Halcyon Rising

by Stone Thomas

  Mercifer and Cindra walked south, toward the cluster of new residences that started a hundred yards from our portal arch. It was flanked by what looked like a commercial strip in one direction, and an industrial strip in the other, with smoke churning from the smith’s chimney.

  Every time I set foot on this hill, our progress surprised me all over again.

  I shielded my eyes from the setting sun as I took it all in. Our hill was just high enough that the forest around it did nothing to block the sun’s rays as it rose in the east or set in the west.

  Lana lay on a blanket in the sun, looking oddly gray contrasted with the patch of bright green grass beneath her. A small crowd of jabbering goblins climbed the lord of the rocks, hanging from the skeleton’s dense ribs and its wide, horned skull inside our “museum.” The smell of roast chick-hen wafted toward me from our chow house, constantly cooking meals for our hard-working residents.

  As Mercifer and Cindra walked further away, something tugged at my pants. Mayblin hid behind my leg, her eyes following the yellow elf with the long gray beard.

  “Who’s the handsome lemon man?” she asked, tugging at the scrappy clothing that held her pendulous green breasts. Her mouth was a toothy yellow grin. “Is he single? He’s old, yes, but just my height. Do you think he likes goblins?”

  “That never came up,” I said. “I see the lord of the rocks is still getting plenty of attention.”

  “Oh.” She rolled her eyes. “They all want to be there when he rises up again. I swear, if those silly old bones do any tricks, I’ll eat my hat.”

  “No you won’t,” I said.

  “Yeah, I so will,” she said.

  “Mayblin, you’re not wearing a hat!”

  “Then I’ll eat my loincloth instead,” she said. “It’s like a hat for my crotch. Keeps it warm in the winter too.”

  I sighed. Sometimes, being right is the wrong approach.

  “Do you have a handle on how much gold you’ve helped mint?” I asked.

  “Hmm?” she replied, still watching after Mercifer. “Let’s handle that later. Romance calls.”

  Our resident goblin shaman scampered off, fluffing up her droopy green ears with a few quick gestures as she ran.

  “Just don’t distract him!” I yelled. “He’s here to help Cindra!”

  That got Lana’s attention. She got up and took her towel from the ground, asking, “Is he another healer?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s going to conjure enough slime to patch up Cindra’s body. Speaking of body problems…” Up close, Lana’s skin wasn’t gray, it was black-and-white with a stone texture.

  “I got curious about the potions Rinka left me,” she said. “I sampled marbleskin, and I have to admit. It was tasty. Like buttery pound cake. It makes your skin sweat little white and black droplets that spread out, covering your skin until you look like a statue, and feel like one too. My skin is rough, and my limbs are a little heavier than normal. I’ve looked and felt like this for a day now.”

  “Any bad effects?” I asked.

  “None,” she said. “In fact, I dropped something on my foot and it didn’t even hurt, it just made my stone skin crack a little bit.”

  “How long will it last?” I asked.

  “Not even Rinka knows,” she said. “I thought getting some sun might dissolve the magic, like with the lumentors, but no such luck. I’ll just head back to the infirmary. Stoned or not, I have work to do.”

  Lana headed toward the steps down to the temple. I reached toward the arch for my return trip to Barren Moon when a short glowing structure caught my eye. At the edge of the hill, Vix stood in front of a seven-sided stone cylinder with her long fluffy fox tail flat on the ground behind her. The structure would have formed an octagon, but one missing side provided entry to the building’s center. Its walls were made from large, uneven chunks of rock held together by a thick vein of mortar. It was the mortar that glowed, a golden light like Nola’s holy aura.

  Vix stared into that structure, hands on her hips. I snuck up behind her and placed my hands on top of hers, but she didn’t seem surprised.

  “I smelled you from a mile away,” she said, turning her head to look at me, then spun completely around, alarmed. I was alarmed too now.

  “Vix,” I said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re huge!”

  “Don’t change the subject!” she yelled.

  “What subject?”

