Clear as

Crystal

Silas Keplar

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Cover Art by:

James Kim

Freelance Concept Artist/Illustrator

Edited by:  K. Ecclestone

Freelance Editor (Upwork)

Originally Published by Silas Keplar

Copyright © July 2022

ISBN: 978-1-990164-22-4

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Emerge and serve me, Immortal one!

A feverish light burned in Akuje’s eyes as he threw his arms wide. He fell to his knees inside the power circle that he had etched into the rock floor of the shrine.

Standing over his left shoulder, Tarou spun in slow circles, his eyes wide as he heard cracks rippling through the stone walls of the structure around them. “Wh-what… what have we done? We’re calling on powers we don’t understand!” He slammed the ancient book he was clutching down on the ground, a tome dug from the tomb of an ancient sorcerer nearly a decade earlier.

“He’s right,” Rikotu whispered fiercely from his spot over Akuje’s other shoulder, fear crackling in every word. “This is insane. How do we know these spell components are real? How do we know we bought real dragon’s dung? Or that the elven starshine water came from a real reflecting pool?”

“Enough!” Akuje roared. “The ritual is complete. It is too late for your mewling regrets!” Some small part of him wanted to take back the words; these were his two closest friends, men who had helped him steal the gold from his family’s coffers and cover evidence of the theft. They had traveled all over the world to assemble the components. Together, they had hand-built the very shrine in which they stood to enable this magical formula. But that tiny part of him was overshadowed by the exultant joy he felt as a spark of bright-red fire flared to life inside the silver ring embedded in the slanted wall in front of him. “We can’t walk away now. This is everything we’ve ever dreamed of having!”

Tarou balked, taking a fearful step back. “No! This is your dream. And it’s twisting into a nightmare!”

With the caution of a man who was beginning to suspect he was dealing with an unhinged madman, Rikotu urged, “There’s a reason only powerful Wizards perform this level of magic, Akuje. We’re cheating the gods in some way. They’ll be angry!”

“Nonsense! Do you know how long it took me to interpret those runes?” Akuje gestured wildly at the chamber around them. “To scratch these symbols into the walls! Such agonizing work to make every mark perfect. It isn’t deceit. It is discipline! That’s the secret those damned magic users won’t tell us. The secret they hold so close!”

He turned his face back up to the silver gateway opening upon the wall. “I call on you again, Baleronazva! Step out from the hidden realm of the fae and walk upon our mortal world!”

The blistering fire within the ring swirled to greater life. Huge tongues of flame licked out from within while another shudder quaked the earth beneath their feet. A meaty hand reached out through the fire. The limb that followed was massive, as large as any ogre’s arm. The emerging creature clenched that hand into a fist, and the flames erupting from the portal turned into a storm of green fire, billowing over the whole chamber. It struck the circle protecting the trio, deflecting around them and scouring the walls.

“Stop this madness!” Tarou begged.

“These are forces beyond our ken!” Rikotu yelled.

“Cease your prattling. Now is our time!” Akuje sneered into the vaults of his mind. Stop now? On the very precipice of our victory? Never. Let them shit in their trousers while I take what is rightfully mine!

A second massive hand reached through the opened portal. Together, the two hands wrapped over the silver frame. The inhumanly strong fingertips crunched into the stone as it started to haul the rest of its body through.

That was too much for Akuje’s friends. They both met each other’s eyes, then bolted toward the archway leading out. Akuje snorted in contempt, making no effort to stop them. As soon as they crossed the boundary of the circle, a fresh storm of hellish fire ripped along the walls and incinerated them. The attack wasn’t guided by Akuje, but the twisted mindset growing inside him felt no guilt or grief as they were burned into nothing. When the ruby fire receded, all that remained of them were two ashen tags indicating the aggravated damage that had killed them. They wavered in the smoky air and then slowly faded into nothing.

{-3291}

* Dead *

{-3189}

* Dead *

Akuje’s gaze fixated on the gate, bending his whole will to keeping it open. The holy water of the ocean and water god, Hulltarm, boiled out of its ivory vessel, and then the ivory bowl itself melted into slag and vanished like smoke. The flesh he had carved off a volcano troll was reduced to ash. One by one, the various compounds he had gathered to fuel this spell sizzled and vaporized all around him, thus creating the necessary power to break the natural laws of the world. The last to go was the centerpiece of it all, a spear tip stolen from the most sacred temple of Aufflasiss, the Gnollish God. The artifact burned like a star, incinerating as the ritual ripped the Divine power away from it and gave Akuje the power he wouldn’t have otherwise possessed.

The creature continued its emergence. One of its clawed feet braced on the ring like stepping over a high barricade. With a final surge, it leapt through and fell from the ring, landing in a deep crouch in front of Akuje. His eyes went wide in awe, but he refused to flinch away from the otherworldly being.

This wasn’t a demon. Calling forth the servants of any god, good or evil, took even more elaborate spells, major sacrifices, or profuse faith. But an outside observer might be forgiven for believing the fiery creature was born of the underworlds. Its entire body was smoky grey, with lines of magma etched over its skin in place of veins. The riot of hair erupting off its head was akin to a spill of lava bursting from beneath the earth, the ends of each strand producing wisps of superheated steam.

Not a demon, Akuje whispered reverently in his mind, but a Djinn from the realms of fae, the wild lands from which all monsters are born! I’ve done it. I’ve drawn one of the princes of that realm here to do my bidding!

Once fully erect and having squared its shoulders, the Djinn looked down on the comparatively fragile human from a ten-foot height, its entire form made of craggy muscles that simmered with the raw energy bundled inside. When it spoke, the chamber shook. “Your fragile shell is not ready for this trial.”

Akuje’s pride was stung. That banished his first impulse to be deferential to the great being. He darted to his feet, deepening his voice so it didn’t sound so squeaky next to the Djinn’s bass rumble. “I am the one who cast the spell. I have bound you to my service. I demand my due!”

The Djinn scanned around, giving the impression he was testing the integrity of the spell, then betrayed a hint of surprise that the foolish human had indeed satisfied all the requirements of the binding magic. “The power you seek is a volatile and dangerous one. A wise mortal would surrender his hold on me and allow me to step back into my realm.”

“With my hands empty? Nonsense!” Akuje took firm hold of his courage. This was no mere imp or mindless scatterling who would follow his every command. This was a mighty lord of the fae, no doubt full of deceit. I won’t let its trickery deter me! He steeled his spine and demanded, “You have the power of wishing magic. Render it unto me! What is my lot? Three asks? But one? Must I say it all in one breath or can a string of sentences be used? What are my limits? I’ve heard we can neither ask for love nor –”

The booming guffaw that echoed from the Djinn was rich with mockery, almost insulted to find its summoner spouting such buffoonery. “What simpleton myths have you heard to believe such things? Have you no inkling of what powers you seek to possess? Have you cast this magic in ignorant isolation without consulting past masters or sages who have managed to bind one of my kind?”

Once again, Akuje’s injured pride served him poorly, feeding his anger instead of allowing reasoned consideration to win out. “Explain it then!”

“When I merge with you, mortal, you will have my powers for the span of a single day. Whatever wishes you form in that time shall become reality.”

Akuje exulted at the idea. “Incredible! I feared I would not be able to realize all my dreams!”

Noting that his warning had fallen badly on Akuje’s ears, the Djinn rumbled additional caution, “Wizards of great wisdom who have summoned me in the past have spent the entirety of their day in deep meditation, meticulously crafting but a single wish with the precision of a sculptor to ensure there were no unintended consequences. For while I shall not seek to poison your intent, the world is a complicated tapestry. Wish magic has the power to unmake it and see it rewoven into a new portrait. You cannot shift one thread without disturbing the rest. Imagine the danger of those threads being sewn randomly back together in the wake of rash changes.”

Akuje brushed aside the vague words with impatience. “Save your riddles. Such Wizards must have lost sight of what they wanted as they prepared for the summoning. But not I. What I want has burned pure and bright in my heart for years. Get on with it. Give me the power to change the course of my life!”

“So be it,” intoned the Djinn, opening up its palms and dissolving into a shower of red-hot sparks. The motes of light fell upon Akuje, setting him on fire inside and out.

Yet within the immolation, amidst the searing agony of it, Akuje cried out in joy rather than pain. Power beyond anything he had ever known turned his very bones into shards of radiant light. He felt like a star fallen from the heavens, possessing energy that hungered to be used to shed his will upon the world.

His breath seethed in and out of his lungs, struggling to bring in enough cool air to quench the fire inside. Feverish intensity ate away at his good sense. It suddenly seemed excruciatingly slow to mundanely walk the several hours separating this shrine he had built out of his personal wilderness retreat all the way to his family’s castle.

When he spoke, it no longer sounded like him. Layered under his tenor was the Djinn’s rumble, his words infused with the fae lord’s power. “I wish to stand at the gates of my family’s home.”

The world shifted around him as teleportation magic activated, sweeping him from the chamber and landing him on the well-trodden path leading up to his family’s castle.

The ancestral seat of the Kikuchi family was no different from when Akuje had left it two days prior to begin the summoning ritual. How he had yearned to make it his. And yet now, it felt… pathetic. To think of confining himself to such a dismal place was wrong. Those thoughts ignited his anger, and he hated himself all the more for having dreamed so small. He could rise so much further using the wish magic at his command.

An entire day. I have an entire day. Why hold myself to displacing my father as a miserable Shishaku? How far could I go? Could I unseat the entirety of the Kazoku council? Make myself Emperor of all I see? His passion to go after greater victories was a storm raging inside him, but he couldn’t move on until he dealt with this place. Dealt with these people who had plagued him all his life because they couldn’t see the greatness inside him.

He had seen castles in other nations spread over the world. His father had seen fit to send him on many trips to expand his horizons. To be rid of me lest I prove my worth and embarrass him for choosing my brother as his successor. The blocky behemoths of stone and mortar so common elsewhere differed from the graceful architecture of Hu’na’la. The architects of these lands blended harmony and beauty with defensive power. Castles here used linked compounds, ascending rings, sweeping rooflines, and sloping walls to please the eye while defying any army during a siege.

Akuje strode toward the entry gate, sealed by two doors of oak that were two feet thick. The guards saw him coming and started to open the way. But he grew irritated by how ponderously they moved from his path. With nothing more than a whisper, he wished them to snap open. The massive constructs whisked apart, slamming into the inner walls in a way they were never meant to. The stress made the hinges groan and the load-bearing support stones crumble. Both doors bent disturbingly far before finally shearing free and collapsing to the ground. Two guards were killed in the initial flinging motion, and two more who couldn’t scramble away quickly enough to avoid being crushed when they fell. Damage and death tags lingered over the scene.

He was not moved to any sadness by the loss. He was sheathed in a combination of power and long, long perceived insult. These servants and guards spent their days laughing at him behind his back, snickering in the corners as he walked by. He was a joke to all of them. One of the middle children. Never to inherit now that the elder son had a child of his own. Forgotten in favor of the ‘baby son’ who captured their parents’ hearts. Always sharing the middle-ground with his twin sister, who had kept their parents’ attention by being the only girl-child. They doted on her, and the servants all followed their lead. Nothing was left for him.

“What is happening, My Lord?” Keiji, this shift’s guard captain, begged to know as he ran up to the scene, misreading Akuje’s mood and not understanding that his lord had been the cause of the devastation.

“Idiotic questions. Always such idiotic questions from all of you. None of you are worthy of scraping the dirt off my boots. I wish you all gone!” Akuje spat out, not even trying to define what he meant with the invocation.

The power uncoiled within and lashed out. His crudity and ugly attitude shaped the magic, and the Djinn unleashed its will to remake reality to match. An unseen force simply plucked every individual in the courtyard and flung them into the sky. Half of them had their spines and neck snapped by the whiplash of the motion. None of the others would survive as they fell from the clouds onto the spear-like tops of the forest trees around the castle.

The same force radiated outward, rattling all the shutters on the surrounding windows. Slats were blown off the nearest roofs and several chunks of loose stone were shaken until they spilled down into the courtyard.

He locked a ferocious smirk onto his face. I’m invincible. This is… this is… exactly how it always should have been! He barely noticed as bone-colored claws burst from the tips of his fingers. The bones blackened as if burnt as they drew into sharp points, clacking against each other when his hands fidgeted and twitched.

He stalked into the corridors leading deeper into the maze that was his family’s home. Intruders would have found it difficult to navigate, delaying them so that a defending force could assemble at the key spots to fight. Akuje’s path never wavered, taking him on the most direct route to the inner sanctum: the central keep. Positioned upon the highest point on a rise in the bedrock, the keep towered over the rest of the grounds, allowing the reigning Shishaku to look out over the lands their ancestral line had owned for centuries.

As he walked, Akuje’s temper flared and calmed erratically. When he saw a painting of their family hanging at the end of a hall, he torched it for the pleasure of seeing it burn.

When Ayaka, one of his sister’s attending ladies born of a lesser Shizoku family, came upon him, his evil leer sent her backing away. She had refused when he wished to take her to his bed, but he had never lost his hunger for her. He turned her to gold with a whim, forever freezing her beauty in its current state to appreciate later.

A jog in the corridor created a double-back in the path. It was useful so defenders could stab through the spear ports from the parallel corridor, but he had always found it irritating, knowing that he had to walk fifty paces sideways and then return along the opposite way. Laughing with delight, he vaporized the intervening wall, sending a hail of wooden shards down every corridor around him. Several died in the deadly hail. Above him, the building sagged, for the wall had been load-bearing. Akuje had already walked well beyond the area when it collapsed. He looked back at the clutter and heard the screams of those trapped inside. He gave a shrug, since he intended to raise a far more impressive structure before the day was done.

With each thoughtless, arrogant wish, the magic tore at the edges of his mortal form, imprinting him with lasting mutations born of each malicious act. His whole body grew, gaining a few inches in height and building mass that was mostly knobs of bone and thickened skin impervious to weaker physical attacks. His skull grew even faster, beginning to look awkwardly large on his thick neck, yet his cheeks and face sucked in against the bones beneath until he became horridly gaunt. Increasingly… stretched.

He passed out of the final ring-building, entering the gardens that separated the rest of the castle grounds from the main keep. His younger brother, Suta, emerged from the keep. He had always possessed an innocent face that had never grown into a manly aspect, at least in Akuje’s opinion. He was… pretty, and that infuriated Akuje. It was a poignant reminder of why his parents were so fond of Suta even though he was a vapid example of Kazoku-level nobility.

“By Narrum’s good graces, is that you, brother? What has happened? Who has done this to you? Are we being invaded?” the young man exclaimed breathlessly.

The worry in his voice gave Akuje momentary pause. He looked up and down the length of his body, realizing that all of his clothes had burned away. Much of his skin was blackened into crusty patches, like cheese coating a slice of bread that was held to a fire for too long. The rest had taken on the ruddy hue of being seared badly by the summer suns.

Irritation at his insipid brother’s idiotic concern brought him crashing back into the moment. “You petulant little brat,” he chided his brother, and not a trace of any irony penetrated his wall of anger. “What are you but a chittering rodent who gnawed its way into our family tree? I wish you the privilege of having your body finally match your true self!”

Suta was hit in the chest with a hammer blow of force. He staggered, then tried to cough… but it came out as a hacking squeak instead. Horror crossed his features as he began to shrink. He stared at his hands that were growing into little paws, then clutched as his head as his skull collapsed in on itself, pressing on his brain as that too shrank. Soon, it was too small to hold complex enough thoughts to see himself as human. Almost his personality and sense of self were stripped away, leaving nothing but the remnants appropriate for the squirrel he had become.

Laughing in maniacal delight, Akuje kicked at his brother-rodent, sending the now-animal scurrying off in fear of the predator that even its simple brain knew had once been kin, but was no longer safe to be around.

One wrong righted, was all Akuje could think, then stomped further into the keep, eager to balance the rest of the scales. He no longer went in a straight line. Following his impulses, he stalked from room to room, and decided he would not stop until he had purged the entire stronghold.

A familiar sound caught his ear: that of physical effort and the smack of flesh hitting a tatami mat. His sneer grew uglier as he embraced a merciless need to remedy an old grudge that had tormented him since he was old enough to comprehend that he was doomed to be the lesser-loved of a matched set.

He stormed into the family’s dojo. It wasn’t as large as the guards’ practice hall, but more than enough for their family to keep their martial skills sharp. Artifacts lined the walls: the Kikuchi creed for discipline and iron will, black ink portraits tracing the scions of their line who had become masters in these combat arts, and various weapons used as part of their training. The whole floor was covered in the hard-packed straw mats that cushioned one’s fall while leaving enough punishment to discourage making the same mistake twice.

Five familiar faces greeted him. To a commoner within the Hu’na’la nation, this would be an embarrassment of riches. Three instructors stood in a loose triangle: Haruto was their lead sensei, a grandmaster of the Ekanshin style; and with her was Takara and Torei, both younger yet still impressive instructors in their own right. To think three august mentors might be used to watch over two lone students was absurd, but such was the wealth, prestige, and privilege of Shishaku Kikuchi, who never shirked in obtaining the best for his family.

The two students were also well known to Akuje.

First, there was Rana, another of his sister’s attending ladies. Where Ayaka was chosen for her grace and ability to share his sister’s artistic endeavors, Rana had forged herself into a worthy adversary capable of standing against her noble lady during combat training.

And then… there was Yokïmi.

She was his twin and the bane of his existence. Since birth, they fought for their mother’s teats. Even now, flush with anger, he had to admit she had grown into an elegantly strong woman in her own right. Having taken shameless advantage of the opportunities offered her, the keen intellect behind her eyes was matched by the beautiful athleticism in her lithe body. He had seen her long, delicate fingers make magic along a harp’s strings and guide fine calligraphy brushes with exacting precision. He hated the musicality that clung to her every movement, turning everything she did into a melodious celebration, as if the gods themselves were playing their instruments in her mind to accent the events of her life.

Her talents in the dojo were nowhere near the equal of the masters surrounding her, but she had advanced further than any of her other siblings. Suta didn’t have the temperament. Their elder brother, Mamura, had focused his talents upon battlefield tactics and weapon arts more likely to be used there. And Akuje…

He spat upon the mats, desecrating the sacred place. I was never given half the chances as my siblings, treated like a failure unworthy of the same instruction.

His rude spittle caught their attention almost as much as his magic-distorted body. Yokïmi and Rana both came out of their fighting stances. His sister fixed him with a deep frown, trying to absorb the monstrous changes while being stunned at the blatant sign of disrespect to their family’s tradition.

Both of the junior instructors looked uncertain, stepping away from the man who held lordship over them, allowing their sensei to set the tone and address the disturbing creature he had become.

Haruto folded her arms over the belt of her gi, striking a pose that would have been insolent for any servant who had not spent the last two decades throwing these particular nobles around on the mats. “What have you done to the temple that is your body, My Lord? You profaned yourself and now do the same to this place? Do you not know it isn’t me you are insulting?” She lifted a hand to indicate the portraits of his ancestors. “It is them.”

“I am so tired of your condescending impudence. What gives you the right to speak to me this way after giving up on me?” Akuje said, hating how close it came to sounding like whining.

A twitch at the corner of Haruto’s mouth suggested she heard it, too. The sensei was not foolish enough to be deliberately crass. While the true Shishaku Kikuchi would never allow an execution order against her to be carried out, and she could defend against any direct attack any of her students tried, there were still punishments the nobles of the family could levy against her. Whipping. Starvation in a cell. All sorts of unpleasantness that the Shishaku would have no choice but to uphold to preserve their family’s authority, even if he was secretly angry with them being for ordering them against the honorable sensei.

But Haruto knew her place. She knew how far she could normally push. Here in the dojo, in her place of power, she could stretch much further. She didn’t back down even as she delivered the cutting barb. “You gave up on yourself, My Lord. The lack of discipline was your own. I can only teach those who commit.” She waved at him dismissively, not scared at all of his distorted appearance. She’d killed worse monsters in her past. “Instead, you have polluted your body with evil magic to gain power you never earned.”

“Never earned?” Akuje said softly, inflecting each word with a dangerous edge. “You’ve no idea what I went through to attain this power. You should not say such things. In fact, I wish for you to never have the breath to speak ever again.”

Her expression hardened, about to deliver a stinging retort… only to find her mouth sealed over. And her nose. She tried to choke, but even that was smothered. Her hands went to her face, clawing at the suddenly sealed flesh in panic. Tags began to scroll off from the top of her head, giving hard evidence of her distress.

* Suffocating *

{-8}

* Suffocating *

{-8}

* Suffocating *

{-8}

* Rattled *

* Fear: Severe *

Seeing her composure fracturing, Akuje laughed. “Where is your discipline now, Sensei? Can you not set your fear aside and embrace your death as one who has mastered herself? Or were those just… words?”

Torei stepped toward him. “Whatever you have –”

Akuje’s threadbare patience evaporated. “I wish you would buzz away, little flies.”

After five seconds spent screaming, two insects droned away from where the two lesser masters had once stood. Even in her distress, a terrible pain clawed at Haruto as she saw her pupils mutated in front of her. She collapsed to her knees, her nails clawing bloody furrows where her lips had once been to open a passage into her lungs.

Akuje’s eyes fell on Rana.

“No!” Yokïmi snapped at him. “Leave her be! She’s blameless in this… in whatever this is!”

“No one’s hands are clean,” Akuje snarled. “But this one would say anything for you, wouldn’t she? Do anything? I’d like to see just how far she’d go.” His eyes went to the attending lady. “I could force you to kill yourself. After seeing what I’ve done, you know that, don’t you?”

Trembling, Rana nodded, falling to her knees. “Mercy, Lord Akuje. Please, I’ve never meant you ill.”

“I won’t quibble with you, though I dare say you’ve shared laughter with my treacherous sister at my expense. I give you one last chance to serve her. I won’t use my power. Sacrifice yourself. If you give your life here and now, then I will spare my dear sister from death. If not, both your lives are forfeit.”

“Narrum cast you into Zafvesh’s fiery hell for this!” Yokïmi cursed him. “Don't play his game, Rana! He will not keep his word!”

But Rana was already moving. With frantic haste, committing herself before her self-preservation could interfere, Rana ran to the edge of the mats and planted a foot on a stool. She leaped high, flinging herself with arms wide onto a set of spears locked in a rack. Bloody damage tags seeped out from the grievous wounds they cut into her belly. Gravity dragged her down until she hung like a grotesque scarecrow.

(-120)  (-142)  (-139)

* Dead *

As if watching the death of the lady had taken the last of Haruto’s strength, the sensei fell upon the mats and lay still. A final few tags wavered above her.

* Suffocating *

{-8}

* Suffocating *

{-8}

* Dead *

Yokïmi sank to her knees, unleashing a soul-rending scream. Twice she tried to speak but failed, until at last she sobbed out, “What have you done? How… how?” She could get nothing else out, split between asking how it was possible and how he could be so vicious.

“Now you concern yourself with my feelings and wishes?” Akuje crowed his harsh mockery. “You’ve never seen me, sister. We shared a womb and yet I’ve been nothing to you since we were young. Oh, I have hated father for his insufferable dismissal. Mother for her callous favoritism. Mamura for his unending slights and insults. Suta for being too naïve and selfish to see the affection he stole from me. But you… your indifference was so much worse. There are countless legends about the deep bond shared by twins. Yet… not us. We have been strangers since our cords were cut!”

While there was hatred in her eyes, fear dominated. Yokïmi knew he held her life in his hands. She was caught like another insect in his spidery web, too scared even to beg since she didn’t know if it would placate him or push him further into insanity.

“Fear not, dear sister. I’ve given my word. I won’t send you onward to the River of Souls and put Narrum’s love for you to the test. I doubt he would deign to sweep you into his heaven, for what have you ever done to be worthy of the love from the God of Humanoids. Or any god? Or anyone in this world?” His jaw clenched, and the act of compressing those muscles forced two spikes to grow from his chin bone, jutting out into the air with two spurts of blood. “Certainly not from me. You’ll watch as I rise. Every god and every king shall see me and marvel at what I become.”

His venomous glare returned to his sister. “But you? None shall see you. Here is my gift. I wish that no one ever truly see you for the rest of your cursed life. May it be a long one, dear sister. I wish you the loneliness of being ignored. Of everyone seeing through you, whether you speak truth or deceit. Be nothing but a vague presence who is quickly ignored in favor of more important things. Suffer what I have suffered my whole life!”

His magic reached out and snagged hold of Yokïmi. She cringed at its touch, but it coiled around her faster than she could react. Pain ignited inside her as changes were wrought in her body. Her flesh dissolved away. He watched with fascination as her lovely face lost its natural coloring and became as clear as master-crafted glass. Her stiff practice gi caught fire, burning away to show the rest of her skin all changing to share the same property.

He turned away, leaving her to her suffering. He gloried in knowing that she would lay there in pain, seeing nothing but her dead friend and mentor nearby. He had no doubt she would flee in terror, as likely as not to perish out in the forest. And if she doesn’t run, maybe I’ll put her in a cage and turn her into my own personal song-bird. At least until I tire of her and sell her off as a whore.

Akuje left the dojo. By now, the alarm had been risen all over the castle, even though the threat was not well-understood. Guards and servants swarmed everywhere. Some still didn’t realize he was the threat. He let some run by, happy that they would add to the confusion, while others who had stung his pride or given him offense in the past were wished out of existence or changed to suit his whim. Those who presented even the smallest threat received pain before they were wished into oblivion. He swept up the central stairs, heading for his father’s private audience chamber. Ascending to the top, he entered the large foyer where visiting dignitaries were forced to wait on the Shishaku’s pleasure.

Standing boldly in the middle of the room, Mamura was dressed in his grand armor, his katana already drawn in open challenge. He made no mistake that Akuje presented the real threat. “What have you become, brother? Why have you turned against your own family?”

Akuje’s gaze raked back and forth, taking in the twenty warriors spread to either side. It was his father’s entire personal retinue, a fighting force who could take down an army of two hundred all on their own if given the chance to prove themselves. Such are their claims, anyway. Are those lies, like so much else in my father’s world? False claims to make him feel safe in his seat of power.

None of it matters. It is not a blade that is coming to take their lord’s life. It is magic beyond their feeble ability to understand.

Akuje didn’t answer his brother directly. Instead, he raised his hands and gestured about the foyer. “Do you know what this room has always been missing?”

Confused by the attempt at distraction, Mamura’s sword never wavered. “Word games will not save you, brother. Your treason will never be forgotten.”

Once again, Akuje ignored him. “I’ve always felt more at home in the forest than a castle. When this is all mine, I’ll take a lesson from the elves and allow nature to blend with the stone. Might as well get started here and now.” He locked eyes with Mamura. “Goodbye, brother. I wish for you to shade me as I walk into the throne room and secure my destiny.”

Instantly, Mamura and all twenty warriors dropped their weapons and began shaking violently where they stood. None of them fell. Roots exploded from their boots which then broke through the thick timbers that made up the floor. Their arms were forced wide as the tips of their fingers split and their skin shredded open. Soon those limbs thickened into wooden branches. Leaves sprouted as the branches crushed against the ceiling and interwove to form a canopy.

Akuje was delighted that the last feature to fade was his brother’s face, which morphed into a series of knots as the last of his humanity vanished. Akuje’s gaze remained locked on Mamura’s eyes, letting him see the fierce joy Akuje felt in destroying his brother despite all the superiority he had arrogantly claimed.

Akuje’s focus was broken as his back twitched violently. He snarled as a blazing trail of pain spiked into his nerves. A dorsal spike jutted out through his skin from each vertebra of his spine. A bark-like crust spread to either side, turning his back into an armor plate.

Shrugging off the torment as the changes were wrought upon him, Akuje approached the doors to the audience hall. He knew this was where his father would have taken refuge, for its walls could withstand the impact of siege engine weapons. The entire building might collapse upon it, yet the underlying support structure might hold and save the Shishaku’s life. He raised a now-massive foot and slammed it into the portal. It shuddered but didn’t break.

“I wish for the power to sunder this pitiful barrier!” he snarled with impatience, irrationally angry that even non-sentient objects like these doors hadn’t recognized his importance and the futility of standing in his way. His musculature swelled further, though his fractured thoughts didn’t have the coherence to ensure he grew in a harmonious way. The target of his desires was his ability to kick, so his legs grew out of proportion. The laws of physical reality demanded a means to stabilize the power he intended to use, and so his coccyx elongated with painful speed, jutting out behind him as the wish magic regenerated his vestigial tail.

He didn’t care. All that mattered was that he now had the power he wanted. Once more he thrust his foot into the doors. This time the barrier which could have stood up to a battering ram cracked open and lagged to the sides. He marched in as if at the head of a conquering army. Scouring the hall, he saw it empty but for his father on his grand chair and his mother standing by his side.

Despite his father’s always potent aura of authority, it was his mother who drew Akuje’s attention. She was always noticeable in any crowd in Hu’na’la, for she was a foreigner from the Goldaan civilization. Her dark-chocolate skin, full lips, and curly riot of night-black hair were as common there as they were exotic here. His parents hadn’t come together out of love. Their union had been one of his father’s stabs at power. The link to the Goldaan royal family was a critical priority for the senior Kazoku council. His father had become their solution and thus a key player at court.

Which left me forever marked as an outsider among my own peers. Always different. Always not fully Hu’na’laan! He hated how his brothers and sister seemed to embrace the features and coloring which blended two cultures, reveling in how it made them somehow exotic. They were blind to the sneers and mockery that followed them in the shadows. Though it has always been worse for me. So much easier to mock the cast-off from the family.

His mother began to speak –

He cut her off with a crisp snap, “You’ve had years to make peace with me. Nothing you say now can bend my heart!”

Her expression twisted toward grief. Whatever she had been going to say shifted toward words of denial –

Except again, he forbade her from having any chance to beg forgiveness for her sins. “You’ve lost me. Now, I wish you to feel the suffering of every mother who has lost a child under your rule. At least they had the honor and heart to grieve while you spurned and forgot me!”

Her mind was torn into shreds in the span of mere seconds. He fancied he could see her sanity shatter behind her eyes as her hands flew to her temples. In a fit of pure madness, she rammed her head against her husband’s throne once… twice… thrice… blotchy, blunt force damage tags appeared on her temple and forehead.

[-110]  [-98]  [-121]

* Dead *

She finally split her skull open and ended the torment.

Shishaku Kikuchi watched on in horror, helpless to do anything as it happened with such terrifying speed and in a magical manner beyond his understanding. His mouth gaped open as the loving wife was reduced to a broken heap in the span of a few dozen panicked breaths.

“That… that was your mother!” the Shishaku let out in a disbelieving whisper.

“That was the woman who bore me from her womb. Nothing more,” he spat back at the man. “Your contribution was even less. A grunt of effort and a spark of pleasure and you were done. Then I was shunted to the side so long as Mamura grew tall and strong.” He sneered. “Now that’s all he will ever do.”

His father went pale.

“Your whole line has been pruned from the tree of life, great father. But for me. And when this day is done, I shall claim a new name. One worthy of me. And I shall sculpt a magnificent legend that will shine for ages!”

With ponderous effort, the weight of what his son had done bearing down on him, the Shishaku clambered to his feet and stood proudly before his throne. “There will never be anything except horror stories told of you. You will never be worthy of looking at this seat, much less sitting upon it.” The elder man tried to thunder out the last words, but he failed to make his voice ring off the walls as he had often done to force lesser lords to kowtow to him.

“History alone will tell,” Akuje huffed, then glared at the old man with his piercing gaze. “I wish you were dead.”

Shishaku Kikuchi’s heart stopped between one beat and the next. He crumpled and was gone. Without ceremony and without drama.

Akuje inhaled sharply between his teeth, wanting to savor the feeling. He almost instantly regretted it. The choice had felt right in the moment. To kill the man absent of any glory. But it was over too quickly. Too little pain. He deserved far, far more pain.

He turned in slow circles, banishing any hint of regret. Such emotions were unworthy of this moment of conquest. My family is the past. I am the future. And this place is… insufficient for who I want to be. Gathering his breath, he announced into the air as if there was a vast audience who could hear the beginnings of his legend. “I wish for a palace fit for an Emperor. A seat of power that will make the entirety of the Kazoku caste tremble. Them and their Shizoku lapdogs. Erase this miserable castle from the world so I can forge my stronghold!”

As the words spilled from his lips, his tangled thoughts attempted to seize hold of the power and guide it. He envisioned a cleansing fire searing the Kikuchi castle away…

But then, specific details he might wish to keep flooded his mind. He remembered the surrounding forests which would be useful in building engines of war and ships to sail, so he didn’t want the destruction to carry too far...

Then his erratic emotions laughed at the concern. Part of him enjoyed the idea of bringing forth a calamity so massive that even in a land plagued by volcanic eruptions, his emergence would burn so brightly in the sky that every other lord in a thousand-mile radius would tremble and know something terrible had happened.

Before the nature of the castle’s destruction stabilized in his mind, he was tempted by dreams of his new palace. The staggering breadth of possibility granted by the Djinn was awe-inspiring. He wasn’t constrained by what mortal hands could build nor to the resources upon his family’s lands. He could draw upon the fountain of pure magic and raise… what? A glass spire with cascading windows to reflect light in a way that would make a star elf weep at the beauty. Or an ugly bastion of unbreakable iron, a scar upon the land as a dire warning to those who would seek to oppose him. Perhaps use the architecture of Hu’na’la, only on a grander scale, to emphasize his claim to the title of Emperor. But might not a strange, foreign marvel stab all the deeper, declaring him different and thus beyond the quagmire of noble politics?

Explosive heat boiled in his blood as the magic of the wish sought release but was repeatedly held at bay. With every change of his unfocused mind, the path was cut off and reshaped and then summoned afresh. Each time that it was choked off and held in check, the power grew more volatile.

A new idea for a flying castle occurred to him, but when he reached for the energy, it singed his mental hand. At first, he thought the Djinn was betraying him, but then he hunted around and found he was standing in an actual, physical, raging bonfire. The audience hall was a torch. Any metal and stone had melted into slag while the wood was incinerated and blown away by a hurricane wind. He couldn’t remember setting off this cataclysm, but it was all around him.

