by Tao Wong
Omrak nodded. “Well, it’s good we’re not going there then. I don’t do well with birds.”
“Most don’t,” Tula said. “Come, we should catch up. And I should let the village know we will arrive soon.”
Once she had finished speaking, Tula took off, leaving Omrak to watch his friend disappear down the hill in the half-crouch, mile-eating lope that she did. In short order, he began to lose sight of her figure as her camouflaged clothing and the Ranger’s ability to pick out minor dips and twists in the hill began to blend her figure in.
“What a wonderful day to be alive. Now, if there was a monster…”
“Don’t jink us, you idiot!” Vivian, seated on a passing wagon, snapped at Omrak who offered her a wide grin in return.
It took the expedition the rest of the afternoon to reach the village, greet the titular village head, put up a temporary camp, and deal with curious villagers. By the time the expedition was settled, the sun had begun to set and campfires were being stoked. Having settled the expedition, Tula took off to finish the last of her duties, walking to the expansive treehouse with its ladder entrance that made up the Ranger outpost of the village.
She took hold of the simple rope ladder that led to the outpost, scurrying up the swaying contraption with practiced ease. Ranger outposts were the same the kingdom over where it was possible, built high to maximise sightlines and natural defences. That the village had then grown up around the outpost was not uncommon, leaving the giant tree and the Rangers within alone.
“Tula,” the grizzled, salt-and-pepper Ranger who manned the outpost greeted the young Ranger the moment she arrived.
“2nd Class Apprentice Ranger Tula reporting in with an expedition from Silverstone,” Tula said, striding over to the desk the Ranger manned. “Permission to begin, Ranger Luke?”
“Permission given, Apprentice Tula,” Luke said.
Tula spoke quickly, detailing the trials of the expedition. As she spoke, the older Ranger made notes on sheaths of paper in a short-hand script, one that consisted of scribbled letters and hieroglyphs rather than full words. It was, in common parlance, Ranger script and what all Rangers were taught to read from the beginning of their apprenticeship. Not only did it save on paper, it also allowed the Rangers to keep their secrets and pass them on, often in open view of others.
“And one nest of seven kappa seven miles north of waypoint eleven at the small lake shaped like a J,” Tula said, finishing her report. “Not dealt with.”
“Too far from the road for now,” Luke said, pursing his lip. “But that nest could be a problem. I’ll add a quest for it.”
“Yes, sir,” Tula said.
“If that’s all,” Luke said, and after Tula acknowledged it, he set his quill down and spread the papers apart to let them air dry. At that point, Luke broke into a wide grin, walking around the table to give Tula a big hug, spinning the diminutive Ranger around.
“Good to see you, sprout!”
“Mmpphfff…” Face pressed into Luke’s chest, Tula struggled to speak and breathe.
“Ah, hush. I haven’t seen you in years. To think, you’re a 2nd Class Apprentice now!” Luke said, grinning wide. “Amazing.”
Finally released after she stomped on Luke’s foot, Tula growled at her old master before giving him a more comfortable hug. “You idiot. Are you still working here alone?”
“Ah, well, you know how it is,” Luke said with a shrug. “Lots of talent, but little interest.”
“Or their interest is disapproved of,” Tula said, a trace of bitterness creeping into her voice. Luke snorted and smacked her on the shoulder.
“What, you want someone who hates the job working alongside you?” Luke said. “No. You know why we do things the way we do. Would you change it?”
“I’d…” Tula paused then her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I wouldn’t. The Rangers take those who are called, not those who are interested.”
“Exactly,” Luke said. “So. The Rybachly Lake?”
“Yes. But he mentioned the gorge too,” Tula said. Luke rolled his eyes at her words.
“Stay away. They had a good year since I took down the wyvern family that had been bothering the village,” Luke said. “Be a few years before the Nizhnye raptors balance out. You might even see a few flying around if you’re going to the lake.”
