by Terry Schott
Xander looked at Xyclotl, who shrugged. “Of course she can. It’s a real blade. More magical than anything you’ve most likely come across in your life, but a sword nonetheless.”
He handed Mercy the sword. “The balance is perfect.” Her smile widened. “It’s light as a feather, yet I can sense its strength and power.”
Xander looked down at his arm. The remaining midnight had resumed its natural swirling in patterns that travelled over his arm, but the lines were thinner than before. “Still quite a bit left.”
“I’d recommend using the rest of it for armour,” Xyclotl said.
Xander nodded and visualized a gauntlet. The midnight swirled and took the form of his imagination. A gauntlet of shiny blue-black metal covered his hands and forearms all the way up to the elbow. A long, curved blade extended past his elbow and backward a few inches, forming a spur-like knife for close-range combat.
“Nice touch, kid,” Xyclotl said. “You can adjust the pattern and other aspects as well.”
Xander made a fist and held the gauntlet up in front of his face. A thin, sharp blade began to extend from the middle knuckle. He smiled.
“Yeah.” The shard imp cackled and clapped his hands together. “You’re gonna make a nasty bugger with this gift, aren’t ya?”
Xander laughed. “Oh, yes. I think I am.”
Chapter 27
Bramell took a bite of toast and slathered more jam on the remaining bit. “You a crafter, then?”
Sebastian shrugged.
“Modest. That must mean you’re powerful.”
“Depends on the day.”
Bramell looked up from his toast and stared at Sebastian. “What’s the problem?”
“I say anything about a problem?”
“Your tone did.”
Sebastian breathed in and let it out slowly. “I’m hit-and-miss with my abilities.”
“That’s odd.”
“Yeah.”
Bramell pointed at his head with the knife. “Not getting along with the previous owner in that avatar of yours?”
“There isn’t a previous owner.”
“Huh? Of course there is.”
“Nope.”
“First time I’ve heard of that happening.” Bramell squinted and took another bite of toast. “Maybe that’s the problem. Perhaps the host disappeared and took all the ability with it. You got a lemon avatar.”
“Oh, I can cast.”
“Craft.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Craft, cast, magick, whatever you want to call it. I can throw spells from time to time. Not consistently, though.”
“Well, you have to let the mana rebuild.”
“It’s not that. Doesn’t matter how much time goes by. At any given moment I can either cast or I can’t. Mostly, I can’t. When I am able to tap into the talent, I don’t seem to run out of mana.”
“That’s handy. Must make you very powerful,” Bramell smiled, “when you can cast.”
“Which is not so often.”
“Once a week?”
“Twice.”
“Hey that’s better than once.”
“No, I mean I’ve only crafted twice. Since I got here.”
Bramell frowned. “Damn.”
Sebastian nodded and watched the coffee in his cup as he swirled it. “I guess that’s not totally accurate. When I first arrived, I was able to craft whenever I tried. But a short time after that, the talent disappeared entirely. I thought it was gone for good…” he shrugged.
“But it came back.”
“That’s right.” Sebastian recounted his battle with the Scouts inside the dungeon. As he finished the tale, Bramell stared at him with an open mouth and the toast held forgotten in his hand.
“Then it went away again.” Sebastian drained his mug and set it on the table. “I have no clue what makes it leave, or how to bring it back.”
“What did the masters of the council have to say about it?”
Sebastian did not reply.
“You haven’t reported in?”
“Didn’t see the point.”
“Are they after you, Sebastian?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
Bramell set the toast on his plate and rubbed his hands together to remove any crumbs. “I’d rather not face the magic council. We can, but I’d rather not.”
“You should be fine.”
“If you’re not positive, tell me now. I hate being caught with my pants down. Especially when magic is involved.”
Sebastian sighed. “Then prepare. We haven’t run into anyone claiming to be chasing us, but I can’t know with absolute certainty that we are safe.”
Bramell nodded. “Did you at least visit a Scout to find out what level you are?”
“I think it’s safe to assume I am not any level.”
“You have to be.”
“This avatar wasn’t a crafter before I jumped into it.”
“Is that so?”
“It was a village serf, as far as I can tell. People seemed extremely surprised when I stood up and left town.”
“Hmm. Perhaps that explains why there is no consciousness inside there with you.”
“Yeah, I think this was an empty vendor avatar.”
“Interesting.”
Sebastian stroked his beard. “Maybe you’re right about knowing what level I am. I must have a latent ability of some sort. I’ll visit your Scout and find out where I stand.”
Bramell scratched his chin.
“What’s the problem?”
“I say anything about a problem?”
Sebastian grinned. “Your expression did.”
“We do have a bit of a problem.”
“With?”
“Scouts. They aren’t exactly sympathetic to our cause at the moment.”
“Damn it. Of course.” Sebastian closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “You don’t have access to Scouts?”
“Which means none of us can level up.”
Chapter 28
Isaac stopped and knelt, dropping his handful of dead wood on the ground.
“I’ll take a couple of those, please.” Fen held a hand out and Isaac gave him two pieces of wood. Fen tucked one into the hot coals and then continued turning the rabbits on the spit.