The chaos buffeted him. His thoughts and emotions and even the knowledge of who he was in his soul were suddenly uncertain. The fabric of his reality was crumbling under his feet, and he didn’t have the discipline to piece it back together.

The ceiling above him was suddenly gone. He could see the stars of the dark sky. Raising his hands to those heavens, all he could think to do was scream.

A fireball exploded into the night.

Though it was not seen for thousands of miles, it carried for nearly a hundred, seeming to reverse the sunset for a brief moment for those who were out in the open.

And then, the fire died out, and the ruins of Kikuchi Castle became very, very still.

Chapter 1

The twin dawns came. As the two suns rose in the sky, nothing moved within a league of the tor on which the Kikuchi castle had been built.

There was life remaining in the region, both flora and fauna. Not a breeze disturbed any leaves or tousled the fur of the animals. A casual observer would think the greenery was the same as the day before and the day before that. But a closer look would reveal every leaf had a distorted fringe; not brown, as if decaying, but rippled and distorted as if in the midst of a slow metamorphosis. In the same way, the animals and insects would occasionally twitch or jitter before returning to an unnatural stillness. Each erratic movement signaled the next in a series of chaotic transformations as they became something… other.

The suns rose high, peaked and then started their shared descent across the partially cloudy sky. One was already below the horizon and the other had its lower edge touching when the first disturbance in the strange tranquility came.

A small landslide of debris rattled down the crumbled mountain of wood and stone that was the remnants of the castle’s central keep. Yokïmi Kikuchi braced her foot against a critical piece of wood that was holding open the air pocket that had kept her alive. Over the course of the last few hours, she had dug her way toward the surface. The last effort to break free had required her to destabilize the debris keeping her alive, and the bubble would no doubt collapse once she rolled clear.

Part of her wanted to thank Narrum for the gift of life. But the phrasing of Akuje’s wish rang in her ears, carried with magical power. She didn’t know the nature of that power, but she was certain it had shielded her when the keep crumbled down. He had wanted her alive, and so she was.

But I won’t thank him for such a small mercy, she hissed to herself. Damn him for what he’s done. Let Narrum cast him into Luumarn’s hell for this!

Yokïmi was covered in soot and grime. She coughed on the dust kicked up by her escape efforts. Feeling her limbs growing weak from the constant struggle, she lurched clear of the pit that had both saved her life and yet stood ready to claim it if she wasn’t quick enough.

As expected, the debris pile began to rumble beneath her. Scrambling in panic, Yokïmi kept going and didn’t stop until she was sure she was crouched on a solid patch.

It wasn’t natural ground. She was still on the rubble of her home. The soles of her feet hurt, reminding her that all of her clothing have been burned away by her brother’s fell magic. Fortunately, winter had given up its hold over two months prior. The nights were no longer freezing. She might get uncomfortable, but her blood wouldn’t freeze in her veins simply because she didn’t have fur or blankets to pull over her.

Giving a frantic scan around her, she confirmed that she wasn’t going to find any help here. There was nothing. The whole castle had been leveled, crushed as if an arrogant giant had gone on a rampage and decided that every building was displeasing and needed to be obliterated.

Her eyes returned to the rubble of the keep. No movement. No signs of life.

They were under there. All of them. Father and mother. Suta and Mamura. Rana and Ayaka. Haruto and her assistant mentors. The rest of the guards and servants and…

The litany faded to ash in her mind, summed up in a single word.

Everyone.

She fell to her knees. The pain of striking the rough stone and broken wood didn’t register against the horror of what had happened.

Gone. Her whole life… gone.

Her fists clenched and she thrust them up at the sky, howling in grief. When nothing answered, she only cried that much harder, demanding answers from the gods in their heavens.

None were offered.

A bitter part of her wondered if that was because she had only paid lip service to her belief in Narrum. Perhaps the God of Humans would not suffer to answer her since her voice was that of a stranger.

She wasn’t in the right mind to be fair. She cursed him anyway. In her mind, she flung profound questions and insightful demands up at the sky, asking how any god could stand to let such a travesty happen to good people who had been stewards of these lands for so long. But she never managed to speak those artful arguments. Aloud, her clever words were reduced to more of the same, blood-chilling screams of a haunted woman naked and alone in the gathering night.

That’s all I am. Food for the wolves. The brutal thought chilled her raging emotions with brutal, honest truth. Whatever friends her father had wouldn’t arrive in time to help her. Whatever enemies he had lurking along his borders waiting for his fall wouldn’t arrive in time to kill her or take her as a prize. I’m no longer a lady. I’m prey.

The primal side of her cocked her ears, listening to the wind. She couldn’t pick out anything: not the howl of a wolf nor the yip of a coyote. All the meat of the dead is buried. Soon enough, the animals will come to dig them all out. Or when they can’t, they’ll decide I’m easy enough to take instead.

Into the quiet, the babbling of the Su’bora reached her straining ears. The large river swirled around the headland on which the castle was built. The dock. Did it survive?

A chain of ideas formed in her mind, painting a path that might allow her to find safety. She couldn’t stagger around in the dark. She needed a point at which to aim. The answer came to her in a rush of inspiration: Katashi. He was not family, but was rather her Father-in-Narrum, a ceremonial designation granted to him on the day of her birth. For those with greater faith, the role was assumed by one who would help her walk in Narrum’s holy path. With Narrum-worship becoming less strict in recent years, the title was largely honorific, a statement that Katashi was a close family friend. Precisely the sort of man who would take her in and stop the wolves from eating her, no matter what form they took.

From what she knew, the man was a well-learned Sage making his living in the town of Atsumae. It was fairly distant. She’d have to cross the border onto Shishaku Umori lands and beyond the Kikuchi span of control. On the positive side, the town lay upon the same river, near to where it emptied into the ocean, meaning she could reach it without trekking over land.

So long as at least one river craft survived, she all but prayed, sending the wish to the Goddess of Fortune. If any deity had a say in what would happen to her next, it was Lady Luck. Better hope she’s in a good mood.

Staggering to her feet, she picked her way over the ruins. As the immediate, blinding power of her grief ebbed, the comparatively minor, inconvenient pains of walking over chipped stone and wood chips with bare feet became worse. By the time she reached the carved steps leading down the steep slope to the water, she was limping. She was sure she was leaving bloody smears on the ground along with small, aggravated damage tags to temporarily mark her trail.

{-1}  {-2}  {-2}  {-1}…

Ai ya, I’ll be eaten for sure out in the forest, she grimaced, and set all her hopes solidly on the river.

The blocky stairs had mostly endured, showing only a few ruptures from the earthquakes and a few chips from debris that had tumbled down the slope to smash against them. When she reached the base, Yokïmi discovered much of the dock had suffered a similar fate to the castle above. Three-quarters of it had been blasted into splinters, then either sunk or been carried off down the river.

But a small fragment remained. Tied to the remnants was a small isobune-style skiff. It was a paltry thing, compared to the fine, sweeping yuusen pleasure boats that usually transported their family up and down the river. This small, sharp-prowed boat didn’t frighten her. While her life was largely filled with leisure, her father despised the idea of raising helpless children terrified by something so natural as water. She could swim, and her childhood lessons had included the art of paddling and steering an isobune like this with the oars she hoped to find tucked inside.

Being in that isobune struck her as her first morsel of safety, a place most predators wouldn’t easily go. Not to mention, the next significant step toward finding a friendly face to take her in. She rushed down the last few steps, crept over the creaking skeleton of the dock, and slipped carefully into the isobune as if expecting it to vanish like a ghost when she touched it.

It was real. Joy swelled in her heart. She rooted around in the bottom and found two oars. See? Already a trace of good luck. I have a spare. Having no reason to waste time, she gave one last forlorn look up at her ruined home, whispered a short prayer for the souls of her family, for her ladies and mentors, and for those who had served them… then undid the lines and drifted out onto the water.

Her memory served her well, reminding her how to guide the isobune from the harbor created by a breakwater. She steered out into the swirling river as it curved around the castle tor, then ventured into the main current. She soon found herself bobbing along at a rapid enough pace that she felt no need to sap her strength by trying to row.

Whether her safety was an illusion or not, being alone in the boat allowed grief to find its way back to the surface. For several hours, a fragment of her attention remained on the river, enough to keep from being pushed up onto the shore. The rest of the time, she curled into a ball and let the anguish tear into her heart. When at last the tears would no longer flow, the world’s three white moons far above had crossed half their nightly arcs. She was many leagues from the shattered castle, and she wondered if she would ever see her family’s lands again.

The sorrow dulled. Not forever. She could sense it lurking right under the surface. But it had taken enough out of her for now, and had bestowed a small reprieve. As the pain of it dulled, a new irritation emerged in the form of itches all over her body. Frowning, she realized much of her skin felt like she had recently walked through a patch of poison ivy.

While all three moons were more than half-full, their white light reflecting off the river wasn’t enough for a total accounting of her scrapes and bruises, much less to determine if a rash was breaking out over her body. She was liberally smeared with mud, dirt, and dust. Not to mention blood. Never in her whole life had she ever felt in such need of a bath. Her entire, naked form was painted with the grime.

No sooner did the thought pop into her mind than the itching enflamed from a mild irritant into a horrid burn. Hissing at the sudden pain, she raked at her leg, thinking there might be insects hidden in the muck biting at her. But she found nothing. She couldn’t wipe the mud away since her hands were crusted over themselves.

Her mind scrambled for answers as the burning intensified. It wasn’t like she had never been dirty before. She knew she wasn’t allergic to the dirt around her home!

Her fear spiked, worrying that some unknown poison would scour her skin right off her bones. After witnessing the wishing magic of her brother, any terrifying idea seemed possible. All Yokïmi could think to do was wash everything off and hopefully strip away the cause of the fire on her flesh.

Keeping a firm grip on the isobune so it didn’t get swept away from her, she rolled over the side and plunged into the water. Though it was deep in the springtime, there was a lot of melted mountain snow feeding the river. The chill struck her hard, dashing any trace of fatigue that had been creeping up on her. Fighting the urge to leap back out of the cold, she scrubbed at her body vigorously until anything that might be attacking her or causing the fiery rash was gone.

Climbing back into the isobune wasn’t easy, much to her dismay. She’d trained hard in the fighting arts. She was proud of the flexible, slender-yet-strong body her diligent practice had given her. Her combat skills were aligned with utilization of body weight, pressure points, and precision strikes at vital weak points rather than brute, crushing strength, yet she had never felt weak. But the difficult events of the last day were catching up with her. Clambering over the side without capsizing the isobune nearly defeated her.

Yet when she rolled into the long boat’s interior, fatigue was the furthest thing from her mind. She held her hands up in front of her eyes, sure that her mouth was hanging agape in utter bewilderment.

These aren’t my hands!

The encounter with her brother was little more than a swirling blizzard of images, many of which didn’t make any sort of sense. So much of what he had done was… impossible! Haruto, who had seemed invulnerable on the practice mats, had been cast aside like she was nothing but the chaff in a wheat harvest before her brother’s magic. Rana… pushed into sacrificing herself. And Takara and Torei… turned into insects before her very eyes. Did I really see that?

From amidst that mental swirl, Yokïmi remembered her clothing being dispersed into fog. And… her flesh following. The color of her skin had been washed away. The agony had twisted her guts so badly that she had lost consciousness.

But she had awoken whole. Not turned into an ethereal spirit at all. Haruto had taught her to be mindful of her body and thus she knew her body was responding as it had before. When she used a muscle, she felt the same power behind it. When she stretched a limb, she could feel the same strain where she reached the limits of her flexibility. I’m still me!

Yet… she also wasn’t.

She curled her fingers into fists, then opened them wide. They answered her call. Droplets of water were shaken loose by the motion, running in cool rivulets down her skin. She felt each one vividly, telling her that her senses hadn’t failed her.

Except… no matter how hard she strained her eyes and tried to disbelieve what she was seeing, her hands remained as they were.

Crystal. Or perhaps glass. That’s where her mind landed as a descriptor. She wasn’t wholly transparent nor invisible. There was a definitive outline to her form. Not only that, but the moonlight wasn’t passing through her with perfect clarity. Every image she looked at through her hands became slightly distorted, like peering through one of her father’s empty crystal tumblers before he filled them with sake.

What’s happening to me? Her gaze dropped down, running along her arms and then over her legs and torso, confirming instantly that her entire body had taken on the same crystalline form.

Panic set in again. Her breath began to come faster. What did my bastard brother do to me? She cast about the isobune, looking for… for… what? She had no idea! Not only was it laughable to think there were any answers inside the small boat, but it was a thousand times more absurd to think she could find anything there to reverse this mutation forced upon her!

A Curse. This is a Curse. He used whatever fell power he found to cast a Curse on me. Could there be a way to break it? Yes. Yes, there probably is.

With that thought resonating inside, she fought to clear her mind enough to form the simplest of rational thoughts. Not enough to tackle any complex problems; merely enough to call her status orb down from where it was floating high above the river, a trick she had learned before she even learned to speak. Babies would see this glowing orb hovering above them and call it down to let it dance in front of their eyes, much to their delight. She had been no different.

In many an afternoon salon, Yokïmi and her ladies had debated the mystery that were the status orbs. They were given to every being with a soul upon the world. Gifts of the Divine beings who ruled over them? A trick of fate? An old magic called forth by an Archmage of unbelievable power which had forever resonated down through the ages? Each of those possibilities had been discussed as far as their intellects could take the matter, and all those discussions had resolved nothing. Neither had a thousand other similar conversations among Sages throughout the nations of the world.

However, unlike her Curse, this mystery had the comfort of an old friend, rendered familiar by time and consistency in her life.

The faintly-luminous sphere descended toward her, neither languid nor hurrying. No known magic could render another person’s orb visible to a stranger, though with her body so recently transmuted in a way that she would have called impossible, her belief in any such limitations was shaken. She was glad that no one else was around to put that fear to the test.

When the orb drew near enough to see details, a fresh pang stung her heart. Her sphere had always been a vibrant pink with lush blue swirls. Now, it was almost totally clear. Wispy clouds of pink danced within, lovely in their own delicate way, but… not hers. The colorful and cheerful orb that had been her companion since birth… this wasn’t it. This was wrong!

Smothering the sob that threatened to escape her, Yokïmi called it closer. It answered her whims as perfectly as it always had, which twisted her sadness into a snarl, irrationally hating this replacement as if it was responsible for shattering her orb and was now trying to pass itself off as the real thing like nothing was awry.

For a brief, stubborn moment, she considered banishing it and resolving never to look in it again. To live her life blind to the inner workings of herself. But nothing would be gained from that. This was her link to her inner self. She had to live with this new version if she was going to decipher how to help herself.

Bringing the orb between her open palms, she settled the whirlwind in her brain as best as she could. Using the orb with a clear mind was always best. Otherwise, the information provided could come across jumbled or in an order you didn’t want. Once she felt as calm as she could manage, she cast her commands into the orb.

The neon-pink swirls parted. Within the sphere, she saw the statistics which governed who and what she was. Inevitably, her focus went to the very first entries, the simplest statements of who she was as a person.

Name:  Yokïmi Kikuchi, Lady of the Kazoku Caste in Hu’na’la

Identity:  Crystalline Human  /  Female  /  Adult

Rating:  100

If she had not already been seated, she would have collapsed. One word added. Only one small change but it… it means… I have no idea what it means, but I’m no longer me!

Now close to hyperventilating, Yokïmi tried to decide what to look at next. Her eyes skimmed over the next most fundamental elements, finding some very small relief in how similar it all appeared.

Faith and Devotion:

43 – Narrum, God of Humanoids

31 – Blind Fate / Chance

26 – Goddess of Fortune / Misfortune

From what she understood, the layout of numbers always came to a total of 100, representing the fullness of one’s belief. She’d met a Cleric of Narrum who stated he had but a single entry, thus claiming to have utter devotion to that single god, but nothing about the man’s actions had proven or disproven his assertions. She’d also heard of a person with 100 in Blind Fate / Chance, suggesting he gave no thought to the gods who ruled over them. He appeared normal enough, untroubled by the lack. For Yokïmi, it was merely the product of her upbringing. She had never felt any great calling.

The next set of numbers were also pleasantly similar.

Alignment:

+ 21 – Purity / Corruption

+ 58 – Empathic / Psychotic

+ 16 – Angelic / Infernal

– 04 – Orthodox / Deviant

All of them were the same. That meant this new ‘Crystalline Human’ form didn’t have expectations that were extraordinarily different from a typical Human. She was considered no less Pure nor was she less Orthodox. In truth, she had always wondered why her final score trended toward the Deviant side. Perhaps because I lack any ambition to follow in my father’s footsteps? Or is there some human desire that Narrum has dictated which I simply refuse to follow, more so than the average human who would score a 0? Or, more likely, an edict I am unable to follow because I’m ignorant of it due to my lack of instruction in His faith…

She shrugged that aside as a problem for another day. The next entry was equally familiar, though even less helpful.

Luck:

-4… -9… -2… +1… +7… -11… +3… +12…

She found it uniquely humorous that the gods had chosen to include the ever-fluctuating score. A brief, painfully-fond memory of her younger brother came to her. Suta had been sure there was a way to find a pattern in the randomness. That someone could sense the moment when Luck was aligning to your benefit, then learn to act in those special moments. His experiments had been impressive… and always failures which varied from being amusing to nearly disastrous for his safety and health.

Since they reminded her of her brother’s smile, a joy forever lost to her, she left the useless numbers to flicker their indecipherable message. Yokïmi went on to the entries she had spent her life developing.

Levels:

Harpist:   5

Virtuoso:   3

Bellatir:   2

Polyhistor:   2

With her Rating set at 100, as with all humans, Yokïmi possessed the freedom to pursue a wide span of options in the course of her life. Many people never came close to reaching that full potential. Even the most well-worn paths had only 20 Levels to take. A Farmer who had fully mastered his trade and had no wish to delve into the mysteries of another might spend their whole lives fulfilled in their hearts but never in Rating. Nobles often developed multiple paths, since they had the wealth and freedom of choice to wander as their hearts desired without fear of starving should they fail to be productive.

Joy uplifted her again as she saw her Levels untouched. She loved bringing music and art to life. Having those skills vanish might have broken her. These simple numbers were the paths she had walked for her entire life. This was her… until her brother entered the dojo and cast it all into the fire.

Though… everything she had gathered as part of these pathways was gone. The harp her father had gifted her on the day she played for Koshaku Ogawa, her father’s direct superior and one of the great lords who cooperatively ruled Hu’na’la... every painting, sculpture, and musical composition she had ever created in her wide-spanning Virtuoso training, a common path for idle lords and ladies... it was now reduced to ashes.

In a similar way, the well-born had the time to explore the history of the surrounding regions and the world at large. She had never been an impressive student in that forum, but she’d dutifully learned about the relative importance of her family in the wider world. But the library she had explored to earn herself the Polyhistor levels was now ruined.

The worst loss was the dojo. Not only because it was a shrine to her family; it was also the place where Haruto had finally fascinated her into dedicating sufficient time to unlock the path of the Bellatir. Many other combatants acquired the comparatively brutal, straight-forward Pugilist path or the hard-impact martial styles that gave access to the Taudoka path. Neither appealed to her. But she had been enchanted by the Ekanshin martial art, one that demanded the application of precision force and disciplined violence. It was… poetry, and it had spoken to her soul as much as any music ever had.

Gone. All the scrolls and old texts penned by her ancestral practitioners and the knowledge they had sought from outside experts. All the heirlooms from so many generations on which a novice could meditate in hopes of finding some echo of their wisdom.

Gone.

She buried another scream, hating how useless it felt and not wanting to summon any attention now that she was so far from the castle. In the dark, she had no way of knowing how far she had drifted. While she should still be within her father’s lands, he wasn’t there to speak for her or protect her. She was hardly recognizable as herself. A dangerous way to meet anyone.

Dwelling on the pain isn’t going to get me anywhere. Stop. Just… stop. Keep going. Focus on what might help.

She stopped wandering down her status in an orderly way. I came looking to see if Akuje laid a curse on me. That’s what I need to see. Shifting to a different section, she was immediately struck breathless by two massive sets of changes.

Gifts:

Poison Immunity (Level 5)

Disease Immunity (Level 8)

Prolonged Lifespan (Level 3)

Augmented Hunger Resistance (Level 5)

Augmented Thirst Resistance (Level 2)

Curses:

Physical Definition Allergy (Level: Epic)

Emotional Transparency (Level: Ascendant)

Mental Shield Weakness (Level: Superior)

It was the Gifts that made her choke first. None of those had been there before! Once again, her brother’s words stabbed out of her memories, wishing her a long life so she could suffer all the humiliation he intended for her. Did his magic give her these things? Did he intend for her to be Gifted in such a way? Why would he bestow all these wonderful things only to send the entire castle crashing down on top of me? He couldn’t have known I would survive… could he?

Ai ya, this is such a mess! It struck her as so… so random!

Why am I so surprised? The argument came from the logical side of her fighting for order and understanding in the chaos. He wasn’t in his right mind. On some level, I knew that from the instant he walked into the dojo. I simply failed to recognize it in time to do anything about it. Though… what could I have done? He had such power.

Unable to make sense of it, she didn’t delve further into what the Gifts meant. She could open up each specific entry and search the benefits they granted her and their limitations, but nothing about any of them would give her answers regarding her Crystalline form nor to why she had felt the burning rash sensation. The hardiness these Gifts implied would keep her alive long enough to find Katashi. That’s all that mattered.

The Curses were far more concerning. She swallowed hard as she saw the Epic Level of the first one shining out at her. She’d never dreamed that she’d ever see anything with an Epic tag on it. It was the province of heroes. Emperors, Archmages, and Hierophants with the ear of their gods dealt in such matters. Only that which was labeled as Divine, and thus the stuff of gods, indicated a higher power level. To see it implanted in her status was as good as seeing a permanent alteration that could never be undone. With her heart pounding in her chest, Yokïmi opened the details of that Curse.

Curse: Physical Definition Allergy:

Conditions:

-  This curse remains forever, unconditionally active.

-  The Cursed shall endure negative effects if any effort is made to outline, frame, quantify or otherwise establish their physical form in a more definitive way. This includes but is not limited to: clothing, wraps, body paint, magical constructs, illusions, etc.

-  Items, objects or effects intended to conceal the Cursed from view will not trigger the effect. This includes but is not limited to: buildings blocking the Cursed from view, fencing, magical effects like fog or darkness, non-form-defining covering such as bedding, tapestries or room-dividing barriers, etc.

-  The awareness of the Cursed is necessary for the negative effects to activate. (i.e. Being outfitted with clothing by another while unconscious will not result in immediate application of negative effects. These effects will take effect only upon waking and becoming aware of the definition.)

-  Intent will exacerbate any negative effects. (i.e. Having paint splashed upon the Cursed will result in minor discomfort so long as the Cursed seeks immediate cleansing with the effect building slowly over time. Deliberate intent to apply and leave a painted covering will prompt a stronger reaction.)

Strength:

-  Epic

Effects:

-  Skin irritation will spread over the Cursed as would a rash in reaction to an allergy.

-  Effects commence with itching and will progress through discomfort, pain, true burns, and finally damage to flesh should the Cursed not seek to remedy the cause of the negative effects. Permanent disfigurement and eventual death may result.

“What in Myrmida’s name have you done to me, brother?” The name of the Goddess of Revenge spilled from her lips this time. That’s why he had spat this noxious Curse at her. She tried to remember the exact words he had used, but ultimately decided it didn’t matter. He wants me to be inconsequential. He said he wanted people to see through me. To have all my secrets laid bare and have me dismissed as worthless. I should probably be glad his damned magic didn’t twist me further.

She didn’t have the strength to open the other two Curses. She already felt like Haruto had been throwing her around the dojo for a few hours. Besides, the strengths of both the other Curses are reduced. One looks like it will stop me from hiding what I’m feeling. The other so I can’t hide what I’m thinking if anyone peeks into my brain. That one is seriously dangerous. Certain Wizards might not be content with simply peeking. That might need to be the first one I rectify, if any of these Curses can actually be undone. But… for now? It can wait. I need to survive the night.

It was too much. She banished the orb with a flick of her hand and closed her eyes. I want to sleep. I’m not thinking straight. I need to sleep…

But without dying. Making it all the way to Atsumae without rest felt like a monumental task. To then sneak through the city and into her Father-in-Narrum’s house seemed truly impossible. With her head packed in mud, she couldn’t even begin to sort it all out.

Using the trick she’d learned when she was a child, she made two fists with her hands and pushed her knuckles together. A string of status tags started to flow off the top, giving her a rapid summary of her immediate status without needing to call down her orb.

* Fatigued: Severe *

* Fear: Moderate *

* Hunger: Moderate *

* Thirst: High *

* Rattled *

Yeah, I’m in a bad state. Taking a risk, she reached over the side of the isobune and scooped water from the fast-moving river, hoping it would be clean enough without boiling it like her wilderness survival instructor had taught her. She kept drinking until the Thirst tag vanished. One less thing.

The Fatigue came next. And that meant she had to take a different sort of risk. Better to do it while I can still count to five without my fingers.

The last time she’d been this far down the river, she’d been far younger and riding on her parents’ palatial yuusen. While she had enjoyed watching the animals climbing in the trees, she hadn’t made any effort to memorize the twists and turns of the sweeping river. She wished she had paid more attention.

She hunted around in the silvery light of the moons, seeing nothing but trees. She was passing through a deep spot in the wilderness without a single sign of civilization. That wasn’t uncommon, with so much of Hu’na’la filled by dense woods and craggy hills leading up into the forbidding mountain range that dominated the country’s northeastern reaches

Beaching the craft was an option, but she didn’t know the area or the dangers that would exist. There were wolves and bears lurking here, above and beyond any more formidable monsters or warlike races like orcs and goblins. Going onto dry land would merely expose herself when she was weak.

Shifting her focus to the water, she waited for a deep bend in the river. Rather than steer into the fastest moving part, she deliberately guided the isobune’s prow into the stagnant muck. Before long, she was hung up in a way that would take deliberate effort with her oar to unsnarl.

Of course, she wasn’t sure how long she’d remain stuck. It was all a guess. If she drifted off and the boat got pulled free by the current, who knows where she’d end up or who would find her? She might get capsized and tossed into the water and wake up drowning. But she was desperate and this was her chance. Maybe the last chance she’d have until she reached real safety in Atsumae.

Hunkering down so that no one who wandered by on shore could see her, Yokïmi settled against the side of the isobune as comfortably as she could and allowed her eyes to close.

Everything hurt.

Her mind was scrambled so badly that she felt drunk. Worse than the one time she’d stolen from her father’s sake stores on a dare from Ayaka.

Perhaps worst of all, she knew nightmares were waiting for her. Her emotions weren’t healed over. Only exhausted, waiting for a weak moment to explode back in her face.

And alongside all that was death. Death that could come in so many ways, terrifying her by being such a real possibility for the first time in her privileged life. Waiting to snatch her into its claws.

She still fell asleep within seconds.

Chapter 2

Yokïmi woke to a rumble passing through her. The world shook, powerful enough to rouse her yet familiar enough that she didn’t panic. Her eyes hunted immediately to the northeast, sweeping along the towering mountain range that was almost certainly the cause. Sure enough, she found the plume of ash rising from one of the craterous peaks, this one blown off by a far larger eruption several weeks earlier. This latest earthquake was a whisper by comparison.

She didn’t worry too much about the plume. The prevailing winds swept in from the west and carried the emissions of those active volcanoes further eastward. She’d never been across the mountain range, but stories told of the eastern lands beyond caked with the falling soot. Until the mountains finally quieted, that area would undoubtedly remain a barren place. The volcanoes had periodically thundered their anger for generations, and not even the wisest Sage could guess when they might stop.

As a child, Yokïmi had secretly suspected those mountains to be the lair of the Fire God, Zafvesh. When she grew older and learned that the Divine Beings lived in their own realms beyond the mortal world, her belief had shifted toward seeing those fire mountains as gateways to the god’s home. As she grew into an adult, she eventually reached the conclusion that the firestorms and smoke were the capricious god’s outlet, a sign of his rage that he couldn’t set the whole world on fire for the joy of watching it burn.

Like any sane Hu’na’la citizen learned to do early in their lives, she watched the plume until sure that winds hadn’t decided to blow differently today. If they had, thick smoke and wisps of fire could carry for leagues into their lands, and taking cover would be the only solution. Fortunately, it proved to be a normal day. She wouldn’t have to dodge deadly, acidic rain while making her way down the river.

Working her boat out of the muck, she guided herself back into the open stream. The forest and hills began to flow past with reasonable speed. On the last journey, the family had reached Atsumae by departing in the morning, spending a night aboard, then reaching the river docks late in the next afternoon. She didn’t recall the servants straining at the oars to push them faster when going downstream. Members of the Kazoku tier didn’t rush as a symbol of their station. To hurry meant one was either flustered or at the beck and call of a person superior to you, and the ruling caste did not easily admit to either.

Yokïmi felt stronger after the night of fitful rest, even if she was still somewhat shaken. Her tags had eased in their severity, confirmed with a quick press of her knuckles.

* Fatigued: Moderate *

* Fear: Moderate *

* Hunger: Moderate *

* Thirst: Mild *

Getting rid of the Rattled tag was most important. She’d acquired it a few times in her life, always in her worst moments when stunned by bad news or when she took a fall or blow bad enough to be shaken down to her bones. As long as it lasted, taking meaningful action was an epic slog, usually ending in failure.

Mercifully, her grief hadn’t reared its ugly head again. It lurked in the back of her mind but apparently was giving her a bit more time to find a place where she could be safe before it cut her open once more.

Her empty belly wasn’t gnawing at her that badly, either. It was a bitter prize stemming from her new Gift. One small boon for which I’m not going to give my brother the satisfaction of thanking him.

With that all in mind, she wasn’t content to drift. She took up one of the oars and dug the blade into the water. It felt good to engage her muscles. It reaffirmed that this was her body, and that it would respond to her demands as it always had.

The sunshine cut through her glass-like skin, renewing her doubts every few minutes. Each time she questioned if this really was her, she brushed her hands along the visible outline of her limbs, then traced the familiar curve of her sides and swell of her breasts and hips. The physical reminder helped ground her. It was her. All of it… her. Exactly the shapes she remembered, only rendered into smooth, near-transparent material that felt like flesh however little it looked like it.

Scowling as her mind wandered, she refocused on her rowing. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. One after the other. She could do this for hours. Her legs were flexible and slender, yet reliably strong from hours of martial training. Her arms were leanly sculpted by similar practice. She was never meant to blast away with blunt fists like her brothers and the other larger warriors. Her talents were honed toward finding tender spots to inflict pain with stiffened fingers or sharp-knuckled punches. She engaged with her whole, lean body to generate the power she needed, all of it working in unison.

If she was being fair, it would be more accurate to say that she was attempting to make her body work in total unison. Her mentors had never held back their praise when it was warranted, and she had earned her fair share. But on the scale of combatants who practiced the Bellatir art over the centuries, she was a beginner just starting to find her way. Only now, my mentors are gone. The boundless knowledge locked in their minds… snuffed out. Gods damn you, brother.

Clenching her teeth, she rowed harder. Don’t think. Stroke. And another. Keep going. You can’t spend another night out here. On the final approach to Atsumae, the river passed through some lighter forest and lowlands where there were far more villages scattered along the river banks. She couldn’t be sure she could find a safe spot to strand herself again. The idea of going ashore to find shelter made her tremble.

The first of those villages came and went without incident. The heat of the early afternoon had chased people into the shade, leaving none to watch the river while her lone river craft slipped by unseen. The village was typical enough for Hu’na’la, with only a few structures made of stone. The majority utilized easily replaceable wood and paper sheets. When earthquakes and fire-rain could decimate a village several times a year, it made sense to use materials that could be raised again within days, if not hours, and for far less cost than raising new stone and mortar constructs. Impressive castles were the province of lords such as her father who could afford the cost of rebuilding them.

With the second village, she was equally fortunate, though in a different way. The steep banks were not well-suited to having a large stretch of docks. The village buildings were gathered around their farmland, using the river as nothing more than a convenient place to grab water and with only a single, treacherous dock to offload small shipments when needed.

Her run of luck ended as she passed the third hamlet.

She kept low, nearly gliding past the whole stretch of floating docks without catching the attention of the scattered fishermen doing maintenance on their boats after the day spent on the water.

But eventually, one of them noticed what seemed to be an unoccupied isobune adrift on the river. He stood straight, nudging a friend, and soon a dozen of them were peering out at her, shielding their eyes against the suns to see more clearly.

The sides of the craft simply weren’t high enough to offer much more than waist-high modesty unless she laid down. That would have surrendered any hope of controlling her progress. Getting snagged by the shore or hung up in the muck was not an option, as that would only give them reason to approach and offer help… or the opposite.

Which meant all she could do was use her oar’s handle to block her breasts from their view, using it only when absolutely necessary to keep to the center of the river. Even then, she flushed with shame under their unabashed gazes. She swore two of them didn’t even blink for as long as she was in sight.

Whimpering out the breath she’d been holding, she vented her fury at Akuje’s Curse. From the way it had read, she couldn’t even stop and fashion herself wrappings of leaves and branches. That would set off that damnable, blistering pain. The wording of the Curse had suggested that she could create barriers, but she didn’t have so much as a blanket that she could hold up between her and whatever observers she stumbled upon.

Darkness. I need to arrive in Atsumae after nightfall. I can steal through the shadows. I cannot walk on daylit streets like this. I’d be shamed forever, if not worse.

Despite how much she loved the warmth of the suns, she almost begged for them to quicken their pace to the horizon. The sooner she had the night to hide her passage, the better. She’d gladly risk getting tossed about in rapids she couldn’t see coming rather than endure more stares like that.