“Then you best get me the details,” Tula said. At Luke’s gesture, the pair walked over to another table where a map of the surroundings was pinned down with small carvings situated across the map. As they reached the map, Luke began to point to each carving, detailing the threats each marking denoted. In turn, Tula listened intently, knowing that such information could make the difference between death and survival.
Late in the evening, Tula found herself outside the backdoor of a small house set near the edge of the village’s wooden fence. The fence itself had seen numerous repairs since she had last been here, a constant requirement to ensure the village itself was safe. Of course, just a simple wooden barrier would never be enough, but that was what the numerous village dogs were for. One of which, having recognised an old friend, was butting up against Tula’s hand, desperate for a scratch.
Tula sighed, staring at the imposing door again, and scratched the dog’s ears, taking comfort in the loving comfort. Drawing a deep breath, Tula girded her courage and knocked. As her raised fist was coming down for the third time, the door flew open.
“Well, come in. Knocking as if you’re a stranger. Really. And it took you long enough.” The short, matronly woman within sniffed at Tula as she stalked back into the kitchen. “I kept your dinner warm, but it’s so late, it’s all be dried out.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Mati,” Tula said as she walked in and closed the door on the pitiful-looking dog. “Your food is always good.”
“Not good enough to keep you here. Three years and we barely get a letter!” Tula’s mother groused.
“I send one every time I can,” Tula protested. “I can’t help it if there are no traders when I’m on an expedition.”
“Bah! You should stop with all this expedition nonsense. Be a proper Adventurer if you have to go run around,” Tula’s mati said. “At least you sent letters properly when you were doing that Dungeon.”
“You know I hate being stuck in one place,” Tula said, putting hands on her hips.
“Har! As if I wouldn’t know why my own baby left me.”
“Mati!”
“Oh, fine, fine. You have your life to live. Not as if anything I say has ever made a difference. Not as if your sister isn’t happy being married to Laust and has their third kid on the way, no?” Tula’s mati continued to mutter as she spooned the simple stew into a bowl and then added slices of a roast and grease-fried potatoes to a plate, all of which was placed before Tula.
“A third child?” Tula said, stabbing one of the pieces of meat. “Already?”
“Yes, a third. The other two are growing up good, though we had a scare with young Anders last winter when he caught a cold. Nearly lost him…” Successfully diverted, Tula’s mati began to detail the trials and travails of village life.
In turn, Tula listened with one ear open, garnering some details that had not been passed on in their sporadic letters. It was comforting to be at home, eating familiar, too-greasy food. It was a trial too as her mother’s constant, loving complaints rained upon her. Still, as she speared another potato, the Ranger found the knot in her shoulders relaxing. Home was where you could always come back, even if you never did want to.
Chapter 10
“It really was a very nice village,” Daniel said. Two days later, the expedition was on the move. As they were headed into the overgrown forest, the expedition was moving mostly on foot with the supplies placed on a half dozen pack horses detached from their wagons. The Adventurers were all carrying their own goods, most of which were stored in their Inventory space. Of course, Merchants and Traders had their eq
uivalent Skills, though many preferred to use Skills like Lightened Load or Perfect Fit that maximised the amount of space their conveyances and bag could carry. After all, a single carriage was many times more expansive than an Adventurer’s Inventory.
In reply to Daniel, Asin let out a low purr.
“And Tula’s mother was very nice. A bit wordy, but very nice,” Daniel continued. Another purr from Asin. “She even gave us a warm meal for today.”
“Mmmmrrmmm.”
“So. Is that what mothers are like?” Daniel asked. Since his own had died so long ago he could not even remember her face, and his dad when he was a child, the entire ‘homely’ atmosphere was a bit of a shock to the Adventurer.
“Some.”
“We are in the forest now. Quiet,” Bjarne who was walking alongside the pair of Adventurers said.
Daniel flashed Bjarne a quick smile before he stayed silent. Not that he understood the reason. Between the horses, their tack and baggage and the tromp of the numerous members of the expedition, it was not as if their little group was silent. Even if they had left behind a large number of the merchants who had no talent at moving silently, they were not a quiet group. Any monster that wanted them would find them easily enough.
