by J. T. Wright
Trent’s mood took a dip as Cullen once again pushed in on his awareness. He’d gone a whole day without wondering what the Sergeant and Tersa were doing. It had occurred to him that Cullen would be better than Jeb for this morning’s training, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Uh, Trent, we've got a problem.” Jeb glanced around and saw his way out of training and back into his blankets. “Need a spear or two to learn how to–”
Three long poles, the ends of which had been wrapped in padding and cloth thumped to the ground at his feet.
“I thought you might say that,” Geisel said from the fire, “so I got those ready for you.”
“Damned nice of you, Gran,” Jeb said through gritted teeth. “Never knew you cared so much. You boys grab those, and we'll head… We'll stay right here, not near enough light except by the pit. We won’t be in your way, will we, Gran?”
“Not at all, Jeb Miller.” Geisel tossed a handful of powder into what was left of the fire and the huge pit flared to life, illuminating their surroundings. “I look forward to seeing you enlighten the next generation.”
“Uh, why do I need to be a part of this?” Kerry asked sullenly. “I don’t use a spear.”
“You ain’t foolin’ no one, Kerry boy,” Jeb sneered, picking up a practice pole and poking at Kerry’s middle. “You don’t use any weapons. Don’t think I haven’t heard about that bit of shit! Learning the spear will be good for you, but if you can produce another weapon, any weapon at all, feel free to employ it!”
Kerry was still drowsy as he grabbed a pole and stood. He listened with half an ear as Jeb walked them through how to hold the weapon and then how to stand. He poked at the air when Jeb said to thrust and lunged in small steps when the Farmer barked. There was no point to the exercises that he could see, and he couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for the drills.
Trent demonstrated why this was a poor attitude when the time came to spar. He had soaked up the lessons like a field long denied water, and he had always approached weapons’ training like it was a life or death situation. Because it was. When he came at Kerry, he held nothing back, only pausing to help Kerry back to his feet when his partner fell.
Which Kerry did, and often. Trent started to think Kerry was practicing tumbling more than he was the spear, and he approved. Falling was a difficult skill to master, and Kerry did need the practice. He always went down hard and never got up quickly enough. Trent did wish Kerry would stay on his feet a little longer. It wasn’t necessary to fold up like that every time you got poked in the ribs.
“Well, Trent at least seems to have a handle on the fundamentals,” Jeb said, calling a halt to the activities as the sun started its climb into the sky. “Kerry, have you considered taking up farming? You seem to like the dirt.”
“Har, hardy, har, old man. If my ribs weren’t already busted, they’d break now. You’re the funniest man alive.” Kerry rolled over on to his stomach and pressed his face against the grass. “Are we done?”
“You are, Kerry boy,” Jeb said, rolling his shoulders. “It’s my turn now. Trent needs polishing that he's not going to get tickling you. Now, Trent…”
For the first time that morning, Trent wasn’t paying attention to Jeb’s instructions. He held the Common Skill Stone clutched in his hand and was squeezing it for all he was worth. When the egg-shaped Stone crumbled in his grip and a new Skill added itself to his Status, he almost collapsed with relief.
“If you had the Stone, why are we doing this the hard way?” Jeb grumbled, irritated. “Could have got hours more sleep. Why does a Swordsman need to learn the spear anyway?”
“Because he’s more than a Swordsman, you daft thing,” Geisel answered for Trent. “You should keep that in mind if you plan on facing him yourself.”
Jeb waved away her warning and squared off in front of Trent, who was slowly going through the motions he had just learned. “Let’s see what you've got, Trent boy, and don’t worry if…”
Jeb had only met a handful of men in his life who could use a spear as well as he could. Mostly they were older Guardsmen, career soldiers. There had been one young man who had given him a run for his money, but Francis had been an exceptional Recruit. Watching Trent get excited learning from a Stone, he didn’t count the boy among the Spearmen he needed to be careful of.
A Common Skill offered no bonuses to Damage. Hardly anyone chose to learn them, and they were only useful when Basic Skills were not available. The Stone that Trent prized held the rudimentary movements of the spear and couldn’t even be called a Technique. With that Skill under his belt, could Trent even be called a Spearman? A Farmer with a hoe would be more dangerous.
