was after?” I asked.

“No. No one knows,” Borba said. “She and Woldec kept it secret. Several of us offered to help—we begged to come along, because we knew how dangerous the King of the Forest could be—but they wanted to keep the treasure in the family, bringing only Grunthen in case they couldn’t avoid the bear.” He shook his head. “Woldec was stubborn, just like Kiertie. Once they seized an idea, it stuck in their heads and there was no moving it.”

“Could she see the future, then?” I asked.

“Kiertie’s great grandmother could,” Borba said, “but talents aren’t inherited whole. For example, I am Hard-Working, but my son is Diligent and my daughter has Perseverance. Kiertie, she didn’t have Future Sight. If she had, she’d still be alive.”

If I remembered it right, Kiertie’s exact talent was Dog Nose. At the time, I thought maybe she had an excellent sense of smell, but perhaps the name was meant to be more metaphorical: she had a talent for finding things.

So, Kiertie was Proud and Comely. She had come to Voorhei in search of treasure and found her match in Woldec. The two of them made an ambitious pair, and along with Ghitha’s help, they’d seen a potential fortune within their grasp.

“Did anyone else know their plan?” I asked.

My question caught Borba woolgathering. He’d been gazing down at his hands, lost in thought. “Everyone knew what they’d intended,” he said, looking up. “Grunthen had made sure of that, but he didn’t say exactly what they’d sought. He just bragged about how rich he’d be.”

I shook my head, frustrated. The information provided helpful context, but I was still no closer to finding out the identity of Bindeise’s killer. If only I could somehow reach Grunthen’s ghost.

I had lunch with the kids and Bihei, but with no tears or drama this time around. They knew I was coming back, although my next visit would be in two weeks. I got special dispensation from Inleio, since there was a delegation to visit Ikfael scheduled. My next obligation to the lodge would be met by me facilitating their visit. There was a lot to do between now and then, so I set out immediately after the meal.

It was another hot and humid day, and I looked forward to getting under the forest’s canopy. That wasn't something I’d ever expected, but I was becoming accustomed to this world and its dangers. Between the uekisheile and the skills I was training with the Hunter’s Lodge, I felt capable of handling the forest’s everyday dangers.

I’d just reached the base of the hills leading up to the Glen, when I caught the flicker of something out of the corner of my eye. I jumped forward and spun around, spear at the ready.

I scanned the woods, yet didn’t see anything. I sniffed the air, and the scents of pine, oak, and musty earth filled my nose. The ambient qi was full of life, ordinary.

The birds in the trees took to the air in a flutter of wings. The cicadas quieted, then resumed their chirping after a few breaths. The wind stirred through the boughs, but nothing else moved.

Had it been my imagination? I couldn’t take that chance, and let the uekisheile sprout their tendrils across my scalp and the back of my neck where they’d be hidden from view. We joined through the land and kept vigilant for anything on our backtrail.

Halfway home, we caught sight of a spirit following us. No, not a spirit, something living. The bushes moved when it ducked out of view. Whatever it was, we couldn’t penetrate its Stealth or Camouflage, and it was too far to sense its qi.

We held our spear tight and wiped the sweat beading across our brow. We were alert, ready to increase the flow of qi through our Dog’s Agility. The worry was that it was another blynx.

We held steady, though. The uekisheile’s mental processes weren’t as easily distracted as Ollie/Eight. Though our body pumped adrenaline into our bloodstream, we remained focused.

The creature attempted to hide, but its… her spirit was visible, and we caught sight of her moving behind a cedar tree downhill from us. We pretended to be unaware, and instead let ourselves be hidden by the land. She wanted to ambush us? Well, we could ambush her instead.

To our right was a collection of large ferns. Mindful of not leaving any tracks, we slipped between the fronds and made ourselves small. We pulled in our qi, so as not to disturb the living world around us. We breathed along with the green things and made our thoughts like dirt.

Time passed, but time was nothing. We’d lived countless cycles of day and night, ourselves alone. Waiting here, in the conjoining of our consciousnesses, was a blessing worth any danger.

The figure moved from behind the cedar tree and cautiously made her way uphill. Again, our eyes saw nothing physical, and even her qi was muted. She, however, couldn’t hide her spirit in the shape of a human woman. She moved like a hunter, and in a flash it came to us that she was Otwei, one of the hunters from Albei.

Why was Otwei following us? Ollie/Eight was good at stories, and his consciousness generated several: to scout the way to Ikfael’s Glen, to learn the secret of the Healing Water spell, to follow us to where Woldec’s body rested, or to see if we knew where the Red Room was. Endless stories spilled from that portion of our combined mind.

Normally, we delighted in stories, but these were alarming. Could any of them be true? And if so, what should we do about them? No easy answer sprang to mind. One thing we understood, however: if Otwei meant well, why would she hide?

She walked past us, her Camouflage useless against our spirit eyes. That, at least, was pleasing, and pointed to an advantage against any creature that tried to hide from us.

Otwei returned after ten minutes and examined the last tracks we’d left. She headed off in another direction, but came back. She found another direction, and came back yet again.

The fourth time, she dropped her Camouflage spell and said something foul. We were delighted by her frustration.

Unfortunately, Otwei possessed a map with directions to the Glen. She made her way there on her own and found a sheltered spot from which to watch.

We, in turn, watched her, debating what we should do. Her spirit was relaxed and easy. At first she was curious, looking at the Glen and the things we’d left behind, but soon she became bored, waiting for our arrival.

There was no scent of violence emanating from her. Unless killing was as easy for her as breathing, we did not expect her to intend us harm.

Given that, we decided not to kill her, which put the portion of us that was Ollie/Eight at ease. The prospect of killing another human being was disturbing to them… him. He had done it before, but that had been because there were children involved.

We let go of the land, and I leaned against a—huh… I didn’t realize there was a bay tree near the Glen. I leaned against the trunk of a bay tree and wondered at how close we—how close I’d come to attacking Otwei based on a handful of suppositions.

Still, the uekisheile had listened to my concerns while we were joined together. We’d made the right decision as far as I was concerned. I’d just have to make sure that continued.

A deep breath later, I walked into the Glen as if everything was normal. I surreptitiously looked around for Ikfael, but she was nowhere to be found. She likely already knew about our uninvited guest, but I thought I’d at least give her the details.

I walked into the cave, and once I was shielded by the waterfall, she appeared out of the water.

“Don’t tell me you adopted another one?” Ikfael signed.

“No, this one isn’t mine. She followed me here. I’m not exactly sure why, though. She could have several reasons.” And so I explained the situation, including the fact that the upcoming visit at the solstice would be different than usual.

Typically, the villagers visited Ikfael and brought an offering in gratitude for the clean water provided downstream. They’d place fruit, vegetables, and fish beside the pool, say some words, and then leave.

This time around, Sheedi wanted to ask permission to establish a shrine at the Glen, which would make a bigger deal of the relationship between the village and the spirit. Then there was also the healing spell, of special interest to the Hunter’s Lodge. And finally, Ghitha was coming to pick up the remains of his family, and he’d be bringing the Albei hunters with him.

Ikfael glared at me. “None of this would’ve happened without you.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend any of it. Luckily, it’s only one day. The hunters will leave as soon as they hear your answer, and Ghitha as soon as he gets his family’s remains. I don’t know what you want to do about the shrine, though.”

Judging from her eyes, I could see that Ikfael was torn. The shrine would likely be a point of pride, and I was sure the offerings would be attractive, but she was protective of the Glen’s peace. Very protective.

“I don’t know,” she said, the signs hesitant. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay, then what should we do about our guest?” I pointed to where Otwei had hidden herself.

“If she doesn’t leave with the others on the day of the solstice, we get rid of her.”

“Ah, isn’t that… extreme?” I asked.

Ikfael shook her head, her eyes hard. “No one but the invited may stay that evening. I’ve vowed it so. You’ll see why.”

“This is the good thing you mentioned the other day, when I made the donuts?”

“It may be a good thing, or it may not. We won’t know until then.”

The uekisheile grew more and more unhappy with Otwei’s presence. She was a fly in the ointment of our pleasant days, a niggling thought always present in our mind. The distraction interfered with our study of the blynx’s bones. Everything we did was observed, and we had to always be careful not to show what we wanted to keep hidden.

Two days later, the uekisheile asked for permission to sneak a piece of themselves above Otwei, as a kind of Sword of Damocles. They’d keep hidden, at one with the land, unless Otwei did something dangerous, at which point they’d drop and invade her meridians. Well, I didn’t much care for Otwei’s behavior either, and it would be good to have some insurance, so I agreed.

That evening, the uekisheile let me know that Otwei was asleep. It was the perfect opportunity to sneak away to get the bodies of Woldec and family ready for transport, so we slipped out of the Glen unnoticed.

At the boundary of Ikfael’s territory, we hesitated and looked back toward the Glen. A thought had arisen and hovered between our joined minds: that we could enter Otwei’s meridians while she slept. To go unnoticed was a skill we’d been practicing.

Safety. Insurance. Revenge. A trap, unsprung unless necessary. The thoughts swirled through us.

We were already prepared to invade her meridians if she behaved badly; doing so in advance allowed us to skip a step and simplified things so that nothing would keep us from intervening if necessary.

We weighed the dangers and the benefits, and also struggled with the ethics of invasion of privacy and integrity of being. We hesitated and hesitated. But the world was dangerous, and people were part of the world.

Heavens help us, we gave in to our suspicions and said yes.

The uekisheile above Otwei dropped, transformed into qi, and slipped quietly into the meridians closest to the skin. She tasted like tea steeped for too long, strong and bitter with tannins.

Her qi pumped slowly, sleepily along, and we followed it until we found her heart dantian. We made ourselves small and insignificant, a part of her land. There, we’d wait and watch.

My decision cast a shadow over a dark and chilly night. The work of moving Woldec and his family’s bodies was sweaty and hard. The parts I’d expected to be difficult were difficult, especially the narrow and twisted tunnels. It was an exercise in frustration and perseverance. The only grace was that the bags were sturdy, and not one tore or ripped. What a horror that would’ve been—me dragging a bag behind me while it leaked putrefied corpse juice.

The work took all night, but eventually the bagged bodies rested at the top of the natural spiral near the Lion’s Cave and were ready to be transported the rest of the way. The plan was for me to come get them the night before the solstice, so that they wouldn’t sit decomposing in the Glen.

I’d hoped that my thoughts would be occupied while I worked, but I found them circling the decision about Otwei. My intuition told me not to trust the hunters from Albei, and if they were going to have me watched, then turnabout was fair play. It was just that our version of watching involved the literal invasion of a person’s body.

No matter how I considered it, the decision made me uneasy. Responding to a wrong with another wrong was never right. The thing that had tipped the scales, though, was her Poisoner talent. I’d already suspected her of using her Decoy talent on us. What was to stop her from using poison?

The fact was, while the people of Voorhei treated me well and I’d quickly formed friendships with many of them, I still didn’t know a whole lot about how people treated each other in this world. How common was it for people to hurt others for material gain? I knew of one murder already.

All the way back to the Glen, I considered and reconsidered what to do, but in the end I let the decision stand. Hopefully, Otwei wouldn’t do anything stupid, but if she did, we had a weapon at the ready.

22

A Spy at the Glen

Not caring to demonstrate my skills in front of someone who might later use the knowledge against me, I planned to spend the next few days with the uekisheile hidden by the waterfall. We needed to study the blynx’s bones anyway, so the time would be useful.

Otwei’s presence in the Glen remained a barb under my skin, but then I had a barb under hers as well. Only, she didn’t know it.

After half a day, she grew bored—so incredibly, out-of-her-skull numb with boredom—and decided to enter the Glen directly to look around. The uekisheile within her alerted us, so we merged to watch her sneak among our things. We experienced the dizzying flow of qi that produced the Camouflage spell, as well as the mental constructs required for Scentless Hunter.

Observing her casting her spells was a revelation.

First, the flow of qi for Camouflage was dramatically different from Dog’s Agility, seemingly much more chaotic and influencing a much wider range of the body. Scentless Hunter was harder to pick up, since our ability to read thoughts depended on qi as an intermediary. Still, we glimpsed flashes of images, enough to know that the spell depended on nature mana and runes built from a sequence of loops.

We were hungry to learn. The impulse drove us, and our recent experiences had only whet our appetite for more. While Ollie/Eight had doubts about the rightness of spying on Otwei, there was no denying it was an incredible learning opportunity. Our presence within her had transformed Otwei from bane to boon.

The Hunter’s Lodge forbade its members from teaching spells. It didn’t matter who or why; the spells could only be earned. However, there was nothing to stop hunters from learning spells on their own. In fact, they were encouraged to experiment and find new ones—learning from the plants and animals they hunted.

This encouragement wasn’t meant to apply to people—we were taking advantage of a loophole—but we set Ollie/Eight’s guilt aside. Who knew when an opportunity like this would come again? We needed all the tools we could get to protect our new family.

Over the next several days, the uekisheile and I moved our attention back and forth between the blynx’s bones and Otwei, depending on whether she was using her spells or not. We learned:

The Blink spell was a complicated combination of processes operating at once, and it involved the blynx’s skull, sternum, and at least one other structure. Whether that structure was physical or not was unclear.

One of the patterns underlying the spell felt familiar to the uekisheile and resembled the transformation from their physical body to their qi body. The rest of the spell’s patterns were incomplete, though, and would require a great deal of extrapolation and trial and error to complete.

Otwei used both Camouflage and Scentless Hunter when tracking me during the few times I left to fish or take care of business. I didn’t much care for her watching me squat in the woods, but she paid for it each time—even if she didn’t know it. With each cast of her spells, the uekisheile observed the flow of qi and the mental gymnastics required to cast her spells.

Her qi capacity was about half of mine; my qi was also more concentrated than hers.

Moving slowly, Otwei could maintain both Camouflage and Scentless Hunter for approximately fifteen to twenty minutes. Moving quickly, the spells only lasted two minutes before she ran out of qi and mana.

With the uekisheile’s help, I was able to cast a crude version of Camouflage almost immediately. Seeing the flow of qi in another person was hugely instructive.

It took us longer to learn Scentless Hunter—and I don’t know if we would’ve gotten it on our own—but as the days drew out, Otwei partially eased her boredom by practicing her skills. That included sketching the runes required for Scentless Hunter in the dirt as a test of her memory.

For me, when I experimented with Camouflage, I learned that it lasted almost forty-five minutes when sitting still. While doing calisthenics, the spell lasted nine minutes. That was relying on my qi capacity alone. If the uekisheile contributed their qi, we could extend the spell’s duration even longer.

As for Scentless Hunter, it lasted only twenty-five minutes and five minutes respectively due to me having less mana to work with.

Another disappointment was that Camouflage only extended to my skin. My clothes weren’t covered by the spell. That would come later as my and the uekisheile’s skill with the spell improved. I had learned that at the Hunter’s Lodge, talking with Inleio about qi-magic in general.

Almost a whole week passed, lost in an intense, qi-and-mana-soaked blur of studying and training. The days ran together and the nights too, as I gave the uekisheile permission to focus my dreams on training the new spells.

The day before the solstice, Ikfael rousted me from my experiments with a smack to the back of the head. The Glen needed to be cleaned up for visitors, and she wanted to stay out of Otwei’s sight, which meant the work fell on me to return the Glen to a pristine state. That in turn finally gave Otwei something to watch.

I made a broom from a stripped branch, a collection of twigs, and a length of rope. The construction wasn’t the best, but I could sweep the ground with it well enough. The only exceptions to the Glen’s scouring were the walls the kids and I had assembled inside the cave. Those would’ve been too much work to take down and put back up again, and Ikfael grudgingly gave permission for them to stay. I also stored the cookware and tools in the cave, as well as the various projects I had left half-finished.

Then, that night, under cover of darkness, I became one with the land and joined with the uekisheile. We put our new spells to use—Camouflage and Scentless Hunter—along with the land and every bit of understanding of the Stealth skill we’d gathered, then snuck out of the Glen.

Naked as a jaybird, we went north at first, just in case she spotted us. We had stashed a bundle of clothes and gear there—making it look like part of cleaning up the Glen—and we paused in our dressing to check on the portion of us inside Otwei.

There was only this evening and tomorrow morning left to retrieve the bodies, and she was alert and watching carefully. Her qi was flavored with relief that her time in the Glen was almost finished, and she also felt disdain for the boy who never left his cave and anger for making her wait.

Well, she’d wait even longer. We blew a silent raspberry in her direction and slipped through the night toward the Lion’s Cave.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Because of the bags, I was able to bring the bodies out two at a time on the travois. The only challenge was the narrow path from the entrance of the Lion’s Cave up to the top of the escarpment. Slow, methodical care was the answer, and over the course of the next few hours I made three trips between the Glen and the escarpment. Two trips to retrieve the bodies of Woldec and his family, and one to retrieve the bandit equipment I’d hidden away.

Back near the Glen, I undressed and slipped back into my home cave, only to re-dress and walk boldly to where I’d left the bodies and gear. It was almost 3:00 AM, but Otwei was still awake and alert. She, of course, followed me, but all she saw was me walking a hundred yards north of the Glen, putting on the harness for the travois, and transporting a handful of bags to the Glen for safe, overnight storage.

I could only imagine Otwei’s rage. No, I could do more than that, couldn’t I? Merging with the uekisheile, we peeked and found…

Fury. Her qi was awash with the emotion. She’d thoroughly searched the Glen and its surroundings, but had somehow managed to miss the simply camouflaged bags nearby. How was that even possible? If she’d only found them earlier, then she wouldn’t have had to waste a week waiting in the woods. And there was no sign of the bloody treasure, the eilesheile.

The intention to scream arose, but she squashed it, along with the rage that had been building. She compressed the feeling down, so that it didn’t blind her. The emotion didn’t die though, only smoldered, a marble of resentment.

The next morning, I recovered from the exertions of the night before, napping on and off in the cave while Ikfael sat nearby and the uekisheile kept an eye on Otwei. Neither of the two non-humans needed to sleep, which was a real blessing to someone who needed to rest and couldn’t always keep watch for predators.

Ikfael fidgeted like a kid on Christmas day, anxiously awaiting the moment when she’d be allowed to open her presents. I mean, she tried to play it cool, but I saw how her ears swiveled.

As for Otwei, she stewed in her miserable anger the whole time. The uekisheile was rather smug about it, and… well, so was I. Even though I continued to be uneasy about the situation, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. Mischief well managed was just so satisfying.

Around noon, Ikfael turned to stare toward the Glen’s eastern boundary. I figured our guests must’ve arrived, so I picked myself up and dusted off my pants. They were a pair that I’d purchased from Bihei. I wore one of her shirts too.

As I headed out, Ikfael gave me a hard stare. “Don’t embarrass me,” she signed.

I just shook my head and walked out from behind the waterfall into the Glen. She wasn’t very honest with her feelings, our Ikfael. She’d made a big deal about being annoyed by the extra visitors this year, but looking at her now I saw how she was clearly the one who anticipated this visit the most.

Mumu popped out of the woods first, scouting ahead of the team like she usually did. She gave a friendly wave and looked around the Glen. It was spotless.

“How goes it, Eight? Everything all right?”

“Mostly,” I said. “Ikfael is ready, but there’s something I want to talk to you about later. Save some time for me, okay?”

She laughed. “What? More questions?”

I shook my head. “No, I want to report on something, but it’ll have to wait.”

Tegen opened the path for Sheedi to walk through, followed by Inleio, Teila, and Haol. Then it was Ghitha and his band of merry adventurers: Banan, Kuros, Agath, and Moon. And…. just out of the corner of my eye: Otwei melted out of the woods behind them. I didn’t miss her meaningful glance toward Banan. It said, “We need to talk.”

They’d have to wait too, because Sheedi took charge straight away. She placed a gray-and-blue-striped blanket at the edge of the pool, and had everyone empty their backpacks onto it.

Berries, fava beans, peppers, squash, eggs, milk, acorn flour, corn meal, bags of salt and maple sugar, smoked salmon and trout, venison jerky, a silver knife, and a gold spoon—the goods piled up high, and I could only imagine how wide our dear otter’s eyes were bugging out at that moment.

In years past, the village’s offering had consisted of enough food to last a week, but this was at least thirty days’ worth, not to mention the metal goods. The world speaker had taken my advice seriously and made her best effort to bribe her way into Ikfael’s heart.

That wasn’t enough, though. Oh no, not for Sheedi. She knelt to arrange the offerings into an order that pleased the eye: the food on one side with every berry in its place, and metal on the other, the surfaces gleaming in the sun. And then she pulled a bag from her belt and spilled large silver coins onto the blanket, at least a dozen eltaak.

Once she was sure everyone else was kneeling behind her, including me, she spoke: “We come in gratitude. The clean water of Ikfael sustains our village; it nourishes our people, our crops, and our animals. Without Ikfael, Voorhei would not be the village that it is, and we apologize for how long it has taken us to realize this.” She bowed with her hands over her heart.

The rest of us bowed at the same time, and we stayed that way until we heard the sound of water rising from the pool.

Ikfael hadn’t told me what would happen. She’d wanted the ceremony to be a surprise. Mostly, I think she wanted me to be impressed, and I was. A ten-foot-tall otter made of water rose from the pool. The figure was dignified and had the bearing of a wise elder. Her head nodded, graciously accepting the offering presented by the village.

“Your beneficence knows no bounds. As does our gratitude,” Sheedi said. “That is why we also wish to build you a shrine, a place for us to make more frequent offerings. You are a blessing to Voorhei, and we wish for you to be treated as one.”

Ikfael’s avatar gestured, prompting Sheedi to explain her proposition.

“We ask for permission to place a small, fortified building, out of the pool’s view but within the boundaries of this Glen. It will be built by the finest artisans, the work carved with images of you. We do not wish it to be an eyesore to this beautiful place, and the shrine will fit the land it is meant to honor.”

Ikfael motioned for Sheedi to continue.

Oh Ikfael, I thought. She was hooked. I could tell from the way the water statue’s borders blurred. She’s so excited.

Well, Sheedi’s plan wouldn’t be bad for the Glen. Her goal was simply the prestige of having a shrine near Voorhei, which she could then use as leverage for more influence with the world speakers in the surrounding villages.

As for a shrine attendant, that’d be me. I had Ikfael’s Blessing and was already living here. Sheedi even offered compensation: an eltaak every week for cleaning the shrine and carrying offerings between Voorhei and the Glen. It was a win-win as far as I was concerned.

Eventually, Ikfael’s avatar sighed, as if to say, “Well, if you must.” Then she nodded, giving permission for the shrine to be built.

Sheedi bowed again, as did the crowd. A moment later, she shuffled back, and I could see a triumphant smile on her face. Then Inleio went forward, bringing with him a seven-foot-long pole wrapped in cloth.

“I honor Ikfael. I am known as Inneioleia, and I come to ask for a boon for the Hunter’s Lodge of Voorhei. Your blessed, Eight, has demonstrated to us a healing spell of your teaching, and I ask for the same grace for our lodge. The woods are forever dangerous, but with your protection our hunters can walk the Path to Perfection more safely.”

Inleio paused to unwrap the cloth to reveal a spear. The wood was dark, like ebony, and the spearhead glinted silver gray. The light gathered all along the haft and danced. Kuros, kneeling nearby, let out a gasp.

“I offer my heart in exchange; this spear, named Bearbane, was made by my grandfather and fed the silverlight of a hundred bears. I offer it in exchange for the protection of my people. Please allow Eight to teach us the healing spell.”

Ikfael’s avatar froze, the moment lasting long enough for the congregation to get antsy and wonder if Inleio had somehow offended the spirit. I just shook my head. No doubt the hidden otter was lost gazing at the beautiful weapon, saliva dripping from her mouth.

The water avatar shuddered into motion. With a gesture, a pseudopod of water rose from the pool and grabbed the spear to pull it in, likely before Inleio could change his mind. Then the avatar started to fall apart, only remembering to nod to the lodge master at the end.

Inleio turned to Sheedi, confused. “Was that a yes? Did she give her permission?”

Sheedi, in turn, looked at me.

“Yes, Ikfael gave her permission. I’ll teach you the spell.”

Inleio smiled, but it somehow felt hollow. As he replied to me, I noticed how his eyes glanced toward the water, to where the spear had disappeared. “We have done a good thing today. You should be proud, Eight. So many of our brothers and sisters will live thanks to this spell.”

We weren’t quite done, though. Ghitha stood up and gestured for the Albei hunters to rise as well. “I believe it is now time for me to receive my family’s remains.”

“Yes, of course. Just a moment.” I ran inside the cave and carefully brought out each bag. They’d gotten a little squishy thanks to being jostled during the move, but there weren’t any leaks.

Ghitha held a cloth to his nose, but he seemed genuinely grateful to receive the bags. His eyes were shining. “I thank you. You have fulfilled your part, so I will buy the goods you have to sell. My people—” He looked over to where Otwei whispered into Banan’s ear. The frown on Banan’s face must’ve worried him, because he abruptly stopped mid-speech and left to go talk to them.

Well, if he could consult with his allies, so could I. I waved Mumu over and filled her in on Otwei’s presence in the Glen. I didn’t mention anything about stealing her spells, but I did let her know about the Albei team’s interest in finding Woldec’s treasure.

Mumu stared at me long and hard. “Your little nose has a knack for finding things. Do you know where this treasure is?”

I didn’t mind lies of omission, but I didn’t want to actively lie to Mumu. So, I just kept quiet.

“Fifty-fifty,” she said, “and I’ll help you.”

I raised my eyebrows at her.

“All right, we’ll skip the haggling and go straight to seventy-thirty.”

I started to walk away.

“Damn you, Little Pot. Eighty-twenty, and you’d better accept. If Grunthen was telling even half the truth, the treasure is worth a dangerous amount of taak. You need me.”

Did I? I wasn’t sure, though it’d be good to have another person to watch my back—someone who knew how this society operated. And we were already working together.

“We have a deal,” I said.

Mumu laughed and roughly rubbed my head. “Bindeise’s treasure and this? We’re going to be so rich.”

I smiled back, while across the Glen, Ghitha and his hired hunters scowled at each other.

23

An Unexpected Gift

Sheedi toured the area to look for a good place for the shrine. I followed along and steered her away from anything too close by. Those had been Ikfael’s instructions to me prior to the villagers’ arrival: the shrine shouldn’t look onto the pool or cause any disturbance for those living around it.

We settled on a spot just above the deer thicket. The idea was that the structure would be a fortified building with a small hall for a statue of Ikfael and a handful of rooms for the caretaker and visitors. Tucking the shrine into the hillside would allow the artisans to dig for additional living and storage spaces later, if needed.

Fortifying the building wasn’t exactly necessary, but Sheedi was no doubt thinking about my safety. I wasn’t going to complain, either. Right now, the Lion’s Cave was my fallback if anything disastrous happened at the Glen, but it wouldn’t hurt to have another. Maybe I can convince Sheedi to include a secret tunnel as an emergency exit?

The Glen’s guests didn’t stay much longer—just enough time to enjoy the cool air around the pool—before heading back to Voorhei. Only when they’d gone completely did Ikfael pop out of the water to survey the offerings left for her. The otter’s eyes shone.

“What about Otwei?” I asked.

“Gone with the rest,” she signed, dismissing the hunter with a flick of her paw. “More importantly, what should I eat now and what should I save for later? Oh, this spoon is made of gold—”

I shook my head and went to find a shady spot to sit. I’d already stored the money I’d earned from Ghitha safely away. I’d count it again later, but first I had to slip into one with the land, merge with the uekisheile, and tune into the portion of ourselves inside Otwei.

She spoke: “The brat didn’t go anywhere. All he did was stay inside that cave of his for almost a week.”

A pause followed.

“There was no way for me to get behind the waterfall to look around. The only time he left was to retrieve the remains of your family, sir, and that was only for a moment or two. There must be some sort of storage, though. He surprised me when he brought out the war bow and brigandine to sell.”

Another pause.

“I don’t know. Maybe he or the Glen’s spirit have a magic to preserve food and keep away scavengers? There’s that healing spell, so we know they have some ability with mana.”

We were frustrated hearing only Otwei’s voice, so we carefully wriggled from the heart dantian up the main meridian in her throat and into her upper dantian. We found one of the smaller meridians that paralleled the cochlear nerve, connecting the inner ears with her brain, and spun a thin tendril between the fibers. We had experience integrating the uekisheile with Ollie/Eight’s body, and the process with Otwei wasn’t any different. If only the signals flowing through the optic nerves weren’t so hard to interpret. We would have loved to see what she was seeing. Progress was being made thanks to the Biology skill and having Ollie/Eight to study, but it was so slow.

“—and if he does know where the eilesheile is, then he’ll eventually go there.” The voice was male and straightforward. Probably Banan. “No one can resist the lure of taak.”

Otwei snorted. “That one could. You saw how he lived. He might as well be an animal.”

“Could we trade for the location? He was willing to exchange these goods.” This was another male voice—likely Kuros.

“I tried, but the little rat wasn’t willing to tell me.” That was Ghitha. We knew his voice well. “All he was willing to sell were some of my family’s things and the trash he’d scavenged from the forest.”

The anger inside Otwei flared, spurring her to speak. “Out in the forest, all by himself, who knows what could happen to him. We should teach him about its dangers.”

“Shhh! Don’t let the dolbecs hear you,” Kuros said. “They’re already suspicious about our good luck when hunting.”

Otwei sniffed. “If they want our taak, then they should do what we say.”

“Enough,” Banan said. “The dolbecs have their place—we gather the prey and they help us hunt it. Anything else is outside our agreement with them.”

“So what do we do, then?” Kuros asked.

“We hunt the kalihchi bear,” Banan said. “Once he’s dead, we’ll be able to search the forest safely for the cave entrance.”

“If only Woldec hadn’t been so secretive—” Kuros said.

There was the sound of a slap, and a thrill of surprise ran through Otwei, along with an underlayer of delight.

“Don’t speak of my brother,” Ghitha said, his voice stern. “You know nothing of his greatness. He was the village’s savior year after year, but Koda and Dwilla ignored his contributions. All of them, all the idiots of Voorhei, treated him like just another hunter. But he wasn’t. Woldec was Earth-Touched and at the cusp of Dawn. The future was his for the taking.”

“We apologize for speaking out of turn,” Banan said, his voice flat. “Woldec was a light that dimmed much too quickly. We can only hope to follow in his footsteps.”

“Yes, well,” Ghitha said after a pause. “I also apologize. My care for my brother overwhelmed me.”

“We will avenge him,” Banan said. “Already, two of the hunter teams in Voorhei have told me they will join us in going after the kalihchi bear, and I expect another in the next few days. With half the lodge at stake, that will force Inneioleia’s hand. He will have to commit the whole lodge or else risk crippling it.”

“Inneioleia is useless,” Ghitha said. “He should’ve been replaced years ago, but our village’s leadership is sentimental. Well, I’ll show them. With you on the hunt, I am confident the King of the Forest will die.”

“And the djiape we requested?” Banan asked.

“The weapons and their people will be transported two days prior to the hunt,” Ghitha said.

“What about the salaswar?” Banan asked.

“The elixirs were harder to arrange,” Ghitha said. “I had to promise the Alchemist’s Lodge a permanent discount in exchange. You’d best be grateful.”

“We are,” Banan said. “As long as we’re protected from the lightning qi, we’re sure we can kill the bear.”

“That was the role Grunthen was supposed to play,” Ghitha said, “yet he was even more useless than Inneioleia. A coward. A damned rat. A knife in the back. I should’ve killed him myself when I had the chance—”

“Easy now, sir,” Banan said. “You’ll disturb the forest.”

“Yes, yes,” Ghitha said. “I lost myself again. My apologies.”

The discussion tapered off after that; Ghitha grew quiet, while the hunters talked of their plans for the rest of the week.

Based on what the uekisheile and I had overheard, Ghitha knew Grunthen wasn’t killed by the bear. Did that mean he had a role in Grunthen’s death? From what Mumu had told me, that wasn’t likely, but it sure sounded like he wished he had.

All along, Ghitha had been my number one suspect. He was the one closest to the events leading up to the murders, and also the one with the most at stake. If I was being honest, I just didn’t want to believe that any of the hunters were murderers. They were all so helpful. Sure, there was probably a good deal of self-interest behind that help, but I still liked them both individually and as a group.

The hunters were plain-spoken people. They joked around, yet still took their work seriously. That was a potent combination for a man like me. The kids, Billisha and Aluali, had helped me find a place to belong. The hunters’ camaraderie did the same, and I was at ease among them.

What did Ghitha know that Bindeise’s ghost didn’t? And how did he know it? The answers to those questions would likely solve the puzzle of the murders.

As for Otwei, I’d have to watch her. She relished when other people suffered, and reading her intentions, it was clear to me she was ready and willing to make trouble. Not violence, not quite yet, but she was only a thin line away.

The Glen was once again spotlessly clean, the offerings from Voorhei carefully tucked away in Ikfael’s pocket. It was surreal watching all that stuff go into such a small space; I was totally envious. Why can’t I have an inventory system like that?

My own haul had been pretty good too: 39 eltaak for everything I’d found at the bandit camp, except I’d held back the knives—all of them—and the war ax. I was sure I’d find a use for them. The war bow and arrows, the brigandine, the zweihänder, and all the rest had been better off liquidated and turned into money, along with the bishkawi hides we had on hand. I also sold off the clothing and jewelry I’d found on Woldec and his family. Ghitha had held and gazed at them in his hands for a long time before proceeding with the sale.

Still, it was good to be flush with cash again. The money could be spent for new spells, proper cookware, iron tools for woodworking, or even real armor. Hmm… there’s also the option of using money for the silverlight tax due to the land knight. I’d just need to figure out the exchange rate.

Once the sun started to settle in for the evening, the escarpment to the west drew a blanket of shadow across the land. Ikfael had us kneel by the pool and wait. She instructed me to be silent. To quiet even my thoughts.

She’d promised something interesting tonight, something related to the Glen. Apparently, we weren’t alone in living here. An elder—her words—resided in the stone under the water and was the one who had originally created the spirit door at the bottom of the pool. I’d not seen any evidence of this elder, but Ikfael explained that she awoke from her meditations only once a year, on the summer solstice, to gaze at the stars.

So, I put my thoughts away—my questions about Bindeise’s murder, my worries about the hunt for the kalihchi bear, my wonderings about how the kids were doing, and even my curiosity about a being who only awoke once a year. I breathed in the cool air and felt the waterfall’s mist on my skin. I listened to the few birds still singing in the branches.

Ikfael was reverent. Just a little while ago, she’d been manic getting everything ready, but all that energy was gone. She was as still as undisturbed water.

We sat until the sun set and another blanket—this time made of stars—was pulled across the sky. The moon came out and shone down on the Glen. Scattered clouds like gray feathers slowly brushed against her face.

At midnight—I knew that only because I’d happened to glance at my Status—the pool swelled, like something big was in the water. I looked over the side and fell back as a huge snake breached the surface, shedding water as it came up onto the pool’s lip. The otter bowed, her paws over her heart.

Ah, couldn’t Ikfael have mentioned the elder was a giant snake? That’s an important detail she missed. I licked my lips and moved back into kneeling position. I bowed and stayed that way for as long as Ikfael did.

A breath released—a sigh that ran through the snake’s body—and Ikfael sat up. I followed her lead and saw enormous aqua eyes gazing at me, the scales around them gray. There was a flick of the tongue, and the snake turned her attention to the stars. She must’ve been at least twenty yards long, but I couldn’t tell for sure, since the coiling of her body disguised her true length.

I took a look with my Status camera:

??? (Spirit of the Land, Stonewater Serpent, Silvered)

Talents: *Denied*

Silvered! That meant the snake was at least Level 10, which was apparently enough to deny me information about her name and talents.

“Elder, we have prepared gifts,” Ikfael signed. She produced from her pocket a red ceramic plate and placed three of my donuts upon it. Next to them, she put a mug full of coffee. There was no steam rising, so it must’ve been cold.

“Should I start a fire to warm it up?” My question just came out. The situation was so out of the ordinary, the snake’s presence so overwhelming, that all my brain could do was grapple with the minutiae—that hot coffee would be more welcome on a chilly night.

The enormous snake nodded briefly, not taking her eyes away from the stars. Her agreement seemed to surprise Ikfael, but then she got up to help me gather the wood and tinder. That was when it sank in that something amazing was happening. I mean, there was a giant serpent in the Glen.

“Just work,” Ikfael signed.

So, I got a fire started, and Ikfael brewed a new cup of coffee. Surprisingly, she had a French press tucked away in that pocket of hers. I was shaking my head and wondering what else was in there when the smell of brewing coffee hit me; it hit me hard. Memories from my previous life rose up unbidden: The thermos that came with me as a young man working construction. The coffee that had fueled the long days and nights working as a production assistant. The slow mornings with Helen and watching the sun filter through the kitchen curtains. The terrible mud-like brews my children had insisted on making every Father’s Day.

Ikfael put her paw on my arm. “Here,” she signed. “Be now. Lose yourself to the past and you’ll miss the opportunity.”

I took a shuddering breath and nodded. With an act of will, I focused my attention on the sensations of my body. I reminded myself of the cool air, the sound of the waterfall, and the warmth of Ikfael’s paw on my arm.

When the otter saw me back under control, she turned to the stonewater serpent and waited. We stayed mostly like that, near motionless, through the rest of the night until the horizon to the east began to brighten.

I occasionally changed positions to ease the pins and needles in my legs. Ikfael kept the mug topped up with hot coffee, and she replenished the plate of donuts twice. I never did see the serpent eat or drink though. The food would just disappear a bit at a time. Her attention never left the stars above.

Finally, a sigh passed through the serpent, a tension and release of her body. She glanced around the Glen briefly and then slipped into the water. One moment she was there, and the next gone.

Ikfael fell back with relief onto the stone surrounding the pool, and chittered with laughter. “The Elder was pleased,” she signed. “Very pleased! I knew she would like the coffee and donuts. They were so good! You were so good, Eight. Diriktot was right—you are a blessing to the Glen.” She suddenly hopped up and ran to where the serpent had been coiled. “Our reward!”

There were two bowls lying there. One was sculpted from mottled stone, while the other was carved from mahogany. Ikfael grabbed the stone one like she knew it was hers, then plopped down to examine the contents.

The wooden bowl felt smooth when I picked it up and strangely warm, the water glowing golden. While the sky was starting to lighten, the sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet. The air, the ground, and the mist were all still cold, and I felt myself wanting to hold the warmth tight, to curl around it. A serpent was painted on the bowl’s interior; it was in the same Mesoamerican style I’d noted in the bowl that had taught me the Healing Water spell.

My whole being was suddenly immersed in the feeling of being home and of belonging. It didn’t hit me like the smell of coffee had, as it wasn’t accompanied by the feeling of loss. Instead, I felt complete. I felt like I was enough.

The spell drew Ikfael away from her reward to gaze down at my bowl. Her hands rose and fell like she wanted to say something, but Signed Diaksh failed her. Like there were no signs to adequately say what she wanted conveyed. Even the uekisheile came out to bask in the golden light. They’d gotten so good at communicating, but in the spell’s presence all they could say was: feel-family-home.

I felt like I’d come to know well these strange friends I’d made, but the light brought us together in an even deeper way. We were able to experience the best of what each of us had to offer. Ikfael’s hidden warmth and playfulness. The uekisheile’s devotion and bright mind. My endurance and commitment to do better.

We sat in a daze in each other’s company until the spell ran out. Looking at the sky, I realized it must’ve lasted about an hour or so. I was struggling to comprehend what I’d just experienced when Ikfael shook off the spell’s lingering effects and started to hit me with her paws. She didn’t use her full strength, so I wasn’t actually hurt, but the vehemence of the strikes startled me.

“Wait. Stop. What’s going on?”

Her clenched paws continued to strike me, and I did my best to ward them off without harming myself or her. The uekisheile offered to help, but I told them to just let her be. There were tears in Ikfael’s eyes.

Eventually, the otter ran out of steam, her paws falling to her sides. “Bad Eight,” she signed. “Not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What did I do? Was it the spell? I don’t know what it does.”

“How long will you stay?” Ikfael asked. “Until you grow up? Until you grow old? Humans live for such a short time. Your life is a leaf flowing downstream. Here now, then gone. So short. It’s not fair. Not fair to make me feel your presence, only to know that you will be gone so quickly.” She hit me once more for good measure, then turned away to flee into the pool.

I grabbed Ikfael’s shoulder to stop her. “No you don’t. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t go to bed mad. We’re going to talk about this.”

“The Glen isn’t lonely. I’m not lonely. I don’t need you,” Ikfael said.

“Yes, of course,” I said gently. “I never thought you did.”

“How long will you stay?” Ikfael asked, but this time the question wasn’t rhetorical.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” I said. “The Glen is my home. Ikfael is—” I paused, unsure if I should continue, but the effects of the spell lingered, and I found the words slipping from my mouth. “Ikfael is family, and I won’t abandon my family.”

Ikfael’s eyes stared into mine, like her life depended on what she saw in them. She went to hit me, this time on the head, but a second later her paw unclenched and she patted me instead.

“I hate this.” Ikfael grabbed her bowl and turned toward the pool. “So you better find a way to live forever.” Then she dove and disappeared into the water before I could respond.

Question-uekisheile-Ollie/Eight… can we talk too?

“Always,” I said. I felt like a man in the middle of a storm. My emotions were surging, but they were swelling inside the uekisheile too. I had to hold on to make sure the others were okay first.

We felt ourselves. What we are and what we can become. Our thinking—years and years of thinking—has been shallow. We did not know. Even when we lived through your memories, we did not understand. Did not recognize our hunger. For the first time, we became full. They paused to mull over what needed to be said. We will not go back to what we were. We are grateful for you teaching us, Ollie/Eight.

I’d held on during Ikfael’s outburst, but the uekisheile got me right in the heart. Tears unabashedly fell.

“I love you too, little buddy.”

We are not a little buddy. A wave of determination rolled through the lichen. We are family, and Ollie/Eight can call us… can call us Yuki.

“Oh,” I said in surprise. I’d wondered if the uekisheile—if Yuki would ever adopt a name, but I hadn’t expected it to happen now. “Sure. That’s great. I used to work with a film director named Yuki. It means—”

Snow or happiness in Japanese, yes. We know. Our choice is for it to mean happiness.

“All right,” I said, nodding. “We can do that.”

Is there anything Ollie/Eight would like to say?

Tears were still running down my face, but Yuki’s tendrils wiped them away. I grinned at how strange my life had become, but at that moment I knew that I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

“Only that you’re family too, Yuki. I want to make sure you know that.”

I felt Yuki’s satisfaction at having the words said, and their main body settled snugly in my heart dantian. They were home.

24

Grace and Memory

I put the mahogany bowl carefully aside and set my mind to pondering. The rest of me went to work, feeding wood to the campfire and getting a pot of morning porridge started. I still had some cornmeal left over, and decided to make corn cakes to go with it. They wouldn’t be donuts, but I figured Ikfael would like them.

A griddle would’ve been nice, but I had a flat stone that worked almost as well. A little bit of fat on top, and soon the corn cakes were sizzling. I kept an eye on them while my mind turned over recent events.

I didn’t know much about the stonewater serpent, just what Ikfael had told me, which was that an elder had resided in the Glen before Ikfael became aware of herself as a spirit. That was about two hundred years ago, from what I’d been able to gather.

Ever since then, Ikfael kept the serpent company on the nights of the summer solstice, and apparently the serpent left a reward in exchange for this duty. The exact nature of their exchange was a mystery to me—Ikfael wouldn’t talk about it—but her respect for the serpent was clear.

I wondered at what spell she’d gotten. As for mine, I struggled to understand its effects.

When was the last time Ollie/Eight felt anything similar? Yuki asked.

I turned my attention inward. Probably out camping, I thought. There’s something magical about a morning in the quiet woods, the mist rolling in through the trees and everything hushed. Helen and I used to wake up before the kids, get the coffee started, and watch the sunrise.

And the time before then? Yuki asked.

“When Daniel was born,” I said aloud. “He’d given Helen some trouble, and I was just so damn grateful that he and she were okay.”

The time before that was Alex’s birth, Yuki said.

I nodded. “That’s right. I’d been so scared of becoming a father, but as soon as I held her in my arms, I knew we were meant to be together as a family.”

And before then? Yuki’s qi swirled, absorbing the information and looking for patterns.

“It would’ve been the time I spent with my grandfather,” I said. “Back when I was a kid and the two of us went hunting.”

Yuki mulled over my words. There were no other instances?

“Not with the same kind of intensity. Those were life-changing moments—the events a person remembers for the rest of their life. Don’t you think so?”

Yes, Yuki said. But patterns can be both big and small. There are—what is the word—I felt them rummaging—there are oscillations. Yes, that’s right—there are oscillations. Not all phenomena are peak experiences.

“Well, if you put it like that, there was also my first time on a film set. I realized right away that it was a place I wanted to be, and the crew were people I wanted to be with. It was just a lark at first, me helping out a friend, but as soon I stepped on set, I felt at home.”

Not the same as family, Yuki said, observing my reactions.

“Not family, but also more than friends,” I said. “It was more like I recognized myself in them; we shared something in common.”

Something meaningful, Yuki said, and the deeper the meaning, the greater the oscillation and the more intense the experience.

“Sure,” I said. “That makes sense. So, that leaves us with a spell that—”

—finds common ground between individual consciousnesses and binds them together for a short time—

“—but there’s a lot we still don’t know, including the effects on strangers and the long-term impacts.”

We will need to experiment, Yuki said.

“Nothing new there,” I said. And then I scrambled to rescue the corn cakes which—lost in thought—I’d let burn.

Ikfael wasn’t happy I’d burned the cakes.

Thankfully, she provided the cornmeal for a second attempt and those turned out much better, especially once I’d dusted them with maple sugar. As soon as I saw her eyes get big, I knew I had a winner. The secret was adding a hint of chili pepper to the mix. The combination of sweet, savory, and spicy was addictive.

As Ikfael ate, I decided to broach a sensitive subject. “So that spell the stonewater serpent left for me—”

The otter’s eyes narrowed, and she rotated her most recent corn cake in her paws so she could nibble around the crisp edges before working her way into the soft interior.

“I was wondering what you thought of it...”

Ikfael closed her eyes to enjoy her food without distraction. She worked her way through three more corn cakes before sighing in pleasure. Then she sighed again, this time in reluctant acceptance. At least, that’s what it sounded like.

“I’ve never seen that spell before,” she signed. “Where is the bowl?”

I retrieved it for her, and she examined the workmanship. Yuki picked up the subtle manipulation of qi from the otter. I felt it too, but not as clearly. There was also the scent of something familiar—spirit mana.

“Have you examined the channels in the wood yet?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I… ah… I needed a little time to get a hold of myself. Should I examine the bowl with my energy?”

“Yes, do that,” Ikfael signed. “The spell requires… no, I will not say. It’s better if you learn for yourself.”

I looked at her a little longer, just in case she changed her mind about giving me a hint. When that didn’t happen, I gathered qi and mana and let them seep into the bowl. My control had gotten better, and I was able to gently sweep through the bowl, finding the runnels etched into the wood. They weren’t physical, but instead were made of qi, like the meridian runes in Antler-Sensei and the Anesthetic stilettos.

A water rune was etched into one side of the bowl and a spirit rune was on the opposite. Between them was a complicated series of loops, twirls, and arches connecting them. There was also concave depression at the center of the qi-structure, a bowl within the bowl.

“What?” I said aloud. “How am I supposed to memorize all that? How does it even work?”

Let me see, let me see, Yuki said.

I did my best to approximate the shapes and convey them with my qi. “You’ll get a better look tonight,” I said.

Yuki had been working on tapping into my optic nerves, but the process of interpreting the information was more complicated than they’d anticipated. They had an easier time once the information was processed and stored though, so my dreams and memories had become the places where they learned how to see.

It was humbling, actually. I’d always considered myself smart—it’s what got my self-esteem through middle and high school; my intelligence had helped me weather the discrimination and prejudice growing up. I hadn’t flaunted it, since that was a good way to get beat up, but at the time, it was a source of secret pride being the smartest person in the room. But I was nothing compared to Yuki. They were a straight-up genius, soaking up knowledge and learning to deftly wield it.

I had 15 Intelligence. Where did Yuki sit? 18, 19, 20? I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s even higher. It’d been a while since I checked them with my Status camera.

Yuki the Uekisheile (Lichen, Dawn)

Talents: Qi Sensitive, Qi Plunderer, Rampant Sentience, One with Qi, Multi-Threaded

Nascent Talents: One in a Million, Ageless Hunter, Dream Worker, True Symbiote

So much had changed since the first time we’d ‘met.’ Budding Sentience had turned into Flourishing Sentience a couple of weeks after that. Then, it changed again—this time into Rampant Sentience—shortly before my first visit to Voorhei.

On that same day, they’d gained Multi-Threaded, which let them think multiple thoughts in parallel. It was something they’d been practicing for years before they’d met me, but apparently I had been the catalyst for the talent ripening. With me around, there was too much information to process, so they’d had to learn the knack of it to keep up.

Of the nascent talents, I’d seen both One in a Million and Ageless Hunter before; they became visible as I steadily got to know Yuki. Dream Worker was new, as was True Symbiote. Neither surprised me, though. The changes reflected where Yuki was investing their time and effort.

Yuki’s curiosity was piqued when I shared the talents with them. We wish we could see our Status like you can see yours.

Me too. I would’ve loved to know Yuki’s stats. I’d even tried looking at my Status when our consciousnesses were merged, but the only changes were that my Occupied (Treaty*) condition disappeared and I gained an Enhanced (*) condition in its place. My theory was that the two of us would’ve had to fully merge for Yuki’s attributes and talents to be reflected on my Status sheet.

Okay, that’s enough daydreaming. Time to focus—

—Ollie/Eight. Yuki snickered after they completed the thought for me.

I rubbed the top of my head and smiled, embarrassed. Reminding myself to focus was a habit from my old life. “Yeah, yeah. I will, you little rascal.”

Ikfael’s eyebrows arched, her gaze questioning.

“Ah, sorry, not you. I was talking to Yuki. Um… I sense the runes for both water and spirit in the bowl. Should I insert my mana to see what happens?”

“Yes, but wait until I say so.” Ikfael dove into the pool and swam to the other side to pop out and run to the Glen’s boundary. From there, she waved to let me know it was safe to proceed.

I shook my head and poured mana into the two sides of the bowl. As expected, it transformed into water and spirit mana. The two energies then filled their respective sides of the larger composite rune until it shimmered like the sun on water. A minute later, the energy dissipated.

Ikfael swam back, and we took a few minutes to consult about what happened. Or, more accurately, the lack of anything happening.

“The spell needs more spirit than water,” Ikfael said, “so you will need to work to find the right balance. Also, you neglected the qi reservoir.”

“Is that what that depression at the bottom is for?” I asked.

“This is a more complicated spell than the ones you’ve used previously. It needs both mana and qi.” Ikfael made herself comfortable and pulled a ball of water from the pool, making it hover in the air. She manipulated the ball until the light refracted through it and cast a rainbow on the stone between us.

“The sun’s light is whole and complete,” she said, “but when we look closer, we can see that it is made of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Silverlight is the same, except that it is composed of mana, qi, body power, and other energies only the greater powers can sense and manipulate. Each of those energies affects a stratum of our world, as well as the strata adjacent to it. And if we are able to combine energies, then not only do we affect multiple strata, the power is also greater since we are bringing the components of silverlight closer to wholeness.”

“Ultimately,” Ikfael said, looking up at the sun, “we are all refractions of divinity.”

“And darklight?”

“Is divinity marred.” Ikfael dissipated the water into mist and let it be carried away by the wind. “Your lesson is finished. In exchange, I want more of these corn cakes tomorrow. A lot more.”

Yuki and I took about half a day to figure out the right ratio of spirit to water mana. For the record, it was about 80% spirit and 20% water. My sense was that the qi and water mana acted as a kind of connective tissue, while the spirit mana did the bulk of the work.

We cheered when the energies finally clicked into place, and then we were dazed by the spell’s effects. Unfortunately, it only lasted for a minute. Or should that be fortunately? It’d be awfully easy to become this world’s equivalent of a stoner with this spell.

I was groggy from staying up all night, but there was no way I’d sleep with a new spell to explore. So I meditated, and with Yuki’s help, recovered twelve points’ worth of mana over the next three hours. I planned to use it for three casts of the yet-unnamed spell. The bowl would be necessary each time, as the runes were too complicated to memorize quickly.

I cast the spell, and paid attention to see how the shortened duration affected the impact. The answer was that while the intensity was the same, I found it easier to shake off the effects afterward. Simultaneously, I also noticed that the sense of connection to Yuki deepened compared to the first time. Not a lot, but enough to be noticeable.

Next, I wanted to know how the spell would impact a creature who wasn’t already familiar to me, so I slipped into the woods with Camouflage active.

At first I targeted a squirrel, but I’d hunted so many in my previous life, I felt guilty about luring one into becoming friends. So, I snuck up on a little songbird instead. The body and wings were black, but the feathers on the bird’s head were indigo. I had spotted him when he’d popped out of a bush to look for tasty treats among the ground clutter.

First, I looked at it with my Status camera.

Blue-Faced Warbler (Animal)

Talents: Sprightly Flier, Honest Spirit

The warbler checked the area for predators between pecks, and I shifted into the land to make sure we didn’t startle him. This way, our full consciousness could also observe the spell in action.

The bowl glowed with golden light, and the warbler took to the air with a flutter of his wings. The initial panic must’ve melted, because he came back to the ground almost immediately. He glanced around curiously and started to groom his wing feathers.

“Easy now,” we said aloud, letting Camouflage go. “Don’t be surprised. It’s just us.”

The bird hopped back, but didn’t fly away. His head quirked, examining us with one eye and then the other, repeating until the spell’s duration ended. Then he jumped into the air and perched in a tree branch above us.

As a test, we yelled. The bird jumped, but didn’t fly away. He stayed and watched us. So we danced to see if that would scare him away. The dance was called the Twist—a naked Twist!—and our facial muscles shifted into a smile. Happiness burbled up from our heart. We noticed an ease to the union between Ollie/Eight and Yuki that had been missing before. There were points of friction that were now lubricated.

The integration between the two had been halted midway, which resulted in inefficiencies and redundancies—both excellent concepts. Now, though, in the spell’s wake, we came closer to a more perfect whole.

It was strange. Mysterious. Confusing.

We laughed—the amusement arising out of the Ollie/Eight portion of our consciousness—and we found ourselves thinking, The world’s a terrifying place, but it’s full of grace too.

The thought reverberated through us. We raised our hand, and after a moment’s hesitation the warbler flew down to perch on our finger. We stared at our new friend and couldn’t imagine hurting him. To hurt him would be to hurt ourselves.

Grace, it was as good a name as any for such a powerful spell.

The spell was too good to be true, so of course there were limitations. It worked just fine on small, harmless animals, but anything bigger—oh, for example, something the size of a deer—bounded away after the spell ended. The blue-faced warbler took longer; he left after a couple of days.

Also, the effects on animals with strong predatory spirits were dulled. They wouldn’t attack, but after the spell ended they’d either run or threaten me and then run. My hopes for adding the title Beastmaster to my resume were dashed… at least for now. But with practice, the impact and range improved, so maybe it could still happen one day.

Repeated casts of Grace layered the spell’s effects. They built up like a foundation, and I wondered if over time they could overcome a predator’s resistance. It would mean trapping the animal for as long as it took for the spell to work its magic though.

I was in the pool cooling off after training my integrated martial arts—what I’d taken to calling my attempts to find synergies between the magical and martial skills. My muscles still burned from the workout, but Ikfael’s Blessing helped with recovering my stamina, as well as moderating the water’s temperature. Being in the pool, then, was nothing but contentment; I floated upon its surface and reflected on my most recent training session.

That afternoon I had practiced my spear forms while Camouflaged. At the same time, I had also infused water mana into the waterfall’s mist. My goal was to be able to take control of the droplets and throw them at a foe’s eyes before using Cold Snap, surprising them during an ambush.

None of the attempts succeeded—my attention split in too many directions—but I figured that once the various pieces became muscle memory, when I didn’t have to focus so hard on making sure the qi flow and runic patterns were just right, I would be able to pull it off.

The current moved me around the pool in slow circles, and I occasionally had to backstroke to keep away from the waterfall. Mostly, I drifted, and when I was done reflecting, I let my mind wander too—thinking about people I’d known, things I wanted to eat, and places I’d been.

I was contrasting Voorhei with some of the villages I’d visited in my previous life when a terrible, wonderful, completely unrelated idea burst among my thoughts, scattering them.

Within me, Yuki’s attention spiked. Yes! We love it!

I must’ve said something aloud, because Ikfael looked over from where she floated nearby. “What’s that?”

The ramifications still needed to be thought through, but… Maybe, possibly, this is the solution to… “What have Yuki and I been struggling with lately… the thing that’s frustrated us the most?”

“Everything?” Ikfael signed, smirking.

I laughed. “Yes but no. Mostly no. What I’m talking about is the thing we can’t get to work at all: Blink.”

Ikfael swung around so that she was looking directly at me. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“What if,” I said, licking my lips, “what if we catch a blynx? We catch it and tame it using Grace. Tame it enough that it’s willing to take Yuki inside, at least long enough for us to learn how the spell works. We could probably do it without taming it—the key is getting Yuki inside—but it’d be simpler if the blynx cooperated.”