Dusk mercifully fell and gave her the shroud she needed to slip past the next three villages with far less notice. She only had to dodge one boat whose three occupants decided the night was the perfect time to catch fish. They were so intent on their efforts that by the time one of them looked up and caught sight of her, he didn’t even have time to summon the attention of the others before she was lost in the gloom.

The river began to broaden as she reached the low-lying lands approaching the sea. Atsumae was built upon the river delta, held together by bridges and retaining walls that prevented further erosion. Entrance into the large town wasn’t blocked by any walls, neither on land nor the water, but she recalled there were multiple watch towers established, including one right by the river’s edge.

Slipping over the side, Yokïmi took a risk she wouldn’t have done in faster moving water. She clung to a cleat fixed to the boat’s gunwale and let herself be dragged along. Even a normal person might not be spotted in the dark, if they were lucky. With her clear skin against the dark water, the chances were in her favor.

From the watchtower, she heard a guard demand loudly, “Ho, there! Who’s guiding that boat?” When she didn’t answer, the man spoke in a more natural tone that carried across the water loud enough to hear. “Must have slipped a line and gone adrift.”

Another answered, “I’ll send Anubei and Tatsu to chase it down before it gets to the docks and bangs up against something. Last thing we need is for it to knock any other boats loose or cause other mischief.”

“Get them moving. It’ll be washed clear down to the fishing wharfs before the clock strikes the hour.”

The knowledge that a pair of guards would come in pursuit of the boat didn’t worry Yokïmi. She had no intention of staying with the main stream that they would search first. Once sure that she was well clear of the tower, she pulled herself back in and set to work diverting into one of the side canals. After two more forks, she was lost enough on the town’s waterways that it would take hours for the guards to track her down, if they even bothered. More likely they will assume they missed their chance and the boat washed out to sea.

She used the next few minutes to get her bearings. Atsumae wasn’t a massive city, nor was its layout overly complex. But it was still the better part of 30,000 people gathered together at an important junction between caravan routes, the river, and the ocean. There were hundreds of streets split by dozens of canals and inlets, and the last time her family had visited with Katashi was well-on five years past. The only reason she was relatively sure he still occupied the same abode were the occasional letters her father had received from his lifelong friend.

Whenever she heard voices or footsteps or the splashing of an oar in the water, Yokïmi slowed or sped up her own progress to remain out of sight. She was being well-served by the lack of nighttime activity. She recalled there could be lantern festivals and well-lit circuses in a couple of the main squares, but she wasn’t passing near to any of those nexus points. On the two occasions she couldn’t evade notice, she dropped over the side again. The water was somewhat more stagnant here with an unpleasant odor clinging to it. She endured the smell, grateful to slide by with only a few more comments from those ashore about an empty boat that must have escaped when its owner wasn’t looking.

Having clambered back into her craft and then steered it around a corner following the latest near sighting, she took a moment to swipe at the water droplets on her leg. It looks so strange seeing the water run over me. Like droplets skimming over a window pane. The effect was both fascinating and yet disturbing. Would be more of the former if it was happening to someone else.

As she passed under a foot bridge, she heard rushing boots clomping up the stairs and running out onto the span above her head. A coil of rope spilled from above and snagged the lashing post at the isobune’s prow. “Got it!” came a triumphant cry.

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Get it over here so we can drag it up to the shore!” A second man shouted, appearing on the left canal bank beyond the bridge. He was clapping and gesturing for the other man to hurry.

Yokïmi went down low, crawling forward and hoping they wouldn’t be able to see her before she worked the rope free. But before she could reach the post, the rope grew taut as the two men tugged hard. That caused the loops of rope to bind on each other, cinching tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to free the boat until the men stopped pulling.

As soon as they put on the strain, the isobune began to pivot in the water, anchored against the stream. The unusual movement put Yokïmi off-balance. The boat swayed sideways and came against the canal’s edge with a hard bump. Before the craft finished jostling, she sprang onto the pathway and sought to dart away.

A fleshy wall blocked her way. “What’s this, Huna?” the man barked. “The boat’s not quite as empty as we thought!” His tone started as gruff, unhappy to have their treasure spoiled if it belonged to someone else. But it soon grew joyfully nasty as he realized more about who they had stumbled on.

The second man let out an ugly chuckle. “Not sure, Maru. Might be a wandering spirit? Looks the part, don’t it?”

Hating everything about their intent, Yokïmi spun to flee, only to find the other man coming up on her, having tied off the boat to a nearby post. The nearest side streets leading away from the canal were beyond the two men. She was pinned between the water and an unknown building.

Seeing her turn to dive for the water, clearly willing to swim for safety, the first of the men who’d been called Maru swiveled into her path. “Aren’t ghosts supposed to be scary?” He chortled and jabbed a single finger into her shoulder. “None of the stories say you can poke ‘em like flesh.” His leering eyes dropped to her chest, all but licking his lips. “Didn’t think they’d jiggle like that, neither.”

Raw embarrassment stormed through her, though not even a hint of blush or other coloring shaded her crystalline nature. “Let me pass,” she hissed.

“Did you drift down the wrong bit of water, little fae?” the one called Huna snickered from behind. “Awfully cold in that water.”

“Good thing fae don’t scare us. Not charming ones like you, anyway…” Maru crowded in on her.

“Wouldn’t mind warming up a pretty thing like you.” Huna also inched in on her, ready to snatch her if she tried to dodge around his side. “The water’s so cold, isn’t it?”

“Is that so?” Fury replaced Yokïmi’s embarrassment. Two days earlier and these maggots would be scraping the cobblestones with their foreheads when I walked past. Now I’m nothing but… prey. The word came to her again, briefly reminding her of how she’d felt when contemplating the wolves of the open woods.

There was a chance she could have escaped. The pair were covering the side-streets, but she stood a small chance of crashing through the wood-and-paper fusuma walls of the nearby building before they snatched hold of her.

But Yokïmi’s anger had morphed into something else.

The greatest aspiration for Ekanshin practitioners was to ascend into a state of mind where she could be both yielding yet capable of instant sharpness during conflict. It was a mentality Haruto had described as seeing nothing and yet everything. To float above the moment and react with otherworldly precision.

She tried… but that state was far beyond her. But the chill focus she did achieve was more than enough for her immediate needs. These are not wolves. They’re jackals, and I won’t let myself fear their yapping.

Yokïmi lashed out with an ippon ken strike at Maru’s throat. She’d seen her masters use the single-knuckle precision strike to drive a three-inch nail into a log. She didn’t have that same power, but the jab impacted with enough bruising force to send him into a coughing fit.

[-22]

* Choking *

{-1}

* Choking *

{-1}

Though she envisioned a fluid transition into her second attack on the other man, the result wasn’t quite as perfect as she wanted. The slight failure of her balance made her back kick sail low. Rather than connecting with his diaphragm to blast the wind from his lungs, her heel crunched into softer bits. It wasn’t as artful as she desired, but the end effect was perhaps more satisfying.

[-28]

* Rattled *

* Stunned *

Huna let out a deep groan as he doubled over and slumped to one knee. The combined tags that floated off his head proved that he wouldn’t be threatening her immediately.

Rebounding off him, Yokïmi went down into a deep, forward stance and drove her palm into the side of Maru’s knee. A sickening crack echoed in the night air, followed by the man’s weak scream rendered into a pained squawk by his damaged throat. He went down in a heap as fresh tags spilled off his head to prove the damage she had done.

[-18]

* Crippled: Leg – Moderate *

* Tripped *

Whirling back around, Yokïmi pirouetted on one foot, the other whistling into the side of Huna’s face. She struck using a very specific knockout Technique. If she advanced it higher, she might be able to use it in the midst of combat. With only 2 Ranks, she was lucky to get it right with her target Rattled and not even trying to evade. Guided by her cold anger, she made no mistake.

[-21]

* Unconscious *

The big man collapsed to the cobblestones in a lump. Neither of her would-be attackers were even aware she was still there. She could have finished them off if she was in a murderous mindset. She was closer than she could ever remember being. Her breathing seethed in and out of her lungs as she raked her gaze back and forth between them, wishing one of them would give her the chance for further violence.

Neither did.

You’re still naked in the middle of a town!

The sudden thought spurred her back into action. The fight had been fast, but it was possible it had been heard. She considered dropping back into the isobune, but if she was right, she wasn’t that far from her Father-in-Narrum’s home.

Instead, she took to the shadows and hoped with all her heart that she could slip by any other trouble lurking in the town’s alleys and walkways.

Chapter 3

The quiet, hidden run through the side-streets allowed much of the tension in Yokïmi to dissipate. By the end, she swore she felt somewhat better than she had on the trip down the river. The brief conflict with the ruffians had dispersed some of her frustration and had reminded her that she wasn’t helpless. She still felt skittish. Tired. Angry at the world in general. But, not quite so… fragile.

Reaching Katashi’s residence, she didn’t go to the front. It was on a normally-bustling street, and he was a Sage whose expertise and wisdom were often sought at all hours. There was a decent chance that the entryway which served as his reception for petitioners would be occupied.

Instead, she slipped over the shoulder-high fence and dropped into the modest garden he maintained. It was there both for his meditation and to experiment with differing varieties of plant species. She was greeted by an eclectic blend of scents that was pleasant and yet not calming due to the unfamiliar mix.

Sneaking along the winding stone path, she edged up to the rear sliding panel. There was a lantern burning inside which she could see through the thin paper covering. Glad that she wouldn’t be waking him, she tapped on one of the wooden slats.

It opened more quickly than she expected. A shadow appeared against the lantern light within only a few seconds, as if the person was roused from some other work and had darted immediately to respond. She would not have expected the elderly Sage to be so spry, as Katashi was well beyond his sixtieth year. It turned out her expectations were accurate, for it was not him that appeared in the doorway.

Yokïmi knew the Sage kept apprentices, but they only stayed long enough to gain a foothold in the magical arts and some exposure to the wisdom Katashi could offer. He had not settled on a permanent successor on whom he could impart all his vast knowledge.

As such, the young face who appeared wasn’t familiar and hadn’t been there the last time she visited. At first glance, his eyes slid right off her and scanned the rest of the back porch. Only when she raised a hand to give a small wave to attract his attention did he snap back and see her against the night. “Sweet Narrum protect me!” he blurted. “Are… are you real?”

“Would a dream creature tell you it was part of your imagination?” she couldn’t resist chipping back at him. “I’m Lady Yokïmi, daughter of Shishaku Kikuchi, a long-time family friend to your master.”

“I know of him,” the apprentice answered. “My name is Hanzo, but I’ve been here three months, long enough to have seen your father come to visit once, though his family didn’t attend.”

“We don’t always voyage with him,” she said, then suffered through the pit in her stomach as she realized she had referred to her father in the present tense. “It is Katashi who I must see.”

“Are you a magical projection?” Hanzo asked, eyes still wide. “I’ve never seen such a thing!”

“And you still haven’t. I’m physically here. Please, I’m in no mindset to explain, but it’s me.” She gestured down at her own naked form. “I’ve nothing to hide.”

“There are creatures in the world who can do serious injury with nothing more than their own bodies,” Hanzo replied with a cautious edge. His eyes followed her own gesture, but then he flushed with embarrassment as he realized he was ogling her naked figure. He forced himself to look only in her eyes.

“Now I meet one who is reasonable?” Yokïmi whispered under her breath. Taking a moment to recenter herself, she tried again, “Katashi has always been one for taking precautions against magical infiltration. He told us a harrowing tale of a doppelganger who assumed the guise of a mistress from his past. To soothe our fears after scaring us half to death, he told us about a system he invented that only those closest to him know about. A system based on the year and the season brought together. Has he taught it to you?”

“It was one of his first lessons to us.” Hanzo nodded in excitement. “Let me think. We’re in a time of the Ruby Flower –”

“– Sapphire Flower,” Yokïmi corrected.

“Oh, umm, is it? But –”

“Ai ya,” she growled, trying to contain her frustration as he fumbled with the game. “Think of the signs.” She pointed at the three, glowing-white moons passing through the sky above and referenced distinct features showing on each. “Desolis shows her hidden eye. Nabusha reveals her empty sea. Ehtnaza waves her tail. Until those signs vanish from our sight, we say we are in the Sapphire.”

Looking abashed to have his own lessons turned against him, Hanzo added quickly, “At least I remembered that it’s a Year of the Flower. I barely noticed the spring equinox passing, we’ve been so deep in our studies.”

“Indeed,” she granted him the excuse, not wanting to embarrass him any further. “Which makes the challenge you should offer…?” She drew it out, trying to goad him into it.

“Rather unnecessary at this point,” Hanzo sighed. But he said, “The challenge should be ‘All shall want for it, few shall have it.’”

“To which I say ‘Justice’, and isn’t that too sharp a spear in my heart?” Yokïmi cringed at the stretched quality in her voice. Am I really so tired again?

Obviously confused at what she meant, Hanzo struggled to make sense of her. “Seems as if you are who you claim. But with sincerest regrets, I tell you the master isn’t here.”

“Where has he gone?”

“Not far. Atsumae’s Shizoku is a superstitious man, but also a suspicious one. A Medium offered to conduct a séance so that he could hear whispers from his mother lost to the plague last season. He asked our master to loiter in the room and watch for any trickery. He’ll return by morning.”

“By morning,” she repeated, forcing herself to accept it as a truth she couldn’t change. I’m here. Nothing can change that. Morning isn’t that far off. “Is there a fire I can wait by?”

Realizing how he was keeping her out in the open, Hanzo all but lurched back into the room. “I am… so sorry. Thoughtless of me! There’s a large blaze in the central hearth. I’ll show you the way.” Hustling ahead of her, he led the way past two more partitions before they entered a room she would have called a study. One of the walls was of full stone construction, providing a foundation for the fireplace and chimney that provided most of the building’s heat.

Yokïmi peered into the blaze and realized she could see through to a room on the far side. She remembered that room to be Katashi’s private meditation chamber, for he preferred to spend his time in deep thought kneeling in front of the sizzling fire. That room was filled with symbols of personal importance as well as emblems of Narrum to remind the Sage of his connection to the God of the Humanoid racial triad. While she would have enjoyed that smaller chamber’s privacy, she would never dare suggest occupying it.

Fortunately, it also meant there wouldn’t be any random people passing by on the far side, granting her a modicum of privacy in the study.

“Will this do?” Hanzo asked.

“I’d say it should,” she admitted. “Could you find a plate of food? I haven’t eaten in far too long. Perhaps a blanket to cover –” As soon as she said it, her skin started to itch. She had imagined snuggling into a warm covering that would hug to her body. Desiring that was enough to rouse the Curse from its slumber. Clenching her teeth in frustration, she amended what she was asking, “A thick blanket I can lay upon for some small comfort?”

“It won’t take long,” he replied and rushed off to take care of the chores. He was back within a few minutes, carrying a plush goose-down comforter that could function as a nest of sorts. Seconds later, an unseen servant handed him a plate of tidbits of food ranging from grapes to cheese wedges. It was only the remains of the previous day’s meals, but the light fare was exactly what she wanted to nibble on.

“Thank you,” she offered, trying to smooth away the stressful edges that were making her manners ragged. The heat of the fire was incredibly inviting, and the promise of food was sure to have her feeling more like her normal self. Less a refugee and more a lady again. “This is perfect.”

Returning a warm smile, Hanzo said, “I’ll be sure to bring the master to you when he comes back. I’m sure he’ll be eager to see you.”

“I only hope he’ll have the answers I seek,” she said with fervent belief. She was already arranging the blanket.

“Is there anything else?”

“Only solitude,” Yokïmi said honestly. She didn’t want to hurt the young apprentice’s feelings, but even his kind presence was wearing on her, a constant reminder that she was revealed to his eyes and unable to do anything to make it better. Two days prior, she couldn’t imagine being this consistently exposed even to her ladies and the servants who helped her bathe and dress. Those moments of nudity were fleeting experiences where all involved followed proper decorum to safeguard modesty. Her resilience was almost entirely frayed and nearing the point of snapping.

Hanzo’s efforts were a credit to his honor, though that hadn’t made him perfect. It so happened that her request came during one of his infrequent lapses, unable to help himself from tracing his eyes along her. The temptation was not entirely a sexual temptation. There was a clear note of curiosity in him, fascinated by the crystalline texture that now defined her. Flushing at her comment, he wrenched his gaze away until he couldn’t even see her in his periphery.

“Of course. I’ll leave word that none of the others will disturb you. Consider the room yours.” His gait stiff with embarrassment, the apprentice bustled himself out into the corridor.

Yokïmi was too fatigued to find either humor or hold onto irritation or despair. Numbness invaded her and pulled her toward the sleep she so badly needed. Resisting the pull of the blanket nest was terribly hard, but she needed to eat. She found herself forcing the food down as the fire’s heat and the comfortable nest beckoned.

When she finally allowed herself to sink into place and her eyes to close, she slipped into a dreamless state between one breath and the next.

*          *          *

While she was in the heart of Katashi’s residence, the translucent nature to many of the dividing walls allowed the impression of sunlight to filter through to where she slept.

Yokïmi raised her head from the blanket’s inviting softness cushioning her body and peered at the nearby walls with some confusion. The light level was not consistent with a sun just past dawn. She could also feel her body’s refreshment. It wasn’t enough to undo the memories of that terrible day and the strenuous trip down the river, but much of the fatigue sapping at her resilience was gone. I’ve slept for at least ten hours, if not more. What happened? Did Katashi refuse to wake me when he came back? He doesn’t know how dark are the tidings I bear. Doesn’t know that one of his greatest friends is dead. How could he?

Instinctively, her hands grasped the corners of the thick blanket and pulled it up over her shoulders, wrapping it around her with the intent of going in search of the man.

The rash burned into her almost instantly. It began where the fabric touched her skin, but spread quickly down her collars, shoulders and back. The leading edge felt like nettles pricking her skin, followed by poison-ivy-like heat.

Yokïmi threw the blanket off with a hissed curse at herself. “Fah! What are you thinking?” The obvious answer that she wasn’t thinking at all, with the Curse being so new, didn’t soothe the lingering pain along her skin. She touched the areas tenderly, measuring how quickly the magical pain lasted. Fortunately, she seemed to have reacted fast enough that it faded within a minute.

That left her a decision. She could either strike out into the corridors despite her nakedness to hunt down the one she had come to see, or remain there and await his pleasure. Normally, I wouldn’t dare to contradict his will in his own house, but he doesn’t know how poor a choice he is making.

In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the cocoon she had found for herself. I’m more likely to come across others before I see him. Rather than venture out, she picked at the remains of the food tray from the night before, sampling whatever remained unspoiled.

She was close to dozing off again when the partition into the corridor was flung wide. It was not a cautious opening, as she would have expected from Hanzo if he was making an effort to ensure she was ready for him to enter. The barrier was pushed aside briskly as a trio entered with purposeful strides, showing every intention of beginning their daily studies in the sitting room.

On the left was a broad-shouldered man with a gut and waistline that spoke of a jolly life of excess, matched by laugh-lines already etched into his youthful face. His thick arms were hugging around an ungainly load of scrolls threatening to spill to the ground if his concentration wobbled. That was precisely what happened when his eyes fell upon the naked, transparent stranger he had clearly not been warned about. His shock quickly grew into lustful joy. “Sweet, merciful Narrum, what have I done to deserve such a gift?”

To the right was one who might be considered his opposite. This one was substantially less than five feet in height, declaring him as one of the small-folk races, though he would be taller than most of that kind. There were two racial triads with feline aspects: the predorans and the catkin. All three predoran races tended to be taller, stronger, and carried a wilder aspect than their catkin cousins. That made this newcomer one of the former: identifiable as a mashashi since he resembled a bipedal bobcat.

His spiked ears flicked straight up in surprised interest, his slit eyes widening as he emitted a noise somewhere between a squeak and a cry of protest, denying the possibility of her existence. His small stack of books wavered and nearly toppled, but he managed to regain his control of them at the last second. “Did I drink that much last night?”

At the center of their group, there was Hanzo. But rather than recognition, his eyes were popped open with as much surprise as the others. He raked over the half-demolished food tray and the familiar blanket from the house’s own stores, unable to understand how a stranger had come by such things. “Are you a guest we weren’t told abo…” His words trailed off as his memory prodded him, clearly suggesting that he was missing something… but failing in the task of giving him complete answers.

Yokïmi snatched up the blanket and scrambled to interpose it between her and the trio. This time, she recalled her Curse and spread it out in front of her body, using it as a barricade instead of wrapping it around herself as clothing. “What is wrong with you?” she demanded of Hanzo. “Ai ya, have you not told your master about me?” Her voice climbed a couple octaves against her will.

“I… y-ahh… I…” he babbled.

His blank stare only served to infuriate her further. “You forgot about me?” Disbelief rippled through her. She couldn’t imagine how he could fail to recall her obvious distress, his fascination toward her altered state, or at least the carnal interest his baser nature had revealed when he snuck his glances at her supple body.

Shaken by her demand, Hanzo stammered, “Oh… oh now… now that you say… ummm, sort of? You were…” His eyes dropped away and flickered side to side as he hunted through his memory yet again. “… you were here last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes! You did all this for me. The fire. The food. The blanket.”

“I… I did…” He sounded anything but sure.

“And you were to bring your master to me at first light, upon his return from the Shizoku’s séance.”

“Did you give this outsider the master’s whereabouts?” the predoran demanded.

“I must have,” Hanzo admitted with a sort of dazed wonder.

“Ai ya, by the merciful gods, I can’t believe this.” Yokïmi rolled her eyes, wanting to express her frustration further, but unable to move as she held the blanket between them. “Enough of this. Katashi is my Father-in-Narrum, and you promised to bring him to me!”

Stunned realization was dawning on Hanzo’s face. “Yes. I… I think I remember that now. It is so vague a thing! But I know I gave you my word on that.”

“Until you forgot it.” She grimaced, hating how petulant she sounded, but feeling nearly at her wit’s end as the Curses placed upon her dealt her another unexpected blow. What’s happening? None of the Curses seemed to suggest something like this. It was another answer she needed from Katashi, making it all the more urgent to speak with him. “Please, go now. Bring him!”

“I can. Yes, I can! It is…” He struggled to summon more. “I’ll tell him… Yakeemi has come?”

Her scowled deepened.

That displeasure triggered the apprentice’s memory. “No, it was Yo… Yoki… Yokïmi! Daughter of Shishaku Kikuchi!”

She shouldn’t have been so pleased to simply hear her name spoken, but she couldn’t deny the small surge of joy. “Yes!”

“I will get him. I’ll remember. He is tending to the entry hall to give us time at our studies. But I can take his place. He… yes, of course, he would wish to see his Daughter-in-Narrum.” Hanzo turned on his heels and rushed off.

The other two remained, their expression hardly any less shocked.

It was the man with the spilled scrolls who found his voice first. “I’m… I’m Lahni. And this is Parrun. Do… umm, do you want clothes whoever… whatever you are?” He didn’t seem at all concerned for any sort of danger she might represent. Rich delight blended with his surprise, growing stronger by the second. A slow smile began to spread, and he stared at the blanket with a hunger as if he could will it to vaporize and leave her as revealed as she had been when they first entered.

“No,” she snapped.

“No?” The unexpected answer renewed Lahni’s shock, though equally his delight. “As much as it pains me, I think I have to insist if you are going to be in our master’s presence. He is not such a young man and the sight of you might make his heart explode!”

The jest provoked the predoran apprentice next to him. “Didn’t you hear her? She’s Family-in-Narrum with him. That’s as precious as any blood bond to you humanoids, isn’t it?”

Cutting off their banter, Yokïmi spoke sharply, “Begone, the both of you! Before I tell your master all about the welcome you two gave a lady of the realm. Especially one so dear to him!”

That cut deeply enough to make both apprentices looked somewhat contrite. Parrun hurried to plant the books he was carrying on a nearby table, then fled. Lahni backed out, kicking at the scrolls to make sure they were clear of the partition, then slid it back into place.

Yokïmi’s breath seethed in and out as she fought for the sense of the calm she had felt upon awakening. I thought I understood what was happening to me. But something else is wrong. Is there no end to what my brother’s spite has cast upon me?

Within a few minutes, Katashi appeared. The sight of a familiar face exaggerated her relief at his presence. Even if there was added grey in his sculpted beard and pencil mustache, this was her father’s friend, and in that moment, she swore she was reuniting with the most important person in the world.

“Farrum!” she blurted out, using the abbreviated form for Father-in-Narrum, a term that implied a cherished connection that she hadn’t really felt since she was a child. Despite the demands of modesty, she ran to him, flinging her arms around him with the blanket pressed between them.

“Yoki?” he gasped out, and his confused tone made it clear he had only connected to her that fast because of what his apprentice must have told him. “You arrived during the night?”

She clung to him tightly, refusing to let go for fear he would evaporate. “Yes. By the river. By all the gods, it is good to see you. You cannot imagine the horrors I’ve seen.”

“Go gently now, my Darrum. Give me a breath or two. What has happened?” His arms came briefly around her in a hug, then recoiled. She could imagine it was not only at seeing her crystal flesh, but also realizing her back was bare to his touch. “And how is it you are so changed? Nor with clothing to garb yourself!” He was rapidly transitioning through his own happiness to shock and now mild outrage as his traditional morals asserted themselves.

Not wanting him to endure any embarrassment, Yokïmi drew back, once more holding the blanket out between them as a barricade. “I’m under a Curse.”

His probing eyes absorbed her changed condition with a mixture of concern and Sage-born professionalism, his mind doubtlessly engaging to understand what he was seeing. “Cast upon you by who?”

“Akuje.”

“Your brother? How would he have such power?”

His choice of question struck Yokïmi, remembering her sibling’s furious declarations as to why he had struck out at his family. He didn’t ask me ‘why’ or ‘what provoked him’. He leapt right to wondering how my seemingly untalented brother could have managed anything this impressive. She didn’t want to feel even a morsel of sympathy for Akuje, yet… there it was.

Suppressing it ruthlessly, she clutched at her anger. That’s what she wanted to feel in the moment. “I don’t know. He used a magic I’d never seen before. It was… changing him. Twisting him as he used it. But he was unstoppable. He forced one of my ladies to kill herself. Turned two others into insects right in front of my eyes. Then killed Haruto. After… I don’t know, but when I came to, the entire castle was destroyed.”

Katashi clutched at his chest. “Wh… wh-what of your father?”

She wanted to go to him again, knowing the pain her words would cause, but she didn’t dare. “I heard the screams echoing through the corridors. He killed everyone. Nothing was left.”

“What of him?”

“I heard a terrible, terrible cry of anguish. Like a monster I’ve never imagined. I think he brought the castle down upon himself. Nothing was moving when I escaped.”

“What miracle allowed you to survive?”

A sourness overtook her expression, hating to give her brother any credit. “The same fell magic he possessed. I think he wanted me to live. To suffer his Curse. It’s the only explanation I have. For otherwise, I should have been crushed along with the others.”

“These are… dark tidings,” Katashi choked out. Grief claimed him for a long moment, but then he mastered himself again. “But you’re here, even if you are not fully yourself.”

“I need your help to undo this.”

“I’ll try, Yoki. You know I will. But first I will need to understand what has happened. Do you have a sense of what was done?”

Yokïmi let out an explosive breath, showing her frustration. “I thought I did. But then your apprentices forgot that I was even here! That didn’t seem to be part of any Curse listed in my orb.” It was taboo in many ways to discuss one’s status openly, but she felt no shame in doing so now. Not in front of him and with such desperate need at stake.

“Quite a troubling thing, I know. We become so used to knowing the facts that dominate our lives. To have them become untrustworthy must be a shock. Tell me, this glass form of yours, is that also part of the Curses listed?”

“It happened when Akuje cast his magic.”

“But was it defined in the wording of this Curse?”

“Three,” she said with a touch of despair.

“Hmm?”

“Three Curses are on me. But none of them speak of this transformation.”

Katashi winced. “A bad sign. It means the power changed you in several ways. Unusual. Spells are usually meticulously crafted and result in a single effect in a specific way. This has a sense of chaos about it.”

“But why would your apprentice forget me? It might be difficult to see me at first, especially if I have a place to hide, but I spoke with Hanzo. We exchanged cipher phrases as you taught us. He knew it was me beyond any doubt, and knew how important it was that I speak with you.” Her hands clenched at the blanket, wanting to draw it in and snuggle into the plush, down-filled fabric for the comfort it could offer.

Reading the strain, Katashi said, “My apologies, Darrum. My brain is too scattered. Allow me.” He whispered a few magical command words and tossed a length of string into the air. The thread instantly lengthened and thickened, then weaved under the blanket and affixed itself on either end to the walls to her right and left. The blanket hung in front of her on the drooping line rather than her being forced to hold it.

“Thank you,” she replied, then wrung her hands to relieve the tension from them. “I’d put on clothes if I could.”

“So many questions to ask. Sorting this out will take time,” Katashi admitted. “But let’s not get off track. If there’s a chance I will forget you when I leave the room, we need to solve that first. Let us start at the beginning. What are your Aura scores?”

She blanked for a second. It had been quite a while since she’d looked.

A slight hint of exasperation crossed his face. “Come now. Have you not opened your orb since this happened?”

“Of course, I have! But I didn’t dwell on such things. I was far more concerned with the multiple Curses hooked into me!” With her arms now free, Yokïmi grew more animated, throwing her hands up as she paced back and forth behind the blanket. The only balms were the still-smouldering fire and the knowledge she had at least one person to lean on. Guilt flashed through her as she realized what she’d said. “I’m sorry for being rude, Farrum. It’s just… so much.”

“Be at ease. We’ll get through this. But when sorting through chaos, we must take one trial at a time and solve it, or you’ll become lost.” Katashi’s whole bearing reflected patience, as if using her problem and the need to concentrate to offset his own grief.

“I’ll try,” she muttered, already feeling lost.

“Let us return to our first lessons, Yoki. They are foundational. We forget about them as we grow, but returning to them can often provide the answers we need.” His tone shifted into that of a tutor’s. “What are the Three Ps?”

Scowling as he dragged her through the lesson she had learned along with all other children, she replied a touch sharply, “Power, Precision, and Persistence.”

“Indeed. And each apply to our Physical, Mental, Aura and Intuition Abilities. In each, those numbers represent are our strength, our flexibility or acuity, and lastly our endurance respectively. How does each translate for Aura?”

With a sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to stop until she provided answers, Yokïmi said, “Aura (Power) is how brightly we light up a room. Aura (Precision) is the subtlety of the emotional message we can weave. Aura (Persistence) is…” She faded off.

“The lasting impression we give before leaving a room,” Katashi finished for her. He waved at the ceiling. “Summon your orb. Tell me what your Aura scores are.”

A sinking sense of doom told Yokïmi what she’d find even before she looked. But she went through the motions anyway, wanting to see it and know how bad it was. A mild pang of remorse flickered through her as she saw her changed orb again. Conjuring a viewing window, she focused on the relevant section, displaying her Ability scores.

The answer was not a good one. “All show as 1.” She read it again, not quite believing what she herself had reported. She willed them to change back to their previous values, for they couldn’t be real. She’d been performing her music in front of her family and other dignitaries her whole life. She relied upon her Aura scores when performing. They were one of the bedrocks of her life!

“Ah, vey,” Katashi groaned, closing his eyes in pain. “It is an answer, though not one I would have wished upon you.”

“Why say that?” she demanded, sure that he wouldn’t have wished any of this on her.

“Because this is not a Curse. However potent a Curse, they can be broken and the challenges you are experiencing can be reversed. But much of what was done to you appears to be real transformation. These scores are not merely suppressed. They have been permanently lowered.”

“Which means…” A fresh agony settled on her. “There is no easy way to raise them again to their previous heights.”

Striving to find something of a silver lining, Katashi offered, “There is also no lingering force holding them down. You can undo the effect.”

She read the sorrow that clung to his face. “But?”

He sighed grandly. “Ability scores have always been among the hardest to raise. Skills, Talents and Techniques are usually our paths to more rapid improvement. Think how long it takes for a person to build muscle by hard work in the fields. At least there, it is an easy application of physical energy. With Aura? It is a far less tangible challenge to work at getting others to notice you. Especially…” He trailed off and then extended a hand to indicate her undressed state.

She felt a flush of new frustration well up inside her, and it was made all the worse when, like before, she couldn’t see the change of color on her skin as a person normally could with a blush or a surge of anger. “… especially when it will be dangerous for me to be noticed at all.”

Another sigh escaped him. “I cannot be certain, but at least the first few improvements will come swiftly.”

“Why?”

“Because Aura scores of 1 are entirely unnatural. They are the province of insects and bugs crawling on the ground. With all the attention I am paying to you and the strong emotions being evoked by this conversation, I’d be shocked if you did not gain a little even today. But the rate of advance will slow, for good or ill. And until you reach a state where you can deliberately work on being noticed, you will be doomed to be either ignored or forgotten.”

“Can I fight against it when I wish?”

“Once you get someone’s attention, your only hope is to keep their interest by means other than your mere presence. Strike an impression. Be of value or interest to them, and they will stand a better chance of speaking with you longer and remembering you once you are gone. Higher Aura scores allow a person to do this effortlessly and with grace. For a while, it will be your struggle, and you will likely fail as often as you succeed.”

For now, it is a weapon I can use for my convenience. Those men didn’t see me in the boat, and if I hadn’t jumped up right in front of them, maybe I could have gotten away without trouble. Perhaps they don’t even remember how they came to be so injured. If I’m more careful, I can be a wisp on the wind if I am ever out in the open again.

It was an academic truth, she decided, at least for the moment. She had no intention of setting foot beyond Katashi’s compound. Not until she had some idea as to how she could better protect and conceal herself. I need far more than a vague idea involving the protection of these Aura scores.

“Damn you to Zafvesh’s fiery hell, brother,” she hissed under her breath.

“Hmm?” the Sage demanded.

“Do you understand what Akuje’s done? I can be noticed. Leered at. And I cannot conceal myself to lessen the shame. All the attention I don’t want. But as soon as I am gone, I am forgotten. I can’t mean anything to anyone. It is the worst of both worlds.”