Jeb was shortsighted. The first thrust Trent sent at him was stiff. The second flowed into a butt strike, which had the former soldier hopping. The series of jabs that came at his face made Jeb look as clumsy as Kerry, and for the first time, Jeb realized he had to take things seriously.
There were no words of instruction as poles clashed and feet stomped. Trent was beyond the need for teaching; he just had to combine what he had gained with the real-world lessons he had earned in combat. Jeb could practically see Trent’s Skill increasing, and it terrified him.
Jeb had trained Recruits as a Guardsman, and he put the Militia members through their paces once a week, now that he was a Farmer. There was no rust on this old man, but he had never once seen an Awakened take to a Skill this fast. Trent was still miles behind him, and he had no real difficulty holding the younger man back once his shock wore off, but with time and practice, Jeb could see their positions switching.
A straight thrust, stronger and faster than any previously sent his way, rushed for his stomach, and Jeb stepped out of the way. The pole tugged at his shirt before he caught the shaft in his hand and held it fast, bringing a stop to the match. That had been a Skilled strike, which was only possible if…
“Basic Spear?” He asked dumbfounded, and Trent nodded. “How is that possible? You just learned the common moves! It’s been less than an hour…”
He cleared his throat and coughed into his hand. “It’s bad form to use a Skilled Strike without warning, kid! Someone could get hurt!”
“Didn’t seem to bother you when it was me getting hit, Jeb,” Kerry offered from the side. He tossed a rock at Jeb’s ankles which the Farmer blocked with his pole.
“Neither here nor there, Kerry boy!” Jeb spat and tugged at his beard. “But I think we’re done for the day. I think I just witnessed a miracle. The morning’s too young and I'm too old for miracles. My heart won’t take it.”
“Breakfast then?” Kerry looked fervent for the first time since his abrupt wake-up call. “Who's cooking?”
**********
The answer was Elder Geisel. She supplied the vegetables, utensils, and seasonings and volunteered to prepare a meal with only a minimal amount of complaint. Trent brought out slabs of meat to add to the morning’s offerings, and when the smell of cooked Dire Bear roused the other sleeping celebrants from their unnatural slumber in a way the sound of mock combat hadn’t, he joined Geisel in her grumbling. Neither of them had anticipated feeding more than fifty farm brats, all of whom were keen to show off the legendary appetite of those who worked the land.
The taste of Geisel’s cooking silenced Trent’s disgruntled comments, and Geisel’s were only murmured because people expected it of her. She had been feeding Farmers since Al'drossford was a military outpost made of wood. It didn’t bother her, truly.
It was still early when the locals left for home, and Trent and Kerry said their goodbyes. By Kerry’s reckoning, there was no need to rush back to Bellrise. They could take their time and still beat the majority of the town’s Adventurers to the Dungeon. Bellrise wasn’t what you would call a fast-paced place.
It was a point he tried to make to Trent several times, but Trent was well rested and a step closer to leveling Survivalist. With Quests in his Status and Dreq trotting at his heels, Trent saw no reason to dela
y the exploration of the Trial that had been calling to him for days!
“Well, at least explain why we, why I, had to endure that torture back there?” Kerry huffed, referring to Jeb’s instruction in the ancient art of the spear. “Are you a Swordsman or not? Why does a Swordsman need to learn to use anything other than a sword?”
“A Swordsman doesn’t, I do.” Trent reached out a hand and steadied Kerry as the bulky youth once again tripped over nothing. “Are you sure you should be going into the Trial? You seem…”
Trent searched for a polite way to say it and finally settled on, “You’re clumsier than a drunk, pregnant sow!”
Cullen had used that phrase to describe Trent once, and upon seeing the dirty look Kerry threw at him, Trent realized it might not be a very nice thing to say.
“I'm not so sow-like with my armor on!” Kerry said defensively, before adding, “Benefits of the Heavy Armor Skill!”