“You’re becoming awfully easy about using Yuki in this way,” Ikfael said.

“Well,” I said, “the blynx is a dangerous animal. If we found one normally, we’d have to kill it. This would be an alternative. And besides, human history is full of efforts to tame animals. There’s nothing wrong with taking a more efficient approach.”

“What about Billisha and Aluali?” Ikfael asked.

“What about them?”

“Wouldn’t it make sense to give them portions of Yuki too? So you could watch over them wherever they went.”

The thought had occurred to me. After Otwei had gone back to Voorhei, we’d kept tabs on her whereabouts and plans. It wasn’t a big leap from there to wonder about how a dormant Yuki could also act as a silent alarm and defender for the people I cared about.

I had originally intended to introduce Yuki to Billisha and Aluali when they turned eighteen, but that was the age when they were considered adults in my old world. Here, the process of becoming an adult started at ten and finished at fifteen. Many of the farmers in Voorhei were married by then.

Maybe ten was good enough? The thought rolled around in my head. Given the dangers of living in this world, it made sense. But there was an accompanying sense of unease. Not a month ago, I’d been deeply against the idea. Had our circumstances really changed so much to warrant such a radical change of heart?

I swam to the pool’s edge and pulled myself out of the water. Then, I sat cross-legged and closed my eyes, becoming one with the land and merging with Yuki. We needed to think about this.

The idea was good and would help protect the family. There was confidence in that thought. Our intention was to help and not hurt. We would only be a danger to those who threatened our family.

But what if Billisha or Aluali said no. What then? Would we force them? For their own good?

They were children and didn’t necessarily know better. It was the place of those who were older to guide children.

But there were adults who were imperfect in their violence—the moment we had that thought, our consciousness froze. The word we originally sought was guidance, but somehow, in the translation between synapses, it became violence.

When did guidance become violence? When the children acted up after you’d had a long, frustrating day looking for work in a country where people thought less of you because of the color of your skin. Then the belt came off, and Miguel went running to hide in the closet, and it was up to Ollie/Eight to face down a father’s wrath. To take the licks and protect his younger brother.

Our heartrate rose. Our adrenal glands surged, dumping adrenaline into our bloodstream. There was no danger in the Glen, only in our memories, but that was enough to move our body toward fight, flight, or freeze.

It wasn’t until our grandparents joined us in the house that the violence had stopped. But that left a year in between—a whole year where they weren’t present to stop…

We took a breath to restore calm. Then, we exerted pressure on our endocrine system to ease the flow of chemicals. More breaths followed and a short meditation. We imagined our mind as a garden, peaceful and lush. Only, the peace was disturbed by a seedling forcing its way up, shoving the fertile earth aside to gain access to the light and air.

The seedling sprouted leaves and folded them across its body like arms. Ah, Ollie/Eight used to stand that way whenever his adult children told stories of their misadventures. It was a sign he was waiting for them to recognize their mistakes.

One does not impose violence on children, even under the guise of guidance. Every being makes their own choices.

We made a promise not to become a monster.

We fell out of the land, but this time it was because Yuki chose to step away and reflect on what they’d just experienced. Meanwhile, I looked at my hands.

I let my thoughts wander back over what I’d experienced the past couple of weeks. Yuki and I had become as close as two beings could, and it had affected me. That was to be expected. I just didn’t think… I just hoped that the intimacy wouldn’t overrule my good sense. So far, I’d been able to act as our combined conscience, but how long could I count on that?

I had Yuki’s promise to do better, to become more than they’d been, and I knew they didn’t intend harm. I also knew that instinct was hard to overcome. As were the habits of thought ingrained over a long lifetime.

Yuki was working on it. Even now, I felt their qi circling in intense deliberation. I hoped it’d be enough. No, I needed to go beyond hoping. The situation required something more tangible to help Yuki find the boundaries between right and wrong. They didn’t even have to be my versions of right and wrong. As long as Yuki’s actions were intentional and not driven by instinct or habit, we’d be okay. Because I felt Yuki’s intentions: they were good. But the uekisheile needed better ways to implement them.

They needed more access to my stories and memories. That was how people learned best, and it seemed to work for the uekisheile too. And the stories would serve as a reminder to me, so that I didn’t lose myself as we became closer and closer.

Yuki and I were inseparable. We’d make it work.

I cleared my throat, decision made. So, yes, I had this idea, but it was found somewhere along the slope to becoming a monster. The idea wasn’t necessarily bad, though. In fact, it was quite sensible taming a blynx in order to learn from it. I’d just have to be careful I didn’t slip and lose my humanity in the process.

25

Eight Saves the World

That night I dreamt.

A pink tide poured out of the Red Room and filled the entire cave system around it. It ran down the side of the escarpment to cover the land below. Every plant, every insect, and every animal was soaked through, and all the creatures began to move as one body. They thought with one mind.

In Ikfael’s Glen, the kids and I were already stained pink. We welcomed the tide and let it flow over us. We watched as it swept down the hills, followed the folds and streams, and traveled across the cropland and pastures. Over the walls of Voorhei it went, all the way to Albei.

Nothing approached the Glen without first having to go through miles of united consciousness. Those that threatened the pink were co-opted. What had once been enemies became allies.

Time passed, and the tide expanded outward, absorbing the new and the strange. Every consciousness added to the whole until, finally, the entire world was pink. Everyone and everything united. There were no more enemies, and danger was a thing of the past. Peace reigned.

There was nowhere left to expand. No new stories or interesting events. Every day became the same as the previous. All that was, was pink.

If Yuki took over the world by inhabiting every living thing, that was what it would be like.

Another dream began. This time, there was a pink tide, but only the area around Voorhei was affected. The unity was not as great as before. Yet, there was amusement as adventurers came to study it—until they classified the tide as a threat.

People, cities, and empires joined together to neutralize the tide. The pink fought back, but by then the world was prepared. Magic was a mysterious and potent force. It shielded the pink’s enemies and turned the tide gray, draining consciousness until nothing was left.

In the next dream, I was eating dinner with the kids when the King of Forest suddenly charged into the Glen. I grabbed my spear, spinning up Dog’s Agility, but it was too late for Aluali. His arm was torn off by the bear. Blood gushed, and he screamed. The pink only inhabited the three of us, and such limited scope hadn’t been enough to warn us of danger approaching; it wasn’t enough to protect us from harm.

My eyes opened, startled. I went to shake my head—to fully rouse myself from this latest nightmare—but I was paralyzed. My body couldn’t move, and I was trapped somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. All the while, Yuki continued to occupy my dreams. The images rustled at the back of my mind and seeped into my thoughts unabated: I glimpsed Banan striding into the Glen with his spear lifted to strike at me.

At the same time, in the real world, moonlight refracted through the waterfall, enough for me to make out Ikfael sitting nearby. One paw was tapping against her chin, while the other held her water tablet. She appeared to have been examining me in my sleep. I tried to get her attention, but I couldn’t move or speak.

Yuki, I thought. Can you hear me? Wake up.

The uekisheile had asked permission to use my dreams earlier in the evening. In the past, they’d made similar requests so that we could practice: my spear and knife forms, the qi and mana spells, the Diaksh vocabulary I was memorizing, and so on. On rarer occasions, they’d used my dreams to tap into my knowledge about life, as a place to ask questions they might have had about people and their behaviors. There was so much Yuki didn’t know about the world, and my dreams were a safe place to test cause and effect, or build scenarios and see what came from them.

What would happen if Yuki took over the world by inhabiting every living thing within it? How about just the Glen? How far should they go to protect their family? These were all good questions, and I had a growing suspicion that a lot depended on the answers. Not that I thought Yuki would turn into a pink tide per se, but it’d be best to squash the idea early.

The dream ended, and I was left with the image of a spear piercing my chest.

Okay, seriously, that’s enough.

It took a while—enough time for a dream to begin, end, and another to begin again—before I was finally able to slip back into sleep, to inhabit my own dreams once more.

I found myself immersed in a standoff with Otwei. The rest of the Albei team were arrayed behind her, and they held Billisha and Aluali hostage in exchange for the location of the Red Room. Inside me, Yuki spun up Dog’s Agility in preparation for the fight. I noted that the kids didn’t have the uekisheile present in their bodies, but Yuki had taken over some of the surrounding trees.

“Can you even do that?” I asked.

“Stop stalling,” Otwei said. “Tell us where the eilesheile is located, or else your family will die.”

“Are located,” I said. “There are many eilesheile, so you need to use the plural.”

Anxiety and alarm ran through me. My sweat smelled of fear. We had to save the children. They were our family and needed our protection at all costs.

The pressure to do something—anything—to save Billisha and Aluali was immense. Yet, the words I spoke were measured: “They’re such dangerous words—at all costs.”

I slowly drew my knife and walked toward Otwei. While my body panicked, I forced myself to disregard the sensations flooding through me. I knew it was a dream and so did Yuki, but they were caught up in the simulations they’d made.

“Stay where you are, or else the children will die!” Otwei yelled.

I ignored her, and Kuros stabbed Billisha in the shoulder with a knife as a warning. She cried out, and blood began running down her arm.

“Zasha, it hurts!”

“Zasha, don’t let them kill us!”

The children’s pained cries added to the flood within me, but I walked steadily forward, ignoring Otwei as she barred the way. I ducked under her spear, but she spun it around to stab me in the calf to slow me. I kept walking.

“Be careful,” she said. “He’s using that Anesthetic spell of his. Pain won’t affect him.”

It was almost funny—Yuki was pulling out all the stops with these scenarios. I didn’t laugh, though. What came next was going to be difficult, even if it was a dream. I took my knife and stabbed Billisha in the neck, putting her out of her misery. Then I did the same for Aluali.

The dream froze, the Albei hunters caught stepping back in shock. Otwei’s mouth hung open.

We—we killed them, Yuki said, their tendrils sprouting from the trees around us. But we thought we loved Billisha and Aluali?

“We do. We do love them.”

But then, why did we kill them?

“Because we can’t let our desires control us,” I said.

What reason did Yuki have to run these simulations? What intention lay at the foundation of each? The answer was me and the kids, and the desire to protect us and keep us safe.

I couldn’t let love turn Yuki into a monster.

“Life is difficult,” I said. “There’s suffering everywhere, and it’s easy to get caught up in it. To fixate on chasing after our wants and cravings, the things we think will make the pain go away. But life never works out that way. Happiness is fleeting. But then so is sorrow. Both come and go. The danger is in getting stuck in either. In drowning in them.”

I sat down and gestured for Yuki to come closer. They poured out of the trees and took the shape of a small human being, about the size of Tinkerbell from Peter Pan, except this fairy was pink and made of lichen. Then, they sat on my knee and listened.

“There are two sides to desire,” I said. “One challenges us to meet the obstacles in our way and grow stronger. The other transforms into craving, and we become addicted to the things we think we want—never getting quite enough to keep pain forever at bay. Love is the same way. It can inspire us to be our best or make us smaller through jealousy and fear, turning us into monsters.”

I sighed and gently smiled, letting my love for Yuki pour forth. “Humanity is a spectrum. We become more or less human through our thoughts and deeds. It has nothing to do with DNA or biology. It’s all inside, in our hearts.”

Yuki ruffled through my memories as I spoke, and I let myself be an open book to them. They rummaged through all the broken relationships before I’d met Helen. All the painful lessons from my first family. To the web of decisions that had accrued over time and given shape to the man I’d become.

After a while, Yuki said, If… if love changes us into something we hate, then it’s not love at all.

“That’s right,” I said. “Besides, this is a dream. You know I wouldn’t really hurt Billisha and Aluali. I just needed to make a point.”

The dreams are helpful, though, to imagine what may happen.

“They are. I’m not denying that. And searching for the most optimal solution might seem like a good approach, but we have to be careful to include other people’s lives in our solutions, even if they’re not friendly or there’s a chance they’ll become enemies later. We don’t have to be nice, but there are lines we shouldn’t cross if we can help it. Maybe even never.”

Otwei intends us harm, Yuki said.

“I know. She’s angry and frustrated and has ideas about wringing the secret of the Red Room from us, but none of those ideas currently include the intention to do violence. We’re in opposition—in competition—and while her team engages in shady practices, that’s not enough reason to kill them or sublimate them into our consciousness. Now, that might change. She and the other Albei hunters may become desperate enough to actually threaten us, in which case all bets are off. We’ll respond appropriately.”

It would be simpler if she never has the opportunity to choose violence in the first place, Yuki said.

“Yes, that’s true, but that’s also the nature of free will.”

I sorted through what I knew of religion, ethics, sociology—anything that might help convince Yuki that taking over the world was a bad idea. All those philosophical approaches felt empty though. They were intellectual, without any emotional resonance.

Justice, freedom, individual rights, and responsibilities to the whole—they were tricky to explain. My mind understood the concepts, but it was my heart that provided the wisdom, the ability to feel their importance, and how they messily balanced each other. How should I encapsulate a lifetime’s experiences? The events that fed into a gestalt of right and wrong?

The uekisheile was already most of the way there. They were committed to expanding their understanding of themselves and the world, and just needed an extra push to break through.

Yuki watched as I grappled with myself. A tendril shifted on their face, making it look like a smile. You’re not going to write me an essay, are you?

I sputtered in laughter. And then my breath caught. That was a joke. Yuki’s first joke. Okay, it wasn’t that funny, but I was floored anyway. Not because they’d learned the dynamics of humor—which was pretty damn amazing—but because they’d developed enough emotional and social savvy to realize we needed humor to lighten the mood in that moment. They’d sought to help me from feeling as though I was the one and only bulwark between the world and an all-consuming pink tide.

Yuki shook their head. We wouldn’t really go through with a plan like that. We feel how much of a disturbance it would cause in our heart. We would lose… we would lose our growing humanity.

And, well, that’s when grace descended. Not the spell, but the real thing. I’d felt it twice before in my life. First, when I was in high school and thinking dark thoughts about ending it all. And then again after Helen was gone, all alone hiking in the mountains and wondering about life.

Then, and now, I opened like a flower—a communion between me and the universe. Everything that was, is, and would be flowed through me. The hard and the soft, the ugly and the beautiful, the light and the dark. All of it.

Those moments of grace were an unexpected gift, and so it was again.

Yuki shuddered as the sensations cascaded through us both. We’d grown so close. They knew me, and I knew them. That was why my fear of them had dissipated. I knew I could count on them to understand, to care, and to protect—not just my body but also my heart.

There was a part of me, though, that had always resisted, a kernel that held back because it knew too well the pain of loss. Even when our consciousnesses were merged or we were under the effects of the Grace spell, I hadn’t been able to help holding back a portion of myself.

Not anymore. I let go, and the last wall fell.

I let Yuki read whatever they wanted from my thoughts and feelings, my memories and experiences, my ugliness and beauty. All of it.

We joined as never before. Not like through the land, but as individual consciousnesses resonating with each other, the experiences flowing back and forth. We merged—one mind, not of two parts, but whole.

We extended the dream until the sun peeked into the Glen and through the waterfall. The light warmed our toes. The rest of us was chilly, though, and sticky from sweat. It would feel good to wash off.

We stretched and separated. I propped myself up and took a moment to gaze inside. Yuki glowed softly within me—a warm pulse of life added to mine. A wave of love passed through me. It rippled through them, and they cast it back doubled.

I thought I heard a sigh of relief, but when I turned my head to where Ikfael had been sitting, no one was there. I grinned, and got up. It was time to start a new day.

26

Life and Everything In Between

I stretched, working out the kinks. My skin and hair were sticky with sweat and my mouth felt fuzzy, like I’d spent the night drinking.

A bath. I definitely need a bath. But I forgot to buy soap while I was in the village. I’ll have to remedy that or make it myself.

The process wasn’t hard—I’d just need to make lye first…

Who was I kidding? Making my own soap would’ve been fine weeks ago when my only concern was surviving, but there was too much to do now. I had three new spells to practice—Camouflage, Scentless Hunter, and Grace. Not to mention, I still needed to build proficiency with my other spells and skills.

I like hunting and magic best, Yuki said.

We’re of one mind, then, I said.

Literally.

Literally.

The uekisheile and I had spoken at the same time and laughed at the shared joke.

So what do you want to work on today? I asked, smiling.

Grace, Yuki said without hesitation. The other spells are straightforward—all they’ll take to improve are practice and observation—while Grace has more unanswered questions.

We can do that, I said, with the goal of—

—taming a blynx.

“It’ll be tricky,” I said, thinking aloud. “According to Tegen, the Blink ability relies on line of sight, so even the smallest gap in an enclosure could lead to the animal’s escape.”

We could blind it, Yuki said, and then they hesitated. No, that would be cruel, wouldn’t it? Blinding should be a last resort. Unless we’re hunting or defending ourselves, right? That would be different.

“Yes, I agree, but it’s still an interesting idea,” I said, feeling proud of how far the uekisheile had come. “What about blocking the optic nerve instead of cutting it? Could you do that, and then unblock it after the blynx was tamed?”

We would need to experiment to find out, but we’d rather not do it on you. Let’s go hunting later.

“Sure, we need to restock the refrigerator anyway.”

But first, Grace. And we’d like to join consciousnesses later to experience more memories.

“Sounds good,” I said. “Let me just clean up first.”

The next few days passed in a blur. In the mornings we practiced our integrated martial arts, and in the afternoons we explored the biology of the small mammals around the Glen. Cutting the optic nerve turned out to be easy. Interrupting sight without causing permanent damage was harder.

What most stood out about this period, though, were the times we spent reliving my memories. It was embarrassing and weird, but at the same time it was also strangely okay.

For instance, there was this time when Helen and I were visiting Los Angeles, and we’d made a special visit to Little Tokyo for ramen—which was delicious by the way, the soup so rich and full of umami and the noodles had the perfect bite. Anyway, we walked through the area in a food-induced haze afterward and stumbled across a shop that sold kimonos.

Helen, the minx, saw me checking them out, bought one, and well, we had a lovely evening at the hotel afterward. Several, in fact. And I cringed at Yuki watching us go at it, yet they were just so delighted by the love flowing between Helen and me that it was… wholesome.

And then there was the memory of the time I caught a nasty stomach flu and spent the night with my face pressed against the toilet. At one point, I heaved so hard I lost control of my bowels and ended up soiling my pants. It really was coming out both ends.

This was before Helen and the kids, so I’d had to drag myself into the shower and clean up on my own, nearly out of my mind dizzy. Yet, all Yuki wondered about was the human body’s remarkable ability to projectile vomit.

It wasn’t all sex and scat. There were softer, gentler moments and boring ones too—everything else a life fully lived encapsulated. Mine, Helen’s, and the kids’. Yuki watched Alex and Daniel grow up. Watched me struggle with the challenges of figuring out how to be a dad. Changing diapers, the terrible twos, the camping trips, the tween years. Oh my gods, the drama of the tween years! Both kids had thankfully settled down in high school. They took after their mom that way. Then there was Alex’s coming out, and Daniel’s fixation with masks, which turned into him dual majoring in fine arts and anthropology. I was so proud of my kids. They’d weathered growing up so much better than I had.

Then, of course, there was Helen’s passing. I had talked to Yuki about it before, but this time they were right there with me by her side, holding her hand, talking about not much at all, while Alex and Daniel sat on the other side of the hospital bed, holding her hand too.

Well, Helen knew she was loved. Fiercely and passionately loved. The cancer had taken away so much, but never that.

And then the despair afterward and the long road to—I never could find a name for what came after. Not normalcy, surely. Life, I suppose. It was all just life. Life and everything in between.

Yuki hungered for it all and didn’t discriminate between the moments. Each and every one was precious. And I had to agree.

Eventually, life normalized. The focus of my days shifted from the communion with Yuki to the everyday needs of living in the woods. The routine of training, gathering, hunting, and woodworking grounded me, and when the time came to return to Voorhei to fulfill my regularly scheduled obligations to the Hunter’s Lodge, I felt… good. Confident, even. I had two strong allies in Yuki and Ikfael, and also the support of some good people in the village. Things were looking up.

There was a lodge hunt coming up, so I left the Glen a day early to be able to spend time with the kids and Bihei beforehand. I was also due to hand over the runes for the Healing Water spell at a gathering of villagers capable of using mana-based magic.

Fortunately, I didn’t run into any delays hiking back to the village. Some of that was due to being more comfortable with the route and getting better at Stealth, but my spirit eyes helped too; whenever the spirits in an area looked troubled, we detoured around. The small delays that resulted were well worth it, though, since they allowed me to avoid tangling with any dangerous predators.

I had left well before dawn, and arrived at Voorhei just as the gate was lifting for the day. Billisha and Aluali were, of course, waiting for me. They ran down the hill and threw themselves into my arms. Yuki hummed with excitement, just as thrilled as the kids to be reunited. Their tendrils were woven through my hair, but were one with the land and Camouflaged, so none of the people around us noticed.

The kids grabbed my arms and practically dragged me back to Bihei’s longhouse, talking a mile a minute. Apparently, as denizens of Ikfael’s Glen, their status had gone way up after the ceremony on the solstice, and they now had a band of followers, mostly consisting of kids from other hunter families. It was a good sign that they were fitting in.

At the longhouse, Bihei greeted me with a warm hug, and then the family settled in around the cookfire. Breakfast was a hearty corn and potato porridge with big chunks of salmon and a layer of melted butter on top. The meal was just as warm as the time spent with my family.

All the sconces around the ritual room under Hunter’s Lodge were lit. The floor and walls looked like they’d been washed, and there was the scent of something herby and floral in the air. An eclectic group sat in a circle around Inleio and me: Mumu, Haol, Ben, Sheedi, and a couple of villagers I didn’t know.

They all watched as Inleio handed me a silver sphere in which to put the Healing Water rune. Ikfael had given her permission, so I had no qualms about sharing the spell. All I had to do was imagine the runes in my mind, and once I felt them lock into place, ready for my mana, the sphere intruded into my thoughts and sucked them away instead.

Once the runes were in the sphere, though, Inleio gave it to Mumu instead of putting it somewhere safe for transport to Albei. Then, Mumu closed her eyes and focused on the runes inside. After about ten minutes, she passed it to Haol on her left. When Haol was done roughly twenty minutes later, he offered it to Ben.

Once I realized that they’d intended to pass the spell around to everyone in the circle, I raised my eyebrows at Inleio. The lodge’s spells weren’t supposed to be shared with outsiders.

He coughed and looked away. “The spell doesn’t belong to the Hunter’s Lodge yet, so there is nothing wrong with sharing the spell with the people of Voorhei.”

“Uh huh. And once the Hunter’s Lodge approves the spell?” I asked.

“Then our rules will apply,” Inleio said, “and you will be handsomely rewarded for your contribution. I will make sure of it, on my honor.”

I didn’t mind spreading the spell as long as it was a fair trade. It’d only do good as far as I was concerned, and I trusted Inleio to keep his word. As for the lodge’s rules… well, I could already see how I could bend them to teach Billisha and Aluali if either of them turned out to have a talent for magic.

At my smile, Inleio lifted a hand to make sure I was paying attention. “Our rules exist to strengthen the lodge. The stronger the lodge, the more protection it provides the people. But when the rules no longer protect the people—when they protect the lodge at the expense of people—then we do what we must. A hunter is flexible. They know what they hunt and why. Without those two understandings, they become lost along the Path to Perfection. The lodge is a place of rest and support along the way. It is not the Path itself. Does our Eight understand?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “More than you know.”

Inleio nodded, relieved. “I believe you. I believe in you.”

That made me grin.

“But that does not mean that you can chew rocks. When we are finished here, you will show me your progress with your Spear and Knife Arts.”

“Yes, master,” I replied, my grin spreading.

And so it went, the sphere going from hand to hand, person to person, three times around the circle. The whole afternoon was spent in the lodge, as the people around me memorized the spell.

One of Bihei’s chickens had stopped laying, so we had chicken and grits for dinner later that night. Bindeise’s ghost visited while we were eating, but he didn’t do anything except stand in the corner. He looked lost and lonely, so I just let him be. Afterward, he poked around the part of the longhouse reserved for livestock.

Bihei worked at her loom, and the kids had baskets they were weaving. I was the only one without anything to do, so I sat in meditation with Yuki rifling through my memories in the background.

It was a quiet night, but the next day, the lodge would go hunting.

The print in the muddy slope looked like it had been left by a blynx—or it could’ve been a regular lynx. While Tegen and Haol debated which it was, Mumu climbed a tree for a better view of the surroundings, and I had my spirit eyes open searching for anything Camouflaged. I was finally able to cast Dog’s Agility and handle all the extra sensory information provided by the land on my own.

The debate inconclusive, we followed the trail south along the hillside and then cut west, up toward a higher elevation. Near a large granite outcropping, the trail disappeared, which lent weight to the argument that it was a blynx. There was a limit to the range of a blynx’s Blink, though, and no matter how exhaustively we searched and how wide we made our circles, we found no further signs of the animal. The whole time, the hunters took particular care to keep Teila and me protected.

We spent a good three hours circling around the outcropping. We even looked for gaps in the stone to make sure it hadn’t gone underground, but there was nothing.

I asked Yuki to make sure it wasn’t Otwei playing tricks on us, but they reported that she was intent on tracking a herd of musk oxen to our southwest, maybe a mile out. She wasn’t thinking of us at all. Instead, a thread of worry ran through her belly.

Before I could ask the reason for her concern, I heard an eagle’s cry, and a shadow the size of a small plane shot underneath me.

I dove to the side as hunters scattered for the trees. The world blurred as Yuki sped my qi through the patterns for Dog’s Agility. As I fell toward the ground, I heard a series of rifle shots: Haol casting arrows clad in Spiral Pierce. Mumu’s shots lagged only a moment behind.

The air went out of me when I hit the ground. My roll was sloppy, but I was able to get my legs back under me and run for cover under a pine tree’s branches. It was all I could do to wave them out of the way so that I didn’t poke my eyes out.

I’d just gotten behind the trunk, when the tree began to sway dangerously. A crack sounded above me, and the top of the tree fell to the ground. I looked up at the suddenly clear view of an eagle powerfully flapping its wings to rise up into the air.

Giant Eagle (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Big Boy, Talons Like Knives, Death from Above, Air Superiority

“Teila?” Tegen yelled.

“Safe!”

“Eight?”

“Also safe,” I said.

“To me,” Tegen yelled. “At the oak. Quickly, while it rises.”

I ducked beneath the pine’s branches and ran toward the oak tree Tegen had taken shelter under. He already had his spells flowing, the smell of qi strongly upon him. It took only a moment to recognize Bear’s Strength, Collaut’s Hide, and Iron Heart. Then my eyes were on the sky again. I reached back to unsling my bow.

My arrow nocks now had notches so that I could load them by feel. I no longer had to look down to check if the fletching would hit the stave or not.

The eagle circled around to scan the ground. Haol and Mumu shot again, the air cracking with the sound of their arrows. My own shots felt anemic in comparison.

“Gods-be-damned pop gun,” I muttered. “My next spell’s going to be Spiral Pierce.”

Teila shot her arrows with just as much frustration. “Mine too!”

The eagle was an acrobatic nightmare—dodging left and right, up and down. A barrel roll avoided a coordinated attack from the hunters, the arrows passing underneath his agile body. Haol dove to avoid the eagle’s talons, the tree behind him buffeted by wings.

For a moment, the eagle was close to the ground.

In the blink of an eye, Mumu dropped her bow and grabbed her spear to launch herself at the eagle’s back. Spiral Pierce broke through the feathers shielding his body. The spear stuck, but was yanked around when the eagle twisted, his beak slicing through the air to reach Mumu.

She let go and dropped to the ground. An arrow from Haol kept the eagle at bay long enough for her to roll away. With steps thumping, Tegen charged like a locomotive.

Alarm flashed through the eagle’s eyes, and he took off, his wings flapping furiously to catch at the air. Blood streamed from where Mumu’s spear was still lodged.

The eagle kept low to the treetops to limit his exposure to our arrows, then winged away toward the escarpment to the west. He’d missed his meal and come away hurt instead. It was time to retreat.

Haol panted hard, but didn’t let go of his bow. “Running low,” he said between breaths, “on qi.”

Mumu scrambled to pick up her own bow. Her breathing came fast too. “Same.”

Tegen let go of his spells, the qi dissipating from his body like mist. “I have enough for one more spell in me.”

The three of them gathered around the apprentices and scanned the sky. When the eagle didn’t show any signs of returning, we all breathed a sigh of relief.

“We withdraw,” Mumu said. She checked the sun. “We’ll find a safe place to recover, and then head back.”

It wasn’t quite five in the afternoon, so we easily had another four hours of light left. Her decision meant that we’d finish the day’s hunt early, but I couldn’t blame her—we’d had a close call. None of us were happy, but we were grateful to have come out of the encounter unscathed.

Our team’s hope had been to go after the wounded eagle the next day, but Inleio had something else in mind. The Albei team had found signs of a band of adolescent musk oxen bulls who’d been expelled from a larger herd. The evidence pointed to them intruding into the territory of a wolf pack—the same one who’d tried to move into the musk oxen’s territory due to pressure from the kalihchi bear.

It wasn’t unusual for adolescent bulls to be exiled from a herd, the dominant bull pushing out any up-and-coming competition, but from the way the situation was explained to me, it almost sounded like the adolescents had been intentionally sent at the wolves to cause trouble for them in retaliation. Given how animals could evolve in this world, maybe that wasn’t such a far-fetched idea.

In any case, there were several animal groups contesting for territory to the south and west. Well, one of those groups was the King of the Forest, and he didn’t have to vie for anything. What the kalihchi bear claimed as territory was his. The adolescent musk oxen bulls, though, were being squeezed between the lot of them, and the fear was that they’d head to Voorhei as a result.

Musk oxen were notoriously grumpy, and often weighed six hundred pounds or more. They normally preferred arctic habitats, where their thick fur coats kept them warm, but the animals in this world did what they pleased. They had abilities and powers that invalidated the common sense I’d brought with me from my previous life.

Apparently, musk oxen mutated easily under the influence of darklight, and their mutations tended to vary widely, which was why this band of bulls was so worrisome. We had no knowledge of their capabilities. All we knew was that there were five or six of them, and that the wolves had so far managed to keep them at bay. The bulls would likely be powerful, but not too powerful—a threat now, with the potential to be a much larger threat later.

So, Inleio negotiated with Ghitha for the Albei team’s services in order to devote the second day to hunting down the oxen. There was a good chance the whole lodge would be involved.

27

Bull Hunt

Later that night, while the kids wove their baskets and Bihei worked at her loom, our body sat in apparent meditation as we listened to the village’s leadership hashing things out with Ghitha.

His main demand was for the Hunter’s Lodge to kill the King of the Forest. And to our surprise, Inleio wasn’t entirely opposed. His counter-proposal, though, was to delay the bear’s hunt. The lodge needed more time to prepare for it—time to practice the Healing Water spell and get used to working with the Albei team. He argued that the hunt for the musk oxen bulls would be a good first step and a test of their coordination together.

Otwei observed the proceedings with amusement, impatience, and greedy glee. The Albei team would likely stay in Voorhei for another three or four weeks as a result of the negotiations, and that meant a steady flow of gold into their pouches. The downside, though, was that there wasn’t anything to do in this backwater village. At least she got to see her employer Ghitha squirm.

We couldn’t observe him ourselves—the best we were able to manage from her optic nerves were variations of light and dark—but we felt her satisfaction about the beads of sweat accumulating on Ghitha’s forehead. There’d been speculation among her teammates about the depth of his wealth. Another four weeks might be his limit, especially with the additional expenses from the Alchemist and Soldier Lodges.

Banan had demanded elixirs for his whole team to protect them from lightning qi, in addition to two ballistae and their crews. Delivery of those large weapons would now need to be rescheduled, and a hefty penalty would come with that.

All of the expenses related to the kalihchi bear’s hunt were significant. But then the reward was supposedly something special indeed—a chamber full of eilesheile. Or at least that was what had been promised to Ghitha, and he believed in that promise. It had come from his beloved brother after all—the man who could chew any rock, unless it was made of kalihchi bear.

Otwei snickered and had to pretend to cough. The room was tense from the discussions, and she didn’t like all those serious eyes turned on her. She wondered if she could slip out unnoticed. They didn’t need her, so maybe she could make some mischief around the village while everyone slept. It would help pass the time.

Otwei felt Banan’s gaze, warning her not to make trouble, and she sighed. This village was so boring. At least there were the musk oxen to look forward to tomorrow.

The hunters left Voorhei the next morning. Each of them traveled in their respective teams moving through the forest in circle formation. The people from Albei took the lead and scouted ahead. I figured my team would also be near the circle’s leading edge, but Mumu had us lag so that we were behind everyone else. The pattern was the same as the one used in smaller groupings of hunters—the strongest were always at the head and tail. The formation was just being replicated at a larger scale.

There’d been a light rain early in the morning, just shy of sunrise, but the sky was clear with only a few tufts of cloud left over. It made for muddy patches in places, but no one stepped in them. These were all experienced hunters, even the apprentices, so they stuck to where the forest’s detritus was thickest to avoid leaving tracks.

About every half mile, a hunter from one of the adjacent teams swung by to check on us. Each time, Tegen signaled, “All clear.”

The day was starting to warm and steam had begun rising from the ground where the sun filtered through the trees, when we reached the granite outcropping where the giant eagle had attacked us the day before. A hunter—I recognized him from Borba’s team—came out of the trees and loped toward us.

“Change of direction,” he signed and pointed toward a ridge southwest of us.

“We hear you,” Tegen signed, but the hunter had already started on his way back.

Tegen whistled a songbird’s melody, and that pulled Mumu and Haol in from their positions at the head and tail. He pointed off in the new direction, and that was enough to get the hunters oriented.

I had Yuki check on Otwei’s position, and yes, she was over by the ridge. Nervous anticipation ran through her, the feeling sparking in her mind but watery in her belly. It was a strange mix of sensations.

Tegen tapped me on the shoulder. “Focus,” his eyes said.

I nodded, then followed him into the trees.

We were on our bellies on top of the ridge while down below, among a stand of pine trees, the tail of a musk ox swung. The rest of him was blocked from view, as was the rest of the small herd.

According to Otwei’s report, they were all adolescent bulls, and this one was somewhere between five and six hundred pounds. I checked him out with my Status camera:

Musk Ox (Animal)

Talents: Sullen, Competitive

“What do your eyes tell you?” Mumu asked. She kept her hands low so that the signs didn’t spook our prey.

“I don’t sense any darklight in this one,” I said.

Mumu nodded, then signaled to the adjacent hunter teams. To our right was the team from Albei; to our left was Kesa and her team. The rest were strung along the ridge like pearls on a necklace. The signal came back for scouts to move out.

Mumu grinned and faded from my attention. I had to really focus to keep track of her as she snuck down the hillside. I spotted Otwei moving in parallel, and then caught sight of the other scouts as well, seven in total.

They moved carefully down the hillside, edging toward the trees. The whole line stopped when the adolescent musk ox stepped into the open and gazed up at the ridge. Not a single hunter moved.

A grunt from deeper among the trees turned the adolescent around and lured him out of view. The scouts started moving again, slipping between the tall grass and easing through bushes until they too disappeared into the trees.

Twenty long minutes later, Mumu reappeared at the tree line and made her way back up toward the ridge. She signaled a meeting for the team leaders, and they congregated nearby, close enough for me to see the map she drew in the dirt. The other leaders squatted on their haunches around her.

“Trees for fifty yards. A stream at the edge here.” Mumu pointed at the map. “This hill slopes; the ground is pebbly. This is a fallen oak, good for cover, as are the bushes along this path. Good forage here and here. This is where the musk oxen are gathered. There are six. At least two have strayed. Maybe one more, but the scouts are in disagreement.”

Strayed… that’s what they call those who’ve absorbed enough darklight to mutate. If I can get a look at them with my camera, I might be able to tell how.

“Do we know the nature of those that strayed?” Kesa asked.

“Their leader is bigger than the rest and has iron fur and sharp horns,” Mumu signed. “The other, I don’t know. He is smaller, but has purplish fur and his horns point forward like a javelina’s tusks.”

Banan spoke up for the first time: “My team will take the two strays. If you all can keep the rest of the herd occupied, we can make sure these musk oxen will never trouble the village.” His gestures were confident, yet the other team leaders didn’t seem to take it well.

They showed it in different ways. Borba’s brows rose in surprise; Mumu’s eyes narrowed; and Kesa’s face was bland, not giving anything away for free. I would’ve hated playing poker with that one. I was a decent player, but I tended to be too expressive. She would’ve eaten me alive.

“That is a—” Mumu struggled to find the right word. “That is an interesting plan.”

Beside me, Tegen nodded in agreement.

“But let me propose a different approach,” Mumu continued. “We will draw the herd to the ridgeline. When they are in view, we will shoot at them with our bows. If the leader charges, Banan’s team will respond. If the purple one attacks, that will be my team’s responsibility. Kesa and Borba’s teams can handle the one we’re uncertain about. Dura, Tobin, and Susu’s teams will deal with the remaining ordinary oxen.”

Kesa grinned. “Borba’s father and I used to hunt together often. It will be like those old days.”

“The trick will be getting them all out into the open,” Borba said.

The other hunters nodded along and began to discuss the plan’s details. A frown flitted across Banan’s face, but he banished it quickly. “Our team has a way to bring the oxen out into the open. You can trust us to do it.” He turned his professional smile on and aimed it at Mumu. “I can see why Voorhei’s lodge master places so much trust in you. This is a good plan—we will make it work.”

Afterward, while the plan was spread to the other hunter teams, I took Mumu aside. “I’d like to get a look at the musk oxen before we start. There might be something for me to learn about them using my spirit eyes.”

Mumu frowned in thought. I wasn’t sure what factors she was balancing in her head, but she gave a quick nod at the end of her calculations. “Very well. Follow me.”

She slipped into the long grass and down toward the trees. I followed suit, joining with Yuki in the process. Behind us, we saw hunters starting to work along the hillside. They planted stakes into the ground. The defenses would reinforce our position at the top of the ridge.

Mumu led the way through the trees, which were a mixture of eastern oak, red cedar, and a tree called saswei by the villagers. The bark smelled like cinnamon and was supposed to be good for the heart. This particular tree had a strong spirit, shining among the rest, and we made a note of its location. Cinnamon would be delicious on our donuts.

Focus. The thought arose, and we smiled.

There was a musk ox only thirty yards from the tree line, but nothing stood out about him. His talents were Irascible and Opportunistic.

While Mumu signaled to the other scouts to withdraw, we edged around the area, moving carefully. The trees kept us from being seen by the herd, but there was nothing wrong with the musk oxen’s hearing. We stuck to where the footing was most sure.

Our small body proved helpful when we slipped under a bush to crawl forward. A view opened onto the other oxen gathered near the stream. We found Sullen and Competitive, the first musk ox we’d originally spotted. The others were: Surly and Bulky, Grouchy and Charger, and finally Fierce-Tempered and Stronger Than He Looks.

Their leader stood in between them, twice the size of the others. His fur was especially thick, and his horns gleamed a pure white instead of grayish-whitish-brown.

Musk Ox Alpha (Animal)

Talents: Angry, Sharp-Horned, Iron-Furred, Charger

We also caught sight of a purple-furred ox browsing among the bushes. He wasn’t quite as tall as the others, and as Mumu mentioned his horns faced forward instead of to the sides. The purple extended into the horns, becoming so dark at the tips that they were nearly black.

Musk Ox Alpha (Animal)

Talents: Haughty, Nimble, Nothin’ Better Than Blood, Burster

We took a long breath and eased out from under cover slowly. Frustration arose that our Status camera wasn’t more descriptive. Applying our attention to the talents told us nothing about the abilities underlying them. Maybe this last bull had a taste for blood? Or was it secretly the musk ox equivalent of a vampire?

“Well?” Mumu signed.

“Angry, sharp, iron, charge,” we signed back. “That’s what we saw in the leader’s spirit. Another is hiding his strength. The purple one is complicated. Something about blood and bursting.”

“I don’t know what that could be.” Mumu’s expression was sober when she gestured for us to withdraw.

We ran into Otwei on the way back. She gave a smirking nod in passing and signed, “They’re waiting for you.” The feeling inside her was nervous anticipation. She expected there to be fun ahead, but first she’d need to lure the oxen out into the open.

Two lines of stakes greeted Mumu and me at the hillside leading up to the ridge. The sharpened points were stained brown with poison; the scent was pungent and bitter. Hunters tested them to make sure they were solidly in the ground.

I settled in next to Tegen while Mumu went to report on what we’d found. Haol sat in meditation, his arrows across his knees. Teila bit her upper lip as she watched the tree line.

“Well?” Tegen signed.

“Two strays confirmed,” I said. “One similar to what we expected, the other unknown. There is a third that is strong-ish, but it was hard to tell by how much.”

“That’ll mean a change of plans, then,” he said.

And sure enough, he was right. Mumu came back and let us know that Kesa’s team was joining us in fighting the purple musk ox.

“Banan’s team will go first to draw the charge,” she said. “Then us, and then Kesa. Borba’s team will handle the one we’re unsure about.”

After that, it was just a matter of waiting for Otwei to do her job and lure the oxen into our trap. Yuki kept tabs on her and let me know when she was approaching the tree line. She had an almost fiendish excitement for the mayhem about to happen.

All along the ridge, the hunters were ready.

“Close now,” I said.

Haol drew his bow, and like a wave the others followed suit. Not every hunter could use magic, but there were enough that the qi swirled among them, caressing the arrows in anticipation of the many uses of Spiral Pierce.

I didn’t have the strength to hold my stickbow at full draw, but I was ready too, all my arrowheads coated with chishiaxpe poison. Strangely, the minty scent helped steady my nerves.

Otwei shot from the trees. She was Camouflaged, but I saw the colors blur and the grass part as she ran through them. The ground vibrated when a combined four thousand pounds of angry musk oxen charged after her.

The hunters waited until all of the animals had cleared the tree line. The air hummed with power and cracked with their release of the Spiral Pierce spells. A heartbeat later, a choir of twangs followed as the mundane arrows were shot, my own included.

I pulled a second arrow from my quiver, Dog’s Agility working to speed my hands and fingers. My eyes never left my target as I sent a second and third arrow downrange.

The oxen faltered. The enchanted arrows thunked into them, but the ordinary shots were a disappointment—the animals’ fur was thick enough to act like natural armor. Fortunately, there’d been enough poison to go around, the same stuff that’d been applied to the stakes.

The herd split. Three retreated, wobbling into the trees with their heads already drooping. The others followed the larger of the two alphas. He charged at us, his hooves thumping and his fur glowing with an iron light. He carved a path up the hill. The ground split, and the earth, the rocks, and the poisoned stakes were all shoved aside to clear a path for him.

“In,” Banan yelled, and the dolbecs on his team ran to take positions just below the ridge, directly in line with the alpha’s charge.

“In,” Mumu yelled, and our team followed as she ran toward where the purple one would breach the ridge. The hunters near our target withdrew to make room for us.

Behind me, I heard Kesa yell, “In.” Then, Borba shouted as his team moved into position.

The alpha’s charge hit the dolbecs’ shields, and the air shook. Metal crumpled, like the terrible sound of a car accident. The dolbecs crouched and angled their shields to deflect the alpha up and away. His hooves left the ground, and he fell on his side. Banan and Kuros were ready. They plunged their spears into him.

I lost sight of their fight when Mumu leapt in a blur to stab at the purple musk ox. The animal danced aside; it wasn’t enough to dodge the attack, but the resulting injury was light. Tegen swung an overhand blow and struck the ground with a bam. The ox had been too fast for him.

Haol was out of qi, so he switched to normal arrows. He aimed at the ox’s eyes and face to distract him and help Tegen and Mumu land their blows. Teila contributed arrows too, but everything was blurring around me too quickly to see where she’d hidden herself.

Dog’s Agility pumped through me, and the air rushed past as I stabbed at the purple one’s neck. He bucked away, his body spinning to kick back at me. I ducked and slipped aside. The ground was loose, though, and I lost my footing.

Careful!

The warning from Yuki came almost too late. The ox had swung around again, a bead of purple light between his horns. He shot it at me, and I rolled like a little kid down the hillside to avoid getting hit by it.

The purple bead struck the third musk ox below me. Borba’s team nearly had him down. They were just about to go for the kill, but then the musk ox started to expand. His face shriveled and his legs too, but the skin around his torso grew more and more taut the rounder and rounder he became. When the pressure became too much, he burst like a water balloon, except it was blood—a fountain covering everything for almost a dozen yards.

The blood was hot, and my nose and mouth filled with the taste of it. I looked back in horror at the purple musk ox, but he’d been distracted away by Kesa’s crew. They were taking turns dashing in and out to keep him occupied and lure him into the trees.

My team wasn’t visible, except for Tegen. He’d run ahead and was banging on a tree trunk with his spear to add to the distraction. I spotted Haol nearby, sending arrows at the purple musk ox. Both Mumu and Kesa’s teams were doing their best to keep the ox from facing the other hunters in case he shot a bead in their direction.

But where was Mumu? I glanced around and caught sight of her rising out of stealth to ambush the ox. I stood up and ran to join my team.

Arrows coated in Spiral Pierce shot past me. It was unnerving, but I was glad to see them; they meant the hunters who’d killed their targets had begun joining the fight against the two alphas.

I joined the circle harassing the purple one. Arrows, spears, and—holy hells—a spark of electricity arced from a hunter, causing the musk ox to stumble long enough for a couple of spears to jab at him and draw blood.

The purple ox spun and kicked. His beads flickered and shot out, but everyone dodged and trees shattered in our place. The trunks burst, sending splinters flying. The first one caught a hunter in the arm, but we all knew to avoid the wooden shrapnel after that.

Eventually, the beads stopped, and the ox’s movements slowed. We heard him panting. To be fair, we were struggling to breathe too, but we’d outlasted him. The honor of finishing him off was given to Mumu and Kesa. They stabbed him, one in the heart and the other in the neck at the same time.

By the time we got back to the ridge, the larger alpha had been downed as well. A quick consultation confirmed that all the musk oxen were dead, including those that had tried to flee earlier. The poison had done its job.

A first-aid station was set up, and I worked alongside those treating the injured: a twisted ankle, broken ribs, a wooden splinter the length of a dagger, a case of accidental poisoning, and the worst cases of all—the dolbecs who’d suffered from multiple broken bones trying to withstand the alpha’s charge. Apparently, those bones breaking had sounded like Spiral Pierce spells, which was how I’d missed them during the fighting.

The dolbecs were stoic about the pain. Moon didn’t even groan as he was being moved for treatment. He thanked me afterward, though, in Signed Diaksh. The whole time I’d known him, I’d never heard him speak. Not once.

Mumu had been keeping an eye on the Albei team during their stay in Voorhei, and she’d told me that Moon was likely their mule, eating the darklight that would otherwise go to waste. She assumed it was that straying from the Path that probably affected his ability to talk. The Hunter’s Lodge in Voorhei frowned on the practice—none of them were willing to stray—but desperation caused people to do all sorts of things.

Agath was more demonstrative than Moon. She wrapped me up in a huge hug once she could move again. And ruffled the hair on my head.

Afterward, I snuck in among the hunters dressing and quartering the animals, but the pulses of qi I sent through the carcasses didn’t reveal any obvious runes. Knowing glances were exchanged above my head; the hunters seemed amused by their Little Pot of Questions.

The silverlight was collected and held in safekeeping by Mumu for later distribution. The rest of the animals were put on travois for transportation back to the village. I worried about all the poison used, but the hunters explained that there was an alchemical solution to the problem. If so, our hunt meant we’d have plenty of meat to eat.

I made a point to ask for some of the qiviut—the musk oxen’s inner wool. The stuff was supposed to be an incredible insulator, eight times warmer than wool. I was sure Bihei would be able to make something super cozy and useful for the winter from it.

Finally, I joined Tegen in examining the remains of the musk ox hit by the purple bead. What was left of his face, his skin, his muscles, and organs were all dry and papery, like the water had been sucked from their cells and used to make the blood that caused the body to burst.

“Have you ever seen anything like that before?” I asked.

Tegen shook his head. “Blood powers are not unusual, but this is new to our lodge. It’s what makes animals that stray in random directions so dangerous.”

“That’s why we brought the whole lodge, then.”

“Yes,” Tegen said. “A hunter is always prepared.”

Fortunately, our preparations had been enough. It’d been a harrowing hunt, but we hadn’t lost anyone, a success by any measure.

28

City Games, Village Games

The lodge was noisy. People chatted, drank, and joked. There were even hunters with enough energy to roughhouse. It was all in good fun, though—a way to drain any leftover nerves from the earlier hunt.

I helped butcher the musk oxen, confirming for myself that there were no obvious spells to learn from them. Whatever they’d used to cast Charge, Iron Fur, and Burster was beyond my and Yuki’s ability to discern. What a disappointment.

Charge, at least, would’ve been cool. I wasn’t sure how Iron Fur would’ve worked on me, but there was a hunter spell called Collaut’s Hide. Maybe it’d do something similar for skin? As for Burster, it was a gruesome ability. Did I want to be the kind of man who exploded enemies from the inside? Well, maybe that’d be a little cool too.

The hunters worked together to move three large tubs full of water into the courtyard behind the lodge, and the meat and organs were run through them, one tub after the other. The water smelled and tasted medicinal. Tegen let me know that Alchemist’s Lodge sold a cleansing potion for poisoned meat. It was expensive, though, and was only brought out when there was enough to make it worthwhile.

I asked after the potion’s ingredients, but they were a trade secret. The process was fascinating, so I lingered to watch.

Afterward, the meat was taken away to the smokehouse. I was told I’d get my share later. It’d be a bigger portion, too, since I belonged to a team that had handled one of the more dangerous musk oxen. There’d be no financial bounty, though. These lodge-wide hunts were considered an obligation due to the land knight. A work tax, as it were.

Throughout, I watched, learned, and mingled, sticking around until everyone had left except for Inleio and my team. The lodge master had asked us to stay behind.

He gestured for us to sit. “I have news, but first the good: well done. Your sharp spears and swift arrows are the pride of Voorhei. You brought our hunters back safely, and for that, I am grateful.” Inleio’s expression turned somber. “What’s next is less pleasing: a messenger from Albei has arrived with confirmation that their Hunter’s Lodge had received the Anesthetic spell.”

“And?” Mumu asked. “What did the Grandmaster say?”

Inleio sighed. “She was vexed. Don’t misunderstand—the spell itself pleased her, but the Healer’s Lodge protested and said the spell should rightly belong to them. Our Grandmaster is attempting to negotiate, but the discussions are not going well, and she sees further difficulties.”

“Is this something that happens a lot?” I asked.

“We expected the healers to complain,” Inleio said, “but because the spell was found independently of them, we thought it would be difficult for them to deny us. The only question was how much we’d have to compensate them. But from what the messenger reported, the healers have reached out to their allies and are applying additional pressure on our Hunter’s Lodge.”

I frowned. “What’s their problem?”

Inleio explained: “The Healer’s Lodge made their approval of the Anesthetic spell contingent on a price increase for their services.” He clenched his fist. “It is ‘to make up for any potential losses.’ As if hunter lives can be counted in coins.”

Tegen grimaced. “This means they’ll likely oppose the Healing Water spell too.”

“I expect the discussions to break down completely,” Inleio said, shaking his head. “The Alchemist and Soldier Lodges have come to our aid, though the other lodges are arrayed against us in this. They take the healers’ side.”

“What if we bypass them completely and make the spell available to everyone?” I asked. “That way no one can control it.”

The suggestion surprised the other hunters. I’d be giving up the chance to profit from the spell, after all.

“Not many can cast mana spells,” Tegen said, considering the idea. “Only a few would truly benefit.”

“But there are hunters who could, right? As long as the spell was available.” I looked to Inleio for guidance.

“The problem is the other services the Healer’s Lodge provides,” he said. “Anyone learning Healing Water would be banned from accessing them. Moreover, their lodge wields great influence. The healers have saved the lives of many people—influential people—and they can make life difficult for anyone going against them.”

“So we could do it,” I said, “but the threat of retribution would scare people away.”

“That’s right. And what’s more, the person’s family and maybe even their whole lodge would also be punished.” Inleio sighed. “Fortunately, we were able to share the spell with our village before this happened. We, at least, will benefit.”

“Did you know this was coming?” I asked Inleio.

He sighed. “Yes and no. The lodges are jealous of their rights and responsibilities, but I was unaware that things had become this bad between them.”

Well, dang. I was looking forward to my rewards for the spells. “So what happens now?”

“We will have to wait to learn how the negotiations proceed.” Inleio cleared his throat and looked me in the eyes. “I want to be clear, though, that the events in Albei do not diminish your contributions here. That includes the lives you saved when you tricked the purple musk ox into targeting another of its herd.”

I snorted. “That’s not how it happened. I slipped and rolled down a hill. The attack flew over my head and hit the other ox by accident.”

“Nevertheless, lives were saved. That is a worthy contribution.”

Inleio looked at me with a strange intensity, like I was supposed to be understanding something left unsaid. He didn’t quite wiggle his eyebrows at me, but it was close.

Am I missing something? Wait… Ah. Oh. I see.

I must’ve been tired, because it took a moment to catch on. Inleio was inflating my participation in the hunt so that I could be rewarded—which made up for what was happening in Albei.

“I’m honored to be of service to the lodge,” I said, playing along.

“Good.” Inleio went to retrieve the lodge’s spell catalogs from his desk. Normally, they were kept in the room under the lodge, but he must’ve brought them up earlier to prepare for this moment. “In gratitude for the services you have provided to your hunt brothers and sisters, Eight, you are granted two spells.”

My team cheered. They patted me on the back and ruffled my hair, their joy spilling over.

Inleio watched the hunters, pride evident on his face. “Normally, we would celebrate with a feast, but given the delicate situation, we… can’t speak widely of tonight’s events. Your lodge brothers and sisters can know, but not many besides them.”

“Sure,” I said, grinning. “I understand. I’ll keep quiet.”

Inleio nodded. “I know you will. Now, I asked your team to stay, not only for them to hear the news from Albei, but also so they can advise you on your choices.”

That settled the other hunters down quickly, though it seemed everyone had an opinion on which spells I should pick.

Mumu kicked things off. “Eight’s ability, the one he calls one with the land, is very good, but not enough to handle enemies with strong senses. I recommend the spells Camouflage and Scentless Hunter. They will serve him well both when he is hunting with us and when he is out on his own.”

“I disagree,” Haol said. “He should take Scentless Hunter, yes, but also Spiral Pierce. His land is good enough for most hunts. He only needs to make up for where he lacks: hiding his scent and the weakness of his strikes.”

“The disagreement goes deeper than that,” Tegen said. “He should—”

“Actually,” I said, interrupting. “I wanted to mention this earlier, but I didn’t want to say anything until I was more practiced. I… uh… I already have a handle on Camouflage and Scentless Hunter.”

The room quieted, and the hunters turned to stare. I smiled, embarrassed. I really had meant to say something earlier—it was important for teammates to know each other’s abilities—but I’d been looking for an opportunity to surprise them.

Yeah, okay, this timing is pretty good. I felt my smile turn from embarrassed to mischievous. The look on their faces—the reactions were just as gratifying as I’d hoped.

It was Teila who broke the silence. She whooped and jumped up, grabbed my shoulders to shake me, and then danced around the seated hunters. The young girl went around twice before the adults were able to gather themselves enough for coherent speech.

Mumu sputtered. “You… you little—”

“When? How?” Tegen asked.

“When I took the blynx’s bones to the Glen.”

I didn’t like lying to my teammates, but I couldn’t exactly tell them about the uekisheile inside Otwei. Hopefully, making it seem like I’d learned the spells from studying the blynx’s remains was enough.

“But still…” Haol trailed off.

“Our Eight is a genius,” Mumu said, shaking her head. “A little devil and a pot full of questions, but still a genius.”

I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with getting the credit rightfully belonging to Yuki. “All right, let’s continue the discussion. Just know that I can become one with the land, have spirit eyes, and also know the Camouflage, Scentless Hunter, Healing Water, Anesthetic, Dog’s Agility, and Cold Snap spells.”

The hunters sighed together. Several shook their heads once more, and we began a long discussion.

There was consensus that Spiral Pierce would provide a critical boost to my being able to penetrate a target’s defenses. I’d also seen enough of the spell’s practical application to make that choice an easy decision.

The option for my second spell wasn’t nearly as obvious.

Spark was useful for creating opportunities. I’d seen it used on the purple musk ox, and the spell had caused the animal to momentarily stop defending himself. Plus, there was the undeniable attraction of being able to throw lightning. I had a thing for thunderstorms, after all.

Alas, I already had the Cold Snap spell for creating opportunities, and the lure of lightning wasn’t enough to overcome the need to bolster my defense. Dog’s Agility was great, but it wouldn’t protect me in situations where the enemy was faster than me. Like, for example, a blynx.

That left Collaut’s Hide and Iron Heart, which were the two hunter spells dedicated to defense. The first thickened the skin, while the second boosted the body’s resistance to damage as a whole. Tegen used both to good effect, and as he went into detail about them, I learned that Collaut’s Hide wasn’t compatible with Dog’s Agility—something about the way the qi flows interacted.

