by Dante King
“I won’t.”
I scooped up the Immense Blades and made my way to the left side of the hall, where I’d seen my friends take their leave earlier. The three dragon spirits within the weapons spun into my mind, a whirlwind of excited voices.
“Oh, sweet man, you make us proud to serve you,” Nydarth said. “To match blows with one of such power is no small feat. I feel the flame within you, stronger and brighter than ever. You must press on and free me so that I may reward you for your labors.”
“Gods, are all dragon spirits so base?” Choshi asked in disgust.
“Nydarth is passionate by nature,” Yono answered, “with no appreciation for the subtler shifts in ocean or pond. But she speaks truly, Master. Your power grows, and with it, our own.”
I pushed open the door, leaving the hall and the Hierophant behind me. Gleaming black stone reflected the light of the soft lanterns on the walls, guiding me toward a series of doors at the far end of the hallway. Intricate carvings had been set into the walls, and ancient representations of gods and dragons whirled over them with wild abandon. Gold trimming gleamed around the images of the mighty creatures.
“Your kin, Nydarth?” Choshi asked.
“Indeed. My mighty ancestors who ruled the Realms millennia ago.” Nydarth sighed. “They have fallen into obscurity, reincarnated into lower forms. A pity, but perhaps a necessary one.”
A single door in the hallway was open. I walked through it and found myself in a small cell that the monks had assigned to me as my bedroom. A bunk sat to the left side, a small bookshelf lined the right wall, and a little shrine stood directly ahead of me.
Candles flickered upon the tiny altar, drawing my attention to the weapon stand upon it. There was room for three staff-sized weapons. I took a moment to unstrap the Depthless Dream and the Demure Rebirth from their place in the harness.
“They even provided us with a place to rest,” Yono observed. “How courteous.”
Choshi yawned. “It’s been a big day, and I’ve taken a pounding. Rest well, Master.”
Nydarth snorted as I placed the warhammer upon the stand. “And she calls me base.”
“She’s but a child, Nydarth,” Yono chided. “She needs time to learn and to grow.”
“You’re quiet, Master,” Nydarth observed. “What ails you?”
I paused to think about it. “I believe there’s something deeper at work behind the sudden arrival of the monastery. And I want to know if Tolin knows the Hierophant and the monks. Their training is incredible, and I’m not about to waste the opportunity, but still... Something feels off.”
“Perhaps you’ve spent too much time fighting, Master,” Yono suggested as I placed the trident down above the warhammer. “There is not always some enemy to fight, and not all conflict involves death and destruction. It rises, crashes, and fades into the whole once again. Perhaps it is time to appreciate a still sea while you have it.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I said. “Good night.”
“Dream deeply, Master.” Yono left my thoughts.
I examined the Sundered Heart. “What do you think about all of this?”
“You should do as you always have, Swordslinger,” Nydarth purred. “Grow in power. Slay the unjust. And continue to tend to your women. I have no doubt that, if something should go awry, you’ll be ready to deal with it in an instant.”
I smiled as I placed the sword on the stand with the other Immense Blades. It’d been a hell of a day, and it was only going to get better from here. The raw power of Physical Augmentation was hard to resist, and I couldn’t wait to use it again. But there were other things to attend to. My friends and I needed to absorb the cores we’d found. The others were asleep, though, so I resolved to wake them up before dawn and see just what we were dealing with.
I settled down onto the hard bunk with a contented sigh and closed my eyes.
Mahrai woke me an hour later.
I heard the hinges of my door shift. The haze of sleep vanished, and I was on my feet in a second. She flinched at the movement, shrank back against the door, and put her fingers to her lips. The candlelight caught the smooth curves beneath her tunic and breeches, and she rolled her eyes as she brushed her messy hair away from her face.
“Gods, you’re jumpy,” she whispered. “How did you fare with the Hierophant?”
“He taught me a few things,” I said with a smile.
“But nothing compared to what I’ve taught you, right?” Mahrai glided toward me with a catlike step and kissed me.