Isaac wiped his hands on his pants and sat near the fire across from Jyachin. “What’s wrong?”
The apprentice pursed his lips. “It feels weird. You fetching the wood and doing chores like an apprentice while I sit here and do nothing.”
Isaac laughed. “It’s only fair, considering that at the moment you are the teacher and I’m the apprentice.”
“Still, it’s strange seeing my master doing the menial stuff. I know you’re not my master, but he’s in there still, right?”
Isaac nodded. “He is.”
“I imagine he is none too pleased.”
“That’s the general theme I get when I check in.” Isaac adjusted his position and leaned against his pack. “But there is some part of him that is amused by watching me play the role of apprentice.”
They sat quietly for a time.
“Your skills are progressing very quickly,” Jyachin said.
“Thank you.”
“Is it all that you hoped it’d be?” Fen asked. “The bard class?”
Isaac smiled. “Everything and more.”
“Any surprises?”
“Yes. I didn’t realize there was such a creative element to it all.”
Fen laughed. “It’s in the class title, man. Bard.”
“I suppose. Still, when we played back home that part was glossed right over. Here, though,” he shrugged, “it’s an excellent addition to the experience.”
“Creativity and raw musical talent are the two factors which ultimately determine how high one can rise in level as a bard. Most never go past level thirty, which is very mid-level for almost any other class. For bards, only a very few who possess true talent will climb higher.”
&n
bsp; “Maybe I’m not able to be subjective here,” Isaac said, “but I have a sense that your master was extremely talented.”
“He was.” Jyachin’s smile faded and he stared into the fire. “And he also wasn’t too pleased about settling down.”
“Then why did he?” Fen asked.
“I’m not sure. I think it had something to do with making his father happy. They came from a poor family. His father was proud of him, but also afraid that my master would die on an adventure somewhere before getting a chance to enjoy the fruits of all his labours.”
“That’s the way to go, if you ask me,” Fen said.
Jyachin smiled. “My master agreed with you, but he loved his dad and honoured his wishes. He stopped adventuring, found a beautiful wife, bought some land. He made the best of it…”
Isaac turned to look at the apprentice. “There’s part of the story that you’re leaving out.”
Jyachin nodded. “Before your arrival, we were preparing to set out once more.”
“For adventure?”
Jyachin nodded. “It was time for me to begin journeying. My master had found a party for me to join, but the condition of taking me was that he also go.”
“His wife couldn’t have been pleased by that.” Fen poked the meat on the spit and then continued turning it.
“She was ready for a break. My master’s frustration had become tiresome for all.”
“She mentioned anger,” Isaac said.
“Yes.” Jyachin nodded. “He would have been pleased to be out here under the stars again.”
“He is. Pleased, and here.”
When the rabbit was ready, Fen began carving portions. A crackling noise sounded from the bushes. They turned, reaching for their weapons.
“I mean no harm.” A young man stepped into the light, arms raised to show he was not reaching for a weapon. “I saw your fire, and wondered if I might join you. I have wine, cheese and bread to share, if you’re willing to spare a bit of that rabbit?”
Fen squinted and then smiled. “Aleron. You old dog. What are you doing out on your own?”
The elf frowned and took a step back.
The warrior laughed. “It’s me. Fen. Got myself a new body and returned.”
“Fen?” Aleron cocked his head. “Is it really you?”
“Course it is. Boy, do you look much better than last time I saw you inside Dryad’s Heart. Thought you were a goner for sure.”
“Dryad’s Heart?” Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You’re the player Scout?”
“That’s right.” Aleron’s frown returned. “And who are you?”
Fen sauntered close and put his arm around Aleron. “This is big cheese number one.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Or number two, if you’re talking to Seb.”
Aleron shook his head and then raised his eyebrows. “Isaac Chase?”
Fen nudged him and stepped back. “In the flesh. Sorta. You know what I mean.”
“What are you doing in here?” Aleron asked.
Sebastian opened his mouth, but Fen spoke. “Looking for Seb.”
“Ahh.”
“Don’t suppose you’ve seen him lately?”
Aleron laughed. “No, but I’d like to.”
“Hang with us, then.” Fen walked back to the fire and cut another portion of meat from the spit. “We’re bound to find him sooner or later.”
“I would, but I’m on my way to a specific destination.”
“Where’s that?” Fen asked.
“Darwin’s Vale.”
“What a coincidence.” Fen held the plate toward Aleron. “We’re headed there, too.”
Chapter 29
Lirana ran through the large double doors, twisting her way past the guards as they tried to block her entrance. “Custodian Zecaras?” She yelled.
“Here.”
The guards halted when they heard the Custodian acknowledge her. Lirana turned and strode to the viewing pool.
Zecaras stood at the edge of the water, with arms crossed beneath the folds of his robe. He did not look up as Lirana came to stand beside him. She let her eyes drift to the scene projected on the water’s surface.
The godling stood once more at the invisible line of the barrier surrounding the dark wizard’s tower. Three crafters watched her from the road.
“She’s been that way for the past two hours,” Zecaras said. “Hasn’t moved an inch.”