An empathetic smile appeared on his lips. “Not to anyone new, perhaps. It seems the connections you have already forged haven’t been severed. Maybe your brother intended for that as well, but the chaos of his conjuring missed it. Whatever the reason, you have that much. You have me.”

A tender smile welled up along with the threat of tears from inside her. “Thank you. For everything. I’m asking so much more than a Farrum should have to give.”

“In these days, perhaps. But there were ages past when those like me were as responsible as blood relatives. And I’ve always been something of a traditionalist.”

“‘Throw back to a previous age’ was how Suta once put it when you didn’t like his hiashletava dance. You know, the one he learned from mother’s cousin during her visit?”

“Such a good lad. Too good to be learning provocative tripe like that,” Katashi sniffed arrogantly.

A small bubble of laughter escaped her, despite all the weight pressing down on her soul. The Sage hadn’t approved of her father’s decision to wed a Goldaan noble. While that culture was every bit as ancient and rich as that of Hu’na’la, their artwork, dance and rituals tended to be uninhibited, raw, and performed naked as often as possible. That stood in near opposition to the Hu’na’laan preference for the strictness, refinement, and decorum as underlying principles. The Sage’s lingering annoyance with the Goldaanan influence upon her family by her mother’s kin had always been a trial for the Sage bear. But hearing it was familiar, and that’s what she needed most.

“Do you want to hear of the Curses?” she asked, feeling strong enough now to speak of them.

He returned a curt nod.

Yokïmi ran through them. “The first and most powerful is the one which stops me from defining my form.”

“So, no clothing.”

“Or anything like mud or paint. I was covered in some at one point, and it started to hurt.”
“But you can hold a blanket in front of yourself? The Curse isn’t there to embarrass you?”

“Oh, it will anyway.” Yokïmi grimaced, knowing it would make her a prisoner for a time, unable to walk amidst people without causing a terrible stir. “But no. If anything, the Curse wants the opposite. It wants people to ‘see right through me’. Part of me wishes it had simply rendered me invisible.”

“I see. And the other two Curses?”

“It speaks of reduced mental shields and emotional transparency.”

“The first sounds dangerous,” Katashi said with a scowl. “There are those whose spells can dig into your mind. Either to control you or uncover your secrets. It is not a window you want to leave open.”

“Not being able to conceal my feelings when trying to bluff at cards does seem like a lower priority,” she agreed.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “And they are all strong?”

“The first is Epic. The second is Ascendant. The last is Superior.”

Muttering a curse under his breath, Katashi said, “Countering Curses of those levels won’t be easy. I will do what I can to assemble a list of Wizards or Holy folk who might have the power to do it. Or, who might know the otherworldly being you’ll need to petition. It won’t be a long list.”

While she had hoped for better, Yokïmi wasn’t surprised. She felt honest excitement that he knew anyone at all, for she had feared he would see the reversal of the Curses as impossible.

“If I’m going to follow any such Quests, I’ll need to leave here one day. I can’t wander the countryside relying on the kindness of others.”

“Indeed not. The ghost of your father would haunt me forever if I allowed you to wander forth without a modicum of preparation.” He gave her a grim smile. “But you’ll forgive me that I do not have a plan crafted and ready for you. It will involve many steps and will undoubtedly challenge you.”

“Where can I even start?”

“Did your father ever insist that you learn any magic?”

Yokïmi shook her head. “I never showed any interest and he never pressed.”

“Perhaps we shall start there. With a few weeks of study, assuming you have even a little aptitude for it, I can help you conjure a few simple spells such as darkness or mist. As an amateur, you won’t be able to summon enough to cover you on a bright summer day, but it could give you modest cover to lessen the number of leering eyes. I should also be able to teach you the groundwork for mental defenses so you won’t be utterly exposed to those who might take advantage of an open mind.”

Shy of him providing an immediate solution to all her problems, this was exactly what Yokïmi had hoped to get from him. The whirlwind that had enveloped her felt like it had slowed considerably, perhaps sufficiently to gain an ounce of perspective and plant her feet on the ground, then follow a path leading forward.

“Thanks again. I knew I could trust in you.”

“The road remains a long one, Darrum. We’ll take the first few steps. But the person you’re going to have to trust most of all in this is yourself. Whatever you thought was going to be your life is now past. When all is said and done, the only thing I can say for sure is that you won’t recognize yourself by the end.”

Chapter 4

Yokïmi fixed a baleful glare at the semi-blackened wick. She swore it carried an impudent air about it, mocking her as it extended from its cheery yellow candle. She knew it was capable of lighting on fire. Indeed, she knew it was capable of carrying a magical flame. She’d watched first-hand as Katashi lit the candle, then extinguished it with two flickers of his fingers.

The thin trail of leftover smoke from the burnt wick had persisted for a couple minutes, but it had long since faded. His demonstration had been hours ago. He’d explained the Trivial level of magic to her. How those spells required little more than refined concentration, a focused vision of what you wanted to accomplish, and a single catalyst to set off the reaction. Unlike more complicated spells that required intricate rituals, specific power words, and the drawing of runic symbols in the air, the catalyst for Trivial spells could be practically anything. A wave of the hand. Or a huff of breath that didn’t even carry a fully formed word.

She also needed to keep in her mind the link to the material components that would fuel the spell. Like with the rest of the requirements, Trivial spells didn’t need much. As Katashi had demonstrated, the mere dust on the shelves or the flotsam drifting in the air would be enough. They’d burn away, leaving nothing but a faint ashen smell that you could hardly notice. All she needed to do was picture that connection and provide the conduit for the power.

Except the conduit was remaining stubbornly closed. Not sure how I can envision this any more clearly. Especially when I’ve never seen it before. How am I supposed to imagine a process I’ve never experienced? She tried once more, summoning each piece to the puzzle and attempting to hold it all in her mind as a single, unified construct. She snapped her fingers.

The wick only laughed at her pitiful attempt.

She clenched her jaw in frustration, resisting the urge to smash the smug object across the room. She planted her palms on the table, bracing herself and hung her head in disappointment.

“Admitting defeat?” The mocking quip floated in from the entrance. “It is a formidable candle, anyone can see.”

Transferring her seething glare to the trespasser, Yokïmi answered through clenched teeth. “Did you perhaps miss the placard which marked the casting chamber as off-limits? Seems impossible considering I left it hanging at eye-level at the corridor entrance. I even used white chalk so it would stand out.”

Lahni lingered impudently in the chamber’s entry arch. “Ahh, but the writing wasn’t in the master’s own hand. I suspected a prank. You’ve only been here a few weeks. Parrun is fond of such games.” His smirk gave lie to his reasoning, combined with how his gaze roved up and down her exposed figure.

“Leave,” she commanded, in no mood to absorb his leering. Lahni had plagued her steps since her first night. She was used to the courtesies afforded to her as a lady of the realm. Technically, if she ever had the bravery to reclaim the station, she was the head of the Kikuchi family. Female Shishaku were rare but not unknown. She swore this lecherous fool could sense her unsure frame of mind. That he somehow knew she was unwilling to strike at one of her Farrum’s apprentices. Though I can’t see the value he would find in this buffoon.

“Say please,” he retorted, leaning his wide body against the door frame. The casting chamber was reinforced to handle errant magic and didn’t so much as creak under his weight.

“Now.” Her voice cracked like a whip. A wispy strand of his stringy hair floated away from the others. Sharpened by the affronts he’d offered, her thoughts fell into perfect alignment in a way she’d found impossible over the last hours. Small motes of dust vaporized all around the room, granting power to her will. A rush of thrilling energy surged through her.

A spark ignited at the end of his hair. It was only a tiny flame, but the loose strand wafted down into others. The dry air served to spread the ember. The fire jumped quickly to several other locks, threatening to turn his entire head into a torch.

Lahni jerked upright, batting at the spawning blaze. Reacting with pure instinct, he made a chopping motion with one hand. A swath of his hair on the left side magically sheared cleanly off an inch from his scalp. The fiery strands fluttered downward, finishing their incineration, leaving only ash wafting to the ground.

Despite it being her tormentor, she felt a small twinge of fascination as she watched him display a different tidbit of magic. I’ll have to learn that one.

Realizing what he had done, Lahni reached up to feel the unbalanced cut to his hair. His lips pulled back in a sneer, revealing his canines.

“Want to see what I can do without magic?” Yokïmi stood to her full height, facing him without a trace of shame, completely ignoring her nakedness despite how her fast, deep breathing was drawing attention to her heaving breasts. High on the sensation of the magical rush, she almost wished he would come at her so she could burn off some of the restless energy.

Something about the situation broke through Lahni’s anger, telling him that he wasn’t in control of the moment. “Not worth my time.” He smirked in what seemed to her like an effort to save face. He smacked a heavy fist off the archway, then pivoted away and strode out of sight. Once in the corridor, he took his parting shot, “Even a nose-blind mouse finds her cheese once in a harvest moon. Let’s see if you can do it again before I die of old age.”

The insult hardly registered. Yokïmi’s raised her hands and fluttered her fingers in front of her eyes, imagining she could still see the motes of bright energy flashing between them. The mere memory of the magic running through her body was enough to make her skin tingle. To make her want to feel it again.

Her status orb chirped out a bright, celebratory chime. She’d heard it a few times in her life, always signaling a significant change that demanded her attention. Most often, it represented a new Level gained. Considering the magic she had just summoned, the potential for good news had her whistling her orb down to her side with genuine excitement. The irritation she’d felt with Lahni was utterly forgotten.

She went first to the scrolling list of recent changes. There was a new trio of notifications in a neat list.

* New Impactful Moment: Spontaneous Brush with Magic *

* New Mentor Level unlocked – levels in Wizard now available *

* New Basic Level unlocked – levels in Sorcerer now available *

With a quick shift, she opened the detailed explanation for the Impactful Moment. These entries detailed out the events which awoke fundamental changes in a person. From anecdotes shared with her ladies and tutors, she knew they could come from simple yet profound situations like falling in love at first sight. They could also be attached to more momentous shifts, such as having one’s family castle sent crashing down by one’s twin sibling.

The Impactful Moment brought about by her brother had led to permanent Emotional Damage, representing inner scars that would probably never heal. This time, the results were far more positive, and promised to have important long-term impact.

Impactful Moment: Spontaneous Brush with Magic:

-  Mentor Level (Wizard) is unlocked.

-  Basic Level (Sorcerer) is unlocked.

-  +1 Mental (Precision)

That explained where the access to the two types of Levels had come from. It was delightful to see the other small bonus, bumping up the Mental Ability score that governed her ability to reason, calculate and… apparently… was also connected to filtering magical energy from the world around her.

Nothing about those details suggested that she actually had a new Level in either of those paths. They were merely open to her. With that in mind, she considered the section where her Levels were listed. There were two new entries that matched the new options.

Harpist:   5   [+]

Virtuoso:   3   [+]

Bellatir:   2   [+]

Polyhistor:   2  [+]

Wizard:   [+]

Sorcerer:   [+]

Next to most of her entries, there was a red [+] symbol, which indicated she could transfer the Experience Points (often referred to as XP) she had earned into storage that would eventually result in her bumping the ranks up. But that was at a terrible exchange rate, since being a Wizard didn’t have much in common with being a Harpist. Apparently, the rules that governed their world decided that Polyhistor did have more in common, and so there was a yellow [+] symbol there. It still wouldn’t get her a new rank, but the exchange rate would be better, limit waste, and get her another level there sooner if she banked the XP.

The last two had green [+] markers. Not only did those mean she would get an actual level in whichever one she wanted, but the entire point had been to acquire magical proficiency. That made those the only real options.

Unfortunately, she didn’t know the difference between them. One of the aggravating holes in the information provided by the status orbs was a lack of firm definitions for certain important terms. Unfamiliar words in descriptions had a way of instinctively making sense, so that the wording of a detailed entry could never confuse you, but there was simply no way of summoning exact definitions for things like racial names, Ability scores, items, and… as she was finding out now… the names of certain level paths. The gods either want to give us a challenge or have bad senses of humor.

The answers would only be found with Katashi, so she left the casting chamber without a backward glance. Further practice would have to wait. This was what she had been reaching for, and any further meaningful progress would only come once she had made her decision on a path to pursue.

Yokïmi was pleased to find the Sage folded into a meditative posture in his private sanctum. She approached from her side of the two-way fire, using the flickering flames to mostly conceal herself. While he wouldn’t take such flagrant advantage of her as Lahni did, her honor demanded that she make it as easy as possible for the man who was trying to protect her.

Knowing she was going through a difficult time, he had given her the unlimited right to interrupt him, but she didn’t want to abuse that privilege. She tossed a pillow on the ground, slipped into a lotus position, and spent a while searching for her own center.

An unknown time later, his voice drifted to her. “Are you merely sharing the peace with me, Darrum? Or do you have questions?”

Her eyes flickered open. She found it odd that even though they appeared crystalline to others, her eyelids served to block out light when she closed them.

“I did it,” she began. It wasn’t where she thought she was going to start, but an echo of her excitement returned. “I cast a spell.”

“Wonderful to hear. Did it open a magical path for you to follow?”

“That’s why I’m here. It opened two. Wizard and Sorcerer. I’ve no idea which to take.”

“Excellent. I didn’t expect any surprises since I have used fairly routine methods to begin your training, but it is nice to see those expectations confirmed. You’ve had enough oddities to deal with in recent times.”

“Was there any doubt?” she asked.

“This is a lesser-known secret that few beyond us Sages care to explore and quantify. The Level progression that governs our lives is not as linear as it may seem. When you upgrade a Level, you unlock new possibilities and powers. Some of these are fixed. For instance, you will receive a certain number of Physical, Emotional, Mental and Soul Damage Points depending on the type of Level you earned. But you might also acquire special add-ons. Access to new Level paths. Techniques, Talents, or Skills. These don’t arrive in a specific order. There is a percentage chance of receiving certain ones based on the Level path you are accessing. You have a greater chance of acquiring lesser powers at lower ranks. But it is not impossible to receive a grand power at a lower Level. Some would call it a gift of the gods, while others believe it to be a pure roll of celestial dice.”

“So, I might have been given a stranger option?”

“Yes. But, unlikely. With access to magic, the far majority of magic wielders do so under the tutelage of a mentor. Even hedge mages learn at the feet of an elder tribal Shaman. Since the mentor controls the way you are taught, the nature of your magical awakening is almost guaranteed to follow the path they lay out for you. Had I forced you to participate in summoning rituals, you would likely have been offered the path of Warlock or Theurgist, depending on if we had focused on summoning demonic or angelic creatures.”

Yokïmi thought she understood and found none of it surprising. I learned Ekanshin style as a Bellatir because that was Haruto’s style and the one my family has embraced for generations. Accepting his explanations as truth, she asked, “Then what separates these two? If I followed your instructions, why did I get two?”

“Because these two are intertwined. Basic Levels like Warrior or Farmer or Priest are more common. You can acquire them simply by applying yourself to a trade and learning by experience and exposure. Magic has an equivalent: Sorcerer. But it is rare that anyone takes it. The complexity of spells is difficult to replicate without a guide. So even though Wizard is classified as a Mentor Level path, and thus normally more exclusive, it tends to be more frequently followed. Though, there are not many of us to begin with. Magic-capable people are a rare breed.”

“Why would anyone become a Sorcerer, then?”

“Wizards will progress faster with a guide to show them the way. But if taken away from their guide, their increase in power will stagnate unless they have already reached a level of knowledge and mastery where they can draw teachings from elder lore or tomes. Eventually, all the greatest Wizards reach a power level where their only real learning can be done by studying the works from elder ages or accomplishing their own great discoveries.”

Again, Yokïmi began to understand. “Sorcerers are not trapped by this.”

“Precisely. Though they evolve more slowly in general terms, they can adapt from experiences gained while roving the world. Cross-XP transfers are not as severe.”

“But as a Sorcerer, could I not use a mentor’s teachings?”

“Of course, you could. Both pathways use approximately the same Techniques. They channel the power resident in material components and conjure supernatural effects. The spells don’t change. But as a Sorcerer, you would require longer periods of practice to advance. It would be… well, call it a mental block imposed on you by your selection. As your mentor, I simply couldn’t advance you as quickly as if you were a Wizard.”

She remained silent, partially overwhelmed by the choice.

“It is a good sign to see you so troubled,” Katashi said with a wizened smile.

“Oh?” Her eyebrow quirked, questioned if he had a mean streak in him.

“It means you can appreciate the serious implications. Even as your mentor of the moment, you never committed to me as a true apprentice. I am aiding you as my Darrum. My only advice will be to suggest your advancement will come easier as a Wizard. Let that guide you.” He unfurled from his meditative pose. “I’ll leave you to ponder your future.” In a swirl of robes, he departed.

Though he had intended his final comment to be a helpful one, she felt the pressure of his expectations. I don’t want to disappoint him. After all he’s done and all that he’s going to do, who am I to ignore his wise counsel?

But her instincts were screaming at her to do the opposite. When I set out from this place to take on my Quest to remove these Curses, he won’t be with me. Can I return here over and over? What if my travels take me to the other side of the world? I’d be forever bound to him or some other mentor to augment my powers. I may not always have that luxury.

The other side of her mind argued back. But other Wizards have gone on adventures before, haven’t they? I wouldn’t be the first. They have managed.

Because they intend to return to their home. Even if they venture out, their paths are circular. Mine will be unknown. I can’t promise to come back, which means I can’t promise to always have a mentor I can trust.

Silence reigned, her opposing point of view not having an answer for that.

She felt regret, for it answered a question she hadn’t dared face until that moment. This isn’t my home. I’m not seeing this place as the end of my road. I wish I could, but… I don’t. I’m never going to commit myself to being Katashi’s true heir. No sense lying to myself.

With a flex of her will, she brought her status orb to her side again. She focused on her Level listing, reached in, and tapped the green [+] icon next to Sorcerer. The XP waiting in their ethereal bank transformed her nature. A small flood of change notifications told her the results.

* Sorcerer level up! *

* Physical Damage Points +4 *

* Mental Damage Points +2*

* Emotional Damage Points +1 *

* Soul Damage Points +1 *

* New Talent Unlocked – Channel Energy from Components now Level 1 *

There it was. The proof that she had burned open a whole new way of interacting with the world. She opened the description for the new power.

Talent: Channel Energy from Components: Level 1

-  This is the fundamental process that enables magic to work without harming a practitioner. The energy for supernatural effects must come from some source. If material components are not linked to the spell, the spell will fail and could do damage to the practitioner as it does.

-  Channeling limits are linked to individual Resilience scores: Physical Spells to Tolerance, Emotive Spells to Stability, Mental Spells to Willpower, Soul Spells to Ego.

-  Current channeling limits:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap Resilience 5 points.

• Low difficulty spells sap Resilience 20 points.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap Resilience 40 points.

• High difficulty spells sap Resilience 80 points.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap Resilience 200 points.

• Superior difficulty spells sap Resilience 500 points.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap Resilience 1000 points.

• Epic difficulty spells sap Resilience 5000 points.

• Divine difficulty spells sap Resilience 10000 points.

-  Current Resilience refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 10 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 20 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 30 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 60 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 90 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 120 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Talent reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

It was a wave of information, and she did what she could to absorb it. It gave her an understanding of her current limits. Since her Resilience (Tolerance) was 32 at the moment, it meant she could channel six Trivial spells like the Create Spark she had used against Lahni, and that it would take her about six hours of good, constant sleep in a safe place to recover from doing it. She could work with that.

Seeing the costs made her wonder how Akuje had managed to do what he had accomplished. He had been using magic almost beyond comprehension. Did he sell his soul to some fell being? But no wonder he seemed to be twisted from the power. He was channeling way beyond what he was capable of surviving. It made her wonder what the cost would be if she dared to reach beyond her own limits.

Bending away from such dark thoughts, she wondered why this was listed as a Talent. Skills reflected more mundane applications of worldly knowledge. Techniques were a little rarer, and they tapped into nature’s supernatural undercurrents to produce remarkable effects. Both could be deliberately trained. Talents, however, were generally more instinctive. You just… did them. They could improve, but it was difficult to focus one’s will and push that improvement along faster. A person simply had to carry on using it over and over.

It seemed this would be the case with her ability to channel magical energy from material items. To open those gates wider, she’d simply have to cast harder and harder magic, challenging the barriers like water wearing away the edges of a dam.

I can do that.

She didn’t hesitate to make that promise to herself. With all that was beyond her control, this wasn’t. The only thing standing between her and seizing her life back was to develop the abilities she’d need to finish whatever Quests she needed to take on. Other people might fail her, but she wasn’t going to fail herself.

Chapter 5

“Two spells for now?” Yokïmi asked, trading between the scrolls on the table as she perused what Hanzo had given her.

“Usually, the master starts his apprentices with the same, four, Low-level spells once we open our channels: Fire Bolt, Minor Mental Message, Cause Mild Fear, and Sense Astral Presence. That’s one for each of the wider types; physical, mental, emotional, and soul-based magic.”

“They are the easiest spells?”

“Depends on the individual to some extent. Some people take to certain types of energy manipulation over others.”

“Is that why Lahni didn’t immediately grow back his hair after he sliced it off?” There was no telling what story the lecherous apprentice had told his peers, but she suspected Hanzo had heard of the earlier events. Most likely by Lahni himself and just as likely slanted to make himself appear more favorable, Yokïmi guessed.

His answering smile was carefully bland, smothering his full amusement at the comeuppance Lahni had received. “Oh, no. He mastered simple hair growth spells long ago. More likely, he didn’t have the components he needed to reverse the slices he made.”

“But he made the cuts with Trivial magic,” she noted.

He made a short, chopping motion. “If done to oneself, it is a Trivial spell. But the regrowth requires Low level magic, and thus stronger components.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, creation always requires more energy than destruction. And affecting oneself is always easiest, followed by the willing, the unknowing, and lastly the hostile as the hardest.”

“Which means,” she mused, “Giving gifts to someone unwilling would be the most difficult magic.”

“And hurting yourself is the easiest. Our master called that a wise lesson to remember, and not only with magic.”

She found a warm smile for him. “Fascinating thoughts. But what then about the spells?”

“Ahh, yes. You see, the four I mentioned are arguably the most common, cast by countless Wizards around the world. They have been perfected over centuries and streamlined to be very gentle in their energy demands. You’ll experience less strain on your various Resiliencies when casting them, so long as your master provides you with a modern variant. And our master has them. He can be traditional at times, but he has no issue with embracing new evolutions in magical processes.”

“I didn’t see any allowance for that sort of variation in the channeling Talent description. The costs were clear for each magic level, and they didn’t waver.”

“Such descriptions never give all the information, do they?” Hanzo offered a shy smile, as if afraid to be joking in front of her. “But yes, the spells themselves can alter the cost they inflict on the user. But there are limits. Usually not more than a point or two difference from a crude spell to a smooth one.”

“However… more is possible? To allow an incredibly potent spell to be cast by a relative amateur?”

“In theory. But the complexity of such a spell increases dramatically. Go too far, and it could render the spell nigh-impossible to cast. You’d need materials of incredible rarity. It would take days to cast. And you’d end up wasting as much of the spell’s energy to protect the caster as you would conjuring the effect.”

“Hmm, I see.” Yokïmi let it go. In the end, she didn’t care that much as to how her brother had done what he had done. It was over. He was dead. And she was changed. She had to focus on how to undo it, not on explaining what he had done.

And so, she helped deflect Hanzo back to the original subject. She had to be careful. He deferred to her far too easily. If she took him down a garden path, they’d never get back to the intended lesson. “You implied that we aren’t starting with those four.”

“The master recognizes your special needs.” Hanzo fought valiantly to stop his eyes from dropping to what little he could see of her glass figure. She was leaning over the table, blocking as much of herself as she could from direct observation.

While she appreciated his effort, the failures of his struggling Willpower seemed to call more attention to his lapses. His heart was in the right place, but while Lahni treated her like a piece of meat he wanted to chew on, Hanzo’s painfully shy slips felt all the more embarrassing. When they happened, his glimpses were if anything more eager, as if he had earned the right for a peek after having fought off the impulses for so long.

“I’m glad,” she said, folding her arms in a way that specifically impeded any view of her hanging breasts and sent a silent but firm glare as chastisement, making it clear she had noticed his wandering gaze. “What was his solution?”

Shame reddened his skin. Unable to meet her eyes, his focus dropped to the scrolls, hurriedly spreading them out for better inspection. “He decided that Grow Nearby Shadows and Conjure Light Fog would be better options. It would give you a ready option in both day and night to cloak yourself.”

“He’s kind to change his methods for me.”

“It’s his nature. He’s never been anything less to any of us, even when we give him cause to snap at us,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Is there anything he’d want you to tell me for getting started?”

“No. The opposite. Better to avoid any preconceptions I might give you which might lead in the wrong direction. If you have specific questions, then find one of us. We’ll answer if we can. Otherwise, I’m sure the master would be pleased to do so.” The emphasis he placed on that suggested it would be to his great shame if he couldn’t handle her queries and had to bother Katashi.

“Then I’ll embrace the challenge as it was intended,” Yokïmi said. “How long until the afternoon practice session?”

“Is it Miunaday already?” Hanzo sounded almost surprised that the new week had crept up on them. “We’ll be in here at four hours past high first-sun.”

She accepted that with a nod, then followed with, “I wouldn’t want to interfere with that. I’ll leave before your set time.” She met his eyes, willing him to understand. “I’d best use what time I have in here wisely.”

“Ahh, yes, of course,” the apprentice Sage mumbled, hearing the heavy hint without much pleasure. “I’ll leave you to it.” He drifted to the casting chamber’s exit. There, he paused. “May I ask…”

“Hmm?” She looked at him sidelong, not turning away from the puzzle waiting for her on the table.

Swallowing his nerves, Hanzo tried again. “Would you accept a gift from me? After all the turmoil you’ve suffered, I’d like to offer you a respite, however brief. I can arrange a carriage that could take us out beyond the city. We could go walking by the Ja’nari stream. I can prepare a basket so we could picnic at the Taresna rapids. A far lovelier vista than anything you would have seen in your trip down the Su’bora.”

“No. I’m not ready to go beyond the walls.” The call of the knowledge locked within the scrolls called her back to them.

“Oh. Umm, perhaps… no, never mind. Until you’ve found your questions, then.” He stepped out and paced away down the corridor. His steps were slow at first, then quickened as they faded until they almost sounded like he was running away.

A nagging suspicion tugged at Yokïmi, preventing her from delving into the waiting work. Did he mean that as a foray into romance? Yes, I believe he did.

In that light, her confusion grew. Have I given him reason to hope in that way? She didn’t think she had, but her experience in such matters was all but non-existent. The dance of flirtation and the games people played were mysteries she had yet to unlock.

For a brief moment, her memory floated to the few times she’d been tempted to learn. Faces began to emerge from the past. A suggestion of sensual temptation came with them…

She shied away, banishing the visions to the back of her mind once more. I cannot invite them in. They aren’t wholesome in Narrum’s eyes.

As protection against such errant thoughts, Yokïmi concentrated on the immediate issue. Her rejection of Hanzo had been abrupt and unsparing of any feelings, if they did exist. For a brief moment, she considered seeking him out to soothe the issue.

She didn’t. Nothing good could come of acknowledging his desires again. Her efforts to set him at ease might open a window of hope if she didn’t word it right. That would only lead to more misunderstandings. He was a kind enough man, but she felt nothing romantic for him. She would not have willfully hurt him, but if the damage was already done, perhaps it was better to leave his wounds to harden into scars. Not like I could have cut him too deeply. We are nothing to each other. I’ll ease back into friendship with him when I am not absorbed with repairing my own life.

And making those repairs required her to master the magic in front of her. She couldn’t allow anything to divert her from that purpose. Not until she was much farther down this path.

*          *          *

Yokïmi relaxed her perception of the world, trying not to focus on any one particular detail. She followed the instructions from the spell, attempting to be aware of the heat of the suns and the brush of air along her skin.

She nervously plucked apart the bob of cotton fluff she was holding until it resembled a spiderweb between her fingers. She tried to establish the energy channel to the cotton, trusting the spell details were correct about it being the right material to power the magic. Then she whispered the activation words, “Fur waff liss.”

Nothing. Not so much as a wisp of fog drifted around the garden.

“Merciful gods, what am I doing wrong?” Her hand clenched around the cotton, crushing it back into a compact ball.

“It isn’t what you are doing wrong,” Parrun said from his perch above her. “It’s what you aren’t doing right.”

She hadn’t really expected an answer, though she knew Parrun had wandered into the garden some time ago. The mashashi had clawed up the side of one of the few trees that created a light canopy of shade against the full power of the afternoon suns. He’d found a spot where the sunlight was breaking through and was lying with his back on a branch so his tummy could soak in the warmth.

Standing straight, she tilted her neck to peer up at him. “That isn’t nearly as helpful as you might think.”

“What if I didn’t intend it to be helpful at all?” The hacking series of feline hisses was what passed for laughter amongst predorans. His smaller frame produced them in a higher note, just shy of whistling.

“Imagine my surprise,” was her dry answer as she rolled her eyes.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Parrun idly stabbed at a few falling leaves with one pointed claw. “You’ve got the load for the cart. You’ve got the road to roll it down. But if you don’t stack the stuff in it and pack it so the weight distribution is right, then every time you get it moving, it will inevitably tumble over and scatter into a mess.”

“Quite the metaphor,” she said, trying not to make it sound too caustic.

“Once you understand the genius of it, you’ll come crawling back for more.”

“Didn’t I hear the others say you knew the least number of spells among them? That you only mastered your first Moderate level spell last month and nothing since?”

“Believing crass rumors can get you in trouble, Lady Kikuchi.”

The playful note in his words hovered on the edge of mischief. She canted her head up to look at his indolent form spread out on the branch. “You’ve never managed it, have you?”

He rolled his head to peer down at her. “That didn’t take you very long. Maybe I’m wrong about how naïve you are.”

“Does it usually take more than a few months to figure out what sort of rogue you are?”

He snickered. “The others haven’t worked it out.”

“Now I’m sure I shouldn’t be taking advice from you.”

“Oooo,” he winced. “See, there you go making bad choices again. Can’t you see I’m the perfect person to be offering you alternate ways of looking at these magical puzzles? Your Father-in-Narrum isn’t an idiot, by any stretch. Do you think he would suffer my presence if I didn’t show an ounce of promise? I’ve learned the least number of spells, but I’ve deciphered each one of them faster than the others. With the time I’ve gained, I’ve filled it all with the simple enjoyment of living my life without the unending stress the others push on themselves.”

“I can’t think like that. I’ve got a purpose.”

“And if your only thought is for this purpose, then what are you?”

She scowled at him. “Why are you here? If you aren’t going to embrace the apprentice life, then why fake it?”

He grinned. “I am. Just not like the others. I’ve got time. And I need to know that being a Wizard is the right way to define myself.”

“You are aware your kind have even shorter life-spans than humanoids, and most of us spend our lives chasing the clock.” Yokïmi folded her arms as she considered the paradox he was suggesting.

“Yeah, sure, but we don’t stay as young and gangly as you humans for nearly so long. Doesn’t it take you months to even learn to crawl?” His laugh came again, this time mocking and prodding her away from sorrowful topics.

She scowled, fighting against his charm but failing in the end. A small burst of laughter escaped her, which she then wrestled back under control. “Well, this is magical crawling, and I can’t take months upon months to learn it.” She sighed. “As much as I may regret it… will you tell me your secret?”

Parrun scratched at a nearby branch, whittling down his claws to sharper points. “It isn’t much of a secret. The others have discovered the same thing, though it took them twice as long. And trust me, knowing it won’t solve every problem. The first couple of spells you learn are going to walk you through hell. There are so many details, and none of the motions and words feel natural. You need to ingrain new impulses, muscle memory, and habits.”

“But?”

“But… you need to allow the magic to flow.”

“Ai ya, that’s your grand wisdom? Flow?” Her scowl returned.

Before her irritation could grow, Parrun explained further. “A recipe on a scroll is a fine starting point. I, for one, have never had the knack for conjuring magic inside pots and pans. But what a difference a true master of the kitchen can make. They know how to look past the surface details. They know when to break the rules as well as follow them. That’s what makes this an art rather than merely a field of study for scholars.”

A lock in Yokïmi’s mind clicked open. I have been thinking of this like one more mundane lesson from a tutor who I can’t wait to send away so I can concentrate on what I love. But that’s the problem. I need to find a new love for this or it will forever remain out of reach.

It was the same joy she felt when playing her harp. While there was precision and technical skill required to make the strings sing, true mastery was achieved when you could invest emotions into the music so the audience felt it. Not only so they felt what the composer wanted to convey with his work, but the impact the melody had on you as the artist interpreting it. There was so much rich meaning to be found between the notes on the page.

“There it is,” Parrun said from his branch. “I think you might have it.” The mischief was gone from his smile, looking actually rather pleased with himself to have brought the light to her eyes. He latched onto the bark and swung down to the ground with the elegant ease that came naturally to his kind. He flicked his bobcat-ears in what she read as feline amusement and sauntered toward the interior. “My value as an apprentice is once more established. And so, I shall go hunting my tribute in the form of that rabbit stew I can smell.”

“My… my thanks,” was all she could say before he was gone. She didn’t want to insult him. Indeed, she was beginning to suspect she owed him far more than such meager appreciation.

But the realization was too profound, and the implications too grand to focus on anything else. I need to find the music infused in the magic. That’s the only way this will become a part of me.

*          *          *

Yokïmi placed her hand on the side door that would take her out of Katashi’s compound. Unlike the front entrance, which opened onto a busy walkway and was intended for customers, this other door was intended for those working in the compound. The apprentices were the only permanent residents, though there were hired servants who came to do occasional cleaning and to refresh the food stocks. This entrance was constructed to minimize being noticed.

Outside the door was a modest-sized market. It didn’t boast any shops with curious wonders or intricate marvels. This market was a functional place, selling food, linen, and utilitarian tools like rolling pins and brooms. For that reason, it was consistently busy each day, but rarely frequented by anyone except common folk and the servants to richer families. The suns hadn’t quite set, but they were low enough that dusk would be shrouding the small square. The normal traffic would be fading as the shops began to close for the night.

