by Tom Hansen
She turned away from him, but not before he noticed a pained expression on her face. “It’s when the tools gain sentience that we must worry.”
“What?” How could a tool gain sentience?
She spun back around, grabbing the bo and handing it to him.
“I came back after twenty years. I moved back here after conferring with the Chieftain in the Plains. I asked to be allowed to live here and toil for the betterment of my race, but I refused to go to war. Both he and my mother understood, so I came here.”
She paced back and forth, and Scarhoof palmed the bo feeling its heft and balance.
“My time spent with the Litlins changed me. I abhor violence. I do realize that sometimes a singular fierce act of violence can bring balance. I want you to remember that, Scarhoof. Seek to be a healer, a mender of past wrongs, but don’t be afraid to use decisive action. That is the way of the Shaman.”
Holding the bo in his hands made him feel like he should spin it, so he did. It felt good spinning the weapon in his hands, like it was a weapon meant to be in motion and not holstered.
Just like his fight with the Kobolds earlier, drills he hadn’t done in decades came back to him with surprising ease. He fell into the speed and rhythms as the staff twirled about him.
Nitene watched him intently, focusing mostly on his hands. She pointed. “There, see where you put your hand underneath to grab? Flip your palm like this and roll the bo over the back of your hand.”
She demonstrated, and Scarhoof tried, nearly dropping the bo. Immediately he recognized why she recommended it. By doing it this way, he was able to get his hand into a better position to keep the bo twirling for longer.
After a few more revolutions, he had reduced the number of hand changes in half while maintaining the speed of the spinning staff.
Nitene’s face wore a melancholy expression. “Trouble is brewing out there, Matuk. Trouble that I have seen with my own eyes.”
He stopped spinning the bo, but she waved at him to start again. “It is good that you learn to do more than just spin, you should be able to carry on conversations and think through mathematical calculations while doing this. Your life may someday require your ability to concentrate on more than one thing at a time.”
“Tell me more about your time with the Litlins, then.”
She smiled. “Very well. They live high up, mostly inside the mountain. They are very good diggers, nearly as efficient as the Dwarves. While the Dwarves use manual labor for their digging, the Litlins use explosives and machines.”
He furrowed his brow at some of the words. “What are explosives?” In his mind he thought he knew what she was talking about, even envisioning a red stick with a string coming out of it, but try as he might, he couldn’t place where he knew that image.
Her mouth quirked, like she was trying to decide if she would tell him. Or maybe it was how to tell him.
“They are chemical mixtures that can cause a lot of damage. An explosive can shatter a rock into a million pieces.”
“For a pacifist race, they seem awfully destructive.”
She sighed, like recognizing a truth she hadn’t wanted to admit. “Yes, but it’s all relative.” She pointed out to the ocean shoreline. “Take the crabs that come into the beach at night. Would you step on one?”
He turned to look, barely making out the ghostly outlines of the red-shelled creatures that were sacred to the Havren. To harm one was sacrilege. “Of course not. They are the blessed offspring of the Havren.”
“Correct, but if you didn’t know how sacred they were, you might think they were simply a snack. What about the gulls that come down from the air and eat the crabs?”
This question took him a second to process, but he thought he had a good answer to it. “They aren’t smart. They don’t know what they are doing is bad.”
“I think you mean sentient. Smart is an indicator of intelligence. But the crabs being eaten by the gulls still affects the Havren, right? If each of them is one of their offspring, wouldn’t a mother or a father of that crab be grief-stricken to know that their offspring were being eaten by a bird?”
She took a few steps forward and snatched spinning the bo from his hands, maintaining the speed without so much as a hitch. “Yet if you killed one of those crabs there would be consequences. If a bird did it, it’s simply survival. Each of you have a different perspective on life, and different priorities.
“The Litlins are much the same. We live on a desert plain near an ocean. They live atop a peak. They can only see the ocean via a looking glass. Their lives are vastly different from ours and they have different priorities. Yet, of all the races in the Collective, the Litlins may be closer to us than any of them, at least in terms of philosophy.”
She finished spinning the bo and held it to her side. “It’s a lesson for you to remember. Sometimes, different races, cultures, genders, even different Tau’raj, do things because at the time they felt their actions were justified. If you hadn’t eaten in a month, and you saw one of those crabs lying there, you might be tempted to eat it if there was no other way to survive.”
She gave him a stern look, stepped closer. “Remember that lesson. Do not be so quick to judge another’s actions simply because you do not understand her motivations.”
He nodded slowly, still unsure exactly what she meant but determined to remember it as best he could.
She tossed the bo at him. “We need to go over some basics with the weapon. I can see you have had some training, but this weapon will be your main one for a very long time, so it is best to start from the beginning once again.”
He nodded, looking at the bo’s tight grain in the moonlight. “What do you want me to do?”
“Try to hit me,” she said with a grin.
Chapter 13
Scarhoof felt dead. In fact, he hoped to die with as hard and furious as she trained him. For over an hour, Nitene drilled him on math, science, and philosophy while having him spin, thrust, dance, and swing the bo.
