by TJ Reynolds
The young man found the wizard on his stoop below the three-faced shrine of Brintosh’s godhead.
The kindly face in the center represented Briga, the mother of all, waves swirling around her image. Andag, the kind and generous father, stood to her left. His element was earth. And on the right, surrounded by gouts of flame, was the stern and deadly visage of Yugos, favored by the Brintoshi. He was the god of war.
Jakodi looked up as Kai approached. The old wizard’s face, somehow smooth despite his long thinning white hair, reminded Kai of an ancient scroll. His skin was parchment thin, branching veins beneath visible even from a few paces away. And of course, Jakodi’s eyes were white and sightless.
The old man smiled and greeted him. “From the forest’s deep returns the adventurer, Kai! Was your day bountiful?”
Kai couldn’t help but grin. Each day he found Jakodi after his evening meal, and each day the same greeting was given. “Well enough to feed myself. Still, I can’t help but wish tomorrow will be better.”
Jakodi nodded, his mouth still crinkled in an honest grin. “Do you wish me to read your progress, young adventurer?”
“Yes, please,” Kai answered, hopeful, despite knowing little had changed since the day before. He focused his mind, allowing the wizard to see within him.
Jakodi peered into Kai’s soul a moment before pronouncing, “Your current Progression is 78. You lack only 22 Progression until you ascend to Crimson 1. Well done, Kai!”
Kai sighed, feeling the slow pace of his first essential goal weigh on him. A single point for the three scrappy squirrels he’d killed was a modest gain, though, so he tried to take it in stride. After all, some days, he couldn’t find any game.
Seeming to sense the young man’s distress, Jakodi encouraged him. “Many in this world never progress at all. Their cores remain diffuse, unfocused. To become ascended, it will take considerable patience and hard work, Kai. You know this.”
Kai nodded, forcing himself to smile. And the old man was right.
He’d come to Mindonne months ago with a Progression of only 17. That had been accumulated from a lifetime of killing the squirrels and small beasts near his childhood home. The normal toil of life, slaughtering chickens or even the occasional swine, granted no ether. For some unknown reason, it was only in combat that ether could be gathered into your core.
It was a frustrating reality, but explained why so few besides hunters, adventurers, and soldiers ascended.
After leaving the farm behind, he’d promised himself to become a Crimson ascended warrior in no time at all.
Life, however, was more complicated than he’d thought. He needed to eat, a place to sleep, and keep his clothes cleaned and maintained. Adding to those modest ambitions, he’d found he needed to add a warm bath once a week if the townsfolk were to deal with him at all.
Jakodi held up his hand and Kai took it, helping the wizard to his feet.
The old man was about as heavy as a sack of wet feathers. Kai supported him effortlessly. The wizard patted his hand when he stepped down, then turned toward his hut at the edge of town.
While they walked, Jakodi told Kai a story. Such was their ritual each evening, and the young man had grown to enjoy each telling despite having long since outgrown such pleasures. Still, he could not afford the luxury of a book, and had few enough encounters that called for polite conversation. He humored the old man, taking each tale for what it was: a gift cheerfully given.
Today, Jakodi began with the tale of Midge the Muck Farmer, and though the story had a bawdy twist at the end that usually brought a smile to his lips—who wouldn’t laugh to hear of a man cuckolded by his own swine?—it reminded Kai too much of the radishes and potatoes of his uncle’s farm.
“Can you tell me of Kevir’s fall?” Kai asked as politely as he could. Then he amended his request, “I’m a young man and haven’t even kissed a girl for a year and a day, Jakodi. Tell me of something other than jaded love.”
Jakodi laughed, a dry and merry sound. “With speed and with pleasure, my boy. Then I’ll tell a story of true love.” Without pause, the wizard began, “The great dragon Kevir was the bastion of Old Hintar. His wings spread wide enough to encompass an entire village, and his fire could melt the stars above.”
Kai loved the way the old wizard told stories. Though the stories rarely changed, with each telling, Kai plucked out some new fragment or detail.