If a stranger considered only her nervous expression and rapid breathing as clues, they would think it was a hunting ground for rampaging, rabid bears.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she spoke to herself firmly. “It’s time. You have what you need to make the crossing. Don’t let fear sway you.” Her quick-beating heart suggested that she hadn’t convinced herself. Yokïmi concentrated on slowing her breathing to a more reasonable pace to help slow the pumping of her blood.

Deciding that it might be best to simply get on with her self-challenge, Yokïmi took the first step. She cleared her mind and prepared to cast the Trivial spell that would be her guide when she made the crossing: Sense Presence of Souls. It would only work within about thirty paces of her location, and it wouldn’t pick up on any animals or fae creatures. Only those beings from among the racial triads were said to have souls protected by the gods. They were the only life she’d be able to detect.

However, that was fine with her. She wouldn’t mind if a random dog came up to sniff her hand. It was the judgmental and lustful gazes she wished to avoid. She completed the spell, and twin sensations burned through her.

First came the rush of energy as the dust motes around her were sacrificed and the power for the spell entered her body. The rush of energy faded, once more leaving her with a desire for more. And I’m going to have it. The greater the spell power, the greater the surge of energy, the more incredible the sensation. She could hardly imagine what a Moderate-level spell would feel like. She’d only managed Low-level magic three times, and each one had been a transcendent experience that could easily become addicting. I understand what Parrun said about taking time to enjoy life, but I’ve no idea how he can’t be more enthralled with casting magic if he can feel a rush like this.

Then came the brief, exquisite pain as she endured the transformation of the raw energy into something orderly and supernatural. It wasn’t the same as when she cast a physically-oriented spell. She was casting a net to locate souls which existed on the astral plane, and so the magic made its demands against her own soul. It was her Resilience (Ego) attribute that activated to defend against the pressure. It was an odd feeling, manifesting almost like self-doubt or self-loathing attacking her on a fundamental level, trying to break down her sense of worth and the inherent knowledge of knowing who and what she was. But she was well-rested, and she defeated the challenge with little difficulty.

The next spell will be harder, she knew.

As those two sensations faded, a different one awoke as the magic took shape. The thrill was equally compelling. As if granted an opportunity to see the world with a sliver of the perception of a god, she sensed the souls walking in the market. There were about three-score of them wandering about beyond the wall, blocked from her immediate normal view.

Now for my cover. She reached for her magic once more, this time taking more caution in her movements. She was right on the limits of her casting ability, and wanted this spell to emerge with the maximum strength so as to blanket the entire market.

Elation filled her as the puff of cotton in her palm incinerated into nothingness. Power bloomed inside, this time put into conflict with her body’s physical Tolerance. It felt like the energy was trying to tear her apart from the bones out. It was far closer to her true limits, but the physical nature to the pain also made it familiar. When it passed, she hadn’t suffered a real injury.

She cycled a few more deep breaths, hardly daring to believe her conjuration had succeeded. She could sense it, for a tenuous thread remained hooked to her as the creator of the magic. It was out there, just waiting for her to shove aside the door and see the results of all her efforts.

Summoning her courage, Yokïmi took the leap. Easing open the door, she sucked in an amazed gasp as tendrils of fog wafted back in at her. They immediately dissipated, for she had defined the spell to work only within the confines of the market. She stepped out onto the cobblestones and allowed the door to close behind her.

There she stood, for a long while unable to so much as budge a muscle. She was expecting declarations of shock and outrage. Any of a hundred condemnations she had so often envisioned being cast at her for daring to walk about in her undressed state.

Nothing.

They really can’t see me, she marvelled. The fog isn’t just a figment of my imagination. It’s really here, cloaking me from view. And I’m the one who brought it into existence! It took real effort to refrain from a cry of joy, which would have countered the very concealment she had conjured.

Her sense of souls gave her additional reason for caution as she felt a group of three walking toward her. The Trivial spell didn’t give any sense of identification for the souls. Such things came with more potent versions. But she had no wish to be seen by anyone, so it didn’t matter. Careful to make her steps whisper quiet, Yokïmi padded out into the market, aiming for a specific bare wall between two stalls on the far side. It was an unremarkable feature, selected only because it was directly across the market from Katashi’s compound, and thus touching it would prove her victory. A signal that her isolation inside her Farrum’s home was one step closer to being over.

Using her memory for where the various stalls and shops were placed, Yokïmi combined that knowledge with her soul sensing and gave everyone and everything a wide berth. She heard a few worried voices, and some who actually sounded amused by the sudden fog that had popped up. Merchants began to make a game of it, calling out so that people could follow their voices to the shops. The echoing noise of it all made it easier to keep clear of them, yet harder to remain focused.

In the end, she met her challenge. Her hand pressed against the far wall and she grinned. Such a stupid, small, pointless goal… but I made it. She wanted to etch her name in the wall like a signature as she’d scratched into the bark on high branches when climbing trees as a child.

The connection to her spell wavered and then flickered out.

If her crystalline skin could still pale in fear, it would have done so as her blood began to pump faster. Was I standing there for that long appreciating what I’d done? Did I take that long in the crossing?

There was a definitive time limit on spells. Hers had just run out.

The fog didn’t instantly evaporate. She hadn’t conjured the fog from nothing. The magic had cooled the air and thickened the moisture in it until a mist formed. The process had simply been accelerated and made to happen where it wouldn’t have naturally come about.

However, the warm summer air and the pleasant evening breeze were going to return the pocket of atmosphere to its natural state very soon, and her magic was no longer in place to prevent it. The fog didn’t need to fully vanish for her to be at risk. Once it lost its concealing thickness, she’d be exposed to far too many eyes.

Forgetting about immortalizing her achievement, Yokïmi dashed for safety. The cobblestones which had seemed friendly under her bare feet turned cruel in her haste. Her normally confident balance was disturbed as she feared each footfall and the jabs of irregular stone edges that cut into her skin. She couldn’t even keep both arms extended out, needing at least one to wrap around her breasts to keep them from bouncing painfully as she skipped across the market.

To make matters worse, the locations of the souls around her were becoming increasingly indistinct. She didn’t dare risk the whispered spell that would refresh the effect. It would only serve to distract and perhaps even rattle her. Struggling to remember where she had seen each one and where she had seen them going, Yokïmi ghosted through her weaving path.

A billow of wind caused a break in the fog just as a buxom, matronly woman meandered into view. Her mouth gaped open at the improper apparition that passed in front of her. She wasn’t in view for longer than a few seconds, but it was enough that she was sure something had been there. She let out a loud shriek and stumbled away.

Yokïmi was in between three different shacks and felt trapped. Taking a massive leap of faith in her memory, she grabbed a tomato, threw it in the face of a nearby shopkeeper to stop him from getting any sort of good look at her, then dove over the table he was using to make his sales. She came crashing down on a heaped pile of rice she remembered being there. She wasn’t able to craft a smooth roll out of the impact, but it hurt far less than it would to come down on the cobblestones.

Ducking low, she made a crouched run out the stalls back and between two others that formed a makeshift alley. Stopping while a few more people crisscrossed in front of her, she saw her moment and ran over to the haystack piled up against the compound’s outer wall. Diving in, she dug in deeper, pulling the loose strands in to cover the hole she’d made.

The commotion in the market grew worse, though it never became a full panic as the fog continued to thin and grant the crowd an ever-better view of their surroundings. She heard the woman complaining loudly of the vision she’d seen, encouraging the others to hunt for the errant spirit. A churning turmoil followed as people shouted warnings to each other that there might be a dangerous creature about.

But as proof failed to manifest, the story changed into the sighting being more likely a thief. When the merchants found nothing missing, the one hit by the tomato instead suggested it was a mischief-maker stirring up trouble for the joy of it. The grumpier among them cursed the air while the more light-hearted among them chuckled and waved away the problem, certain to take it home with them as a tale that had made the day a little less boring. Only two of the city’s watchmen continued to search the darker corners for a tad longer. Then they, too, gave it up and went about their business.

Wormed deep into the hay, Yokïmi curled in on herself and did the only thing she could: wait for the dark of night to cover her enough to slip back through that door while wishing that the throbbing in her tormented feet would fade.

Ready for a Quest? Hah. I’m not even ready to walk about the city. The magic I’ve discovered is good, but it isn’t everything I’m going to need. Guess I’m going to need a different sort of help from Farrum if I’m ever going to be free.

Chapter 6

“Is this truly where you want your focus to be, my Darrum? This list of spells you have asked for me to provide do not seem the best way to spend your time. They seem… rather cosmetic.”

She arched her eyebrow at him, hoping the motion was effective at conveying a respectful but firm challenge. “Oh? And which ones struck you as most superfluous?”

Disappointment crossed his features. “Ahh. That’s not precisely what I meant.” He rubbed at one temple. “Or perhaps it was. I will always try to support your choices. But… forgive me, the ability to cut and sculpt one’s hair does not seem of immediate importance.”

“Recall that I can’t actually see my skin any longer, Farrum. Would you take a razor to your beard while your eyes were closed and fingers numb? I’d say that would be less dangerous.” She raised a stern finger to caution him. “Ask not what I need to trim. My training in the dojo has enamoured me to being and feeling clean. Traveling on the road will only make clinging dirt and sweat feel all the worse if I do not groom myself properly.”

He frowned in thought, then seemed to accept her arguments. “But what of this need to create clothes of air?”

“Breasts are soft.” Yokïmi looked him square in the eye.

“Yes. I… I am aware,” Katashi stammered ever so slightly. Unlike Lahni, his Willpower, long experience, and role as her Father-in-Narrum proved sufficient for him to avoid glancing down, even with her direct reference.

“Believe me,” she said. “It isn’t entirely pleasant to run without the least bit of support. That is saying nothing about the discomfort of pushing through thorny bushes with bare skin. My skin looks like glass, but it is as vulnerable as it ever was. Or what of burning my feet on sun-bleached stones?”

“I understand all that.”

“There are other matters I could bring up, Farrum. You’re a Sage. You’re aware of a woman’s needs, so I’ll spare you the embarrassment of listing them here. But existing as I am, I cringe even from sitting upon a chair! Imagine the filth I might end up touching where I would least want to be touched by it.” She let out a disgusted little shiver.

He took a long breath, then surrendered a nod of acceptance. “All things a person capable of wearing clothing takes for granted.”

“Which I no longer can,” Yokïmi insisted.

“But you see the difficulty? Even if I can find spells to do all you wish, that will exhaust so much of your magical energy each day. Perhaps even several times a day. You’ll be forever hampered by this.”

“What choice do I have?” she demanded. “My feet might grow used to walking on rough ground. But I’m not fond of the idea of scarring my body so badly that I don’t feel thorns any longer. And my other concerns won’t vanish simply because I will them away.”

“Give me a moment. Allow me to think.” With a groan, Katashi struggled to his feet so he could pace. It took him a few times across the casting chamber before the answer came to him. “Come to think of it, I may have heard of magic that might help. About a decade ago, a colleague of mine related an amusing tale. He crafted a unique spell for a Geisha who specialized in sensually acrobatic dancing to entice her privileged clientele. Her performance was done nude. He called the spell ‘Phantom Body Sheath’, from what I recall.”

“That… that sounds like it might be perfect,” Yokïmi said cautiously. “It wouldn’t be like wearing a corset or a girdle? They can create alluring effects under the cover of a dress. But they use pressure and rather impractical lifting. I would seem rather squished.”

“It was a rather elegant type of magic. Remember, this was intended for a Geisha, not a common whore. Her artistry required her to display a sculpted, perfect body while guarding against the foulness and grime she didn’t want to be touching with her naked skin.”

“Such a dance would be marvellous to see,” Yokïmi whispered with a trace of mild yearning. She’d never witnessed such a thing, and wasn’t quite able to picture it. “It must have been beautiful.”

“I never saw her perform. Perhaps for the best.” Katashi said. Any regret in his voice was overpowered by a note of disapproval, as if chastising himself for the weakness of temptation. It carried the added implication that she shouldn’t be sorry for missing the opportunity either, given her station in life. “However, understanding the Geisha’s intent, she wouldn’t be satisfied if the magical garment flawed her while it supported and protected her.”

“Your friend won’t mind sharing his knowledge?”

“We’ve traded enough favors over the years that we’ve stopped accounting for them. It’s a unique spell, but it’s also not a dangerous one or even a very powerful one.”

She chewed on all the details, liking everything she was hearing. “Why does this seem too good to be true?

He sighed. “Because there remains the key problem that you’ll have to conjure the spell each and every day when you aren’t safe at home.”

“Are there any options?”

He began to pace again, frowning deeply. “I’ve adapted spells several times before. But such changes are costly.”

“How so?”

“Power must come from somewhere. Powerful spells require vast quantities or often-expensive material components. In this case, we are speaking of creating a way for you to power this spell without relying on your own daily effort.”

“But the spell is a Trivial one, you said.”

“Which is the only reason this might work. If we tried to increase the power level, it would cost far more. As it is, you will have to sacrifice part of your family’s riches.”

Yokïmi’s throat went a touch dry. The small treasure her father had entrusted to Katashi was for precisely the sort of emergency when she couldn’t make it back to their family’s castle and had a desperate need. Among the other smaller items, her mother had left the sizable diamond that had been a central element in her dowry, supposedly blessed by one of Narrum’s Clerics as a symbol of her ever-lasting devotion to her husband. The idea of ever selling it was ludicrous, so it remained under the watchful eye of his lifelong friend should they need it for a ransom or other unforeseen event. Such as to empower a novel spell to make Quests for their glass-skinned daughter possible.

Reading her expression, Katashi nodded. “Yes, the diamond. It will be necessary. I don’t have to tell you how special it was to them. Are you sure you wish to use it this way?”

“They loved me,” she said with confidence. “And now they’re gone. I have to believe that if they had the choice, they’d rather aid me now than keep a symbol in a vault to forever gather dust. Craft your magic, Farrum. My future travels are in your hands.”

*          *          *

“…vax arden wer muonik a jeykess ke imlaut turnegh vur gul kas morne lur veythloilfrey.” Katashi finished the prolonged intonation, which was merely the last in a series. He flicked a finger against his thumb on both hands, creating a double snap far louder than the skin-on-skin contact should have been able to produce. A bright spark ignited along with the sound, both of which arced in opposite directions, skipping from one open incense saucer to the next that were laid out in a circle around Yokïmi. The air around her was soon filled with billowing smoke that smelled heavily of cedar. Rather than swirl aimlessly, the smoke wafted around her body.

At first touch, the swirling air tickled. The smoky essence kept tight to her skin, as if she was wearing a thick stocking that covered her from neck to toes. The speed of the mist increase, and she felt the wind of it rippling over her, breaking on her various curves.

Then a spark of light appeared on her left forearm. She was holding very still as Katashi had instructed her, balancing her mother’s diamond there. The gem was now shining with brilliant white radiance and began drawing the smoke into it. As she watched, the diamond began to sink into her skin, disappearing from sight until all she could see was a faint glow of its light.

And then… all that remained was her body.

Hardly daring to hope, she asked, “Did it work?”

Katashi sank back on his haunches in a kneeling position, looking rather pleased with himself. He was breathing hard and looking somewhat haggard, as if he had just run a great distance. “Excellent.”

“So… it did work?” Yokïmi scanned all over her arms and legs, seeing nothing different. The magic he had cast had been far beyond anything she could have contemplated trying. For over an hour, the Sage had been chanting and carving runes in the air, assembling spell components around her in various geometric patterns, all of it leading up to this… and yet, she could see nothing different. She wriggled her toes and swiveled her hands in the air, but they felt the same.

“I should think so,” he replied, letting out a relieved sigh. “Otherwise, I would weep over the waste of your mother’s prized diamond.”

“How can you tell?” she had to ask.

The Sage didn’t look doubtful. But rather than try to convince her, he gestured at her forearm. “Go on. Activate it. All you need to do it tap the spot right where it glows. The diamond is embedded in your arm and will remain there.”

She did as he asked. With two joined fingers, she gave the location a light tap.

A wispy white mist flowed out past her skin and swirled around her whole body in the blink of an eye, only to fade from sight.

Her breath caught as she waited. Nothing else happened. Her Curse didn’t activate, as it seemed like there was nothing covering her. “How do we test it?”

“Like this.” He plucked up a riding crop laid on the ground nearby and smacked across the side of her right thigh with a crisp whack!

Yokïmi yelped, startled enough that she jumped to one side… then, realized there hadn’t been any real pain. She’d felt it to be sure, but the impact hadn’t been painful.

“That could have been a branch that hits you while running through the woods,” Katashi explained. “How did it feel?”

“Fine. Have the nerves been dulled?” That wasn’t what she wanted, though she was aware it might be the cost the spell would enact upon her.

“Not continuously. That’s one of the benefits of you making such an important sacrifice. That diamond is quite impressive. Selling it might have bought you a whole new life. Used as a component for this spell, it has granted you some flexibility in your magical protection. Run your hands slowly over your skin.”

She did. The sensation was exactly as it always had been.

“Rub into them like a masseuse.”

She did, and let out a soft groan. Not as delicious as having another person do it, but still a sweet glimmer of pleasure to enjoy.

“Now scratch. Hard and fast.”

Sucking her lip between her teeth, ready to bite it to silence a scream, she dug her nails into one of her calves – and felt them skip and skate over the contours of her leg, not causing so much as a white mark as they passed.

Her lips parted as she gasped in surprised delight. “What a wonderful magic! And this will last forever?”

“Not forever. The diamond will act like a reservoir. Eventually, it will be used up. The more frequently you use it, and the more often it has to repel things, the faster it will fade. You would need to roll on a thorny bush for fifty years straight to wear it out. Assuming you do nothing so foolish, then you should be able to stretch it out for most of your life.” He held up a finger in caution. “Remember it will only prevent superficial damage. It isn’t armor. It will also support your body as you wished. Walk normally, and your curves will move naturally. But if you run, it will activate to support you. It shall also form a breathable but protective barrier that will simulate the benefits of clothing. Not that I anticipate you visiting many taverns, but you shouldn’t be worried about sitting into a strange chair.”

“What a grand gift, Farrum. Truly.”

“Actually, I believe it will end up listed under one of your Quirks. That said, I think my construction of the magic was suitably flawless.” Pride was evident in his tone.

She briefly wondered if the spell could be improved upon over time, but she set aside the thought. I’m a long way from reshaping spells to suit my whim, and I’m not going to ask Farrum to spend his time researching how to improve this spell further. He’s already done enough.

“It’s already a gift that will save me pain, so I won’t mock it for what it might lack,” was all Yokïmi chose to say. “I… I can’t imagine how I can ever thank you.”

“Well, it was nice to stretch my magical abilities a bit. This was nearly at my limits.”

“For so small an effect?”

He nodded. “I know it must seem so from your perspective. But there was incredible nuance required to adapt my friend’s spell into a long-term, repeatable effect linked to the diamond.” He settled back onto the floor, still recovering. “You give me much credit, but in the world of Wizards, I am hardly a noteworthy name. Certainly not an Archmage who can craft immense constructs to suit their grand purposes.”

“Don’t speak ill of yourself, Farrum. This Gift is the miracle I needed. I’m sure my mother is smiling down from Narrum’s heaven in forgiveness for using her diamond. She would want me to find my way in the world. I know it.”

Katashi left that topic as finished. “If you’ll give me a few minutes to rest?”

“There’s no reason to rush,” Yokïmi said, admiring her arm that looked utterly unchanged, bouncing it off the ground to sample how she could both feel the stone yet not the abrasion of its rough surface, like she was wearing leather clothing as protection.

The Sage contemplated another of their earlier conversations. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you the power to go invisible at your whim. Even the simplest version of Invisibility is a Moderate-level spell. I’ve no issue with copying out a scroll for you to study when you are ready, but that will take time. You confided in me that your Tolerance score is 32, and your cost for Moderate spells is 40. Which means you’ll either need to build the score or improve your channeling Talent to lower the cost before using Invisibility will be an option.”

“The latter seems more likely,” she mused.

“Indeed. Many things can build your Tolerance, from obtaining levels to Gifts to Quest rewards. But none of them are easy. Far better to use your magic and gradually progress your Talent rank. Even one more rank might bring the cost of a Moderate spell into reach.”

“Do you have any other ideas?”

“I do. The first is to instruct you in a minor form of Elemental Resistance. These Quests of yours might not always take place during the summer. While the Phantom Body Sheath will offer some very minor protection to heat and cold, you’d be wise to acquire stronger countermeasures.”

Yokïmi nodded, not about to question that logic.

“And second, though we hope your voyages will be peaceful, no one can promise you that. You have your Bellatir art, but I would be remiss if I didn’t offer you at least one spell that can be used to defend yourself.”

“Hanzo mentioned the Fire Bolt spell your apprentices normally learn early in their tutelage.”

A fond smile appeared on his face as he thought of the young man. “Parrun learned it a touch more rapidly, but I’ve never seen anyone conjure a Bolt with the same panache as Hanzo.”

“Lahni seems more the sort for brass showmanship,” she said with a waspish undertone.

“Perhaps. But Hanzo has an affinity for elemental magic. Fire in particular. I groom my apprentices for a time, but it won’t be long before I’ll be sending him to petition as an apprentice to one of the few Pyromancers I know.”

“He doesn’t feel like the sort of man who would play with fire out of joy,” she admitted.

“There are hidden corners to most people. He doesn’t let everyone see that side of him. You’d need to have a closer friendship.”

Unable to blame Hanzo for keeping his secrets since she was the one who had deliberately kept distance between them, Yokïmi conceded the point. She strolled over and ran a finger along the shelf of spell scrolls he kept in the casting chamber for immediate use. They weren’t his entire set of spells; only the ones his apprentices would refer to and practice most often. “And so, Fire Bolt?”

“I’m thinking not,” he said, tapping one finger against his chin in thought. “You’re not a normal apprentice, and it feels wrong to treat you as such. I’d like to offer you a chance to learn something special.”

“Hmm?” This time, her raised eyebrow was in interest, not challenge.

“At first, I considered going for the opposite. Icy Bolt is another useful elemental attack. But it is merely the other side of the same coin.” He rose from the ground, recovered enough to stride over to a table and lift up a scroll he had apparently brought with him from his private collection. He unraveled it and presented it for her appraisal. “Your musical and martial arts have both taught you to appreciate precision. I believe this will suit you well.”

He retreated, giving her the space to approach the scroll. She read its title. “Minor Razor Beam.”

“It produces a Low-level cutting ray. While at this level, it will not slice through anything, you might find it useful in situations other than a fight.”

“Preparing me to escape from a prison in my future?” she offered with a light jest.

Rather than laugh, he quirked his own eyebrow in a mocking way. “Don’t be so quick to dismiss the possibility. Not every prisoner is jailed for righteous reasons, especially not when far from home in strange lands with even stranger laws based on the whims of local kings.”

“Ahh. Point well taken, Farrum. I hope to never use it for that, but you’ve convinced me. I’ll take it on as my next challenge.”

“Excellent.”

She said nothing else as he turned to go. Her attention was already being drawn into the new spell and the puzzle it offered. Parrun had been right in suggesting she needed to find love for magic, and she could feel it growing stronger each day. Unrolling this scroll felt remarkably similar to how she felt when being introduced to a new piece of harp music. The complexity was daunting, but the prospect of hearing the melody come alive on her strings never failed to compel her to master it.

She embraced the allure, knowing every new mastery brought her a bit closer to the independence she yearned to recapture.

Chapter 7

“What are you trying to show me up here?” Yokïmi asked with fatigue dripping from every word, her feet dragging like lead over each stair. The ascent into Katashi’s tower was only a few storeys, hardly enough to exhaust her on a typical day. Haruto had forced her to take the castle stairs from the cellar to the highest tower at a run on more than one occasion to build endurance.

But the day had been filled with failure, capped by an ill-advised attempt to study the rudimentary elements of the Invisibility spell. She felt drained, and wanted nothing more than to retreat to her chamber and lounge in front of the fire in a boneless heap.

Parrun had intercepted her and somehow convinced her into following him to witness what he called an unmissable spectacle. He waved her forward toward the last window set into the spiraling staircase. They were just below the tower’s summit, which contained Katashi’s private retreat, the mechanism for the clock he maintained for the township, and his observatory. Not even Lahni, who was his senior apprentice, was allowed into that area.

“You’ve been cloistered in that casting chamber for almost three days straight,” Parrun complained. “And that’s after two months of slightly lesser obsession. I’ll bet you didn’t even know this was happening right under your nose!” He flung wide the shutters and gestured grandly out over the town.

Having come this far, Yokïmi didn’t deny her curiosity. She stepped to the edge and took in the vista.

All three moons were bright and full. Accentuating their silvery light were hundreds of lanterns set up on long poles lining every street in view. It was far more than the town’s watchmen normally kept lit to help people find their way on late-night strolls. The combined light didn’t banish the shadows entirely, but it was more than enough to create a festive, welcoming environment even with the suns setting.

Scattered below those lanterns were scores of performers and artisans all plying their trade. Jugglers added to the light by throwing batons of fire in the air. Artists applied cheerful splashes of color to the faces of children, selecting paints that were luminous and reflected the moonlight, turning the young ones into urchin spirits filled with laughter as they ran from one spectacle to the next. Two platforms being used as stages for theater troupes were lit up with their own torches while actors dressed for their various roles did their best to captivate the onlookers.

The specific details of the dazzling display were new to her, but the scene when taken as a whole and measured against the date became somewhat familiar. She had seen it twice before in her younger life. “The Fall Equinox Festival? It can’t be that time already… could it?”

“Tsk, tsk. Didn’t I warn you about letting the days and weeks and months creep by without stopping to smell the roses, hmm?” Parrun leaned against the window frame at a jaunty angle.

Sparing him a reproving frown, Yokïmi’s attention wandered back out toward the festival. Memories surfaced of being out among the people. Here, so far from the seat of their family’s power, there had been a relaxing of their normal discipline. They could never forget that they were nobles, but her father had allowed his children a touch more liberty. To show their youthful enthusiasm and joy. She remembered glancing back and seeing him linked arm in arm with her mother, the pair of them whispering quietly to each other as they watched their children savor the sights and sounds. That was them being parents instead of a lord and lady grooming their offspring. I wish I’d seen that more often.

“Why are you showing me this?” she asked, tugging herself back into the present, burying the memories before they turned painful.

“Why? What an odd question. You need to be out there.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Do I look like a semeoa?” He swept a hand over his head, slicking back his bobcat-ears, only for them to pop back up to standing. “Cat-kin can be silly, but predorans aren’t. That’s a rule in our world.”

“Ahh, yes. I’d forgotten you were the quintessential rule-follower.”

His clever smile reappeared. “Just because I’m a mashashi who happens to have a refined sense of which rules need following and which do not doesn’t make me silly. How dare you imply such a thing?” He spun his finger in an airy gesture, dismissing the wordplay. “Look, our master had gone to a gathering of high-born to drink wine and celebrate the coming harvest. Hanzo wandered out to poke around with his friend from the Church of Narrum. Even Lahni hooked up with his typical cohort, off kicking dogs or robbing orphans or whatever else castoffs from rich families do to fill their empty hearts.”

The description of Lahni struck too close for Yokïmi’s comfort, remembering the crazed accusations Akuje had thrown about during his rampage.

Seeing her discomfort, even though he couldn’t possibly know the source, Parrun hurried to say, “I can walk with you, if you’re uncertain.”

“No,” she said, a tad too quickly. Not wanting to replicate the hurt she’d done to Hanzo, she added, “Don’t you see that anyone walking beside me would only draw attention? My only way to exist out there is to be unseen. I couldn’t bear to simply… be out there like this.”

“The burden of modesty, huh?” Parrun shrugged. “Might be worth it to visit a predoran colony one day. We don’t worry about such things. Only time I wore clothing there was to strap up my dangling bits when I went on a hunt, but that had more to do with –”

“– I get the idea,” she interrupted, not needing him to offer her further imagery that would make the visualization clearer.

His grin had reasserted itself. “Fine. Then go alone. Look at all the deep shadows out there. Remember, you’re hard to see. And eyes slide right off you. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d probably forget you’re even in the compound most days. Use that to your advantage. Keep your Grow Shadows spell at the tip of your tongue. Smother yourself in darkness if anyone gets too close. But you need to see more than these walls, and this festival is the perfect chance. Do you know how many weird performers, artisans, and pranksters are out there tonight? You could probably walk around openly and barely anyone would think twice.”

That was a bold exaggeration, and they both knew it. Hu’na’la wasn’t the strictest nation when it came to traditional values like modesty and politeness, but it was in competition for the prize. There was simply not enough easy living space, and the population was crowded into the cities and towns constructed between the craggy high lands and the ever-present volcanos. Respect, politeness, modesty, and deference were survival techniques in these lands.

But Yokïmi understood what he was trying to say. The distraction offered by the town-wide festival would give her opportunities to slip among the townsfolk unnoticed. Then again, it might also get me arrested and offer me the chance to perfect my Razor Beam to get out of the watchmen’s hold. She sighed. “I’m not sure if you are a bad influence or the only one trying to keep me sane.”

“Can’t it be both?” Parrun waggled his eyebrows, then skipped off down the stairs. “I’d say I’d see you out there, but if I did, that would mean you’d messed everything up!”

Not even trying to get in the last word with him, Yokïmi let him chortle his way down the stairs while she focused on the festival again. I want to. I’m shocked at how much I do. I would’ve thought that folly in the market would have taught me the virtue of taking the safe path.

Going out there was a risk. And no matter how she looked at it, it wasn’t a good one. From a practical standpoint, there wasn’t a thing to be gained by going out there.

She sighed as she caught sight of Parrun slipping out of the side door and darting away into the night. The mashashi was soon lost in the darkness, and though he wasn’t as flighty as his semeoan cousins might be, she had no doubt that he would enjoy himself by getting into trouble.

Fine. But if I get caught, I’m going to string him up by his tail for sticking his nose in and planting this idea.

*          *          *

Once again, Yokïmi paused before heading into the open. This time, her spell selection was to Erect a Minor Mental Shield. The pressure on her brain was like a headache, but her Resilience (Willpower) held any real pain at bay. It was a Trivial spell, which meant it wouldn’t stop any Wizard with serious ability from cracking open her mind, but at least she wasn’t vulnerable to any magically capable rogue.

She would have to remember to refresh the protections if she was out for more than a couple hours. After experimenting with it a few times with the help of Katashi, they had determined that the Curse of Weakened Mental Shields was the least potent and not nearly as vicious, but it whittled away any conjured mental protection far faster than spells of that variety were supposed to fail.

Five points already gone, and I need to save five more in case the shields fail right when I need them. Ten points just to remain safe out there. It irritated her. While casting those spells over and over would help her perfect them, it was a tax on her that other Wizards didn’t have to endure. In any magical contest, she’d always be entering them with a fraction of her power already frittered away.

But not tonight. Not unless something goes extremely wrong.

As a final precaution, Yokïmi plucked the silver mark she’d left on a nearby table. After using the family’s diamond to empower her protective magic, the remaining fortune hidden away in Katashi’s safe wasn’t much. She wouldn’t complain, for it was more than many common folk would see in one place in a lifetime, and her Father-in-Narrum had been providing her with everything she needed without depleting it.

The silver mark represented a small percentage of what she could call hers, but she couldn’t waste it thoughtlessly. Given that she couldn’t buy much for herself, she didn’t have any particular notion of what she might spend it on, but she decided it would be a good idea to have at least some coin to spend. She wasn’t a thief by any means, and one could never tell when it might be useful.

Palming the coin, the distortion of seeing it through her skin made it fuzzy and indistinct, enough that she was sure no one would easily see it floating through the air. She pushed open the door and stole away into the dark. Mapping out the lanterns, she took advantage of where the shadows got confused with the overlapping moonslight. That’s where her indistinct figure would be missed, and where those who might catch a hint of her would blink, lose track of her, and immediately decide they hadn’t really seen the ghost she had become.

Old memories resurfaced again as she recognized landmarks from her past visit. Chief among them was the shrine to Oleura, Goddess of Nature and Renewal, one of the few deities with a significant following in Hu’na’la. The Clerics of Narrum used subtle suppression rather than heavy-handed tactics, but it had been no less effective. But on the Festival of the Fall Equinox, the Clerics were conspicuous in their absence, ceding the night of harvest celebration to the Goddess who governed it, and whose anger might result in many people starving over the winter.

Normally, the shrine was a pretty place, decorated with sparse flowers and laden with small tokens of fruit from the surrounding farms. For the Festival, it had been transformed. Dozens of flower bouquets had turned it into a riot of color. The baskets of food were overflowing, and the gifts of bounty were free for any passerby to take a small sampling.

Yokïmi recalled Suta had once tried to sneak three apples, more than was considered polite. She’d caught him, nearly bringing him to tears, but she didn’t remember the moment with any frustration or ill feelings. He’d been too young and innocent to know what he’d been doing and why it wasn’t right. A smile dawned on her lips when she also remembered what he did after, once she had gone to one knee and explained the reason. He’d sniffed, nodded his understanding, then skipped over to a cute, commoner girl and given her the apple. Wiping a tear away before it made any progress down her cheek, Yokïmi ventured deeper into the town.

With a bit of surprise, she discovered it wasn’t only the landmarks she found familiar. Most of the performers were different as young, fresh talent had emerged to replace those who had played when she was last there. Older talent had moved on from the town or retired from their busking. But some were still plying their Skills, especially those who were local townsfolk adding their own talent to make the Festival more enjoyable. She saw one old artist drawing caricatures of people, making them laugh by exaggerating their features. Another couple were creating a story with frayed hand puppets. Yokïmi recognized the same if increasingly worn dolls she had been delighted with as a child.

A thread of music summoned her back to the present. A violinist, flautist, and luthier were weaving a lovely tribute to the season, replicating a composition she recognized as Autumn Wind Kissing Cheeks, originally written by Sasaki Miano, a composer laureate to the Koshaku princes’ court.