He lay on his back, watching the moon inch higher in the sky. He had been up to work the fields before sunup this morning. And here he was, staying up way too late and working far too hard.
“You did a very good job. Your training is going well.”
“Only if you don’t kill me.”
His Stamina was drained, it had been so for the last half hour, and damage slowly ticked down his health.
She watched him for a moment, her face clearly looking back through history. “I knew an Engineer once, a real master at his craft. No one else competed, no one compared, and everyone wanted to study under him. Every ten years, he closed his workshop to travel to the training grounds for the level one Engineers and sought out the same instructors that taught the newbies to the craft. He asked them to teach him again, from the beginning. At first they would turn him away, saying that he knew more than them, but eventually, he found someone who agreed to be his teacher, and wouldn’t coddle him because of his previous experience. He started from level one again, re-learning all his skills from the beginning. Of course he progressed faster than all the other students, but lesson is there if you are open to it.”
He looked up at her. “Are you kidding me? The barn is in better shape than me right now. I’m starting from less than zero here. Level negative five maybe?”
She cast a healing over time spell on him before watching him for a while. “You can’t progress unless you break down the old you and build up a new you. I need to go inside and check something. You rest up. I’ll be back with food.”
He didn’t want to move—really, he couldn’t, since his Stamina was in such dire straights—but it eventually started to increase and he was able to sit up again.
Knowing he would regret it if he didn’t, Scarhoof stretched, to get all the knots out of his sore muscles. Nitene’s long rejuvenation spell had run out so he healed himself to full again and continued to stretch out his legs, arms, and lower back. Before too long, he was
fully back to his spry self.
“Oh, good, you’re up. Perfect timing too.”
Nitene had changed clothes. She had replaced her leather shirt and skirt with a more ornamental and ceremonial garb.
“I guess I won’t be going to bed tonight anyway. I forgot about the bonfire.”
She smirked. “While you were doing your exercises, I had a chance to think, and I just finished mediating on it.”
The stern but jovial Shaman Trainer now had a serious and concerned expression.
He recognized the mood shift immediately. “You have a quest for me, don’t you?”
Her mouth quirked before she responded. “More of a question first. When you were in the Kobold cave, did you happen to see any shards, perhaps one embedded in the Nagos or the Kobold king?”
The question caught him off guard, and he chastised himself for not making the same connection. So far, he had fought a feral boar, with a small shard embedded in the base of its skull.
Then he fought two Kobolds with the same white eyes and white powder on their faces, both feral. They, as he knew now, had drunk the shardwater he’d been given in the cave.
That shardwater had to come from somewhere, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to have to go find it. The disguise wouldn’t work a second time though.
He shook his head in answer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see one, but I think I know what you are getting at, and I agree. There has to be a shard inside that Kobold cave.”
She nodded, deep in thought. “Then you know what I must ask of you, will you go to the Kobold cave and recover that shard? It’s vital that we study its effects. We also need to know why it doesn’t seem to affect you, but it hurts me. Having both shards might allow me to begin to see similarities.”
Quest Update! A Spreading Sickness:
Nitene needs you to retrieve the shard from Misty Cave. (Gained 50 XP!)
“Well, that’s interesting, because I have a similar quest for you, Scarhoof.”
They both spun around at the ancient voice. Eldermother stood in the back doorway of Nitene’s hut, bathed in moonlight and looking pale and ominous with the darkness behind her.
She stepped out of the hut and into the field. “The threat of the Kobolds attacking is simply too great, Scarhoof.” She turned to Nitene. “Please forgive me child, but I think prudence is needed in this matter.”
Nitene gave her a curious look, but Eldermother turned back to him. “A strike at the heart of the problem will be the best choice here. Better for one to lose his life than many to lose theirs.”
Nitene stepped forward. “What are you asking him to do, mother?”
“I want him to kill the Kobold king and the Nagos. Killing them is the key to releasing the others from the grasp of whatever spell they are under. Plus you can retrieve that shard for Nitene.” She turned back to Scarhoof. “I want the head of the Nagos.”
Quest Update! Killer Kobolds:
Eldermother has asked you to kill the Kobold King to release the minions from the shard’s grasp. (Gained 50 XP!)
Quest Update! Mysterious Blue Scale:
Eldermother has asked you to kill the Nagos who is hiding in the Misty Cave and bring his head back to her. (Gained 50 XP!)
The words hit Scarhoof like a load of stones. He thought about the Nagos in the cave, and how he’d towered over him. He wasn’t powerful enough to take on the king, let alone the Nagos. Even with the new spells in his arsenal and the newfound bo skills, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
However, he couldn’t let Sonvey’s death and Kardkaw’s injuries go unchallenged. Even if it meant his own death, he needed to do this. So far, the Nagos had been pulling all the strings, starting all the battles, but no longer.
This time Scarhoof would initiate the attack. This time, vengeance for his fallen brethren would come.