Then again, it was probably to allow the guards to hear any potential ambush group first rather than for the team to not attract attention. Or a little of both, since the noise from conversations between the tens of members of the expedition would travel even farther.
Coming that far in his thoughts, Daniel had to admit there were good reasons to be quiet. It was not as if the forest was safe. Monster attacks were pretty much a given. The number of plants that were known to be dangerous were high too – from hanging vines that shifted towards body heat and wrapped their prey up to poisonous groves of trees that would lull travellers to sleep under their boughs.
For all that, there was beauty too. As an ex-Miner, Daniel was more familiar with the depths of a mountain than he was with the expanse of the forest, but he had seen his fair share of them. Yet, the Great Forest of Pirin had managed to live up to its name. Brilliant, lush vegetation abounded, and flowers the size of his head gave off the most delightful floral scents along with fruits the size of fists. By his side, Asin had located and was peeling apart the skin of mangsteen—a mutated plant similar to a mango but with a thicker, furred skin. The flesh of the mangsteen came off in firm slices as Asin used her claws to great effect, popping the sweet flesh into her mouth without pause.
“Could be poisonous,” Daniel muttered to his friend.
Asin sniffed, then pointed to Sumuhan. “Poison detection.”
“Really?” Daniel said, eyebrow rising. That was an interesting and unique Skill. It was not one that was of great use among Dungeon-delving Adventurers. Smart Adventurers just carried a lot of poison resistance potions and assumed that most things would be poisoned—but out here, he could see how it could be useful. Of course, the question then became, what kind of skill was required to practice to get that kind of Skill?
Asin’s answer was to proffer an unpeeled fruit to Daniel. There was a brief hesitation before Daniel took the fruit in hand and pulled his knife out to peel it out. Of course, he did not stop from regarding their surroundings, but right now, the pair of them were not on guard duty.
The mangsteen was slightly chewy and extremely sweet, the taste of the fruit filling his mouth. Each bite refreshed the taste, a lovely relief as he scanned the area. On occasion, Daniel heard the chirping of birds in the distance and the never-ending buzz of insects. But overall, it was a peaceful walk—so far. Not that Daniel expected otherwise —this close to the village, most large predators would have learnt to avoid the group. No. The real danger would only arise later, in the true depths of the forest.
Late at night, Rob crawled out of the humid tent he had been attempting to fall asleep in, groaning as he straightened up. As an Enchanter, his attributes mostly focused on his Intelligence and Willpower. Sure, as an Adventurer, he had slotted a few of his extra Skill points into Constitution, but it was not as if it was even of secondary importance. Which meant that the constant, never-ending walk that had been this day left him with a constant ache in his feet and bum. Now, rather than a comfortable bed to sleep in, he had to sleep in a humid, stuffy tent with a mildew bedroll.
“Either be wet or dry,” Rob grumbled to himself. Hiding a yawn, the Selkie limped over to the nearest fireplace. “This humidity is ridiculous.”
“I agree,” Vivian said. “Wish I had a cooling and drying spell.”
“Mmmm…” Rob’s eyes tightened in thought. After a brief moment of consideration, the Selkie shook his head. “Not worth it. You’d have to use at least four anchor points and a central enchantment…”
“You’re the Enchanter, right?” Vivian said. “I’m Vivian. We haven’t had much chance to talk.”
“Yes, I am. And you’re the sorcerer,” Rob said.
“You didn’t sneer.”
“Should I?’
“Most mages do.”
“I’m not a mage,” Rob said. As Vivian continued to stare inquisitively at him, Rob relented and added, “Selkies do not have many Mages. Most who have the ability and desire to learn in a structured format become Enchanters like me. Those who are magically inclined but less academically inclined are either Shamans or Sorcerers like you.”
“Oh,” Vivian said. “I didn’t know that. But…”
“Ask if you intend to ask.”