  “You know what subject,” she said. “The blackness around your eyes, the metal loop in your ear. It’s coming true. I forbid you to leave again until we find a way to stop this from progressing!”

  “Mamba, Brion, and Vee are all still in Barren Moon,” I said. “I have to go back.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Leave the ears. The rest of you can go.”

  “No.”

  “Grr!”

  “Look, I’m concerned too,” I said. “I don’t want to admit it, but I am. I’ll be careful though, and back with plenty of time before the moon is full.”

  Vix seemed to relax once I finally confessed that I was taking my fate seriously.

  “Can we talk about how your pregnancy is… progressing?” I asked.

  She rested her hands on her enormous stomach. “Lana thinks it’s the recovery beds. Speeding up my ‘biological processes’ meant more than just my sleep cycle. I’m nearing the end of this pregnancy. At this rate, you’ll be a dad in a matter of days.”

  “A dad with children,” I said.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “And you’re still on your feet?”

  “I’m trying to get these shrines to work,” she said. “Something’s missing.”

  “A shrine requires a psychic link between gods,” I said.

  “We figured that part out,” Vix said. “Nola sat in here and meditated for hours, activating the energem dust in the mortar, and offering Gowes a link to her mind. He accepted it right away, but said the shrine wasn’t active yet. We can’t figure out what’s wrong. I followed the blueprints flawlessly. I used Sites Templar on it. I did everything I was supposed to!”

  Arden!, Nola yelled into my mind. Come here, I need you to chop off my nose. No one else is willing.

  “I wish I could help,” I said to Vix. I started back toward the portal arch. “We should dedicate shrines to Valona, Hipna, and Akrin next. Maybe repeating the process will turn up some ideas.”

  Okay, Nola, I said. I’ll bite. Why should I cut off your nose?

  Because the sneezing continues. The problem wasn’t the plethorchid plant. It’s not godlike to keep sneezing all the time. It’s crass.

  And going noseless isn’t?

  I’m a goddess, she said. I’ll grow a new one, that’s less sensitive.

  No time for nose jobs, I said. I’m just here for a quickie.

  Excuse me?

  Real fast, just in and out.

  Of what?, she asked.

  Halcyon. I have to get back to Barren Moon. Say, you haven’t seen a mailrunner come through here, have you?

  One, she said. Yurip summoned her so he could hand over the census list. Now the mailrunners will know to make deliveries here. Why do you need a… you remembered!

  Remembered what?

  Goddesstine’s Day! You’re sending me a Goddesstine’s Day card! I should have seen this coming, I’ve just been so busy.

  That’s not a thing, I said. I’m sending something else, but not to you. Plus, we’ll have to add Mercifer to the mailrunner’s list. We brought him back from Mournglory to patch up Cindra, and to conjure slimes we can use to trap lumentors.

  Oh!, I continued. We also stumbled upon a building with a Recovery Room and a Meditation Room!

  Another temple?, she asked.

  A temple of the flesh maybe. It was a brothel. This cave you took over? I think it was an ancient whorehouse.

  My temple is not now, and never has been, a brothel, she said. That’s the official story and I’m sticking to it.

  Mayb
e that’s why you’re sneezing, I said. You’re allergic to sin.

  The real sin, she said, is that neither of us can read the etchings in the temple’s back wall. I’m sure that would tell us whose very reputable and not-at-all-prostitutional place of legitimate worship this was.

  We’ll see, I said. Now where’s Yurip? I need to summon the mailrunner back here.

  Bad news, she said. The mailrunner isn’t coming back. She got spooked. Ha, get it?

  No, I said.

  Stay there.

  I waited a few minutes for Nola to climb the stone steps from her temple up the front of the hill. I felt nervous for a second. Guilty. The image from my earlier dream popped up in my mind and I couldn’t shake it. Her soaked clothing clinging to her radiant, golden skin as she waded toward me in a bubbling hot spring…

  “Your eyes!” she yelled.

  “Yes,” I said, “everyone, let’s freak out one by one about how quickly my death approaches. Now what spooked the mailrunner?”