“The crafters should retreat.”
“Yes.” The Custodian’s hand appeared from beneath his robe. With two fingers, he made a pinching motion in the air. The scene zoomed in so that the crafters filled the viewing area.
Lirana squinted and leaned closer. The crafters were wide-eyed and rigid. Their hands frozen in strange positions. “They can’t move.”
“Their terror is palpable.” Zecaras allowed the scene to zoom out. “She’s playing with them like a cat would a mouse.”
“For hours?”
“Yes.” He nodded, and the image in the pool zoomed out.
The godling’s head slowly turned until it seemed as if she were looking at viewers in the pool, and then she grinned.
“She can see us,” Lirana whispered. “She’s looking directly at us through the pool.”
The girl’s left hand rose and her fingers curled. She took one step forward, thrusting her hand through the barrier. Magical energy sizzled and sparked around her forearm as it made contact with her skin. The lead crafter began sliding down the road toward her, his body rigid and unmoving, heels dragging through the dirt.
Lirana wanted to look away, to ask the Custodian to do something, but she couldn’t. There was nothing to do but watch.
The crafter continued sliding, moving faster and then coming to an abrupt stop as his head slapped against the creature’s hand. The godling turned toward her victim, cocking her head, as a bird of prey would do when considering its prey.
What happened next occurred quickly, but Lirana saw it all as if watching in slow motion.
The godling’s arm retracted, jerking the crafter halfway through the barrier. The air hissed and the man’s eyes and mouth flew open. The magic closed in to re-form the barrier, cutting the man in half. The godling held the front portion of the corpse while the back half sloughed to the ground with a wet schlock.
Lirana heard a scream. Seconds passed before she realized that the sound had come from her.
The godling turned back to stare at them once more through the viewing pool. Then she laughed and released the remainder of the crafter’s body. Before it hit the ground, both of the godling’s arms extended and the other two crafters flew toward her. With a hiss, they zipped completely through the barrier and into her grasp. Multicoloured light flashed around them, flowing out of and then into the godling as she drained them of their life force.
“Stop the vision,” Lirana said.
The Custodian watched the godling, unmoving.
“Please.”
“Hush.” He barked.
“I can’t watch anymore—”
“Then look away.”
Lirana frowned.
“She’s about to leave the tower.”
As if on cue, the godling dropped the bodies and took two steps forward, stepping through the barrier as if it didn’t exist.
“Light and Darkness save us,” Lirana whispered.
The godling stood still for long minutes. She looked left, paused, and then turned to her right and began walking down the road.
Lirana didn’t know what to say. What to ask. She felt hope leave her, as tears began to flow from her eyes. She looked to Zecaras, the most powerful crafter living, for guidance on what to do next.
His eyes were closed. Head bowed.
Chapter 30
Isaac felt the aura of speed disappear and stopped playing the drum. He took another dozen strides and came to a stop.
“You were closer that time,” Fen offered, from where he sat under a nearby tree.
I
saac turned to Jyachin. “I think it felt better.”
The apprentice nodded. “Gettin’ there, that’s for sure.”
“Twisting songs.” Isaac trotted over to where Fen sat and accepted the offered water skin. “I knew it would be tricky, but not this much.”
“If it makes you feel any better, only one in eight bards is ever able to do it.”
“Twist songs?” Isaac poured a stream of water into his mouth and swallowed. “Is that so? But you can?”
Jyachin nodded. “You…my master wouldn’t have accepted me if I’d lacked the potential.”
“That’s a bit elitist, isn’t it?” Aleron said.
“Not really.” Jyachin stood. “The only hope a young bard with potential has of actually learning to twist songs is to be accepted by a master who can do it themselves.” He grinned. “Because, as you’re finding out, it’s tricky.”
Isaac laughed and dropped to the ground. “I need to rest.”
“Of course.” Jyachin reached for his drum and walked to the dirt road. “I’ll call out the steps and then demonstrate again for you.”
“Sorry to make you keep repeating this,” Isaac said.
“Nonsense. I’ve spent years getting to where I am, and even now I sometimes mess it up. Until you arrived, I was doing these drills every day. That’s the only way to get better, and I’m at the beginning of my career.”
Isaac nodded.
“Okay, then. I’ll recite the lesson. Don’t stop me. Keep up and save questions for the end.” Jyachin tucked the drum into the crook of his arm. “Every bard can play one song at any given moment. It takes three seconds of playing to create an effect, or as bards call it, aura. When you stop playing, that aura remains for an additional twenty-one seconds.”
Jyachin began to play what had now become a familiar tune. Even from where he sat, Isaac could feel the hairs on his arms rise as the speed aura formed. The bard immediately stopped playing and started to count out loud. When he reached the count of twenty-one, the aura faded.
“With enough talent, a bard can begin to play another song and cause a second aura to overlap with the first before it fades.”
Jyachin played the first song and the aura appeared. Then he began to tap out the sequence of another song. Three seconds later, the air around him started to hum. He stopped playing and the two effects lingered before fading in the correct amount of time. He smiled. “And that is how you twist songs. A good bard can twist two; an amazing bard, four.”