“Why Enchanters?” Vivian gestured to Rob’s body. “When you’re, you know-”
“Transformed.”
“Right, that. You can’t really, you know, carry your enchantments with you, can you?’
In answer, Rob flicked his fingers. From behind and around his robes, his enchanted spikes floated, twisting and hovering beside his body. Vivian’s eyes widened and then narrowed as she considered the implications.
“But auric enchantments…”
“Can be created to blend and transform with Selkie skins,” Rob said. “The gestures and incantations of a Mage are much more complicated and constraining. Enchantments, properly created enchantments, allow you to layer multiple effects. An Enchanter, given enough time and resources, can face any threat.” Vivian’s lips curled up slightly, watching Rob get impassioned. When Rob realised what he was doing, he flushed and then ducked his head. “Sorry.”
“No need. It was kind of cute.”
Rob turned even redder, looking away from the Sorcerer. “And you? Why did you choose to be a Sorcerer?”
“Money,” Vivian said simply.
“Money?”
“Spell books are expensive. Magic lessons are even more expensive. I learned enough from my… well… I learned enough to cast my first spell. And that was good enough for me to clear the first floor of the Alanora Dungeon. Then I leveled and I got the Skill option for Sorcerer as an option and, well, it would give me a second spell.” Vivian shrugged. “I needed to do the second level, and no one wanted a Mage with one spell. But a Sorcerer with two? That was useful.”
Rob inclined his head in thanks for her story. All too often, the Dungeons were the dumping ground of towns. It was not a direct policy, but if you were poor, hungry and had the registration fee, the Dungeon shone as a beacon of hope. There were even predators, money lenders, and trainers, who preyed on the desperate, teaching and lending just enough to allow their victims to enter the Dungeons. High interest rates meant that these unlucky few often found themselves forced to delve deeper and deeper, faster than their barebone Skills could keep up with. In this way, overpopulation and homeless problems fixed themselves, especially in some of the more ruthless cities.
As the pair fell silent and Rob tried to hide a yawn, their attention was drawn to a light that flitted towards them. It bobbed and weaved, glittering in all the hues of purple and blue, a shifting living violet and changing sky. In short order, a second light joined it, the f
laming red of a rose to the softer, kinder colours of a sunset. Then a third, but this one glittering with the shades of gold and ripened grain. As more and more lights appeared, joining the first few, the once dark campground became lively and bright.
“Shit… they’re monsters,” Rob said, realisation dawning on him when he shook himself awake from being beguiled. He reached a hand out for one of his enchanted balls, intending to use the area effect attack to deal with the monsters. Only to have a hand fall on his.
“Stop,” Tula said.
“What…?”
“They’re harmless.”
“Are you sure?” Rob said, doubt in his voice. In his experience, anything this beautiful, this enthralling, was just a prelude to an attack.
“The sylphina angels are natural creatures, morphed by being in the Great Forest. This variety only appears here, in this forest,” Tula said. She reached out, and one of the lights alit on her hand, its wings flapping on her fingers. “Their lights are entirely benign.” Tula paused, her voice dropping as she stared at the butterflies before she added, “There used to be hundreds, tens of hundreds of them when I was younger. A random mutation caused by Mana. But, it’s a benign mutation, a useless one. And it makes them easier to eat, so…”
“They’ve been dying off,” Vivian said, her voice soft and sad. Tula looked over to the other girl who had her hand out, staring at the butterfly that had landed on her hand, which shone and glittered so beautifully. And fatally.
“Yes,” Tula replied softly. So softly that Rob could barely hear her.
Together, the three watched the butterflies as they flitted around the camp in silence. The guards had been warned by Tula, and so none of them took action. But soon enough, too soon it seemed, the butterflies took off and left the campsite in search of sustenance. Leaving behind a trio of Adventurers that had seen something beautiful and tragic. Something ephemeral.
“Rob?” Vivian said, looking at the Selkie.