The story meandered along with them, the battles Kevir fought, his growing pride, and the woman whose beauty captivated the beast’s heart.
“And for the first time, a dragon bound itself to this world. Kevir gave half of his strength to the mountain he rested upon, creating the first Earth Core. This new creature, the first dungeon, grew in wisdom and power, fueled by Kevir’s vast stores of ether.
"Within the dungeon, Kevir could take on the likeness of a man, and there he learned the art of quill and parchment, to write the endless depths of his love for the woman he’d seen bathing at the river.
“Soon, he left his dungeon on wings of ambition, finding the small keep the woman called home. The knights there prepared themselves for a valiant death, but were surprised when the great dragon lifted back up into the air again and flew back to the mountains.
"Only a scroll remained on the churned soil where he’d landed, and upon the scroll, an elegant hand inquired…”
Kai cut in, finishing the familiar line, “For a thousand taels of gold and a thousand more of silver, send me the woman with hair of fire and eyes of jade."
Another burst of laughter escaped Jakodi’s lips, and he patted Kai’s hand again. “Why ask me to tell you then, if you know the story so well on your own?”
“Because it inspires me. I hope to find a dungeon one day and claim its riches for my own,” he admitted, knowing full well that all remaining Earth Cores were either shivvered beyond repair or else strictly controlled and jealously guarded by the King’s vast armies. “Still, I wonder,” he mused, “have all the dragons died? Surely, Jakodi, some must have escaped into the mountains?”
The wizard fell quiet for a few minutes before answering thoughtfully, “There are many hidden places in this land. Anything is possible, my friend.”
Kai indulged himself in another question. Jakodi was ever-patient, so he had no fear of irking the man. “I know the Tale of Kevir is part myth, but how much do you suppose is accurate? Do dragons really make Earth Cores? Can they only take human form inside their dungeons, or can they do so outside as well? Oh, and why would a creature so powerful wish to become vulnerable like that in the first place? Kevir’s end, if he truly died in such a fashion, must have provoked the dragons to avoid giving over some of their power to make an Earth Core, not carry the tradition forward.”
“All good questions, Kai. Much of the legend is true, yet the details have all likely gone to meat and mushrooms. Similar taste but different substance. I’m not even sure if there was a maiden. Your last point is quite interesting. I believe the dragons continued on making Earth Cores because it gained them access to novel experiences. Living as a man is much different than as a dragon. Having access to both must have been irresistible for creatures with the intelligence and sophistication of the dragons. They didn’t exactly do as Kevir did either. A great council was held in which rules were defined in how Earth Cores were to be both protected and restricted.”
Kai’s eyes lit up. The details, the precise how and why of past events, always fascinated him. “Tell me that story, then! Or do you have a book on the matter?”
They arrived at the wizard’s small hut, a roof and four walls cobbled together with goodwill and a double portion of hope more so than nails and milled wood. Turning to his friend, he said in a tired voice, “I’m sorry, Kai. You are right to suspect. No story can contain all that passed in the forging of those laws of magic. The books, any we might access in our corner of the world at least, are taken or destroyed.”
The wizard winked, his abundant mirth retu
rning easily. And before he bid the young adventurer goodnight, he placed a hand on his forehead, sending a thread of warmth through his body. The lump on Kai’s head, along with a scraped shin and scratches on his forearm, healed, leaving only the faintest memory of a wound. The injuries were minor, the products of a few careless moments when setting another snare, but their sudden disappearance was a wondrous relief.
“I don’t have the coin for such a boon, Jakodi. Please…”
The wizard snapped his fingers, and chided, “Shush, now, my son. Not even crows like idle chatter. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then Jakodi shut the door, leaving Kai alone in the street.
The young man hurried home, no longer slowed by his friend’s old and ailing joints. And though Jakodi hadn’t finished the rest of the story, Kai continued to replay the ending in his head.