Anyway, that was how I ended up picking Spiral Pierce and Iron Heart.

With the new spells in hand, that meant I’d—once they were mastered—have two approaches to dangerous encounters. I could either:

Go full stealth and ambush with:

- One with the land
- Camouflage
- Scentless Hunter
- Spiral Pierce
- Poison from the chishiaxpe
- Spear or bow, but likely bow

Or warrior up with:

- Dog’s Agility
- Iron Heart
- Spiral Pierce
- Poison from the chishiaxpe
- Spear or knife, but likely spear
- Cold Snap
- Anesthetic
- Healing Water

In the ambush scenario, I’d rely on stealth and range for defense. In melee, I’d depend on Dog’s Agility and Iron Heart. And if I got hurt, I could use Anesthetic to fight through the pain and recover afterward with Healing Water.

Once my choices were made, the team demanded I show them my version of Camouflage and Scentless Hunter. They couldn’t teach me anything about the spells, because I hadn’t earned them through the lodge, but that didn’t stop the hunters from making observations aloud—things that just happened to hint at ways the spells could be improved. And since I was showing off my Camouflage, Haol did too. Then, the hunters started asking him general, roundabout questions about how he cast the spell.

Clearly, it was all for my benefit so that I could deepen my understanding of the magic. My teammates were annoyed by the nonsense coming out of Albei, so they’d decided to skirt the lodge’s rules for my sake.

The opportunity to study a second hunter using Camouflage was helpful. Neither Yuki nor I had been able to figure out how to include our gear in the spell’s effects, so this gave us a chance to compare Otwei’s use of the spell with Haol’s.

When Mumu saw me struggling, her questions became more pointed. She didn’t know the spell herself, but she’d grown up in the lodge. It was in her blood and bones, and her questions dug deep into the spell’s mechanics.

It was the first time I had ever seen Inleio frown, but he didn’t say anything—only gestured for Teila to accompany him a short distance away. I overheard him start the talk about the lodge’s purpose and how it should serve the people and not the other way around.

Partway through, Tegen left and came back with an armful of chicken skewers. He got a fire going and grilled them up, basting them with a fermented fava bean paste. It was tangy, herby, and delicious. Then we had tea, and Inleio taught Teila a new song, which reminded Mumu of a story of a talking bird who tricked hunters into falling off cliffs. After that, we compared Spiral Pierces, and Tegen showed me his Iron Heart.

By the time we were done, it was one in the morning. We all stumbled out of the lodge exhausted, but deeply satisfied.

The night air was brisk, cooling the sweat sticking to my skin. There wasn’t much of a moon, so the stars stood out in the sky. I took a moment to wonder at what the stonewater serpent had seen among them on the night of the solstice. To me, they looked like a blanket covering the sleeping village.

Inside, Yuki buzzed from all the new experiences, not to mention the spells. With a grin, I realized that there wouldn’t be any restful dreams anytime soon. We might as well practice spells on the way home, so we became one with the land, opened our spirit eyes, and wrapped ourselves in Camouflage and Scentless Hunter as we walked.

The qi looped through us and into our clothes, and it carried with it the intent of including our belongings in our understanding of ourselves—in the knowledge that our tools, weapons, and armor were a part of us and should be included by the spell’s effects.

Truly, we were blessed with good teammates. They’d shared their wisdom and knowledge so generously with us. And we put it to good use—the hints they’d given us earlier meant we could now hide our weapons, clothes, and armor inside our Camouflage spell.

The world teetered and swayed with every step, though. We’d also learned that evening that Dog’s Agility was incompatible with Camouflage, so we were forced to process the extra sensory information from our spirit eyes without the spell’s help.

Because of that, the qi nearly slipped from our grasp when we saw the outline of a Camouflaged Otwei sneaking out of Bihei’s longhouse. We quickly checked with the portion of ourselves inside her, but there was no sign of violent intent. She’d been bored waiting for something, so she’d used the time to search for clues to the location of the eilesheile. Not finding any, she’d stolen Bihei’s best pan and was planning to hide it in the neighbor’s yard.

Her thought: there was nothing better for curing a village of boredom than strife between neighbors.

We molded ourselves against a nearby wall. A cloud passed across what little moon there was, and we used the opportunity to sneak closer. She looked around, but didn’t see us. Then, she leapt over the low wall of the neighbor’s place. The pan was hidden under an old chair beside the front door.

Our body was tired, our mental reserves low. A long day had been followed by a long night, yet there was an undeniable thrill to testing ourselves against an experienced hunter like Otwei. There was also a desire within us to reflect her mischief back upon her.

We tasted our desire and found a lingering spite hidden within it, an unaddressed anger at Otwei for the danger she represented. A decision was made to follow and test ourselves further, but that would be all. Even though we wanted mischief, we would abstain. At least, for now.

Otwei wandered through the village. Here and there, she took something from a yard and placed the stolen item elsewhere. She stumbled across Haol and Mumu kissing outside his longhouse, but her annoyance at their intimacy was interrupted by Dena, Haol’s wife, poking her head out the front door and telling them to come inside out of the cold.

“Don’t you know how late it is?” Dena’s quiet voice asked. “Did you get a chance to eat? What happened at the lodge to keep you so late—”

The rest was lost to a closed door. Otwei was tempted to defecate in the garden, but it wasn’t worth the risk that Mumu or Haol might sense her or somehow track the dung back to her.

Further thoughts of mischief were interrupted when a stone hanging on a cord around her neck pulsed with warmth; it was the signal she’d been waiting for. We returned our consciousness back to our body and followed Otwei as she started to move more intentionally.

The village’s ghosts watched as we tailed her. Without Dog’s Agility, their forms tilted and distended, like looking at a person’s reflection in a fun-house mirror. Walking through the village with our spirit eyes open was like walking through an entire maze of those mirrors.

We snuck through the village maze—from where the longhouses were made of logs to the cluster of stone buildings at the village’s center where the wealthier residents lived. Where Ghitha lived.

Otwei took up position to watch his house. She, and we, made it just in time to see the door open and someone slip out. He paused in the house’s moon shadow to make sure there was no one about, then snuck away.

We tasted his spirit with our eyes and knew him to be Borba. What had he been doing visiting Ghitha’s longhouse? And so late at that?

We followed Otwei following Borba, along the paths to an unassuming longhouse near the village’s eastern wall. Borba slipped stealthily into his own home. Otwei stopped, then kept watch for another hour, and when she was sure he wouldn’t go out again, she went back to Ghitha’s house to meet with her team.

“How did it go?” The voice belonged to Banan.

“Easy. He went straight home.” Otwei fiddled with her hair. “I don’t think we have to worry about Borba having second thoughts. I’ll keep watch, though, just in case.”

“All the hunters are weak,” Ghitha said, “and they are in need of a strong hand to lead them. If my brother were alive and he was the lodge master, Borba would never have behaved this way.”

“What can he do?” Otwei asked, grinning. “You have him caught, sir, and can bend him as you will. There’s nothing he can do, not unless he’s willing to risk Inneioleia’s wrath.”

“Loyalty is an illusion,” Banan said. “The only truth is self-interest.”

Ghitha laughed, though the sound was grim. “And I have your self-interest well in hand, don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” Banan said. “Our agreement’s firm. We’re all going to be rich.” There was a pause while we heard him gulp from some drink. “Borba’s done well to convince the other hunters to participate in the kalihchi bear’s hunt. It was just the thing needed to force Inleio’s hand. I doubt the lodge master would have agreed to it otherwise, no matter how much he wanted our help with the musk oxen today. Now, we just need Borba to get that Eight to tell us what he knows about the eilesheile.”

“He’s just a boy,” Ghitha said. “Moderately talented, that’s all. Eventually he’ll slip, and we’ll have what we need.”

“And poor Borba,” Otwei said, grinning. “He’ll always be under our control. Now and forever. We can ask him to do anything, and he’ll do it. All because of a woman.” She turned to Ghitha, her curiosity rising. “Was Kiertie really that beautiful?”

A blotch we saw through Otwei’s eyes shifted. We realized it was Ghitha, and he said, “Yes.”

Otwei heard the pain in his voice, and she delighted in it. Not that she’d show it on her face. Not now. She’d tuck it away, though, and bring it out later for her enjoyment. Had Ghitha loved Kiertie too? Otwei hoped so. It would make the whole situation that much more delightful.

The rest of the conversation turned to the team’s plans for tomorrow, none of which impacted us. We’d learned what was important: Ghitha was blackmailing Borba and had used that influence to tip the lodge in favor of the hunt for the King of the Forest. What had Borba done to get him into this predicament?

There was no way to know. Not yet, anyway. From what we glimpsed from within Otwei, she burned with curiosity to learn the exact nature of Borba’s transgression too. All she knew was that it was related to Kiertie. If so, if it was something of the past—something shameful but no longer relevant—then maybe it didn’t matter to us?

A brief detour retrieved Bihei’s pan before we snuck into our longhouse. The family didn’t rouse as we undressed and slipped into bed. That night, we had intended to dream of Camouflage, Scentless Hunter, Spiral Pierce, and Iron Heart, but we spent it thinking instead.

29

An Interrogation in Two Parts

The meditation rooms at the Hunter’s Lodge were small, no more than closets, really. They were sparsely decorated, likely to reduce the number of distractions, but the doors were thin. I heard plenty of chatter coming from the other side as hunters arrived over the course of the morning to pick up their portions of the smoked musk oxen meat, drink tea with their comrades, and take care of any gear in need of attention.

I was supposed to be studying Spiral Pierce and Iron Heart—and in fact, their books were open in front of me. For their respective spells, they described the intent of the qi and its flow through the body, as well as the opportunities for the spells’ growth and common challenges. The books even included artifacts offering a taste of the qi. For Spiral Pierce, it was a splinter of wood the length and width of a dart. For Iron Heart, there was a bone disk.

My attention was only half on the books. The other was listening—listening and waiting. I had arrived early in the morning to make sure I had time to learn the spells, but also to make sure I didn’t miss—

“Is Eight around?”

That was Borba’s voice. He’d finally arrived.

A hunter answered: “I haven’t seen him. Maybe he went back into the wilderness?”

“Might still be asleep,” another replied. “I heard he was late leaving the lodge last night—”

I tuned out the rest and took a breath to settle my nerves. I covered the Spiral Pierce and Iron Heart spell books with a blanket—I didn’t want to get bogged down explaining how I had access to them—and brought out the one for Dog’s Agility.

Across from me, a portion of Yuki clung to the opposite wall, Camouflaged and invisible to the eye. We are ready.

All right, then. Let’s go. I opened the door and made a show of looking around. “Oh, hey, good morning, everyone. I thought I heard my name.”

The hunters laughed when they saw me. I must’ve looked like a gopher popping out of his hole.

“Eight, you were here all along!”

“Didn’t you know? He moved out of Biheila’s house and lives at the lodge now.”

“He’s always training, our Eight.”

“What are you studying now? Still working on the mystery of the blynx’s Blink?”

I waved off the hunters’ jokes. “No, no. I’m working on Dog’s Agility, and…” I pretended to scan the room, recognizing the hunters present, but the one I knew best among them was… “Borba, I wonder if I could ask for your help.”

He pointed to himself. “Me? But I can’t use magic.”

“I know. I just need another person to compare the flow of my qi against theirs.”

“Is that something people do?” Borba asked.

“It’s something our Little Pot does,” a hunter answered. “He wants to ask your qi a question!”

That caused another round of jokes, and I laughed along with the rest. When things calmed down, I said, “I’ll just be taking a peek at your qi. It shouldn’t hurt at all.”

“Sure,” Borba said. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you anyway. We didn’t get a chance to talk much after the hunt.”

Borba found a stray cushion and brought it with him. Fortunately, the meditation room could fit two people sitting across from each other, although we were close enough for me to notice the bags under his eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked. “You seem tired.”

Borba chuckled. “I was about to ask you the same question. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“There’s always something new to learn,” I said.

“True, true. And hard work pays off in the end. I wouldn’t be as successful a hunter as I am if that weren’t so.” Borba gave me a nod and a smile. “You can ask me any questions you have, Eight. About anything. My family’s talent is for hard work, and we have people in many different trades and crafts.”

“Thank you,” I said. “That’s good to know. For now, though, do you mind if I put my hand on your chest? I want to compare your qi to mine.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Borba said.

I ran qi from my palm into his chest. There was no pattern or intent other than to create a distraction. “Do you feel that?”

He shook his head. “Tingles a bit, maybe?”

We’ll start now, Yuki said, and the wall’s texture behind Borba shifted as their Camouflage spell adjusted for the movement down the wall.

Borba started to turn to see what had caught my interest.

“So,” I said, trying to get his attention again, “what do you think of the lodge’s plans to hunt the kalihchi bear?”

Thankfully, Borba turned back to face me. “I approve. The King of the Forest is a danger to the village and one that’s growing stronger every year. I don’t hold much love for Ghitha, but in this, he’s right.”

We’re on the floor now, and going in, Yuki said. We’ll enter through his waist.

“Will we be able to do it?” I asked. “The lodge already tried to hunt the bear and failed.”

Borba’s brows furrowed. “Not alone we can’t—we’re like babies before the King’s might. I’ve fought him before, you know, along with the lodge, and… and…” He paused to swallow. His hands had been on his knees before, but now he gestured, the movements jerky. “The King’s not someone any of us can face. The hunters from Albei, though, all of them are over Level 5 and talented. They can do it. You saw the giant javelina they caught, and then there was the musk ox alpha.”

Inside the lower dantian now, Yuki reported. Working our way up to the middle and upper dantians. Give us a minute to get there and settle in, and then you can start.

“How about you?” Borba asked. “What do you think about the King of the Forest?”

“I’ve seen him,” I said.

Borba looked surprised. “I didn’t know that.”

“It was during a storm. The lightning crashed all around him—through him—and he reveled in it. He rampaged through the forest and drove all the other animals from their territories.”

“He is a tyrant. But how did you avoid his attention?” Borba asked.

“I have places I can hide,” I said.

His heartrate spiked at the mention of hiding places.

“Oh,” Borba said. “Maybe you can share these hiding places with me? Just in case. One can never have too many fallbacks.”

“Sorry, my most helpful hidey holes are only big enough for me to fit into. You’re too big.”

He’s disappointed and searching for a way to bring up the topic of hidden places again. He doesn’t like talking about the kalihchi bear. The animal is a source of great fear.

I asked a question: “You mentioned that you didn’t like Ghitha, can I ask why?”

He feels distaste, fear, and anger. Guilt too. There’s a storm rising, disturbing his qi.

Borba’s feelings flickered across his face, but he got them under control and shrugged. “Ghitha is Ghitha. He is like his brother Woldec, their lives centered on their family above all else. Nothing has been good enough for them. Not the lodge and not Voorhei.”

“So you didn’t like Woldec?”

There is envy, hatred, and guilt once more. The storm swells.

“Yes. Not many did, but Woldec was part of Voorhei’s foundation. The rock upon which the village’s defense was built. Along with Sheedi and…” Borba trailed off.

His heartrate is rising. Hatred rising. Anger, hot, pulsing. Qi roiling.

“Grunthen,” I said, finishing the sentence.

“That’s right,” Borba said, clearing his throat. “Him.”

“You didn’t like him either?” I asked.

Borba shook his head. “Grunthen was another who only cared about himself and his family. He was even worse than Woldec and Ghitha. Much worse.”

“Thank you for answering my questions,” I said. “I’m always so curious. You don’t mind if we continue? It helps to pass the time while I compare our qi.”

He’s trying to control his emotions and hopes this experience will bring you closer together. He also feels distaste for what he has to do.

Borba took a deep breath. “I don’t mind. I’ve never done anything like this before, and I’m glad to help if I can.”

This is a truth.

“We’ve talked about Ghitha, Woldec, and Grunthen, but I’m also wondering about Kiertie.”

Surprise at the mention of her name, followed quickly by sinking despair. He feels guilty, empty, and… gutted.

Borba’s face went still. “That was a terrible loss, an avoidable loss. She shouldn’t have gone on that expedition to begin with, but she’d always been stubborn.”

“That’s right—you knew her from before she came to Voorhei. Mumu had told me that the two of you grew up in another village, Voorhoos.”

His heart is pained. Anguished.

“That’s right,” he said. “Her family is famous for their talent for divination. It isn’t strong enough for them to join the Diviner’s Lodge in Albei, but they were rich by village standards. Too good for the likes of people like me.”

“So you liked Kiertie?”

“No! What are you saying? We were similar ages, that was all. Her family was above mine. There could be nothing between us.”

He’s lying. Badly. An unrequited love turned to ashes.

“Ah, I thought maybe it was like a love story,” I said. “Did you know that I enjoy stories?”

“No,” Borba said, “but I’m not surprised.”

He’s wondering where you’re going with this. Focusing on controlling his emotions.

“I find stories fascinating,” I said, continuing. “They reveal so much. Anyway, quite a few stories focus on love—on love and revenge. I’d like to know… let’s pretend that you were in love with Kiertie and someone wanted to harm her. Would you protect her? Take revenge on her behalf if she was injured or killed?”

“No!”

Yes!

“I mean, she was someone I knew, so I’d want to see justice for her, but that’s all.”

Another lie. There’s a terrible guilt consuming him.

Borba pulled away, breaking the connection to my hand. “I think we’re done. I can’t stay any longer. There’s… there’s family work to attend to.”

A lie.

“I understand,” I said. “Thank you for the time you’ve given. It’s helped a lot. You don’t mind if I come find you again if I need more assistance?”

He’s uncomfortable. Guilt permeates his qi. He wants to get away from these questions.

“I don’t mind, though I may be busy. We have to prepare for the King’s hunt, after all.” He paused to think, his brow troubled. Reluctantly, he continued, “About the stories of love and revenge, it’s not good to listen to them too much. There are consequences the stories never explain.” He sighed. “I suppose that’s all. I’ll see you later, Eight.”

Borba then fled from the meditation room and the lodge, taking a portion of Yuki with him. I shut the meditation room door and closed my eyes.

Borba hurried through the village, and his greetings to his neighbors were brusque. That earned him some looks, but he knew he could mend those fences later. Right now, his gut ached.

The questions Eight asked had pierced through him as surely as any spear or arrow. It was almost like the boy knew what had happened and had intentionally goaded him, but that was foolish. As talented as Eight was, he was still just a boy.

Borba sealed the thought away—and the turmoil in his belly along with it. Hunting required a clear mind and a steady purpose. He’d continue to rely on those skills to see him through.

For now, there was work to be done, and Borba would find refuge in mending the strap on his backpack, weeding the garden, feeding the chickens and goats, and training his fighting forms. He’d been younger during the last hunt for the King of the Forest, and the experience had scarred him. He vowed to do better this time for his family, lodge, and village. He had so very much to make up for.

We didn’t learn anything new through the rest of the morning and afternoon, so I had Yuki watch Borba while I went back to Bihei’s longhouse. The kids had left a pot of porridge for me before heading out to work in the fields. I ate it, but didn’t really taste the food.

I liked Borba, and it upset me to suspect him in Grunthen and Bindeise’s deaths. The signs sure pointed that way, though, and Ghitha clearly knew something and was using the information to blackmail him. Was Borba the killer, or an accomplice? Was Ghitha also involved in the murders? Or had he somehow stumbled across Borba’s involvement and decided to use the information against him?

Hopefully tonight, once Borba went to sleep, we’d pull the answers from his dreams.

Kiertie was beautiful. There was no denying it.

When Ollie/Eight had encountered her zombie, the Status camera had said she was Comely. The talent was struck through at the time, but now, in Borba’s dream, we saw her young and alive: a woman who could have any villager she wanted.

Borba was one, briefly… until Kiertie eventually found a talented husband. The event wasn’t unexpected— her family demanded she marry well—but all the same, in the anguish of being separated, Borba fled Voorhoos for Voorhei.

He joined the Hunter’s Lodge and found success there. While he wasn’t as powerful as some of the other hunters, hard work was a friend to him. It helped him cultivate a steadiness that carried him along his Path to Perfection. The lodge recognized his efforts and made him a team leader.

Borba learned to be content—until Kiertie appeared at his door one day, this time a widow with a daughter in tow. Her comeliness had only grown over the years, becoming more refined with age, and his heart surged. His words came out all tangled; he felt like he’d been struck by the kalihchi bear.

There was a moment of fleeting hope, quickly crushed. She’d tracked down Borba for his knowledge, not his company. In her pouch was a map, and she said she needed the expertise of strong hunters to find the treasure to which it pointed. Borba was too ordinary, but surely he knew others who could help?

Hating himself, Borba pointed her at Woldec, the strongest in the lodge.

Kiertie and Woldec… none could deny they were a match. She saw herself in him, and he in her. Their heads huddling together became a common sight within the lodge.

Borba’s longing had never died. Being near Kiertie was both bliss and bane. Yet, he kept his turmoil hidden. While he lived and died with every word she spoke, he continued to support the wellbeing of his family, lodge, and village. He was an imperfect man, and the Path to Perfection was long and arduous.

So, when Kiertie asked for help in finding the eilesheile, Borba felt honored. He even agreed to keep his participation a secret from his team.

Borba’s role would be to maintain a fallback position for the expedition near the sugar maker’s fortified house in the forest. He would watch over the supplies and be ready to assist in case of trouble. The expedition’s goal was to sneak past while the King of the Forest hibernated, but a hunter was prepared for all eventualities. The sugar maker was a cranky old man, yet if there was trouble, he’d be obligated to take them in behind his walls.

On the day of the expedition, Borba waited at the fallback with his heart in his throat. Morning turned into afternoon, and afternoon into evening. Instead of easing, his nerves grew more and more taut with worry for Kiertie and her daughter Biaka’s safety. Wrapped in a cloak to protect against the winter cold, he waited into the deep hours of the night.

A sound at the sugar maker’s gate roused him. Had the expedition gone there directly? Had they returned without him seeing?

Borba rushed between the trees and through the gate. He found a panicked Grunthen alone. The skin on his face was blistered red. His clothes smelled of smoke and char.

Where were Kiertie and Biaka? Woldec and Akbash?

Grunthen didn’t know. He’d left them behind.

The King of the Forest had unexpectedly awoken as they’d been sneaking past. The air had shaken with rage at the hunters trespassing in his cave. Lightning had splashed against the walls, too much for Grunthen’s talent to handle. He had run, while the others were blocked by the King’s bulk and forced to retreat deeper into the cave.

The coward had left them behind, yet he made excuses and stuttered the explanation for his cowardice. If he’d stayed and fought, the village would have lost two element-touched instead of one. Woldec’s loss was unfortunate. And the others, including Kiertie, didn’t matter. They weren’t real hunters, after all. Grunthen’s survival was more important than theirs.

A wave of anger overcame Borba, turning his vision red.

He was an ordinary hunter, one who only knew how to work hard. Nothing he did could ever compare to Woldec or Grunthen’s feats. His lack of magic and mediocre talents would forever keep him outside the consideration of someone like Kiertie.

All Borba had were the skills he’d trained, which was how—as Grunthen turned to leave—he was able to step silently behind and draw his knife without the other hunter noticing. It was also how he knew to stab behind the kidney and immediately follow up by drawing the knife’s edge across Grunthen’s sputtering throat.

It was impossible for Borba to kill the King of the Forest—or save Kiertie—but he could avenge her death.

The courtyard was still. Borba only heard himself panting, his mind spiraling. Rage spun through him, but panic began to blend with it, as well as the realization of what he’d just done. Two of Voorhei’s element-touched were now dead, one by his hand.

And Kiertie was also dead. Horror choked him.

Borba ran, and panic took him through the forest, unthinking. Where was his steadiness? Gone. Gone and running mindlessly. Except, not completely—an impulse pointed him toward the kalihchi bear’s cave to throw himself at Kiertie’s killer and die alongside her.

His steps slowed; his breath came hard. The fear within him was still strong, and Borba realized there was also a desire to yet live. To save his family from the grief of his death and atone for his wrongdoing. To do so, though, he’d have to hide his crime. Borba would do no good to his family, lodge, or village if he were exiled in retribution for Grunthen’s death.

He turned back. There was cleansing fire in the expedition’s supplies. It could be used to dispose of Grunthen’s body. But where to put the remains? Voorhei’s hunters were skilled, and some had uncanny talents.

Borba grappled with the problem, but it was solved for him. Time had given him the space to think and wonder about the sugar maker, but when he went looking, the old man was gone. The compound was empty of life.

There was no reason for the sugar maker to be out in the middle of the night. Had he died among his maple trees? That wouldn’t have been a surprising fate. Being out in the forest alone was foolish for someone who wasn’t a hunter.

Borba wasn’t one to ignore good fortune, even when it came amidst tragedy. He placed Grunthen’s body in the sugar maker’s bed and set the cleansing fire on his chest. It should appear as if the sugar maker had died in a fire. There would be no sign of Grunthen anywhere.

A cold sweat soaked Borba’s back as he watched the flames rise. He wanted to scream in anguish, but a hunter’s discipline required silence in the forest. Many times he had to wipe his eyes clear.

The forest let him be, almost as if it knew what he’d done and had blessed his actions. Or perhaps it was mocking them. Like it knew the village was weaker now, and there’d be time later to take advantage of it.

The passage home was a blur. Safe in his bed, he tossed and turned all through the rest of that night, not sleeping at all. Then, the next morning, Ghitha was at his door. The man’s eyes were dead. Somehow, he knew everything.

30

A Day in the Life

“Is there something wrong, Zasha?” Aluali looked with concern at my bowl, which was still half full. “Do the dumplings not taste good?”

He’d made them with Bihei’s help, the two waking early to assemble the food from shredded smoked musk ox meat and acorn flour. The dumplings were served in a bowl of soup made from bones that’d been left to simmer overnight.

“They’re delicious,” I said. And it was true—the dumplings were rich and nourishing, full of umami.

I took another bite, and he smiled with relief. The quiet meal livened with talk of his and Billisha’s plans for the day. The moment my thoughts strayed and my spoon slowed, though, Aluali would glance my way. I needed a distraction to keep him from worrying about me.

“Actually, there is something you can help me with,” I said.

That got the kids’ attention right quick, and I explained my idea for a pair of animal-handling gloves studded with bone. Even as preoccupied as I was with what I’d learned from Borba’s dreams, it didn’t mean I was willing to put the rest of my plans on hold. I was still determined to catch a blynx.

Bihei showed me examples of the hides she had on hand, while the kids talked about cutting and shaving some of the uncooked musk ox bones down into small squares. I thought the bones were too thick, but the kids wanted to test them. They’d try it out, and if the ox bones didn’t work, they’d look into other options.

That made me smile. So enterprising, these children. They were thrilled when I told them I planned to stay a couple of extra days in the village.

Mornings in Voorhei always hummed with activity. The villagers fed their chickens and collected the eggs. Goats were milked and taken to pasture. Children ran to the wells for water, and their parents scolded them for spilling too much on the way back.

My own share of errands that morning was a bit more out-of-the ordinary, and took me towards the village center. I ran into Kesa’s team there. They had instructions to head out into the forest to scout for an advantageous location for the kalihchi bear’s hunt. Sure, the Albei team had a plan, but Voorhei’s lodge had its own way of doing things.

Today, it was Kesa’s team’s turn. Tomorrow, it would be Borba’s. And so on.

Thinking about Borba, I sighed. I hadn’t known Grunthen, so his murder didn’t mean much to me. Intellectually, I knew his death had been unjust, yet it was hard to feel much sympathy. By all accounts, the man was an egoist and a jerk.

Borba, on the other hand, was well-liked by everyone. His fellow hunters appreciated his willingness to work hard for the good of the lodge and the village. The only problem was that he wasn’t as talented as others—certainly not as talented as Grunthen.

I wondered… if the village had had the opportunity to trade out ordinary-but-decent Borba for element-touched-but-jerk Grunthen, would they? My suspicion was that the answer would be yes.

Talents meant a lot to the people of Voorhei. They drove people’s choice of profession, who they married, and their overall value to the community. With my outrageous number of talents, I benefited from this system, but I also recognized there were others who weren’t as lucky—people who were relegated to basic farm labor because of their mediocre talents.

In a way, Ghitha was a victim of this culture too. His family was prized for being Earth-Touched, but when he’d showed no signs of developing the talent, he’d been relegated to taking care of the household, even though he possessed talents that would’ve made him a decent hunter. If I recalled correctly, he had the Methodical, Soft-Walker, and Even-Tempered talents.

Yuki felt compelled to comment: Ghitha is a jerk too.

Yes, but justice shouldn’t depend on who we like and don’t like.

But it does, Yuki said. In your old world—

As an ideal, I said, interrupting. The ideal of justice.

But you don’t believe in blind justice, Yuki said. We’ve seen it in your memories.

That’s true, I said. Context matters, but context shouldn’t include things like likability or having things in common.

Yuki ruffled through my memories. What about a crime of passion? Like Borba killing Grunthen because of his role in Kiertie’s death? Is that context?

I shook my head. I’ve never been comfortable with the whole idea of crimes of passion. Seems to me it rewards a person for losing control.

So what context should justice have?

I walked through the village, mulling over Yuki’s question. The best example I can think of is an abused spouse killing their partner: when they can’t take it anymore and they don’t see any other way out. Or self-defense, that’s an obvious one.

This situation—Borba’s situation—is nothing like that, Yuki said.

“No,” I muttered aloud. “It’s not.”

Looking up, I noticed that we’d reached Ghitha’s house. Unlike the village’s longhouses, it was two stories tall and built from quarried stone. The double doors were white oak with brass handles, and there were green-tinted windows to let in the light.

I had been on my way to the village’s smithy but needed to detour by the house first. Whether I liked him or not, there was enough evidence to justify an investigation of his qi. No, I needed to call it what it was: an invasion of his body in order to eavesdrop on his thoughts.

I joined with Yuki as we walked past, admiring the house’s construction. The walls and windows would likely block our entry, and the quality of their workmanship was good. We noted the chimney, though, and the keyholes in the doors. Both should provide opportunities for ingress.

We stopped in the shadow of Ghitha’s neighbor’s house to leave a section of the uekisheile’s body behind. It stretched us thin; any more separations and we’d compromise the integrity of Yuki’s intelligence. Their current limit appeared to be one main body and three subsidiary bodies. There were now portions of us within Otwei and Borba, and soon to be Ghitha.

Yuki and Ollie/Eight unmerged, and I continued on my way to the smithy. Although, there was one more stop along the way: the village’s pyramid.

So you can’t go through walls? I asked.

It depends, Yuki said. If there are holes or cracks, our tendrils can squeeze through, or we can use our qi transformation. Otherwise, the intent of the walls blocks us.

How is that different from entering people? I asked. You don’t seem to have any problems with that.

Yuki’s qi swayed, the equivalent of shaking their head. It’s the same. If an animal is completely encased in their defense—with armor, fur, or carapace—then we’d have trouble entering into their qi space. Fortunately, most creatures need to breathe, eat, see, hear, reproduce, or defecate, so there are usually soft places to attack. The only difficulty is if an animal has powerful qi. In that case, it’s possible that they will resist even if it’s through a wound or soft spot.

The thought boggled me. I have a hard time imagining many creatures having more powerful qi than you.

There are, Yuki said with a shiver. The kalihchi bear, for example, when he first found the Red Room. He was too big to fit through the passage, but he pawed at the eilesheile to get what he could. We thought at the time that easy prey had come, but we were wrong. Very wrong. His qi rebuffed us, and he sent lightning into the room. So much of the eilesheile burned, it took months to recover them.

“And their parasitism didn’t affect him?” I asked, surprised.

Not as far as we could tell, Yuki said. The bear ate as much of the eilesheile as he could reach, yet appeared unaffected.

“And that’s why you were so afraid of his qi when we came across it in the forest.”

He visited often, Yuki said. Always trying to reach farther and farther into the Red Room. And then one day, he stopped.

I realized that I’d started speaking aloud, so I looked around to make sure no one had seen me. It was too easy to get distracted talking to Yuki. Fortunately, the villagers nearby were focused elsewhere. I started my climb up the pyramid steps. A couple were on their way down, and they nodded as they passed by.

I nodded back, then continued the conversation with Yuki. That’s because Woldec sealed the way in his fight against the bear.

Yes, the qi intent of the wall he built is very strong.

Not that it did him and Kiertie any good, I said.

No, but it saved the children, Akbash and Biaka, Yuki said. At least until a chliapp lion got them.

The pyramid was the tallest building in Voorhei. The style reminded me of the ruins at Chichen Itza in Yucatan. Similar to the Temple of Kukulkan there, the exterior of Voorhei’s pyramid consisted of a series of square terraces with a stairway up to the enclosure at the top.

From the top of the pyramid, I saw across the whole village, all the way to the walls. From the communal oven nearby came the smell of tamales. Well, they probably weren’t tamales exactly, but they sure smelled like it.

Down below, people went into and out of the Farmer’s Lodge. Meanwhile coming from the Hunter’s Lodge’s courtyard, I heard the thunk of arrows hitting their targets.

Inside the pyramid’s enclosure, a stone spiral staircase led down. It was just wide enough for one person, but was studded with alcoves for people to pass each other if necessary. The room at the bottom smelled of ozone. It was where the village’s dasekua, its life stone, was kept.

The life stone was the heart of Voorhei, the most sophisticated magical tool in the village. The villagers fed it their mana, and in return the stone produced blessings for everyone within its boundary—fertility, health, protection, growth, and a stronger connection to the World Spirit.

Around the room, ramps led to different parts of a larger underground complex: storage for food, a cistern for water, and shelter in case the village was overrun. The spirit examination room was also down here, as well as the world speaker’s residence.

I raised my hands, palms facing the life stone, and donated the equivalent of ten points of mana to the village. Most of the energy would be used to power the village’s blessings, but a portion would be set aside for emergencies.

I had asked Sheedi about it. Apparently, not every village could afford a life stone, but Voorhei was relatively wealthy. The spirits of the land were friendly for the most part, the city of Albei was close by, and several talented families lived here.

In many ways, I was quite lucky to have landed nearby. Well, surely luck had nothing to do with it.

Thank you, Diriktot, I thought.

Yes, thank you, Diriktot, Yuki said. For bringing Ollie/Eight to us.

The smiths—two husbands and a wife—worked the forge, while one of their sons measured me for new chainmail, a hauberk extending down to my knees. As fond as I was of the patchwork shirt I’d made in my first days in this world, it was time for an upgrade. The hunt for the King of the Forest was only four weeks away, and I needed to be ready. The price was an astounding five antaak, the equivalent of almost three years of peasant labor.

There was no way I had that much money, even after selling the bandit gear and trade goods to Ghitha, but Mumu agreed to lend me the rest. It was an investment, she’d said, in a money-making talisman named Eight. Well, given the riches the eilesheile represented, I didn’t blame her for thinking that way.

The smiths’ son was in charge of negotiating the price, and when things heated up between us, one of the fathers intervened. Fortunately, we were eventually able to reach a deal: the price would stay the same, however, the smiths would add a helm, a new spear, and a number of tools, including a shovel, a wood ax, two hammers, iron nails, two different saws, a plane, and an adze.

I’d expected to get a bump in my Barter skill from it being such a good deal, but no such luck. So, I handed over two antaak’s worth of coins, and told them they’d get the other three from Mumu directly—they knew she was good for it.

My old patchwork shirt and I had been through a lot together, and when the smith saw I was reluctant to part with it, he offered to include steel from it in the new armor. “We grow,” he said, “and so our tools should grow with us.” Apparently, he was as sentimental as I was.

Speaking of growth, part of the deal also included the sacrifice of silverlight from five deer to the new armor. That would be enough for the chainmail to reach Level 1.

Amazing stuff, silverlight. It helped any and everything become a better, stronger, purer, more powerful version of itself. I’d noticed the effect on my bow in the aftermath of the spirit journey to release my mana.

I’d killed a spirit tree monster along the way, and its silverlight had spilled over me and my bow, which is how I’d reached Level 1. My bow had too, although I didn’t know it at the time. All I’d noticed was that the bowstave and the draw had smoothed out.

According to the smith, there were two ways to enchant items. The city way involved rituals to etch magic runes into the item. The process was intricate, time-consuming, and required a lot of study. The village way was simpler—all one had to do was give silverlight to the item in question. Anyone could do it. They only had to be willing to sacrifice their own growth in exchange for the item’s growth.

For the record, we’d be buying the silverlight for the new mail from the Hunter’s Lodge. Also for the record, it was possible to grow powerful items by feeding them darklight. The hitch was that they’d be cursed, and the smith didn’t approve of the practice. He told me that he’d seen a cursed spear once and that had been enough for him to know that he’d never torture a weapon or set of armor that way. Ever.

Between the measurements, the story telling, and the negotiations, I was there for a good two hours. We also talked about ways to reduce the amount of noise the armor would make, and settled on running thin strips of hide between the links to keep them from clinking against each other.

By then, the other husband and wife were done with the work they’d been doing, so they invited me to a meal with the rest of their family. Commissioning a set of mail was a big deal, and they wanted to celebrate.

Afterward, stuffed full of braised goat, roasted blue potatoes, and greens, I waddled home.

I caught Bihei just as she was heading out to the fields after her lunch. The kids had run ahead, anxious to get their work done early so they could start on the animal-handling gloves. They’d left stew and dumplings for me, but I couldn’t eat another bite.

Bihei looked amused at my state, which made for a pleasant development. The shadows at the back of her eyes had started to dissipate—the young widow was becoming more settled the longer Billisha and Aluali stayed with her. She was, of course, still haunted by the loss of her spouses and children, but the weight of their deaths was counterbalanced by the new lives residing in her longhouse.

Well, I understood how bright Billisha and Aluali could be, and how they filled an empty space. I smiled, and Bihei smiled back, the expression reaching her eyes. She wished me well, and left for the fields with a wave.

I watched her go and marveled at people’s capacity to live on. I’d done it. Mostly. Bihei was starting to do it. Even Ghitha was doing it—the kalihchi bear hunt and the search for the Red Room were likely his way of moving forward.

The question of his involvement in Grunthen’s and Bindeise’s murders continued to niggle at me, pestering my thoughts no matter how much I tried to distract myself. I’d learn the answer tonight, though, once Yuki had a chance to infiltrate Ghitha’s house and invade his body. Any speculation before then would be useless.

So, I kept myself busy the best way I knew: training. I worked on my new spells in particular, and the footwork for the spear forms. Partway, Sheedi stopped by to arrange a visit to the Glen for the people who would be building the shrine.

Apparently, it was a family enterprise, and the family heads wanted to get the lay of the land first, as well as mark the trees they’d likely need for construction. Then, once the kalihchi bear hunt was complete and the forest hopefully more settled, the whole family would head out to fell the trees and begin construction. I’d do my part by liaising between them and Ikfael, and because of that Sheedi handed me an eltaak as the first installment on my wages.

Huzzah! I’m not broke anymore. Just fifty-nine more and I’ll be debt free.

After finishing her tea, Sheedi left, and I continued working up a heavy sweat in the afternoon heat. I started mixing spirit eyes into the steps—trying to overcome the disorientation without resorting to Dog’s Agility—and I noticed some of the village’s ghost dogs stopping by to watch. Ah, Bindeise sat on the ground nearby too. He was petting a couple of the dogs beside him.

I grabbed a towel to wipe my face and neck, moving slowly so that the world didn’t tilt too much around me. Well, it didn’t work—the world still spun—but I somehow managed in spite of it. I was able to walk back and forth across the garden without tripping or falling once. My body and senses were slowly, very slowly becoming accustomed to the extra sensory information that came with the land after my encounter with the Deer God.

I nearly tripped when a notification surprised me.

Spirit Magic has increased from 1 to 2.

Spirit Arts has increased from 5 to 6.

I’d gotten my first rank in Spirit Magic practicing the Grace spell, and here was the second gained quickly after. As for Spirit Arts—

Huzzah! Yuki said, interrupting, their qi bursting like fireworks.

Huzzah indeed, I said, smiling at their antics. And why not? It felt good to have the hard work I’d been doing recognized. Plus, given how the two skills increased at the same time, I now had evidence they were connected.

I looked over the rest of my Status and realized it’d been a while since the last time. I’d fallen out of the habit, because I no longer felt the need to fret over my ‘build’ like I had before. In fact, to call anything a build was misleading, since doing so implied picking from a series of predetermined skills and abilities for a specific character outcome. That just didn’t happen in this world. Instead, the Status merely reflected where I’d been investing my time and energy. It was descriptive rather than prescriptive.

Instead of trying to min-max my way through life, I was better off with teachers who could show me the way. The only real game-like choice to be made was where to apply the free attribute points whenever I leveled, and I was pretty sure that it was just a shortcut for directing silverlight within me.

From my conversations with Sheedi, Inleio, and Tegen, I’d learned that the level-up experience was similar for everyone, but that the particulars differed. A variety of senses were involved, but almost everyone also had a deep sense of accomplishment—a feeling of power spilling over and an innate understanding of how to direct that power toward where to grow next. That feeling was understood to be silverlight overflowing from the level-up and becoming available to be applied to the body, mind, or spirit.

I hadn’t sensed anything like that when I leveled, but that could’ve been because I had the phone acting as an intermediary. Or maybe it was because I hadn’t grown up paying attention to the internal signals from the World Spirit.

Still, I wouldn’t give up my phone for anything. While everyone had a general sense of their own Status, and it could be made somewhat visible through spirit readings, no one else had things laid out quite so clearly as they were for me. At least, I hadn’t heard of anyone with a talent or ability like it.

Hmm... choosing where to focus attribute points can impact milestones, which in turn can affect what talents a person develops. That’s actually pretty game-like. And a regular review of my Status is useful for charting my progress. I really should do it more often. I’ve just been so tired at the end of most days. Or distracted and preoccupied, although I’ve had good reasons. So, where do I stand now?

Eight (Hidden Status, Oliver Michael Sandoval)

Path of the Young Forester 3

Age

8

Silverlight

823

Soul Marks

- God Touched
- Spontaneous Formation
- Memories of Another World
- Mana Door
- Way of the Hunter

Attributes

Strength

8 (9)

Constitution

10

Agility

9

Intelligence

15

Wisdom

15

Spirit

15

Charm

11

Luck

13

Body Power

13

Qi

35

Mana

21

Talents

- Jack of All Trades
- Talent Scout
- Qi Sensitive
- Uncanny Tracker
- Multilingual
- Enduring
- Spirit Hunter

Blessings

- Diriktot (Fallen God of Order)
- Ikfael (Spirit, Temporary)
- Helen Miriam Sandoval (Spirit)

Curses

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*)

Skills

Artisan

- Appraisal 5
- Construction 8
- Woodworking 8

Domestic

- Cooking 6

- Repairs 6

Magical

- Aeromancy 4
- Hydromancy 4
- Nature Magic 5
- Qi Body 9
- Qi Body Arts 6
- Spirit Magic 2

Martial

- Archery 9
- Knife Arts 3
- Logistics 11
- Marksmanship 6
- Spear Arts 6
- Strategy 5

Mercantile

- Accounting 12
- Administration 12
- Barter 5

Scholarship

- Biology 5
- Chemistry 4
- Diaksh 7
- Diaksh, Signed 6
- English 13
- Nonverbal Communication 6
- Numeracy 8
- Physics 4
- Spanish 8

Social

- Gaming 12
- Relationships 9
- Storytelling 10

Spiritualism

- Meditation 9
- Spirit Arts 6
- Taoism 8

Survival

- Caves 3
- Forest 9
- Ocean 3
- Stealth 8

I’d gathered 823 silverlight to date, which meant I had another 1,427 to go until Level 4.

My Strength was in the process of increasing from 8 to 9, and the rest of my attributes appeared to be holding.

My improved relationship to Yuki was reflected in the condition Occupied (Evolving*). Evolving to what, we weren’t exactly sure.

The obvious next step was a full symbiotic relationship, but we didn’t know what that involved or the next steps to get there. After the missteps we’d taken with each other, though, we were okay with going slowly and figuring things out as we went.

As for my talents, Inleio and the village leadership would be stunned to know I had seven in total. They’d also likely think they’d lost their minds if they saw the full, hidden list of my skills, and not just the ones from my previous life, either.

My magical, survival, and language skills were rapidly developing. The only laggard had been my Spear Arts skill. After some quick early gains, I’d found that progress depended on burning the forms into muscle memory. That meant practice, practice, and more practice. But with everything I needed to train, I hadn’t been getting as much time as was required, even with my attempts at integrated martial arts.

Hmm… l should devote more time to sparring. Maybe I can head over to the lodge to see who’s around? Yes, let’s do that.

By the time I got back from training at the lodge, I was exhausted. A wet noodle. A bedraggled rat fished from the salty, sweaty ocean barely hanging on to his spear. Bihei and the kids met me at the door, and I swear they all sighed simultaneously, perfectly in time with each other.

They helped me clean up, fed me, and put me to bed. I didn’t sleep, though, no matter how much I wanted to. There was still work to be done.

The day had passed and night had fallen, so the villagers were all in their homes. The way was clear for the uekisheile outside of Ghitha’s house to move.

31

Broken Dreams

Kiertie was beautiful. There was no denying it. And she’d used her beauty like a knife—to stab into the heart of Woldec, Ghitha’s beloved brother.

“Is this the same woman?” I asked. “She looks different here than in Borba’s dream. Colder. More cruel.”

Since we were inside Ghitha’s dream, Yuki sat on my shoulder in the shape of a pink fairy. Their voice was musical, reminiscent of chimes. “He didn’t like Kiertie. That influenced his perception of her.”

“I know people see what they want,” I said, “but this really drives the point home. She looks almost like a stereotypical villain.”

In the waking world, a portion of the uekisheile had snuck into Ghitha’s house and infiltrated his dream. It was something that we were becoming uncomfortably good at. For Borba, we’d been merged, but with Ghitha, we were able to watch side-by-side as his memories played out before us.

Woldec’s wife had died two years ago of a fever. The last of the family’s elders followed a year later due to old age. It was only the two brothers left after that. And Akbash too, of course, but Woldec’s son was still at the cusp of full adulthood. He didn’t have power or influence yet.

No, the two brothers were finally free to chart their own path.

They’d always been close. Woldec had taught Ghitha the ways of the hunter even after the family elders had pushed the younger brother into the Merchant’s Lodge. None of them had recognized Ghitha’s talents. None of them appreciated Woldec’s insight and burgeoning leadership skills.

Nor had the Hunter’s Lodge. That damn Inneioleia refused to acknowledge Woldec’s greatness. The  lodge master was jealous and conspired to weaken him and the family just enough to keep them down but useful.

Ghitha had plans for the family’s return to greatness, and with that rediscovered influence he’d replace Koda as the village head and install Woldec as master of the Hunter’s Lodge’s. All those who disrespected them would be banished. The reeve and the world speaker would naturally understand the brothers’ superior judgment, and the village would prosper under their joint leadership. That had been the plan, until Kiertie had come along.

Her beauty beguiled Woldec. She displaced Ghitha within the family and brought her own plan: a map with the location of a cave full of eilesheile. It’d be a quicker path to wealth and power, but dangerous. Too dangerous. Kiertie came from a family of diviners, though, and she had convinced Woldec of her plan’s success—leaving Ghitha to bring it to fruition.

He’d always been the one to meticulously plan his brother’s hunts, and he spared no expense this time. Ghitha purchased new spears and axes, commissioned candlestones for the whole team, and arranged for the biggest expense of all: their insurance, Grunthen.

Grunthen was an ass. He strutted around the village and had the gall to see himself as Woldec’s equal. As if being Lightning-Touched was the same as being Earth-Touched.

Ghitha’s family had built the village’s pyramid and walls. Meanwhile, Grunthen’s family were nothing more than jumped-up rabble—moderately useful during the Long Dark, but that was all.

Speaking of rabble, Woldec would also need someone to watch the baggage and secure a path for retreat, just in case.

Borba wasn’t worth the hairs inside Woldec’s nose, but he was smitten with Kiertie and therefore cheap to hire. All Ghitha had to do was have her ask, and the hunter practically leapt to volunteer for the expedition. Watching Borba’s antics, it was the first time Ghitha had smiled in months. Not that it lasted. Every day of planning was another day closer to the expedition’s departure.

And when that day finally came, Ghitha couldn’t contain his anxiety. Woldec had gone on many dangerous hunts before, but the King of the Forest was king for a reason. The Hunter’s Lodge had tried to kill him three times in the past, and each time had been a miserable failure.

Ghitha’s attempts to reassure himself also failed. Grunthen and Borba weren’t reliable. No one except Woldec was reliable in Ghitha’s eyes.

Even-Tempered almost all his life, Ghitha didn’t know how to handle the discomfort: the shortness of breath, the nausea, and the stink of fear. Not for his own life, but for his brother’s. So many had died to the King of the Forest in the past. So many bore scars from those hunts. The whole day, Ghitha worried that even the powerful Woldec might die.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself. Under cover of approaching night, Ghitha left the village and entered the darkening woods. Every trick his brother had taught him, every secret pried from the Hunter’s Lodge, helped guide him onward, unseen and unheard.

Ghitha found the baggage abandoned, and panic flashed through him. For a moment, he believed his fears had been realized. But there were no signs of struggle or retreat. Borba was likely squatting behind a tree somewhere. Yes, that was surely it. Just in case, though, Ghitha searched the area.

Was that Grunthen’s voice?

Ghitha followed the sound to the nearby sugar maker’s compound, where the gate was open and Grunthen was saying something impossible, something inconceivable about… about… about...

The dream world shook, threatening to come apart at the seams.

“Ghitha’s tossing and turning in his bed,” Yuki said. “We’re trying to calm his qi, but it rages like a storm, even more than Borba’s had.”

“I’m not surprised. We’re watching one of the worst moments of his life.”

“There’s a thorn piercing through his memories,” Yuki said. “The dream won’t go past it.”

“Can we skip over?”

“Like moving a stuck record needle? We’ll try…”

Ghitha’s hands clenched, blood dripping from his palms, but there was no outlet for his rage. Grunthen was already dead. Borba had served a use after all. He’d stabbed the coward in the back before running off into the forest.

There was no one else left in the family now. Ghitha was alone, with no one to bring him hides and meat and bones to trade. He was a stump, a family member without the family’s talent, and what good was a stump without the rest of the body? None.

The family would finally fall, and it was Ghitha who’d be blamed.

So lost was he in his rage and despair that he almost didn’t see the sugar maker come out of his house. The old man moved slowly and carefully to check Grunthen’s body, but Borba wasn’t so useless that he didn’t know where to stab.

Well, Ghitha knew how to stab someone too. He followed when the sugar maker ran into the woods. No doubt the man had heard everything and planned to tell everyone in the village about Woldec’s shame—how he’d died miserably.

The knife went into the sugar maker’s back easier than Ghitha had expected. So smoothly, so calmly. The old man gasped, but Ghitha shoved him down and kept out of his sight. That was what a hunter would do. That was what Woldec had taught him to do.

Out in the forest, he knew the animals would take care of the body. Grunthen’s, though, was a problem. Ghitha’s stuttering mind started to work again. Woldec had always depended on him to plan the hunts, and this would be no different. Only this time, he’d be protecting his brother’s reputation.

When Ghitha arrived back at the compound, however, he found it on fire and Borba watching the flames. The hunter was turning out to be less and less useless.

Ghitha eased back into the night’s shadows and thought.

I dumped a bucket of water over my head. The sun wasn’t quite up, and darkness still covered the small plaza with the well. The water was shivering cold, but I needed to rinse away the residue left after experiencing Ghitha’s dreams.

His qi is unwell, Yuki said, bitter and unstable. Much of his attention is focused on keeping his thoughts in order.

I put down the bucket and grabbed my clothes. But he has a talent for being Even-Tempered.

His insides are very different from his outsides, Yuki said. The talent is all that is holding him together.

Mmm… he’s a broken man. It probably started early too. His family life growing up was tough.

Should we feel pity? Yuki asked.

Yes? No? Maybe? He didn’t have anyone to save him like Helen saved me. But then again, I can’t imagine that people like Inleio didn’t try to help.

He stuck to his family’s pride, Yuki said. Everything else was considered a weakness.

I suppose it doesn’t matter. He killed Bindeise, an innocent bystander.

We should tell him, Yuki said. Bindeise will want to know the identity of his murderer.

Yes, and he’ll probably want us to bring Ghitha to justice. Borba too, since they’re both involved. I shuddered from the cold, goosebumps rising all along my arms. But this isn’t the place to think about that. Let’s get somewhere warm first.

I ran to Bihei’s longhouse. People were starting to take care of their early-morning chores, so I Camouflaged in order to not stand out. That didn’t help me on my arrival though. When I dropped the spell, the widow and the kids complained about my sopping hair and damp clothes.

“Why are you always like this?” Bihei asked. “Are you a fish that you must come to the door wet every time?

The kids each grabbed a hand and pulled me in to sit by the fire, then wrapped me in blankets.

“Was there a monster in the well?” Aluali asked.

“Or did someone fall in and need rescue?” Billisha asked.

“No, no. Nothing like that,” I said. “It was just a nightmare, and I didn’t like the way I felt after. The cold water helped wash it away.”

“Oh, Eight. I’m sorry,” Bihei said, her face falling. “I made a joke, but you were actually hurting.”

“It was just a little dream,” I said. “You don’t have to feel bad.”

Bihei shook her head, as if to deny my words. Her eyes grew firm, and she seemed to come to a decision. She took a stiff step forward and wrapped her arms around me. “We all have nightmares about the things that happened to us. You’re not alone, Eight. You don’t have to face them by yourself. You have us too.”

Aluali and Billisha glommed on, and I was suddenly surrounded by a warm circle of arms and soft whispers.

“I’m here too. You can count on me.”

“We’ll always watch out for you, Zasha.”

“We get nightmares too.”

“But Zasha makes them better. Let us make them better for you too.”

I couldn’t tell who was saying what in the press of bodies, but it didn’t matter. Slowly, in the face of their warmth, the tension I’d been carrying eased.

For days, my thoughts had weighed on me. Being stuck in an eight-year-old body didn’t exactly lend itself to revealing the identities of Bindeise and Grunthen’s murderers—not to mention the source of my information. I couldn’t just blab to the village that my best friend was a hyper-intelligent lichen the shade of fuchsia, inhabiting me.

The kids were right, though. I was surrounded by people who cared about me. Not even counting Yuki and Ikfael, Billisha, Aluali, and even Bihei—there were Inleio and Mumu, Haol, Tegen, as well as all the other hunters who I’d become friends with.

There was a saying in Diaksh: a lodge is like another family. It was time to put that to the test.

The plan was to keep things simple. Telling the whole truth wouldn’t be safe for Yuki, but I’d come as close to it as I could. I was on good terms with Inleio and the hunters on my team, and I didn’t want to do anything stupid to jeopardize those relationships.

On the way to the lodge, I couldn’t help building out scenarios for the different ways the conversation could go. The best case was that the hunters believed me—not because I was incredibly convincing, but because they had their own investigation going. It was possible that my share of the story was the last bit of evidence they needed to confirm Borba and Ghitha’s guilt. Unlikely, but it was possible.

In the worst case, they somehow find out about Yuki, and I’d be forced to flee the village. Also unlikely. Also possible.

Although, I didn’t know for certain that they’d panic over Yuki. Ikfael had certainly been alarmed when she’d first met them, but that didn’t mean others would be.

Ollie/Eight must focus.

Thank you. I’m just nervous, is all.

We know, but it will be well. The lodge—

—needs me. And they know I’m reliable. When I found chliapp lion tracks near the village, I was proven right. I have a history of being clever. I just have to—

—focus, Yuki said.

Right. I gave myself a double slap on the cheeks, then jogged the rest of the way.

Inleio was in the process of unlocking the door when I arrived. “Well, if it isn’t our most diligent apprentice. I’m surprised you’re still in the village. Are you here to train?” He paused to examine my face. “No, that’s not it. What’s wrong, Eight?”

“There’s… something I need to talk to you about.”

“Any immediate danger?” Inleio asked, his eyes sharpening.

“No, but it’s serious.”

“Then come inside. I will get the tea started.” Inleio led the way, but instead of going to his desk, he opened the trap door leading down to the ritual room under the lodge. “There’ll be no privacy once the hunters start to arrive. We’ll talk below.”

32

The Truth, Guaranteed

Inleio walked around the ritual room, lighting the sconces as he went. Meanwhile, I started a fire inside the circle of stones at the room’s center. It was a circle within a circle. Mi abuela would’ve approved.

As I settled in, I had the chance to look around. What stood out were the tapestries on the walls. They portrayed the forest and the creatures inhabiting it. I saw deer and mountain cats, elk and chishiaxpe, and a rendering of Ikfael as a giant otter made of water.

Apparently, Inleio took his tea seriously. When he was done with the sconces, he moved aside one of the tapestries to reveal a cabinet that looked like an old-fashioned library card catalog. He opened several of the drawers, then used a small spoon to scoop out herbs, flower petals, and grasses into a bowl.

As I waited for him to finish, I noticed hidden creatures in the scenes portrayed by the tapestries: an enormous moose with moss running down its sides, an egret with silver wings and a crescent moon subtly stitched into the background behind it, and a serpent with stars in its eyes. The last tapestry was faded and frayed at the edges.

“Who or what is this?” I asked, pointing.