My hands found her shoulders while we kissed, and her tongue danced with mine as she pushed me back to the bunk. She pulled my robe away from my chest, shoved me down until I was sitting against the wall, then settled on my hips with a knowing smirk. I leaned back into the cold stone at my back and watched her chew her lower lip for a moment.
“You don’t want to hear what the Hierophant taught me?” I asked.
“Later. I have needs to be met.”
She pressed her lips to my neck and pulled at my skin with her teeth. I squeezed her thigh as I nudged her away from me and met her eyes again. There was something troubling her, I could tell from the way she avoided my gaze.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I want you,” she said, but she looked uncertain, and that wasn’t in character for her. She blazed through life like an inferno and didn’t think twice about the consequences. But something had been bothering her since we’d set off from Radiant Dragon, and it wasn’t just a lingering hangover.
Mahrai looked away with a small sound of irritation. “I hate it when you look at me like that,” she muttered.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s that understanding thing you do. You see right through me. Like you can read my mind or something.” She sat back on my thighs and hooked her fingers around the hem of her tunic.
“Well, we can sleep together and pretend it’s not a problem. Or you can get it off your chest and talk to me about it. Or we can do both, if you want.” I shrugged.
Mahrai tossed her tunic behind her and stretched. Her pert breasts matched the movement and drew my attention to just how firmly her nipples stood out in the low light. She grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me in for another violent kiss. We stayed that way for a while. Her hands slid over my chest and neck as she ground herself into me with soft, snarling moans. Her legs trembled as she halted the movement and exhaled sharply.
“It’s this place,” she said, answering my previous question. “The discipline, the statues, all of these fucking monks. It reminds me too much of Saruqin and his cultists. All these words about how important we are and what we can do to help the Seven Realms.”
My hands traced the edge of her tunic and found the clasp of her belt. “This is different, Mahrai. Xilarion trained with them. He trusts them, and we can all learn something here.”
“Sounds like you thought the same thing when you met this Horix bastard.”
“It was when I met him that I knew something was up.” I slid her belt out from around her hips. “My gut tells me that these monks are on the Wandering Path. They’re not our enemy. But it doesn’t mean that I trust them, either.”
“Good. So, it’s not just me,” Mahrai sighed as I kissed her breast.
“Definitely not,” I assured her. “We’ve all got your back, Mahrai.”
“You’d better,” she growled. “Now fucking take me, Ethan.”
I shoved her off my lap, tore off her trousers, and stood up behind her. She glanced slyly over her shoulder with gleaming eyes and shook her ass invitingly at me. My pants fell beside her tunic as I took her from behind and pressed her against the wall. Her warmth surrounded me, and she let out a long, needy growl.
“Quiet,” I warned her. “We don’t want to wake the others.”
She slapped a hand over her mouth and pressed herself back into me as hard as she could. The bunk ground against my knees as I doubled my pace. Her thighs tremble
d as her muffled snarls came out faster, and she came with a long, animalistic buck of her hips. She slipped away from me into the covers, and I sat down beside her as she caught her breath.
“Gods, that’s so good,” Mahrai whispered into the blankets.
“Feel better?”
“I will once I’ve tasted you properly.”
Her mouth closed over my length a few seconds later, and I leaned back into the wall as she sucked hungrily at me. Pleasure sparked through every nerve in my body as her head bobbed up and down. Her tongue danced in smooth, coaxing circles, and my back tensed as I shoved my hips upward. Mahrai pulled her mouth away from me and shot me a wicked smile just as I painted her chest.
“Now we’re even,” she said.
She dressed and left without another word. I settled back down to sleep, and a warm jolt of admiration swam through my blood. Mahrai had always found it difficult to trust people, but she was trying her hardest all the same. Sleep claimed me a moment later, leaving me with the memory of Mahrai’s soft skin and mouth.
“Arise, Ethan,” Nydarth called. “You have cores to absorb and a new technique to master.”