Kevir waited on his mountain throne with his Earth Core, his only friend. Until one day, a contingent of men brought the woman he’d fallen in love with. The Lord of the land had happily agreed; she was only a servant after all. When they arrived, a handful of knights pulled her along and tossed her in the dungeon, removing the treasure Kevir offered them.
And though the Lord would never have dared attack a dragon, he saw firsthand the humble form Kevir wore. Fair to the eye, but a man as frail as any other. So that night, the Lord sent his men to slay the dragon in his sleep.
The story struck a note deep within Kai. It heralded the beginning of an era, as much as it told of the bitter end of one. Kai would give anything to have seen Kevir in his majesty or any beast so mighty.
Kai could almost hear Jakodi’s voice whisper the final lines. If legend can be trusted, his death gave birth to a hundred more dragons. Each of these made their own Earth Cores, filling the mountains with wonder. The world was never the same again.
Kai shook his head, shaking his idle thoughts away. Imagining the world alive and full of dragons and dungeons deep wouldn’t bring them back to life.
He stared about him at the empty marketplace, the butcher’s stand and the sagging buildings of Mindonne, and for the hundredth time, wanted so much … more. Kind as Winford’s offer of apprenticeship had been, Kai could never settle for such a humble life.
At last, he came to Maeve’s house. He walked up the alley around the side of her home, the back of which served as the town's brewery. The malty tang of her trade suffused Kai’s clothes and filled his nose each night until he couldn’t smell anything else.
The roof behind slanted down and fell almost to the ground. A small but dry storage room rested against the back of the brewery. The walls of his tiny home were warmed by the fires of the burners and boilers beyond the wooden walls. Atop a few empty crates in the back, padded by a thin, woolen mattress, Kai slept each night.
He’d seen the faces of the townsfolk when they occasionally saw him tumble out of his tiny home, but he didn’t care.
It was warm and dry.
Kai gave Maeve eight pennies a week for the pleasure, and she was kind enough to include a mug of ale every Sunday and an old blanket.
So, as Kai pulled out one of the apples Winford had given him, he crawled into his steamy nook, and took a bite. There was frightfully little he could do when the light failed. He’d had coin for a candle to read borrowed books, and for a time, he found a few townsfolk willing to pay a penny for a whittled toy knight.
Those luxuries had been short-lived, however, and besides, he was as tired as a thrice-told joke. He lay down on his rough bed and fell to his first and final pastime, daydreaming of adventures to come.
He would prove himself worthy of being called a true Brintoshi one day, no matter how much it cost him. He only hoped it didn’t take too long.
2
Spark to Flame
Kai
It was Friday, and though he’d just handed Maeve eight of the twelve pennies he had to his name, Kai left town with a spring in his step and a spirit buoyed with hope.
The past few weeks had been lean hunting. At one point over the past months, Kai’s stockpile had grown to two silver and fifteen coppers, but his stash had dwindled as the red squirrels and fat hares in the surrounding forest thinned.
Desperate to gain Progression and a handful of coin, Kai had unwisely challenged a buck the week before. It had showed him exactly how thick his skin was in a matter of moments. The beast had charged, its great antlers goring Kai in his ribs. After thrashing to and fro, it had bounded away into the forest, leaving Kai bloody and ragged.
He’d hobbled back to town, faint with blood loss and a good deal wiser. Despite his situation, he could not afford to tangle with beasts more powerful than himself.
Jakodi had healed him, but had been so taxed by the effort he was consigned to bed the following day; the old man was forced to charge Kai for his services.
So, rather than buy the wooden buckler or the spiked mace he’d been eyeing in the armorer’s shop, he’d kept his black oak cudgel, cut from a bough near his uncle’s farm. Though the handle curved slightly, the end was formidable, for a chunk of wood at least. An insect had pestered the branch enough that a knot had grown around the wound, forming a dense burl. It was the only weapon Kai could afford, so he treasured it.