A quick glance was all Inleio needed. “That is the serpent of the mountain. There’s a story that goes with it—an old one, but powerful. Voorhei’s hunters at the time angered the spirits of the land; they experimented with darklight and spread it through the forest in an effort to cause the animals to rage against each other. The spirits punished the village by poisoning its water. No matter where the villagers went, the water turned poisonous, causing their bellies to swell and boils to burst on their faces and arms.”

Inleio’s voice was calm and steady as he recounted the story. “The lodge master—a young woman named Ikiira, new to the position—hoped to atone for the hunters’ wrongdoing and walked into the forest alone, naked and unarmed. Likely sensing the curse upon her, the creatures of the woods ran from her as she wandered.”

Inleio finished with the herbs and set them to steep in a small iron pot over the fire. I sat across from him.

“Obviously the village survived, so she must’ve succeeded. What happened to her?”

“Ikiira came back after three days, untouched. By then, the village had become a place of nightmares. Those that survived did so by drinking the blood of their animals. The rest were dead from thirst. The surviving villagers ran to Ikiira, hoping for an answer to their prayers, but no matter how they pressed, she remained silent. The only sign that she’d succeeded was a mark on her forehead: a serpent on a mountain.”

Inleio continued the story, his voice soothing: “Ikiira walked steadily toward the village’s pyramid and climbed to the top. The villagers surrounded the base and eventually grew quiet. They waited just as she waited. Then, when the sun was at its highest point, Ikiira fell. She’d died, and there was no wound on her body that anyone could find. The villagers were bewildered. They didn’t know what to do. Until a voice spoke as if from the air: ‘Place her body in the river.’ ”

Inleio poured the tea into two small, delicate cups. It was too hot to drink, but the scent flowed through me, opening up both my lungs and pores.

“Not knowing what else to do, Voorhei’s villagers followed the voice’s instructions. They carried Ikiira to the river outside the walls and placed her into the water. There—once submerged—her hair, her face, her hands, her entire body, little by little dissolved like salt.”

I sighed and blew on the tea so that I could take a sip. It smelled so good. “And then the water was okay to drink again, right?”

“Our Little Pot contains answers as well as questions,” Inleio said, smiling slightly. He also took a sip of his drink. “Yes, you are right. From that day onward, Voorhei’s water has always been exceptionally clean.”

“The water from the Glen?” I asked.

“Across all the streams and wells, but yes, especially the water from there. And—before you ask, I’ll tell you—it was a year later that we discovered Ikfael’s spirit inhabiting the Glen.”

“Did Ikiira turn into Ikfael?” I asked. That sounded like a big revelation, but for some reason I was strangely calm about it.

“We don’t know,” Inleio said. “The ways of the spirits are a mystery, no matter what the philosophers say.”

I sat quietly and pondered the story, sipping the tea until it was gone. Inleio kindly poured me and himself another cup.

When he saw that I’d drunk that one too, he gently nudged me. “You said that you had something you wanted to tell me.”

Hmm? Oh, that’s right. I was here to tell Inleio about the murders. The idea that Ikfael may have been human once was so intriguing, though—not that it would make any difference to our relationship. Would it?

“Eight?”

Ah, the murders. Focus, Ollie. Where to start though? I had a plan to tell partial truths, but somehow it was hard to remember which ones. My mouth was dry, so I took yet another sip of tea.

Inleio spoke gently. “Would it help if I told you that we already know?”

“What? You do?”

“Of course,” Inleio said. “How else could a child survive in the forest and reach Level 3 if not by absorbing darklight?”

Wait, there’s been a misunderstanding. My thoughts were too slow, though, and he continued before I could interrupt.

“Our village is particular about darklight’s uses, because of our history. Other villages aren’t as strict. They give their children permission to absorb darklight if it’s necessary to survive.” Inleio paused to look at me, his expression gentle. “You’re not the only child to stray. You needn’t worry about having mutated as a result.”

“What do you mean?” I became engrossed in his words, my thoughts about Ikfael dissipating.

“Your hair, young Eight. Several hunters have noticed it changing colors, mostly when you concentrate on the surrounding qi.” Inleio adjusted the wood for the fire, the smoke swirling and rising toward holes in the ceiling. “The darklight changed you, but I am grateful that it took you in a good direction. It has proved useful to your survival beyond increasing your level. There are too many stories of it straying people in bad directions—the darklight’s rage causing people and their families harm.”

Something… Something’s wrong…

I heard Yuki’s voice, but it was muffled. That alarmed me, and my heart started to beat fast. Beads of sweat gathered along my brow.

Ollie/Eight, can you hear us? Something’s wrong…

Instinct told me to check my Status:

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Sedative (2), Truth-Telling (2)

Ah, the tea, I thought.

Hello, can you hear us?

I hear you, Yuki. I’ll always hear you. You’re my… you’re my best friend. My affection for the uekisheile swelled within me and tears formed in my eyes.

“All’s well, our Eight. You don’t have to hide anymore,” Inleio said. “The lodge—your hunt brothers and sisters—we understand the need to survive. We accept you no matter if you’ve mutated or not. You are free to live in the village with the rest of us. You don’t need to separate yourself away in the forest. Our only request is that you not absorb any more darklight.”

The fog clouding my thoughts began to break, and Yuki’s relief was immediately palpable through it.

Oh good, they said. The adrenaline’s working to counteract the sedative. Now, it’s very important that you repeat after us: But I like living with Ikfael. She is part of my family. Just like that. Okay?

“But I like living with Ikfael. She is part of my family. Just like that. Okay?”

No. Stop. You’re talking too much.

“No. Stop. You’re talking too much.”

Inleio frowned and looked at me with concern. “Perhaps you’ve had too much of the tea. I’m sorry. My hope was that it would help you unburden yourself.” He took my cup away, then handed me a clay jar full of water instead.

He motioned for me to drink, and I did. The jar’s surface was rough, and the water was cold and clear. There was a hint of earthiness from the clay. Focusing on tangible things helped steady me. As did Yuki.

Hold on. We’re going to give you another shot of adrenaline.

Alarm ran through me. My eyes widened. My nostrils too. I took a deep breath, and a bit more of the fog lifted. My thoughts were still loosey-goosey, but I felt them come under my control again.

How did you know to use adrenaline to fight the sedative? I asked.

We’ve been binging on your memories about chemistry and biology to better understand how to adapt to the optic nerve’s signals. Also, the structures in your body are fascinating. We love to watch them work.

“Do you feel better?” Inleio asked, his eyes full of concern.

“I do,” I said, and meant it. “The tea made me groggy, but I’m more clear-headed now.”

“So what do you think about what I said?”

Right. This is it. I can make this situation work. All I had to do was tell the truth, and Inleio would believe me. His trick with the tea would cinch it. I just had to be selective about what I shared.

“I’m grateful for your care. It must’ve been hard to watch a child live in the forest alone. But I really do like living in Ikfael’s Glen. I also like Voorhei and the people who live there. Most of them, anyway. There are some who I’d rather… well, that’s getting off-topic.”

I cleared my throat, and drank more water. “I didn’t come here to talk about darklight. No, I’m here, because I discovered something concerning. That night when I showed you my Camouflage spell? I practiced it on the way home and caught Otwei sneaking out of Bihei’s house.”

Inleio frowned. “Mumu told me about her presence in the Glen. I have hunters watching her, just in case.”

“Well, I didn’t see any other hunters that night, except for Borba. He was leaving Ghitha’s house in the middle of the night. And he snuck home like he didn’t want anyone to know he’d been there.”

I thought Inleio might interrupt me, but all he did was lean forward. He wasn’t pleased though—a small frown gave him away.

I took a breath and assembled the rest of the story’s pieces into a coherent form: “The morning after, I questioned Borba about his relationship with Ghitha, and what he said made me uneasy. Some of it was true, but some were lies. That’s not just my opinion either. I’d investigated the relationship between him and Ghitha and Woldec and Kiertie.”

Inleio shook his head. “When did you have time for all this?”

“I’ve been investigating Bindeise’s murder for a while now. You know about his ghost, right?”

“Yes, I’d heard,” Inleio said. “Our Mumu expects to become rich.”

I grinned, my affection for her leaking through. “Oh yes, she will. Especially when—” I stopped and forced myself to drink some water. “Anyway... I have a good grasp on what happened to Woldec and his team based on three things: First is the evidence around the circumstances of their deaths, the physical clues of the battle with the kalihchi bear. Second is the story I’d gathered from the only eyewitness to Grunthen’s death, Bindeise. And third is my surveillance of both Borba and Ghitha.”

“Our Eight was most thorough,” Inleio said.

“I wanted to be careful not to accuse the wrong man. Or men, in this case.”

Inleio took a sip of his tea. His kindly expression from earlier was long gone, though. What was left on his face was serious and tired. “I can tell from your face that I will not like what you are about to say.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no other way to put it: Borba killed Grunthen. He did it because he was in love with Kiertie. Grunthen ran from the fight with the kalihchi bear and left her to die. Bindeise witnessed the murder, which is why Ghitha then killed him. That way, the story of Woldec’s shame wouldn’t spread, and he’d be able to blackmail Borba into doing what he wanted. At first, it was just providing materials to trade, but then later he forced Borba to help convince the lodge to participate in the kalihchi bear’s hunt.”

There. I’d done it. I wove a path to the truth while avoiding all the bits that might draw harm to Yuki.

Inleio closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “This is all true? You swear it so?”

“I do,” I said.

“This evidence of yours—”

“Conversations with the dead, examining a place I’d rather keep secret, eavesdropping on… people unaware. There’s nothing I can show to you. All you have is my word that I’m telling the truth. That and this tea.”

“You noticed,” Inleio said with a bitter, fleeting smile. “Of course you did. Very little goes unnoticed by our Eight. You are a frightening child.” Inleio put down his cup and gazed at its contents. “You have so much potential. You could grow into an incredible boon to Voorhei. But with great height comes the danger of a long fall. Do not fall, young Eight. I plead with you, do not fall.”

His voice was as grave as I’d ever heard it. I nodded in response. “I promise.”

“Good, because I’ll hold you to that.”

“And what about Borba and Ghitha?” I asked. “What will you do about them?”

“I will have to kill them both,” Inleio said with a sigh.

My heart sank. “What? Why? I mean, I understand why, but isn’t there another punishment?”

Inleio shook his head. “If he’d killed anyone else, Borba would’ve been fined or exiled, but Grunthen… Borba will have to sacrifice much to make amends for that loss. As for Ghitha, I was content at first to drain his family’s wealth and break his influence, but I see now how his schemes run even deeper than I’d suspected. There will be hunters who die hunting the King of the Forest, and Ghitha will pay for those deaths with his life.”

“Can’t we call off the hunt? Round up Borba and Ghitha and make them drink the tea and admit their crimes?”

“We could,” Inleio said. “But Ghitha, damn the man, is right. The kalihchi bear grows more powerful every year, and this is our chance to get rid of both him and Ghitha’s wealth at the same time. The hunters from Albei, for all their faults, are strong. We need that strength. The King of the Forest must die before the Long Dark. Except now, Ghitha’s wealth is not enough of a price.”

“Oh,” I said. Just, ‘oh.’

There’d been more going on behind the scenes than I’d known. The lodge was killing two birds with one stone. Even though the cost would be high, the benefits would be worth it. “Will it? Will it be worth it?” I asked.

“This damn tea,” Inleio said, dumping the remains into the fire. “I should not have said what I did in front of you, but if it is our Eight, I believe he will understand.” He looked me in the eyes, and I saw the hardness in them of someone willing to pay almost any price to protect what he loved. “I have no answer to this question, Little Pot. Life is uncertain. We follow our paths, we respect the spirits and gods, and we fight to our dying breath so that our families and our village survive. That is all we can ever do.”

33

Stories and Complications

The sun was directly overhead by the time I left the lodge—so bright I had to block the light with my hands to give my eyes time to adjust. An elderly couple greeted me as they walked past, and I replied automatically. My mind was elsewhere, spinning in circles.

Ikfael may have been human once.

Also, Ghitha was right: the Hunter’s Lodge had worked to undermine his family’s influence. Not without good reason, but still, he should be allowed to fight back, shouldn’t he? They way he’d done it though—killing Bindeise—that was a crime.

Borba would have to pay too. And it didn’t matter that I saw some of myself in the hard-working hunter. Justice was justice… wasn’t it?

At least the tea’s effects had worn off. There was no danger of me blabbing my secrets to random passersby on my way to Bihei’s longhouse. Inleio’s instructions to me were clear: let him deal with Ghitha and Borba. Instead, I was to focus on preparing myself for the kalihchi bear’s hunt.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. There was nothing left to do in the village other than train and wait for Billisha and Aluali to finish work so that I could say goodbye before heading back to the Glen.

Ikfael was practicing her water art in the moonlight—retelling the story of the Avenger, singular. Meaning John Steed was out of the picture, and Emma Peel had completely morphed into Knight Otter. I dragged myself out of the woods and plopped down beside her to watch. She sent a quick glance my way, but didn’t say anything, absorbed as she was in controlling the character’s movements.

The night was cool and felt good after the long journey to the Glen. The sound of the waterfall was constant, but beside it the cicadas also sang, accompanied by the rustling of leaves in the wind. Time passed, and the peace of the Glen worked its magic. It didn’t untangle the mess in my head, but I was able to lay my thoughts aside for a time. There was just me and Yuki and Ikfael watching the story play out.

“If I said the name Ikiira, would it mean anything to you?”

Ikfael’s paws slowed. Knight Otter was in the midst of confronting the story’s villain, her arms gesturing grandly. The movement stuttered, but only for a moment. Ikfael didn’t turn to look at me. Didn’t quirk her head. Didn’t pause to respond. But that stutter told its own story. I had my answer.

“I’m sorry about what happened to you. But I’m glad that you’re here now as Ikfael.” Careful not to jostle her movements, I got up and hugged her from behind.

The events that Inleio had recounted had happened a long time ago in Voorhei’s history. Still, she must’ve suffered. Life was hard enough without having to be responsible for a whole village’s survival and having to sacrifice yourself for the good of all.

And I was so very grateful for Ikfael’s presence in my life. Not just because of her utility either. Yes, I wouldn’t have survived without her, but just as importantly, she was a source of joy, even if she was sometimes snarky and demanding. The world was a better place for her in it.

Or maybe I’d been thinking too many dark thoughts about intrigue and murder, and needed to acknowledge something… holy. That was what love and sacrifice could be with the right intentions.

I must’ve caught Ikfael by surprise with my hug, because Knight Otter froze midway through a kick. The water hung motionless in the air, and Ikfael’s body in my arms was just as stiff. She didn’t shake me off, though, and the tension within her slowly eased, almost grudgingly so.

She glanced back at me. “You are so unfair,” she signed.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my face half-buried in her fur. “Can I stay like this for a while? It’s been a hard day.”

“Whatever.” She turned back around, and the story resumed where it left off: Knight Otter kicked the villain in the face.

The next day, I woke up to Yuki prodding my qi and urging me to meld consciousnesses.

Hurry, hurry. Or you’ll miss it.

“Wha—” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

While you slept in, Borba was summoned to the lodge’s ritual room. Mumu and Haol were there. Inleio too. They served him the same tea you drank, and Borba recognized it. The other hunters are currently watching as Inleio and Borba drink. No, not just watching—they have their knives drawn. Borba feels threatened. He listens with horror as Inleio—

I stumbled toward the waterfall to splash my face. The cold water shocked me awake, and Yuki’s words registered. Immediately, I dove into the land and into the portion of ourselves inside Borba.

The hunter was reeling, and his stomach felt like he was falling from a high cliff. The lodge knew about Grunthen’s murder. He’d done well to keep it a secret so far, but now everything was crashing down. His place in the village and his life were forfeit. “Was it Ghitha? Why would he reveal me? I did everything he asked.”

“I will not tell you how we know, but we know,” Inleio said.

An idea popped into Borba’s head. “It—it wasn’t Eight, was it? The other day, he asked me these strange questions—”

“Eight is a child,” Inleio said. “Uncanny, but a child nonetheless.”

Of course. How foolish. It couldn’t be Eight. The answer was probably a hunter with a hidden talent. Or someone representing Ithia the Land Knight. It didn’t matter, really. There was no way the village would let the death of a hunter as talented as Grunthen go. Once they’d begun suspecting he’d been murdered, they’d worked tirelessly to find the truth.

“All I ask is that my family be spared. For them to stay in Voorhei,” Borba said. “Our lives are better here than in Voorhoos.”

“Your crime is not their crime,” Inleio said. “You have my word that they will be treated fairly. As will you.”

“What will you have, then?”

“Tell us everything,” Inleio said.

And so Borba did. Under the effects of the truth-telling tea, he laid it all out—from being desperately in love with Kiertie to flying into a rage at Grunthen’s cowardice to Ghitha blackmailing him.

The man sobbed as he spoke. His world was ending, but there was relief too. The secret he’d kept had been heavy, and he was finally able to put it down. He also hated Ghitha, and it was a relief to be out from under his influence.

Inleio, Mumu, and Haol were backlit by the sconces behind them. None of them moved, not until Borba ran down and his story was fully told. Then, one of the watchers—based on the size, it was Mumu—walked to the edge of the room. There was the sound of a tapestry rustling, and her blob grew bigger as she approached Borba and placed something in front of him.

Whatever the object was, it filled Borba with dread. “This...”

“It is fair,” Inleio said.

“But—” Borba’s protest cut off when realization dawned. “You mean to use me in the hunt for the King of the Forest.”

Inleio must’ve nodded, because confirmation reverberated through Borba. He turned his attention towards opening the box containing… darklight. More darklight than Borba had ever seen in his life.

“You will become a mule,” Inleio said. “You will gain as many levels as possible before the hunt, then work with Moon, of the Albei team, to understand and learn to control the darklight’s rage.”

“I admit my crime, but why do this?” Borba asked. “I have served the village for so many years.”

“It is fair,” Inleio said. “To compensate for the loss of Grunthen’s talents, you will have to become as strong as him. To compensate for his life, you must give your own.”

We didn’t catch the rest. Once we understood that Borba was meant to start absorbing darklight immediately, we rushed to abandon his body. Fortunately, he was already in so much distress that he didn’t feel us escaping through the exposed back of his neck. Given the skilled hunters in the room though, we didn’t travel far. Just enough to hide under a rug.

When we heard Borba starting to choke and vomit, I left the land and rushed to dunk my head under the waterfall for the second time that morning. Yet again, the frigid water shocked me back into my body.

When I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, I pulled my head out and sat back with a thump. Gods, but the people of this world were brutal. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand, but Borba had been their friend long before I’d met the man. That they were willing to turn him into a monster for the village’s benefit was disturbing.

I didn’t know what to think.

Borba’s punishment was cruel and unusual. That was how my old world would’ve described it. But I wasn’t there, was I? I was in a new world, one with its own considerations. Things happened here that would have been impossible in my old world. And I had had a role in how they played out.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that either.

I admired Inleio—in many ways he reminded me of mi abuelo—but I hated the cruelty I’d just witnessed. Though in truth, that reminded me of my first family too. None of them had been all good or all bad. Instead, they’d been complicated mixtures of both—due to the places where they’d grown up, the people who’d raised them, and the things that had happened to them.

Right and wrong and shades in between, Yuki said, reading my thoughts.

I sighed. Yes.

If what the lodge is doing is wrong, do we rescue Borba?

Was the lodge wrong? It felt like it, but I had a different history than Inleio and the rest. This business of turning people into mules was a way to cope with a harsh and unforgiving world. Well, the circumstances were likely more complicated than that. No doubt it was the poor and disenfranchised who tended to become mules. I didn’t know that for sure, but I’d seen enough in my previous life to bet on it.

Everything was complicated. And I couldn’t escape from the whirlpool of my thoughts.

Yuki nudged me. Our question?

It’s not our place, I said finally. Borba brought this punishment upon himself, and until we know more about this world’s civics, politics, religions, and common sense, I’m not willing to intrude.

Not unless there are children in danger.

Yuki’s statement was meant as a clarification, but it stung, and I felt like a hypocrite. Things were fine as long as they didn’t touch my values or what was important to me. That stance used by others had made me angry in my previous life, and here I was replicating it.

I gritted my teeth. “There are some lines I’m not willing to cross. No matter anything else.”

And later? Once we know civics and politics, religions and common sense?

“Then we make the best decisions we can in whatever situations we find ourselves.”

That seemed to satisfy Yuki, and they retreated to think about things on their own.

I kept myself occupied. It was classic avoidance behavior on my part, but served a purpose: creating the mental and emotional space I needed until I was ready to think about what was happening in Voorhei again.

In addition to training, I surveyed the trees around the Glen. The family hired to build Ikfael’s shrine would need construction materials, and so did I. The metal tools I’d purchased from the village smith meant I was finally able to make proper furniture for the cave. How wonderful would it be to have a real bed, boxes for storage, and real walls.

I trained and measured and planned, and every so often I checked in on Ghitha and Otwei, but they were unaware of what was happening to Borba. As for the portion of Yuki stuck in the lodge’s ritual room, they found a way to escape through the ventilation holes into the rooms above. Over the course of two nights, they snuck toward Bihei’s longhouse and found a spot to hide on the ceiling.

Yuki was pleased to be in a position to watch over the kids and Bihei.

A day later, Ikfael went into hiding when Kesa’s team showed up in the Glen with the head of the family tasked with building the shrine.

Tusulei the Builder (Human)

Talents: Timber-Sense, Measure Twice Cuss Once, Eye for Details

She was a tall woman, with long salt-and-pepper hair tied back in a braid. Her eyes were clear and her clothes appropriate to the forest, if finely made. Something about the way she curiously examined the Glen made me think she was serious about her job. The smile lines around her eyes told me she also laughed easily.

Aunt Tulu—that was what the builder insisted I call her—examined the trees I’d selected. She approved of some, but not others, and then went to wander around the future site of the shrine. She kept a small bag at her side of maple candies, which she shared with me and with Kesa’s team as we followed behind her.

I tucked a couple away for Ikfael. I was sure she’d like the candies, and hopefully they’d make up for the disturbance to the Glen, at least a little bit.

The candies were apparently from Albei, which was where Aunt Tulu’s family resided. It was good to know that not everyone from the city was a conniving ass. I hoped to go one day myself, but not if everyone turned out to be like Banan and his crew.

Once Aunt Tulu looked like she’d be settling in to examine the site in detail, Kesa pulled me away and asked if it’d be all right if her team left for a couple of hours. She wanted to continue scouting for a suitable location for the upcoming hunt for the kalihchi bear.

She told me that the original plan had been for Borba’s team to escort the builder to the Glen, but he wasn’t feeling well. And with Mumu’s team occupied with some kind of secret project, that left Kesa’s team.

My stomach cramped hearing the deceptions coming out of the lodge, but what could I do? As for Aunt Tulu, I didn’t mind. She seemed engrossed in her own work and didn’t look like she would cause any trouble. Ikfael and Yuki would have to stay out of sight, but that would’ve been the case anyway. Plus, I could negotiate with the builder about purchasing lumber for myself.

Glad of the help, Kesa’s team prepared to leave. Before then, though, one of the team members gave her a nudge.

“Ah, one more thing, Eight. We found signs of a blynx near where the musk ox bulls were killed. Given your interest, we thought you would want to know.”

Ah, the first good news in days. “Thank you,” I said. “That helps. A lot.”

“Wait for your team,” Kesa said, starting to frown. “Do not let your impatience drive you toward reckless action.”

“I’ll make sure to take every precaution,” I said.

Kesa’s frown deepened. Clearly, she was old enough to recognize an evasion when she heard one. She didn’t call me out on it though, and just said: “Be careful. For everyone’s sake, be careful.” Then, she led her team into the forest.

34

An Arrow Flies True

The next day a light rain fell, causing the long grass to bow in supplication. Hidden among the trees along the ridge where we’d fought the musk oxen, I listened as the drops blipped and blopped on the forest canopy. The ground below had softened and returned to the shape it had held before the battle. The dried blood had washed away, and the scavengers hadn’t left much behind either.

I wasn’t there to hunt—not yet anyway. No, my goal was to observe. It’d be a lot harder to capture a blynx than to kill one, and I needed to figure out how to do that and bring it back alive. My hope was to track it to where it holed up to eat and sleep, so that I could lay an ambush for the ambusher.

So far, I’d spotted a squadron of javelinas moving between the trees. There’d also been a skunk nosing among some musk oxen’s’ bones, but he’d run off after not finding anything on them. No sign of a blynx though. There were two more days before I was due in Voorhei for my next visit, so luckily I had time to be patient.

The showers let up by mid-afternoon, and the sun came out to steam the land dry. A flock of geese honked as they flew overhead. The skunk came back and left. Then a beautiful doe stepped out from between the trees, her steps graceful and delicate. A moment later two fawns followed.

The only warning I had was a flicker out of the corner of my right eye. Dog’s Agility spun up, pumping energy into my meridians, while adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream. I twisted, bringing my spear up, but realized nothing was there. Down below, though, there was a cry.

I twisted back around in time to see a blynx latch onto one of the fawns. The two disappeared, leaving only a line of blood in the air. Startled, the doe and remaining fawn bounded into the trees.

It took only a second—two at the most—for the area to empty and turn quiet. The only evidence that the missing fawn had ever been alive was the blood that fell out of the air, bowing the grassy heads once more.

The blynx had come from the west, so I started the search there and got lucky. I found paw prints, along with a bloody trail where the fawn’s body had been dragged through the mud before the blynx teleported again.

I dipped into the land to open my spirit eyes. My thought was to taste the scent of the blynx’s spirit to help with tracking, but I spotted a disturbance farther west, to where the trail pointed. The spirits of the trees darkened, while birds scattered from their resting places in their branches.

I ran.

An oak shook in anger, the wind blustering through its branches. I found blood pooling in a bowl formed from its roots, as well as a set of bloody prints.

The blynx my team had killed was cannier than this. It’d intermixed its travel with jumps in random directions to throw us off its trail. This one, though, appeared to be doggedly moving west. I kept after it, dipping into and out of the land to look for disturbances.

In fact, there was another disturbance, but this time it was a false one taking the shape of a young boy. I stumbled across him—it—crouched under a cedar. The creature turned when I exclaimed in surprise. A quick look confirmed it wasn’t a real child, and I felt my temper get the better of me. Dog’s Agility flowed through my meridians, and Spiral Pierce wrapped around my spear.

The false one ran at me, and when it was a lunge’s distance away I thrusted and blew a hole through its abdomen. It didn’t even have time to open its beak. The feeling was like pushing a knife through leather: tough at first, but easy once it was through.

The false one flailed at the end of my spear, though it didn’t take long for the limbs to go still. Bile rose in my throat, yet I forced myself to watch and get used to its eerie Camouflage. I couldn’t let these things affect me. Even a split-second’s hesitation could mean the difference between life and death.

Once the creature was dead, I remembered myself and looked around to ensure it was alone. The forest was quiet, and I didn’t see anything. I Camouflaged, however, just in case.

When the birdsong resumed and nothing else happened, I let the spell go and reached for the false one’s silverlight.

14 silverlight gathered. 13 absorbed.

Looking with my spirit eyes, I didn’t see any other disturbances nearby. Had I lost the blynx’s trail? Maybe I should get some elevation?

There was a horotonei tree nearby with a branch close enough for me to reach. When I put my hand on its trunk, the bark smelled like cardamom. I apologized for the disturbance and jumped up. Its spirit didn’t react, so I started to climb.

The bark was rough and easy to grip, and the scent grew stronger the higher I climbed, especially with the wind blowing through the branches and sweeping through my hair and clothes. I was only able to get three-quarters of the way toward the canopy, but the view was good enough. The land dipped to the west before rising again toward the hills leading to the escarpment.

I looked out over a green world full of life, the horotonei under me swaying in tandem with the other trees nearby. Squirrels ran along the branches above, chirping in alarm at my presence. A beetle crawled past to get to the tree’s trunk. A butterfly briefly landed on my hand, and then fluttered away.

There was no sign of the blynx yet, but I kept my spirit eyes open. There were shifts in the forest’s mood, but not in the direction of the blynx’s trail: a small disturbance to the north, a much larger one to the south. The susurration of the wind through the horotonei’s branches was broken by the sound of a loud crack in that direction. A pine tree shook and started to fall, only to catch against its neighbors. There was a smash, and the tree fell.

The forest darkened. Spirits fled, but there were also ones who were drawn to the disturbance. Me? I hid in the land and cast both Camouflage and Scentless Hunter.

Within minutes, a kettle of vultures glided into the area south of me to circle overhead. They fled, however, when a giant eagle also came to investigate. The telltale shaft of a broken spear jutted out from his back.

This bad boy again, I thought and kept still.

Let us see, Yuki said.

So I merged our consciousnesses, and we watched the giant eagle soar, riding the air currents above where the tree had fallen. Then he swept away with a tilt of his wings. Whatever he had seen down there must not have interested him.

The vultures came back once the giant eagle was gone. Except, one must’ve flown too low—an arc of lightning shot thirty yards into the air. The world stopped and turned black and white, the image imprinted upon our vision. The vultures scattered and fled, while one luckless bird dropped from the sky.

We blinked to clear our eyes and stayed where we were, making ourselves as small as possible, which seemed to be the plan for every animal nearby. Nothing moved or chirped or growled. We all hid from the King of the Forest.

Half an hour passed before the forest breathed again. Yuki separated from our union so that they could resume their experiments with my qi. Meanwhile, I sat back and considered just how easily the kalihchi bear had shot a vulture out of the sky with a bolt of lightning. I thought about how much he really did seem to be the King of the Forest.

One might’ve expected these events to have scared me off from participating in the bear’s hunt, but the opposite happened: witnessing the bear’s lightning had broken an impasse with which I’d been struggling. It had illuminated my situation with its stark light.

On one side was my desire to protect my friends and loved ones, and on the other were the recent events at the Hunter’s Lodge and my unresolved feelings about Borba’s punishment.

My stomach sank as I imagined what the King’s lightning could do to Billisha and Aluali, or to Inleio, Mumu, and my team, especially if he was given another six months to grow.

At the same time, I was deeply uneasy about Borba being forced to absorb darklight. Did I really want to be associated with people who’d do something like that? Yes, he’d committed a serious crime, but the cruelty—from what Yuki and I had glimpsed from within him—was terrible, such that it seemed like he’d be better off dead.

After all, death wasn’t final. I’d learned that as a child from mi abuela. I also knew it from this world, having met ghosts of all shapes and sizes. Through death and reincarnation, a person could start over and do better. But only if they don’t get stuck as a ghost, unable to let go because of the suffering they’d experienced while alive.

That was one of the dangers of Borba’s punishment: he might turn into a ghost after death. Or if he managed to avoid that fate, the cruelty he’d experience might twist his spirit so badly it’d affect his future lives—making them angrier, more fearful, and bitter. And those feelings rarely produced good in the world. The seeds of suffering sown now would only produce more suffering later.

It wasn’t like I didn’t understand the desire for vengeance. So many people had died during the last Long Dark because Grunthen hadn’t been there to help defend the village. If I were in Inleio’s shoes, I might’ve also decided that death wasn’t enough of a price—that Borba needed to do even more to make amends for the grief he’d caused—but it seemed to me that forcing him to absorb darklight was a step too far.

Maybe it was the way I’d been raised. My grandparents had taken matters of the spirit seriously, and there were certain obligations: to the dead but also the world in general, to make it a safer place for those without spiritual power. To grow what was best in humanity and slash the worst.

The events at the Hunter’s Lodge came up against the boundaries of those obligations. I doubted mi abuela would approve of making monsters.

So, the lodge was mistaken. I could say that with some surety. The question was: what should I do about it?

Just a few days ago, I’d told Yuki that I didn’t know enough about this world to intrude on the lodge’s decision making. Now, though, the King’s lightning had hardened a resolve that had been building within me to protect the people I cared about. I felt a determination to step forward and carry my share of the village’s burdens. The Hunter’s Lodge had taught me so much. In return, I could share a world’s worth of wisdom with them.

Unfortunately, I was in no position to do so, trapped as I was in an eight-year-old body. The hunters knew me to be clever and talented, but that didn’t mean much compared to the hard realities in which they lived.

If I wanted to change things, I’d have to grow in power and influence. That would happen naturally as I aged, but it wouldn’t be enough. No, the leadership role I envisioned required social connections, economic clout, and political power. The first two were already in progress, but the third… I didn’t want to be the village head, lead the Hunter’s Lodge, or anything like that, but maybe I could become an informal advisor to them?

Mumu was in line to become the next lodge master. We were teammates and business partners, so it’d be easy enough to talk to her about my ideas. And being the village’s liaison to Ikfael also helped, since it meant a working relationship with Sheedi too.

The only tough nut was Koda. I’d have to stop avoiding the village head and accept that I was occasionally going to be outmaneuvered. As long as my and my family’s needs were being met, it’d be okay. Mostly. Not really. But I’d grit my teeth and bear with it until I got better at handling him.

So, I’d keep doing what I’d been doing: turn into a clever pot full of answers as well as questions. I’d help people and build social capital, establish a business and create an economic base, and then use these resources to steer the village away from bad decisions, especially those involving darklight.

This would all take time, time that Borba didn’t have, but anything faster was reckless and less likely to work long term. I shook my head—there was no way for the current me to save him.

At least Billisha and Aluali would benefit from this plan. Not that they would have had a bad life otherwise—I would’ve made sure of that—but this way they’d have more resources at their disposal, as well as being safer.

I looked back over my thoughts and checked them against my heart.

Could I really say that I knew better than the people who lived in this world? No, definitely not. But there was an unavoidable feeling radiating out of my Taoism and Spirit Arts skills. The two had somehow overlapped, and I sensed from them that forcing someone to use darklight was deeply wrong. Maybe there were right ways to use the stuff—the dolbecs seemed to think so—but the things happening to Borba raised my hackles on multiple fronts.

So, yes, I had things to share. I just needed to find ways to sneak them into the collective wisdom of the villagers. We’d all be stronger together than if we were alone.

Underlying all these thoughts about influence and power was the very real truth that I cared about Inleio, Mumu, and the others. I wanted them to be safe, both from a dangerous world and from themselves. I would protect them if I could, in spite of the complications arising out of Borba’s punishment.

Enough hiding. It’s time to catch me a blynx.

I searched in a series of arcs radiating west, and an hour later I stumbled across the lingering scent of iron and musk. It led me to a goose hollow formed from the remains of a burned oak.

Inside were splatters of blood and tufts of the fawn’s hide. The blood smear led farther west, which was strange. Why didn’t the blynx hole up to eat the fawn here? Why continue onward? Unless it wasn’t safe or… it wasn’t the only one meant to eat the fawn.

There was a paw print not far from the goose hollow, and I spotted another closer still. After that, the trail became hard to follow again. Hollows, depressions, fallen logs, and rocky outcroppings were all favored targets for the blynx’s teleports. Almost always, the destination was a place screened from at least two directions.

My intuition tingled, and I picked up the pace, trusting the King of the Forest to stay to the south. The arcs I’d been using for a search pattern fell away as I moved directly from spot to spot—predicting where the blynx had teleported based on the terrain.

I wasn’t always right, but I found signs of the blynx’s trail in three out of five places I searched. It was good enough to speed things up, and I finally managed to catch sight of the blynx in the midst of teleporting.

It’s… her destination turned out to be a hollowed-out, fallen tree. The majority of the tree’s bulk was hidden by bushes all around it, and the blynx dragged the dead fawn’s body toward the entrance.

Almost at the goal, the blynx didn’t see the giant eagle swooping in with claws outstretched. I might not have seen it myself if not for Yuki’s warning:

The eagle!

I dove into the land and brought Yuki along with me, the two of us merging in its shadows. The blynx somehow evaded the eagle’s attack, although a line of red bloomed along her fur.

The eagle landed, and with a snap of his beak he tore open the fawn’s belly. He pulled out the innards and gulped them down. The blynx should’ve run while he was occupied, but she growled instead and stared the eagle down.

We saw her distended teats then. There are cubs in that hollow tree.

The telltale haft of a spear stuck out from the eagle’s back, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He crunched on the fawn’s bones, and steadily worked the rest of the body into his mouth, all the while keeping an eye on the blynx in turn. Was it our imagination, or was there a malicious glint in his eyes?

He knew. He knew from her reactions that there was something precious hidden nearby. His talons raked the hollow tree’s entrance and splintered the wood. The blynx leapt at him, but teleported away when the eagle snapped at her. The two began to fight, though the pattern repeated. Whenever the blynx teleported, the eagle anticipated the attack, and the blynx would be forced to teleport quickly away.

Giant Eagle (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Big Boy, Talons Like Knives, Death From Above, Air Superiority

Nascent: Slightly Smarter Than the Average Bird

When he’d attacked our team of hunters, only Mumu’s spear had been able to penetrate his feathers. Our arrows had either been avoided or deflected away. That had been before we learned Spiral Pierce, though, and an arrow in the right place might do.

Slipping through the brush, we searched for a hidden vantage. It was slow going, and the blynx was constantly at risk, but if our plan was to work, we needed the benefit of surprise. We found a spot behind a bramble and paused to identify a place to fall back if things went wrong. Then, we reached for our bow.

Our strange hybrid of Olympic and hunting archery was not fast or flexible, but it excelled at one thing: precision.

We steadied our breath and relaxed our gaze. Today was just another day. There was no need for anxiety, and we eased the alarms ringing through our body. Qi funneled through our meridians—the pattern for Camouflage familiar to us now—and we sent a portion into our bow and arrow. Then, we brought to mind the runes for Scentless Hunter to refresh the spell, and also sent some nature mana into our weapons. Finally, we began the sequence for Spiral Pierce.

It was all a dance—the energies flowing in a multitude of directions—and we were at its center.

We drew. The bow trembled with the strain, but held. The eagle paused in between attacks to smirk at the blynx, and we released.

The air cracked, but we were already moving towards our fallback position. The eagle shrieked, and we turned to see his talons shredding the bramble where we’d been. An arrow protruded from his eye.

No time to smile. No time to take pride in our skill. The eagle should’ve taken to the air immediately, but he hadn’t, a grave mistake.

We were still shy of our fallback, but couldn’t let this chance go. We came to a stop, and our posture and our breath steadied once more. Silently, we prayed. The words and qi and mana flowed into our arrow. There was Spiral Pierce and an enchantment and something older—something more primal: the desire to live and a plea to the gods to make it so.

The eagle’s head bobbed and shook as he tore apart the bramble where we’d been. The bow trembled with the strain, but we waited for the right moment. For the eagle to pause. For our heart to still. For the gods to look down from their high places and give their blessings.

When that moment came, the arrow flew true.

His other eye burst, and the eagle reeled. He attempted to escape, but collided with a tree, the impact knocking him to the ground and grinding the spear in his back. He buffeted the air and raked with his talons, but there was no one nearby.

Not until the blynx appeared above his throat. She tore at his feathers, blood spraying.

The eagle snapped at her, but too slowly. The blynx teleported straight up and fell like death upon the hapless bird. He clawed and snapped, but she continued to teleport up and then fall, attacking his throat until she carved her bloody way through.

When the eagle died, the blynx slipped from his body and fell once more, this time clumsily to the ground. She lay there panting and stunned. From the fallen log, two pairs of eyes peeked out.

We sighed in relief then. And appreciation. This is what we were made for. The blynx, Ollie/Eight, and Yuki—we were all hunters.

Stepping closer, we reached for the Grace in our heart.

35

Found and Lost

Blood seeped from a cut along the blynx’s flank. Her breaths came short and fast. A moment ago she’d been fury incarnate, but now she was spent—her legs collapsed under her when she tried to stand.

We approached cautiously, our mana flowing liberally into the wooden bowl gifted by the stonewater serpent. The Grace spell unfurled.

Previously, we’d learned that the spell’s effects were dulled against animals with strong predatory instincts; the weakened blynx, however, wasn’t able to resist. The thrill of alarm within her spirit eased, muffled by the understanding we meant no harm.

The kittens must’ve been caught within the boundary of the spell’s effects, because they tumbled out of the hollowed log. They looked about two months old, and they cried at the scent of blood in the air and in want of their mother’s milk.

“Easy, now,” we said gently. “Let us take care of her wound first.”

They didn’t listen, so we shielded their mother’s body while gathering the mana to cast Healing Water. That’s when we felt sharp pinpricks climbing our back as the kittens ascended to our shoulders. Their goal achieved, they watched us work from the new perch.

The eagle’s talons had cut their mother such that a flap of flesh hung loose along her side. We washed the wound clean, then arranged the flap so that it fell as it would’ve if she were healthy. After that, we poured Healing Water to stop the bleeding and close the gap.

Sparkles of delight arose within us. The magic of magic never gets old.

The blynx’s breathing steadied—enough for us to feel comfortable moving her into the hollowed tree, away from the dead eagle. We did so cautiously. Although she didn’t struggle, she kept her eyes on us and the kittens riding our shoulders.

Once settled in the hollow, the kittens jumped back to the ground and latched onto her teats. We stepped away from the nursing mother. The Grace spell was about to end.

When it did, the blynx stood, dislodging her kittens and immediately putting herself between them and us. We were ready with another Grace spell… but she didn’t attack.

Carefully, we moved back toward the giant eagle. The mother blynx was probably hungry, so we pulled feathers from the eagle’s breast until there was enough space to access the meat underneath.

We carved slices from the breast, then tossed them toward the blynxes. After the fifth one, she overcame her hesitation and started to devour them. We smiled then and separated our consciousnesses. While I remained cautious, I felt like we’d overcome a major hurdle. Also, there was enough easy food available that I didn’t worry about the blynx attacking. The only reason she’d do that now was to protect her kittens, and I wasn’t planning on approaching any of them without Grace’s influence—not yet, anyway.

It was a shame about the eagle’s eyes. They were supposed to be valuable. At least the talons were still intact; those were the other bits I’d been told would sell well. There was also still a fair amount of qi remaining in the body, which turned into a nice meal for Yuki.

Oh, and silverlight too:

235 silverlight gathered. 212 absorbed.

The silverlight shivered through me and sped through my bones like the wind through a canyon. I felt hollow and full at the same time—burdened by a terrible hunger but secure in my dominion over the lesser creatures of the air.

Afterwards, I was left gasping. Holy hells, that was intense. What level was this bad boy? All I knew was that he was dusk.

The mother blynx watched as I absorbed the eagle’s silverlight. Interestingly, she didn’t seem tempted by it at all. That disregard was something Tegen had mentioned during one of his lessons, but it was my first time seeing it in action.

Apparently, most animals didn’t absorb silverlight or darklight. Or if they did, only a certain amount before stopping. The reason being, the more light they had, the more tempting a target they became. Absorbing light, therefore, was a dangerous game of risk and reward.

While becoming powerful was one way to survive, it was just as valid a strategy to travel in the company of a dusk or dawn packmate and let them handle the dangerous situations.

Thinking about it, that’s what the people of Voorhei did. The majority of silverlight went to the heads of families—except for the taxed portion, which went to the village’s leadership. They chose to centralize the light into fewer, more powerful figures instead of spreading it around.

I took a quick look at my Status.

Silverlight 1048

Almost halfway to Level 4 now. Only five or six more giant eagles and I’ll be there. I couldn’t help chuckling at the thought.

“Excuse me,” I said to the mother blynx. “Don’t be alarmed, but I’m going to move this body so that it doesn’t attract scavengers to your den.”

The task was easier said than done, of course. The giant eagle was light for his size but still two or three hundred pounds. The best I could do was to cut the wings free and use a pair of stout tree branches as levers to roll the body away.

Gods, a strength buff would come in handy right now. I really should consider it for my next spell. Or would Spark be a better way to go? The opportunity to produce and study the effects of lightning before the King’s hunt might be invaluable.

When I was finally done moving the eagle’s body, I swept the remaining blood and gore away. The results weren’t perfect, but hopefully they’d be good enough.

Out of breath, sweaty, and bloody, I plopped down near the blynxes’ den. “You know, there’s this lovely cave you’re welcome to stay at. It’s never too hot or too cold, and there’s all the food you’d want to eat. My friend Ikfael lives there. You’d like her. She’s quite talented. A little standoffish, but she has a heart of gold.” I unfurled the Grace spell once more and felt it connecting me to all the living things nearby.

The spell eased the tension in the mother blynx, and she slipped out of the den to Blink out of the spell’s range. I jumped up in surprise, but she only brought an eagle feather over to cover the den’s entrance. The kittens found it fascinating, though, and kept knocking it over.

At that point, it hit me that I hadn’t bothered to check out the blynx’s talents.

Blinking Lynx (Animal)

Talents: Protector

There was only one, but it was a good one, and it certainly lined up with what I’d seen from her. Satisfied, I sat back down.

And that was how the rest of the afternoon went. Me resting until my mana recovered for another Grace spell; the kittens playing with the three-foot long feather; and the mother watching them, me, and the world from the mouth of the den.

An hour before dark, I said my goodbyes and left for the Glen. Taming the blynxes was a long-term project, and I planned to return tomorrow and the day after. The process should speed up, though, once I recovered the portion of Yuki currently hiding in Bihei’s longhouse—assuming the mother blynx was willing to take them into her body, of course. I wouldn’t force her. Now that we’d shared Grace, I couldn’t imagine doing anything that disrespected or hurt her.

The next morning, I hurried to make Ikfael’s breakfast and rushed back to the den. There’d been another rainstorm overnight, and the ground was muddier than the day before; the way was slick and slippery.

At the site where I’d dumped the giant eagle’s body, I found the carcass missing. The only signs that it’d been there were a few stray feathers and churned mud. Judging by the signs left behind, it appeared that a struggle had taken place for possession of the body.

I was anxious about the blynxes, but took the time to identify the prints: wolves, several of them, and big too. They’d surrounded and harassed… was that an owl print? If it was, then that bird was even bigger than the giant eagle.

How terrifying. Owls were incredible predators, silent and deadly. I’d have to be careful when traveling at night. As for the wolves, their territory was farther south. Were they losing their territorial battles?

In any case, the prints were hours old, and I didn’t find any evidence that either the owl or the wolves had lingered. I ran to the den, but there was no need to worry. The mother and kittens were safe inside.

I pulled out the Grace bowl and a slice of leftover eagle meat. “Breakfast time.”

The rest of that day and the next passed uneventfully. I didn’t encounter any more predators traveling to and from the den, and as the blynxes grew more comfortable with my presence, my own wariness eased. I started meditating outside their den, and the frequency of Grace spells increased.

The only interference was when we heard creatures moving through the forest nearby. The kittens were too young to Camouflage, so the mother picked them up and carried them deeper into the den whenever that happened. As for me, I was ready to ambush anything that came close—within reason, of course. No dragons, please.

A lot of time and energy was being invested into taming the blynxes, and I meant to protect that investment. Plus, the kittens were so damn cute.

Tomorrow, I was due in Voorhei for a scheduled training. That would last a couple of days, and then I’d come right back to pick up where I left off.

My mood grew heavy on the way to the village, and it stuck with me throughout my visit. It wasn’t just me either. The villagers were distracted by the upcoming hunt for the King of the Forest. The hunters, in particular, had that faraway look ball players got before a big game.

Well, it shouldn’t have been surprising. The kalihchi bear was the biggest game in the area.

My talks with Inleio, Mumu, and my team felt stiff. We all kept secrets, and that made for awkward gaps in our conversations. The ease with which I was used to talking with them was missing.

I didn’t tell them about the giant eagle and the blynxes. There was just something in me that thought it would be wise to keep some cards hidden. I’d consider revealing them later, once this mess with Borba and Ghitha was done and I had the chance to reevaluate my trust in the lodge.

Ugh. I hated the feeling when people slipped off of their pedestals—when their failings became evident and they proved themselves imperfect. One would think I’d have learned this lesson in my previous life.

I still liked Inleio, Mumu, and the rest. The only difference was that I now had to acknowledge they were human, with all the faults and imperfections that came along with it.

Well, good and bad were often bundled together. I’d have to remember that as I learned from them, and they hopefully learned from me. We’d just have to navigate our differences along the way. And there was no time like the present to get started—to lay the groundwork for an informal campaign against abusing darklight.

I retold the story of Ikiira to every hunter who’d listen. Wide-eyed and innocent, I regaled them with the heroism of her sacrifice. In doing so, I boosted Ikfael’s standing while also reminding them about the reason for the village’s taboo against using darklight.

If Inleio was angry as a result, he didn’t show it. He did work me to the bone during training, but that was normal for him. The only difference was that many more hunters joined the sessions. He even scheduled extra, which practically every hunter attended. They all wanted their skills sharp and polished for the upcoming hunt.

At the end of the final session, before I went back to the Glen the next day, Inleio made an announcement: Borba had volunteered to become a mule. He was doing it in service to the village and to make amends for his crime of murdering Grunthen.

The room gasped. Whatever exhaustion the hunters had felt seemed to instantly evaporate. They became rowdy, and called out questions.

“How do we know Borba murdered Grunthen?”

“He confessed,” Inleio said, “under the effects of the truth-telling tea.”

“But why did he do it?”

“He loved Kiertie, and learned that Grunthen had left her to die to the kalihchi bear.”

“What about Borba’s team? What do they say?”

“I asked Borba to speak to them about his crime, and they support him in his decision.”

“Using darklight is wrong. What if the spirits punish us? What if Borba loses control and attacks one of us?”

“We will use the darklight in this way just one time, and it will be Borba and Borba alone who will absorb it. He is doing so under careful supervision. We are also canceling all the hunts prior to the King of the Forest. We don’t want anyone to get hurt beforehand, and we’ll be using that time to prepare.”

“What about meat for the village?”

“The lodge will use its stores to make up for any shortages.”

The questions continued for another hour, but they were variations of what had already been asked. Mostly, it was the gossips who kept things going, intent on prying loose any details they could of Grunthen’s sensational death. I had no doubt the news would spread through the whole village by nightfall.

Afterward, several hunters approached me. They knew I’d been investigating Grunthen’s murder, and were curious if I was somehow involved in solving the mystery.

“Yes, I helped uncover some of the details,” I said, “but now we’re all involved in the aftermath. Grunthen’s death is a tragedy that affects the whole village. That’s why we all need to work together to defeat the kalihchi bear and, afterward, to make sure no one else is forced to become a mule to make amends for a crime. We should be helping each other perfect our paths, not leading each other astray.”

Had my story-telling rushed Inleio’s revelation of Borba’s fate? If so, it hadn’t been my intention to force his hand. I’d already conceded the short-term, and was looking more toward permanent change.

Yuki and I checked on Ghitha later that night. He was furious at the loss of a pawn and worried his involvement in the murders would come to light. Stupid, stupid Borba. Ghitha knew the man felt guilty, but enough to confess? That was unexpected.

Fortunately, there were no witnesses to Bindeise’s death, and Ghitha had never talked to anyone about it. No, he was safe—his only crime was not accusing Borba of murder. But then, he’d never said he had any evidence. The fool Borba had believed him from the beginning without ever asking how he knew.

Supposedly, that boy Eight could see ghosts, but the dead were silent, a blessing of the god Tenna to keep them from influencing the living. Still, it would be best to avoid the Hunter’s Lodge and stay close to home. Anything needing to be done could be done by Banan’s team. They were certainly paid well enough. The state of the family’s coffers attested to that.

That would change soon. Ghitha only needed to hold out until the King of the Forest was dead and the caves beyond the bear’s den were accessible. It would take time to find the eilesheile without Kiertie’s map, but he trusted that Banan’s team could do it. They were competent, unlike those in Voorhei’s Hunter’s Lodge. All Ghitha had to do was to last until the hunt for that damned bear.

The kids were in a good mood at dinner that night. They’d heard about Borba becoming a mule, and the consensus in the village was that it improved the chances for a successful hunt. Their attitude surprised me.

“But isn’t it bad to absorb darklight?” I asked.

“Yes,” Billisha said. “Don’t, or it’ll lead you astray from your path.”

“So why is it okay for Borba to do it?”

“Because that’s his decision,” Billisha said.

“He was forced to do it as part of his punishment.”

“Borba’s choice was made when he murdered Grunthen.” Billisha looked at me like all this should be obvious.

Exasperated, I said, “If it’s wrong to absorb darklight, then it’s wrong no matter the circumstances. The lodge is forcing Borba to stray from himself. I can’t think of a worse thing to do to a person.”

Billisha shook her head. “It’s wrong for you to absorb darklight, Zasha, because you must be protected. For others? If they choose to do so and it helps our family to survive, then we let it happen.”

So practical, our Billisha. I remembered, then, that she’d been trained to one day take over the Skinner’s Lodge of her village. Were all lodge masters this utilitarian?

She saw my dissatisfaction with her answer. “The gods blessed us with the power to choose, Zasha. It’s not our place to limit their blessing. All we can do is to make the best choices ourselves, and make the most of others’ choices.” Billisha smiled sadly. “My father… he used to say that whenever he faced a difficult decision.”

“A wise man, your father.”

Billisha nodded. “Mmm. He was.”

The mood shifted as the others began to think of their lost loved ones. I wanted to continue discussing darklight, but their melancholy overwhelmed the meal. It occurred to me then that I was being an ass. The lesson on darklight could wait.

I knew too little about the kids’ lives before I’d met them—of their families and their village. The same was true about Bihei and her life before she’d met us.

“Tell me about him,” I said to Billisha. “About your father. And your mother and the rest of your family. Let’s remember them tonight and honor what they passed on to you.”

The request surprised Billisha, but she quickly took up the tale, eager to share but sad. That was true for Aluali and Bihei too. I couldn’t leave them out.

The kids sheepishly asked about my family too, and I told them what I could about a father who ran hot and cold, a manipulative mother, a kind grandfather, a demanding grandmother, and an annoying younger brother. As for my wife and children, well… maybe I’d tell them eventually, when both they and I were ready.

The evening was a long and sad one, but we awoke the next day brighter for it.

Alas, the mood didn’t last. The next morning brought Borba to Bihei’s doorstep. She yelped when she opened the door and quickly called me over.

He didn’t look much different at first glance. He—or someone—had taken pains to make sure he was dressed neatly and his hair was combed. If he hunched a little, that could be explained by the intensity of recent training. Every hunter in the village was sore. His eyes, though… they bulged just enough to give away that something was off, and he kept his arms folded and his hands hidden from view.

Borba the Murderer (Human, Dusk)

Talents: Hard-Working, Lean, Enduring, Rage

Nascent: Siphon

He’d absorbed enough darklight to reach Level 5, and had acquired new talents in the process. The Rage was typical of the dusk, but Siphon had me stumped.

Two of Borba’s teammates accompanied him. They were clearly his escorts, but they hung back to give him the semblance of private conversation. Borba didn’t say anything though. He simply stared through me.

“Do you need anything?” I asked.

“I—I thought I’d see—” Borba slurped, like his mouth was too full of saliva. “You have so many talents, so I thought maybe I would understand mine by looking at you. But I don’t see anything. Just, just someone who—” He began to breathe heavily, and a red flush crept up his neck to his face. “I should go,” he said and practically ran away.

I turned to find the kids and Bihei watching. “He doesn’t look well, does he?”

“The false ones look neat and clean,” Aluali said, “but they’re still monsters on the inside.”

“And whether Borba turns into a monster or not, that’s his path,” Billisha said.

“And what do you think?” I asked Bihei. She hadn’t said anything last night when we’d talked about Borba’s fate.

“If not for him,” she said quietly, “the last Long Dark would not have been so terrible. I might still have my family if Grunthen had been at the walls. I’m not one to begrudge a person their path, but if Borba’s leads him astray, I’ll not cry over it. My tears have all been shed for those that mattered to me.”

There was no sympathy to be found among any of them, which given what they’d survived was to be expected. The villagers were traumatized, and constantly being retraumatized. By bandit raids, the Long Dark, and so much more. And nothing would change until they felt some measure of safety. Trauma was a closed-off space, with the body and mind obsessed with protection above all else. There’d be no opening for anything new until both could be soothed.

Another use for the Grace spell? Maybe, but I wanted to think long and hard about that. The consequences felt heavy.

For now, I stuck around to help with the fields. I was anxious to get back to the blynxes, but I wasn’t willing to leave the kids or Bihei as they were. There wasn’t anything I could say that I hadn’t already. All that was left was to keep them company.

36

The Calm Before

I stopped by the Glen on the way to the blynxes’ den to make sure I still had Ikfael’s permission to bring them home. She’d been skeptical when I’d first proposed my plan to tame them, but once I’d explained the benefits, she had agreed to let them stay. It would only cost an additional fish a week. What a bargain.

Ikfael gave me the okay sign, and I was immediately on my way again. My heart wouldn’t rest until I saw that the blynxes were all right.

There were more wolf prints along the way—and stranger yet, signs of elk, moose, and musk oxen passing through as well. It was a mess, actually; the mental map of their territories I’d learned was thrown into confusion.

The blynxes ended up being fine, but I nearly had a heart attack when I saw the mother was missing. It was just the two kittens hiding in the fallen log until—heart attack number two—the mother appeared out of nowhere. She brought an eviscerated hare with her.

The mother blynx eyed me as if I had designs on her kill, so I stepped away from the log. Only then did she yowl, and the kittens came tumbling out of the log. She stood proudly as she watched them eat.

One tore away a couple of bites, but then ambled over to his mother for a drink. She batted him away, toward the hare. Both of the kittens were male, and this was the smaller of the two, his fur colored a little lighter than the other. In my head, I called him Felix.