Entranced by the sound, she drifted closer. The small courtyard had a dip toward the center. The effect mimicked an amphitheater well enough for her to believe the musicians had selected this spot on purpose.

Lingering on the outskirts of the courtyard, Yokïmi walked into the shadow of a golden statue. She didn’t recognize the sculpture from the past, but had to assume it was only painted that color. She couldn’t believe the town could afford a life-sized replica of a woman captured in a dancer’s pose if crafted from solid gold. It didn’t much matter, for it offered her a delightful vantage to consider the musicians giving life to the beautiful piece.

They were an unlikely trio.

An elderly woman was playing the violin, her pinched face more suited to scolding foolish youths, but it had paused in its judgment to allow a ray of sunnier emotion to shine forth.

The flautist was a squat, bulldoggish variant of the duggin race. The canine jawline common to the lupin racial triad wasn’t well suited to creating the embouchure necessary for a flute, but this duggin had found a way for the love of his music. The smallfolk lupin wended his way through a lilting solo in a display of deft Skill.

Waiting for his duggin colleague to finish, the luthier wove her way back into the piece with admirable precision, especially for one her age. Yokïmi would have been surprised if the girl had ten years behind her, yet she plucked the strings with real confidence.

Looking closer, Yokïmi realized how unusual the girl’s confidence really was after noticing the girl’s larger eyes, evidence of growing tusk-like teeth in her lower jaw, and the overly square shape to her face. The clues suggested there was orcish blood in her. Half-bloods weren’t common anywhere, but even less so in Hu’na’la. For the girl to have acquired such talent and sense of self when burdened with being a visible outsider from birth was a noteworthy feat.

Yokïmi was smiling. It was a lovely thing to realize, and to also know the smile was coming from a sense of light-hearted contentment. Waltzing among the Festival, appreciating the memories and artistry floating around her… this was what she wanted to be doing. She could almost forget that she was trapped on the outskirts, creating the dangerous illusion that maybe she could walk out among the crowd and find acceptance.

All of her fascination vanished between one heartbeat and the next as the statue beside her moved.

The change was graceful rather than sudden. It wasn’t meant to startle her. The statue’s flowing pivot was timed to the music, reacting to the re-emergence of the violin as the key instrument as the trio swelled into the composition’s climax. The dancer figure had been facing away from Yokïmi. It turned now toward her, shifting balance onto its left foot while artfully pointing the toes on the right. The statue’s right arm extended into the air in a gesture to encourage people to pay attention to the music, while the left opened over its heart, suggesting how deeply the music was striking the figure. The reverent joy expressed by the statue’s pose carried onto its face. Its face angled away from the playing trio, as if the trio was too angelic to bear looking upon.

That was precisely what Yokïmi found herself thinking of the golden figure. She hadn’t paid nearly enough attention as she approached, too focused on the music. Her appreciation reached new levels as the statue’s true nature was revealed. The golden hue was indeed paint, but it was covering the flesh-and-blood of a human instead of stone or metal. Yokïmi couldn’t imagine the discipline it had taken to remain still for the minutes she had been in range. The etched muscles of the statue’s… no, the woman’s core and the lithe, sinewy lines of her limbs weren’t the imagining of a sculptor. They were necessary to this street artist’s performance, and the result of what had to be unimaginable hours of flexibility and strength training.

Bands of fabric coiled around her breasts and midriff, fulfilling the demands of modesty while allowing her poses and transition to remain uninhibited. The performer had obviously taken considerable pains to ensure her covering garment was flawlessly matched to the golden paint on her skin, adding to the illusion of her being crafted from a single block of precious metal.

Everything about the still-life dancer drew Yokïmi in. An unconscious stirring made her want to trace a light hand from the seductive outer curve of the dancer’s breast, to admire the slender perfection of her trim waist, then glide over the lean curve of her hip and explore along the elegantly-sculpted thigh beyond.

The sensation wasn’t entirely foreign. On occasion, the same temptation had awoken when Ayaka posed for her in painting practice. A mirror to that feeling had come when Yokïmi had posed for her attending lady in turn, especially when she had lowered the shoulder of her kimono ever so slightly and witnessed the sultry spark it had brought to Ayaka’s eyes as she hurried to capture every detail on canvas.

Yokïmi couldn’t deny feeling similar urges during less opportune times, such as during lessons in the dojo. The pounding of her heart when pinning Rana to the mat, and perhaps even more compelling when Rana would lock her to the ground and hover over her…

It was as far as such moments had gone. Matters of decorum, duty, and expectation always returned. She had been their lady. She was her father’s daughter. She was the master of her own self, and her Willpower and emotional Stability had curtailed such ill-advised fantasies.

Confronted with this vision of perfection, that self-control felt awfully fragile.

So enraptured she was, that it took her far too long to realize that the statue-artist was looking back at her.

Yokïmi froze nearly as still as the performer, snared by the woman’s eyes which had fluttered open. No doubt, the statue-artist had probably felt safe with her head turned away from the crowd. Her intent had probably been to take a small break of having her eyes closed, perhaps using the chance to reorient herself to the world before making her next move.

Instead, the performer had opened her eyes to see a crystalline woman standing only a few paces away, staring back at her with what Yokïmi feared would seem like far too much longing. The statue woman’s eyes were wide, and what should have been a peaceful expression of musical enjoyment was turned into one of stunned apprehension.

And then… changed again into a wondering smile. It was the sort of smile that might have been impossible on any other night. Yet with the final strains of a great composer’s music playing over the courtyard, mingled with the intermixed light of the lanterns and moons, and suffused with the gentle good will in the Festival air, this was the perfect time for magic. Her smile came with a natural purity, as if it as only right that she would see a kind and beautiful spirit wandering among the crowd.

It was a smile to melt Yokïmi’s troubled heart. A smile that brushed away the hardships, both those gone past and those waiting in her future. There was nothing in that smile but a returned appreciation. The woman clearly found the glass-spirit she was seeing beautiful, and that unabashed compliment warmed Yokïmi to her soul.

Ai ya, what are you doing? The inner chastisement broke through the surreal moment. Snapped back reality, Yokïmi whispered the chain of magical words and tugged the nearest shadows around her body. Stepping back into their embrace, she flitted along the closest courtyard wall, blended into the darkness, then went absolutely still. She watched in breathless hope that she had severed the link.

Her success was immediately evident. Leaving her statue-artistry forgotten, the woman went into a crouch upon her performance pedestal, squinting into the courtyard shadows. Her hunting gaze trailed in the wrong direction, telling Yokïmi all she needed to know.

As the music’s crescendo trailed off to signal the end of the piece, another performer strode over to stand by the statue-artist’s side. He had a mesh bag of various sized balls slung over one shoulder, suggesting he was a juggler of some kind. “What’s the matter, Nua? It isn’t like you to break character until the people wander off.”

“Not sure you would believe me,” the statue-artist said, not sparing so much as a glance at crowd as it dispersed. Quite a few filtered by the pair, and no doubt would have dropped coins in the woman’s open pouch had she been displaying her talent. As it was, they gave polite nods and little else as they left in search of new entertainments.

“Oh, ho, that sounds like a promising tale. Tell me over an ale. I’m going to meet Saino as his troupe is finishing its last show. He wanted to toast their resounding success.”

Nua paused her search for Yokïmi long enough to give him a mocking look. “Is that how he put it?”

“Well, it is the first time they’ve gotten any sort of patronage from the Shizoku. That’s a victory no matter how well the play went. But rumor has it one of the lord’s minions was going to be there to watch the second showing. If he liked it, then they will be engaged to perform before the Shizoku himself during the winter months.”

“Waiting to be called in to cure his boredom on a cold afternoon,” Nua said with an edge of light cynicism, going back to scanning the shadows.

“Waiting for their chance to be lauded by the Shizoku and perhaps rise to fame,” the juggler suggested.

She grew a smile. “Fair words, my friend. I was being sour. You’re right. That sounds like it’s worth celebrating.” She scoured the darkness one last time, then sighed. “Enough of this. Let’s go see if they’ve got a story worth telling. Then I’ll share mine.” She stepped off the pedestal, leaving it where it was. Like the stages scattered about the streets, the small platforms were the property of the town put in place for the Festival. She gathered up her splayed purse, pulling the strings tight around the few coins she had earned since setting up in that spot.

Once she was ready, her juggler friend led the way down the street. “Oh, and listen to this. I was in the middle of tossing four cantaloupes…” They moved too far away to be heard.

Yokïmi smiled, glad that they weren’t letting the strange encounter ruin their night. While she wouldn’t be able to partake directly in their sort of fun, she decided she wanted to see it.

Their destination wasn’t hard to figure out. The Bell and Prawn was a well-known and rowdy gathering point for performers like these. For that same reason, it was considered indecorous for nobles to attend. It would be the perfect spot to witness a bit of the late-night revelry. If she was being honest, she thought the odds of catching a second glimpse of the gold-painted Nua was strong. They hadn’t named the Prawn, but it was going to be one of the key centers of fun for the performers.

Sneaking over to the Prawn took time. As the night wore on, the Festival’s atmosphere was evolving. The performers were finishing their presentations, sending the families and their children off with smiles on their faces, and were congregating for the louder, more raucous sort of party that would last into the early hours of the morning. While there were still plenty of events to come and the true flood of artists toward the taverns hadn’t yet begun, Yokïmi was forced to exercise ever-more caution as she approached.

The Bell and Prawn was designed to cater to its favored clientele. There weren’t any other shops that opened onto its courtyard. The building that was technically the source of the tavern’s food and drinks spilled its custom out over the wide area beyond its doorstep. The tables, crowd, and joyful celebration ignored any technical boundary between the tavern’s interior and the outdoors. There were four different stages for artists to perform. They were spread wide enough that quieter acts like poets or contortionists might put on simultaneous shows. When louder acts began, there was always a chance they would drown out the others, but that was part of the chaotic turmoil that made the Prawn special.

As she took in the spectacle, Yokïmi was briefly stymied as to how she could insert herself deeply-enough into the churn to feel like a part of it. She nearly resolved to stay well clear and simply watch from one of the darker alleyways.

Then, she noticed a potential hideaway amidst the crowd. Along one wall, there were a small series of wooden partitions, creating a series of six alcoves where a small group could claim the table and chairs within. The alcove closest to her was smaller than the rest, and shaped as more of a wedge that wouldn’t be comfortable for a decent sized group. That probably explained why the crowd had begun using it as a dumping ground for random equipment that wasn’t valuable enough to guard but too heavy to be carried around the tavern all night. Everything from coats to guitar cases were strewn about the table, leaned against the walls, and stacked in the chairs.

Before she could regret her decision, Yokïmi ducked down and edged her way along the outer walls toward that alcove. Several times, she swore someone caught a hint of her movement, but unlike when Nua had seen her alone in the dark, there were a thousand other, far more interesting things to draw people attention. Almost everyone in the courtyard was a performer of some kind, with bright Auras and loud personalities that inevitably washed Yokïmi out of their collective awareness.

I could probably walk into the open and scream to be noticed and I’d be lucky to get a passing glance. And thus, a Curse in one moment becomes a Gift in another. With that blend of wry amusement and bitterness, she finished her crossing to the spot where she could conceal herself amidst the temporarily discarded gear.

Tucking into the back of the alcove, she took her time enjoying the dozens of interesting sights. She could see two of the stages and thirty different tables, as well as one cleared space serving as a dance floor. There weren’t any musicians playing, which meant the space was taken up instead by a throng of people chatting, flirting, and laughing with drinks in hand.

Yokïmi wasn’t consciously aware that she was looking for Nua until she realized she was disappointed not to see her amidst the crowd. That quickly reversed when she caught the woman’s voice over the crowd noise.

“… never would have suspected the Shizoku would appreciate a comedic play about an impoverished and incompetent farmer tricking a noblewoman into a tryst,” she was saying.

“Not tricking. Enticing,” said an unfamiliar male voice, who Yokïmi assumed to be the actor Saino.

“Have you forgotten that I saw you practicing the final version last week?” Nua quipped back. “He lies to her at least five times in the first act.”

“Back me up here, Hito,” the actor pleaded.

“Yeah… not sure I can. But maybe that’s why the lord’s scout thinks the noble court will find it amusing. Don’t all the great lords deceive each other as a normal pattern of life?” That voice matched Nua’s juggler friend.

“Why take it so personally?” asked another woman with a lilting contralto to her tone. “Wasn’t it written by some foreign playwright?”

“To whom I paid a full copper mark for the privilege of using to my own benefit, Akio!” Saino protested.

There was a smirk behind Nua’s reply. “Worry not. You’ll get your investment back. When has the idea of lying to get a woman into bed ever lost popularity? Especially among the rich and powerful!”

Yokïmi fought hard to restrain a snicker of her own, mildly shamed by her eavesdropping but unable to resist. She liked this woman’s sharp wit. It made her freshly regret having made the woman’s life harder by reducing the coins she might have earned by disrupting her act.

An idea to offer some small restitution occurred to her. It would require a bit of trust in a stranger and tiny bit of larceny, but she decided it a worthwhile endeavor.

Undoing the buckle of what looked like a poet’s valet, she found what she needed; a sheet of parchment, vial of ink, and a quill. She penned a quick note, thinking brevity was probably to her benefit.

One Bottle of Geichida Sake

For the Golden Lady

At the Next table

“From a kindred spirit”

She considered explicitly writing that the tavern servant who got this could keep any excess coin beyond the price of the bottle. It was a truly fine type, infused with subtle peach sweetness, but the silver mark she had was double the cost of it. But if anyone was willing to pull a trick like this, they had to be ready to overpay to prompt cooperation.

Seeing one of the servants headed her way through the crowd, Yokïmi slipped the note onto the table with the coin weighing it down. As the server drew close, Yokïmi rattled the table from the far side, keeping back in the shadows.

The strategy worked well enough. After coming to a stop, wondering at the noise, the server nearly wandered off without seeing the note. It took a second table nudge to have her see it.

A bit of shock showed on the woman’s face, but she took it in stride. Yokïmi assumed that sleight of hand, pranks, and games came with the territory of waiting on performers who counted street magicians and circus tricksters among them. The server took up the coin and the note, considered them both, then shrugged. “Well, that’s a new one.”

When she wandered off, Yokïmi had no guarantee she would be back. There hadn’t been any overt witnesses. She could claim the coin had been left apparently untended, and Yokïmi wouldn’t be able to challenge her on it.

Fortunately, the server turned out to be either honorable enough or at least predisposed to carrying the strange game to its conclusion. She returned with a bottle made of orange-clouded glass, bearing the impressive label of its maker. Interrupting the banter at the next alcove’s table, the sever delivered the line with admirable gravity. “I was told to give this to you, Miss.”

A small chorus of juvenile “ohhhs!”, whistles, and banging on the table were the response from Nua’s friends. She merely asked, “From who?”

“From a kindred spirit, young miss. S’all I know.” Giving a pleasant bow of her head and providing no other details, the servant retreated and got back to her work.

“Who do you think it was?” Akio demanded as soon as they were alone.

“Haven’t seen anyone so much as glance in our direction,” Hito added.

“Then you aren’t paying attention,” Saino snorted. “There isn’t a tavern you could go into where Nua wouldn’t draw eyes when she’s painted up like that.”

“Haven’t seen anyone watching who looks capable of a stunt like this,” Hito amended his earlier statement firmly.

“I’m sure it’s nothing but a passing fancy,” Nua said, attempting to minimize the gesture, sounding like she was too fatigued to deal with something like this.

“Nonsense. This calls for a scouting mission,” Hito decided. His chair rattled as he climbed from the alcove. “I’ll check with the barkeep first.”

“Where you can acquire another mug for yourself?” Akio guessed.

“Hah! I merely notice that this is a rather unique selection of sake, suggesting an admirer with good taste. Maybe the barkeep noticed someone like that scanning the sake bottles on the shelf.”

“Nice excuse,” Nua complimented him. “Try not to get lost in a keg.”

“Unless that’s where the answers can be found,” Hito laughed, then ventured off.

Saino sighed. “Come along, Akio. That leaves us to comb the courtyard. We’ll sniff out the likely candidates for romance.”

“Which leaves me to do what?” Nua asked.

“What else?” Akio eased out of her seat. “If we’re lucky, as soon as us unwanted folks remove ourselves from the scene, your shy benefactor will find their spine and make themselves known.”

“You’re using me as bait to see what happens?” Nua was clearly less than enthralled with the idea. “This could be an orc with a knife fetish.”

“Yet also with a fine taste in sake. So, he’s got that going for him.” Saino gave a final snicker as he pulled Akio away into the crowd.

Yokïmi hadn’t expected for so obvious a chance to engage with the gold-painted woman, and for a long moment, any clever way to begin evaded her. She heard Nua grumble under her breath, and the sound of the glass bottle being dragged across the wood of the table so she could inspect it more closely.

“I’m not.” The words escaped Yokïmi’s lips, the choice falling out of her turbulent thoughts in a rather inelegant tumble.

On the far side of the partition, Nua’s breathing caught on her surprise.

“Not at orc,” Yokïmi clarified, then immediately regretted how banal it sounded.

Nua’s silence lingered a few seconds longer, but when her reply came, there was an undercurrent of amused wonder. “Not hard to believe you. Orcs rarely sound like one of Fyrianmir’s angels.” A pause. “Kindred spirit. Are you the one I saw out there?”

“Yes.” Flattered at the comparison to the God of Music’s servants, Yokïmi shivered in both fear and delight as she made the admission. Until then, she was nothing more than a disembodied voice. Now, if Nua’s memory could remember her despite the effects of her diminished Aura, the woman would have a physical form to connect to the ‘spirit’.

“And are we? Of a kin?” Nua asked with light amusement.

“Too soon to know. I’d like it if we were. Though I barely know who I am anymore.”

Nua issued a sympathetic, “Oh? Well, you seem friendly enough as spirits go.”

“Have you met many?”

“Never myself. But my cousin was an adventurer of sorts. He claimed to have met a vengeful phantom in an ancient, Aldanoan king’s tomb.”

Yokïmi located the land which lay a fair distance to the southwest on her mental map, a gift of her childhood tutoring. “They are known for their elaborate death rituals.”

“And for the wealth buried with their highborn.”

“Which they protect rather jealously.”

Nua sighed. “Never said my cousin wasn’t rash.”

Taking a moment to smile at that, Yokïmi felt compelled to say, “I’m not that either.”

“Not a spirit? Or not vengeful?”

“Neither. Though I probably would be the latter if the one I’ve reason to hate was alive,” she confessed. She knew nothing of this woman, but that very quality of being strangers in some ways made it easier to be honest. She was nameless to Nua, so the other woman would be unable to carry any judgment forward.

“Better that you left it behind. Otherwise, I might have seen something entirely different in you,” Nua said.

“What did you see?”

“Someone I didn’t need to worry about.”

Yokïmi smirked. “I wouldn’t call myself harmless.”

“Do you want me to be afraid and flee?” Nua quipped back.

A swirl of apprehension passed through Yokïmi’s chest. “Oh, please, don’t!”

“Never fear. From the moment I saw your face, I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. It was a lovely sight to behold.” A warmth swelled in the artist’s words. “It was like seeing the dawn. The joy of the Festival was breaking through your melancholy. Beautiful.”

Swallowing past a lump, Yokïmi tried to understand how the woman could have read that in so brief a moment. Then, she remembered the Curse on her, laying her emotional state bare for anyone to see if they cared to look.

“I’m not myself, anymore,” was all she could think to say.

“That doesn’t mean what you’ve become can’t be lovely,” Nua replied. Her seat creaked as she shifted her weight. “Sleeping with all this paint on my skin is never wise. I’ve a friend with a bathhouse on Natita street. She could make a lot of coin by letting the revelers in there to have their fun, but says cleaning up the mess isn’t worth the profit. She leaves a key for me to find so I can wash off the gold before bed.” The glass sake bottle bumped the table one last time as she took hold of it. “Might have a sip of your thoughtful gift. Would be a shame to drink it alone…” From the way her words trailed off, it was clear she had begun to walk away.

The invitation was undeniable. And while it was Yokïmi’s emotions that were magically obvious to others, she found it very easy to read that Nua was equally tired of conversing with a barricade between them.

I need to hurry. A different sort of fear filled her; that Nua might forget her in the span of time between here and this refuge she had described. But she remembered seeing me out on the Festival grounds. The impression might already have been made in spite of my Aura levels.

It was still a chance she wasn’t willing to take. Unable to take so direct a path out of the courtyard tavern, Yokïmi once more crouched low and slipped along the edge. She stole away down the first open alleyway, dodged several groups of inbound socialites looking to join the Prawn’s fun, and angled toward Natita street and the promised location of the bathhouse.

Chapter 8

Yokïmi found it without much challenge. There was a small collection of hot springs in the district. The outflow came together to form a small stream, which the town had directed into a structured waterway that fed into the larger canal system. Enterprising business owners had taken advantage to build bathhouses around the springs. Only one of those businesses fronted on the correct street.

When she reached the door, she found it wedged ajar. Once through, she ensured that it settled fully into its frame. The key to lock it was in the hole, so she turned it until it clicked, then carried it with her down the inner corridor.

Already, wisps of steam were drifting along the air toward her. She used that as her guide. The building wasn’t large, and it wasn’t long before the corridor opened onto the bath area. Three low-burning torches shed enough light to see the details of the bathhouse while leaving thick shadows that made the chamber feel half its actual size.

It wasn’t a nobles’ retreat. The interior was all rustic wood construction overlaying the upshoot of bedrock stone where the hot spring had broken to the surface. The planks were treated to avoid rot and polished to stop from shedding splinters, but there were precious few luxuries to the utilitarian bathhouse.

That didn’t stop the steamy heat from being inviting. There were two separate emergences. One was a true fountain that finished its arc near the thick, exposed, interlocking timbers of the ceiling. The water spattered into a collecting funnel, then swept down a spillway into a cascading shower that a person could stand under. Once fouled by washing over dirty bodies, the water sluiced through metal grates and was carried out in sewer pipes under the ground.

The second upwelling wasn’t as strong. A large stone bowl collected the hot water in a bathing pool large enough for seven to eight people. The turbulent rush of the water made the surface bubble and churned the water in a never-ending spiral. The pool remained fresh by bleeding off its excess through a split in the stone, splashing down an aqueduct to join the waterways and canals beyond the wall.

Not seeing Nua anywhere in the chamber, Yokïmi drifted to the side of the pool and dipped a hand in to savor the heat. Her family’s castle hadn’t enjoyed a spring like this right inside the walls. The nearest one had been a long day’s walk. She had made the trip several times, and delighted in the experience on each occasion. She appreciated the baths arranged by her servants, and she would never have mocked their efforts, but a simple basin of fire-heated water could never hope to match the magic of a natural, steamy spring such as this.

“There you are.” Nua’s satisfied purr floated across the space. She stepped out from a dark corner, her golden skin and wrapped clothing exactly as they had been before. She was aware of the danger of the slick floorboards, and the cautious placement of each step accentuated the elegant grace in her legs. The hidden position was too effective not be a deliberate effort at concealment. “Not a spirit at all, as you said.” Her gaze was all wonderment this time, without any trace of surprise. She’d known Yokïmi would come.

And yet she’s not so foolish to not take precautions with an unknown following her into a dark bathhouse. Yokïmi drew her hand out of the water, then held it up so that Nua could see the droplets running down her crystal-clear flesh, dripping off the tip of her elbow to patter on the ground.

The statue-artist’s wide eyes seemed to glow as they picked up the torchlight, enraptured by the display. “What are you?”

“As human as you. At least, I was before this happened.”

“You were changed? Against your will?”

“Mm hm. Not so long ago. It’s why I’m not clear on everything that might be different about me.”

Nua took an unconscious step forward, still marvelling. “I’d consider myself the poorer for never having seen you. The effect is…”

“Bizarre?”

“Enchanting,” Nua let out in a heady whisper.

Not sure what to do with that, the pain of having this forced on her too recent for her to see it that way, Yokïmi asked, “How is it that you perceived me? I skim off the minds of even those close to me.”

That seemed to strike Nua as a compliment. A genuine smile warmed her lips and any lingering tension evaporated from her entire being. “Perhaps I care enough to see things that are worth noticing.”

“Is that a Talent of yours?”

“I like to think so.” Nua’s head tilted to one side, her smile growing a touch wry.

“It’s a nice thought.”

“To be thought worthy? Have you cause to doubt it?”

Yokïmi shook her head, resisting the urge to flow her arms up to cover her modesty as she delved into a personal fear. “Never in my past. If I’m being honest, I was too well cared-for. Too well loved. Too privileged.”

“Until this change,” Nua guessed.

“The one who did it was spiteful. He was forcing his pain onto me. To never have me valued again. I’ve had nightmares that the magic he used might have torn away some of that value to drive home his so-called lesson.”

Absorbing the tale with empathy, Nua replied, “If that was his intent, it evidently failed. I felt you worthy enough to find me here.” Her lips found a new smile, this one lighter, inviting Yokïmi to follow her out of those darker thoughts. “And I’m clearly worthy enough for you to have followed.”

A helpless laugh escaped Yokïmi. “I’m not sure why I came, to be honest.”

“Because that barrier back at the tavern wasn’t helping either of us.” Nua smirked, then glided over to the never-ending shower. She reached into the artificial waterfall, sampling the temperature and then gliding each hand up and down her forearms until the gold melted away up to both elbows.

The moisture began to form dewy drops all along the artist’s skin. Yokïmi found herself drawn to each, aching for any of them to begin a run down her skin so she could imagine it was her finger doing the same. Or my tongue.

Nua was watching her right back, and it was with rising embarrassment that Yokïmi realized every indecent thought she was having must be painted on her face as clearly as the artist’s gold tint emphasized her lovely cheeks. “Magical nights like this are made for honesty, my lovely spirit. What do you want? Do you dare tell me?”

“Nothing,” was Yokïmi first answer, then felt shame burn as she knew it was a blatant lie that this woman didn’t deserve.

“Try again,” Nua replied forgivingly. The corners of her mouth twitched with a trace of amused understanding.

“Nothing I could ever properly say.”

“Then we may have to be a tad improper.” Stepping more fully under the shower’s rain, the hot water splashed against Nua’s upper chest and neck. She gathered her arms up to form a scoop, then send a huge cascade of water over her face. Half of the paint was carried away. The drenched, golden wrapping clung to her figure so tightly that it might as well have not been there.

Yokïmi sank against the edge of the pool behind her, needing that contact to steady her knees. She reached for the shelters she had used all her life, not convinced any of them could save her right then. “There is so much I’ve not told you. I’m not free to do all I wish with my life. I’ve a title. A family. Expectations I… I can’t ignore…”

“Are you free to do what you wish tonight?” Nua asked.

“Yes.”

“And is there someone watching you even now to ensure you don’t misstep, Milady?” Nua tossed in the added inflection on her title, timed with a teasing smile. As the remnants of the paint continued to be washed away, she found the hidden hook that kept her banded clothing in place. Unfastening the end, the artist began to unravel the material with a deliberate lack of haste.

A part of Yokïmi was certain that she didn’t dare see what lay beneath if she wanted to keep her sanity.

No, the hidden side of her objected. It isn’t your sanity you are guarding. It’s the truth of yourself you’re still trying to avoid admitting.

In a final bid to silence that voice, Yokïmi reached for another branch. One that had never failed her when her duty to her family wasn’t clear. “I can’t want this. It’s what is written in the teachings of Narrum. Unions which cannot bear children are wrong.”

“So says the God who looks after the continuation of our people,” Nua said, and it wasn’t with any sort of blasphemous mockery. “What else would a Divine being like that say? It’s his responsibility to make sure humanoid lines prosper and never fail.” Her hands paused in their work, and her eyes met Yokïmi’s own with a soft challenge to think further. “But there are other gods. One of luck. She had us meet, didn’t she? One of love, and do you think she would care what sort of love is found?”

Nua tugged the last of the fabric covering her away and tossed it to the ground. She stepped out of the shower and came to a stop only a few paces away, equally naked with no evidence of shame.

If Yokïmi could have locked that moment away into her mind forever, she would. Infinite details called to her. What might be called minor, like the flawless way her jawline met with her neck and then rose to the lower bob of Nua’s ear, or the sway of her slickened-black hair brushing her back with water droplets… they both seemed as important to etch into her memory as the achingly perfect curves of her body.

The artist padded across the wood and found the carved stairs that led over the stone edge and into the pool. Even the wet stone wasn’t enough reason for her to make every step she took so overtly sensual. Knowing it was a deliberate tease helped nothing. Yokïmi couldn’t look away.

As she crested the top and descended into the water, Nua peered back over her shoulder. “But on a night like this, should we forget about Kyrrimaya? Does not the Goddess of Pleasure deserve a proper homage?” She spun in a slow circle, though she sank down so that when she faced Yokïmi, her breasts we below the level of the water.

After being gifted with the view of her, Yokïmi found it oddly compelling to now have them hidden. She swung her legs over the stone lip and dangled them into the hot water, though she didn’t push away from the steadying influence of the rocky edge.

“This isn’t Kyrrimaya’s night,” she whispered so low that it was almost lost amidst the bubbling churn of the water.

“True enough. But the harvest is a joyful time. A night for forgetting all the responsibility and weight we carry for the year. A night for dancing like we don’t have a care.” Nua crept closer, still remaining low in the water.

Yokïmi whimpered when she felt a touch beneath the water. Hands swept up her calves and onto her thighs as Nua inserted herself between her legs. The artist glided up Yokïmi’s body as she emerged from the pool, scattering warm droplets everywhere that ran in rivulets all over her glass-clear skin.

“I guess Oleura might smile if we reaped a little happiness along with the wheat in her honor,” Yokïmi managed with what little breath she could catch as Nua stood tall enough for their breasts to settle softly against each other.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Nua murmured, braced on the pool’s edge, leaning so that Yokïmi’s thighs were hugged to the swell of her hips.

The artist’s lips were tantalizingly close to Yokïmi’s own. What is it they call that lovely dip at the middle of the upper lip? Ah yes, Kyrrimaya’s bow. How appropriate. The whole moment had come upon her with what felt like dizzying speed. Suddenly, there was a naked woman nestled between her legs, and though she couldn’t quite track how it had come to be, she couldn’t imagine wishing for anything else.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Nua asked, still in that low, sensual murmur.

“You don’t even know my name.” The idea of giving it terrified her, sure it would break apart the moment. I don’t want to be the Lady Kikuchi right now.

“What would it tell me?” The artist reached up to caress one hand along Yokïmi’s right arm, from the shoulder down to her elbow as if testing to see if the crystal skin would remain whole under her touch. “Are you not willing to be my friendly spirit, sent to turn my Festival into pure magic?”

Never in her life would Yokïmi have ever considered doing anything so illicit. She also couldn’t remember wanting anything more.

“Kiss me,” Nua urged. The fingertip gliding over Yokïmi’s elbow drifted in to the side of her breast. Causing tingles there, the touch ventured to her side where it raised gooseflesh even in the steamy air, then settled gently on the top of her thigh.

Everything about the woman was inviting. Yokïmi forgot about what she didn’t know and what she had never experienced. Her own hands, which had been hanging numb and unsure by her sides, now unfurled to explore Nua in turn. One slid around her back to explore along her spine and the lean, toned muscles that framed it. Her other reached up to take hold of a thick lock of dark hair which had swung forward to hang down past the artist’s cheek. With tender care, she tucked it back behind the woman’s ear, then remained to stroke her fingers through the full wave of her glossy strands.

And all the while, those lips were there, seductively close.

“Will you kiss me?” There was no need for Nua to moisten them. The steam rising all around made everything about her slick and slippery. Her lips were dark-cherry red and held every promise of being sweet.

Irresistible.

Yokïmi could only call it satin on satin, all of it alive with shivering tingles that echoed back into every corner of her mind. Instinct guided her to draw Nua’s lower lip between her own and suckle on it gently, and the reaction told her it was worth repeating. The other woman issued a seductive moan, and answered by gliding her tongue over Yokïmi’s upper lip in a sort of summons. She extended her own, and was treated to a no-less marvellous sensation as Nua embraced it and taught her a whole new style of dance.

“Mmm,” the artist purred as the intense kiss reached an interlude. “Fine way to start. Hold that thought, my spirit.” Easing away, she swayed through the water and reached over the side, pulling the sake bottle from where she had cached it. As she allowed the water to slowly sweep her back to Yokïmi’s side, she worked the sealing cork loose and cast it away.

Taking a lengthy sip, Nua tilted her head back and savored the taste. “My, that’s good.” As she returned, she didn’t hesitate to slide back into Yokïmi’s arms, and gave a delighted smile when her arms and legs curled back around her in welcome. “Want to share?”

“It was meant for you,” Yokïmi insisted softly. “I cost you quite a few coins by distracting you.”

“That burden is on me,” Nua replied with surprising firmness. “It’s part of the craft. I once had a nasty duggin whip a pebble at me to snap me out of my pose. Didn’t let it faze me. I’m not looking to put my choices on your shoulders. We’ve all got to worry about our own in this world, yes?” Her smile returned. “But while I won’t take it as apology, I’ll gladly accept it as an admirer’s gift. And since it’s a gift, I’m free to do with it as I want.”

“Wouldn’t argue with that.”

“Then what I want is to share it with a lovely, naked woman in a bath.” Nua presented it to her again.

Yokïmi took up the bottle and brought the open ring to her mouth. She took a healthy swallow, not quite a gulp but enough to embrace the full flavor of it over her whole tongue and palate. The sweetness of the peaches behind the potent rich wine was a stunning mix. It streamed down her throat smoothly, and she knew it would be far too easy to drink well past one’s limits with this.

This time, Nua wasn’t about to wait. With the tingle of the alcohol still on both their lips, she leaned in to renew their kiss. Once more their naked forms pressed against each other, making the embrace an entanglement of both their whole bodies. Once more, as satin brushed against satin, their hands took sinful journeys to find new curves yet to be appreciated.