“Then, you should wear your armor all the time.” To Trent, this was just good sense. He had already put the Witching Hour armor back on. Dreq barked his agreement with Trent’s statement as he rushed ahead to avoid Kerry’s lumbering feet.
“Maybe I should,” Kerry admitted. The walls of Bellrise were getting larger as they approached, and Kerry felt a pit grow in his stomach. “About the Dungeon, you'll really go in with me?”
Trent shrugged. “Sure, it’s always better to have an extra set of eyes.”
“Then, you should know, I'm a member of a chartered party.” Kerry watched for Trent’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.
“Why should I know that?”
“Because, ah, the others… we've been looking for a Rogue.” Kerry rubbed the back of his neck. “The others are busy for the next few days, but when they’re available, they’ll probably want to work with you too. They will want you to sign before we go in with them, so we can share XP, and there’s no question of loot division.”
The charter didn’t allow Kerry to discourage Trent from signing outright. Kerry could only prepare Trent carefully and hope that Trent recognized the pitfalls to the charter when he read it himself.
“Go back in? Why would I clear a Trail twice? And I'm not a Rogue!” It was Trent’s turn to be stumped. Trials were meant to be challenged, but there were so many to be discovered. There was a whole world to explore. Though he might not know exactly what the future held, from Trent’s perspective, it was a waste to repeatedly clear the same Trial. “Can’t we share XP this way?”
He extended an invitation to Kerry through his Leadership Skill. Kerry checked the notification in his Status without thinking. “There are five floors to the Dungeon. It’s not like we can clear all five with just the two of us. Even with Jace and Holly, we’re a long way from… you have the Leadership Skill?”
Kerry stopped abruptly, swaying in place. Trent kept walking, not answering the question. It was obvious he had the Leadership Skill. If Kerry didn’t trust what his Status told him, nothing Trent could say was more dependable.
Kerry watched Trent’s back and then read the invitation to join Trent’s party once more. With Leadership, Detect Traps, and a Specialized Class, Kerry felt that Trent was more a mystery all the time. He accepted the invite after a moment, not noticing that the Dog, Dreq, was already a party member.
Whatever happened, he had to keep Trent away from Jace. Away from Jace and close to himself. Within Trent’s confident strides, Kerry saw his ticket out of the mess he had created for himself. He just had to be smart about it.
Twenty-Seven
They had to stop at the Academy to retrieve Kerry’s armor. Leaving Trent at the school’s gate, Kerry promised he wouldn’t be more than a handful of minutes. Trent presented an odd sight to the few students who walked by him as he leaned against the wall and entertained Dreq with a game Evelyn had taught the pup.
A man playing fetch with his Dog wasn’t so unusual. When that man was dressed in fine leather armor and masked, it was a touch suspicious. What really shocked the students was the casual way Trent tossed the Beast tooth for Dreq to retrieve.
Beast parts were not toys. In the student’s eyes, Trent was throwing money on the street, and Dreq’s teeth were damaging valuable crafting materials. It was the silver of coin and not the white of a tooth that flew through the air as the students watched. Several thought of trying to snatch the tooth for themselves before Dreq could run to it. There was something in the way Trent rested his left hand on the hilt of his knife that kept their greed in check.
Slightly more than a handful of minutes went by before Kerry reappeared, adjusting his pauldrons and gauntlets while tightening his helm. A tower shield hung on his left arm and clanked against the steel of his greaves as he walked. It was true that he was nimbler in armor than he was out, and combined with his size, there were some who found the sight of Kerry intimidating.
Trent was not one of those. He was distinctly unimpressed upon seeing the spots of rust and dents in Kerry’s protective gear. The armor was big and heavy, but cheap and poorly maintained. Trent could empathize with the dents. There had been a time when his own equipment had been scarred enough to be nearly useless. But the rust? Trent found the sight of a problem that could be cured with a bit of oil and patience distasteful.
“What do you think?” Kerry came to a stop and flipped the visor of his helm up. “Not as pretty as your leather, but it’s got its own flair, right?” He hefted his shield so that Trent could get a good look at the rectangular monstrosity that was almost as tall as he was.
“It looks like armor,” Trent agreed neutrally, rapping his knuckles against Kerry’s breastplate. “Can you run in that?”