His brother was slightly bigger and darker. He also tended to be clumsier and more rambunctious. I called him Oscar.

Only when Felix had eaten another few bites did his mother give in and let him have milk. Oscar, seeing his brother get permission, rushed over to join him. The three of them looked so wholesome.

The hare probably wouldn’t have thought things were so good, but that was life, eh?

I unfurled the Grace spell to build on the feeling of wellbeing, and Yuki came out into the open for the first time. The portion of them that had been hiding in Bihei’s longhouse—the one originally in Borba—had returned to join the main body during my last visit to Voorhei.

Now, they separated again and moved around the area, exploring, before rejoining my body. This repeated several times; hopefully it got the blynxes used to the idea of Yuki entering and exiting a body, causing no harm in the process.

The mother watched. Her expression reminded me of a cat at the window looking at the people passing by: curious, but unconcerned. The real worry was the kittens—they wanted to pounce on Yuki. Not that it’d do them any good. Yuki had Dog’s Agility well in hand by now. And failing that, Camouflage and Scentless Hunter. And failing all that, they could transform into qi and dive back into my body.

I laughed when Oscar, giving heedless chase, bumped into my leg. Felix followed him right after.

They played, sometimes under the effects of Grace and sometimes not, and every time the spell was in effect, I moved a little closer to the mother. Bit by bit I approached until I sat next to her. She was still possessive of the hare’s remains, so I kept her between it and me. That seemed to mollify her.

Time passed, and the kittens finally tuckered themselves out. They stumbled into the log and were soon asleep in a pile. I noticed the mother’s eyes starting to droop as well. That’s when Yuki came out one last time, and I offered them to her.

The blynx sniffed at Yuki, curious about the thing that had had her kittens so excited. Grace spread between us, and she felt my and Yuki’s intentions. With a yawn, she turned on her side and let them in.

I kept watch while Yuki focused on the portion of themselves inside the blynx. The area around her den was quiet now that the kittens were asleep. Dusk was only a couple hours away, and she’d probably go hunting again then. Lynxes, as I knew them, were nocturnal hunters. Blynxes, however, didn’t seem to care much about time of day, so that was just a guess on my part.

I yawned, the sight of the drowsing blynx contagious. I felt my eyes grow heavy within the comfort of Grace. When the spell ended, nothing changed except that the black tufts at the ends of her ears swiveled as she became more alert. The white fur on her belly looked so soft, I wanted to pet it, but yeah, no—that wouldn’t be smart. One day though.

The rest of her fur was a blend of grays and browns. Thick too, although it’d likely get much thicker when winter came. Her paws were enormous—at least five inches across—which would also help in the snow. Interestingly, her hind legs were longer than her fore legs, so she leaned forward when she walked.

How’s it going in there? I asked Yuki.

Her qi is cool, but her dantians are warm, which causes an interesting confluence when they meet. The effect is unfamiliar and fascinating.

Focus, Yuki. You’re supposed to be getting her permission to stay inside, remember?

Already done. Communicating with her is very similar to the old days when all we could do was bundle thoughts, emotions, and instincts together. Her… vocabulary is different, but not complex. No, it is complex in its own way, just not hard to understand. Not after all the effort we’ve put into understanding Ollie/Eight.

“I’d really love to know what rank your Communication skill is,” I muttered.

Yuki, my cheeky friend, responded, Higher than yours, we’re sure.

I was going to retort… but realized they were probably right. I mean, I’d been learning Diaksh at an accelerated rate, but I had the benefit of knowing multiple languages prior. Yuki had gone from being pre-verbal to fluent in both English and Diaksh over the course of—what—a couple of months? It was incredible, really. Inconceivable.

We don’t think that word means what you think it means.

I snorted, the reference catching me by surprise. Yuki’s sense of humor was also rapidly developing, and my estimation for their Intelligence attribute went up again.

“When did you read The Princess Bride?”

We watched the movie. You were asleep, and we found the memory next to a conversation with Helen about Mel Brooks.

“The connection being the actor Cary Elwes.”

Yes, that’s right. We liked him in The Princess Bride, but didn’t think Robin Hood Men in Tights was Brooks’ best work.

“That would be Blazing Saddles.”

Please. It was Young Frankenstein.

“Well, that’s a classic, I won’t deny it, but… wait, hold on, should we really be talking about movies at a time like this?”

Yuki sent the emotional equivalent of a shrug. We’re mapping her meridians and looking for the best places to observe her abilities in action. Talking is a free action.

And there was a Dungeons & Dragons reference. Ah, I wonder if we can play. I could carve the dice, and Ikfael draw the scenes, and… focus, Ollie.

I sighed. The problem was that the setting was just too damn idyllic. The air was warm, and the late-afternoon sun peeked through the trees to dapple the ground with light. In the distance, crickets chirruped and birds sang. The wind rustled the branches of the trees above. The mother blynx’s eyes were closed, although her ears continued to twitch.

There were some dark clouds on the horizon, but from the way the wind was blowing, they’d probably pass us by.

Yuki snorted. Seriously, just go into the den and take a nap. We’ll stay alert for danger. But cast Grace first. We’re about to try something tricky.

“Tricky? What?”

To connect with her nervous system. Not permanently, though. We’ve learned our lesson on that.

The whole point of us not merging our consciousnesses was for me to keep watch while Yuki worked, but I was so tired. Not only physically, but also emotionally and mentally. A nap sure did sound nice.

I cast Grace and crawled into the fallen log. The blynx perked up, but settled down when she saw me getting comfy.

“Be careful,” I said, and a beat later I was asleep.

I woke up with a face full of sleeping kittens, and carefully pried them loose. Their mother sat outside, awake now. Dusk was settling onto the land, and the breeze gusting into the den was chillier than before. The air smelled damp too—the wind must’ve shifted and brought the dark clouds our way after all.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I asked Yuki, How goes it?

Her anatomy is extraordinary. We found the qi and mana channels by pulsing the energies through her, but the source of body power eludes us. We don’t know which parts of her anatomy are relevant or involved. But we’ll talk about that later. Yuki paused to confirm something within the blynx, then said, There’s a storm coming, and we were just about to wake you. Here, it’ll be easier to show you. Yuki’s attention shifted to the main body inside me, and we merged.

We felt gratified at the refreshed state of our combined consciousness. Yuki’s encouragement of Ollie/Eight to take a nap had indeed been the right choice. The human body and mind needed regular rest to operate at peak efficiency.

Observation confirmed, we shifted our attention back to the portion of ourselves inside the mother blynx. Her attention was on the bushes and trees shaken by the wind. Her ears swiveled, listening intently as anxiety grew within her. She sniffed at the air, and the scent association made her uneasy.

We knew the scent well: the mixture of ozone and nitrogen dioxide left in the aftermath of lightning. The wind was blowing it ahead of the oncoming storm. The blynx also picked up the sound of distant thunder.

Excitement spiked through us. It was tempered, though, by the understanding that no matter how much Ollie/Eight loved lightning, the King of the Forest loved it more. Every time there’d been a serious thunderstorm above these woods, the bear had run rampant and driven all the other creatures from their territories. The unideer and the bishkawi had both invaded the Glen in the aftermath of thunderstorms.

The blynx also associated lightning with the King’s rampages, and instinct drove her to pick up the kittens one by one and take them deeper into the den to hide. They mewled at being woken abruptly, but their mother licked them to settle them down.

We returned to our body and made preparations to go back to the Glen in case it needed defending. It should be safe to leave the mother and kittens for now—the chances that the King or some other creature would come across the den were reasonably low. Yet we hesitated to leave them. Low was not nil.

The mother’s eyes glowed in the dim light of the den. She paused her care of the kittens to watch us watching her. Then she stood and came to the entrance, batted our arm down so that we were within reach, and bit the side of our jacket’s collar to drag us into the den. She was trying to protect us.

We knew then that we couldn’t leave the blynxes behind to face the uncertainty of the future alone. That was not something Ollie/Yuki/Eight would do, so we shifted our attention into her body and projected a series of thought-emotion-sense bundles: a cozy den with much prey nearby, a warm fire on cold nights, and the protection of a friendly spirit who watched over it all.

The blynx purred as the sense bundles washed over her consciousness. Her instinct was to stick to the den she knew—that was where safety lay for her and her kittens—but the promise of sheltering with Ikfael drew her like iron to a lodestone. She possessed an innate understanding of the power of spirits of the land.

Resolution spiraled out from this deeper instinct, and we felt her intent to move. She urged us to pick up Felix, while she grabbed Oscar by the nape. And just like that we were out in the gusting wind—kitten in one hand, spear in the other, and the mother blynx chasing behind.

The treetops shook, and the sky darkened. Dusk approached, and the clouds sweeping in from the east hastened the light’s departure. We enchanted our eyes with qi and nature mana, which helped, but once night fell we’d be hard pressed to continue moving quickly.

Bushes and branches whipped against us. The scent of lightning grew, and our heart, which was already beating fast, beat faster. A wild joy threatened to overwhelm our good sense.

We suppressed the urge to throw ourselves into the storm and redirected the joy into running—transforming it into a wild dash home, with a promise at the end to dance in the rain and revel in the thunder and lightning.

The rain had begun to fall just as we arrived. Ikfael was waiting for us by the pool’s edge, and we separated consciousnesses to allow her to talk to Ollie/Eight.

“There are three,” Ikfael signed. “We agreed on one.”

Without Yuki’s steadying influence, I felt restless, like there were ants under my skin. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the horizon.

“There were kittens.” I said and held out Felix. “We couldn’t leave them behind.”

“No, I suppose not,” Ikfael signed. “All right, they can stay. Just make sure they behave.”

I could already tell that was going to be a challenge. Felix squirmed to escape from my arms to follow after Oscar, who’d gotten loose to explore the pool’s edge.

Their mother was much more careful—she approached Ikfael in a crouch with downcast eyes. “Yeorwl.”

Translation, Yuki?

Question-stay-protect.

Ikfael stared at her before sighing. “Whatever. You can stay. Given the way things have been going, another set of claws will be useful. Just… just… never mind…you’ll figure it out.” The otter dove into the pool and disappeared.

For a moment before she left, I felt the tickle of spirit magic from her, but then it was gone as quickly as she.

The mother blynx stood to her full height and looked around the Glen. She moved off to explore too, with more intention than her kittens. But before she could wander away to start marking her new territory, I asked Yuki to bring her to me, and I showed her how to get to the cave behind the waterfall.

Then I started a fire inside the cave and brought in some greenery that’d serve as a sleeping place for her and her kittens, which she promptly ignored to instead express interest in my bed.

Yuki, the traitor, agreed with her. Warm, cozy, and safe. What could be better?

“I could do without the fleas,” I said.

They’re all gone, Yuki said. Ikfael’s Blessing took care of them.

Really? I hadn’t forgotten that her blessing protected against small insects and vermin while within the Glen. I just hadn’t thought she’d share it with the blynxes so quickly. Was our Ikfael warming up?

I grinned, thinking that might be the case, danced a little jig, and made for the top of the cliff to watch the storm roll in—and to keep an eye out for invading creatures, of course. But mostly the storm.

It was a humdinger. The wind and rain lashed the woods with a ferocity I hadn’t seen yet in this world. The spirits of the trees raged right back at the sky. It was impossible to tell who was angrier.

Lightning fell in waves. There were long minutes when the night sky was constantly lit with its fire. The qi sparked in the air, and I spun Dog’s Agility through me to slow the world down and watch the lightning’s dance.

Gods, but it was glorious.

I drank deep from the storm, and the qi roiled through my meridians, spilling over into my muscles, bones, and bloodstream. I felt like I could cast a hundred Spiral Pierce spells in a row. That I could climb a thousand mountains, then jump into the sky to where the lightning lived.

Yuki flew higher. They sucked in the qi faster than me, and their tank went much deeper than mine. A glimpse was all it took to tell that even their prodigious reserves were overfull.

So much energy! There had to be something I could do with it other than enjoy the way it buzzed through me.

Yuki was of the same mind, and they ran through experiment after experiment, attempting to use the lightning qi to propel the next refinement of my own qi. We joined our consciousnesses to better harness all the resources at our disposal.

We applied esoteric qigong practices, drew symbols that only our grandmother would recognize, extrapolated on our understanding of the Hunter’s Lodge’s practices… and maybe even attempted to Kamehameha. The lightning qi was slippery though, bending to our will but resisting at the same time. The experience was frustrating, infuriating, and we loved every second of it.

Ultimately, we were unsuccessful. Although we became more practiced at working with the lightning qi, our efforts to refine our own qi faltered.

Two hours before dawn, the storm finally broke. A smattering of rain still fell, carried by a laggard wind, but the lightning’s fury was spent.

Yuki and I separated, and I lay on the ground exhausted, as if I’d trained the whole day at the lodge. My skin, my hair, and my clothes were all soaked through, but I wasn’t cold. Not just because of Ikfael’s Blessing either. The lightning qi still buzzed through me.

A quick check with Yuki told me that the blynxes were well and safe. Unlike me, they’d spent a cozy night in the dry cave.

Gods, but my whole body felt like it’d been hammered. I did some slow stretches to ease the kinks and sore spots, and that turned into an early-morning yoga session at the top of the cliff. I needed to put the lightning qi to use or it wouldn’t let me rest, no matter how worn I was.

Moving in an eight-year-old body felt so good, a true luxury even with all I regularly put it through. So much better than the constant aches and pains that came with old age. It was a real joy to focus on the yoga’s movements and breathing. Where it made sense, I included some of the lodge’s stretching and strength-building poses.

Inside, Yuki watched the qi flow and looked for inspiration for more experiments.

Life, for the moment, was good.

Alas, it didn’t last. I was just about to enter savasana, the resting pose meant to nourish the body at the end of a yoga session, when I heard Ikfael scrambling up the slope.

The sun wasn’t up yet, and clouds covered the moon and stars, so I had to enchant my eyes to see her. Even then, all I got was the barest outlines. I switched to my spirit eyes, and that was better. At least I could see well enough to read her paws when she signed.

She pulled my weapons from her pocket and dumped them at my feet. “Something’s crossed the Glen’s boundary. Get ready.”

36

The Glen Disturbed

Ikfael signed that the invaders were approaching from the southeast. I climbed an oak at the top of the cliff for a better view, but there wasn’t any sign of them yet. The woods were still riled up from the storm earlier, so my spirit eyes weren’t of help either.

Ikfael hid in the bushes below the tree. She chirruped to get my attention. “Wolves,” she signed. “At least five.”

Yuki had already passed a warning to the blynx, so she and her kittens were safe inside the cave. How safe would depend on how we handled the wolves. Five was… an uncomfortable number. I quickly climbed down to get ready.

I dabbed chishiaxpe poison onto my arrowheads just as a wolf carefully stepped out from the greenery surrounding the pool. There was just one for now. He was taller than me—about four feet from the ground to the base of his ears. His coat was a mix of platinum and gray fur, and even at a distance, I could tell his paws were enormous. He paused to sniff and listen.

Silver Wolf (Animal)

Talents: Gifted Tracker, Keen Senses, Hardy

I took a breath and mentally ran through the order of spells I’d be using: enchantments on my bow and arrows, then Dog’s Agility, and as many Spiral Pierces I could release before having to reposition, then Camouflage and Scentless Hunter. But first, the other wolves had to show. I didn’t want to waste the ambush.

The wolf scout approached the pool to drink. That must’ve been a signal, because three more wolves followed him into the open. They were of a similar size and coloring, but some had spots. No… those were clotted wounds.

I readied my draw, but hesitated. Where was the fifth wolf? A quick glance didn’t show anything approaching my position.

Yuki?

There are no disturbances in the qi nearby, they said.

I checked the other wolves’ statuses for anything out of the ordinary. There were talents like Swift, Relentless Hunter, and even a Playful Mouser, but nothing resembling hiding skills, invisibility, or anything like that.

The wolves stayed at the edge of the pool. Two, the ones with the most apparent injuries, laid down to rest while the others stood watch.

I glanced at Ikfael. She held the magic knife in her paws, but her posture was a thinking one. She must’ve felt me watching, because she looked my way.

“Where is the fifth wolf?” I whispered.

Ikfael nodded to show she’d heard me and gestured toward where the wolves had first emerged. It was still in the bushes, then. Maybe it was shy?

“Well, I’m not going to wait any longer. Four is good enough.”

Ikfael nodded and readied the knife. The scent of water mana wafted from her. As I drew the bow and clad the arrow in Spiral Pierce, the fifth wolf stepped into the open. My target shifted, and I blinked to get a read on his talents before releasing.

Moonlight Wolf (Animal, Dawn)

Talents: Moonlit, Discerning Eyes, Uncommon Wisdom, Leader of the Pack, Beloved of Leiluminwei

His eyes immediately snapped to our position. Already at the edge of releasing, I loosed the arrow. Dog’s Agility sped through my limbs and fingers, and I almost instantly had another arrow nocked. The target, however, was gone. The moonlight wolf—all the wolves—vanished, and my arrow broke against the stone.

“Oh, hells.” I covered myself in Camouflage and Scentless Hunter, grabbed Ikfael, and dashed to a hiding place farther upstream. It was the same spot where we’d hidden when we killed the unideer.

Breathing hard, I settled into position and readied to draw again. A minute passed. Then two and three. Ikfael squatted alongside, peering with me into the darkness. After a half hour of waiting, nothing had emerged.

Yuki, can you ask the blynx to investigate? I hesitated to make the request, but I figured she’d be able to stay hidden through Camouflage and blink away if she was spotted. However, it would mean leaving the kittens—

We have talked to the kittens, and instructed them to hide under the bed. They were admonished to be quiet.

What? How?

With their mother’s permission, of course. Don’t worry, we were careful not to harm them while inside their bodies.

I… okay, that’s fine. What about the mother? I asked.

One moment.... Yuki’s attention focused on the blynx. She’s puzzled about the promised protection. Hiding is acceptable, but there was an expectation that the spirit’s defense would be more active.

We’re working on it! I said, frustrated. It’s why we’re asking for help, so that we can move to the active phase. We just need to know where the wolves are first.

One moment… Oh, that’s interesting… We wonder…

What? What’s going on?

There’s a wolf out in the open, Yuki said. The moonlight one.

And the others? I asked.

Gone, Yuki said. Or at least nowhere the blynx can see.

I didn’t trust that the wolves weren’t somehow in earshot, so I put down my weapons to free my hands for signing: “Yuki says there’s only one wolf by the pool. The others are gone.”

Sitting on his haunches, Yuki said. Like he’s waiting.

Oh, I didn’t like that. Not one bit. I asked Ikfael, “Can you send a water projection to see if we can bait them out?”

“Yes, I’ve learned a trick or two recently.” Ikfael’s smile was wicked, and I was reminded of just how sharp her teeth were. “This will be a good mission for Knight Otter.”

We snuck back to the edge of the cliff to overlook the Glen. The moonlight wolf sat exactly where Yuki had said he was. I readied my bow and nodded to Ikfael. She nodded back, and suddenly there was a disturbance in the pool below.

An otterized human pulled herself from the water along with a spear. My breath caught—that was Bearbane, the spear she’d been gifted by Inleio. A quick glance to the side showed Ikfael grinning wide. She’d never been able to carry something as heavy as a spear with her water creations before.

The Knight Otter strode toward the wolf. I prepared to draw, but the wolf didn’t react to her approach. None of the other wolves appeared either.

“Does he know she’s not real?” I whispered.

Ikfael didn’t answer. She had the knight strike a pose, a hand on her hip and spear resting on the ground. The wolf watched her, and his head quirked to the side.

The knight reached down and flicked a pebble at the wolf. His form shimmered as it passed through. I sighed in understanding—what we were seeing was an illusion.

Then a small stick flew out from the bushes. It bounced off of the knight’s body, but caused the impacted area to wobble. I caught a hint of spirit from where the stick had originated, but it was gone before I could react.

We were at an impasse—both their illusion and ours were recognized. I tossed aside several plans as unfeasible or reckless given how little we knew about the moonlight wolf’s abilities. Unless… the wolf’s name is literal and his ability is tied to the moon? In that case, we could wait him and the other wolves out. Dawn was only an hour away; the sky was already starting to edge lighter in the east.

I whispered to Ikfael. “Let’s wait to—”

A wolf came out of the bushes, one of the injured ones. His steps were tentative, but he approached the Knight Otter and lay down in front of her.

What’s this? A sacrifice? Payment to let them stay in the Glen?

Another Knight Otter appeared, shimmery and not as stable as Ikfael’s creation. She stroked the injured wolf’s fur. The area where her hand touched glowed, and the injuries healed. A second injured wolf appeared, and the scene repeated itself. A third wolf stepped out from the bushes, carrying something in his mouth. I couldn’t make out what exactly, but she placed the item in front of the second Knight Otter. It looked to be a payment in exchange for the healing.

The wolves promptly vanished, along with the second knight. They’d fooled me again; I had been sure the injured wolves were real.

The illusion of the moonlight wolf reappeared and waited for the Knight Otter’s response to their offer.

“What do you think?” I asked.

The knight gestured to the wolf to wait, then returned Bearbane to the pool. Once the spear was safely stowed, the knight dissolved, the water spilling back into the pool.

“I don’t know,” Ikfael signed. “What do your eyes tell you?”

“I see: Moonlit, Discerning Eyes, Uncommon Wisdom, Leader of the Pack, and Beloved of Leiluminwei.”

Ikfael seemed to be startled by the name, quickly signing, “What?”

“You know this Leiluminwei?” I asked.

“He is another spirit of the land,” Ikfael said, tapping her chin in thought. “His avatar is a great egret. I’ve met him once or twice.”

“Does that mean he can be trusted?”

Ikfael looked at me, her eyes stern. “No, of course not. But if it’s an exchange, it should be all right.” She gazed at the wolf below. “That he has chosen a beloved is surprising. No wonder the wolf’s ability is so strong, Leiluminwei invested his power in him; I wonder what the wolf gave up in return.”

There was a lot to unpack in what Ikfael had just said, but my curiosity would have to wait—at least until the wolves were gone. I cleared my throat. “Let’s skip this fight if we can. No need to offend another spirit if we can avoid it.”

“I agree,” Ikfael said. Her next signs were brisk, like she’d made her decision. “Follow—I may need your hands—but stay hidden until I call for you. If things go badly, I’ll pull them into the pool while you attack from Camouflage.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Not a good one, but it will do for the situation we’re in.”

Ikfael hiked down to the pool with the magic knife still in her paws. I took a more surreptitious route, sneaking from one tree to the next.

The illusory wolf perked up at her approach. A stick flew from the bushes, but Ikfael batted it aside. She snorted loud enough for me to hear it from a hiding spot behind a maple tree.

The wolf bowed as if in apology, and his body dissipated like smoke. His likeness then stepped from the bushes and laid something at Ikfael’s feet. Metal glinted at the end of a… strap? Maybe it was a belt? I couldn’t quite tell.

Ikfael squatted to consider the item. The moment drew out, and the wolf shifted a time or two, waiting for her decision. Another wolf came out into the open and placed a second item on the ground. That one was too small for me to see.

Ikfael nodded and placed both items in her pocket. The wolves visibly sagged in relief, and the remaining members of the pack came out of hiding. They fell in exhaustion at the otter’s feet. All except for the moonlight wolf. He remained standing, even as the illusions surrounding his body evaporated and revealed his wounds.

He was covered in burns and cuts, and his silver fur was mangled and matted. It was a wonder that he was still alive. The other wolves were just as bad, the true extent of their injuries revealed at the same time.

Ikfael sighed. She gestured for me to join her, and I stepped out of hiding, letting my spells and the land go. The blynx continued to watch from Camouflage, and I was okay with that. It didn’t hurt to keep a card hidden away just in case.

I brought out the Grace bowl too, but Ikfael nixed the idea with a quick shake of her head. “You share yourself too easily,” she signed. “For this, healing only.” She gestured to one of the injured wolves, and said, “Start with this one. We’ll meet in the middle.”

The wolf eyed my approach but didn’t shy away from my hands. His ribcage was exposed by a gash, and there was a cut across his nape. Another couple of inches and it would’ve severed the blood vessels leading to his brain. Had it been the giant owl? That would explain the cuts, but what about the burns? Given the way this world works, it might still be the owl.

“You’re lucky to be alive, aren’t you?”

The wolf quirked his head, not understanding my words. I kept talking anyway, keeping my voice low and gentle. Ikfael snorted, but that didn’t stop me either. I cast Healing Water twice on the wolf to close his wounds, and when I was done, he popped up to stand guard over us.

I moved on to the next wolf. A bad burn had devastated this one’s face; one of her eyes was gone, the flesh blackened and suppurating. It smelled like burnt hair and bad barbecue.

The Healing Water spell couldn’t save the eye. Instead, the flesh and skin closed up, leaving the socket otherwise empty. Thankfully, the pus that’d started forming was gone, as were the other signs of infection. Two more casts of the spell and I was out of mana. The wolf was still injured, though, with more burns on her body. I’d need to meditate to recover my mana for more healing spells if I wanted to see her healthy.

A quick glance toward Ikfael told me that she was still working on the moonlight wolf. He was surrounded by five bowls, each with a different item suspended in water. It was the first time I’d seen the ritual being used on someone other than me.

I would’ve loved a closer look, but my questions would have to wait until the wolves’ suffering was eased. I closed my eyes to meditate—

—and opened them up again only a few minutes later when Ikfael placed a paw on my shoulder. The wolves were all on their feet, staring to the south. The light surrounding them shimmered, and they disappeared. They must’ve had the power to turn invisible in addition to being able to create illusions.

“Another creature has entered the Glen’s territory.” Ikfael wrinkled her nose. “It smells of undeath.”

“Back to the top of the cliff?” I asked.

Ikfael nodded, and we hiked up for the second time that morning. By that point, the sky had lightened—the clouds’ edges turning rosy pink—and I was able to see well enough without having to enchant my eyes.

We waited, but whatever the creature was, it was slow. A ponderous amount of time passed.

I found out why when a giant… Brussels sprout about eight feet tall became visible through the foliage. The creature had four stubby legs attached to a square-ish base, and the whole body flexed as it moved, stepping with two feet at a time like a caterpillar inching forward. Except, each time the body bowed, a maw at the top opened to release a hazy gas.

A bird fell from a branch above, and a vine snagged it out of the air and stuffed it into the creature’s maw. The vine had whipped out almost too fast to see. Four of them stretched from each of the creature’s corners.

Hellmouth (Undead, Dusk)

Talents: Poisoner, Choking Death, Death Grip, Whirling Death, Flourishing, Death Incarnate, Smoldering Rage

What the hell? Like seriously… what the hell? The hellmouth zombie owned three talents with the word death in them. It would’ve been four if one hadn’t been crossed out.

The trees and bushes around the hellmouth withered. Where it passed, the living died.

I glanced at Ikfael, looking for reassurance that we could tackle this thing, but she gazed down at the creature with troubled eyes. It was the first time that I had ever seen her truly disturbed.

“Do we run?” I asked, whispering.

“I can’t,” Ikfael signed. “I made an exchange to protect this place. But I can release you from yours. You won’t be able to live here anymore, but you’ll be safe.”

“No way. I won’t leave you to face this thing alone.”

“Don’t be a fool. Take Yuki and the blynxes and run. You don’t need me anymore. With your skills and talents you can easily make a life in Voorhei.”

“Ain’t happening, my dear Dr. Otter. I made a promise to help you defend the Glen, and I keep my promises. Besides, I’ve already died once before. I’m not afraid to do it again.” That was a big fat lie, but it sounded cool.

“Can we expect any help from the wolves?” I asked.

“Not if they’re as smart as I think they are,” Ikfael signed.

“What about the elder under the pool?”

“She will not be disturbed, no matter what.” Ikfael made a chopping motion to cut the idea short.

“I see. Okay, then what about you? Any hidden abilities or secrets to make this easier?”

“No.” It was a flat denial, but she glanced sideways at me. “Not yet, anyway.”

“So it’s hit and run, then,” I said, ignoring the trembling of my hands. “And we hope for the best.”

“I’ll fight from the water,” Ikfael said. “The poison won’t affect me, but you need to keep your distance. Stay out of reach of the vines too. Tell Yuki and the blynxes to do the same.”

You heard that?

Yes, but we should also join consciousnesses. It’ll help us better coordinate.

Right. That made sense. I should’ve thought of it myself, but the animal fear chittering in my head was making it hard to focus. Merging, we closed our eyes to send a prayer to Helen and our grandparents, to Diriktot and Meliune, and to the Deer God.

Our body hummed as the qi conserved within Yuki surged into Ollie/Eight’s body. It flowed in the intricate pattern of Dog’s Agility combined with Spiral Pierce. We opened our eyes and drew the bow. The arrow thrummed with power.

We smiled, though our expression was grim. “Showtime.”

A loud crack disturbed the early morning quiet. Our arrow punched through the mist and into the hellmouth, then sank a quarter of the way into the creature’s carapace. Our smile turned into a frown, and we released another arrow. This one sank halfway—still not deep enough to disrupt the zombie’s core.

Beside us, Ikfael disappeared into the stream. In her place, down below at the pool’s edge, Knight Otter appeared once more with Bearbane in hand. Her thrust was clean and elegant.

A vine knocked the spear aside before whipping back to cleave the knight in half. The two sections re-formed in the vine’s aftermath, and she thrust again.

We sent another two arrows downrange. Flexing the qi within Spiral Pierce to the utmost, we aimed for where we’d struck before. Both arrows punched into the carapace within inches of each other, but the creature buckled as it moved, making it impossible to ‘Robin Hood’ our arrows and hit the exact same spot each time.

The hellmouth’s vines whipped through the knight like a blender, and Ikfael couldn’t maintain the cohesion of her creation’s body. Bearbane dropped to the ground, water splashing around the spear.

The creature trundled in a circle to point itself toward the hillside. Knight Otter re-formed behind it, picked up Bearbane, and attacked. Except, the hellmouth sensed the approach, and blended her once more.

The hellmouth took a step to approach the hillside, but the knight wouldn’t stay down. She thrust, and the vines whizzed through her. Yet again, her body was disrupted, causing the water to fly in all directions.

We let Dog’s Agility go. The hellmouth was slow, and Ikfael was making it even slower. We did not need speed for this fight. No, this was a battle of endurance and attrition. It was also a puzzle; we had to find a way through the creature’s defenses.

We could continue casting arrows in the hopes of creating a weak spot in the carapace and breaking through, or we could attack a natural weak spot—say, the hellmouth’s maw. That idea appealed to us; it would be so satisfying to drop down on unaware prey like we had done so many times before as the uekisheile.

We looked at our bow. Though it was a friend to us, it didn’t have the weight of a proper hunting bow. Even if we managed to weaken the carapace, there was no guarantee our ensorcelled arrows would pierce deeply enough.

So, from above it would be then. How nostalgic.

“Lead the creature to the cliff face! We’ll attack the mouth!”

The Knight Otter nodded and dispersed—flowing across the ground to rise up closer to the cliff. She stayed out of the vines’ reach in order to lure the hellmouth in.

Yet the creature refused to approach. The knight was out of vine’s reach, but the creature was also out of her spear’s reach too. Nothing she did could threaten the hellmouth without coming closer. The only real damage done to it was through our arrows, and the creature was intent on heading in our direction.

Until the moonlight wolf arrived, appearing in the air. His illusion snapped at the hellmouth before reappearing beside Ikfael. Four more wolves followed, each seeming to attack before teleporting to a new position next to her. The wolves harried the hellmouth; their illusionary bodies didn’t do any damage, but they didn’t take any either. The vines whipped through them, just as they whipped through the knight.

They created a distraction for Ikfael, though, and the little minx made good use of it. She had a hidden card, after all—a stone javelin shot from the cliff face to blast into the hellmouth’s side.

The knight stopped moving then, and Ikfael materialized out of the cliff face to fall to the ground, gasping. That attack must’ve drained her.

The hellmouth shook in rage and began a slow charge toward Ikfael. We expected her to shift away, but the otter seemed to be struggling to pass through the stone. She laid her head against the cliff face, but nothing was happening.

Dog’s Agility flowed through us, and we dashed down the hillside. It was just ten steps altogether—a single heartbeat under the influence of Dog’s Agility—but it was enough to reach the area above the hellmouth. Then, we forced qi into our core, back, legs, and arms—we tugged our muscles close to our bones and balanced the push and pull within our body—to bring us to a sudden halt and create a stable firing platform.

We focused so intently, our qi tasted of ozone and nitrogen dioxide.

The world went still. The thrum of power disappeared. There was only us, the bow, and our prey. We drew. The hellmouth’s maw lay below us, open and belching poison.

A crack echoed like thunder, signaling to the world our determination to hunt. Our arrow descended like lightning.

The impact rippled through the hellmouth. The carapace bulged, and then sagged. The vines buzzing around its body slowed. As if it couldn’t believe the reality of its situation, the creature slumped. The massive weight of the bulb was suddenly too much for the stubby legs to carry. The shattered core’s darklight escaped into the air.

We had pushed too hard—the muscles all across our body felt like they were on fire. The stable platform we’d created collapsed, and we lost our footing, tumbling over the side of the cliff. Ikfael, exhausted, saw us. Her paw reached out, and a billowing wave of water broke our fall—like splashing into a giant bowl of jelly—then carried us to where she lay slumped on the ground.

We smiled, satisfied. “It was a good shot.” Then we grimaced as a wave of pain overwhelmed our body. We’d managed to sprain so many muscles; truly it was a remarkable feat.

Ikfael shook her head in disbelief, but said, “Yes. Yes, it was.” Somehow, she found the strength to splash us with Healing Water, and the pain receded.

We looked in concern at where the hellmouth lay dead. “What about the poison gas?”

Ikfael closed her eyes, the exhaustion plain on her furry face. “We should be safe as long as we don’t get too close. The gas will dissipate in about an hour or two.”

“Oh, good.” We lay back beside her, just as exhausted as she. There wasn’t anything else left for us to say or do, so we let our merged consciousnesses divide.

I looked over with worry at Ikfael. “You okay?”

“Tired,” she signed.

“Yeah, that stone javelin must’ve taken a lot out of you. I thought you said you didn’t have any secret abilities?”

“Not a secret,” Ikfael signed. “Just something I’ve been reluctant to practice. I… I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

The wolves came out of hiding then. For some reason they were wary of me, which I found funny.

“Peace, friends.” I gestured toward the dead hellmouth “Everything’s taken care of.”

Ikfael nudged me. “Not quite. We need to move the body. It stinks.”

“But it’s enormous,” I said. “And still releasing poison gas for another couple of hours. That’s what you said.”

Ikfael quirked her head at me and waited.

“Oh, all right. Fine. As soon as the poison is gone, I’ll deal with it.”

Ikfael smiled, pleased with herself.

“I just want to clarify. There’ll be no poison remaining in the body once the gas is gone?”

Ikfael nodded. I passed the message along to Yuki, who passed it onto the blynx, who in turn made sure the kittens behaved.

There was much to do—a carcass to haul away, silverlight to collect, and wolves to heal—yet none of it could happen immediately. The poison had to dissipate first, and our magical energies needed time to recover.

The wolves didn’t rush us. Instead, they watched with thoughtful eyes as Ikfael and I leaned against each other in the early-morning light.

38

Memory’s Voices

The stink from the hellmouth’s body worsened as the morning grew warmer, reminiscent of rotten kale with a healthy dose of putrefied pig offal mixed in. Going anywhere near it caused me to gag, and the poor wolves with their keen sense of smell must’ve suffered even more.

Moving to the far side of the Glen helped, but there was no escape when the wind shifted. The wolves’ fur shivered whenever it did, giving me a split-second’s warning, but I wasn’t always fast enough to hold my breath. It was better than doing nothing though.

By the time I’d fully healed Scout and Mouser, the names I gave the wolves based on their talents, Ikfael had finished the ritual for Moonlight. The wolf rose, and there was a presence in his posture that’d been missing before. His fur was a thick, rich silver-platinum with a white blaze on his chest. His eyes were alive.

There were two wolves left to heal, but Ikfael and I were both completely out of mana. I closed my eyes to meditate, but Ikfael put a paw on my shoulder.

“I’ll finish healing the wolves. You haul that body away.”

“It’s not good to let the wolves suffer longer than necessary,” I said.

Ikfael’s response was to point at the hellmouth’s body. Behind her, the wolves seemed to agree, even the injured ones.

“Tsk. All right. I said I’d do it, and I will. The poison’s gone for sure, right?”

Ikfael confirmed it was safe, so I wrapped a wet cloth around my nose and mouth and approached the body. Holy hells, but the smell was worse than the dragon dung—so bad my eyes watered.

The configuration of the hellmouth’s body was such that even if I could separate the half-open sprout from the base, it couldn’t easily be rolled. The only way to get rid of the body was to chop it into smaller pieces, stack them onto a travois, and haul them away. Thankfully, I had a proper ax now.

I got to work, and with every swing, the hellmouth’s body thunked or squelched. It was going to be a long day.

I’d hauled away the base and was halfway through the sprout when I spotted the shine of silverlight within the decomposing body. I reached inside to pull it free, but ribbons of plant fibers clung to the golf-ball-sized lump, almost as if they didn’t want to let go.

I shaved the fibers away with a knife, then pried the silverlight open to make sure there wasn’t any darklight hidden within; the nugget was big enough that I worried the silverlight might’ve encapsulated some of the darklight. And in fact, there was a piece as big as a pea hidden inside one of the silverlight chunks. I waited for it to dissipate before wrapping what was left in cloth and walking over to Ikfael.

The wolves retreated at my approach, and Ikfael waved me off. “Wash! Wash first!”

But even after I’d bathed, the otter and wolves wrinkled their noses when I came closer. By that point, my own sense of smell had been completely overwhelmed and I couldn’t smell a damn thing. I’d also been working hard all day—they could suffer a little along with me.

“I have the hellmouth’s silverlight,” I said to Ikfael. “Let’s go into the cave to deal with it.”

The wolves had been behaving, and I didn’t think they’d start any trouble over the silverlight, but I also didn’t want to tempt them either by showing off just how much silverlight there was. Ikfael must’ve agreed with me, because her expression turned serious. She nodded and followed after, moving to stay upwind of me.

Inside the cave, Ikfael used her knife to separate the silverlight into two equal portions. “Do you disagree?”

“No, no,” I said. “That’s fair. Just to make sure, though, the wolves don’t get any?”

Ikfael shook her head. “Their aid was not part of our exchange, and their involvement in the fight was minimal. It would be rude of them to lay a claim.”

“Well, no need to hesitate, then. Bottoms up.” I grabbed my portion of the silverlight.

“A moment.” Ikfael held up a paw to stop me. “You are strong enough now to consider using the silverlight in different ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can grow stronger,” Ikfael signed, “or you can feed the silverlight to your weapons and armor. Or give a larger portion to Yuki. Or start feeding it to the blynx. There is no one Path to Perfection, and each step is made of many smaller choices.”

My brow furrowed. “But my goal’s always been to get stronger. I was taught that Level 5 is an important milestone. The Path to Perfection truly starts there—when the body begins to transform at dawn or dusk. Are you recommending I do something different?”

“Not at all,” Ikfael said. “What I recommend is that you think and decide for yourself. To do otherwise is to walk another person’s path.”

“Ah, okay.” I stared at the nodules in my hand and considered the options.

Magic weapons were staple in fantasy stories and games, and I certainly wished for them. The new armor I’d commissioned was a step in that direction. My bow had already absorbed some silverlight, but that had been an accident. I could make it intentional in the future though. A bow that kept pace with the power curve would be nice.

Yuki was already dawn, and the blynx was still a variable. I didn’t think I was being greedy by not considering either for the silverlight.

I’m not being selfish, am I? I asked Yuki.

Mostly, Yuki said, amusement flickering through their qi. There’s selfishness underlying your thoughts, but we don’t believe your reasoning is wrong.

Oh. I frowned. If you want—

We will take our usual share, but no more, Yuki said. You are not the only one who would like you to become dawn. We will reconsider the amount we take once you catch up to us.

I nodded. That made sense. The body took its first steps transforming into something superhuman at Level 5, and as tempting as a stronger bow or sharper spear were, they couldn’t compare to an evolution.

I smiled and thanked Ikfael and Yuki for their counsel. Then, I reached for the silverlight.

483 silverlight gathered. 435 absorbed.

The energy whipped through me like the hellmouth’s vines. The world faded and became dark, filled only with death—a creeping decay, an endless hunger. There was a desire to grasp the quick and the living and bring them to eternal stillness.

When I regained my senses, I shivered, and my blood ran cold. Across from me, Ikfael’s fur stood on end and her face scrunched up like she’d tasted something bitter. The silverlight in front of her was gone.

“Unpleasant,” she signed.

“And yet the hellmouth served its purpose,” I said. “Like any other creature.”

Ikfael nodded. “True.”

Ah, there’s a notification blinking.

Poison Arts has increased from 0 to 1.

Poison Arts has increased from 1 to 3.

What? Is that from the silverlight?

Under the new skill, I found memories of old biology and chemistry classes, as well as more recent ones of hunting the chishiaxpe. There were also Otwei’s meditations on poison’s uses and Inleio’s lectures of the forest’s dangers. And behind all that, like a shadow clinging to the memories, was the feeling of a cold, slow death.

“Can… can a person learn a skill from silverlight?”

Ikfael quirked her head. “Memories are memories. Experiences are experiences. They build connections to the World Spirit no matter where they come from. A foundation is necessary—the groundwork done—but yes, it can happen.”

“And there are memories and experiences in silverlight?”

Ikfael’s expression became confused. “You’re not insensitive. Surely you’ve felt them. You must have.”

“I have,” I said, clarifying. “I just—” How had System-Eight described silverlight? “My understanding is that the cores are the remnants of life’s processes, the crusty stuff left over.”

“Yes? And?”

“The hellmouth’s silverlight felt more potent than that.”

Understanding dawned on Ikfael’s face. “Ah, you worry that you are somehow consuming the hellmouth’s essence? Then let me put you at ease: you are. But your understanding is also correct, silverlight is the ‘crusty stuff’ left over. It is both: an echo of a memory, but because it is made of silverlight, also a memory itself. Silverlight is the stuff from which the gods make life. How could it be otherwise?”

I took a breath to calm myself, then turned my attention inward to examine my other skills for remnants of silverlight. What I found was a lingering quickness hidden within Qi Body Arts. A closer look identified the sharp eyes of Kaad Keelsson, the bandit I’d killed when rescuing Billisha and Aluali.

I gulped, unnerved, but kept looking. Inside Aeromancy was the unideer’s icy touch and the giant eagle’s deft maneuvers. Within Survival Forest was the bishkawi. And there were even false ones hiding inside Camouflage. None of these traces were obvious until I went looking.

Ikfael must’ve noticed my discomfort. “Skills are constructed from individual strands of memories, experiences, and practices. With mastery, though, these individual strands unify into a coherent whole.”

I grew alarmed. “Until then, a person must contain multitudes as they rise in levels and skill. Doesn’t it dilute their sense of self? How can they stand it?”

Ikfael lobbed a question back. “Are you already whole? Aligned and perfect? If so, then let me honor you who has achieved this feat within so few years.” She bowed, but her movements were exaggerated, almost clownish.

“Stop that. I’m just disturbed is all.”

Amusement flickered across Ikfael’s face. “My point is that, even without silverlight, people are disjointed. As you say, they contain multitudes—the voices of their families, peers, leaders, and ancestors, as well as the stories told to them and the things they experience in life. All leave their marks. So too, then, does the silverlight of those we’ve slain.”

“So perfection is weaving them together into, what, a single voice?”

“A voice, a song, a tapestry, a dance—there’ve been many ways to describe Perfection.” Ikfael’s smiled turned gentle. “But not everything should be included. The remnants of these voices within us must be purified, the silver taken and the dark left behind.”

“And how do I do that?” I asked.

“By living and choosing well. By making mistakes and learning from them. By practicing skills and following your path until you can see into the heart of the world and recognize yourself in it.”

“Just that? No big deal,” I said, taking a turn at being ironic.

Ikfael smiled. “If that is a task too great, you can also just make donuts and provide the Glen with fish, deer, and other delectable treats.”

“Well, I imagine it’s possible to attempt both.”

Her smile spread. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

The wolves departed peacefully once they were all healed. The residue left by the hellmouth’s body—the bits too liquid to haul away on a travois—were washed clear by Ikfael with a wave of water from the pool.

By then it was late afternoon, and I was starving. I had eaten a little after the silverlight break, but my mind had been whirling from Ikfael’s talk, so I’d barely noticed the food at the time.

After a long bath and a deep scrub, I checked the refrigerator. Inside were just a couple of lonely squirrels, skinned and ready for the fire. The last of the eagle meat had gone to Bihei and the kids, and Ikfael liked to raid the refrigerator during my visits to the village. I mentally adjusted my schedule so that I could devote the next day to hunting and fishing.

I threw some salt on the squirrels and speared them with wooden stakes for a simple barbecue.

How many squirrels had I eaten in my previous life? There’d been summers as a kid when all I had done was read books and hunt squirrels. I had skinned them—the squirrels, not the books—and sold the pelts at the local flea market. The meat, I had ground up for burgers. Ah, maybe I can use a mortar and pestle to make burgers? That sounds delicious.

To answer your question, it was 173 squirrels, Yuki said.

“That many?”

Over the course of five years. The high point was when you were thirteen. You shot fifty-two squirrels that year.

“And why—”

We found the memory of when Helen had laughed the hardest, and it was the time you told her about Peter Wilson. Since the story involved squirrels, we became curious about your history with them.

I started to chuckle. “Oh, poor Peter.”

In 1967, Nancy Soder was the reigning most popular girl at Sherwood Middle School. Her position was firmly entrenched thanks to the relentless march of biology—she’d developed early, drawing followers like bees to flowers.

Me? I stayed away. My family had lived in the U.S. for six years by then, and that was enough to teach me that I never stood a chance—until she forgot her lunch one day and didn’t have pocket money for the cafeteria.

I didn’t know why she picked me. My guess was that I was the closest, and maybe the burger I’d brought from home looked good. It was squirrel meat, because while my father had finally found work, things were still tight at home. I didn’t dare tell Nancy though. I just stared in awe as she happily ate my lunch. I didn’t even think to consider all the other kids watching.

I managed to avoid the beating waiting for me after school—too slow, suckers!—but I couldn’t avoid the harassment during school. I avoided the bathrooms, of course, but the stairwell was murder. I got through the rest of the week though, and hoped things would soon settle down and the other kids would forget me, like they usually did.

Except that Nancy must’ve talked to her boyfriend Peter about how delicious the burger was, because he sat down next me one day and demanded I hand my lunch over to him. What could I do? He had his gang with him, and they were screening us from the teacher on lunch duty. Even if the teacher saw, I doubted she’d do anything. He was Peter of the baseball team, and I was this little Mexican kid.

I was mad. Of course I was. And I got madder every day as he continued to confiscate my lunch. It wasn’t always burgers, but it didn’t matter to Peter. My lunch was his lunch. It got so bad I complained to my homeroom teacher, but all she said was, “Things are tough for Peter at home. He’s probably not getting enough to eat. Let it go, dear. Think of it as helping the team.”

Well, that ticked me off, and I wanted to get back at Peter. I’d promised my grandfather, though, that I wouldn’t use the skills he’d taught me against another person unless the matter was serious, and… well… even as a kid I knew that burgers weren’t serious. So I kept my promise.

Then I had an idea for a special burger, just for Peter.

Over the next weekend, I spent every moment hunting squirrels. Not all of them were boys, but enough to be able to insert at least one special treat in the burgers I’d make from their meat. Peter was so pleased too. The burgers were delicious, after all. He just didn’t know that he was eating a squirrel penis with each one.

I certainly wasn’t going to tell him either. The knowledge was for me to enjoy.

Peter began to ask specifically for squirrel burgers after that. Apparently, he’d been playing really well whenever he ate one, and he came to see the burgers as a good luck charm.

I couldn’t keep up with the demand—I didn’t have the time, and the local squirrel population couldn’t handle it—but it happened enough that I earned some fame that year. And oddly enough, some protection. Peter told the other boys to lay off his squirrel-penis supplier. Well, to him they were just burgers.

After baseball season, Peter moved away and Nancy was… not heartbroken, but she did pout for a week. I learned later that Peter really did have a hard time at home, and I felt bad for him. But never for feeding him squirrel penises.

Is squirrel penis delicious? Yuki asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried one.”

We should. As an experiment.

“Some things are not meant to be tampered with,” I said, my voice flat.

Yuki pouted. That was the feeling I got from their qi, anyway. At first, it felt like Nancy Soder, but then it shifted to Helen’s pout, Alex’s, and Daniel’s, all in a sequence.

“You okay there?”

Yes, yes. Just playing with language.

The squirrels smelled like they were done cooking. I pulled the stakes up, then called Ikfael over for dinner. I put aside the middle school drama, the thoughts about silverlight, and everything else to focus on enjoying my meal.

Ah, the taste of squirrel—it sure was nostalgic.

The next morning saw the kittens gamboling in the Glen. Breakfast for them consisted of milk and a hare their mother had caught overnight. I slept so soundly, I hadn’t heard her leave or return.

Ikfael floated in the pool on her back, sometimes disappearing in the spray from the waterfall. Her breakfast had to wait until I caught it.

I grabbed my fishing spear and headed out. There was a beaver dam not too far downstream. I decided to try my luck there today. So what have you found? I asked Yuki while on my way.

The blynx is a patient hunter, and her night vision is exceptional. Her Camouflage uses a blend of body power and qi, different from the Hunter’s Lodge’s version, but we believe we can learn from it.

“You’re teasing me,” I said. “The Blink spell—”

Is out of reach. At least for now. The qi and mana components of the spell aren’t a problem—we’ve filled out the last of the patterns after observing her hunt. The body power portion eludes us, though, and requires time to understand how her biology and instinct operate together to Blink her through space. Yuki paused to mull over the problem.

“Is there any way to emulate the effects of body power with either qi or mana?”

I felt them rooting around in my memories. Like when you managed to play old Commodore 64 games on your PC?

“Yes, that’s right.”

Maybe. We’d prefer that over changing your biology. Neither of us understand the consequences enough to make that course of action wise or safe.

“Yeah, let’s not go there if we can help it. Then, the other thing we have to talk about is—”

The lightning qi. There was the scent of it when we shot our last arrow at the hellmouth.

“Any idea how that happened? We’ve tried so many times to control it, maybe one of the early attempts was slow to bear fruit?”

Maybe. Possibly. We don’t think so. Or perhaps we didn’t go far enough… Yuki trailed off, their qi turning in on itself in thought.

Far enough, eh? Likely they meant in altering our consciousness. Releasing the last arrow against the hellmouth had been a transcendental moment; it hadn’t been the first time I’d had one, but it had definitely been one of the most intense. The world felt like it had stopped, and it was just me and my prey. The arrow had arced between us—

There! That thought—it smelled like the leading edge of an epiphany, but I didn’t give chase. That’d be the fastest way to drive it back into my subconscious. Instead, I rolled up my pant legs and waded into the pond created by the beaver dam.

I lightly held my spear and watched for the fish to settle down, to get used to the feet that had suddenly joined them in the water. Slowly, they returned to the shallows where I waited. They swam unaware that death loomed over them.

With a flash, I speared a beautiful trout, its blood spilling into the water. One moment life, and then death. One moment the spear was in the air, the next in the water. Seemingly instant, but not really—no matter how fast the spearhead traveled, there was a path in between, an attraction. A movement from what was to what would be, with the briefest flicker of the present in between. A change from state to state.

Inside my heart, a spark lit and disappeared. It didn’t stay, but no matter—I’d caught my prey’s scent. Now, all I had to do was follow its trail to lightning qi.

39

Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt I

After a lunch of grilled trout, I spent the rest of the day filling the Glen’s larder. There was about two and a half weeks left before the hunt, and I needed to focus on preparing and not to have to worry about our next meal.

I began by foraging for fruits and vegetables: blueberries, fava beans, greens, plums, acorns, hickory nuts, onions, and yellow squash. Along the way, I caught sight of a beautiful stag. His antlers were still coming in for the year, but he was otherwise full-grown and well-muscled. I picked up his trail after dropping the groceries off at home, then stalked him for a good two miles before I found him resting in the shade of a pine tree.

With Spiral Pierce, I no longer had to worry about my bow’s lack of poundage for non-monsterized animals. The arrow penetrated right through to the heart.

Afterward, I dressed the stag and dragged him home on an improvised travois. A couple of hours later—to skin, butcher, and get the hide ready for tanning—I went out into the forest again to search for more game.

I also looked for signs of a regular lynx. Finding one for Yuki—to compare against the blynx—was on my to-do list. I did try asking the mother blynx for help, but she raised her hackles at the thought of another lynx or blynx in her territory.

During that second outing into the forest, I came across a small javelina who’d gotten separated from his squadron. He must’ve scented me, because he ran before I could set up. My shot was hurried; it hit, but I had to follow his blood trail for about fifty yards.

Later, once he was dressed and back at the Glen, I prepared his hide for tanning too. His pelt would make for a nice hat.

The third trip resulted in a pheasant and an armful of yellow squash.

The fourth outing, near the end of the day, produced a pair of ducks. I shot one while he sat on the water, and the other just as she took flight. It was a level of archery I would never have been able to do in my old life, not without Dog’s Agility.

It was an hour before sunset when I returned to the Glen, which left just enough daylight to pluck the ducks and get them ready for the refrigerator. After that, all that was left was to get a fire started and collapse, exhausted but pleased with the day’s efforts.

For dinner, I threw some greens together for a salad. Ikfael was happy enough to gnaw on raw fish that night, and the mother blynx ate from another hare she’d caught while I was away. There must be a warren nearby.

I frowned. I couldn’t keep calling her the mother blynx. Somehow, it felt okay to name the kittens, but she was an adult and had her own mind. It didn’t feel right to just give her a name. I merged with Yuki to send our consciousness within her to ask her preferences directly.

We found her pleased with our arrangement so far. The wolves and the hellmouth were both predators she would have run from. And, yes, there was a rabbit warren nearby, so there was game aplenty, even without Ollie/Yuki/Eight to provide it.

When we considered her consciousness, the image evoked was of the sun sparkling on snow.

A thought arose from the uekisheile part of us: The name Yuki is already taken.

Depending on the way the name was spelled in Japanese, it could mean either happiness or snow. Our Yuki’s choice was happiness, but a certain possessiveness accompanied the name—there could be only one, even if the meanings were different.

Then let her be Sun-on-Snow, we thought.

The concept resonated through the blynx’s mind, and we felt her approval.

“Sun-on-Snow. Snow for short.”

We shared the words aloud too, so that she became familiar with them. Normally, Yuki translated for her, but we suspected there would come a day when that portion of ourselves within her would be needed elsewhere.

Snow quirked her head to listen. A feeling of acceptance radiated from her.

Within us, Ollie/Yuki/Eight also approved. With everyone satisfied, we separated so that I could lean back to watch Ikfael retell a story of the Knight Otter.

I smiled at Ikfael’s antics. It’d been a good day, and a good night followed it.

Yuki and I needed to work on the dual problems presented by lightning qi and the Blink spell, but there was more to do besides that. Even in my old life, there were never enough hours for everything I had wanted to accomplish, so I split my day into three chunks.

In the morning, when it was still cool, I practiced integrating my skills. I’d already started doing that, but the focus this time was on finding synergies between all my skills, including Survival, Stealth, and Strategy. They all had teachers hidden within them, and I did my darndest to listen to them.

Surprisingly, Snow joined in. She didn’t have my endurance, and had to frequently stop to rest, but it quickly became clear that my practice was her play. A thrill of pleasure ran through her every time she pounced or clawed the wooden block I’d set up as a target dummy. She got a similar dopamine hit whenever she teleported. That spirit of play was refreshing, and it kept the practice from turning burdensome.

Afterward, Yuki and I explored the Blink spell and chased after lightning qi. Most of the time was spent merged, our senses combined to better perceive and manipulate the required energies. We didn’t necessarily make a lot of progress, but there were at least hints that a body power emulator might work.

In the evening, after my magical energies had recovered, I entered the forest to put my practice to the test. The larder didn’t need more game, so I looked for threats to the Glen instead. Snow came with me on the outing, but this time she was all business.

We didn’t find anything that night, nor the next—the days and evenings rolling into each other. It was just a matter of time, though, so we kept to the same schedule, all three of us training together and looking for ways to improve our skills.

That was how, on the third night, I found myself observing a rafter of sleeping bashu turkeys about a mile south of the Glen.

The quiet was disturbed only by the sounds of crickets. The turkeys slept within a shallow bowl surrounded on all sides by long grass and brambles. The only reason we’d spotted them was that the wind had shifted as we were passing by, which had brought their scent to Snow. Then, when we followed the scent, Yuki sensed their qi and led us closer.

Yuki passed along my intent to Snow, and she found a sweet little hiding spot in the branches of a bilkelet tree by teleporting up to it. I followed suit and climbed an elm overlooking the area.

Bashu Turkey Alpha (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Cruel Mistress, Heat Wave, Precarious Boiler

The alpha slept at the bowl’s center, with twelve other turkeys nestled around her. About half had her coloring, with a mix of orange and brown feathers, while the rest looked like regular turkeys.