  “They did,” she said, pointing into the forest just outside Halcyon’s front gates. Protected from the sun by the forest’s canopy were dozens of lumentors. They hid in the trees’ constant shadows. For now.

  “We’re surrounded,” I said.

  “This started last night,” she said. “The farmers have all come into the city, so no one is out there on their own. There are more of them every hour, but they don’t attack. They won’t, not for four more days until the moon is full and Duul and Kāya are ready for their assault. Then, we’re in trouble.”

  “So the question is,” she continued. “How much slime can a slime maker make if a slime maker’s life depends on it?”

  +46

  Time to collect Brion, squeeze something useful out of his newly-repaired brain, meet with the Chal, and get back to Halcyon pronto.

  I opened a portal to Barren Moon and stepped through. The archway opened into the Chal’s giant tent, which meant Vee hadn’t set up a permanent arch elsewhere yet.

  I had been in Mournglory for two whole days. Was her hunt for a boyfriend really that all-consuming? I lifted the tent’s door flap and stepped out onto a grassy field filled with gypsies preparing for their annual festival.

  A lot had happened in two days. Hundreds of tents filled the space now, with rows of tables and small merchant stalls in every direction trading with lively customers. Floating orbs of magic dotted the air, illuminating the tents yellow, red, purple, and blue. Accordions, drums, and other instruments played in the background.

  I picked a direction and walked. The Chal wouldn’t meet until midnight, which gave me a few hours to find Mamba and see what this festival had to offer.

  A tight ring of torches was still lit just inside the grassy clearing’s perimeter. Beyond it, a shadow creature rolled along the ground. Long tentacles of pure darkness curled in the air, brushing past the trees if not actually through them. One of its many arms slammed on the ground, then pulled the creature forward so that its bulky shadowy body could roll onward, looking for a place where the protective fires didn’t keep it at bay.

  The darkwind was out tonight. There was no telling how many of those hulking creatures hid in the forest’s depths, and I didn’t particularly want to find out.

  “Arden!” Mamba yelled. I turned back to watch the belly-dancing half-elf sprint toward me. She stopped short when she got close, her eyes darting from the metal loop in my ear to the dark rings that still circled my eyes. “Oh, Arden.”

  “I know,” I said. “No tattoo though, so maybe we’ve already averted Nola’s premonition.”

  She threw her arms around me and I stumbled backward, barely keeping my balance. She smelled sweet, like flowers and honey, but also like something else. “Have you been drinking?” I asked.

  “Not much,” she said. “I took Brion to the pub tent after Gelma gave up on him. He’s not much better than he was before, but he’s not much worse either. He’s fully fifty-fifty.”

  “Well that’s… something,” I said. A smoky, savory scent found my nose next. Mamba caught me scanning the festival for its source.

  “The scent is calling you too,” Mamba said. “Wine!” She took my hand and skipped away, winding an impossible path through the maze of tents. I didn’t know if she had mapped the place out ahead of time, or if she followed a wind only she could feel, but soon we arrived at a small open area ringed by wooden carts like the one Gorinor had used as a prison cell the first time I encountered him.

  Mamba tugged at my arm, pulling me away from the area, but I tried to slow us down. “Mamba, listen.”

  “Did I stop listening?” she asked. “I hadn’t noticed, which is usually the first sign.”

  “Do you hear growling?” I asked.

  She pressed her ear against my chest. “Not yet,” she said, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Not me,” I said, “inside those carts.”

  “Oh, probably. That’s the circus caravan. I always leave before it gets started. All those poor lovies put to a fight. It’s terrible.”

  I walked up to the first cart and pulled back a thick green curtain that hung over the side. Behind it were thick metal poles trapping something inside. As I let the evening light into the wooden carriage, a shiny black cretin leapt at the bars, snarling and growling with a mouth full of jagged teeth.

  I let go of the curtain and jumped back. I knew Gorinor had a cretin captive, but I still wasn’t expecting it. I tugged at the curtain again. It wasn’t just a cretin, it was a window into the stats of every cretin everywhere. Time to see if Duul had revoked his permission for me to skill his creations.