His new training would help. He stood a chance if he utilized all of his skills. Tendrils could keep one rooted in place while he dodged another, but then again, all the Kobolds in the room would be too many for him to overcome. There were too many unknowns.
The fear inside him continued to churn. He wanted to kill the Nagos, but he didn’t think he could take on everything by himself, and Nitene’s admonitions hung heavy in his mind.
“Of course, I will do this, but as much as this Nagos infiltrator deserves to die, I truly don’t think I have the power to perform such deeds. I will do it, though. Nothing will stop me from trying.”
Guilt surged through his mind. He was angry. Angry at himself for not being more prepared, not seeing the clues earlier, and not warning his fellow guards.
He should have been there for them, but if this mission absolved him of some of that guilt, then he would do it. Kardkaw would soon recover from his wounds and at least one of the three would continue protecting the cove.
He expected a retort, a flash of anger, but what he got instead was a wry smile from Eldermother.
“I thought you would say that.” She turned her head towards the doorway of Nitene’s hut, then yelled a singular word.
“Xanovi!”
Both Scarhoof and Nitene followed her sightline to the doorway where a large Tau’raj stood in shadow. Below his knees, a form with piercing red eyes shuffled side to side in the darkness.
The Tau’raj took a step forward, into the moonlight where they could finally get a good look at him.
He was a large bull. Taller than Scarhoof by at least two hands. His broad shoulders and arms looked like they had seen many a battle, as he was riddled with scars. His left arm was covered in intricate tattoos from the shoulder to his hand. His hide was a pinto light brown, and two massive white horns pointing up and forward. Both were tipped with metal.
Across his back was slung a massive longbow. He wore a Stetson hat pulled down over his eyes with cutouts for his horns. On the end of his snout was the largest brass nostril ring Scarhoof had ever seen.
A boar followed behind him. It looked just like the boars Scarhoof had killed earlier in that day in the fields, except that it had red glowing eyes, instead of white.
The bull bowed slightly to Nitene and nodded to Scarhoof.
“How y’all doing? My name is Xanovi Softjumper.”
The bull’s voice was deep and Scarhoof thought he could recognize the baritone of this bull. It was familiar, but he couldn’t immediately place it.
Nitene smiled at the newcomer. “Xanovi.”
“Nitene.”
Eldermother spoke up. “Xanovi has been a wonderful help lately, and I think the two of you should team up for this next quest.”
Scarhoof finally remembered meeting Xanovi around the barn when he had interrupted his investigation. He hadn’t immediately recognized him in the shadow, but he now recognized him. Great, first he interrupts my investigation, now I have to partner with him?
Eldermother took a couple steps closer to Scarhoof, placing her wrinkled hands on his forearm. Her touch was warm and calming. She always seemed to know the best thing to do.
“I knew this task would be too great for you, and I’m very proud of you for recognizing that. Too often we let our own hubris get in the way of true greatness. We lose much when we choose to live lonely lives instead of inviting others to share in our burdens. We would all be better if we thought like you, Scarhoof.”
She gave him a warm smile, but her eyes were serious. She seemed to stare directly into his soul. “Do not underestimate your own value.”
She let go of his forearm, and a sudden rush of blood and feeling made him realize that she had been gripping his arm much harder than he thought. Her eyes blazed with a fiery fervor that had his mane standing on edge. She took a long, deep breath in, then her face softened, and she stepped back.
A new prompt Scarhoof had never seen before popped up.
Party Invite: Xanovi Softjumper wishes to form a party. Do you accept?
Scarhoof didn’t quite know what was going on. What had just happened between him and Eld
ermother? Why was she so intense, gripping his arm so much it was now sore? He accepted the party request and icons for both bulls appeared, so he could monitor Xanovi’s statistics.
“Wonderful!” Eldermother clapped her hands then looked up at the sky. “The moon is nearly at its apex, and I think it would be better to deal with this threat before that happens. You two better get going if you are going to take out the Nagos before then.”
Scarhoof nodded once to Eldermother, then again to Xanovi. “I suppose we should depart. Are you prepared?”
Xanovi gave him a curious expression, then said. “Let’s skedaddle.”
They headed for Misty Cave. Xanovi took the lead and the boar followed them.
Xanovi must have caught Scarhoof’s expression because he whistled. “Come on, Widget. Get on over here!”
The boar scurried to catch up.
“Is he your pet?” Scarhoof finally asked just as they were leaving the village.
Xanovi turned and walked backwards. “Sure is, failed the quest but managed to get him. Pretty sure he’s the only tamable in this zone.”
“You failed the quest so that you could tame the boar for your pet?”
Xanovi clicked his tongue and pointed at Scarhoof then turned back around and kept walking toward the cave.
Scarhoof wondered what kind of response that was to a simple question but didn’t think he’d get a better answer. They jogged in silence for a while as he looked over the new party interface.
He was able to see all three of their health bars, including the boar named Widget, who’s stat bars were a little smaller than either of theirs. There was an option to expand it to be the same size and in line with the others, but Scarhoof left it smaller, more attached to Xanovi’s portrait.