I got my arrows ready, but didn’t poison them all. I decided to start with clean arrows first, and switch over to the poisoned ones only if it became necessary. Our larder was full, yes, but I had a sudden hankering for smoked turkey.

My heart pounded, but I moved methodically, trusting in the long hours I’d spent practicing. My qi drained as it fed the Camouflage spell, yet I didn’t rush. Slow was fast and fast was slow—the proverb had come from my old life, but it was true in this one as well.

I ran through the sequence in my mind one more time before asking Yuki, Ready?

Yes.

And Sun-on-Snow? I asked.

Also ready.

Then let’s do this.

I gathered my qi into the loops needed for Spiral Pierce. The wind licked my face and hair as it began to spin around the arrow. I drew the bow and waited for the stillness between breaths to release.

The air cracked, and the arrow thunked into the alpha. She fell on her side, and suddenly Snow was behind her, claws slashing at the back of her neck.

I let go of the Camouflage spell and—

Yuki read my intent and spun up Dog’s Agility and Iron Heart for me while I prepared another Spiral Pierce. Snow blinked away, and the alpha’s heat beam seared the air where she’d been. It struck a pine in her place, and the tree’s trunk split as the sap inside vaporized.

The arrows came quickly now—three in as many seconds—piercing through the flapping, squawking chaos. That drew the alpha’s attention, so I dropped out of the tree. The heat beam cut across the area, branches bursting as it passed. No fires, though. My mind dimly registered that before I wove through the trees and put them between me and a hot death.

The heat beam stopped, and I glanced long enough to see Snow attacking the alpha once more. There was enough qi in me for one last Spiral Pierce, and I sent an arrow at the alpha, this one poisoned.

I slung my bow and circled back for my spear. Three of the bashu turkeys chased me, but they were just overgrown turkeys. They didn’t have heat beams yet, and they certainly weren’t faster than me on Dog’s Agility.

About thirty seconds left.

I registered Yuki’s warning and used the last of my qi to reinforce the spear. A bashu turkey flew at me, wings flapping, but my spearhead caught it mid-breast. I pushed through for the kill and swung the spear around to flick the body away. The other bashu turkeys avoided the spear, but by the time they were ready to attack again, I had brought it back into position. A thrust, and another was dead. The third bashu turkey, I smashed in the head with the spear’s butt, disorienting it enough for me to swing the spearhead back around for a slice through the neck. It wasn’t enough to decapitate the animal, but blood spurted in the air.

How’s Snow?

She’s retreated and in hiding.

The alpha was still alive. The sound of trees fracturing continued, but it came less and less frequently. I snuck back, relying on the night to keep me hidden, and a moment later spotted the staggering alpha. She fell and struggled to stand. Her beak opened but nothing came out.

The regular turkeys had fled once the fighting started, but three bashu turkeys were left. Instead of guarding the alpha, however, they approached her. One pecked, another clawed, and when they saw that the alpha didn’t—couldn’t—defend herself, they attacked in earnest.

All it took was an arrow to kill one and send the other two scurrying into the forest.

My sweat steamed in the air as I came out of hiding. The alpha’s baleful eyes turned toward me; me lifting my spear was the last thing she saw in life.

Moments later, Snow brought back the bodies of the escaped bashu turkeys, one at a time. She had a cut on one shoulder and a burn on her haunch. The cut was minor, but the burn took two healing spells to fix. Once the discomfort was gone, she was pleased as punch, and her eyes narrowed in pleasure at all the meat around us.

I looked at the carnage and said a few words to put the spirits at ease. When that didn’t work on the more spiteful ones—looking at you, alpha—I was more forceful in sending them on to their next life. It helped that they were still disoriented from their recent deaths.

The whole encounter hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, but I felt drained. Pleased at what we’d accomplished, yet tired and jittery. There was more to be done, though, and no time to rest. We’d made quite a lot of noise, and it wouldn’t do to stick around too long.

I cut out the cores and tucked them safely away. I also pulled out dozens of orange feathers, then strung a couple of the turkeys together so that I could balance them across my shoulders. Snow grabbed a turkey too and blink-accompanied me home.

The next morning, I gathered stones and mud to expand the refrigerator to accommodate the extra meat. It meant detouring from my training schedule, but the extra capacity would be worth it.

I also absorbed the silverlight gathered from the turkeys, which brought my total silverlight to 1,721.

The bashu turkey alpha’s core wasn’t the biggest I’d seen—about the size of an almond—and the ‘flavor’ of its spirit was distasteful. It reminded me of bitter gloating. I ate a bunch of blueberries afterward to see if they’d help cleanse my palate. They didn’t.

Two days passed without any further excitement. When I got tired of training, the kittens livened things up again with their antics. And yeah, the fur under their bellies was just as soft as I’d imagined.

Eventually, though, it was time to head back to Voorhei.

I parked the travois outside Bihei’s longhouse just as dawn broke. It carried the meat from three good-sized turkeys, already plucked, quartered, and ready to be smoked, as well as the hides of the animals I’d hunted while away. The kids would do a better job tanning them using the village’s facilities than I could on my own at the Glen.

Billisha and Aluali heard me arrive, and tumbled out of the house to greet me. Bihei walked after them, maintaining the dignity of adulthood, but her hug was just as tight. The kids chattered nonstop, bright as birds, impatient to share everything that had happened while I was away. It was so good to see them; I’d missed their voices.

Grinning, I unveiled the turkey meat hidden under the hides, and the kids’ eyes shone. Satisfied by the response, I suggested we immediately take it to the village’s smokehouse while the morning was still cool, but the kids had a surprise for me too.

They handed me a pair of gloves. The buckskin covering the palms was supple, while the backs were leather tough—they had to be to withstand the stitching of dozens of small bone squares. There were even threads of cloth woven between the squares to keep them from clicking against each other.

The kids looked so proud of themselves, and really, they had every right to be. The gloves were perfect. Just perfect.

Then Bihei brought out a leather vest, the interior lined with the qiviut from the musk oxen. She helped me put it on, and it was just as warm as I’d heard it to be. The vest fit perfectly too. Working with leather was notoriously difficult, but somehow she had managed to make the stitches all straight and tidy.

I teared up at the thoughtfulness, and the kids giggled, pleased by my reaction. The little stinkers. They’d won this round, but that just meant I had to bring home an even better gift next time.

Breakfast and errands with the family ran long, so I arrived at the Hunter’s Lodge later than I’d planned. Well, I wasn’t due until evening, but I’d hoped to find someone with whom to spar. If not Inleio, then another hunter.

The lodge’s courtyard was full of hunters practicing their arts—whether it be spear, bow, skill, or spell. A few noted my arrival and waved, but most remained focused on their training. I asked around and was told that Mumu and the rest of my team were inside.

I found them gathered around one of the butchering tables. On the table was a hillside modeled in clay, and there were smaller pieces representing individual hunters, ballistae, and terrain. For a moment, I felt like I’d stumbled on a game of Warhammer.

Mumu waved me over, and the others nodded their greetings and made room for me at the table. There was an ongoing debate between two hunters from Kesa’s team about the placement of the ballistae.

One favored placing them apart, while the other argued for grouping them together. Apart, it was easier to create a crossfire and be harder to damage them in one big attack. Together, the ballistae would be more easily defended, and both could take advantage of the best terrain on the battlefield—a high outcropping.

“The kalihchi bear can jump,” I said, interrupting. “I’ve seen him leap from the escarpment west of the Glen and land unharmed. Now, that’s not the same as jumping across a battlefield, but I don’t think we should underestimate his ability to move around.”

“Can you estimate how far he can go?” Mumu asked. “We have the details from his last fight with the lodge, but he will have grown since then.”

I thought back to the time after I’d just met Yuki. Watching a thunderstorm from the Lion’s Cave, I had seen the King of the Forest leap from the escarpment above and rampage through the forest below.

“Keeping in mind that I’ve only seen him at a distance, if I had to guess… maybe half the length of the lodge’s compound. Probably longer.” That meant a twenty-yard jump at a minimum.

The hunters frowned, and Kesa started moving the pieces on the board farther apart. “My team witnessed him casting his lightning at targets eighteen qilm away,” she said.

I did the math. Each qilm seemed to be about five feet, so… thirty yards? “That’s what I’ve seen as well.”

After a moment’s consideration, Kesa pushed the pieces even farther apart. “It will be difficult for our teams to support each other.”

“Do we need to?” Mumu asked. “To fight at spear’s length is supposed to be the Albei team’s role. The dolbecs will occupy the bear, while the others kill him.”

“That assumes their team can do it alone,” Kesa said. “Those of us who have fought the King before know that will not be the case.”

Mumu frowned, but didn’t respond. She considered the battlefield, as did the others.

“The key,” Tegen said, “is if the dolbecs can hold the bear. If they can, then that narrows the scope of the danger. We will only need to worry about the lightning.”

“Banan’s team will use potions from the Alchemist’s Lodge to protect themselves from it,” Kesa said. “What can we do other than to spread out?”

I knocked on the table to get their attention. “There are two things to worry about with lightning: the overflash, where most of the energy passes over the body, and the intrusion, where a portion enters the body through its orifices.”

“Little Pot?” Mumu asked. “How do you know this?”

“I learned about it from the best experts. This was before I got lost in the woods. Before Ikfael took me in.” I paused to look at the doubtful faces around me. “I’m willing to drink the truth-telling tea if it would help you trust my words more.”

“No, keep going,” Mumu said. “We trust—”

Kesa put a hand on Mumu’s shoulder. “Perhaps it would be wise to bring the tea. That way we can listen to our Little Pot with ears fully clear of doubt.”

Mumu was the lodge’s most promising hunter, likely its next master, but Kesa was older and more experienced. After a stare down between the two, Mumu nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said and left for the cellar.

In the meantime, the other hunters discussed different ideas for containing the King of the Forest. I didn’t listen too closely, as I was focused on getting my thoughts in order.

Twenty minutes later, Mumu came back with a steaming cup of tea. One whiff, and the muscles in my face and back relaxed. I drank, and my thoughts grew distracted.

Kesa looked in my eyes and nodded to herself, apparently satisfied that the tea had taken effect. “Eight, tell us what you know about lightning, and how you came to know it.”

“Mi abuela… my grandmother told me that I was born during a storm, that a thunderbird flew over the top of our house when… Well, it doesn’t matter in this situation. And that’s too far back anyway.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve always been interested in lightning, and was afforded the opportunity to read and learn about it before I met Ikfael. I’ve spoken with people who’ve studied the weather all their lives. People who’ve worked with caged lightning. People who’ve harnessed it.”

“These people were Lightning-Touched?” Kesa asked.

“No, their talents lay elsewhere, but they were observant scholars and meticulous artificers.”

“So you’re not a spirit of the forest given human shape?” a hunter asked.

“No, of course not,” I said.

“Speak out of turn again,” Mumu said, glowering at the hunter, “and I’ll kick your ass from here to the village gate.”

“And I will kick your ass,” Kesa said to the same hunter, “from the gate to the village boundary. Eight agreed to talk about lightning, and that is all we will ask about.” She turned to me. “My apologies. Now please continue.”

“As I said before, there are two primary dangers from lightning. I don’t know if they correlate with lightning qi, but they give us a place from which to start. The first is the overflash. Most lightning passes over the body, and the danger there is from flash vaporization of any moisture on the skin. It can cause severe burns and tear apart clothes as it rapidly expands. For us, it means we have to be careful of sweat, but mist and rain would also create problems. As would clothing or armor that traps the vapor.”

Several of the hunters checked their clothing as I spoke; it was proof that they were genuinely considering my warnings.

“The other issue is when lightning enters the body. Usually, that’s through the eyes, ears, nose, or mouth, but open wounds can also let it in. It’s a small portion of the overall energy, but once inside, the lightning can ride the interior channels to do great damage to the heart, lungs, brain, and more. The thing to remember about lightning, though, is that it seeks a path of least resistance. If there’s a channel available that’s easier than the body’s orifices, it’ll go that way instead.”

“What does that mean? What can provide an easier channel?” Tegen asked.

“Iron,” I said. “The people I met who worked with lightning wore chainmail. It molded to the body and didn’t impede movement. And the metal provided an easier channel for the lightning to travel through on its path to the ground.”

The hunters who’d been checking their clothes grimaced. Mail was expensive, after all. Not many could afford it.

“Does it have to be mail?” Kesa asked.

“I don’t know, but I imagine it’s possible that a network of wires might be enough to draw the energy away. A lot depends on the amount of energy carried by the bear’s attacks. If it’s as much as natural lightning, then even chainmail likely won’t be enough.” It was hard to think while under the tea’s effects, but… “If the wires drain away only some of the lightning, that’s still energy that’s not available to attack a hunter’s inner organs. It’s bound to help, even if only a little.”

“We have two weeks left until the hunt,” Mumu said. “How much wire can our smiths produce in that time?”

“Quite a lot, if they don’t have to fashion anything fancy,” Kesa said. “What else should we know, Eight?”

“Just that the wire needs to touch the ground, otherwise the lightning will use a hunter’s legs to travel the rest of the way.”

“Noted,” Kesa said.

After that, Mumu led me to a quiet corner to wait out the tea’s effects. She patted me on the head, and as she turned to leave, I heard her whisper, “Truly, the spirits watch over us.”

40

Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt II

After about an hour, the tea’s effects dissipated. I was tired of sitting in a corner and had just gotten up, when Ben arrived at the lodge. He was the hunter on Kesa’s team who knew the Spark spell. It was our closest approximation to lightning, and Kesa had called for him in order to test the information I’d given them.

Meanwhile, Mumu had retrieved three sets of armor from the ritual room below the lodge. I’d seen brigandine and chainmail before, but the third armor was made from layers of wood stitched together with leather ties. It reminded me of Roman lamellar.

All they needed now were volunteers, so I stepped forward.

At most, Spark caused a temporary spasm, and while that might be dangerous to someone with heart issues, I didn’t expect it to be a problem for my recently minted child’s body. More importantly, this was an opportunity to simulate being hit by the King’s lightning. That knowledge should be helpful in finding ways to ameliorate the damage. And if it happened to also stimulate my own attempts to harness lightning, all the better!

So yeah, hit me with your best shot, Ben.

I had to argue with the hunters to let me participate. Some thought it was too dangerous, while others were doubtful of my ability to both observe and report on the test. Fortunately, my team was on my side, and they helped with the convincing. Even then, if it wasn’t for Mumu’s status in the lodge, the other hunters likely wouldn’t have let me proceed. The hunt was coming up soon, and trusting an eight-year-old boy was tough when lives were on the line.

Ben started with the wooden lamellar, and the targeted hunter fell to the ground the moment he was hit by Spark. He scrambled to his feet quickly enough afterward, but it wasn’t thanks to the armor’s protection. He reported that the spell had hit him full blast.

The brigandine didn’t fare any better, thanks to the gaps between the metal plates. Because there was no path for the electricity to follow, it found its own through the body.

My borrowed mail was too big for me, so I only had to crouch for its hem to connect with the ground. Ready? I asked Yuki. I wanted them to be paying close attention during the test.

“Are you ready, Eight?” Ben asked.

Yes. “Yes.”

Like the rest of his team, Ben was an older hunter in his late fifties. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. I could tell this third cast of Spark was his limit for the day. He grimaced, and it was like a flashbulb went off. A streak of light imprinted itself on my vision. My hair stood on end and my arms goose-pimpled, but I otherwise didn’t feel anything.

Seeing me still standing, Ben blinked. “It worked.”

The room buzzed with murmurs, and Mumu and Kesa spun me around to examine me. There was no damage, nor any other aftereffects.

Did you get anything? I asked Yuki.

No. None of the electricity penetrated the skin. Ben will have to cast the spell on us without the mail for us to feel anything.

Okay, I’ll see if I can convince him later.

To the hunters, I described every sensation, and I made a point of emphasizing the importance of the metal connecting to the ground.

“Our Eight is clever,” Mumu said. “We can work with this.”

“We’ll have to check to see if using wires in place of mail will work,” Kesa said. “But yes, this is promising.”

They clearly wanted to run the test again, but Ben was out of gas. He was leaning on a teammate’s shoulder, catching his breath.

Kesa sighed. “We’ll have to wait. In the meantime, I’ll talk to the smiths.”

“There are two additional sets of mail in our stores.” Mumu frowned in thought. “We might also borrow some. I know that Koda owns a set. He had it made before he commissioned his brigandine.”

“What about Sima?” Kesa asked.

Mumu nodded. “That’s a good thought. We can have Dwilla talk to him.”

The two hunters brought their heads together to brainstorm how to outfit as many hunters in mail as possible. I tuned out the discussion though, since I wasn’t able to help. Instead, I sidled up to Ben.

“So, can I convince you to try that again later today, but without the armor?”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want to be surprised if I happen to get hit by the King’s lightning.”

Ben’s brow furrowed. “Do you need to go to such lengths? The apprentices will be kept away from the fighting.”

I had been shocked when I first heard about the lodge’s plan to let apprentices participate in the hunt. By my old world’s standards, the apprentices were often put in overly dangerous situations, but the King of the Forest was a whole other level of risk. That was apparently the point though—to give them first-hand experience of being a hunter.

The lodge would protect them as much as possible, but not completely. In this case, the children involved were to be posted at a first-aid station. And if the hunt went poorly, they’d be the first to retreat.

“Not me,” I said. “I’m going to ask to participate along with the adults.”

The King of the Forest was a menace to the people I cared about, and I felt an itch to fill him full of arrows for all the trouble he’d caused to Ikfael. I mean, I was afraid too. It would’ve been stupid of me not to be, but even with all the politics surrounding the hunt, it really did sound like the lodge’s best shot at killing the King.

Ben shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, I doubt I will have the opportunity.” He gestured to where Kesa and Mumu were huddled in conversation. “I know those two. They’ll wring me dry.”

“At night, then,” I said. “After everyone goes home.”

“Are you really so desperate to feel Spark’s sting?”

“Yes.” I shrugged. “I’ll pursue anything that can improve the odds.”

“That, I understand.” Ben breathed deeply and sighed. He looked me in the eyes, and said, “For the person who brought Healing Water to the village, I will do this thing. I will visit you at dusk and show you my Spark.”

Runners were sent from the lodge to carry messages to various people in the village. They came and went through the course of the afternoon. As evening approached, Inleio arrived and was briefed on what had happened.

He requested that I repeat the information I’d shared earlier and asked questions—no tea required, thankfully. He also filled in details of his own. Apparently, yes, the King’s lightning was much more powerful than Spark, but also less powerful than natural lightning. We were optimistic the chainmail would work.

That didn’t lift Inleio’s spirits any though. His expression remained grim during the whole of our conversation. More than anyone else in the lodge, he must’ve felt the burden of the upcoming hunt.

He nodded to Kesa and Mumu to give his approval to their modifications of the lodge’s plans, but held me back after he’d dismissed them.

“What is it?” I asked. “Do you have more questions for me?”

“No,” Inleio said, “but I must ask you to join me in the ritual room.”

“I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“Again, no. You’ve made a contribution to the lodge. It would normally be unwise to learn a new spell so close to a dangerous hunt, but because it’s you…” Inleio shook his head as if to dismiss a thought. “You are quick, and if there’s even a chance a new spell will help you survive, then I will offer it.”

“Oh, for the information on lightning and chainmail? Sure.” I smiled. I’d already decided on which spell it would be.

Inleio’s gaze was somber. “We’ll say that is the reason to the hunters, but this reward is for the other things you’ve shared.”

My smile vanished. He was talking about the information on Borba and Ghitha. “Ah. Okay.”

“We will wait to reward you for the information on lightning until after the hunt. Two new spells would be unwise no matter how quick and clever you are.”

I didn’t disagree. My hands were already full trying to learn Blink. “I pick Spark.”

Inleio’s smile came and went. “I thought you might.”

The spell wouldn’t add much to my repertoire, but I hoped it’d help me understand the feeling of lightning within me.

Once he saw I was well-situated, Inleio left me on my own to learn the spell. The hunters upstairs were waiting for him to oversee the training session.

The book for Spark described the spell’s effects only. To learn the spell, I had to access a small, cool-to-the-touch orb that came with it. The small fire in the ritual room reflected off its silver surface. When I concentrated on it, a set of runes appeared in my mind, shaped roughly like a triangle-based pyramid. At three ends, I recognized the Aeromancy, Hydromancy, and Nature runes, yet the fourth was new to me. It felt solid and nourishing, but in a different way than Nature.

Geomancy has increased from 0 to 1.

I wondered if that was a nod to the role the earth played in the formation of natural lightning? There was no way for me to know at that moment, but I still found it interesting. My inner magic nerd was curious to learn more.

Later though. First, there was a complicated array of spikes and ladders to memorize. I joined with Yuki so we could better utilize our combined memory and give Ollie/Yuki/Eight full access to the spell.

When we infused our mana into the rune, electricity sparked across our fingers and we smelled the scent of lightning within us. A power was hiding behind our meridians and dantians. A layer of reality, a potential, adjacent but out of reach.

The Spark in our hands desired to flow outward toward a target, but we turned the spell on ourselves. Our body jerked, and we fell over, our hands clenching the spell orb.

A memory existed within Ollie/Eight of visiting an arcade museum. There had been a cabinet among the machines consisting of two handles. Its gimmick was that electricity ran through the handles, and when a visitor gripped them, their body completed the circuit, locking their hands’ muscles until the timer ran out.

Spark was stronger than the cabinet—not enough to damage, but it would be a useful distraction in a fight. We already possessed Cold Snap, but additional options were welcome.

Ah! As Spark had flashed, the lightning qi within us drew closer.

We had enough mana to cast the spell another four times before needing to meditate. We grinned, then gathered the Spark to our hands once more.

We spent the rest of the day and early evening in the ritual room, recharging our mana as necessary and releasing it as Spark. We added wood to the fire to keep it lit. Occasionally, hunters intruded to retrieve or stow equipment from the storage areas behind the room’s tapestries. One brought us a bowl of stew, a welcome respite for our empty belly.

Everything is energy, we thought. Whether it is stable or changing from state to state, everything is energy.

Ben visited the ritual room at midnight. “I figured you’d still be here.” He handed us a water skin. “Inleio told me that you’d been rewarded with Spark. Do you still need me to cast it on you?”

“Yes, please. The taste of your spell may be different from mine. Also, tell me of your experiences with it, so that we may compare.”

“Spark was the only mana spell I knew for a long time, until you came along with that Healing Water spell of yours.” Ben scratched his head, thinking. “The feeling’s short and sharp. Spark is more pointed than Healing Water, but they’re both sudden: a quick buildup and release. Neither needs anything like the focus required for qi spells like Nature’s Spring.”

“The mana spells we learn are shortcuts,” we said.

“That’s what I was taught as well,” Ben said. “The runes represent the work otherwise done by rituals. The runes aren’t as flexible, but they’re much, much faster.”

We paused to consider his words and reference them to what we’ve been told by Tegen, Mumu, and Inleio.

“If you’re ready, then?” Ben asked.

“Oh, yes. Go ahead.”

We opened our senses to better capture the moment, but as Ben said, the spell was short and sharp. There was a flash and a whiff as the various elements blended together, and then it was gone as we fell over, our body twitching. The taste of his Spark was different. More powerful, but less resonant, with fewer over and undertones.

Ben hurried to our side, and we felt the cool touch of Nature’s Spring flowing into us. “You all right, Eight?”

We grinned up at his worried face. “Of course. As to be expected, you have a more experienced touch with the spell, and its effects were much stronger than ours. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Can we do this again?”

That surprised a laugh out of Ben. “I—sure, but it’ll have to be late tomorrow. Kesa and Mumu, the pair of them have their sights set on testing the spell on… well… I’m not sure what yet. They probably don’t know either, but I’m certain they’ll come up with a plan.”

We nodded in understanding. “Till tomorrow night, then.”

Ben hesitated to leave. “You’re sure you’re all right?”

Our grin spread. “Yes. There’s just a bit more testing to do. That’s all.”

“Don’t stay too late. It’s important to rest too.”

“Of course.”

Ben gave me a pat on the shoulder and left his water skin for us. When he was gone, we turned to the ghost peeking out from behind a tapestry. Bindeise looked more worn than the last time we had seen him. The red in his eyes was dimmer.

“We haven’t forgotten about you,” we told him. “After the hunt, you’ll have your justice.”

The next day, two ballistae arrived at Voorhei’s gate on a pair of ox-drawn carts. Their crews rode alongside on horses. Each of the soldiers wore brigandine and carried lances. Arbalests hung from their saddles. The rest of their gear appeared to be in a third cart.

The crews had been scheduled to arrive that day, and villagers crowded together to watch them ride past. I followed along, scoping out each soldier in turn. There were a couple of Sharpshooters, a Steady Under Pressure, a Range Finder, a Team Player, and so on. The mix leaned heavily toward methodical, stable personalities. And at the head was:

Cassisia Mudasdaughter (Human)

Talents: Professional Soldier, Troop Leader, Artful Dodger

Someone must’ve run ahead to alert the village’s leadership, because both Koda and Dwilla hurried over. Cassisia spotted them too. With a signal, she brought the convoy to a halt and swung down from her horse to wait for them.

“Welcome!” Koda said, out of breath. “Welcome to Voorhei. I am Koda the Village Head, and this is Dwilla the Reeve. You must be…”

“Cassisia Mudasdaughter. We were hired by one Ghitha Woldecsbrother for an upcoming hunt.”

“Yes, yes,” Koda said. “We are aware, and glad of your safe arrival. You must be tired. We will lead you to our Hunter’s Lodge, where you may unpack your gear and take your ease. Lunch has been prepared, as well as lodgings. Tomorrow, there will be games of skill.”

“That would be most welcome,” Cassisia said. She signaled for the convoy to follow, but instead of re-mounting, she led her horse and walked alongside Koda and Dwilla.

I worked my way through the crowds to listen in on their conversation, but it was all small talk about the journey and news from Albei. I kept pace anyway, just in case any of them dropped something juicy, but none of them did.

Inleio met them outside the lodge and directed them to park their carts around back, next to the compound. Every hunter in the village was present, all of them looking over the ballistae crew and their gear. None were so bold as to climb up onto the carts, but the machines were fascinating even from a distance.

Each ballista looked like a giant crossbow or arbalest, but to each side of the slider were torsion cables. In my old world, the Greeks and Romans used thread, but these looked like something else, shiny and slick, each coiled around a shaft. A pair of cranks pulled back the slider and wound the cables.

The soldiers were, in turn, just as curious about the hunters. Their eyes scanned the lodge as they entered, especially noting the battlefield modeled in clay. They gravitated to it immediately.

“Tsk,” Cassisia said to her team. “There’ll be time for that later. For now, let’s get to know our hosts.”

A meal had been set up in the lodge’s courtyard with enough food for all. Cassisia sat next to Inleio and the village’s leadership, while the rest of her crew mixed in with the hunters.

I worked my way between Mumu and one of the ballistae crew members, a man named Lapa of Voorhakten. After a few pleasantries, including compliments on the quality of the food, the two began telling stories. It wasn’t obvious at first, but somehow each question led to a long, drawn-out tale of skill, either in hunting or in war.

After the third story, it clicked that each was letting the other know what they could expect. In effect, it was a roundabout way of sharing their respective resumes. Once I knew that, I realized the scene was being repeated throughout the courtyard. I snuck away from my team, and yep, even Inleio and Cassisia were sharing stories.

Midway through the meal, the lodge received a surprise guest. Mumu spotted him at the door and jumped up to greet him and bring him to where the leadership team was.

Imsiikila the Wise (Human)

Talents: Money Sense, Good Eye, Tight-Lipped

Once he was safely seated, Mumu re-joined us.

“Who is that?” I asked.

“His name is Imsiikila,” Mumu said. “He is the merchant that will be facilitating the sale of the kalihchi bear’s parts.”

“His family is well known in Albei,” Lapa said. “They are not the most prosperous, though they have a reputation for fair-dealing—a good choice for a hunt of this size.”

My eyebrows rose. A reputation for treating people fairly, was it? And I liked the look of that Tight-Lipped talent. I turned to Mumu, wondering if he’d be a good fit for selling eilesheile. A subtle smile and nod was all the response I needed.

Oh good. Oh very good.

41

Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt III

The merchant Imsiikila walked around the ritual room to examine the tapestries and read the stories they told. He was a thickset man, and he wore a dusky-orange vest over a blue blouse and dark blue, almost-black, pants. His hat was more like a skullcap, and a gold tassel wound around it. He was also the first person I’d met in this world with mutton chops.

Mumu prepared tea for our meeting. The rest of the hunters had long gone home, it being eleven at night. However, this meeting wasn’t a secret—we’d told everyone we were interested in a trading arrangement with Imsiikila’s family. The excuse was even true. The only thing we hid was what we were trading.

Imsiikila turned around and caught me watching him. “People don’t trust a skinny merchant,” he said, gesturing to his body. “We need to appear prosperous in addition to being prosperous.”

“And the—” I didn’t know the Diaksh words, so I pointed to the sides of his face.

He smiled, clearly proud of his facial hair. “These help me to be remarkable. And what’s remarkable makes me memorable and easier to recall when a someone is in need.”

“So it’s all a performance?” I asked.

“Performance with a dash of truth,” Imsiikila said. “I could’ve chosen another way to be memorable, but the mutton chops were mine.”

“I met Uncle Kila two years ago,” Mumu said, pouring each of us a cup of tea. “Inleio introduced us. I had found a goba plant, fully ripened, and needed someone trustworthy to sell it.” She grinned at the memory, so the sale must’ve been lucrative—very lucrative, if the size of her grin was any indicator.

“And so it begins. The players are ready,” Imsiikila said, settling down by the fire. “What do you have for me this time, my dear Mumu? Another goba plant? The precious heart of some terrible creature? I am most curious to know.”

Mumu glanced at me, and I placed a pouch in front of the merchant, though it was only half full. The eilesheile was just too good a seasoning—delicious on a level where I had to hide it from myself or else I’d put it on everything I cooked.

I could always go back to the Red Room for more—the eilesheile was easy enough for Yuki to process—but I didn’t want to literally eat my fortune away. Not all of it, anyway.

Imsiikila raised an eyebrow when he hefted the pouch. “Light.” Then, he poured a bit of the dried eilesheile into the palm of his hand.

“Ah, it’s real,” Mumu said in awe. “I mean, I believed you, Eight, but it’s really real.”

Imsiikila was silent. His only reaction was a slight trembling of his hand. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Eilesheile, yes. It’s already been processed, so you’re welcome to taste it if you’d like to make sure.”

“Taste? Taste? Are you mad?” A drop of sweat ran down Imsiikila’s forehead. He carefully poured the eilesheile back into the pouch. “With the amount in this pouch, an alchemist can make five qi potions, priced at ten eltaak each. Why would I waste any by eating it?”

I must’ve had a guilty expression, because Mumu gulped. “Eight… you didn’t.”

Imsiikila’s eyes closed, the pain of lost profits evident on his face.

It was my turn to sweat. “Just a little. I’d heard it was delicious. But don’t worry… there’s more.”

Imsiikila’s eyes snapped open. “There’s more? Truly? It’s not just this pouch?”

“Before I answer, I need to know if we’re going to deal.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. My apologies for rushing. I was just surprised.” Imsiikila leaned back and took a breath to compose himself. “As I said, the Alchemist’s Lodge should be able to produce five qi potions from this amount of eilesheile, each worth ten eltaak. That is a grand total of two and a half antaak. Do you follow?”

I gestured for him to continue.

“The eilesheile is not the only ingredient in the potion, but it is the most rare. Understand that this is secret information not shared by the alchemists, but as a merchant it behooves me to study the lists of materials they buy and what is produced soon afterward. I share this information with you as a token of trust.”

“So how much do the alchemists pay for the eilesheile?” Mumu asked, her voice eager.

“The last I heard, it was an eltaak per potion.”

“So we’d ask for half a gold coin for the pouch?” I asked.

“Yes, unless we are able to offer a larger supply…” Imsiikila trailed off, fishing for an answer.

“We can.”

“And even more if it was a steady, permanent supply…”

“We can.”

Imsiikila breathed in deeply and blinked, his eyes bright. “I heard you were an orphan, my dear, precious Eight. Do you long for a family? A life larger than this village can afford? I—”

“Stop.” I lifted a hand to cut him off. “I have no interest in radically changing the circumstances of my life. I have a family already, though it is an irregular one.”

“A shame,” Imsiikila said. “I, however, will respect your wishes. But if you should change your mind—”

“Eight, you wouldn’t,” Mumu said, downcast.

“No, I wouldn’t,” I replied reassuring her. “Now, if you please, Imsiikila. How much?”

“You must call me Uncle Kila. We are going to be partners, after all. As for how much: a steady, permanent supply of eilesheile…” He cleared his throat and wiped his brow. “It will need negotiation, but perhaps two eltaak per potion.”

“You think you can get double the going price?” I asked, dubious.

After a pause to further consider the matter, Imsiikila nodded. “We would have to make certain guarantees about quantities and delivery dates, but yes, I believe so.”

“And how much would your portion be?”

“Ten percent, non-negotiable. That is already my best rate, and only because you bring such a fine product. I will be able to leverage it for more business with the Alchemist’s Lodge.” Uncle Kila looked me in the eyes. “See, that is another tidbit of information. Another token of trust.”

I looked at Mumu, and she nodded in agreement. “Ten percent is fair.”

“All right, then,” I said. “We have a deal.”

Uncle Kila laughed, slapping his knee. “Excellent! Most excellent! Now tell me, how much can you deliver and how often? No, wait, first you must assure me that you’re not participating in the kalihchi bear’s hunt. The thought of you in danger terrifies me.”

“Uh, I’m participating.” I stopped Uncle Kila from interrupting by continuing immediately, “You can’t change my mind.”

“Then is there someone else who knows the location of the eilesheile? I assume it’s a living colony, given your ability to reliably supply it?”

“Yes, it’s a living colony. And yes, there’ll be someone who’ll know the location.” My plan was to tell Ikfael about the Red Room before the King’s hunt, so she could share the location with Billisha and Aluali if anything happened to me.

“You wouldn’t consider telling me?” Uncle Kila asked.

“That’s correct, I wouldn’t.”

Uncle Kila’s grin turned wry. “Fair enough. We are still new to our relationship. But if there’s anything I can do, you must only ask. I want to demonstrate my trustworthiness to you.”

“There is something,” I said. “Actually, two things. First, can you purchase lightning-protection potions? And second, I’d like to buy the kalihchi bear’s core after the hunt.”

“Ah, you are both cautious and ambitious, two qualities not often seen together.” Uncle Kila smiled in appreciation. “To answer your questions, the bear’s core is easy to arrange, assuming a successful hunt. All that’s required is a fair price for the Hunter’s Lodge. As for the potions, I reserved two from the Alchemist’s Lodge already, thinking to sell them to the wealthier hunters in the village. That left only one potion in their stores. They might be able to make more, but it would depend on their supplies.”

“I’ll buy the two from you, and four more if they’re available.”

“Little Pot?” Mumu asked.

“For the team,” I answered. “I care about you all, and if it’s within my means to protect you, I will.”

Mumu pulled me into a hug. “You’re such a good child, but I can’t let you pay for the potions alone. We will split the cost.”

Uncle Kila coughed to get our attention. “It will be one antaak and four eltaak for the six lightning protection potions. Are you sure?”

I escaped from Mumu’s hug to ask a question in return. “What’s money if one’s not alive to spend it?”

“Cautious, ambitious, and wise. Won’t you please join my family? No, stop. You needn’t protest. I see your loyalty too. I withdraw my question and will do as you ask.” Uncle Kila sighed and looked forlorn, but it was surprisingly hard to tell if it was an act or not. I mean, it had to be—we barely knew each other.

“Who is the sixth potion for?” Mumu asked.

“Inleio,” I said.

And that was enough explanation. Mumu nodded in understanding.

Inleio was the lodge’s most potent fighter, as well as an important point of stability for the village. On top of that, he had a grudge against the King of the Forest, and from what I’d seen of the man, I knew that an encounter between the two was unavoidable.

“I applaud your care of the lodge’s elders,” Uncle Kila said. “Now, let us work out the logistics of our agreement. Timetable of deliveries, payments, and so on.”

“Mumu will be our point of contact,” I said. “She’s my partner in this.”

“There’s going to be a lot of money coming to us,” she said. “I was thinking we could use Bindeise’s treasure as cover.”

Ah, that’s a good idea! It would explain how we were able to afford the potions, as well as any other expensive purchases we make in the future. Clever, Mumu. Very clever!

“What’s this?” Uncle Kila asked. “A treasure?”

And so, I told Uncle Kila about the sugar maker’s ghost and the hunt for his killer. I spared him the details though, as they weren’t meant to be shared just yet.

I was partway through the story when an epiphany hit me—I knew how I could communicate with Bindeise about his killer.

The next day, the ballistae crews put on a demonstration outside the village. The atmosphere was boisterous, with adults and children delaying their work to attend. The crews handled the attention as if they were used to it, and smoothly sent several five-foot bolts downrange. Their targets were the archery butts the militia used for training.

Cassisia then invited the Hunter’s Lodge to demonstrate their own skills. That’d been arranged in advance, and both Mumu and Haol were ready with their weapons. First, they sent arrows at the butts, which was then followed by a friendly duel between them.

Well, it was supposed to be friendly. Mumu seemed to take a little too much pleasure in jabbing at Haol with her spear. It was all he could do to avoid the blunted spearhead. Did the two of them have a tiff?

Later, after they’d finished, I asked her if everything was all right.

Mumu nodded in response, but she had a glint in her eye. “My future husband has been too nosy of late about my business dealings. While a certain amount of interest is flattering, we are not yet married. But do not worry, I set him in his place.”

“I’m definitely not worried,” I said. “You know your people better than I do.”

That vote of confidence seemed to brighten her mood, and the two of us strolled through the village gate to attend a village-wide lunch hosted by the Hunter’s Lodge. The main course was an elk stew, served alongside greens sauteed in lard and a corn pudding.

The food was delicious, but I didn’t overeat. The rest of the day’s schedule would consist of intense training, and I didn’t want to throw it all back up later.

I stayed in the village for another full day—stocking up on milk, sugar, lard, barley flour, cornmeal, salt, and smoked turkey—before heading back to the Glen. I also made arrangements to meet with Mumu at the sugar shack later.

The route home was familiar, and the going was getting easier and easier. With my spirit eyes open, I was able to recognize which parts of the forest were disturbed and which were not. I also felt a new depth to the land.

When the trees swayed, it was like my own lungs breathing. When the birds flew, it was my hair ruffling. An itch that needed scratching turned out to be a bishkawi beating its hands on the trunk of a tree.

I watched him from hiding, but couldn’t figure out why he did it. Nor did he live long enough to see any result.

11 silverlight gathered. 10 absorbed.

When I arrived at the Glen, Ikfael greeted me with open arms. Not for a hug though—she moved past me, ignoring the bishkawi carcass on a travois, to look in my backpack to see what was inside.

“Are you making donuts?” Ikfael signed.

I smiled. She was clever, our Ikfael. “That’s right. I have something for which I’d like to exchange.”

Ikfael sniffed a smoked turkey leg, her brows rising in surprise at the scent. “Include this and I’ll listen to your request.”

That didn’t bother me at all. I had been planning on it anyway, just for the sake of seeing an otter eating a smoked turkey leg. “Um, sure. I can do that.”

Ikfael nibbled at the turkey leg, tearing small chunks free and chewing, her little jaw working the meat. Ah, it was just as precious as I’d imagined.

She gestured for me to continue, and I cleared my throat. “I’d like your permission to invite a ghost to the Glen…”

The plan was simple, really, and I kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier. While my spirit eyes let me sense a ghost’s thoughts and feelings, there was no way for the ghost to understand me.

Every god provided the world with a gift, and Tenna’s Gift was to block communication with the dead—verbal, written, and signed. Bits of pantomime worked, as did simple crude drawings, but the line at which the gift took effect was blurry, involving a mix of intention, complexity of thought, and something else which I couldn’t quantify. No doubt there were spiritual rules at work I wasn’t aware of.

In any case, the dead could see the world around them. They bore witness to its everyday events. So why couldn’t I just act out the events of Bindeise’s murder?

Ikfael readily agreed in exchange for a dozen donuts, so I told her what was required. Then later that night, after we’d had time to prepare, I headed to the sugar shack to retrieve Bindeise.

Along the way, I once again regretted the lack of the Night Eyes spell, but consoled myself with the knowledge that the choice of Spark was improving my feel for lightning qi. That’d be my next spell though. I promised myself. In the meantime, I used a mix of enchantment and spirit eyes to travel by moonlight.

The sugar shack was the same as I’d last left it, except for a simple barrier at the gate to keep animals out. I caught a glimpse of Mumu’s spirit as she kept watch from hiding.

“Mumu,” I whispered, letting the land go.

“Here,” she whispered back. “Did all go well with Ikfael?”

“Yes, she agreed to intercede with Bindeise’s ghost. We just have to lead him there.”

Mumu moved the barrier aside and waved me through. In the distance, I heard an owl hoot, so I rushed to get inside. The bird didn’t sound big, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Well?” Mumu asked. “Is Bindeise here?”

The faint scent of an old fire clung to the ruined buildings. Nothing moved nearby; there was only stillness in the compound. I walked around to make sure, but there was no sight of the sugar maker’s ghost anywhere.

“Maybe he’s where we found his body?” I said.

Mumu nodded and led the way. Luckily, she had the Night Eyes spell, and we traveled faster as a result. While she broke the path for us, I kept watch for owls and other predators.

We found Bindeise’s ghost sitting across from his body’s remains. There were only bones left, broken and scattered by scavengers. He contemplated them with an expression that was sober and sad. The intense anger that had been there before had drained away, leaving him… tired.

Mumu stood guard so that I could work with the ghost. He only had eyes for his bones, though, and seemed stuck, unable to look away. Nothing I did got his attention, so I knelt beside them and put them back in order, like assembling a macabre jigsaw puzzle.

The heaviness in the air dissipated, and a hint of gratitude was left in its place. When I looked up, Bindeise’s attention was on me. I gestured that he should follow, and he nodded.

Mumu led the way to the Glen.

Ikfael was waiting for us, but in the giant water form she’d used on the solstice. It was how she presented herself to the people of Voorhei. I knelt and bowed alongside Mumu, though what surprised me was that Bindeise’s ghost also did the same.

Ikfael began the show. She gestured, and water rose from the pool to take the shape of the sugar maker. She’d never seen him before, so she based his appearance on his ghost. He looked like a character from a black-and-white film that’d been colorized—Ikfael doing her best to imagine his appearance as he’d been in life.

I watched Bindeise’s ghost. He leaned forward in surprise, and then rocked back as Ghitha also arose out of the water. Shock, disbelief, confusion—his face contorted from emotion to emotion as he watched the events of the night of his death play out.

Ikfael had spent the whole afternoon and evening preparing, and it showed in the details. Her stories were usually fun, with lots of adventure and excitement. The death of Bindeise though—this story carried an intensity missing from her others.

It was the story of a senseless death, a death for nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. No, that wasn’t right. The death came even though he was in the right place at the right time. Bindeise had been home, after all, where he was supposed to be, and death had come to call regardless.

That was the first part of the story. The second part began with Inleio interrogating me about the murders, and it ended with Borba’s punishment and Ghitha’s death. That latter hadn’t happened yet, but it was only a matter of time based on what Inleio had told me. The lodge master was just waiting for the kalihchi bear hunt’s completion before acting.

This section of the play didn’t have the same intensity as the first, but Bindeise remained engrossed throughout. His expression was… hungry.

Yeah, it’d be best if I wrap up this situation soon and help him move on. Hungry ghosts were never good.

Mumu interrupted my thoughts, though her words were spoken tentatively: “Could… could I…”

I’d ignored her during the performance, but when I looked now, tears ran down her cheeks.

“Could I see that again? If I brought gifts in exchange? The story was so, so beautiful. I’ve seen a mummer’s play once, in Albei, but it was nothing like this.” Mumu grabbed me by the arm. “Do you think so? Could you ask?”

I had been so focused on Bindeise it took a moment to switch gears and understand what she was saying—to understand that I’d just introduced Mumu to cinema.

Ikfael’s form disappeared into the pool with a splash, and Mumu’s face fell. The story was done, and there’d be no more tonight.

“Mumu, I need you to focus. Let’s deal with Bindeise and his treasure first, and then we can talk about asking for this boon.”

Mumu got herself together. “Yes. Right. The treasure. Of course. I was just… just never mind. Will Bindeise’s ghost show us the treasure’s location now?”

Said ghost looked more solid than he had before. He pointed to where Ghitha had stood last, and made a stabbing motion. I nodded in response to confirm the man would die, and the meaning seemed to carry. He then looked around the Glen, as if to remember this moment, and gestured for us to follow.

It turned out that on the night of his murder Bindeise had been heading to collect his treasure. We found it buried under an oak tree not a hundred yards from where he’d been stabbed. The chest was a little over a foot long and a foot wide, and it was buried about three feet deep.

The interior didn’t disappoint. We cracked the lid and saw a pile of silver coins and the glimmer of a few gold ones too. Mumu giggled like a little girl, and well, maybe I did too. We rushed back to the safety of the Glen in order to go through the chest’s contents.

We each counted the coins twice to make sure all the numbers added up, and there were nine and a half antaaks’ worth of coins in the chest, of which a little over seven and half were mine thanks to the agreement I’d made with Mumu, where we decided to split the treasure 80-20.

I owed her three antaak for the loan for my new mail, which still left me with four and half. Subtracting my share of the payment for the lightning protection potions meant there were about four antaak left over. Then there was the money I needed to set aside for taxes, including what I’d pay instead of contributing silverlight.

That number was fuzzy, and it wouldn’t be determined until my spirit could be examined near the end of the year when all the silverlight consumed by the villagers was tallied. Still, based on the information I’d gathered from the hunters in the lodge, I could expect to pay an eltaak for every hundred silverlight gathered.

I’d come to the village with 763 silverlight, but my fee to the Hunter’s Lodge had covered all my outstanding taxes at the time. Since then, I’d collected almost a thousand more silverlight, so that was half an antaak. We were only halfway through the year, though, so it’d be wise to set aside at least another half an antaak more, maybe even twice that.

And then there were the regular taxes, including what Bihei owed. The widow had effectively joined the family, and it’d be hard for her to pay with just her and the kids working the fields. There was no way I’d leave her hanging.

I’ll set aside three antaak for taxes, then. That sounds like a lot, but it covers everything the family will owe for the year, and anything I make after tonight will be pure profit. For now, I have one antaak for discretionary spending, and that should be more than enough, even with all the expenses for our upcoming hunt.

There were about twenty more days until then, and I expected them to fly by in a flurry of anxious activity.

Worrying about my taxes might’ve seemed silly in the face of that, but in a strange way it was a vote of confidence on my part. It meant I expected to survive the hunt, and the village would too. There’d be no great tragedy, and we’d all have to continue worrying about the little things, like taxes.

A dangerous hunt was approaching, and I’d do everything in my power to protect the people I cared about and the life that I’d built with them.

42

A Field of Spears

On the day of the hunt, the lodge gathered about four miles southwest of Voorhei, at the spot Kesa’s team had identified as the best place to fight the King of the Forest. The weather was balmy, with patches of clouds in the sky, the kind that looked quilted. A light breeze blew, bringing relief to the sweating hunters preparing for the battle ahead. I worked alongside them, and planted another spear into the earth.

The open field in which we worked was covered with them, their hafts wrapped with wire. More protected the approaches to the ballistae atop the two hills overlooking the field of spears. The trees surrounding the area were similarly garlanded; wire coiled around the trunks and draped from their branches. The hope was that they’d interfere with the King’s lightning and draw it away.

While Voorhei’s hunters prepared, so did the dolbecs on Banan’s team. Agath and Moon placed weapons and extra shields in the field’s center. It’d be their responsibility to keep the King in place while the others attacked. Meanwhile, Banan and the other team leaders huddled at the border between forest and field to discuss last-minute details.

I pulled a figurine in the shape of an otter out from under my new mail and arming jacket. Aluali had carved it for me, and Billisha had made the beaded necklace from which it hung. I rubbed the figurine between my fingers for luck.

That wasn’t just superstition either.

Blessings

- Aluali Eightsson (Human)
- Billisha Eightsdaughter (Human)
- Diriktot (Fallen God, Order)
- Helen Miriam Sandoval (Spirit)
- Ikfael (Spirit)

The description underlying the children’s blessings was the same: “A blessing containing the love and gratitude of a child toward their zasha, their adopted father. Provides a small bonus to Luck in dangerous situations.”

Alas, there was also another new entry:

Curses

- Ghitha Woldecsbrother (Human)

The description read: “An enmity born of frustration for your role in impeding his desires. Creates a small negative influence on Luck. Its effect is heightened when in the presence of other cursed individuals.”

I had learned of the curse the previous night when I’d checked my Status before heading out with the rest of the hunters. My reaction was grim and… honestly, I was just tired of the man. I’d brought his family’s bodies back to him, yet here he was wishing for my death on the eve of a dangerous hunt.

Unfortunately, mi abuela’s remedies didn’t work in this world, and the curse had remained stuck to me no matter what I tried. I promised myself, though, that I’d keep looking for a way to deal with it once the hunt was over. As for Ghitha himself, his fate was already sealed. It was only a matter of time.

There was also a new condition, although it was a temporary one:

Conditions

Occupied (Evolving*), Lightning Resistance (2)

The Alchemist Lodge’s potion had tasted chalky and bitter, but it provided what it promised: a measure of protection against the King’s lightning. Uncle Kila had come through, and I was able to buy potions for all my teammates and Inleio too.

Tegen caught me playing with the otter figurine. “Are you nervous, Eight?”

My stomach fluttered, an animalistic fear lurking within. “Yes.”

Tegen nodded. “A day like today is a true test of one’s path, as well as the path we share together as hunters. It’s reasonable to be afraid. And yet we must hunt our fear, so that we can do what we must.” He looked out at our preparations. “Trust in your brothers and sisters, and in the plan we’ve developed together. Trust in the spirits and gods who watch over us. And trust in yourself and your training, Eight. Follow the path, and it will lead you through.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“We all will,” he said. “Now, only a few more spears and we can rest.”

The plan was to lure the kalihchi bear to this field—that was Otwei’s job—and surround him in concentric circles. Banan’s team, Borba, and Inleio would fight the bear directly in the center, while Kesa and Mumu’s teams would use hit-and-run tactics from the second circle. The remaining hunters and the ballistae were placed farther out and would fight from a distance.

There was also a first-aid station well away from where the fighting would take place. That was where the other apprentices would be, and it would also serve as the fallback for any hunters who needed to escape the fighting.

I had my own fallbacks as well. There was no way I’d fight the King of the Forest without a Plan B, C, and D. There was even a Plan E, but that one was a last resort; the Meadow of the Evil Death Mushrooms would likely result in mutually assured destruction.

I’d use it if I had to, though. For the kids, Ikfael, and my teammates too.

Bearbane lay on the ground beside me, ready to be taken up. The spear was beautiful; its ebony haft and silver-gray head glimmered in the light. It was a work of art—something that, under different circumstances, might be considered a national treasure and placed in a museum. Yet Ikfael had rented it to me for a single trout grilled over the fire. I had teared up at the time, and thought she’d tease me for it, but she hadn’t. All she’d said was: “You use it. You bring it back. Not anyone else. Just you.”

The last of the spears were planted, and then the hunters dispersed to the shade of the trees. There would be a couple of hours until the fighting began. More than a few of the hunters slept.

“I don’t know how they do it,” I said.

“Everything is practice,” Tegen said. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His focus was on examining the wires stitched to his jacket. The cloth had been cut too, to create vents so that any vaporized water could easily escape. The jacket was ruined for any other uses, but it was a small price to pay to avoid severe burns.

“Right,” I said. “I guess I’ll try it too.”

But sleep eluded me. Anytime I was about to nod off, I startled awake. So I meditated instead, and rode the feelings welling up inside me: the gnawing fear and worry, the doubt and pointed apprehension. They came in waves, radiating up from my belly, but sitting with them helped me to see through them. I was still afraid—that didn’t change—but I eventually found a calm place and rested there.

“Eight.” Mumu’s voice roused me from my meditation. “It’s almost time.” I opened my eyes to find her crouched nearby. “Are you ready?”

Yuki?

We’re ready, and Sun-on-Snow is on standby.

Thank you. For this and everything else.

Thank you, Ollie/Eight. Also for everything.

A bit of a smile came to my lips. “I’m ready.”

“Good,” Mumu said. “Just remember to stay with the team.”

I nodded to show I understood.

“Let’s join the others, then.”

I dusted myself off and jogged over to my team’s hiding spot in the trees. Everyone was present except for Teila, who was at the first-aid station. We wished each other luck, but quickly fell silent. The same was true for the other teams. The forest became quiet as we waited for Otwei’s signal.

Yuki’s qi pinged—the portion of them inside Otwei let me know that she’d found the King and was preparing to lead him to us. It won’t be long now.

I felt calm-ready-anxious, so I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants. I licked my lips and touched the otter figurine. My jitters from earlier hadn’t disappeared, but my heart felt steady. Not my physical heart—it beat fast, the blood pumping—but my conviction, my dedication, and my desire to see this hunt through to successful completion.

So much depended on it. There’d be no more invaders of the Glen every time the sky thundered, and it would be a turning point for the village of Voorhei too. We had to succeed. Just had to.

Panic flared within Otwei. She’d been Camouflaged and quiet, making her preparations, when the King had sniffed her out. Now she ran, and the bear gave chase.

Otwei signaled to Banan using the necklace she wore, and he hooted like an owl to let Voorhei’s hunters know that the King approached. It proved unnecessary—we all heard the sound of trees falling in the distance.

I gripped Bearbane, and merged with Yuki.

Otwei ran for her life. No matter what tricks she used, how quickly she ran, or how well she weaved through the forest, the King wouldn’t let her go. Trees cracked and snapped. The ground trembled. His roar sent birds flying and animals fleeing. She left poison spikes in her wake, but the kalihchi bear was unaffected. The decoy trails she’d arranged overnight also proved ineffective. Nothing impeded his single-minded pursuit. Her only good fortune was that he’d not shot his lightning at her yet. Instead, he seemed intent on capturing her.

Otwei specialized in avoiding danger, but she was no stranger to it. This bear, though, felt like a force of nature, his will over the forest supreme. What he wanted, he inevitably got, and she felt small and incapable of harming him.

That feeling—she hated it. Her spite rose up and spurred her to run faster. She reached for the signaling stone around her neck and alerted her team a second time. The bear was likely to be a greater threat they’d anticipated. They needed to prepare to flee if necessary.

Our consciousnesses split, and I looked over at where Banan and Kuros hid. The bushes obscured their physical bodies, but I saw their spirits huddled together as they conferred.

“Banan’s team may run,” I whispered, “once they see the bear’s strength with their own eyes.”

My team looked at me in surprise. Mumu spoke for them: “What makes you say that?”

“They’ve cheated other hunters before,” I said. “They may do it again.”

“But their reputation—”

There wasn’t time for explanations. Otwei approached. Her blurred form shot from the forest and headed for where Agath and Moon stood ready.

The King of the Forest smashed through the trees. He was as big as a tank and just as imposing, every line and muscle weighted with menace. Spotting Agath and Moon, he stood on his hind legs and towered over the field. The dolbecs looked like children in comparison, and when he roared, all the spears in the ground trembled.

My mouth was dry, and my breathing ragged. My heart thundered in my ears. Inside me, Yuki suppressed the amount of adrenaline being pumped into my bloodstream, and I paired it with a calming breath.

I turned my attention to:

The King of the Forest (Animal, Dusk)

Talents: Lightning-Touched, Territorial, Unending Endurance, Domineering, Iron Belly, Gourmand

His Status read differently compared to the last time I’d examined him. Back then, he was described as a kalihchi bear, not the King of the Forest. Not that it was surprising—I’d already seen examples of names changing based on community perceptions. Also, the Gourmand talent was new.

Agath and Moon threw spears, but the King wasn’t even annoyed with how they pricked him. He just swept them away from his body, then leapt and soared over the dolbecs to land where Otwei hid in Camouflage. Somehow, he knew her location.

Moon charged, but his spear snapped against the bear’s body. He fell back to get another, while Agath took his place. Her strike must’ve hit something sensitive, because the King spun and swiped at her, crumpling her shield and sending her flying.

Moon thrust at his face to get his attention, and that was when the ballistae fired. The bolts whistled through the air and smashed into the bear, the force visibly rippling through his musculature.

That made the King angry. He stood and roared again, and Borba took that as his signal to attack. He screamed an incoherent cry and charged onto the field. He looked leaner than before, almost stick-like, but there was a ferocity to him. His hands and forearms were covered in red scales, and they glowed with a dim, rusty light.

Borba the Murderer (Human, Dusk)

Talents: Hard-Working, Lean, Enduring, Rage, Siphon, Hungry

Borba’s spear barely penetrated, but the rusty light spread to the bear’s body. The King didn’t like that—not one bit—and he slammed his paws down to crush Borba. The hunter rolled aside and struck with his spear again, the rusty light spreading.

From the opposite side, Inleio charged. The attack was without embellishments, every motion pure and enhanced with a Dog’s Agility and Bear’s Strength that had been trained over a lifetime. It was like watching a hummingbird’s wings, but the impact staggered the King.