Soft laughter accompanied their explorations. Often, it was Yokïmi’s coming forth in delightful discovery while Nua’s took a more knowing but no less genuine enjoyment as she gave Yokïmi a chance for a new awakening.

Leaning back from her lover, the artist tipped the bottle into a slow pour, splashing a small wave of the sake over Yokïmi’s breasts. Before it could all flow away, she sank lower and ran a questing tongue over her clear skin. Chasing the alcohol droplets, she ignited every nerve-ending in Yokïmi’s whole being. When her tongue flashed over her nipples for the first time, rendering them firm and eager for another sample, Yokïmi swore she had found a vision of the heavens oft described to her when speaking of the gods in their homes.

With all her senses alive, her eyes widened as Nua then reversed the bottle and upended a second wave, but this time on her own mounds. Yokïmi didn’t need to be asked. Her lover arched her back in wanton invitation, and for the first time Yokïmi kissed a woman’s breasts with a need that was no longer surprising her. It was an element of her life that she’d denied, and that was over. She followed Nua’s example, hunting over every curve until finding her peaks with her tongue. The sake was long gone, yet her attention remained. She reinvented the age-old game of teasing the other woman’s areole until they became textured, then closing her lips to suck her nipples until they stood out firm. The moans this summoned from her lover were all the reward she needed.

Nua guided her up for another lasting kiss, breathing hard from the passion stirred up inside her. Groaning the words as much as speaking them, she spoke into Yokïmi’s ear. “I know this is your first. A wonderful night for first steps on a new road, hmm. Tell me if it’s too much.”

“Never,” was her instant response.

“You say that now.” Nua let out a throaty laugh, then curled her hands under her lover’s thighs to ease her up onto the rocky edge, putting her core free of the water. Then her mouth began its descent anew, but didn’t stop upon her breasts. Her fiery kisses went past the sensitive button of her abdomen, then wandered toward her parted thighs. Her fingernails scratched lightly along the back of Yokïmi’s thighs, sending a thrill of delight and anticipation through her core. The artist’s hands then curled fully around her new lover’s legs, lifting and spreading them to allow her to settle fully between them. Yokïmi knew what was coming, and thought herself ready.

She wasn’t. The first stroke of Nua’s tongue was world-shattering. She had never experienced such a concentrated sizzle of pleasure in her entire life. Beyond the mere physical glory of that contact was the wickedly alluring idea that this was happening to her. That a lover was willingly licking electric lines through her most intimate flesh.

Nua’s tongue delved deeper, building the aching need inside her. Yokïmi’s excitement flowed onto the artist’s lips, which she pressed in with lush kisses that ended in suckling pressure on her clit, making that sensitive pearl the current center of Yokïmi’s whole world.

“What magic of Kyrrimaya are you conjuring,” she breathed out into the steamy air, allowing her head to loll back as she groaned. Every pass of Nua’s tongue and mouth nudged the pleasure higher, and each time Yokïmi felt certain that nothing could make it better… only to be proven wrong with her next touch.

Issuing a muffled, sultry laugh in response, Nua paused long enough to tease, “Shall we try something else?”

“What else – oh merciful Goddess.” Her question was erased from her mind as her lover speared two fingers slickened with her own arousal into Yokïmi’s warm slit. At first, Nua stretched them in as deeply as she could manage, then curled them back in a sort of come-hither motion that was hunting for a very special spot. Once she found it, she ignited a pleasure Yokïmi had been aching to experience. She hadn’t known she wanted it until that moment, but now could imagine nothing better. Blended with the tongue bathing her clit with exquisite fire, and Yokïmi lost herself to orgasmic oblivion.

Clutching to Nua’s head and back to stop from falling back off the side of the bath, Yokïmi dwelled in that bliss for what might have been an eternity. Yet when the bathhouse resolved around her again, it also wasn’t long enough. She would have done anything to sample that heaven again.

What allowed her to survive the return to the mundane world was Nua herself. Being melded skin to skin with the lovely woman kept her floating in a dreamy fuzz. “I want to feel more of you. I want to do that to you.”

The artist’s final lick was softer, intended to be soothing as she crawled a little higher up her lover’s body. Lingering with her cheeks hugged by the inner swell of Yokïmi’s breasts, she placed a sweet kiss in the valley between them, obviously fascinated with touching her glass-clear skin. “Are you sure?”

Yokïmi understood the generosity in her. Nua wanted the same thing, but despite their invented game about being her elusive yet willing spirit for the Festival, she also knew it was Yokïmi’s first time.

“I promised to tell you if it was too much,” she replied, evoking her best version of a seductive smile. “I’m a woman of my word.”

“Do you know how would you like me for it?”

It was a question meant to draw out Yokïmi’s every fantasy, yet her inexperience fought against her. She loved the magic of innovation and improvisation, and used it often in her music. But this was a sort of dance that was utterly new to her, and she feared a misstep that would fracture the dream.

Nua drew her hands up both of Yokïmi’s sides, and she felt every inch as all ten fingers traveled along her skin, then glided under her arms to hold her in a tight, reassuring embrace. “You know there are no wrong answers, right?”

“Are you sure?” she had to laugh, touched by the kind patience.

“Well, maybe a few. But I’m willing to guess you won’t ask for anything more risqué than I’d be willing to do.”

“Would the lovely lady care to make a suggestion?”

“I’m not the lady of this particular pool.” Nua grinned. “But I might be convinced to toss out a few ideas.”

“What would coax them out of you?”

“O-sake,” she said with fierce emphasis, a mischievous gleam in her eye.

The added honorific and emphasis emphasized her cuteness in a way she hadn’t revealed before then. A bubbling laugh escaped Yokïmi as she reached for the bottle. She tilted it so a splash of the peach rich wine wet her lips and dripped into her mouth. Nua made a show of sweeping her tongue out to capture more of the droplets. To that, Yokïmi was compelled to dive down on her mouth and pull her into a lingering kiss with their naked bodies once more crushed against each other.

Letting out a throaty, lustful laugh, Nua drew away and strolled across the pool. “Come with me.” She held on to Yokïmi’s hand, pulling her along in her wake.

Yokïmi didn’t resist, enchanted by the way Nua’s hips swayed in the water, the top swells of her behind bobbing just above the surface, hinting at what else she might discover if only she would step out of the pool to show off the rest of her curves.

Nua reached a spot of the pool where the stone edge widened out into a shelf large enough for a person to lay out in the steam. She turned in place and all but floated up onto the edge. She folded her legs one over the other and beckoned her lover to come closer.

Unsure if she could trust herself to finish closing the distance, even with the water around her, Yokïmi took in the image of the statue-artist perched so gracefully there. “I’ve never seen such a vision as you.”

That drew a smile. “My Festival spirit has pretty words as well. Lady Fortune is smiling on me, it would seem.” She held out her hand again. When Yokïmi took it, she guided it down to rest on her knee. “Touch me however you like.”

A shudder of need rippled through her. She ran her hand a bit farther, caressing along the other woman’s upper thigh.

Nua purred at the contact. “Nice way to start. Shall I encourage you?” She sank back, laying her back against the slick stone behind her. Her legs slowly unfurled from their crossed position. The artist had sculpted her limbs with flexible power, meant to bend into awkward shapes and then hold them for minutes at a time. It was no effort for her to curl her legs around Yokïmi, pulling her in to stand between them at the edge of the pool. She then spread her legs wider, stretching them with languid sensuality to each side while tightening her abs and curling her back. The combined effect presented the backs of her thighs and her bare slit up toward her lover.

If asked what she would do in such a moment, Yokïmi would have been lost for words. But in the moment, she knew what she wanted. Her hands slid to either side of Nua’s hips and dragged her back to the very edge. She tucked herself in close, her breasts snuggled in against the underswell of the artist’s firm behind and placed a warm kiss right where her right thigh merged into the sensitive flesh of her sex.

When that provoked a sultry “Mmm” from her lover, she mirrored it on the left side, then crept her mouth in over Nua’s tender folds. The creamy taste on her lips compelled her to seek more, and so her tongue went out to explore.

“There you are,” Nua crooned along with a lovely giggle. She reached down and located Yokïmi’s hands to draw them up around her legs and settled them on her pert breasts. “Here, too. Touch me everywhere.” Biting her lip, she let out another moan of lustful encouragement.

Yokïmi took it. Her palms massaged into the other woman’s soft-yet-firm flesh, sensing the nipples hardening in the depths of her grip. Her own breathing was coming faster as she wandered over her lover. She alternated between kissing and strokes of her tongue, hunting for the right combination to make Nua respond in the same way she had. To stoke the fire inside her until she found that same, explosive release.

“So eager,” Nua whispered along with a sultrier laugh, now rich with the lust building inside. “Keep going. Feels… so good…” Her lower lip slipped back between her teeth, biting down as she strained to push her body more fully into Yokïmi.

The urging cracked through some barrier she hadn’t known existed. It crumbled, and she sank into the other woman with a freedom that even her own orgasm hadn’t given her. Nua’s responses, her instinct and knowledge of her own body joined together to guide her. Her tongue continued its path of discovery, drawing patterns in flesh until she found the sweetest spot. Her lover sucked in a sharp gasp as Yokïmi fluttered the tip over her clit, then warmed it with a lingering kiss.

Lips and tongue. Lips and tongue. In an ever-ascending swirl of fixated attention, interspaced with an occasional, delicious few seconds of licking along Nua’s slit before returning for more. The artist scrambled her fingernails across the rocks and squirmed in the trapped position she had brought upon herself. Her lithe legs curled and uncurled, making her lean muscles ripple and flex in Yokïmi’s grasp.

And then Nua was screaming in the rapturous joy she’d been reaching for. Yokïmi couldn’t imagine a purer note. Nothing her musical experience had given her was on par with the heavenly sound, and knowing she’d caused that to resonate through another person thrilled her like nothing else. She carried on the naughty kiss, rolling with Nua down the slope of one orgasm and into another. The artist was feeding on the novel energy in Yokïmi as she found her way through this new experience, surrendering to its power to enhance her own pleasure.

When at last it was over and Yokïmi had spent all her inspiration, she crawled forward and lay atop the other woman. It hardly seemed real, but she moved with deliberate care, not wanting to shatter the dreamlike peace she felt.

Nua opened her arms and welcomed her in. Guiding Yokïmi down to lay on her side, the artist spooned up against the back of her glass-skinned lover, raining gentle kisses along her shoulder and spine. “It’s alright my gentle spirit. Sleep with me here. We won’t be bothered until morning.”

Yokïmi had little enough reason to trust anyone, but only calm filled her as she settled into Nua’s arms. As staggering as their coupling had been, shaking her whole world, it was a whole new magic to feel the artist’s breath on her neck. Her breasts crushing softly against her upper back. Her stomach melded to her lower back while her pelvis cupped around Yokïmi’s behind. Their legs intermingled, rubbing with languid intensity as they burned off the last of their erotic energy.

Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. She fought against the sweet call of sleep. She was so relaxed. How long since I’ve been this relaxed. Letting out a soft groaned, she murmured, “I don’t want this to end.”

“Everything ends,” Nua whispered back, placing a soft kiss on her ear. “All we can do is make the best of the time we have. Thank you for making my Harvest Equinox a memorable one.”

“You will? Remember it, I mean?”

“For the rest of my life.” Nua nuzzled her nose to the back of Yokïmi’s neck, settling in place as she drew nearer to sleep herself.

“Mm. So will I.” Yokïmi realized it was that simple, and there was nothing left to say. Nothing left to be gained by fighting against a taste of oblivion. She’d heard both sleep and sexual release described in poems as Little Deaths, and she now understood the connection between them as she succumbed to the peace of lying folded in her lover’s embrace.

*          *          *

Not much had changed when she awoke. There was a small pattern of high windows Yokïmi hadn’t noticed in the darkness. The glass was thick, crude, and steamed over, but she could now see daylight streaming in from outside. Otherwise, the hot springs were still pouring forth their warmth, flooding the shower device and churning up the pool.

The largest change was Nua’s absence. Even the bathhouse’s steamy air couldn’t begin to compare to the heat felt from her lover’s body. A pang of loss resonated through all four aspects of her: body, mind, emotions, and soul. A part of her had known this was coming from what Nua had said. Their union had been for the Festival. The night of celebration was over, and so the dream had ended.

Rolling to one side, Yokïmi saw a piece of thick parchment placed carefully on a patch of stone as dry as could be found in the damp room. It wasn’t enough to keep the fragile paper whole for long. Already, it was soggy and heading for disintegration. She plucked it from its resting spot and considered the words. As lovely as Nua had been, Yokïmi was reminded that she was a commoner, for the calligraphy lacked the flow of a robust, noble-level education. But the characters were shaped well enough to be clear.

My Lovely Spirit;

You made the night special.

I’ll remember every moment.

I hope you will, too.

Your First

Fresh anger blossomed inside her. Not directed at Nua, but to… everything else. Her brother. Fate. The world. The gods. All the different powers that had a hand in her current condition. She couldn’t protect the note. She had no magic. No pouch to guard it from being crumpled. She wanted to fold it away and possess it as a treasure forever, available to warm her heart whenever she wished or needed it.

Instead, she held it in front of her eyes, trying to memorize it. To burn it into her brain. Not just the words. Every stroke of the brush. Every idiosyncrasy in how Nua had formed the characters, which Yokïmi’s calligraphy tutor had once told her could reveal the entirety of one’s personality. She had never quite believed that, but she wanted those Skills now. Remembering these brush strokes would be one more way of knowing the other woman.

With reluctance as the paper lost more of its coherence in her wet fingers, Yokïmi allowed the parchment to fall into the pool. If she couldn’t keep it pristine, then she knew she had to ensure it vanished completely so that no-one else could find it. She watched as it was reduced to soaked fibers and was eventually undone in the hot, swirling water. The ink was soaked away, and so the final evidence of her tryst with the statue-artist was gone.

An impulse to go looking for Nua rose in her heart, then waned nearly as a quickly. She’d made her wishes known. And Yokïmi knew nothing about the other woman’s life. Maybe she was already on the road again to another town to show off her talents. Or she had returned to some family who didn’t know about her other life as a performer. It would be my luck to stumble upon her and the disapproving eyes of her parents wondering why a strange spirit-woman had come seeking their daughter.

If she was being honest with herself, Yokïmi had to admit to a fear that she wouldn’t see recognition in the woman’s eyes. The incredible night went beyond memorable for her, but her Aura scores hadn’t risen. Despite the other woman’s best intentions, Nua’s memory might have slowly dulled after she walked out the door, and it could be washed clean within hours. Yokïmi didn’t want to think about the pain it would cause if she looked into the statue-artist’s eyes again and failed to see any glimmer of recognition or awareness of what they had shared.

It’s over. Accept it. Then you never have to find out. You can live the rest of your life believing that she does remember. That last night was so powerful and glowed so bright that even my damned Aura scores couldn’t diminish it.

She swallowed hard, and tried not to think of the lesson one tutor had showed her about staring at the suns. If you put enough tinted glass in the way, even the great heavenly balls of fire could be seen and watched and measured. Their power could be dulled with enough shadowing…

“But I remember what I saw, don’t I?” she said aloud and to no one, wanting to hear it spoken. To make it real. She recalled all the details about the suns, and how interesting they actually were when you stripped away the full glory of their light and could see the fiery spheres they appeared to be. “That’s… that’s like this. She’ll remember.”

Perhaps not totally confident, Yokïmi felt marginally better. At least enough that she could decide what to do next and leave this strange, evocative night behind her. So much had happened. Enough that it felt like her entire past was one part of her life, and what lay ahead was another. She was certain that she would see the world completely differently after embracing emotions she had always crammed into the hidden depths of her heart.

Yet also the same. My Curses haven’t changed, nor the need for Quests to undo them. At least I’ll be more at peace with myself when I go out to meet them.

Not that her days of secrecy were over. In some ways, she knew they were just beginning. She had no idea how she could ever admit any of this to her Farrum. She was never going to be a happy scion of Narrum. She’d known that all her life, paying little more than lip service to the God of the Humanoid Triad. After all Katashi had done for her, could she dare to tell him something that would cause the traditional Sage such confusion and perhaps even heartache? If he loved her, he might accept it, but… could he? Was he ready for such a thing?

There was also the question of her place in the Kikuchi line. Yokïmi had not expected to inherit, for her father was certain to pass on his legacy to one of his male children before her. But now, she was technically the Shishaku Kikuchi, even if no one realized the full extent of the tragedy at their castle. If she embraced those responsibilities, it would be upon her to produce her own heir.

I never wanted that burden. I don’t want it now. It’s only a matter of time before those who always hungered after my family’s lands start to carve them apart. Do I even want to stop them? To make myself a public figure despite the changes I’ve suffered? A Lady cannot rule over a land while tromping across the world on her own personal Quests… can she?

That wasn’t the real question, and she knew it. Do I even want to? That was the real question, and wasn’t sure if it was in shame or relief that she admitted that she didn’t. Am I too afraid to pick up the burden? Or is it really not in my nature to want that sort of rulership?

The weight of all those uncertainties pressed down on her shoulders. She yearned for a few more hours or maybe even just a couple minutes more of that peace and self-assurance she had felt in Nua’s arms.

Chasing that memory, Yokïmi called down her status orb, wondering if it had caught some sort of record of her time with the other woman. Once again, she studiously ignored the darker Impactful Moments in her history and focused on the entry which brought her joy. I don’t have the letter, but I have this.

Impactful Moment: Night with the Golden Statue-Artist:

-  This Moment encompassed your first true sexual experience, erotic experience, and awakening of true sexuality.

-  +1 Aura (Power/Precision/Persistence)

-  +2 Resilience (Stability)

-  +5 Resilience (Ego)

-  +5 Emotional and Soul Damage Points

She felt a small shiver of what she could only call horror at what the first line implied, and to realize how incredibly lucky she had been. It drove home the point that a sexual experience might not have been a pleasant one, nor have been in line with who she was as a person. How many badly arranged marriages might have resulted in an Impactful Moment that only encompassed the first of those details? And what damaging impact would that have had on the person? Instead, she saw only gifts, even with the lingering regret that she wouldn’t likely see Nua again.

But she will be part of my life in a way. She’s my first step back. The first raise in my Aura scores. I’m a little closer to being me again, because of her.

Yokïmi relaxed her hold on the orb, allowing it to drift away to wherever it lingered when not under her direct control, never floating more than a dozen paces away. It was enough. She was going to walk away from this place with not only a memory, but with assurance that the night had changed her as much as she thought it had. Maybe she has her own Impactful Moment. Maybe Nua opened her own orb to find ‘Night with the Crystal Lady’ or some such thing in her list. That could keep her memories alive even if my Aura couldn’t.

Buoyed by that happy thought, she slipped off the rocky shelf and headed for the door. Her gifted sake bottle was gone, as were all of Nua’s belongings. There was nothing for her to worry about.

Leaving no trace at all, she ventured out into whatever shadows she could find, picking her way back to Katashi’s manse to take the next step on her path.

Chapter 9

Breathe. Steady. Eye on the target. Don’t let the wavering of your arm draw you away. Breathe… and…

“Incroi zi akaivir!” The power words snapped out, each specific phoneme crisply delivered as the spell’s description demanded. Yokïmi timed the completion of the pattern of runes she was shaping to coincide with the final utterance. In the final flourish, she flicked the steel filings into the air.

The shavings sizzled into nothingness, and a harsh hiss accompanied the vibrant pink ray of energy that stabbed across the casting chamber. It first cut through a small block of wood, then carried on to rake a black mark across a large stone she’d placed on a target table.

The beam soon vanished, leaving nothing but the after-image in her eyes and the sliced wood as proof it had ever been there. She ran over to the target. The wood wasn’t burnt. She’d learned through trial and error that this wasn’t fire magic. It simply cut. It was the same with the rock. The marks on it weren’t scorch marks. They had more in common with someone taking a pick-axe to it several times. The Low-Level spell hadn’t been able to penetrate the entire rock after dealing with the wood, but she was sure it would have done significant harm to anything in its path.

A distinct chime sounded above her, and Yokïmi nearly let out a cry of joy. She hurried summoned her orb down from the corner of the chamber, leaping right to the status update line.

* Channel Energy from Components – Talent now level 2 *

She hurried opened the full listing for the Talent details.

Talent: Channel Energy from Components: Level 2

-  This is the fundamental process that enables magic to work without harming a practitioner. The energy for supernatural effects must come from some source. If material components are not linked to the spell, the spell will fail and could do damage to the practitioner as it does.

-  Channeling limits are linked to individual Resilience scores: Physical Spells to Tolerance, Emotive Spells to Stability, Mental Spells to Willpower, Soul Spells to Ego.

-  Current channeling limits:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap Resilience 4 points.

• Low difficulty spells sap Resilience 15 points.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap Resilience 35 points.

• High difficulty spells sap Resilience 70 points.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap Resilience 175 points.

• Superior difficulty spells sap Resilience 425 points.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap Resilience 950 points.

• Epic difficulty spells sap Resilience 4500 points.

• Divine difficulty spells sap Resilience 9500 points.

-  Current Resilience refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 9 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 18 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 25 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 55 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 80 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 110 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Talent reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

Yokïmi clenched a fist, though it was with a mesh of victory and frustration. The limitations on her power had clearly dropped, and that was cause for celebration. But with her current Resilience scores, only her Ego score was high enough to activate a Moderate-Level spell. The Physical-based Invisibility spell was still beyond her.

She wondered if that should change her intentions. This was going to be the day she told Katashi. The day she took the next step. The one she needed if she was going to forge her own path.

Pushing aside the decision for just a little longer, she searched down her status and found that the rise in her Talent wasn’t the only change. A green [+] icon was next to her Sorcerer entry. With satisfaction, she tapped it to accept the XP dump into the path.

Instantly, her status line updated in a scrolling rush.

* Sorcerer level up! *

* Resilience (Willpower) +1 *

* Physical Damage Points +4 *

* Mental Damage Points +2*

* Emotional Damage Points +1 *

* Soul Damage Points +1 *

* New Talent Unlocked – Eidetic Memory now Level 1 *

She was pleased to see there was a new ability attached to the Level increase. Sorcerer was a Basic path. Unlike Advanced and Mentor paths, Basic ones did not always grant exceptional new abilities at each increase. The gods had rolled the dice and apparently, she had come up lucky on this one. She checked the entry, though the title was fairly self explanatory.

Talent: Eidetic Memory: Level 1

-  The ability to recall details of spells even during moments of stress is critical to a magic user. The Talent is also useful when exposure to new knowledge is permitted only for brief periods of time. The Mental (Persistence) Ability score normally governs normal memory recall, including both acuity and time in the past, in addition to other aspects of a person’s mental endurance. The Eidetic Memory Talent enhances the Memory Recall aspect of that Ability.

-  Each Level in this Talent renders recalled information more complete, and able to be retrieved from further in the past. At Level 5, recall of any detail up to and including the point of gaining this Talent will be flawless. At Level 10, recalling details will be perfect over the full span of a person’s life even prior to Talent acquisition.

Yokïmi’s Mental Abilities were already fairly strong. Her Mental (Precision) being at 25 meant her reasoning abilities were sharp, able to delve into problems without fearing that she’d be easily stumped. Her 22 in Mental (Power) represented her ability to think clearly under stress and distraction. And while her Mental (Persistence) was lowest at 19, it was still a very healthy score that represented a good memory and the ability to recall details. They all fueled her Willpower score, and explained why it was one of her highest Resiliencies.

Despite her strength in any of them, she wasn’t going to object to having a new Talent sharpen portions of her Mental attributes. She was going to live and die by them, so they might as well be as strong as possible.

Her Willpower score had also been bumped, and she looked at her Resiliencies again.

Resilience:

Tolerance:  33

Willpower:   35

Stability:   23

Ego:  36

She sucked in a sharp hiss. So close. Willpower had climbed to where she could cast a Moderate-Level spell in the Mental discipline, but it would drain her to 0. From what Katashi had taught her, that wouldn’t kill her, but it would incapacitate her. Even if she could learn such a spell, she’d need to reserve it for desperate moments indeed. At 0 Willpower, she’d be reduced to a feeble shell until she recovered, unable to summon the mental discipline to act in any fashion. If it fell any lower, she wouldn’t have the inner strength to keep breathing or for her heart to be commanded to keep beating. She’d suffocate on her own weakness. Only for desperate times, indeed.

A rustle of the fabric on robes woke her from her reverie, making her banish the orb in a small fit of nervous energy, lightly embarrassed that she’d let herself get so deeply engrossed with introspection.

Katashi marched purposefully into the casting chamber, a light frown of concentration on his face and a book cradled in one hand. His own gaze seemed like it had been turned inward, and he wasn’t really watching where he was going.

The sight of her made him stagger to a stop and let out a small huff of mild surprise. “Goodness, child! Where di…” He faded off, regaining himself.

Yokïmi’s face fell slightly. “Still? Even after six months?”

Her Farrum sighed, then gave a shrug. “I haven’t laid eyes on you in over a week.”

“Practice,” she said simply, waving at the chamber. “That and sleep.”

“Your diligence is commendable, though I know it hasn’t only been that. I believe you have been avoiding me.” He tilted his head to one side. “Are you embarrassed at all the bad habits Parrun has been teaching you?”

“Or good ones,” she jotted back, perhaps a bit too sharply. She had no doubt her Farrum cared about her, but he was more than happy to let his obsession with knowledge and magic become hers. Hanzo was following in his footsteps. Lahni was not quite so diligent, but she’d made it increasingly clear that she wouldn’t tolerate his leering presence. It had fallen to Parrun to keep her sane, dragging her out of the casting chamber and the library as often as he could convince her.

None of their side-trips out into the city and the wilderness beyond had proved as invigorating as the Equinox Festival. But they had been confirmed that the wider world existed for her and stopped her from becoming totally cloistered. She’d also maximized her Stealth Skill. It fortunately attached to her Bellatir path. Skills could be improved to 3 times the highest-ranked Level path to which any one Skill was connected. With Bellatir at 2, that meant she could bring her Stealth to 6 before she began to stagnate.

It frustrated her that her Bellatir path had also stagnated. Her love for the martial art was too recent an acquisition. To have her cursed brother destroy her mentors along with the rest of her life was a horrid blow. Her desire to take new steps on that path was one more reason why she had decided to leave.

Which brings me back to telling my Farrum about it.

Before he could object to her defending Parrun, she said, “So it took a week for you to begin forgetting I was here. What’s going to happen if I leave, Farrum? I know I sound incredibly selfish, but I admit it. I’m depending on you to find where I can go to eliminate these Curses.”

Letting out a long sigh, Katashi said, “I’ve yet to set those tasks to paper. If you are no longer here to remind me, then that is what I shall do. I shan’t forget.”

“Then it’s time to put quill to parchment, Farrum.” She tried to take as much sting out of the declaration as she could, but there was no easy way to say it. Might as well do it fast.

His eyebrows rose. “So soon?” His attention traveled to the rock and wood she had cut. “You’ve honed the Razor Beam well enough to count on it?”

“Well enough. I’ve decided what I need to do, and waiting isn’t going to make it any easier.”

“You have? I haven’t given you any reasonable places to search for removing your Curses.”

“I’ve another destination in mind.”

He pressed his lips into a tight line. “Oh?”

“The Lost Monolith Sanctuary.”

His astonishment was renewed. “That’s a zaskran retreat. None of the serpentian triad races are eager to relate with outsiders, and they are no exception. They won’t be welcoming.”

“They will for me once I’ve convinced them of my connection to Haruto.”

“Your Bellatir instructor?”

“It’s where she acquired her mastery in the Ekanshin style. If I can prove to them I am her pupil, they might allow me into their midst. Especially if they believe her wishes were for me to attain the same mastery. They would honor her intent.”

“They would expect commitment,” he cautioned.

“I would expect it from myself,” she declared, expecting him to argue that she should remain focused on her magical discipline. “Not only for the benefit these arts would be on my Quests. The zaskran are not the only ones who want to honor my Sensei.”

He pursed his lips even more tightly, attempting to hold back his arguments from becoming too vigorous. “If you give yourself to their teachings and these Quests, what time will be left for becoming the Lady of Kikuchi?”

It was her turn to sigh as he delved into the topic she had feared. A small mercy that I am not refusing it because of who I can and wish to love. She said, “I’m sorry, Farrum. I know it would disappoint my father greatly. But you know the truth as well as I. The Kikuchi clan has lost its hold on its lands. The castle is broken. I’m still Cursed. Taking my place among the Kazoku –”

“– would be a challenge,” he was quick to say. “Not impossible. There have been noble families who have dealt with Curses before!”

“But I don’t want it, Farrum.” She let out a soft growl as he forced her to admit it, hating to tell him what he didn’t want to hear. “The people on those lands need a lord or lady who wants the responsibility for speaking on their behalf. And once established, it would be cruel of me to return and try to supplant them.”

“Caretakers have been arranged. Stewards and regents are common for holding a noble seat until the heir comes of age. This can be done.”

“I can’t undo what’s been done,” Yokïmi argued, but as lightly as she could. She knew how this was tormenting the man. “Akuje broke us. Forgive me, Farrum, but I am not the one to remake the family line.”

“That’s a choice you may come to regret once you come to understand all the privilege you are casting away.” He pushed hard to invest as much dire weight as he could in the warning. “Once other lords claim pieces of your land, they will never surrender them. Not shy of war.”

“They are welcome to it. These Quests might take the balance of my whole life. And even if they don’t, that isn’t the sort of power I want. The people on our lands deserve better than a lackluster wanderer.” Thinking that bringing their discussion back to Katashi’s field of expertise might help him accept her choice, she said, “There’s another reason to learn at the Sanctuary. One connected to my magic.”

Predictably, that banished some of his immediate frustration. “Oh?”

“There are precious few mentions of the Lost Monolith in your books, Farrum. Not so shocking considering their isolation. But among the scattered threads of information, there is mention of a zaskran master who has command of a specific type of magic. One interconnected with the powers I could obtain as a Bellatir. It says he crafted himself into a ChiKiln.”

In spite of his other arguments, her ploy worked and the Sage inside Katashi engaged with building excitement. “I’ve heard of this path. A difficult one, to be sure. You realize the Kiln it references is your own body?”

She nodded. “It teaches you to burn Physical Damage Points to power spells in the physical domain, which I might add are the majority of the ones you have taught me.”

“Why make this effort when material components can provide the necessary energy?” he asked. “While there are spells out there with expensive demands, there is so much you can do with blades of grass and plucked bird feathers. Why put yourself through such torment?”

“How do Wizards bring their power with them on the road?” Yokïmi demanded of him. “Once they have mastered scores of spells which use multiple components that they might cast dozens of times over a voyage? Each spell only takes a pinch of each, and yet taken as a whole, it is quite a bit to carry, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” Katashi admitted, understanding now where she was going.

She spelled it out for him. “I cannot even put on a backpack to carry belongings. No sash to conceal components in easy-to-reach pouches as I’ve heard you describe taking on your own travels. In this casting chamber, everything is on these tables in easy reach. Out there? I’ve nothing but what’s near enough to reach. What happens where there is nothing but dirt and blades of grass, and none of that will power the spell I truly need?”

“Magic hurts us when we fail to channel component energy. What you’re talking about is inviting that storm to rip you apart from the inside.”

“If others have created this path, with or without the help of the gods, then it must be an option worthy of the cost in pain!”

“Do you know there is a Level path named CourtJester? And another for TownFool? Some people thought those paths were good ideas as well.”

Yokïmi didn’t know if he was joking, but she didn’t let his mockery deflect her. He’s a champion of the Wizarding path. It’s what he knows. He honestly believes it to be the prime, ultimate way to personal power. She didn’t doubt he wanted the best for her, but she wasn’t sure he would be able to look past his bias.

“The option to use materials will never vanish, Farrum. You’ve opened that way for me, and I bless you for it. But this direct energy path can give me freedom. And I’m already going to the Sanctuary to advance my Bellatir path. Perhaps I can blend the ChiKiln abilities into that style of fighting. Imagine it. Magic working hand in hand with martial prowess.”

Light scorn laced its way through the Sage’s expression. “There is such a thing as reaching too far and combining things that were never meant to be mingled.”

“Perhaps so,” she admitted, and not merely to pacify him. She was being presumptuous, maybe even arrogant. Others might have trialed the same thing over the centuries, only to fail. Or they didn’t, and are merely guarding their secrets. That might be the real test I’ll face. To convince the zaskran masters to bestow that secret on me.

She shook her head, clearing away the spiderweb of thoughts. “What option have I but to try?”

“Hmm,” was Katashi’s answer, obviously not happy. “Do you know where the Sanctuary is concealed?”

“I’ve a general idea. Building it around an artifact named the Lost Monolith suggests they wouldn’t be eager to have it inscribed on a great many maps. From what Haruto told me, it’s deep in the foothills below the fire mountains. Far enough in the wilderness and so far from any road that no one would approach it by happenstance.”

“Zaskrans are not like us. You’ll find their mannerisms alien.”

“Which might also be a relief,” Yokïmi couldn’t help but point out. While the serpentian racial triad was as warm-blooded as any other, possessing of souls like all the gods-protected peoples inhabiting the world, they were among those who best resisted the mystical allure that the humanoid racial triad exuded. Combined with her low Aura, she might almost be able to exist among them without constant, ardent attention.

He raised one hand and tapped it against his chin. “I see it as my place to honor your father’s wishes and see you safe.”

“Yes, Farrum. I do not mean to seem impertinent or unappreciative.”

“Merely intransigent?” Katashi huffed in resigned humor. “I still believe you do not understand what you are giving up. But if this is the path you must follow, permit me one small addition. You can call it a favor as you keep insisting you owe me.”

“Name it.” She didn’t hesitate, glad there was a way to balance the scales between them to some measure.

“Take Parrun with you.”

She blinked in surprise. “You’d send one of your apprentices away with me? I don’t understand.”