Making a meal out of the bread Sorcha had given him and another apple, Kai headed out of town, moving through the trees of the forest before half the town had roused itself. Kai frittered away these first few hours of the morning in fruitless searching. Not a single squirrel or rabbit stirred in the brush. Kai considered heading back to town to beg a bit of work from someone, enough to fill his belly that night at least, before turning south instead.
Kai had meandered to the southern reaches of the Atoli forest, close to the edge of the Mirin Swamps, the endless mire that so many adventurers feared. Only once had he been foolish enough to continue beyond the forest’s edge. After spending a sleepless night in a tree waiting for a pack of wolves to grow bored, he’d run home and hadn’t come back since then.
There was game aplenty there, however, and monsters to fight. If Kai braved the swamps and killed even a few of the creatures that stalked the murky marsh, he might ascend to Crimson this very day! The danger it represented was real. So, it was with a pit of uncertainty in his stomach, that Kai found himself stalking south beyond the Atoli toward the gloomy mists of the Mirin Swamp.
The trees changed first.
Instead of the green and supple boughs of the Atoli’s pines that he was used to, the trees hunched over themselves, becoming twisted gray caricatures of arboreal vitality. Something in the soil may have been responsible, a forgotten waste spilled in the depths of the swamp long ago, or perhaps brackish waters seeped up the delta from the ocean. Either way, only a few trees survived, with a handful of leaves or a stubborn clump of needles the only evidence of their continued struggle for life.
Kai made his way among the soggy hillocks, trying to stay on the diminishing trail he’d started down. The ground he stood on sank as he shifted his weight and he fell forward, his boot sinking into a pocket of mud. Bright pain seared his leg just above the ankle, and he raised his cudgel, afraid he might be under attack. Yet only a shrunken plant stood valiantly against him, some thistle perhaps, tough enough to pierce the tattered fabric of his pants.
When his plight became clear, he focused on pulling his foot free of the clingy, devouring muck, nearly losing his boot.
Sitting down to put his boot back on and assess the bleak situation, Kai spotted movement at the base of a nearby tree. He squinted, doubting his eyesight for a moment, before another flash of movement revealed the squashed and ugly face of a mole peeking up from its hole.
It was huge, for a mole that is, as large as a half-grown hound. Its tiny eyes glittered with malevolence.
This is it, Kai thought, standing and rolling his shoulders back, preparing himself for battle. Swing hard and swing true, you idiot. Don’t screw this up!
Hefting his cudgel, he slogged forward, only
to see the animal duck down in its burrow again. He peered down into the hole, aware of a faint musk. Having committed himself to the attack, Kai pondered how he might flush the creature out but came up short. He could start a fire and smoke it out but wasn’t even sure how to go about doing such a thing amidst the damp gloom of the swamp.
So, with a belly full of desperation and strengthened by the ignorance of youth, he stuck his hand down the hole. Due more to the shabby leather gloves that he wore than the strength of his bones, Kai didn’t lose his fingers when the mole attacked his intruding digits. Kai curled his hand into a fist, instinctively grasping the mole’s snout, and yanked the overgrown rodent out of its den.
If an onlooker had witnessed the previous exchange, they would be hard pressed to decide who was more surprised by this turn of events when the mole literally landed in Kai’s lap. The beast squealed and Kai squirmed away, scrambling for his club. They both came to their feet and then valiantly strove to kill one another.
The mole flashed forward, too fast for a mere garden pest, the like he’d grown used to battling in the potato patch. Kai swung his cudgel with full force, but the beast slipped beneath his attack, and leapt up at him. It sank its teeth and claws in the soft flesh of his thigh. Kai winced, stifling a yelp, and smashed the animal on its head.
Tougher than a barrel full of stones, the mole continued to savage his leg until he’d struck it half a dozen times, the sharp crack of its crushed skull and a pink spatter of blood and brain marking his success.
“Shivving bastard! Gods, I need a real bleeding weapon!” he growled, the full extent of his injuries flaring to life.
As the mole’s twitching form finally fell still, Kai saw the telltale threads of ether drift up into the air from its body like smoke. More ether than he’d ever seen before twisted in the air towards him.