I was smiling before I’d even opened my eyes. I stifled a yawn, jumped out of bed, and dressed. The cell didn’t have any windows, but I trusted the dragon spirit’s sense of time as I buckled the sword to my waist and harnessed the trident and the warhammer over my back.
My elemental channels flickered into life, and my replenished pool of Vigor shifted tirelessly at the center of my chest. I slipped out into the corridor, listened at a few of the doors, and heard Kegohr’s familiar snore. I rapped my knuckles against it, and he appeared half a minute later with bleary eyes.
“What is it, Effin?” he asked.
“Keep it down, big guy. You still have the cores?”
His eyes brightened. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We going to absorb them now?”
“Sure are. Wake up Vesma and bring them to the main hall. We’ll train there.”
“What if we’re not allowed to?” he asked.
“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” I winked. “See you in a bit.”
I retraced last night’s steps to the main hall. The Hierophant was nowhere to be seen, and there was no sign of the monks in the wings. I strode through the pillars to admire the artwork painted on the stone while I waited for my friends to arrive.
Kegohr and Vesma appeared from the corridor a few minutes later, both dressed for action. A familiar glint of excitement shone through their eyes as they joined me at the center of the glossy floor.
Kegohr pulled the bundle from under his arm and unwrapped it for us to see. Spinedrake cores glittered in the candlelight.
“Nydarth,” I said to the spirit weapon, “what technique do they give?” In all the bluster and excitement of reaching the monastery and training with the Hierophant, I hadn’t thought to ask her until now.
“That which you’ve seen before but never accomplished.” Nydarth laughed in her rich, deep tone. “You’re in for a treat indeed, my sweet man. And you’ve just the right number for the three of you. These cores will give you the power of Flight.”
Chapter Eleven
I laughed as adrenaline rushed through me. “Okay, hand around the cores.”
“What did Nydarth say to you?” Vesma asked with a nod at the Sundered Heart.
“Spinedrake cores give Flight,” I answered.
Vesma’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”
Kegohr cheered, heard his voice echo, and clamped his hand over his mouth with a horrified look. He handed me a core, and I took up a meditative position to absorb it.
The core disintegrated as the energy within swirled into my pool of Vigor. New channels branched out, burned with fire, and wrapped around my skeleton.
Immediately, Vesma went green as the Augmenter’s Sickness took over, and Kegohr snarled to himself as the dizzying effect rippled through him.
“Poor dears,” Nydarth observed. “So fragile.”
I meditated and made myself familiar with the new channels while the others battled with the sickness of absorbing monster cores.
After 10 minutes or so, Vesma and Kegohr were ready.
“How about we give it a try?” I asked.
Vesma frowned. “Inside?”
I gestured above. “The ceiling will prevent us from flying off into the clouds.”
“A drop from that high will probably still kill us,” Kegohr said, unsure.
“Not you,” Vesma said. “You would only break a few bones, but you would leave a crater in the floor. I doubt the monks would be happy about that.”
I laughed. “You two should quit talking and start Augmenting.”
I unsheathed the Sundered Heart and held it close to my side. Newborn channels flared to life at the touch of my fresh Vigor, and flames whirled around me in tight ribbons. My feet didn’t budge from the ground, but my body’s weight vanished. I tried an experimental jump in the air, and flaming ribbons bunched around my legs, letting me float for a second or two. I drifted slowly to the ground, like I was falling through honey instead of air. My sandals brushed the floor again, and I regathered my Vigor to my center once more.
Even that small defiance of gravity had cost me a large amount of Vigor.
“Not bad,” Vesma said with a small nod. “But I believe I can do better.”
Vesma used Untamed Torch to blast herself upward, then activated Flight as she started to fall. Streams of flames chased around her as she struggled to maintain the technique, and it cut out halfway down to the ground. She grunted as she landed on the floor on her hands and knees. Sweat streamed from her face as she dissipated the magic.
“Hells but that’s difficult,” Vesma panted. “How does Yo Hin do it?”
“Better question is how he managed to kill a spinedrake and take its core,” I said. “He was doing this at our initiate trials months ago.”