Two more ballistae bolts struck the kalihchi bear, rocking him. Kesa’s team emerged from hiding to attack with their spears, and they ran back out. Then Mumu led us in for our pass.

Her Spiral Pierce was marginally useful in penetrating the King’s thick fur. The same was true for Tegen’s Bear’s Strength, so I scaled back my expectations for the impact of my own attacks. My aim was to distract more than to harm. If all went well, the real work would be done by the first circle of fighters.

Bearbane made a liar out of my expectations. The spear cut through the thick hide easily, parting it to expose the red muscle underneath. There was no time to examine the wound though, as I quickly dashed away.

The hunter teams in the outer circles released their arrows, but the bear ignored them. He even ignored Borba, Inleio, and the dolbecs. Instead, the King turned to follow me with his eyes. Just as Banan and Kuros finally stepped out of hiding to attack, the King released his lightning.

43

The King of the Forest I

A single incandescent streamer arced toward Borba and flung him to the ground, where he convulsed. The electricity bridged the air to Inleio, and he was knocked away too. He kept his footing though. The lightning-protection potion had worked.

The King swiped at Inleio, but the master hunter dodged back and flicked his spear forward to pierce the gap between the bear’s claws. The King scowled, and I saw a cunning in his eyes; his intelligence noted the combatants around him, as well as those farther out. I saw… I saw his decision to expand the scope of his attack: the single streamer into an auroral conflagration.

Coronal streamers arced from the King’s body in every direction. They struck the nearby hunters as they ran for the protection of the wired spears with enough energy to send them tumbling. The air ionized. I smelled heated iron and smoldering buckskin, burnt hair and charred wood.

The aurora spread and covered the entirety of the field. The King gloried at the blazing center of an electrical storm. The intensity of light and its afterimages obscured my vision. My breathing labored under the pressure of his intent. And yet, I was untouched. The lightning licked at everything and everyone except—mysteriously— for me and Otwei.

The corona dissipated and left behind random discharges of electricity between the planted spears. The King ignored them and the prone hunters, and then chose instead to pounce upon Otwei. She dodged aside, but the tiniest sliver of shock and disbelief slowed her. The King’s claws tore through her left shin, ripping her foot from her body. Blood sprayed, but Otwei marshaled her qi to stem its loss. She spun away, though the bear followed with another swipe that tore her open from chest to belly. A final swipe severed Otwei’s head from her body.

Alarm rang through Yuki, but the piece of them inside her escaped through the sudden gap—before the King snapped up Otwei’s head and crunched it. A moment later he bit into her body; his claws shredded through her as if searching for something.

I ran in with my spear. Honestly, it was a stupid move, but all I could think was that I had to distract the bear and save that portion of Yuki. So, I thrust. More ballistae bolts thunked into the bear. Arrows peppered him from all directions.

The King scowled and turned toward me. He sniffed, and saliva dripped from his jaws.

Yuki’s alarm only intensified. They recognized the hunger in the bear’s eyes. It was the same as when they’d resided in the Red Room—when the King had come to visit to feast on the eilesheile, the thing he most loved to eat in the world. Somehow, he had recognized the presence of the uekisheile within Otwei. Within me.

Time. We needed time. To run and think and plan for this new development.

The piece of Yuki that used to be inside Otwei pulsed with qi—that drew the King’s attention. He lunged, but the lichen sped away. Small and fast thanks to Dog’s Agility, they avoided his attempts to capture them. Meanwhile, I ran for the trees, released my Dog’s Agility, and plunged into Camouflage and Scentless Hunter. I did my best to regulate my breathing and calm my thundering heart.

The other combatants picked themselves up to rejoin the fight. Their renewed attacks caused the King to lash out at them, which in turn was distraction enough to give Yuki the leeway to get the separated piece into hiding too.

The King knocked the hunters’ spears aside. His massive head swiveled, but he was no longer able to sense Yuki. Both the main body within me and the separated piece were now hidden. His anger and frustration grew as the hunters’ spears poked and prodded him.

Electricity crackled along the King’s fur, ready to discharge once again, but the dolbecs smashed into his side to knock him off balance. They were blasted back for their trouble, but the opening was enough for Inleio and Mumu to get in front of him. They went for his eyes.

The King ducked, their spears scraping the top of his skull. The next moment, he got under the hunters and tossed his head to send them flying.

The King leapt away, likely to search for Yuki. He sniffed at the air and batted aside the hunters who got in his way. And then—when he realized that he’d lost the uekisheile—he roared his frustration. Lightning splashed in all directions, filling the field with its radiance. The planted spears drew away what they could, but the hunters struggled to remain standing.

I was well away by then, hidden and still.

A pair of ballistae bolts hit the King across the scruff of his neck. Raging, the bear launched himself at the closer of the two hills. He landed with a crash and splintered the logs protecting the emplacement. I moved forward for a better view and spotted the crew retreating. The ballista had been crushed under the King’s weight.

He leapt at the other emplacement, but a blunt bolt hit him across the shoulder to deflect him aside. Another smashed into his nose. And then came a third, just as quickly. The last was a regular bolt, and it pierced the flesh between shoulder and head. The three bolts had flown too quickly—magic must’ve been involved.

The attacks infuriated the King even more. He launched himself at the emplacement, but the crew was already gone and running down the hill. The ballista was smashed apart by attack after senseless attack.

The hunters on the field picked themselves up. Inleio said something to Mumu, and she signaled with her hands for the outside teams to retreat. Kesa’s team was to fall back and dive in only if there was a hunter in trouble.

Inleio and the rest had enough time to reposition; the dolbecs and their shields were in front, Tegen behind them, and the rest behind him. Banan and Kuros hadn’t run—if anything, their faces were stony and their eyes narrowed as they gripped their spears. Was it loyalty to Otwei? A desire for revenge? She would’ve understood that.

I was surprised by my own feelings of loss at Otwei’s death. She was spiteful and petty, but I’d also spent days nestled against her thoughts. I’d learned from her, yet now her experiences were gone. At least from the material world. Her ghost yet raged, her voiceless mouth spitting anger at the King.

The bear bellowed when the destruction of the ballista was complete. A massive stroke of lightning announced his triumph. He leapt back down onto the field of battle and charged at the dolbecs.

They knelt and braced their shields, taking the same position they’d used against the charging musk ox alpha. The King didn’t have a charging talent, but he out-massed the musk ox many times over. He smashed into Agath and Moon and threw them aside. Yet, they had slowed him enough for Tegen to drive his spear into the wound left by the last ballista bolt. The other hunters flowed around him, quick as a blink to thrust their spears at the bear’s face.

Borba didn’t have Dog’s Agility. Where the others attacked three or four times, his spear lagged—and yet that worked to his advantage. While avoiding the dangerous fast spears, the King ignored the slow one, and it bit into the open wound at his shoulder. A rusty glow spread from Borba to the bear, and it surrounded the wound.

The King reared to avoid further attacks on his shoulder. For the first time during the fight, he backed off. The rage in his eyes diminished, and he looked at the hunters before him. The glow at his shoulder didn’t dim, however. It pulsed, and the rusty-red light along Borba’s arms pulsed in time with it.

Stick-thin Borba grew visibly thicker. The expansion started at his arms and moved into the rest of his body like a balloon being filled.

At the start of the battle, the King had been a tower of qi, but the level of qi had dropped as he generated lightning, losing significant amounts during the coronal discharges. If Yuki was sensing it correctly, then he had half his qi left. And now, it decreased even further, a slow leak that fed Borba.

He threw himself at the hunter, his mouth gaping to bite Borba’s head off, but he was warded off by Mumu and Inleio’s spears long enough for the dolbecs to intercede and knock him aside.

Banan thrust his spear at the unbalanced bear. His attack was straightforward—polished, mechanical, and powerful. Kuros followed after him, and his spear was like water, a series of rippling thrusts and slices that tore through the King’s hide to create gaps for the others.

And so, the combatants fought—the King swiping at the hunters to keep them at bay so that he could reach Borba, and the others doing everything in their power to keep that from happening. Borba hung back, his body slowly swelling.

This hadn’t been part of the original plan. No one had known that Borba’s dusk abilities would be this effective, but these were all experienced hunters. They adapted, improvised, and fought tooth and nail against creatures that often vastly outpowered them.

Finally, the bear could take no more. He lit up with lightning’s fire, the streamers pouring from his body. I turned my eyes to keep them from being blinded, but only long enough to reinforce them with qi.

When I turned back, I saw the hunters struggling to stand—all except for Borba, who this time seemed unaffected. He charged at the King to keep him from attacking the others, since they were in no condition to defend themselves.

As far as I knew, Borba still wasn’t able to cast spells—his dusk abilities were instinctual—and yet his strike against the bear reverberated loud enough for me to hear it from my hiding spot. His attack was faster too. The second thrust hit the bear across the right foreleg. Blood arced along with the lightning.

The bear struck back, and Borba rolled to avoid it. He stood in time to dodge a second attack, but the third he had to block with his spear’s haft. The wood sheared, and the King’s claw carved Borba’s chest open.

The King’s corona died.

Borba stabbed with what was left of his spear, his face twisted in rage. I saw the white of his ribs and the mottled gray of his lungs. One lung was torn, and the tissues fluttered as he moved.

Yuki—

Yes.

I dropped Scentless Hunter, and Yuki pulsed their qi. The King turned to where I hid, but that didn’t stop his final strike. His claws tore into Borba once more, and the rusty glow that had surrounded him dissipated.

The King leapt towards my hiding place, but I’d already re-cast Scentless Hunter and changed positions, moving as quickly as I dared. He shredded bushes and knocked down trees to find me. When that didn’t work, he poured lightning into the area.

The lightning licked at me, but my chainmail drew the worst away. I closed my mouth and eyes, though a trickle penetrated through my nose, only to be blunted by the lightning-protection potion. My body felt numb, heavy, and jittery, like I’d drunk too much coffee after staying up for two nights, but that was all. The potion’s protection had held. I opened my eyes, and continued my escape.

The King rammed trees, knocking them down, and they fell all around me. At first, I thought it was random, but then I realized the trees were forming a circle to enclose me. I quickly moved back toward the field of spears, so as not to be trapped.

In the middle of the field, Kesa’s team surrounded Borba. Mumu knelt beside him, and listened as Inleio talked to him. All their expressions were grim. Was the man still alive? His spirit still seemed to be attached to his body, and the connection grew as Ben and Mumu poured the contents of their water skins across his chest. Healing Water, no doubt.

Ben took Kesa’s water skin and poured that as well, and then one more from his team. Borba jerked awake, and the others had to hold him down as he howled to get free. He was thin again, though, and the wound on his chest was only partially closed.

Inleio knelt and grabbed Borba’s hand to force the remnants of his spear into it. Inleio then pushed the spear into his own chest. The rusty light ignited upon Borba’s arms, and it spread to Inleio’s body. The lodge master stepped back, but the light followed him. He visibly began to shrivel.

Mumu yelled at Borba. She slapped him until he came back to his senses. Borba stopped struggling then, and the others let him stand. They gave him a new spear, and reformed their formation.

Inleio took his place among them. Then it was his turn to catch fire: an orange-red glimmer that spread to his chest and limbs. His body filled out, and his strength returned to him. His qi was full to bursting, spilling out when his body could no longer contain it.

The hunters jogged toward the forest, and their path took them close enough for me to hear.

“I won’t last long,” Inleio said.

“We’ll finish it before the spell ends,” Mumu said.

Inleio shook his head. “We do what we must. If it takes longer than I have life left, then that’s the way of things. Now, let’s move.”

Horrified, I remembered that he had a spell called Body Burner, and that he was part of a group called the Last Line. Their duty was to sacrifice their lives for the village.

“Inleio,” I whispered.

The hunters must’ve heard me, but none stopped walking towards the forest. Mumu merely nodded, and Inleio smiled.

Years ago, in another life, I had been reviewing footage from World War II: soldiers pressed against each other in their landing craft, traveling across the water to storm the beaches at Normandy. There was a lad among them, sandy-haired and freckle-faced, who’d caught the camera man filming and smiled.

At the time, I had asked the editor to stop the reel, then stared at the frozen still for a good long time, communing with the dead and trying to understand that innocent, haunted smile. I had sensed meaning there, but it had been too deep and too complicated to parse.

“To fear death is to fear life,” I whispered, and turned around to sneak back to where the hunters fought.

44

The King of the Forest II

The trees draped in wires intercepted the King’s lightning. It was enough to protect the hunters, though the wood smoldered and the metal softened like taffy being pulled apart. When the lightning abated, the hunters emerged from behind the trees to attack.

Borba immediately drew the bear’s attention once again, and the two antagonists launched themselves at each other. The rest of the hunters punished the bear for ignoring them. Inleio’s spear in particular pierced deep. His movements, free of ornamentation, pure of intention, embodied the hunters’ Spear Arts. He held nothing back, and in doing so, his spear reciprocated.

One attack became two, and two turned into three. Then, like a magician revealing his trick, Inleio’s spear multiplied; it seemed to materialize from everywhere in front of him. He left afterimages as he moved through the Spear Arts stances, and his attacks must’ve stung, because the King swiped at him. The small shield attached to the hunter’s prosthetic was ripped from his arm. The momentary distraction let Borba slip in a strike, and a rusty glow spread yet once more onto the bear’s side. The bear leapt away before Borba’s spear could bite into him more deeply.

The hunters got back into formation, and the King stared them down, his eyes calculating and his breathing rough. There was blood on his fur too, but not enough given the wounds across his body. He should have been bleeding to death, but wasn’t. None of the injuries appeared to be fatal. If he retreated now, I had no doubt he would return to full health.

The standoff continued long enough for me to slip into position behind the hunters and for the separated piece of Yuki to station themselves twenty yards to the left. “Be ready,” I whispered.

None of the hunters turned around, but I felt the swirling of their qi intensify.

I dropped Scentless Hunter, and Yuki pulsed their qi. The King of the Forest raised his head and narrowed his eyes. A moment later, he leapt at where the hunters gathered. I dodged back, then cloaked myself in Scentless Hunter as I moved to the right. The bear and the hunters now fought in the space between me and the separated piece of Yuki.

Once more, Inleio stood at the fore. The bear swiped at him with his claws, but that didn’t deter the master hunter. He dove in and out in a shifting, dizzying array of spear thrusts. The bear sparked electricity along his fur in response, but before he could discharge it, the separated piece of Yuki dropped their Scentless Hunter and pulsed their qi.

The bear spun and leapt, but the separated piece fled into the underbrush, its scent masked as soon as the bear was in the air. The King roared in frustration at losing the scent, and a bolt of lightning arced into the nearest tree.

It took only a moment for the hunters to get back into formation. They charged him, and I used the chance to find a new position, once again opposite the separated piece of Yuki.

The strategy repeated once more: Yuki and I distracting the bear and moderating the pressure on the hunters. That was, until the King decided that he didn’t want to play anymore. He backed off and refused to be lured in by Yuki’s qi.

The dolbecs taunted the bear; they waved their spears and yelled insults. When that didn’t work, they charged, the other hunters following after, but the bear leapt away and kept his distance.

He watched the hunters, his eyes considering.

The hunters pivoted and charged again, but this time the King received their attacks. He batted them aside and retreated, not letting the hunters get behind him. None of the spears, not even Inleio’s, reached his body, so the hunters focused on attacking his paws and legs.

Throughout, Yuki pulsed their qi. The bear noticed—he glanced my way—but the distraction was minimal and didn’t create any opportunities for the hunters.

The fight became a slog. The hunters desperately fought to pierce through the bear’s defenses, but their qi and mana eventually ran dry. Their attacks slowed and weakened, losing their capacity to pressure the King. The hunters began to tire, as well. They made small mistakes and got in each other’s way.

Inleio was the first to drop out, his speed and grace disappearing. He carefully withdrew to keep from becoming a liability to the other hunters.

From where I crouched, I saw his back bow and skin wrinkle. The fire that I’d seen ignited in his body guttered, and my heart sank as his once vital body diminished before my eyes, aging twenty years in the process. He stayed close by, though, to call out instructions and warnings. The others fought on, determined to see the hunt through.

How long could they keep it up before they, too, were spent? The King of the Forest had Unending Endurance. There was no way the hunters could outlast him, no matter how determined they were.

Only Borba kept up the pace, but he alone wasn’t enough, especially now that Inleio had nothing left for him to Siphon. The hunt would fail and more people would die—unless a new variable was introduced, one that changed the fight’s dynamics.

I was untouched, and my qi was still full thanks to Yuki feeding me theirs. I’d used about half my mana on Scentless Hunter, though. Tension ran through me. Terror as well, if I was honest, but I resolved to keep going.

I checked Bearbane, and the spear was in good condition. Nothing I’d found could nick the spearhead, and that apparently included the King of the Forest’s bones. The water skin at my side contained enough water for two healing spells.

I felt Yuki’s readiness, and through them, Sun-on-Snow’s. She lay in wait, prepared to pull me out of danger if it became necessary. Between breaths, I merged with Yuki for a brief dip into her consciousness to check on our ability to see through her eyes, and confirmed we were visible to her. We’d been working so hard to make sense of the neural impulses related to vision, and the effort was worth it.

Her intensity of focus was breathtaking, and we took a moment to dwell in it and sharpen our own resolve. We didn’t let ourselves linger long, though, and we soon separated our component consciousnesses. Each of us had our parts to play.

Ah, if only my version of the Blink spell worked as well as hers.

Inside my heart dantian, a small cage hummed. Inside that, a qi sculpture crafted by Yuki waited to be connected to my meridians. The cage and sculpture were Yuki’s and my attempt to mimic the role of body power in the Blink spell. In effect, the structure was a kind of emulator based on what we’d seen inside Snow.

The emulator even worked; I had been able to successfully teleport from one side of the Glen’s pool to the other—but then I’d had to cast consecutive Healing Water spells to stop the internal bleeding that resulted. Bleeding (3), to be specific.

We’d tried to refine the emulator in time for the hunt, but the work was slow and frustrating. As a result, the spell wasn’t feasible in the middle of a fight, not unless I wanted to bleed to death in the process. That was why Snow was on standby.

Inventory complete. All the players ready. There was nothing else but for me to attack.

I circled around to the bear’s rear. The noise and chaos of the battle masked my approach and gave ample opportunity to line up a Sensei-approved thrust. Yuki cast Dog’s Agility and Iron Heart for me, then Bearbane leapt forward to strike the King in the ass. I’d aimed for his testicles, but he’d moved at the last moment. Still, the spear sank a good two feet into his rear before I had to dodge the kick that came at me in response.

The King roared his outrage and swung around, exposing his butt to the others. They pounced and tore into the wound I’d opened for them. A wave of rusty light swept over the back of the bear’s body. The King swung around again, but Borba was already running for the trees, his body thicker than before.

I’d expected the King to give chase, but I underestimated his desire to eat delicious things. He’d smelled Yuki within me once before, and he must’ve realized there was a good chance the uekisheile was still inside me. That caused him to hesitate: to choose between the danger to his qi—Borba—and that which was most delicious—Yuki.

The King’s response was to arc lightning in all directions. I took a massive streamer to the chest point blank. My mail bled the electricity into the earth, but the ground quickly became saturated, and some came back up through my shoes. Fortunately, the lightning-protection potion blocked it.

The sweat that accumulated in my hair and under my clothes vaporized in a flash. My skin was scalded, especially around my groin and under my armpits where the steam didn’t have any easy exits to escape.

I gasped and threw myself aside, which was just enough to dodge the King’s lunge. Yuki cast a quick Anesthetic to numb the pain, and I followed up with Dog’s Agility to give us some distance. The other hunters also scattered to avoid the lightning splashing from the bear.

The King looked like he wanted to try another quick lunge to get me, but his qi continued to bleed out towards Borba. The hunter was still running, his arms and legs pumping, and getting farther and farther away. I realized he was trying to protect himself while draining the bear’s qi.

With a growl and mighty leap, the bear smashed through a stand of pine trees to close the distance with Borba. The streamers wrapped around the hunter, but they seemingly made no difference. He focused on dodging and weaving between what was left of the trees. The King let the aurora peter out and ran after him.

I hurriedly poured Healing Water down my pants, then splashed it on my head and under my arms. The blisters diminished, and the skin’s color faded from an ugly red to deep tan. There was a hitch in my step—likely a pulled muscle—but I let the water run down my leg and that smoothed out my gait. Manipulating my qi for me, Yuki shifted us back into Camouflage and Scentless Hunter.

I was almost out of mana now—only about four points left—but my qi ticked back up to full as Yuki refilled my reserves.

How’s your qi? I asked.

We’re at about half.

That was worth about another 35 points of qi, then. Yuki had estimated that they had twice my capacity, so the two of us together represented a ridiculous amount of qi when full—over 100 points’ worth.

Inleio had watched me fade into the background. His voice when he spoke was thready, but there was steel in it nonetheless: “Haol, switch to archery. You’re not doing much good with a spear. Tegen, withdraw for healing, but return quickly. Agath and Moon, how are you holding up?”

The dolbecs took stock of their arms and armor. Their shields had long been shredded, and there were several blood-soaked rents in their brigandine. Thin wires dangled from the small plates under the cloth. Thankfully, in addition to their potions, the team from Albei had followed the Voorhei hunters’ lead by also using wires to protect against the bear’s electrical attacks.

“We have strength enough,” Agath said for them.

“And I have qi for one more Pierce,” Mumu replied, panting.

“Same,” Kuros said, and Banan nodded to show he’d also saved enough qi for a Spiral Pierce.

Inleio turned to watch Borba dodging the King’s claws. The bear looked like a giant porcupine with all the arrows and ballista bolts sticking out of him. Still, Borba’s efforts were buying the others time to recover.

“We need a fatal strike,” Banan said, his eyes also on the battle. “A heart shot.”

“The muscles around it are too tough,” Mumu said. “It’s like striking iron. What about his brain?”

“The bones behind the eyes and mouth won’t be any weaker,” Kuros said, shaking his head. “Even with Pierce, the small ribs were enough to deflect my spear.”

“Blinding him would still be good,” Agath said.

“We’ve been trying to blind him,” Kuros said, “and it hasn’t gotten us anywhere, you stupid—”

“That’s enough,” Banan said. “The bear knows the danger that blindness poses.”

In the distance, the King crashed through the forest and left it in tatters. The spirits who lived in and among the trees raged at its destruction. An ill will collected around the combatants: the forest’s spite.

The last of the rusty light on Inleio’s body flickered out. He had nothing left to give Borba, and he shuddered, no longer able to stand upright unaided. The lodge master waved off Mumu’s offer of help and leaned on his spear. His voice was barely a whisper: “Eight?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Another ambush with Bearbane, but this time from the side. Banan will follow to make it look like—” Inleio coughed, and blood splattered on what was left of his prosthetic. “He’ll make it look like we’re aiming for his heart. It will be good if the strike lands true, but the real targets are his eyes, which will be Mumu and Kuro’s responsibility.”

“And us?” Agath said, gesturing to herself and Moon.

“Will charge from the rear to break his stance.” Inleio turned to look at each hunter. “All is for the purpose of creating an opening for Mumu and Kuros. Understood?”

The hunters nodded one-by-one, with Banan being the last to agree. They checked their gear one final time and left Inleio behind, leaning against a tree.

45

The King of the Forest III

None of the other hunters had the qi to spare for Camouflage, so they hid themselves in bushes and behind trees. When they were ready, Mumu signaled Borba with a hawk’s cry to lure in the King of the Forest.

I gripped Bearbane tight and waited for the action to start, but Borba was too engrossed in dodging the bear’s attacks. Mumu had to signal him twice more before he changed direction and zigzagged toward us.

Borba looked terrible—his clothes in tatters and his skin as red as a boiled lobster. Bits of white bone poked from his chest, and his eyes were wide. In terror? In euphoria? I couldn’t tell. But he moved through whatever pain he felt, and brought the King to where the hunters lay in wait.

And yet, the bear was waiting for us too. For me in particular.

He must’ve known an ambush was coming. The moment I struck, Bearbane sinking into his flesh, electricity poured into me through the spear. The muscles in my hands and arms became rigid as the heaviness I associated with the lightning-protection potion bubbled under the onslaught.

The world narrowed. All I could see were my hands connected to the spear and the spear in the bear’s side. There was movement to my left: Banan’s thrust traveled in slow motion, but it was secondary to the war raging within me—the lightning forcing its way inside.

The bear rocked as the dolbecs slammed into him, but my hands wouldn’t—couldn’t—let go. I was carried along with him. He dodged Mumu and Kuros’ attacks, and that rammed my spear’s haft into my abdomen. It made for another contact point for the electricity, and my belly fizzed like it was full of cola. The feeling spread, and I realized the potion’s effects were wearing away.

The electricity rushed into me, but lightning called to lightning. The bear’s qi was met by my own, and the two smashed together, mingled, and repelled, a storm raging. Yuki and I desperately fought to bend the energies downward—away from my heart and brain—into my legs, and then into the earth.

The moment only lasted five or six seconds, but by the end I felt ragged and wrung out. I was still alive though; my heart hadn’t stopped. The potion and the Iron Heart spell had done their work.

I looked up to see Mumu’s left cheek had been sliced open and blood spilling down her neck. Agath was down, but Moon held his ground above her. Kuros and Bannan were running, flat-out sprinting away from the fight. It appeared that our final attempt to kill the kalihchi bear had failed.

Borba had lost his spear, and now he clawed at the King like an animal. The King batted him away, smashing him into a tree, the trunk cracking with the impact.

The King turned on me next. There was a look of dumb surprise on his face to see me upright, so I used that chance to pull my spear free. I thrust to slice him across the face, revenge for Mumu’s injury. I drew back for another strike, but the bear disappeared from view.

I found myself twenty yards away and in the grip of Sun-on-Snow. Where I’d been standing, the King had flattened the ground with his body—he’d tried to smash me.

Snow blinked again. Then once more. We moved in the direction opposite of the first-aid station. Were we running away? Plan C? My head was muddled, and I tried to shake it clear. I couldn’t leave yet. My team needed me.

The King roared, and the forest behind us lit up with his lightning. I gasped as the remnants of his qi flared within me, hot as a livewire. I clutched at it with my will, trying to force it out of my body, but the qi slipped away. It even eluded Yuki.

Snow blinked twice more before pausing to catch her breath. We were now almost a hundred yards away from the fighting.

My breathing was at the edge of hyperventilation, my senses washed out and distant. I fought to regain control of myself, but couldn’t while also struggling with the bear’s qi at the same time. I had to leave the internal fight to Yuki.

I focused on my breathing, then slapped my chest and arms to wake them up. Slowly, the numbness faded and my senses normalized, just in time to see the King leaping through the air in my direction. I was too far to reach in one bound though, so he landed partway with a crash. I didn’t wait for him.

I covered myself in Camouflage and Scentless Hunter, then took off at an angle so that I could circle back to where the other hunters were. As for Snow, I told her to hide and follow after me. She’d be able to tell where I was thanks to Yuki.

The King arced his lightning into the air, and his qi flared inside me again. Yuki wrestled with it to keep my spells from being disrupted. Then the bear leapt, but not to where I’d been. He aimed at my location at that moment, even though I was supposed to be hidden by my spells.

My spells—

They’re working. Yuki’s voice was distorted as they grappled with the foreign qi.

Then it’s the bear’s qi—

He’s using it to track us, Yuki replied. The attempt to force the energy out wasn’t working, so they’d switched to assimilating it instead.

If the bear can track me, should I rejoin the others?

Yuki didn’t respond. The answer was obvious: leading the King back would make matters worse for them.

From what I could see, the rusty splotches on the bear’s body were missing. Borba was out of the fight—unconscious or dead. And the other hunters were likely out of juice.

I hated to think it, but the lodge had failed. There wasn’t anything more they could do to seriously injure the King of the Forest. All that was left was to save as many hunters as possible..

So it’s Plan E, after all.

I oriented myself on the escarpment to the west, dropped my stealth spells, and sprinted with Dog’s Agility. I burst onto a game trail and followed it before taking to the trees and weaving between them. The ground began to slope up.

Yuki, let Snow know about the change of plans—

Busy here!

My steps faltered when the bear’s qi disrupted the pattern for Dog’s Agility. I tripped and fell on my face. Spitting out leaf litter, I climbed back up, then kept running. Trees crashed behind me as the kalihchi bear gave chase.

I re-spun the spell. My arms and legs pumped as quickly as I could move them.

The one good thing was that the creatures of the forest fled before me. Birds shot into the air. A giant lizard dove into the ground, like a fish into water. Even a false one fled in terror when I stumbled across its hiding place.

The forest blurred in a kaleidoscope of greens and ochres, grays and blues. But there was always the escarpment to the west. That kept me on course until I started to recognize other landmarks. Not far away—to the north—was the safety of the Glen, but I headed south instead, to Plan E and the Evil Mushroom Meadow.

Ikfael hadn’t signed up to hunt the King of the Forest. Yes, she’d likely join the fight if I led him to the Glen, but I’d be betraying her trust if I did. I’d rather die first, which was… which was a real possibility right now.

I felt like pissing my pants, but kept running. I dashed past the fallen red cedar whose bark I’d once used to braid rope. Not too far to the southwest was the first entrance to the cave that led to the Red Room. I’d cleared it of the boulder the bishkawi alpha had used to block it. That had been part of Plan C, the run-away-and-hide plan.

Eventually, I recognized the approach to the meadow. My steps slowed. If I remembered right, it was just another twenty yards ahead. Maybe if I circled, the King might land inside without exposing me to the mushrooms?

I moved around the meadow’s boundary—its ginger-honeyed scent just at the edge of my perception. Even at this distance, my mouth filled with saliva. A longing welled up inside my belly, and I took an unintentional step toward the meadow before catching myself.

I clutched Bearbane, prayed for strength, and kept circling.

Not far behind, I heard the thump of the bear’s landing. The flare of his qi within me was a needle in my gut, but it was much better than the pain that had been there before. Yuki was winning the war against it.

I got into position with the meadow in between the bear and me.

There was another thump, this time close by. If not in the meadow, then just shy of it. A tree cracked. Then a second. Bushes rustled, followed by silence. I licked my lips and debated taking a peek. I needed to know what was happening. As long as I stayed at the meadow’s edge, it should be okay. Right?

The response to my question was a war cry from Yuki from within me. All your base are belong to us!

They’d won the battle against the bear’s qi! Yuki’s qi was guttered, as close to empty as I’d ever seen it, but I was so proud. And relieved. Now, I could cast Camouflage and Scentless Hunter and have the spells do what they were meant to do, except I was out of mana. The tank felt empty.

Still, I masked myself from sight, then crept closer to the Evil Mushroom Meadow. Carefully parting the leafy branches of a fern, I saw the King pacing at the opposite end. In between us sat the mound of the evil mushrooms. Or as they were properly named:

The Golden Slumber (Fungus, Dusk)

Talents: In-Toxicating, Blight, Potent, Addictive, Rooted, Masked Rage

The scent hit me like a hammer. In spite of my resolve—and the bones littering the meadow—I longed to run in and taste one. I knew that it would kill me. I knew, but it didn’t help. What did help, surprisingly, were two things.

The first was Yuki’s recognition of seeing a creature similar to themselves. Their methodology was the same: lure and consume.

The second was the ghosts occupying the meadow—at least a dozen, maybe more. Some were relatively fresh—for example, a fox with two tails—but some were old enough to have lost all definition, now no more than amorphous blobs with dim red eyes.

I felt a visceral reaction to both these observations, chilling any desire to get closer. I held back while the bear paced and looked at the mushrooms in indecision.

Time passed, which was a mistake on the bear’s part. The longer one was exposed to temptation, the more likely they’d fall into it. Willpower was a resource just like any other. If you relied on it for too long, it would eventually run out. And the bear didn’t have Yuki and the ghosts to hold him back.

The bear took a step into the meadow, and then another. He was so huge, that was all it took for him to be within clawing distance of the golden slumber’s mound. His nose snuffled. It wouldn’t—maybe couldn’t—stop. Saliva dripped from his mouth in a stream.

He was covered in gashes, and must have been exhausted. Yet, he still fought the longing to eat the golden slumber. He scowled at the mound and made angry chuffing sounds, spittle blowing. Electricity sparked along his body—crackling between the ballista bolts and arrows embedded in his fur.

He lifted himself to standing in a massive threat display and roared, lightning arcing into the air and ground. None of the streamers hit the golden slumber though. It seemed that he knew what they could do; I vividly recalled how burning a mushroom had desiccated a pile of dragon dung and the area around it.

The trees and the bushes and the earth shook. His roar was so powerful, I felt it reverberate through my body. The forest afterward was utterly silent. Which made what came next stand out even more: the bear huffed. In disdain. In derision.

The King dropped down onto four legs. His breathing was heavy, his movements slow, but his eyes were clear. Then he began to laugh, a kind of hacking sound I’d never heard from a bear before.

The hope in my heart died. The King had resisted the temptation, and the plan for Mushroom Assured Destruction had failed. I knew it wouldn’t work even if I entered the meadow. Maybe earlier, the combined lure of Yuki and the golden slumber would’ve been enough, but it was too late now.

Never had I wanted for a fireball spell so much in my life. Even a flame arrow or a firebolt would do. I had Spark, but the odds of it igniting the mushrooms was negligible. Really, all that was left was to safely escape while under cover of Camouflage. And that was only possible because the bear wasn’t able to smell Yuki while in the meadow.

I wracked my brain for any alternative to running away.

Can I lure him elsewhere? Is there even a place as deadly as this meadow? Everything is afraid of the King. Even Yuki—just fighting off the remnants of the bear’s qi was enough to exhaust them.

I could attack from ambush, but then I’d get only one good strike in before being targeted by his qi again. I’d also be alone, without anyone to distract him from gobbling me up while I was incapacitated. I mean, I could Blink away, but then I’d have to deal with the resulting internal bleeding. And I’d still need to run away after. Or…

I paused as the kernel of an idea popped into my head, and Plan F began to take shape. This one would be a true last resort, though, because if it didn’t work, I’d be dead meat. Even if it did work, I would still need enough mana for a Healing Water spell to survive it.

What do you think, Yuki?

It’s risky, but we really want to eat this bear. We’ve been afraid of him for too long.

I felt them consider the problem. In the meantime, the King nosed among the animal remains, almost as if to flaunt his continued presence in the meadow.

Snow is closing in on our position, Yuki said. It would be good to have a way out if the plan fails.

The King flared his lightning, but there was no response from within me. The qi he’d been using to mark my location was gone, eaten by Yuki. The King chuffed in annoyance, but the moment passed as soon as he looked at the golden slumber’s mound. Then he yawned hugely, laid down as if to take a nap, and snickered. He closed his eyes. His ears continued to swivel though, and his breathing didn’t change. He was pretending to sleep.

Did he expect an ambush and this was part of a plan to counter-ambush? Or was this a way to diss the golden slumber? Maybe he wanted to recover his own magical energies? All three or something else entirely? I didn’t know, and didn’t care. The more time he gave me, the better my odds were of surviving.

I carefully shut down Camouflage to conserve qi. I also kept my eyes open and watchful as I worked with the uekisheile to recover mana as quickly as possible.

My eyes widened in surprise after about thirty minutes. Across the meadow, the bear began to snore. I eased forward to double check, and yes, his breathing had slowed. His ears were still, and there was a deadness, an utter exhaustion, on his face. His injuries were many after all, and the earlier battle had likely sapped much of his qi. Thank you, Borba.

I might not need Plan F, I thought. I could cast Anesthetic and poke him full of holes while he’s sleeping. It’d work with Bearbane, I’m sure of it. I considered the ground between us, and judged that it was manageable—I’d be able to stalk closer without waking him.

Wait a little longer, Yuki said.

It wasn’t like Yuki’s suggestion was wrong. I knew that waiting would only make me stronger, but at the same time, the longer I waited, the greater the risk that something would happen to wake the bear. This was an opportunity… Go slow to go fast, I reminded myself.

I held back and nervously waited until Yuki let me know that Snow had arrived. Then I waited even longer—meditating with eyes open—until I felt my mana recover about eight points’ worth. That’d let me cast Anesthetic and one more spell if I needed it.

Ready? I asked.

Ready, Yuki said.

A brief check told me that Snow was in a tree upwind of the bear. She felt tired-but-willing.

I slipped into the meadow and followed a path that avoided the worst of the ground clutter. The only noise came from when I moved through the unavoidable areas of long grass and wildflowers. I inched forward and tested every step, moving slowly to minimize the sound of my body brushing against the greenery.

A couple of the ghosts approached me to investigate, but I ignored them and focused on my movements, not letting myself get distracted. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest from a potent mixture of fear and excitement.

The sleeping King towered over me, even prone. I paused to wipe my hands dry and get a firmer grip on Bearbane. Then I took a deep, slow, silent breath and shifted my feet into position. I checked with Spear Arts-Sensei to make sure I was holding the spear, and visualized where the bear’s heart should be. I’d need to angle the attack up and under to avoid the shoulder bones.

I brought the Anesthetic rune to mind and was just about to cast it when the bushes rustled behind me. Quick as a thought, Yuki relayed Snow’s sight—a bishkawi had stumbled into the meadow.

The bishkawi was drawn to the golden slumber, but froze upon seeing the giant bear. I turned to look; it must’ve been a strange tableau, the two of us staring at each other in the shadow of the King of the Forest. The moment held for a couple of seconds, and then the bishkawi carefully backed away out of the meadow.

I licked my lips, my mind racing, but the area was quiet. There were no other interruptions. Not until I once again faced the bear, and a chittering howl arose in the distance. With a snort, the King opened his eyes, turned, and spotted me.

A wave of adrenaline washed through me. Time slowed, and...

Yuki—

—Plan F!

While the groggy bear started to rise, Yuki slammed Iron Heart into place and opened the connectors to the body power emulator. My qi spun wildly in a complicated dance. My body shook. The world tore apart. A part of me—the animal inside—wanted me to flee, to run screaming into the forest, but there was a hunter inside me too. A mindset and attitude that I’d started cultivating in my previous life, and that had continued to grow in this one. That hunter cut through the fear and chose to fight.

I flashed forward with the Blink spell—

—and materialized with the bear’s snout partially inside my abdomen. Not far, not deep, but it was a disturbing image nonetheless to see my body violated like that. I tore my gaze away and spotted my spear firmly lodged within the bear’s skull. I’d Blinked it directly inside his brain. The plan had succeeded.

The bear trembled. His maw opened, and that was enough to dislodge me, my flesh tearing. I fell to the ground and backed away. Yuki worked feverishly to stem the bleeding while my guts threatened to spill out, but I held them in place with my left hand.

Snow grabbed a hold and blinked us to the meadow’s boundary.

“No,” I said, wheezing. I’d never felt such pain before; even with Iron Heart still active, something about traveling with her was making my injuries worse.

I reached for my water skin, but it wasn’t at my side. A frenzied search showed me it was embedded in the bear’s snout, along with bits of metal, cloth, and flesh. The water was gone. I tried to think but my thoughts were getting fuzzier and fuzzier.

The closest stream was too far to reach by crawling, and Snow blinking me there would kill me. I felt my strength draining away.

Conditions

Bleeding (4), Lethal Wound (*), Shock

I was dying, but at least I’d killed the King: the bear’s massive body trembled one last time, and then went still.

“Yuki, you have to find a way to detach your main body and move into Snow.”

No. We’ll have her go get Ikfael for help. We just have to hold out. Let’s use qi and the last of our mana to reinforce your body.

My intestines were… spongy—not an observation I ever wanted to make. Blood spilled out despite my hands covering my belly. I didn’t think I’d last a minute longer, even with my body enhanced.

“It’s okay. I’ve already died once. It’s easy. But you’ll have to tell Ikfael about what happened. The kids too. Take care of them for me, okay?”

Foolish Ollie/Eight. When have you ever given up before? Yuki desperately pushed Iron Heart to its limits, and spread their qi throughout my body to further stabilize it. They even materialized their tendrils like bandages over the worst of the bleeding.

I grinned, but it turned into a blood-splattering cough. “True. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

Which was a complete lie. The pain was terrible—like I’d been torn in two—but as much as it would be nice to join Helen, there were still people in this world who needed me.

My focus was shot, and my grip on my qi and mana was sketchy, but I flooded my abdomen with energy and began to meditate to recover more. My thoughts slowed. My vision slowly darkened. A chill set in that wouldn’t go away. I was getting colder and colder. The spirits gathered around, and they looked so much brighter and clearer than they had before.

I heard a voice say, “Not now, love. You’ve still got things to do.”

Then another: “Little Pot? Little Pot! Gods, he’s injured! Quick—”

Everything went dark.

46

Truth and Dare

I felt hot and sweaty. The air was stuffy too. I shoved the blanket aside and turned over, but a sharp pain in my side jerked me upright. Instead of a kalihchi bear, though, late-afternoon light greeted me.

I was in Bihei’s longhouse. Her loom stood in the corner. Steam rose from a pot simmering over the cookfire—a corn porridge, from the smell of it. Propped up beside the door was Bearbane. I could tell the spear had been cleaned and polished. Its ebony haft was unmarred.

At the corner of the bed Aluali lay curled up in a ball, asleep. The animals had been let out for the day, so it was quiet in the longhouse. The only sounds were those of the people walking past outside and Aluali’s soft breathing.

He must’ve nodded off while watching over me. I stroked his hair, then noticed the splotches on his cheeks. He’d been crying.

Yuki?

Welcome back, sleepyhead.

We made it, then.

Yes, but it was close.

I lifted up my shirt and saw a scar in the shape of a sunburst covering my abdomen. No bloody bandages or inflammation though. Thank the gods for magical healing.

The scar was ugly, yet I was alive to appreciate its ugliness. That was what mattered.

I heard a voice there at the end.

Mumu? She and the others saw Snow take us, and they followed after. Her Healing Water—

I shook my head. I heard Helen.

Oh. The impact of my statement reverberated through Yuki. That means—

Yeah, I’d died. Or came close enough to straddle the line.

Yuki shuddered. Let’s not do that again.

I can’t promise that. Not to you or anyone else. Life’s a one-way street, and there’s only one destination.

Not for us, Yuki said.

I smiled, then immediately noticed my jaw felt sore.

Yuki explained: The lodge paid for both a healer and an alchemist to treat your wounds. The hunters were worried the golden slumber had gotten to you in addition to the kalihchi bear, so they forced your mouth open for a series of potions.

That must’ve been expensive, I said.

The healer, yes. The alchemist, on the other hand, nearly wet himself when he learned there was a stand of golden slumber nearby. Apparently, it’s valuable.

More than the eilesheile? I asked.

About the same. Anyway, it was good the alchemist was here. The hunters needed his lodge’s help in safely moving the King’s body from the slumber’s meadow.

Ah, yes. I could see how that would’ve been a problem.

It’s all taken care of now though, Yuki said.

And everyone’s all right? I asked.

Snow is back at the Glen, and Ikfael knows you are safe. Our team is also well. Some have new scars, but they’ve all healed. Inleio… Yuki’s dismay colored their next words. He’s alive. That’s something. That spell of his though, Body Burner… let’s never learn it.

My stomach sank. My hand, which had been stroking Aluali’s hair, paused.

And Borba?

Still alive, but caged. He’s lost himself and attacked several of the other hunters.

That was another blow. I’d hoped his performance during the hunt would redeem him, but apparently it had only made things worse. Anything else?

Ghitha took Banan, Kuros, and some soldiers to the King’s den, but all they found was evidence of an old battle and the wall Woldec had raised. Because of the way the stone was fused, none of them realized it wasn’t natural. Yuki snickered. Ghitha nearly went mad. They searched and searched, but didn’t find any of the cave entrances leading to the Red Room. Banan and Kuros were disgusted.

The two of them didn’t get in trouble for running away? I asked.

They lost their shares for the bear’s parts. Technically, they were employed by Ghitha, so it would’ve been his responsibility to deal with them. He didn’t. Instead, he canceled the dolbecs’ contracts and kept Kuros and Banan around to help find the Red Room. When they didn’t find it, he also fired them. The only reason they’re still in Voorhei is Otwei’s funeral.

They were fools, the lot of them. The dolbecs were the only good people on that team. How are they doing?

Agath and Moon are still recovering. The feeling of snickering-gloating-superiority dropped away from Yuki’s qi, and was quickly replaced by something more serious. We’ll have to deal with Ghitha soon. He blames us for what happened. “If we’d just told him the den was empty, he wouldn’t have spent all his coin on a fool’s quest.” Ghitha believes we colluded with Inleio to trick him into sponsoring the hunt. He’s also heard rumors about a new source of eilesheile being found by the Alchemist’s Lodge, and of course we’re his prime suspect.

Well, Ghitha wasn’t completely wrong. Inleio had used Ghitha’s obsession for his own purposes. Practical, pragmatic Inleio—he’d do almost anything to protect the village and its hunters. I couldn’t help but mourn the sacrifices he’d made to do so. As for the eilesheile, finders keepers.

“Zasha…” a soft voice roused me from my thoughts. “Oh, Zasha, you’re awake.” Aluali scrambled to hug me tight.

I grimaced—my wounds were still tender, but I didn’t say anything. Aluali was in tears.

“You were hurt—so hurt—and covered in blood. We thought you were dead.”

“There, there,” I said. “As you can see, I’m all right.”

Aluali shook his head. “But you were almost not. You have to be more careful, Zasha. Your life is more important than any bear, no matter how dangerous.”

“It had to be done,” I said. “And things turned out well, didn’t they?”

Aluali sat back and looked into my face. “Zasha won’t understand unless I show him.”

He scooted off the bed to retrieve my chainmail from storage, then held it up to show me. The armor had been cleaned of blood, fur, and gore, but the whole front lower half was missing from when I’d partially Blinked inside the bear’s snout.

“All the villagers who knew Healing Water came to cast the spell. And there was the alchemist and nasty healer too, just to make sure your insides were okay and there was no lasting damage to your body. Do you understand now, Zasha?”

“I understand,” I said dutifully.

“And you promise not to do such dangerous things again?”

I carefully got out of bed and took the armor from him. The links around the hole looked shorn completely through. “That I won’t promise. Because I’ll do what’s demanded of me, what’s necessary to protect those I love.”

“But—”

“There is no but,” I said. “This is who your zasha is. That’s all there is to it.”

I thought that was a fine way to end the argument, but the little imp was determined. He refused to give up, and instead argued his case while I changed clothes, ate three bowls of porridge—I was starving—and got ready to go to the Hunter’s Lodge.

As soon as I stepped out the door, Aluali puffed up proud like a balloon, and I quickly realized why: I couldn’t go more than a couple of steps without a villager coming up to touch me—on the arm, the shoulder, the head—and ask about my wellbeing. The bolder ones even asked for blessings.

I felt like the pope. And couldn’t help but want my own popemobile. I mean, everyone was polite, and I was happy to receive their well wishes, but it took nearly half an hour to walk to the lodge. The villagers only dispersed after I arrived.

Inside, Kesa and Mumu huddled over Inleio’s desk to discuss a sheet of paper between them. In the opposite corner, a pair of hunters individually wrapped bear teeth in cloth before putting them into a chest. Another pair carried an enormous heart over to a barrel full of salt, while a group worked nearby to strip bones of flesh and connective tissue.

The bustle and noise came to a halt as the hunters noticed me at the door. Then a collective sigh moved through the room. Smiles broke out like the sun emerging from behind the clouds. Someone ran to the back courtyard to announce my arrival, and more hunters crowded inside—many wearing aprons covered in gore, the bloody butchering knives in their hands forgotten.

The hunters made way for Inleio, enough space for him and Tegen, on whom he leaned. Someone had made a prosthetic cane for him, and it clicked against the stone as he approached.

The lodge master was a shell of his former self. His steps were slow and pained. His salt-and-pepper hair was now completely white. The vigor—the elan—that I associated with him was dust. None remained, except… he looked at me as he approached, and I saw determination in his eyes.

Maybe he knew what I was thinking, because he cracked his cane loudly against the stone, as if to announce that he was still alive. I smiled, and he smiled back. This was a man who didn’t regret his choices either.

“I have something for you,” he said. “But first—”

Inleio let go of Tegen’s support to place his hand over his heart and bow. The other hunters followed suit. I—well, I was embarrassed and pleased and touched and never had so much admiration from so many people before. I choked up, and the moment lasted long enough for me to start squirming. I was just about to say something to lighten the mood, but thankfully Inleio righted himself and the others did too.

“We are all hunters here,” Inleio said, “and we know what courage and skill it took to face the King of the Forest. Others may hear the story and praise you, but we, your brothers and sisters, we know. We understand. We recognize the gift you’ve given.”

The room shook with a sudden yell from the hunters. There were no words that I could pick out—just heartfelt expressions of joy-courage-appreciation.

The ritual room’s stone ceiling and wooden braces deadened the noise of the rambunctious hunters above. Surrounded by the tapestries of the forest, the corners cloaked in shadows, it felt like we were a world away.

I had started a fire while Mumu and Kesa worked at the herb cabinet to prepare a tea blend. Inleio gestured at them with his eyes as they continued to work. “I’ve decided that Mumu will be the next lodge master. Yet, because she is still unseasoned, I’ve asked Kesa to guide her.”

Mumu’s skill plus Kesa’s experience—as long as the two got along, it’d be a potent combination.

“Will it affect their teams?” I asked.

“Not at this time,” Inleio said. “Our village is prosperous enough that the lodge master doesn’t need to hunt, though Mumu refuses to leave the field.”

“It’d be a waste of her skills,” I said.

“So she has also said.” He grinned, clearly proud of her.

“And I’ll say it again to whoever tries to keep me out of the forest,” Mumu replied, walking over. She looked well enough, but a new scar ran from the top of her left eyebrow down to her cheek. She’d been fortunate not to lose the eye.

Kesa shook her head. “A wise hunter doesn’t keep their sharpest spear in the shed.”

“Is that a proverb?” I asked.

“No, but it ought to be,” Kesa said.

The hunters chuckled, Inleio’s turning into a raspy cough. The laughter died away, and I didn’t miss the pained expressions on Mumu’s and Kesa’s faces.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Inleio snorted. “Of course not. What a foolish question, Little Pot. But what is, is. There’s no turning back time. Not that I would. The King of the Forest is dead, and that’s enough for me.”

He looked over at Mumu, and she took the hint to start steeping the tea. The scent was familiar, and my stomach sank. I’d been afraid of this.

“Is that—”

Inleio nodded in approval. “You have a good nose. It’s the truth-telling tea, yes.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Why else? Because there are questions,” Inleio said.

“And these questions need to be answered?”

Inleio’s wrinkles deepened as he thought for a moment. “No and yes. No, in that we could live blithely on without the answers and likely not be harmed. Yes, in that the lodge is our joint responsibility, and responsibility requires us to press ahead even when there is discomfort.”

Well, it wasn’t like I blamed them for wanting answers. A lot had happened during the hunt that was mysterious unless you happened to know the full story.

Sure, I could refuse—walk away without answering their questions—but then what? They’d throw me out of the lodge for disobedience? Somehow, I wasn’t too worried about that. I’d already proven myself to be too valuable a member to discard. But even if it happened, even if they banished me from the village, I had the eilesheile and the deal with Uncle Kila. I’d find a way to make do.

I looked into the eyes of the three hunters across from me, and none of them appeared antagonistic. If anything, they held affection for me, each in their own way. Would their pragmatism override their affection though?

Yuki?

A lodge is another family, they said.

That’s not always a good thing, I said.

This family in particular, then, do we trust them?

I trust them to do what’s best for the lodge and for the village, I said.

And aren’t we part of both?

In my mind, my true home was with Ikfael in the Glen, though I had also ingratiated myself into the village and its Hunter’s Lodge. I cared about the people here, and that mattered. I could live without them, yes, but did I want to?

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest, safest decision, but my gut told me to go ahead and drink the tea. It said the upside was worth the risk, and if things went bad… well, I had Ikfael on my side.

The hunters didn’t say anything while the tea was steeping. They were content to let me think things through, which pretty much implied that I had secrets I wanted to keep hidden. So, yeah, okay. I nodded in agreement, then took the tea when it was offered to me.

Inleio waited until I had finished half the cup. My body loosened, and my breathing slowed. My thoughts drifted like clouds, but I felt safe knowing Yuki was there to watch over me.

The others drank too. Sharing the tea was supposed to be a gesture of respect.

“My first question,” Inleio said. “Are you well?”

“I’ve got an ugly-ass scar and some twinges, but I came out of the fight in better shape than I expected. No permanent damage that I can tell.”

The three hunters breathed a sigh of relief. Then Mumu took over for the questioning:

“How did you kill the King of the Forest? Yes, it was clever to use the golden slumber to make him drowsy, but even with Bearbane, you’re not strong enough.”

“Ah, it’s time I came clean about that: I tamed a blynx. Well, tame’s not the right word. Made an arrangement. Became friends. Her name is Sun-on-Snow, and she lives with me in the Glen, along with a couple of kittens named Oscar and Felix. They’re so cute. And their fur is so soft!”

Mumu held up a hand, her forehead wrinkling. “Wait, you what?”

“Made friends with a blynx,” I said. “But that’s not the cool part. The cool part is—”

Mumu interrupted, “So the blynx that snatched you during the hunt was an ally? How? Just how?”

“I have a spell that creates harmony between creatures, and before you ask, no, I can’t share it. I don’t even think I’m supposed to use it often. My impression is that it’s for special occasions.”

“Ikfael must care for you greatly,” Mumu said, “to give you this spell in addition to Healing Water.”

“Oh, it wasn’t—”

Ollie/Eight!

I shut my mouth and reconsidered telling them about the stonewater serpent. “I think Ikfael is warming up to me nicely.”

“And so this blynx,” Mumu said, “it helped you kill the King?”

“Yes. Snow—that’s her nickname—saved me from getting squashed by the bear, but she didn’t help me kill him, not directly anyway. Instead, she taught me the Blink spell.”

Kesa dropped her cup, spilling what was left of her tea on her lap. Mumu’s jaw dropped, and Inleio grunted in surprise. All three stared, and I cleared my throat and smiled.

“Eight, can you… share the spell with the lodge?” Inleio asked.

I shook my head. “Blink’s requirements include using body power in certain ways. I’m not sure how to teach that, and even if I did—the resulting damage is pretty severe. The spell is a last resort.”

The hunters’ faces fell in disappointment.

“There may be a hunter yet who has a talent for using body power,” Kesa said. “We should keep the spell in mind if that day ever comes.”

Mumu rubbed at her new scar as she thought. Does it itch? I wondered. Are their salves for itchy skin? There must be.

“But wait,” she said, interrupting my thoughts. “That means Eight can use body power. How? Have you been taking darklight?”

“No, not at all,” I said. “We made the spell work by simulating the effects of body power through a… uh… convoluted use of qi.”

The hunters chewed on that, but they seemed to take me at my word that it wasn’t a skill or spell I could teach.

“Amazing. Just amazing. Our Little Pot—” Mumu shook her head to clear it. She set her teacup down before continuing. “There’s only one question left. Eight, why did the kalihchi bear target you and Otwei?”

Oh boy. There it was. The question I’d been dreading-expecting-anticipating.

I gathered my thoughts. Reconsidered them, which wasn’t easy, since they tended to stray like chickens searching for—

This really wasn’t the time to be hunting for metaphors. Nor could I get distracted, no matter how much I wanted to eat fried chicken.

Yuki, help.

Their qi sparkled in amusement. You’ve already decided, so just do it.

And you’re okay with this decision?

Yes, Yuki said. We’re tired of hiding from our friends.

“I’m not alone,” I said to the waiting hunters. “Like Snow, I have another friend, but even closer. Much closer.” I reached out my hand, and Yuki’s tendrils sprouted from my palm.

“Oh, Little Pot,” Mumu said. “How much darklight—”

“It’s not… I’ve never taken darklight in my life,” I said firmly. “This is Yuki, a sentient lichen that lives inside my body. I know it sounds strange and maybe terrifying, but they’re my best friend.”

If the Blink spell had shocked the hunters, Yuki was a surprise several magnitudes larger. My answer to the question was clearly not what they’d been expecting. All three were speechless. They stared at the gently swaying tendrils.

“Yuki helps me with my spellcasting,” I said. “They’re a master of qi manipulation, and also the reason why I learn spells so quickly. They can transform into qi, which is how they—”

Kesa squinted as she thought through the implications. “This creature—”

“Their name is Yuki,” I clarified.

“This Yuki, then—can they go into other people?”

I cleared my throat. “Ah, yes.”

Mumu’s brows rose, unevenly thanks to the new scar. “Did they go into Otwei?”

“Yes,” I said. “Back when she spied on me in the Glen.”

Inleio breathed in deeply. “That’s how you learned Camouflage and Scentless Hunter spells.”

“How dangerous is this Yuki?” Mumu asked.

“How dangerous are you?” I asked in return.

Mumu smiled like a wolf, her teeth showing. “Very.”

“My answer is the same, but the danger is in service to me, my family, and this lodge. Yuki is as much a part of me as my own heart. What I do, we do together. All the good I’ve done, Yuki has done alongside me. They’re as much a part of this lodge as I am.”

Kesa raised her hand to get my attention. “If Yuki can go into other people, are they in anyone else right now?”