“Run? Why would I need to run? There’s nothing on the first two floors that can breach this!” It was a subject that Kerry had hoped to avoid. He could run for a short distance, but his Heavy Armor Skill was only at Level 3. It would have to reach Level 6 before it started to reduce the weight he carried.
“So, no, huh?” Trent reached and retrieved the tooth he’d been throwing for Dreq. “Can Beasts on the third floor get through metal?”
“There are acid spitters on the third floor sometimes. We shouldn’t need to worry about them.” In Kerry’s opinion, they wouldn’t reach the first-floor Guardian on this delve.
“You also forgot your weapon,” Trent observed, shouldering his pack after pretending to toss Dreq’s toy into it.
Trent had noticed it was missing when Kerry stomped up. There was a broad leather belt wrapped around his waist, and a bag too large to be called a pouch hung at his side, but Trent saw no weapons anywhere on Kerry’s body. There wasn’t so much as a carving knife unless Kerry had it hidden in his satchel.
“A shield can be a weapon! It’s a bug Dungeon; nothing like a heavy plate to deal with bugs!” Kerry smashed the edge of his shield against the ground to demonstrate.
“True enough. A feather can be a weapon, if you’re strong enough.” Trent tossed that bit of wisdom over his shoulder. Somehow, he had known what Kerry was going to say, and he was starting to see problems arising from agreeing to work with the iron clad Warrior.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I'm strong, I’m plenty strong, you just wait and… you just wait up.” Slapping his visor down, Kerry rushed to catch the dwindling form of Trent. “It’s not fun to run in this! Slow down!”
To reach the Dungeon entrance from the Academy dorms, they had to pass by the Guildhall and go through the market square. Kerry might have been forced to jog the whole way, but the market was busier today than it had been the last time Trent went through. Kerry managed to catch up when Trent stopped to look over the goods a green-robed girl had displayed on a blanket.
There were always a few students who set up shop in the square, selling things they made themselves or found in the Dungeon. Today the market had been taken over by the Academy Mages. When Kerry, panting from exertion, stopped beside Trent and flipped his visor back up, he was surprised to see nearly every Mage he knew
had spread a blanket to hawk their wares.
Trent stifled a sigh when Kerry rested the edge of his shield on the ground with a bang. It wasn’t his place to tell Kerry he would never get used to the weight of the tower shield if he leaned against it all the time. Besides, what was on the blanket was far more interesting.
“Are these Charms?” He asked breathlessly. “Why do they look like that?”
Trent had seen Spell Stones before. They weren’t much different than Skill Stones, and it was only with Appraisal that he could tell them apart. He was confused because it wasn’t Stones heaped in six different piles on the blanket. Spell Stones were spherical in shape; these were more like faceted cylinders and much too small. The brightly colored crystals were the length and width of his little finger.
“You’ve got it right. They’re the finest Charms in Bellrise!” The Mage’s voice was chipper as Trent picked up a crystal holding the Light Charm and pushed back his mask to examine it more closely. “I'm only asking five… ten silver apiece! I can give you a discount if you buy–"
“Piss off, Maryann! Ten silvers for a charm! Three coppers is being generous for the trash you have here.” Kerry had been drinking from his canteen when Maryann announced her price, and he almost choked when he heard her ask for silver.
Kerry had separated from Trent before Trent visited the market on the day they met. He had no idea the lasting impression Trent had left on the vendors during his shopping spree. Maryann hadn’t been present either, but there weren’t many masked adventures with dogs, grossly overpaying for everything, wandering around Bellrise. She heard the stories and, seeing Trent crouch down at her blanket, she thought her fortune had come in.
“What would you know, Kerry? These are quality goods, I made myself,” Maryann hissed. “What are you even doing here dressed like that? Isn’t the rest of your team part of the field exercises? Shouldn’t you be obediently shoveling dung?”
“For your information, my friend and I are planning a delve,” Kerry said importantly. “And my business is none of yours. What are you doing here? In fact, what is everyone doing here? It looks like half the Academy is franticly selling every piece of junk they own!”