Kegohr grunted as he tried to maintain Flight around himself but he couldn’t even get off the ground. “He never spent that much time in weapons training, that’s for sure. Must have taken him ages to get this to work for him.”
I took a running jump and activated Flight again. Fire twisted around me, brushed the floor, and carried me over the ground. I stayed level in the air, but I couldn’t turn from side to side or hover in place. I cut the technique short before I would have crashed into the main altar.
“So, we can glide, but we can’t actually go up?” I asked Nydarth as I skidded to a halt.
“You all seem very excited to run before you can even crawl,” she answered, “let alone fly. Gather around, meditate, and try to lift yourself into the air by an inch. Calm, measured, and most of all, intentional.”
I returned to the others, and we began to practice. The Flight technique was a lot more complex than we had first anticipated. Vesma was the lightest out of the three of us, but even she struggled to lift her feet from the floor more than a quarter-inch. Kegohr fared the worst. His sheer size and weight was the biggest roadblock to take-off.
“We’re going about this the wrong way, aren’t we?” I asked Nydarth.
“No, sweet man, you are not. Flight gives you wings, and wings are useful for more than simply lifting yourself into the air. They can help you glide to a graceful landing, for example.” Nydarth made an amused sound. “You remind me of hatchlings fresh from their eggs.”
Kegohr stomped angrily on the floor. “Hells, this is hard.”
“We simply need to work at it,” Vesma said encouragingly. “It’s like anything else. From what I’ve seen, this is the kind of technique that even a Master takes years to learn properly. Yo Hin being the rare exception.”
“I think it comes down to the Vigor we’re using,” I said. “Our reserves aren’t large enough to use it consistently. Guildmaster Xilarion draws his power from his environment.”
“What about Yo Hin?” Kegohr asked.
Vesma shrugged. “Maybe he can do the same thing with
the environment that Xilarion can. But where would he have learned it?”
“Maybe the same place he acquired Flight technique,” I replied.
“Here?” Kegohr grunted.
“That would make Yo Hin centuries old,” Vesma said. “And he was the youngest out of all the initiates.”
“Stranger things have happened,” I said. “But let’s focus on our task.”
I projected my Vigor into the Flight technique again and lifted myself into the air by about three inches. The source of my power dwindled rapidly as I struggled to stay airborne. Nydarth chuckled in my head as I cut off the flow of Vigor and dropped to the floor again.
“If I can get off the ground, it’ll be a miracle,” Kegohr grumbled good-naturedly.
“Miracles occur every day,” said a stranger behind us.
The monk chuckled with a nasal twang as we turned to face him. He stood at around 6’2”. Gray stripes shot through his otherwise entirely white beard. Wiry muscle rippled over every inch of his frame as he gestured toward us with a smile.
“Breakfast is about to be served, esteemed guests. You would do us a great honor by sitting and eating with us.” He bowed with a practiced flourish and smiled again. “I am Archpriest Tymo. It is a pleasure to meet each of you.”
He led us to a door on the right. Kegohr’s stomach snarled audibly in the echoing hall, and he cringed as I shot him a grin. Augmenting was tough work, and it took a balanced diet, meditation, and focus to truly reach your potential in the art. My own gut growled at me as we followed Tymo into a low-ceilinged room. Red tapestries hung from every wall, and dozens of medallions and bells dangled from the roof above the table. The table itself was very long, low, and there were no signs of chairs or even cushions anywhere.
Kumi, Mahrai, and Faryn greeted us with smiles as we filed through the doorway. Kegohr struggled to fit his massive legs under him as he sat down beside Vesma. Kumi leaned back for a kiss as I passed, and I obliged her before settling down between Faryn and Mahrai.
Tymo the Archpriest sat at the head of the table. He turned, picked up a tiny wooden mallet, and struck a gong beside him. Ten monks appeared and ducked through the doorway to the dining room, each carrying wide trays of steaming rice, noodle soup, and ornate teapots accompanied by small cups.