“Yuki can only maintain three distinct pieces of themselves away from the main body. Right now two are elsewhere. One is inside Snow to help coordinate our actions. And the other is… ah… there’s a piece of Yuki inside Ghitha.”

That seemed to give the hunters pause. Each of them sat back to consider the implications. Mumu and Inleio didn’t seem… displeased, but Kesa frowned.

She asked, “What about your team? Lodge brothers and sisters? Other villagers?”

“Never. The only times Yuki has entered another human being was when we had evidence that they intended us harm.”

There were more questions after that, but they were variations on what had already been asked. I explained the kalihchi bear’s attraction to uekisheile, hedging here and there but trying not to hide anything. Mostly, I tried to keep things simple, and not expose my origins.

The three hunters looked overwhelmed by it all. Sure, they’d seen a lot of incredible, unbelievable stuff in their lives, but Yuki was on a whole other level. It wasn’t even because the uekisheile could invade things and kill them from the inside, or that they were frighteningly intelligent—they’d seen those kinds of things before—but because Yuki was friendly.

It was like opening a gift under the Christmas tree and expecting a pair of socks—maybe a puppy if you were lucky—but a man-eating lion popped out instead. And then you found out all it wanted to do was lick your face and sit on the couch with you to watch A Christmas Story for the ten millionth time.

Eventually, the hunters ran out of questions, and they asked me to give them time to confer. I moved to the edge of the room to meditate, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the murmur of their conversation. I must’ve been tired, because the sound lulled me to sleep.

I awoke to Kesa touching my arm. “Eight, another question for you: does Ikfael know of Yuki?”

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. “Yes. She gave me some surprisingly good relationship advice.”

Kesa nodded. “Thank you. You can go back to resting.”

I didn’t think I could, so I straightened up into a meditation posture. Their murmurs were just as distracting as before though. I wondered what they were saying.

The next time, it was Inleio who woke me, flanked by the other hunters. “Eight,” he said, “if you wanted to kill Ghitha, can you do it? Right now? With Yuki?”

I licked my lips. “It’s possible, yes.”

“And it would appear as if he died on his own. Is that true?” Inleio asked.

Yes, our failsafes are well integrated now.

“It is, yes, but someone with a talent for investigation may discover something. There’s too much I don’t know about what’s possible.”

Inleio shook his head. “There’s no one in Voorhei who has such a talent.” He looked to the other two hunters. When they nodded in agreement, he continued. “Eight, we ask you to kill Ghitha with Yuki. The man will die anyway, but there will be less fuss if it appears he died naturally.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Disbelief welled up inside me, followed quickly by anger. Finally, I got a word out:

“No.”

“This is a request from your lodge,” Inleio said.

“No.”

“You will be rewarded. I know you want the King’s core. It will be yours without payment. There are also spells to be had—your contribution in this regard will not be small.”

“I refuse.”

“But he is a threat,” Inleio said. “We’ve all heard him speak ill of you and your family. What if he comes after you? After them?”

“Then I’d drop him in a heartbeat. He wouldn’t know what hit him. But I don’t need Yuki for that. The result would be the same if I used a knife, spear, or bow. He’d be dead no matter what. But that’s only if he became a real threat. There’d be justification.” I shook my head. “I won’t let you make Yuki into your hidden executioner.”

Inleio’s voice was grave. “Be careful, Eight. This is a test, and it will affect your standing within the lodge. Within Voorhei. You dare to refuse us?”

I laughed. “I dare. Listen to me again: I dare! I’m already wealthy. There’s nothing here that I want or need other than companionship. You can try to bribe me, you can try to threaten, but it’ll do you no good.”

“Even if we threaten you and your family?” Inleio asked.

My heart went cold, and there was ice in my voice. “That would be a very bad idea.”

Inleio watched my face closely. “Yes,” he said, nodding after a time. “Yes, I think so too. And it makes me happy to hear it.”

He smiled then, and the others smiled with him. That’s when it hit me. Their test—

“We wanted to be sure,” Inleio said. “Of your character, and of Yuki’s as well. That you would wield your weapons wisely, and that you would defend yourself from those that would try to wield you.”

“We’ll have to take steps,” Kesa said. “Others won’t know you as well as we do—they won’t understand our lodge’s relationship with Ikfael—so you should keep Yuki a secret from all except for your team, your family, and maybe a few select others.”

Inleio nodded. “At least for now, until you grow into your strength and your path is well-established.”

A tear ran down Mumu’s face, following the track left by her new scar. “You are a blessing to us, Eight. And now you are a blessing doubled.”

47

Just Rewards

That evening I was scolded by Billisha and given a long, teary lecture on the importance of preserving my life, which in turn inspired Aluali to redouble his efforts to secure a promise from me to not take chances when hunting. Bihei didn’t add to their pleading, but the haunted look in her eyes spoke volumes.

The thing is, they knew it was impossible for me not to take risks. I lived—we all lived—in a dangerous world. There wouldn’t always be time to prepare for and minimize the risks. I’d do my best, but life made no guarantees. Sometimes danger came like a knife in the dark. There’d be only the barest warning—a glimmer of moonlight on the blade—before one was thrust into a life-and-death struggle.

The kids knew that. It was just they’d been given a scare, and the pleading was their reaction to it. So I told them how much I loved them, and how much I’d do my best to keep coming home to them. I made no promises, though. They’d be too hard to keep. The hunt for the kalihchi bear had made that clear. Not every hunt would go to plan.

Billisha and Aluali knew that too—hells, even Bihei did—but I couldn’t stand the fear in their eyes when they looked at me. So, I told them about Yuki. Honestly, the decision was overdue. The cat was out of the bag anyway, and the kids were much more responsible than I’d ever been at their age. It’d reassure them to know I was never alone when hunting and that I had a powerful friend with me wherever I went.

The expressions on the kids’ faces when I explained about the intelligent lichen living inside me—the shock and incredulity—was absolutely magnificent. It was criminal that I didn’t have a camera. Gods, their surprise was so satisfying, like there was a little dad engine inside me getting fed the best fuel.

Yuki was anxious to get started and sprouted from my hands. Their tendrils waved as if to greet the family. May we?

I sent an affirmation, and Yuki separated a piece of themselves. They carefully picked their way down to the floor and approached the kids. It was a measure of the children’s trust in me that they didn’t back away.

“Yuki wants to say hello, but they’ll understand if you don’t want to.”

The kids looked at each other, doing that nonverbal communication thing they did with their eyes, but it was Bihei who stepped forward first.

“I… I’ll do it.”

She put on a brave face, but I could tell she was nervous when she picked Yuki up. Although, it was only a moment later when her face softened. “Oh,” she said, and bit her lower lip. Her eyes teared up.

What did you say to her? I asked.

How much we—Ollie/Yuki/Eight—appreciate everything she’s done. How we consider her to be family along with Billisha and Aluali.

Well, that was the truth, wasn’t it? Bihei had become a surrogate mother to the children, and while she was sometimes awkward with me, her care was evident in the details, the neat little stitches that bound our lives together. There was no way I wouldn’t reciprocate.

After that, Billisha and Aluali wanted turns, and damn it—the wonder, the sheer amazement, in their eyes when talking to Yuki was such that I gnashed my teeth and wanted a camera even more. Then their eyes got even bigger when Yuki and I explained about Sun-on-Snow, and I had to promise them a meeting with the blynx.

All the while, the dad engine inside me blissfully hummed.

Later, when everyone was asleep, I lay in bed still awake. The children were huddled beside me, the soft susurration of their breathing tickling my cheeks. Bihei had forgone her own bed that night and slept on the other side of Aluali. Her hand reached past him, though, and lay on my arm, almost as if to keep track of me.

I was tired and bone weary, but every time I started to fall asleep, the memory of how close I’d come to dying jolted me awake. In my mind’s eye, I kept seeing the kalihchi bear, his snout penetrating my abdomen.

After the third time, a reassuring warmth filled my chest. Yuki said, Go to sleep. We’ll keep watch. No bears will sneak in while you rest.

Easier said than done, I replied. An experience like that has a way of imprinting itself on the mind, you know?

Yes, we know. Yuki said, understanding exactly how I felt, because of course they did.

We sat together for a while, the uekisheile and I, just listening to the night’s quietude. There was a part of me that restlessly wanted to worry, but I did my best to shush those thoughts.

Finally, I couldn’t help myself and opened my spirit eyes, just to take a quick look and verify the bear’s ghost wasn’t haunting me. What I found instead was a room full of ghost dogs, a pack of them lounging in and around the longhouse. They were too big to fit—each was the size of a small car—so all I saw were pieces of them poking into the building, including the most surreal of all: a tongue lolling through the wall above me.

My heart eased at the lack of bears in the longhouse. I could hear the dogs panting, though, which gave me pause. Then, when I looked for Tenna’s Gift—for the shield that was supposed to protect every living thing from the dead—I found a hole in mine centered over my new scar, the place where I’d tried to hold my guts inside my body. I shuddered at the memory, and my hands must’ve tensed, because the kids stirred in their sleep. Neither woke, though, and I took a breath to steady myself.

The ghost dogs in the longhouse glanced over at the bed, and the one above my head came the rest of the way through the wall to give me an approving lick. He seemed to be of a similar breed as all the others, with a big meaty head and shoulders

I didn’t feel the tongue or any saliva—thank the gods—but there was a sensation, a faint pressure all along my face. Then, he carefully walked around the bed to lie on the ground. He along with the other dogs blocked the view of the rest of the longhouse.

When nothing else seemed to happen, I focused my attention back on Tenna’s Gift. The shield was as thin as I’d ever seen it, but over time it slowly thickened and the hole over my stomach filled in, bit by bit. The changes were miniscule, slower than a snail, and I thought my imagination was responsible at first, but after watching carefully for a couple of hours, I was pretty sure the shield was healing itself.

I reached out to touch an intact part of the shield, and it felt like pushing at tissue paper. If I will it, can I poke a finger through? What do you think, Yuki?

While we would normally be in favor of experimenting, maybe we shouldn’t be playing too recklessly with the gods’ gifts. Especially after a near mortal injury.

Oh. Yeah. You’re probably right.

I withdrew my finger, then just watched the shield for a time. Eventually, I must’ve fallen asleep.

My dreams that night were all happy ones. Yuki—bless them—made sure of it.

The next day, I went to check on my teammates. I stopped by Haol’s longhouse first, but his wife Dena let me know that he and Tegen were out hunting. Now that I was awake, the lodge was planning a feast to celebrate the success of the King’s hunt. Fresh game would be needed for the tables.

She explained that there was a ton of bear meat on hand—literally—but it was being salted and set aside; some was to be sold in Albei and the rest was to be stored for the winter. I’d learned earlier that the meat of dusk and dawn animals was more nutritious and kept longer, so that made sense to me.

Dena and I chatted for a while, and I was glad to learn that Haol was well. He’d come through the fight unharmed. The same couldn’t be said for Tegen, who’d had a collarbone and several ribs broken. He’d recovered well enough though, thanks to the healing he’d received and his own Nature’s Spring spell.

Next, I stopped by Teila’s longhouse. She had helped crew the first-aid station, well away from the fighting, and she looked perfectly healthy when I saw her.

She wasn’t as strong as me, yet Teila still managed to pick me up and spin me around. Then she lectured me for ten minutes straight about the importance of following the plan and sticking with the team and not running off on my own like Aku the Wild Child.

I tried to beg off when her grandmother came out to invite me for tea and a bite to eat, but Teila wouldn’t let go. I could’ve broken free, of course, but after seeing how worried she’d been for me, I caved and let myself be dragged inside.

After tea and corn cakes with Teila and her grandmother, I went to the Hunter’s Lodge. Villagers greeted me as I walked past. A few stopped to talk, but they were mostly the folks I hadn’t run into yesterday.

At the lodge, Mumu sat at the desk near the front door, while Kesa and Inleio supervised the flensing of the kalihchi bear’s fur out back. A row of hunters carefully scraped bits of flesh and fat from the hide.

The bear’s fur was in terrible condition from the fight, yet it was valuable enough to be worth the effort. Even if the fur couldn’t be sold, hunters wanted pieces to warm their beds or to fashion clothing from it. Given that the fur was already patchwork, they had cut it up into sections to make the tanning process easier.

I watched the work and did my best to contain my anticipation. With a quest complete, there should be rewards, right? Even if the quest is a metaphorical one.

Kesa glanced my way. “Little Eight, if you sigh one more time, I’m going to—well, a hunter must be patient. The more you wiggle, the more I’ll delay handing over your share of the bounty.”

Am I that transparent?

“Besides,” Kesa said, a corner of her mouth turning up, “we’re waiting on Imsiikila.”

On the other side of her, Inleio chuckled.

I felt restless just standing there, but my offer of help was firmly refused. The hunters told me that recovering after a big hunt was almost as important as the preparations leading up to it.

About twenty minutes later Uncle Kila finally arrived. I’d been listening for his voice and heard him greeting Mumu inside.

“Imsiikila—”

“—is here. Yes, I hear him too, Little Eight.” Kesa shook her head, but she said, “Let’s go.”

I practically dashed inside to greet Uncle Kila. I wasn’t alone either. There weren’t many hunters at the lodge that day—most were out in the forest hunting for the feast—but those that were, gathered around.

Uncle Kila was in a jolly mood. He had a big smile on his face, and his shoulders shook when he laughed. His mood was infectious. The hunters smiled with him, and their eyes were eager. It was a good sign when the merchant representing your wares was in a happy mood.

Kila gave me a wink, then told the hunters to sit and make themselves comfortable. He cleared his throat and said, “Now, I know you’re all in a hurry to hear what I have to say, so I won’t make a speech of it.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and read aloud the amounts and weights of various bear parts, along with their estimated value.

Not many of the hunters could add without using their fingers or tokens, but they didn’t need to. The list was long, and the size of the numbers big enough that they knew the total would be impressive. It didn’t even include the value of the golden slumber—that would be determined separately in negotiations with the Alchemist’s Lodge.

“And,” Uncle Kila said, “because Banan and Kuros ran from the hunt, the Albei team’s share will be reduced. The same is true for their sponsor, Ghitha. The forfeited shares will be split between the hunters who continued to fight. Also, the teams who fought the bear directly will be given a double share.”

Every hunter who had participated in the hunt was already guaranteed a small gold coin from Ghitha’s pocket, and now there was this good fortune too? The hunters were all smiles.

No wonder Ghitha was panicked-angry-desperate. He’d counted on the eilesheile to fund the hunt, but in the unlikely event that he couldn’t find their cave, his sponsor’s share of the bear’s parts was needed to make up the difference. Now that his share was reduced though, his remaining wealth would be completely wiped out. Banan’s team had sucked him dry.

“That’s amazing, Little Pot!” Mumu jostled me from my thoughts. “Five antaak, you earned five!”

What? Five?

Yuki filled in the part I’d missed while distracted by my thoughts. Half a gold coin for participating in the hunt. Another half for its success. Two gold for the sale of parts—that’s a double share—and another two for landing the killing strike. That’s five.

Oh, that’s good. Very good. Well, it wasn’t like I lacked for money, but this influx meant I could buy the bear’s core as I’d intended. It wasn’t cheap either. During his recitation, Uncle Kila had told the hunters it was worth ten gold coins.

I’d have to dip into the money I had reserved for taxes, and also borrow an antaak from Mumu, but I was sure she’d be willing. I’d easily be able to pay her back from my share of the golden slumber sale when it came in, plus the profits from when I started trading eilesheile in earnest.

I caught Uncle Kila’s eye, and he nodded. He tilted his head and directed my attention to a young man who looked like a smaller, thinner version of him holding a strongbox. I gestured to the ritual room, and Uncle Kila nodded again.

Uncle Kila brought the strongbox and Mumu along with him. She seemed almost as excited as I was—and for good reason: the core inside the strongbox was enormous, the size of an American football.

The core’s surface shone in the fire’s light, dark with ribbons of silver gleaming. It was heavy too, but with a weight that wasn’t entirely physical. The core drew the eye and made it hard to look away.

The darklight had been treated to preserve it, but I smashed the core open and let the darklight dissipate. I heard pained gasps from both Kila and Mumu, but I knew that I didn’t want to participate in the darklight trade. There was too much potential for suffering.

Mumu’s disappointment must not have lasted long. “I’ve never seen so much silverlight in one place before,” she whispered.

There were chunks bigger than my fingers. I picked one up and asked Yuki, You ready?

Whenever you are, they said.

The silverlight wouldn’t affect my qi directly, but we hoped the bear’s experiences would inform our attempts in mastering lightning qi. Yuki and I were of like mind: both of us would be paying exquisite attention to what came next.

I intended to absorb the pieces one at a time, but all the silverlight melted at once. A flash of frigid cold entered my hands and flowed into my arms and chest. An enormous, overwhelming pressure descended upon my heart; it felt like an attempt to displace me from my body.

I let slip a barking kind of laughter, then watched with amusement as the feeling of domination crashed against me. My sense of self was immovable and inviolate; the tide of leftover soul scum couldn’t harm me, especially when I also had Yuki to watch over and protect me.

The silverlight’s wake left images of the forest, of trampling its inhabitants and taking their land. There was fire in the sky and a matching fire within, the two in harmony. The feeling of power, of it filling my body to the brim, was immense.

The experience lasted a full two minutes, with alternating waves of cold and fire running through me. I shook from the intensity, and it culminated in a memory. It was one I shared with the kalihchi bear: the leap from the top of the escarpment.

The two memories ran in parallel. From the bear’s perspective, he exalted as he subsumed himself in the lightning storm. From mine, I sat in the Lion’s Cave while the bear amidst the lightning burned itself into my vision.

The bear had made a breakthrough that day, and it now spilled over into me and Yuki. Three different notifications popped up:

1575 silverlight gathered. 1418 absorbed.

Congratulations. You have collected enough silverlight to grow in power

Nicely done. :-)

My breath steamed as I sighed. I felt stronger, and the energy inside me was electric.

Yuki?

Instead of answering, they laughed—not quite maniacally, but damn close—and pulled lightning qi into my meridians. Then I started laughing too. The energy spun through me in cycles almost too fast for me to grasp.

Yuki snapped Dog’s Agility instantly into place for me. A moment later, they dropped the spell and replaced it with Camouflage and Scentless Hunter just as quickly. I let go of the spells, and tried them myself. The casts weren’t as snappy as Yuki’s, but the time to spin them up was barely noticeable. Then, I sped my qi through my meridians. I could feel it recovering from the earlier spells.

It’s fast. So fast!

Yuki didn’t respond. Instead, they spiraled in my heart dantian, dancing and shimmering, in delirious happiness. All the hard work had paid off. The two of us had learned how to transform and manipulate lightning qi.

“Eight, is everything all right?” Mumu asked, her expression concerned.

“Never better,” I said. “I reached Level 4.”

“Gods of the earth,” Kila said.

“Oh, that’s incredible,” Mumu said in excitement. “Congratulations! You must be the youngest Level 4 this village has ever seen. Do you feel any changes?”

“Let me check,” I said.

Nicely done. :-)

Well, you did it. That bear bastard won’t be bothering Ikfael anymore. Good job. I don’t have much to say beyond that, which is just as well—the closer you get to Level 5, the less room there is for poor little System-Eight.

Don’t feel bad for me, though. It was a good run. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and that’ll be enough for me. Oh, and remember me every once in a while.

Well, I’m you, so that might be kind of weird, but you know what I mean.

I had known System-Eight’s time was limited, but his departure still caught me by surprise. I felt a sense of loss amid the elation. Having access to him and his insights had helped me stay sane and navigate through some critical decisions early on. Yes, he was a weird amalgamation of my sub and super consciousnesses, but I’d miss him anyway.

Thank you, I thought.

There wasn’t a response, but I’d expected that. So, I took a breath, then let myself get excited for what came next. That’d be the best way to honor System-Eight and all he’d done for me.

Congratulations. You’ve collected enough silverlight to grow in power.

You’re now Level 4. You receive a free attribute point. Checking for new talents. *Ding* Your hard work has successfully triggered a nascent talent.

Attribute and skill gains have been finalized. Thank you for your hard work.

- Agility has increased from 9 to (10).

- Spirit has increased from 15 to (16).

- Strength has increased from 8 to 9.

- Archery has increased from 9 to 10.

- Diaksh has increased from 7 to 8.

- Earth Magic has increased from 1 to 3.

- Knife Arts has increased from 3 to 4.

- Marksmanship has increased from 6 to 7.

- Qi Body has increased from 9 to 10.

- Qi Body Arts has increased from 6 to 7.

- Signed Diaksh has increased from 6 to 8.

- Spear Arts has increased from 6 to 7.

- Spirit Arts has increased from 6 to 7.

- Stealth has increased from 8 to 9.

- Survival, Forest has increased from 9 to 10.

The base benefits for Level 4 Young Forester are active.

Attribute foci:

- Agility, primary
- Wisdom, secondary
- Spirit, tertiary

- Skill foci:

- Archery
- Spear Arts
- Survival, all
- Nature Magic
- Stealth

Your capacity for silverlight has grown. Secondary attributes increase by another 20%. The total bonus is now 60%.

- Body power has increased from 13 to 15.

- Qi has increased 35 to 50.

- Mana has increased 21 to 24.

I couldn’t help giggling. It was just so satisfying to see the sweat, the blood, and the sheer effort poured into training paying off. The feeling was better than any Vegas jackpot.

Wait, my qi maximum jumped from 35 to 50. That’s a bigger increase than expected. I brought up my Status to take a look.

The first thing I noticed was that—with 3,149 silverlight—I was now a decent chunk into fourth level now. Level 5 still felt far away, though. I’d need another 3,601 silverlight, which was like almost 400 bishkawi. Or two more dusk kalihchi bears.

What a terrible thought. Hmm… there it is: a qi capacity of 50. But first, yes, it looks like Agility and Spirit are in the process of growing. It’ll only be a matter of time until they rank up, either from continued training or hitting Level 5. And the new talent…

Lightning Affinity

You were born under stormy skies and have an affinity for all things electric. Significantly increases the beneficial effects of electricity-based spells, while also reducing their negative effects. You receive a small bonus to Aeromancy and Geomancy skills. Opens the path to Lightning-Touched.

Yes! Victory! I pumped my hands in the air. I surprised Mumu and Uncle Kila, but I couldn’t help myself. The new talent wasn’t as good as jumping to Lightning-Touched directly, but I was still over-the-moon happy.

“Eight?” Mumu asked. “Good news?”

“You could say that. Here, take a look.”

I summoned the rune for Spark and let the electricity buzz and crackle in my hand. It felt like I was holding a livewire. Then the air banged and light flashed as I sent the Spark from one hand to the other. Goosepimples rose all over my body.

The streamer sucked mana like a pig, but I maintained the flow of electricity between my hands. From the way the mana drained into the spell, it felt like four points for the original cast and… maybe… a point per second after that?

Whatever the cost, though, it was worth it. The streamer wasn’t anemic like before; now it was a thick, glowing tube of skyfire. I barely noticed Uncle Kila backing away.

“Is that…?” Mumu asked, her eyes wide.

“A new talent is affecting my Spark spell, yes.”

“By the gods, that makes six. Six talents!” Mumu whooped.

I whooped with her, and silently took pride in the fact that I actually had eight talents. The two of us laughed, drunk on joy. Even Uncle Kila’s eyes sparkled, pleased for me.

Eventually, though, we had to calm down. There were more gains to explore.

“Anything else?” Mumu asked with a wide smile.

“A gain in Strength. A good number of skill increases. And—”

Earlier, I’d figured out that the qi maximum was based on an average of Constitution and Spirit. There was a 20% increase at Levels 2, 3, and 4, plus a massive 100% increase when Yuki and I had refined my qi. That meant my new maximum should be 42. Unless—

The flavor of your qi is changing-condensing-thickening, but not slowing down at all. If anything, it’s getting faster. The meridians are heating up, so we’re draining the excess until they can adapt. Oh gods, it’s so delicious.

Waves of pleasure radiated from Yuki. They were in heaven.

“And?” Mumu asked after being left hanging.

“The well of my qi has deepened. Significantly.”

“Can you sense by how much?” Mumu asked.

If I was doing my math right, it looked like a 50% increase on top of the previous bonuses. “I should have enough to be able to cast Spiral Pierce twelve or so times in a row.”

The recovery rate has improved too, but we’ll have to test to figure out by how much. Oh! The changes seem to be affecting your mana recovery too—the qi is dragging your mana along.

Mumu shook her head in disbelief. “I’m so envious. Any hunter would be.”

“Your village grows stronger,” Uncle Kila said.

Mumu’s smile faltered. She glanced up, as if trying to see through the ceiling to the hunters working on the kalihchi bear’s hide. “We have to, always and constantly.” She looked back at me, and her smile returned. There was light in it, yet it was tempered by sadness. “And we will, all of us, grow stronger.”

48

A Complicated Family

The next morning, rain poured down in wavy sheets. I could barely see the neighbor’s longhouse from Bihei’s door. The path in between was a muddy mess too. No lightning or thunder though, which was a shame.

A couple of the hardier farmers went to keep an eye on the village’s fields to make sure they didn’t flood, but everyone else stayed indoors. That included the hunters. They’d already brought back something that looked like a giant shrew. Most shrews were small—tiny, even—but this one was the size of a van and had a ten-foot-long tail to boot.

Bihei and the kids used the time for chores. They burned red cedar to drive out any bugs in the longhouse, cleaned the animal pen, and mended their clothes. All the while, they kept an eye on the rain outside.

The bad weather broke around two in the afternoon, and all at once the village moved into high gear as families began preparations for the feast. In our house, Bihei instructed Aluali to kill a chicken and prepare it for the cookpot. Billisha’s job was to collect herbs and vegetables from the muddy garden. Bihei herself supervised and worked with the ingredients as they came to her.

As for me, I sat on the bed and watched it all happen. All three gave me the stink eye whenever I tried to help. None believed I was completely fit, even though I had assured them the twinges were gone. Sure, I still felt a little worn, but not enough to sit idle while they worked.

I wondered if the other hunters were in the same position. The feast was to celebrate their success, after all.

The only point of reference I had was Ghitha, and he sat alone in his house with the shutters closed and no fire in the hearth. He’d been stewing all night long in a turbid, roiling mass of his thoughts. There’d be no celebratory dish from him that night.

What was really troubling were his thoughts. He imagined himself disrupting the feast and calling out Inleio for ruining his family; kidnapping me and forcing me to reveal the location of the Red Room; and if that last didn’t work, then going after Billisha and Aluali. They were fantasies—not yet approaching the realm of intention and planning—but Yuki and I kept close tabs on him. The moment he moved into action, he’d be dead.

Being idle wasn’t all bad, as it let me do important inner work. Yuki was right about my meridians not being able to handle the new state of my qi. They needed tempering in order to withstand the speed and intensity.

Fortunately, Qi Body-Sensei was available to provide a hint. The skill had reached a high-enough level that my intuition about how to improve felt sharper. Yuki took that intuition and, along with their own insights into the nature of qi, developed a plan to condition my meridians: we’d alternate between fast and slow qi cycles.

During the fast cycle, we reined in my qi only as much as was absolutely necessary to keep from permanently damaging my meridians. Once we felt they’d had enough, we forcefully applied the brakes and gave them time to heal and grow accustomed to the strain.

Honestly, the concept wasn’t groundbreaking. It could be found everywhere in nature—just look at how muscles built over time—but that ubiquity was what comforted me. It made me think we were on the right track. Plus, it didn’t hurt that Qi Body-Sensei approved. The feeling was similar to holding the spear and drawing the bow, except this time it was… preparing the ground.

That felt right, and I shared the insight with Yuki.

The feast began with a story. As the new lodge master, Mumu was supposed to tell it, but she handed the honor to Inleio.

A baby cried but was quickly comforted. People’s clothing rustled as they shifted positions, and I heard the fires pop and crackle. Otherwise, though, the villagers were silent as he stood before them. They prepared to listen with rapt attention.

Standing with a cane, hunched over and his face a mass of wrinkles, Inleio seemed to reach deep within himself. And when he spoke and began the tale, he sounded almost like his old self.

Inleio started with the previous failed hunts—of the lodge brothers and sisters who had given their lives and those that had suffered permanent injury. He wove in the deaths of Woldec and Grunthen, as well as their expedition’s aftermath.

Ghitha, as the hunt’s sponsor, was given due honor, but the man himself wasn’t in attendance. He was still at home stewing in an increasingly dangerous blend of desires and delusions.

Inleio moved on to the hunt’s preparations—the hunters from Albei, the ballistae crews, and the village hunter teams who’d scouted the land. He even mentioned the knowledge I’d shared about lightning and how useful it proved to be, and gave credit to the smiths for producing so much wire.

And then there was the battle itself: the terrible lightning and the sharp claws, the death of Otwei, and surprising ferocity of Borba. How the ballistae crews had run away, followed not long after by some of the Albei hunters.

Finally, there was me, who had lured the bear to a meadow of golden slumber. Using Bearbane—a treasure nourished by the village, given over to Ikfael, and returned for this purpose—I had slain the bear.

When Inleio finished the story, the villagers put their hands over their hearts and bowed toward the hunters. Some of the hunters blushed and others grinned widely, but not any of the fighters who’d fought the bear up close. They were more sober, knowing just how close we had come to failing.

That solemnity disappeared the moment someone tapped a cask of corn liquor. The plaza in front of the pyramid came alive with people talking, singing, and dancing. The villagers circulated, and the food shared.

Billisha and Aluali’s eyes sparkled at all the excitement. They stuffed themselves, and for good reason: everything was delicious. Bihei’s chicken stew with herbed corn dumplings was warming. The roast shrew wasn’t bad either. Mumu came over with a fatty cut of the shoulder for me.

“It’s the best part,” she said, sitting down with me and my family. From her expression, I could tell that she enjoyed Bihei’s stew too and wanted seconds, but instead she pulled me up to follow her in making the rounds.

I was no stranger to networking in my previous life, so I followed along. We made small talk and accepted the villagers’ well wishes. They congratulated Mumu on her new position, as well as her recent engagement into Haol and Dena’s marriage. Apparently, the three of them had reached an agreement while I was still recovering from my injuries.

The villagers also introduced me to any children they had that were my age. “Never too early to start thinking about a good match,” one old grandmother said.

I ignored Mumu’s snickers—I was not ready to think about marriage, thank you very much—and politely declined the invitations to tea. All the other invitations too. I planned to head back to the Glen soon. If not tomorrow, then the day after, depending on the weather.

We were just returning to my family’s spot at the party when I pulled Mumu aside. I used more force than was necessary, and my face felt stiff. We moved away from the party to a quieter, shadowed section of the plaza.

“Eight, is something wrong?”

I gestured for her to wait a bit.

Ghitha found a set of Woldec’s knives, Yuki said.

Show me, I said, merging our consciousnesses.

We shifted our attention to the portion of us still inside Ghitha.

To be sure, to be absolutely sure, it had to be the children. Eight obviously doted on them, letting them run around as they wished. Ghitha had seen them scampering through the village like animals. Supposedly they helped that widow Bihei in the fields, but farming was the lowest kind of work. They may as well be animals.

The plan was simple: Ghitha would use the skills he’d learned from his brother to hide inside Bihei’s longhouse. He’d grab the children and use them against Eight, questioning him about the location of the eilesheile. His trader contacts in Albei had let him know that a new source had been found—a plentiful source.

Acid washed through Ghitha’s stomach, and it cramped at the thought of all of Woldec’s hard work stolen. Ghitha might have to cut one of the children to demonstrate his intention, his wrath, his bloody desire for revenge. He might even kill one, so that Eight realized the seriousness of the situation.

Ghitha refused to be made poor. He would never allow himself to become powerless. Ghitha’s family was the bedrock upon which the village was built. To be driven to such a state as he was in, it must be a conspiracy!

Inleio and the Hunter’s Lodge had always resented his family. Hated them. Hated Ghitha, and wanted to see him fall. Oh, how they would laugh to see him forced to do fieldwork.

Ghitha wouldn’t let it happen. He may be a stump, but he wouldn’t be responsible for his family’s downfall. Reversing his fortunes needed money, though. And besides, Eight was an outsider. Nothing more than a useful tool in the hands of Inleio and the rest. No one in the village would care if something happened to the boy—no one who mattered, anyway.

No doubt Inleio and the rest were grooming the boy for some other scheme. Building up his story for some purpose.

Eight was clever. That was all. There was no way he could do what they said of him.

Ghitha was more clever. He’d take the children, kill one to demonstrate his resolve, and break Eight. Break Inleio’s tool. Find the eilesheile and return his family to glory.

Clothes—he needed dark clothes if he was going to hide inside the longhouse. All the villagers were at the feast—he would go unnoticed when he snuck there—but he’d be careful anyway. Woldec had drilled that into him. Take all the steps. Be sure. And Ghitha was very sure.

We separated our consciousnesses, and I gagged, the food I’d eaten nearly coming up.

“Eight, what’s wrong?” Mumu asked, concerned.

I felt nauseous, and shuddered at the twisted nature of Ghitha’s thoughts. The man was sick.

“It’s Ghitha,” I said. “He plans to hurt my children in order to get me to reveal the location of the eilesheile.”

Mumu’s expression turned stony. “He’d strike at your family?”

I had hoped that his fantasies would remain fantasies—that he’d eventually settle down and come to terms with his losses—but instead he’d gone the other direction. My dismay gave way to anger. It’d been smoldering for a while, but at that moment it broke loose.

Yuki. The failsafes are ready?

Yes.

Okay. Then do it. Cut him down.

No.

Eh? What? Surprised, I turned my attention inward.

Yuki slowly revolved inside my heart dantian. Their energy was somber and… determined. You’re angry, and so are we. But to strike in anger is not who you are, and it is not who we aspire to be.

“But he plans to hurt Billisha and Aluali. We have to stop him.”

And we will. Yuki directed my attention to Mumu standing beside me. Mumu, who was the new lodge master.

I closed my eyes and took a breath. When that didn’t abate my anger, I counted my breaths until I could think straight.

“Mumu,” I said.

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“Ghitha is—”

He found a dark cloak and is heading out now.

“Ghitha is on his way to Bihei’s longhouse,” I said. “He plans to hide inside and wait for my family to come home.”

“What will you do?” Mumu asked, watching me carefully.

“I’d like to ask you that question,” I said.

Mumu sighed like she’d been holding her breath. She patted me on the arm and said, “Don’t worry. The Hunter’s Lodge takes care of its own.”

She stepped out into the light and waved over a couple of members of Borba’s former team. I couldn’t hear what she whispered to them, but she sent them off in the direction of Bihei’s longhouse.

Mumu smiled grimly on her return. “A man caught hiding in another’s longhouse is a good-enough excuse for truth-telling tea. We’ll have a way now to force him to drink it.”

“You couldn’t before because he wasn’t a member of the lodge?”

Mumu nodded. “That, and he still has support among some of the villagers. He won’t be able to avoid it now, though. The whole village will learn of Bindeise’s murder.”

“So, we wait?”

Mumu shook her head, and her smile became more natural. “We enjoy the celebration. It’s well earned.”

I returned to my family’s spot, while Mumu went to tell Inleio and Kesa about what was happening. I watched as ripples moved through the crowd. Nothing big, nothing obvious, but they were there if one was looking. The news spread steadily but quietly among the hunters.

Inleio’s gaze in particular—oh, how it sharpened.

It was summer, and there was so much work to do in the fields. Many of the families weren’t able to attend the feast for as long as they’d like. They stuffed their bellies, drank the liquor, and went home to prepare for the next day.

I held my family back until we were nearly the last in attendance. Poor Billisha and Aluali were conked out, leaning against each other. Bihei watched over them, and nervously glanced towards me. I didn’t think it was lost on her that the only people remaining were a handful of hunters, and none of them were singing or dancing.

Ben appeared at the edge of the fire’s light and came jogging over to where Mumu, Kesa, and Inleio still sat. I already knew what he was going to say, but I made my way over to eavesdrop anyway.

“—the fool dropped on our hunters as soon as they entered the longhouse. He’d hidden himself above the door and must’ve thought the children would enter first. Or Eight, and he wanted the first strike. There’s no way to know,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Ghitha is dead, stabbed twice over.”

“Were our hunters injured?” Mumu asked.

Ben frowned. “Nothing serious. They said it was because Ghitha seemed to have a problem with his heart the moment he fell on them. It was instinct that spurred both to give killing blows.”

“I can help with healing the hunters,” I said.

Ben waved me off. “Thank you, but the wounds were minor. Care has already been arranged.”

“Still, I’d like to do something,” I said. “They were injured on behalf of my family.”

“A gift wouldn’t be out of order,” Kesa said. “Make a visit to the lodge tomorrow. Tonight, they should rest. As should your family, Eight. Take them home and reassure them that they’re safe. The lodge will watch over them.”

“And what about you all?” I asked.

Kesa sighed. “We must report these events to Koda and Dwilla.”

Inleio stood with a groan, then shook his head. “What an ignoble death and waste of talent.”

“That’s it, then?” I asked. “We’re done?”

Mumu patted me on the shoulder. “We know enough about Ghitha to tell the tale. As for your friend, Yuki, we’ll keep them hidden. It’ll be truth enough to say that a hunter spotted Ghitha on his way to Bihei’s longhouse and grew suspicious of his plans.” She gave me a nod. “Now, off you go. Your family is waiting.”

I looked over at Billisha and Aluali, awake now. Along with Bihei, they were watching the huddle of hunters.

Before I left though, I turned to face the hunters and placed my hands over my heart to bow. “Thank you. For everything.”

I helped gather our things and carried the now-empty cookpot. The children and Bihei didn’t ask any questions, though I could tell they wanted to.

“When we get home,” I said.

It was louder than usual as we walked through the village—no doubt a result of all the corn liquor drunk at the celebration. We heard mostly laughter, although at one point there was the sound of crockery shattering and some poor villager getting yelled at soon after. I thought the kids might say something or share some gossip then, but they seemed to be focused on getting home.

When we got to the longhouse, we found a hunter waiting at the gate. He said, “All’s clear,” then gave us a nod and walked off, likely to find his own bed.

The family still didn’t ask any questions. They waited patiently until we were settled inside before turning their expectant gazes my way. So, I told them the whole story. Three pairs of eyes grew cloudy as they considered the evening’s events, as they thought about everything that had happened around the hunt.

Bihei was the most stunned. Ghitha’s family was influential in the village. Or they used to be. As for the kids, they were more ambivalent. I could do no wrong in their eyes.

“What will I tell the neighbors?” Bihei asked.

“Tell them that you know only what the Hunter’s Lodge told you: that hunters saw Ghitha sneaking towards our longhouse and investigated. Push everyone and everything at the lodge. They promised to keep you safe.”

“And what of you, Zasha? Will the lodge keep you safe?” Aluali’s eyes were wide. The fear was visible in them.

I smiled. “They already have, haven’t they?”

It took a while for him to acknowledge my words. I could tell he didn’t fully agree, but he eventually nodded.

“A lodge is like a second family,” Billisha said. Whether it was to comfort Aluali or herself, I wasn’t sure. Probably both.

That night, the two of them glommed onto me as they slept. I pretended not to notice when Bihei joined us, as well. It was becoming a habit, but I didn’t mind. Their warmth was welcome, even on a summer night.

A stabbing pain in my side woke me in the middle of the night. Ghitha’s ghost stood above the bed with a knife in his hand and madness in his eyes. His whole face was distorted in rage, and his mouth yelled silent words. He stabbed at me again and again, and I actually felt the pinpricks.

Tenna’s Gift was still thin, but the shield had finished healing. It was whole once more.

I watched Ghitha with narrowed eyes, but his attacks weren’t affecting the shield. He’s nothing more than a pest now. Better take care of him before he grows into something worse.

I gathered my will and exerted it upon Ghitha’s ghost. Tenna’s Gift thinned even more, but no new holes appeared, so I strengthened my efforts until I felt a solid grip on him.

The surprise on Ghitha’s face was so gratifying. He tried to resist—clutching at my arms—but he was new to being dead and had been surprisingly weak-willed to begin with. Nothing could stop his streaming out of the world, like smoke siphoned away, until there were only a pair of red eyes remaining, and then they too were gone.

“Good riddance,” I said, whispering.

That was when I saw Bindeise at the door. The look on his face was complicated, equal parts satisfied and lost. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then turned as if he heard someone or something behind him.

Briefly, I caught sight of the other side. I wasn’t sure exactly who or what it was there—only a sense of gladness and reunion. Then, Bindeise began to fade, but before he was gone completely, he turned to me to bow. There was a smile on his face. And relief.

I checked my arms, and while they tingled, I didn’t sense any injuries. A couple of the village’s ghost dogs came by to check out the excitement, but nothing else happened. My family was still sleeping soundly.

I wished Bindeise well in his next life and, satisfied, turned over to go back to sleep.

The next morning, the village was abuzz with gossip. Poor Bihei was nearly pestered to death by the people stopping by for a friendly chat—and, of course, they were naturally curious about the sensational events of the evening prior.

As for me, I skipped the fuss by merging with the land and heading straight to the Hunter’s Lodge. That was the plan anyway, except I’d forgotten that the hunters liked to gossip too.

The problem with having a reputation for being clever was that people expected me to be clever, which was why the hunters pounced when I arrived at the lodge. They wanted my thoughts on Ghitha’s motivations for targeting my family. They wondered at what he had to gain.

Well, it was no secret that Ghitha had followed up on his brother’s expedition and had turned up nothing for his trouble. “That must’ve made him desperate,” I said, “and desperate people do things they might not have done otherwise. Maybe he was after Bindeise’s treasure, for example.”

A few of the hunters nodded, but most didn’t want to stop speculating on Ghitha’s reasons. I deflected as much as possible and did my best to turn their attention to the hunters who had stabbed Ghitha. I also made arrangements through the lodge to gift the two a bounty—five eltaak each.

I didn’t have the money, and had to rely on Mumu again for a loan, but it had to be done. I paid my debts, including those of gratitude.

The hunters nodded in approval at my gifts. More than one said, “A good deed deserves a good reward.” And when the speculations about Ghitha’s motives resumed, I excused myself and got out of there.

The excitement would eventually die down, but until then I decided it’d be a good idea to spend some time with Ikfael.

I told my family my plans that night, but it caused a family quarrel. The kids refused to remain behind, as apparently I wasn’t sensible enough on my own. When I forbade them from coming along, the little devils threatened to follow me.

I looked to Bihei for support, but she folded her arms across her chest and said, “I’m going with them.”

“If you won’t take us to the Glen,” Billisha said, adamant, “then we’ll just hire a hunter who will.”

“Who’d dare?” I demanded.

The kids had riled me up good and proper by then, and I was starting to say things I didn’t mean. Still, the other hunters respected me—surely none of them would betray me by taking my family to a place I didn’t want them going.

That was when Mumu showed up. From the other side of the front door she said, “I would.”

I grumbled as we walked to the Glen, but my bad humor didn’t run deep. It couldn’t. Not with how excited the kids were—so happy and smug. All because a certain hunter wanted to watch another movie. I glanced over at Mumu, and her grin was as wide as the kids’.

Really, there was no reason to be in a funk. We’d reached a good compromise—the kids and Bihei would stay at the Glen for one week out of every five. And though it wasn’t a great time for the three of them to be away from Bihei’s fields, Mumu was quick to fork over another loan to pay for temporary labor. All so she could watch another movie.

Something else to consider was that I was stronger now and better able to protect the kids. The more dangerous animals in the forest would likely be preoccupied with their turf battles. The throne for King of the Forest was empty, after all, and as long as my family stuck to the Glen, they should be safe under my, Yuki’s, Snow’s, and Ikfael’s watch. They had a whole host of guardians now.

That’s what I told myself, anyway.

Billisha signaled a desire to detour to the site of the kalihchi bear’s hunt, but that was where I put my foot down. There was no way I was taking the kids to see that broken place. It’d give them nightmares, and they’d never let me go hunting again.

I ignored her disappointed pleading and thought instead about what to make for dinner. I owed Ikfael big for the loan of Bearbane—for sure more than the single fish we’d agreed upon—as well as rent for one more person.

Bihei seemed to be managing the hike okay. It was clear she hadn’t spent a lot of time in the forest—probably only what was required for the village militia. Still, her eyes never left the trees and shrubs, and though her trail discipline wasn’t great, she did her best.

Hmm… there should be some venison backstrap left, assuming Ikfael hasn’t already eaten it. We might as well splurge on the good stuff tonight.

Ikfael rolled her eyes when she saw our troop entering the Glen. Poor Mumu was confused at the sight of the otter waiting for us, and even more so when the otter started signing in Diaksh.

“Are you like an insect?” Ikfael asked. “Always multiplying.”

I grinned and handed her Bearbane. “Thank you. The spear saved my life. Saved the village, really.”

Ikfael’s glare softened. She looked me up and down. “And you are uninjured?”

“A scar on my belly, but that’s all.”

“You are alive and walking. That’s more than I expected.” Ikfael’s gaze sharpened. “So why did it take you so long to come back. I miss—my spear is long overdue.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Some things happened. Can I tell you about it as I make dinner?”

“Yes,” Ikfael said. “Dinner would be good.”

“Great, but before then, let me introduce Bihei. And Mumu over there you already know.”

“Eight,” Mumu said. “What’s going on?”

Ah, right. Ikfael had always used her giant otter water form when meeting the villagers before.

“This is Ikfael,” I said. “My friend, and ah… the spirit of this place.”

Mumu and Bihei immediately went to kneel, but Ikfael tsked at them and bid them to stand. “No time for that,” she signed. “There’s dinner to be made.”

“Actually,” I said, “there’s one more set of introductions to make.”

At Yuki’s signal, Snow escorted her kittens out from the cave and into the open. All the humans gasped, and my grin spread. It was just too fun surprising my friends and family, and a bit of mischief in return for forcing me to bring them along was allowed.

Ikfael had left the backstrap alone, so I sprinkled it with salt before grilling it. I also made a mash of fava beans and corn we’d brought from the village, as well as savory-sweet plum jam to go with the meat.

I talked to Ikfael as I worked, and she began sketching out the story. She knew most of the players from their visit to the Glen. Only Borba was unfamiliar to her.

Needless to say, Mumu and Bihei were mesmerized by Ikfael’s water creations. The kids, rolling around with Felix and Oscar, stopped their play long enough to brag about the number of shows they’d seen, and explained how she was the best storyteller ever.

My heart warmed, and the last bit of grumpiness left me. I knew that coming back to the Glen with the kids was the right decision. It wasn’t good to always leave them behind, either for them or for me.

We were an irregular family—a complicated family when taking Yuki, Ikfael, and Snow into account—and I needed to keep them close if we were to stay family. No matter what else happened in the world, I’d always be able to return to them, but only so long as I—as we—put in the work to keep our family whole.

It was these small decisions, I thought, that mattered most. They kept us human. The world wouldn’t be saved in some final battle between good and evil. It was done through the actions along the way. The little pluses and minuses that either took us toward the path of our best selves or led us astray. The world was saved in the middle of the book, not at the end.

The food was ready, the story told, and so we ate.

49

Perspective: Inneioleia

Inneioleia gazed down at his one good hand, which wasn’t so good anymore. Even though the skin was slack and wrinkled, the muscles underneath were taut—too much so to grip the clay mug easily.

He’d unstrapped his wooden hand and set it aside for now. The collar for the damn thing squelched on hot, humid days. It, and the cane to which it was now attached, stood propped up in the corner of Ghitha’s stable.

The smell of hay and horses filled Inneioleia’s nose. The heat made the stink of piss and defecation especially strong. Not that there were any animals left. They’d all been sold to pay Ghitha’s debts. The only things left in the stable were the mice and Borba. The hunter sat opposite Inneioleia, with a set of iron bars forged by the village’s smiths in between them.

Inneioleia drank water from the mug and placed it just outside the bars so that Borba could drink too. The former lodge master kept his distance, though, making sure to stay out of Borba’s reach.

Borba’s nails had grown as thick and dark as claws, and reddish scales grew along the backs of his hands and arms. His eyes were crazed, except there were flashes—moments when Inneioleia recognized the hunter who had once lived in that body before the rage had consumed him.

“Free me,” Borba said, his voice croaking. “I did what you asked, now free me.”

“I can’t do that,” Inneioleia said. “You attacked two of your lodge brothers.”

“I remember no such thing,” Borba said, frowning. His expression darkened, and his visage grew twisted as the darklight’s rage filled him once again. His voice rasped when he yelled, “Free me!”

Borba launched himself at the bars, his gaunt arms reaching through. Inneioleia sat back, but the bars held. There was no way they wouldn’t; the man looked like he’d been starved. The energies he’d consumed from the King of the Forest were long gone.

Intelligence returned to Borba’s eyes, and he retreated. “Sorry, sorry. My control slipped.” He licked his lips. “At least feed me. I’m—I’m so hungry.”

“The lodge brings food every day.”

“Not that,” Borba said. “Real food, like the bear. He was so good. I want more. Let me—just let me hunt. I’ll kill the threats the forest sends at the village—I’ll rend and tear them apart, suck them dry. The village will be safer. Just let me eat my fill.”

With a groan and creaking joints, Inneioleia levered himself to standing. He retrieved his cane and re-strapped the wooden hand in place. His fingers moved with practice, though not ease. Nothing was easy anymore.

He left the stable; he left Borba’s pleading behind him. It wouldn’t do any good to answer. There wasn’t much good possible now that Borba had reached this state. He’d be kept alive, though, having proven how useful he could be during the kalihchi bear’s hunt. It was the lodge’s assessment that the hunt would’ve failed without him.

Borba’s punishment had triggered a powerful talent, an incredible blessing and curse: the ability to temporarily absorb a creature’s qi and a portion of their abilities, but to also always be hungry. Used correctly, Borba would be a powerful weapon for the village’s protection. He’d replace the loss left by Grunthen.

Gods curse them, but Woldec’s family had sown a bitter harvest for the village to reap. The loss of Woldec and Grunthen. The transformation of Borba into a monster. The push to hunt the King of the Forest, and all that it entailed.

Before the King’s hunt, Inneioleia had expected to live another twenty years—enough time to properly season Little Mumu. He had looked forward to seeing her travel the path of the hunter, to watching as she developed the skills necessary before taking on the lodge’s responsibilities. Now, Inneioleia needed to quickly push the wisdom and lore required onto her, for any day could be his last.

Kesa would help. She was a blessing with her wit, her ease with people, and her tempered caution. And there was Eight too, or was it more accurate to say Yuki?

Inneioleia traveled back to the moment when the uekisheile had revealed themselves—the surprise, the alarm, and the epiphany. Suddenly there was an explanation for how an eight-year-old boy’s eyes could look so old. It was the ancient creature within him peering out. Eight’s uncommon wisdom and his quick rise had finally been explained.

It was a mystery, though, how much of Eight was the boy and how much was Yuki. Inneioleia felt a pang. Something of the original boy must’ve been lost to make room for the uekisheile. Everything in the world had a price. A hunter only had to be willing to pay it.

Inneioleia nodded to himself. The lodge would find out eventually. As Eight and Yuki learned to trust them more, and as they bonded with their brothers and sisters, they would continue to open up about themselves. Mumu would be there to hear the stories they told, and Kesa too.

It helped that Ikfael approved of Eight and Yuki. She would not do the village wrong.

A hunter knew to be cautious, though, and even now Mumu went to visit Ikfael to see with the lodge’s own eyes the relationship between the boy and the spirit. It was her way to put Kesa at ease.

It was good the two of them were fulfilling their responsibilities.

There’d been death and tragedy, but also seeds planted for the future. There was so much potential in Mumu, Eight, and Yuki. Perhaps Inneioleia might allow himself a small measure of hope: that the lodge would prosper, that the village would thrive, and that he might die without regret’s bitter taste still in his mouth.

50

Perspective: Imsiikila

Imsiikila breathed a sigh of relief. He did so every time he returned to Albei and passed through its gate, every time he returned to civilization. The thick stone walls, the rowdy noises of hawkers and store clerks, the pyramid looming over the city—they signaled to him that he was home.

Not that he minded the villages nearby. The homespun people who inhabited them had their own rough charm. And some of them were capable, quite capable indeed. He turned to look at the four wagons following behind his. There was a fortune carried by them.

The soldiers guarding the wagons smiled at last. They felt the safety of Albei’s walls too.

Imsiikila touched his pendant to signal his family that he’d arrived. A return signal was received, and he turned in the direction to see… ah, it was the second nephew on his third grandfather’s side who’d come to greet them. The lad, Kuta, was only eight, but was old enough to have navigated the path between the western gate and family storehouse.

Wisdom said that children were born with their first talent, but families gave them their second. Meaning, the talent received upon reaching adulthood was founded upon the training and the work given to them by their families.

Little Kuta was coming along nicely in that regard; he was a diligent and clever boy. Perhaps not as prodigious as another, but Imsiikila knew that Eight must’ve paid a heavy price for the talents he’d been given by the World Spirit. A price that Imsiikila wouldn’t wish on any youngster.

There were families who pushed, of course, but balance was needed or else the talents grew twisted and ugly. That was Imsiikila’s family’s philosophy, and it had served them well for two hundred years.

Little Kuta ran up to Imsiikila’s wagon. “Uncle Kila, is everything well? Are all safe?”

“Yes, my dear nephew. All is well.” Imsiikila laughed as he spoke, and he surreptitiously signaled with his family’s hand talk that his words were true. “And the family—is everything well? Are all safe?”

Little Kuta climbed up onto his wagon like a monkey. “Business prospers, and the family is well.” In hand talk, he added: True, true.

Imsiikila ruffled the boy’s hair. “I’m delighted to hear it. And what news while I was away?”

“My mother gave birth. I have a little sister now.”

“And they’re both healthy?” Imsiikila asked.

Little Kuta, the scamp, rolled his eyes. “I said the family was well, didn’t I?”

“Of course,” Imsiikila said. “How could I have forgotten so quickly?” Perhaps the boy needed a touch more discipline after all…

“The healers refused to send someone to the house, but the alchemists provided a potion. My mother is in confinement now, but they brought out my sister to show the family. She is ugly and wrinkled, like a plum left in the sun.”

Alas, the news about the lodges didn’t surprise Imsiikila one bit. The healers weren’t happy with his family these days. The golden slumber wouldn’t help either—increasing the resources available to the alchemists—but what could he do? Profit was profit, and he’d follow its scent wherever it led.

“The two lodges fought too,” Little Kuta said, continuing. “Some of their apprentices drew knives against each other.”

“Again?” Imsiikila shook his head. “They don’t take their lives seriously enough. One day there’ll be a killing blow struck, and no amount of healing or potions will bring the victim back.”

The tension between the healers and the alchemists was becoming dangerous, but the City Head refused to intervene. There’d likely been a bribe involved, but the identity of the person doing the bribing was in question.

“First Grandmother and Grandfather are still in seclusion,” Little Kuta said.

“And the master of the Merchant’s Lodge?” Imsiikila asked. “The other merchant family heads?”

“The same—all still behind closed doors.”

Not long ago, the merchants with the highest ranks in Accounting had begun to hear whispers from deep within the World Spirit of new methods for keeping financial records. What they sensed was tantalizing enough to send them into closed-door meditation.

Interestingly enough, the Merchant’s Lodge hadn’t been the only one thrown into a furor. The healers, the alchemists, the builders, the soldiers, the philosophers, and even the chroniclers—they all sensed new concepts and practices within the World Spirit.

Had one of the empires breached a golden age? If so, none of their trading partners had said anything.

The already fierce competition between families and between lodges grew heated as they fought to be the first to understand the new ideas and put them into practice. There were advantages to being first, and Imsiikila paused to consider the concept he’d learned during his own meditations on the World Spirit: a secret that he kept from everyone, including his own family. First mover advantage.

Why else would he have offered such exceptional terms to young Eight? No one else had ever found a way to reliably farm eilesheile. Plus, the boy was destined to become a treasure trove of hard-to-find resources. Imsiikila’s nose told him so, and he would be there—first in line to procure them. He would build a reputation in Albei for being a source of rare goods.

The golden slumber was a perfect example. The alchemist summoned to Voorhei had nearly fainted when he saw it, his excitement palpable. Imsiikila was sure he had enough leverage now to re-negotiate more favorable terms with their lodge.

He grinned, and Little Kuta was clever enough to recognize what it meant.

“So the village’s hunt for the kalihchi bear went well?”

“Oh, you know how these things go. Only so-so,” Imsiikila said, but he signaled, Lie. Additional profit found.

Little Kuta nodded and touched his pendant. “First Father is expecting us. Hopefully, he won’t be disappointed.”

“We can only hope,” Imsiikila said, which was enough of a lie that it didn’t need clarifying. They could do much more than hope; the family would work and scheme until they found the success they deserved. The World Spirit demanded it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Samer Rabadi grew up devouring stories of science fiction and fantasy. Books have always been his second home, and he practically lived at the library as a kid. Being able to share his own writings with others is a dream come true.

Professionally, he’s had a checkered early career—working in an eclectic mix of industries—before settling down into nonprofit work and trying to make the world a better place. His interests include reading, of course, but also cooking, pottery, martial arts, archery, and tabletop and video games.

He lives in Northern California with his wife Mary and his dog Hank. His quest for the best falafel in the world is ongoing.

Connect with him online

Website: www.samerrabadi.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/3seed