  Δ

  Skillmeister View of:

  Tier One Familiar

  Base Attrib. / XP to Next / Intended Change / Cost

  -

  10 Constitution / 250 XP to Next / none / Total XP Cost: 0

  -

  10 Vivacity / 250 XP to Next / none / Total XP Cost: 0

  -

  10 Strength / 250 XP to Next / none / Total XP Cost: 0

  -

  10 Hardiness / 250 XP to Next / none / Total XP Cost: 0

  -

  10 Focus / 250 XP to Next / none / Total XP Cost: 0

  -

  10 Resolve / 250 XP to Next / none / Total XP Cost: 0

  -

  TOTAL BASE ATTRIBUTE XP COST: 0

  Stats Affected by Change

  -

  [Constitution] Health Points (HP): 1000/1000

  -

  [Vivacity] Action Points (AP): 200/200

  -

  [Strength] Phys. Damage Inflict Range: 100-122

  -

  [Hardiness] Phys. Damage Block Range: 54-76

  -

  [Focus] Mag. Damage Inflict Range: 100-122

  -

  [Resolve] Mag. Damage Block Range: 54-76

  Skills For Special Class: Tier One Familiar

  -

  Attack 3. MASTERED. Launch a physical attack with a Strength multiplier of 1.5. [1 AP to cast] [Requires: Strength 10]. Mastered skills cannot be improved.

  Block 3. MASTERED. Enable defense against any attack with a multiplier of 1.5 to Hardiness and Resolve. [1 AP to cast] [Requires: Hardiness 10, Resolve 10]. Mastered skills cannot be improved.

  Cast 3. MASTERED. Cast this familiar’s signature special skill with greatly improved effectiveness. [20 AP to cast] [Requires: Constitution 10, Vivacity 10, Hardiness 10]. Mastered skills cannot be improved.

  Draw 1. Pull one available energy inward to permanently alter form and Cast type. Finite Skill. Uses left: 1. [200 AP to cast] [Requires: Focus 10, Resolve 10, Constitution 10].

  Improve to Draw 2 to add a slight increase to attribute limits upon skill use. Finite Skill. Uses left: 1. [200 AP to cast] [Requires: Vivacity 10, Strength 10, Hardiness 10][750 XP to improve].

  Intended Change: None

  Cost Subtotal: 0

  -

  TOTAL TIER ONE FAMILIAR SKILL XP COST: 0

  Summary

>   -

  Available XP: 6,905

  Cost of Intended Changes: 0

  Precision Training Discount (8%): 0

  Total Adjusted Cost: 0

  Total Projected Remaining: 0

  Confirm?: Yes / No

  ∇

  Its attributes were all 10s. I added a point to Constitution to see if I could, and it didn’t work. I had a hunch that these cretins were all maxed out, at least for now.

  There was also a skill there I hadn’t seen before. Draw. Duul could afford to spend his minion’s XP to improve it, but he hadn’t. I tucked that fact away and moved on to the next cart, revealing one of Hipna’s snoozers.

  The next few carts had other tier one familiars in them, four-foot tall creatures with eyeless faces and smooth features conjured from gods I had never met before. I didn’t see any of Akrin’s pawns, but I did find one of Avelle’s temple guides.

  Then I found a pale yellow creature with a small bird-like beak and tiny wings on its back. One is missing. Nola’s words played back in my mind. While we were fighting our way into Valleyvale, gypsies had snuck up on us and kidnapped one of Nola’s familiars!

  “We have to set it free,” I said, pulling that curtain all the way aside.

  “I always think that’s best,” Mamba said, “except that right now I very much don’t. The gypsies would kick you right out.”

  “They’ll make these familiars fight to the death,” I said. “Nola will feel that. All the gods will feel it. It’s one thing if familiars die defending the god that made them, but it’s another when they’re pit against each other for some kind of sick show.”

  “Wait until after the midnight Chal meeting,” Mamba said.

  “When does the fighting start?” I asked.

  “At midnight too,” she said.