“I rather suspect you do,” he said with a sad chuckle. “Or at least you would if you bent your mind toward figuring it out. The two of you have spent enough time together. You know that rascal’s mind.”

A wry smile graced her lips. “And so do you?”

“Indeed. He has talent, but it isn’t backed up by discipline. Neither for magic nor for the gathering of knowledge. I don’t demand my apprentices to follow in the Sage path, but I’m still seeking my true successor. He’s reached the limits of my patience. I’d rather he left while he still has my good will, and not when it turns to annoyance.”

“Why send him with me?”

“Far better than an outright dismissal, don’t you think? I won’t tell him not to return, but with his temperament? He won’t. Something else will distract him and lead him off into the world.”

“I suppose you want me to encourage him to chase whatever dreams occur to him?”

“Don’t discourage him,” Katashi chuckled. “You are going to hunt for a hidden Sanctuary. It won’t be a bad thing to have a companion who can carry things, ask questions in villages where you cannot show your face, and so on.”

“I don’t want to use him like a pack mule.”

“So, don’t. In fact, take one of my own. There are three in stables, and I can part with one. You’ve become his friend. Act like that. Help him find where he’s meant to be in the world. That’s the favor I ask.”

Yokïmi gave him another nod, accepting the task. “I’ll be leaving by mid-afternoon tomorrow. I’ll want to find the Sanctuary before the first snows fly. Getting near to the fire mountains will help keep the cold away for a time.”

“I’ll speak with him tonight. He won’t deny me this. He’ll be ready to leave with you.” Katashi stepped closer, reaching out to place a quiet, supportive hand on her shoulder. “I’m not sure I’ve done right by you. But I’ve done what I can. May it be enough for you to find your way.”

She reached up and covered his hand with her opposite one, squeezing it comfortingly. “This isn’t a forever farewell. I’ll return. I need your wisdom, and you’re the only family I have left.” She summoned as kind a smile as she could. “And for what it’s worth, you did right. If my father were here, he’d agree.”

Yokïmi meant it, more than she expected that she would. When it came down to the actual act of leaving, she found it harder than she had expected. He might never be able to accept who I am. There will always be a space between us. But such is family.

And so, she left so much unspoken. She wanted to leave with a state of peace between them. It wasn’t an entirely truthful peace, but she decided it was a righteous one. A time would come when all would be exposed between them, but her life didn’t need that strife on the eve of her leaving. Forgive me, Farrum. You may love knowledge, but this time it’s better for both of us if you stay in the dark.

Chapter 10

“My finely tuned predoran senses tell me we should follow that ravine to the top of the hill,” Parrun said with utter confidence.

Yokïmi considered the dried river bed that had become the trench-style ravine he was talking about. It looked like a giant had dragged a scoop along the side of the slope to create the natural path. She couldn’t see any reason to favor it over any other path, nor anything that would suggest it would lead to the Sanctuary that was the target of their hunt.

“My well-honed humanoid senses tell me you are speaking nonsense in an effort to make it seem like we aren’t lost,” she said with a small sigh. “I feel like we’ve been lost since we left Nagoye village.”

Parrun flickered his feline tail. His ears resembled a bobcat’s, but his tail was more akin to a house cat: thin, sleek, and capable of fluffing up when threatened. Right then, she read the tail’s casual sway as an expression of his haughty pride refusing to accept her mocking assessment. “Pish. We’re not lost. Since we are looking for an unknown location, by definition, we can’t be lost. Not until we decide to return to where we came from and can’t get there.”

She looked back down the long, gently inclined, grassy field they had crossed. The line of forest behind them looked utterly unremarkable, without a single landmark. “We left Nagoye four days ago. Could you find it again?”

“Maybe not immediately,” Parrun admitted, though it didn’t seem to deflate him.

“That’s why you want to go to the top of the hill, isn’t it?” she accused him. “To see if you can figure out where we are.”

“Merely a fortuitous, secondary benefit to making the climb,” Parrun evaded. “Who’s to say we won’t see the Sanctuary from up there?”

Because I doubt the zaskran monks would be so careless with showing their hidden enclave, was her immediate thought. But she didn’t say it out loud. It was needlessly argumentative, and she really didn’t have a better idea. With a shrug, she turned toward the ravine and trudged up it at the mashashi’s side.

As always, she both admired and envied the smallfolk predoran’s effortless stride. He was a nearly a foot shorter than her, yet he loped along with feral grace. He never seemed physically tired when they stopped for the night, no matter how much ground they had covered. He might get grouchy and mentally exhausted more rapidly, not to mention distracted by random things like this ravine, or irritated when potential leads or clues didn’t pan out. But his physical endurance was impressive.

Thus, it was no surprise that he drew ahead in the climb and gained the top of the hill a few dozen paces ahead of her. “Suns are coming out. Those clouds we thought were going to rain on us look like they are breaking up.”

She finished her own climb, her breathing only slightly heavier for the effort. Haruto would be giving her a hard look, chastising her silently for spending too much time with books and not enough on a practice mat. She’d be right. And a few weeks strolling through the wilderness aren’t enough to reverse that. I need to find balance. Another priority for when I reach the Sanctuary.

“Rain wouldn’t be so bad,” she replied, standing tall and stretching to loosen her lower back. It was an odd thing. She had come to see the world in a different way. The day was fairly warm, but even if it was cool and the rain that came down was cold, she had a spell to offset the chill on her body which meant the rain would have little effect except to cleanse her of the sweat and dust she’d picked up over the day. It would be refreshing. It wasn’t like she had clothing or equipment that would get soaked or ruined.

“Speak for yourself,” Parrun grouched. It would be a mistake to parallel predorans or their cat-kin cousins with pure feline nature. But there were some similarities, and one of them was a relative lack of enjoyment with the idea of being wet. Cat-kin truly hated it, and were quick to voice their displeasure. Most predorans merely disliked it, and trended toward putting up with the annoyance in stoic silence. Or, in Parrun’s case, near-silence.

“I was,” she chirped at him softly, then let out a small groan as her stretch got rid of the small kink she’d been feeling near the small of her back. The sunslight was lovely. She knew it as an illusion that it was piercing into the depths of her, but it sure felt like the light was warming her right to the core.

Parrun glanced up at her, then glanced rapidly away. “Damn, but you’re something else in the sun.” His mouth twitched with a small bit of self-mocking humor, then looked back over the trees, doing his best to ignore her.

Yokïmi returned a quiet smile, not giving him a hard time. Her crystal-skin was refracting and bending the suns’ radiance, and while it didn’t come across as dazzling or painful to the eyes, she had been told enough times that the effect could be stunning when she stood in direct daylight.

Parrun wasn’t immune to desire, but of all those who seemed to be drawn in by humanoid females, his libido in that area was remarkably low. His clear preference was for females of his own kind, though he referred to female cat-kin as being worthy of his ‘sweet tooth’, too cute for him to ignore for long. He barely seemed to notice the naked, glass-skinned, human woman strolling along next to him. However else she might tease him as part of their friendship, her way of thanking him was not to rag on him too hard when his latent desire for her was inadvertently brought out into the open.

Giving him space, she paced to a small rocky bluff and looked out over the treetops off to the west. A wind was blowing in, not heavy enough to signal a storm, but nice and cool to counter the power of the suns.

Except… she noticed a patch of trees where the wind wasn’t moving their leaves. A shimmer of odd color tricked her eye. “What’s that?”

Her summons gave Parrun a natural distraction from his embarrassment. He scampered over to her side and followed the path of her gaze. He let out a soft curse. “I think that’s a faelapse.”

“Truly?” Yokïmi’s interest grew, as did her concern. “How can you tell?”

“The stillness is the key telltale. The shimmer around it can also give it away. Sort of like peering through a soap bubble, but you need to see it in the right light.” He shook his head. “But the stillness… you can’t miss that. Everything stops inside. Animals. The elements slow. Air can move, but the wind will break. Fire is creepy. It slithers like oil instead of crackling. And then all of a sudden, it all snaps back into normal. Except now, there’s a monster or aberration left behind.”

“From the fae,” she said, adding to his thought. She narrowed her eyes, as if she might be able to see such a creature forming.

“Yeah. There’s usually some new elemental formation, like a sudden growth of forest, a couple extra inches of grass, a new rock cliff that rumbles into existence or a burst of spring water that wasn’t there before. Could set off a firestorm, though that’s less likely.” He shrugged. “But what you really need to look out for are the monsters that evolve.”

“From the fae?” Her question echoed her previous statement.

“At times. Heard of some truly weird things that emerge directly from the other realm during a faelapse. But as often as not, the spawn are mutations of what was already here.”

“Did Katashi teach you why it happens?”

“We didn’t get deep into it. He gave us a tale or two. You see, the magic we create by converting materials to energy isn’t a perfect process. A lot gets lost. But nothing is every destroyed. Only changed. The excess energy spirals off into the magical tapestry that infuses the world. We constantly disturb it by shuffling the energy around, and so the turbulence seeks equilibrium. These faelapses are like… correcting functions in one of those Sage-cursed mathematical equations your Farrum kept trying to hammer into us. We fulk with the world with magic, so this is magic fulkin with us back by changing our world.”

“I can’t imagine being in one of those places when it happens.”

“Don’t worry. Apparently, the gods protect their own. Having a soul is a guard against the faelapse twisting you. You won’t even get caught in the stillness. But anything else around you… well, you never know what will stumble out of one. We’d be wise to keep well clear.”

“How long do they last?”

“Impossible to say. The longer they go on, the grander the change. But the longest I’ve ever heard about was around two sunspans. Half an hour or so, that is.”

“Hmm,” she said, not sure what else to say. A memory scratched at her from the back of her mind, remembering another time of awful, utter stillness she had experienced. It was when she awoke in the ruins of her family castle. She recalled the strange deadness in the air. But that couldn’t have been a faelapse, could it? That lasted for hours. It hadn’t stopped even when I got on the boat and drifted away. Was the river quieter? I can’t remember. I wasn’t thinking about that.

Shaking off the suspicion, Yokïmi noticed the wind suddenly regain its hold on the trees in the area they were watching, blowing back to its full strength. “It’s over.”

A scream of terror ripped out of the forest from that same direction.

“No, it’s not.” Parrun flipped the guide ropes for their mule over a nearby tree and jumped off the bluff. He hopped down the slope from rock to rock, avoiding the patches of gravel and loose scruff that would send him toppling to the bottom of the tor.

Not about to be left behind, Yokïmi grasped the emergency spell pouch she kept at the ready lashed to the side of their mule. She’d been giving her Phantom Body Sheath a rest as they had been strolling over easy, grassy terrain. She activated it now, knowing there was bound to be trouble. With those precautions taken, she charged after him. She called on the balance and alertness training her Bellatir teachers had imparted to keep up with the nimble mashashi. For the thousandth time since leaving Atsumae, she blessed Katashi’s expertise in his crafting of the Body Sheath’s magical protection. It was the perfect blend of being able to feel the terrain as if barefoot, but none of it scratched or battered her soles.

They reached the bottom within a few seconds of each other. By then, they were well under the treeline. The woods weren’t overly thick and the underbrush was sparse and passable. A second yell filtered through to them in a language she couldn’t understand, but she could hear the need for help in the cry. They ran in that direction, though Yokïmi tried to keep aware of her surroundings, knowing there was always the potential for a trap. Goblins weren’t unknown in these parts, and they were known for such tricks.

A figure bolted around a tree trunk coming in the opposite direction. It was a zaskran male, and he wasn’t holding anything as he ran. His serpentine face wasn’t capable of conjuring the same range of human emotions, but there was no mistaking the fear in his wide, slit eyes and the panicked churning of his limbs as he ran for his life.

The source of his terror exploded into view soon after. What seemed to be a hulking horror of mottled flesh and wood smashed through a tree that got in its way as it rampaged in the zaskran’s wake. The faeborn monster was stooped in the spine, but the top of its hook-nosed head still crested eight feet. Though its face had more in common with a rotting tree with knots and whorls that only resembled eyes and a maw, it managed to form a snarl of vicious fury.

On stubby legs too short to look normal with its massive torso, the creature stomped after the fleeing serpentian. It swept out with arms that were far too long. They had dragged on the ground until it brought them to bear. The tips of its gnarly fingers were dirty claws made of chipped bone. They scoured deep grooves in the back of the tree it slashed, missing the zaskran by mere inches.

Yokïmi wasn’t well traveled, but she loved stories and had imbibed more than her fair share. Being a noble, most of them tended to be from books that were well-illustrated by artists with actual experience. There weren’t many fae creatures considered common in the world, but this was one with a likeness she had seen before.

“A gods-damned troll,” she cursed. Knowing its nature made her feel no less prepared to stand against such a monstrosity. But it also wasn’t in her to flee and leave the terrified zaskran to his fate.

She didn’t even contemplate closing with the troll to use her Bellatir abilities. Striking it would accomplish about as much as punching a rock from the look of its corded muscles and crusted hide.

“It’s fixated on him. Break its focus!” Yokïmi took her own advice, summoning her Fire Spark spell.

A bright spark burst into existence right in front of the troll’s hollowed-out eyes. It let out a loud snort, but squinted past the glare and reached again for the scrambling zaskran.

By then, Parrun was finishing his own initial spell. What he lacked in depth of magical knowledge, he made up for in the speed of his conjuring. A Fire Bolt speared across the distance between him and the troll.

It jabbed deep into the creature’s chest. That appeared to cause it pain, for it roared and flinched away. The magical fire didn’t extinguish immediately. Tongues of flame licked at its jagged hide. Damage and status tags began to roll off the troll’s body above where the flames singed it.

{-56}

* Burning *

{-5}

* Burning *

{-5}

Ill-fortune struck. Perhaps the sudden appearance of magical fire or the troll’s own roar startled the zaskran. He darted a glance back at exactly the wrong moment and went stumbling headlong onto the leaf-strewn forest bed. Skidding to a stop on painfully skinned hands and knees, he scurried back, trying desperately to gain separation from the monster.

The sudden vulnerability called to the troll. It quenched the fire on its shoulder with a hasty smack of one rugged palm, then stretched out its other twisted hand to snatch up the zaskran and finally rend the elusive prey.

“Incroive zi akaivir!” Yokïmi finished the incantation and flung the steel shavings she had fished from the tiny pouch in the palm of her hand. The neon-pink of her Razor Beam slashed into the troll’s reaching arm. She guided it in a quick jot to the left, half-severing the limb at the elbow.

(-62)

* Crippled: Right Arm – Severe *

* Bleeding *

(-3)

* Bleeding *

(-3)

Greenish-black blood that flowed more like mud gobbed out from the two ends. The troll let out a bellow of anguish and anger combined. This time the zaskran was forgotten. The faeborn latched onto her with murder in its eyes, and its next step was toward her.

“Well, that worked.” Yokïmi backpedaled, retreating along a path that would keep the troll well clear of the cowering zaskran. She backed away slowly until the creature was well separated from him, then turned and darted away, trying to put at least a few trees between them to block her from view.

That didn’t do much. Whether its senses were too sharp or it had a different, faeborn senses to track things in the forest, the troll shouldered aside a tree, pushing its roots right out of the ground, and charged after her with all the subtlety of a rampaging bull.

Yokïmi cursed her own choice to use the Trivial spell first. It had weakened her ever so slightly, and meant casting a second Low-level spell would burn right through her Tolerance levels and reduce her to a shuddering wreck on the ground. She’d made the mistake of doing so once during her training, and she’d resolved to never make that error again. Not that even a well-placed Razor Beam was going to kill this behemoth. Not unless I manage to get a direct strike at a vital spot.

One strike from those grisly claws would end her, which told Yokïmi her only real chance was to evade it and leave it behind to rampage through the forest. There were plenty of faeborn hazards stalking the world. This would be one more until a more powerful huntress presented herself. The best she could hope to do was get Parrun, the zaskran, and herself safely away without ending up as the newly risen creature’s first meal since crossing over into this world.

She circled wide to the left, but the troll proved that while it wasn’t the brightest spark in the fae realm, it wasn’t utterly clueless. It cut the corner, aiming to intercept her with its strangely quick, shuffling gait on its stubby legs. It used its knuckles like a gorilla to push itself faster than it might normally be able.

From behind, she saw another Fire Bolt lash out from Parrun’s hiding spot. It slashed into the back of the troll’s shoulder, once more igniting inside its flesh and spreading another smoldering patch on its hide.

{-58}

* Burning *

{-5}

* Burning *

{-5}

When it turned its head in annoyance, Yokïmi dove behind a scrap of underbrush and crawled fast along a small dip in the forest floor. She tumbled into the grimy space made by a small rivulet. Ignoring the icky feeling of the mud oozing over her skin, she dragged herself further from where the troll would look for her.

Not seeing the well hidden predoran who had injured it, the monster turned back toward her… and found her suddenly missing. With a terrible scream, it raced to the last spot it had seen her and tore into the forest, ripping out plants, grass, and even a couple small trees as it vented its fury.

Yokïmi had never had such a good reason to crawl so fast, but she set records now, despite the hateful feeling of squirming through the muck. Her life could depend on getting a few more body lengths away from the rampaging troll, so she kept struggling until she got over a small ridge and skidded down another slope. She came to a messy rest. Her nose curled up in disgust as one hand sunk up to the elbow in a slurry.

“Stay down,” Parrun whispered from her side. He’d slipped up beside her, half-dragging the zaskran along with him. “It hasn’t found us yet, but it’s still out there.”

“I don’t have the strength to summon another useful spell,” she whispered.

“Only got the strength for one last Low-Level spell myself,” he confessed.

Cowering near them, the zaskran darted his eyes from one to the other, appearing to harbor some fear of them. But the threat of the troll outweighed it. He hissed out carefully, “I could give you both added sstrength.”

“How?” Yokïmi whispered back.

“I’m a dedicant to Zifyiveth, the sserpentian triad’ss goddesss. Those who can funnel Divine power through faith tend to have powerss that ssusstain and passs on the sstrength of their goddesss to otherss.”

“Including bolstering our Channeling Talent?” she pressed.

“I am but a neophyte. But yess, to ssome ssmall meassure.” The zaskran risked a quick glance out of the small ravine, then dropped down fast from what he saw. “The troll will not take long to find uss. We musst hurry!”

“I can conjure a mist to help us disappear,” Yokïmi suggested.

“If it finds us, you’ll be weakened again,” Parrun warned her. “We’ll be back where we started. Worse if our neophyte here can’t boost us again.”

“I can’t. Refresshing Ressilience is difficult. I can only do it once for each of you.” The serpentian fell in on himself, concentrating in what seemed like communion with his goddess to activate his power.

“You can’t be serious about trying to kill it,” Yokïmi said, meeting Parrun’s fierce gaze.

“We’ve already hurt it. All we need is a plan.”

A terrifying roar thundered out from the troll as it continued to smash about the forest around them.

“A fast plan,” Parrun amended. He tapped her palm from where she had conjured her destructive spell. “Your Razor Beam cut into it.”

“I couldn’t even shave off a limb. It’s not shaped like a human. I’m not sure where I can cut it to ensure I’d kill it. The thing’s skull might be too thick to slice through.” Yokïmi considered further. “Your fire seemed to hurt it. Better still, it lingered. As if it liked the creature’s flesh. We need to get the fire deeper. You need to unleash it right between the cursed thing’s jaws.”

“Before or while it eats me?” Parrun hissed back.

A soft glow suffused them both, thankfully not very noticeable. Yokïmi felt a sudden rush of vitality as her Tolerance was partially refreshed, giving her a somewhat renewed ability to endure physical torment. Or… to cast physical domain spells. Maybe not much, but she trusted it was enough for one more Low-Level spell.

The new inner strength seemed to awaken ideas in her. She couldn’t be sure it wasn’t her desperation speaking, but it was the best option she could bring to mind. “I can use my Razor Beam to cut at its legs. If I can cripple and trip it, that will give you the opening you need.”

“Can you make that sort of precision strike?” Parrun asked.

“I… maybe,” was the best she could answer. She felt confident, but she was still a novice with the spell. She didn’t want to bet his life on her nigh-untested accuracy. Her eyes drifted to the nervous zaskran trembling beside them. “If we could draw the troll into the position we want, my odds improve.”

The neophyte gawked as Parrun also looked his way in amused consideration. “Am I to be ussed ass bait?”

“Relax. You’ve got experience. It was chasing you before,” Parrun said as comfortingly as he could.

The zaskran again looked back and forth between them. Neither gave any ground. He let out an exasperated hiss. “I hate thiss plan.”

“But you’ll do it?” Yokïmi pressed.

“Yess! But if you misss with your sspell, I will not be pleassed. I love my goddesss, but my heart iss not yet ready to meet her!”

The trio spread out, creeping into positions to take their chance at destroying the troll. When the time came, though it was Yokïmi’s idea, it was Parrun who flashed the signal, ensuring that her transparent skin and low Aura wouldn’t cause either of the others to simply miss it.

The zaskran summoned his courage and leaped out into the open. He didn’t need to make any sort of call. The troll locked onto him immediately, raising another of its fierce roars. It charged in without any real concern for safety. It wanted nothing more than to kill after being forced into this skulking game.

Yokïmi had to admire how the zaskran buried his fear and didn’t simply bolt as fast as he could. He ran at the right pace to draw the troll in, ensuring it wouldn’t give up and go looking for the other prey it knew was lurking nearby.

She held her breath, drops of perspiration rolling down her forehead and cheeks as she timed the right moment to make her strike. She was whispering her spell under her breath, clutching the last set of steel filings in her pouch. Even if she could gather more energy to cast another, this was the last chance for this particular spell. She had to be perfect. A second too early, and the troll would see her and cave in her skull. Too late, and her chance would be gone. The range would open and she might risk missing. If she missed, the zaskran would likely die, and they would probably follow not long after.

Suddenly the creature was in the perfect spot. Now or never. She slithered higher on the slope hiding her and intoned the power words with sharp ferocity, more than ready to have this thing sent back to the fae realm.

Her ray of conjured, pink, cutting energy slashed through the forest for the second time. She sliced it in low, right at the back of the troll’s lumpy legs, carving horizontally in an attempt to sever whatever passed for critical tendons there. The troll’s angry bellows turned for the first time into screams of pain and uncertainty. It lost its balance and tumbled into the turf, kicking up clumps of forest undergrowth. Its bulk skidded to a stop using its face as a brake, causing no small measure of ragged ground-raking damage as gnarled roots hidden under the dirt pound his head and chest.

(-92)  {-13}

* Crippled: Legs – Severe *

* Bleeding *

(-4)

* Bleeding *

(-4)

Despite the punishment, the troll smashed its fists into the ground and tried to force its way back to its feet. When it staggered, the monster grew more enraged by its inability to continue its assault.

Parrun sucked in a sharp breath of his own and darted in from one side. His own hands were shaping runes as he went, snarling the final incantation as he appeared in front of the troll’s face. Flinging out his hand, he ripped a Fire Bolt into the creature’s open maw.

The lance of fiery energy struck the back of its mouth and exploded. Smoke billowed out as its drool was turned to steam. Flames licked out around the troll’s teeth and lips. Its skeleton was briefly lit up from the inside by the powerful blast. Its sunken eyes steamed, as if they had boiled right in their sockets.

{-87}

* Blinded *

* Burning *

{-5}

* Burning *

{-5}

The troll shook violently, throwing its arms back and forth in an unseeing, pained fury. It clipped Parrun, sending the smallfolk predoran soaring away and into the brush, an ugly bruise tag forming on his chest and the sound of breaking ribs clearly audible.

[-31]

She yelled his name, not thinking as she raced into the fray to distract the injured troll before it did any more damage. A blow like that would have chopped her PDP in half, and she couldn’t see Parrun having many more than she did.

The Ekanshin style was not good at striking blows at hunks of flesh like the troll. She couldn’t believe her various pressure point strikes would work. The distorted creature was different than any body she had ever practiced on or studied under Haruto’s tutelage. Not trying to be fancy, she leaped into the air and came crashing down with a kick against the troll’s seared face. An ugly splotch formed on its cheek as a bone underneath cracked.

[-10]

The blow wasn’t enough to finish it. She ducked low under a blind swipe of its left claw. The air whooshed mightily, making her hair billow in its wake. It would have taken her head off if her reflexes hadn’t been up to the task. On instinct, she drove a Numbing Strike pressure point attack at the back of its elbow, but her stiffened fingers doing the jab nearly broke. The troll’s hide was as hard as mountain rock. Her Technique wasn’t strong enough to pierce through.

The attempt cost her time, and she was forced to dodge sideways as the creature reversed the swing of its arm and backhanded into her torso. She rolled with it, dulling the impact and saving her own ribcage from anything worse than a bad rattling. She was shoved into a frantic roll, and she came up sputtering with dirt in her teeth and a deep bruise tag forming on her shoulder.

[-19]

Hunting by sound, the troll dug its claws into the earth and crawled after her, dragging its legs behind it. Blood seeped from its maw as it snarled and gnashed its teeth, hungry for revenge.

The zaskran neophyte appeared behind it. He hadn’t kept running. Instead, he had located a branch with a heavy enough knob at the head that it resembled a cudgel. He came in behind the monster, jumped to give himself a little more momentum, then brought the wooden weapon smashing down on the troll’s head.

Its thick skull caused the makeshift cudgel to snap, but the head was forced down to where its chin impact against the ground, aggravating the damage.

[-14]  {-3}

* Stunned *

The troll swayed woozily, the cumulative damage finally overwhelming its Tolerance and stopping its ferocious advance on Yokïmi.

Rather than give it time, she scrambled to her feet, gritted her teeth, and launched herself into a flying side kick. The blade of her foot hammered into the creature’s drooping head. The cudgel strike had done its work to soften its skull, and now her well-executed blow took advantage and caved it in and crushed the troll’s brain.

[-14]

* Dead *

The monster collapsed to the forest dirt. She sagged unsteadily on her own feet, still trying to shake off the blow she’d taken, difficult with her magic-depleted Tolerance. The sense of weakness kept coming, and she slumped fully to her knees.

“Parrun,” she gasped out toward the zaskran, who was standing behind the troll, looking shocked and uncertain what to do next.

Returning a jerky nod, the neophyte rushed over to where the mashashi had fallen. It was only a dozen paces away, so she heard the zaskran say comfortingly, “I have enough sstrength to offer ssome healing magic. It won’t take away all your pain, but ssome.”

A ragged laugh came from Parrun, giving her the welcome news that he had indeed survived. “Anything is better than nothing. Narrum’s nutsack, that hurt.”

Letting out a rather unseemly snicker, Yokïmi briefly wondered why he had cursed using the Humanoid God, then remembered the Predoran God Ahjlone had no mercy for blasphemers, even those whose faith wasn’t that strong.

Slowly piecing herself back together, she got to her feet and spent a shaky moment confirming her balance. She then trotted over to where Parrun had dropped his knife, plucked it up, and went to join the others. On arriving, she first ensured the neophyte had cast his Divinely-powered magic, and that Parrun was on the path to recovery. The zaskran had his back pressed to a tree, breathing hard as he suffered through his own weakness after channeling so much of his goddess’ power.

“I fear you may come to think less of me,” Yokïmi said, holding the knife idly but in a way that the neophyte could read as a threat. “Especially after what you did. Faked out the troll. Clubbed it to save me. Then healed him.”

The zaskran’s snake-like mouth widened horizontally at the corners in their species version of a smile. “You resscued me. My life iss yourss to sspend.”

“Not sure I agree with that way of looking at the world, but right this second I’m not going to quibble about using it.” She wagged the point of the knife at him, getting back to the point she intended to raise. “I’ve no wish to linger around the troll corpse, but before we take another step, you need to tell us why you were near enough to us to get caught in the faelapse.”

The neophyte froze under her gaze.

She let out a soft sigh. “Ai ya, it is too late for such games. We’re in the middle of the open wilderness. Parrun and I are probably the only soul-beings in this whole region. We happen to be looking for a zaskran Sanctuary which is practically a legend. And we happen to stumble upon a zaskran? I’ve never been a suspicious sort, but that isn’t a coincidence I’m going to accept.”

Parrun looked up at her in surprise, then back at the neophyte, then over to her again. “That’s… oh… yeah, that’s… probably wise.”

Yokïmi flashed him a quick grin, instantly forgiving her always energetic but not always practically-minded friend. She focused back on the zaskran who was quickly becoming their captive. She rolled her shoulder and grimaced, trying to work out the stiffness setting in around the bad blow the troll had given her.

“I’ve no wish to start a fight with you. Exactly the opposite. I’ve the best of intentions for seeking out the Sanctuary. But I need to know where you stand. Why were you shadowing us?”

“To determine why you wanted to find uss,” the zaskran admitted.

“What’s your name?”

“Berisss,” the middle-folk serpentian replied without hesitation.

“And you’re one of the Sanctuary folk?”

“Born to it. There are not many young oness native to the Ssanctuary, but I am one.”

“And there is a temple to Zifyiveth inside the monastery?”

“The Ssanctuary iss a colony for our kind. Mosst who live there are but farmerss. But iss a temple.”

And a Bellatir training dojo. And a retreat for a few ChiKiln masters. At least… I hope. Yokïmi said nothing of this. If that was a secret path closely guarded by the zaskran, she didn’t want to spoil this chance to earn an introduction.

“So, you were sent to keep watch on us,” she said. “Were you also sent to lead us astray? Have we been walking in circles because of you?”

“I’ve not the Sskillss. I wass only to watch you. If other action wass needed, otherss would have been ssummoned.”

To send us away or kill us if we wouldn’t go, she supposed. She didn’t level the accusation at him, deciding it would serve only to poison this fortuitous chance to shift how the zaskran perceived them.

“You weren’t all that close to us for watching,” she noted.

“Forgive me for ssaying.” Beriss dipped his head in shame. “But you are not eassy to keep locked in my mind. Your masshasshi friend would occassionally vanissh into the woodss. When I losst track of him, following you alone was… oddly difficult.”

“Indeed,” was her only answer, trying to smother the small swirl of emotions that rose inside her.

“Why doess thiss both amusse you and anger you?” Beriss asked, his tone puzzled.

Her humor fled and she clenched her teeth as the snake-kin reminded her of another of her Curses. She answered as succinctly as she could to avoid antagonizing him while not giving away more secrets. “Evil magic was cast on me. Most of the time, it causes me nothing but problems. Every now and then, it has an unexpected benefit.” She paused, wondering if that was the right way to describe it. Then, she nodded. “If you had been tracking us more closely, you might have never drawn the troll’s notice when it appeared in the faelapse.”

“Oh, yes. We very much appreciate you nearly getting eaten so as to flush you out,” Parrun quipped with a little added snark as he felt along his still-tender ribs.

Beriss went quiet, once again looking uncertain. “I’ve no idea what to do now. If I resst long enough, I’ll be able to ssend a sshort mental ssummonss to thosse in the temple. But what sshall I tell them? If I walk toward the Ssanctuary, you are both ssure to follow. If you do, they will come to meet you.”

“To chase us away?” she guessed.

“Yess. But only if they find uss while we are sstill far away. They will not be sso kind if they think you have determined the way in.”

Yokïmi decided the knife was unnecessary. She tossed it over to Parrun, then rested her elbows on her knees as she braced her feet against a fallen tree stump that the troll had knocked over. “Would you be willing to consider speaking for us?”

“I do not know why you have come to find uss. I owe you much, but I cannot be the causse of the Ssanctuary’s fall.” The very idea seemed to panic Beriss a bit.

“Never our intent,” she blurted back, then let out a wry laugh. “Though would not an enemy say the same?” She took a long breath, then tried to think of a way past the impasse. “Can you bring someone out to meet us? One who can judge the worthiness of why I’m here?”

Fresh concern flickered over Beriss’s face. “If I do, then they will send Talisskhan.”

“Does he hate our kind?”

“Not yourss above any otherss. But he hass sseen too many retreatss like ourss fall. Been alive long enough to ssee the zaskran people lossse much of our ancient holy groundss. He doess not think well of any outssiderss.”

“Then if we can convince him, none of the others in the Sanctuary would question his approval.”

“Perhapss sso,” Beriss said with due caution, clearly not wanting to extend any sort of promise he couldn’t keep.

Yokïmi glanced over to Parrun, seeking his opinion.

The predoran gave her a shrug back. “It’s why we are here. If we actually found the place and walked in among them, they might have killed us out of hand. This might be the better path. Submit for their judgement. If you don’t like the answer, figure something else out.”

“This judge’s word will cut both ways,” she mused. “If he decides against us, there won’t be anyone else among their kind who will dispute our banishment. It will be all or nothing.” But even though she tossed out the argument, her heart already knew the right answer. This is the way forward. It’s either this or find another path.

She met Beriss’ gaze. “Let’s get away from that damned troll before it starts to rot. Faeborn smell no prettier than natural creatures when the maggots get to them. We can find a spot to rest until you are strong enough to summon the one you call Taliskhan. Then…well, I’ll take whatever test he levies on me. For better or for worse, I need to see this through.”

Chapter 11

Taliskhan was impressive.

That was Yokïmi’s first thought, but she quickly corrected herself. Better to call him imposing.

Zaskrans were the middle-range race within the serpentian triad, putting them in the same range as humans. But just as orcs, as the goblinoid middle-race, tended to be substantially larger and more hulking than humans, zaskrans trended toward being half a foot shorter.

But there were aberrant members of every species. Taliskhan was one of them. He crested six feet without any hair on his head to add to his apparent height. He retained his kind’s relative slenderness, but even with narrow shoulders and lean chest, he could still loom over a person. His determined, fierce eyes blinked far less frequently than a human’s, adding to the intimidating, almost disturbing way he was different from human expectations.

He also didn’t move ‘right’. There was an oily smooth grace to his movements. Serpentians had prolonged lives compared to most racial triads, second only to the elves and the other fae-kin. Taliskhan had likely been practicing the same martial arts Yokïmi sought to master for centuries, and it showed in his effortless balance and the lurking power in his rippling musculature.

Yokïmi ceased questioning at that point whether she should have selected a different meeting ground better suited to giving her a combat advantage, or held off longer until all of her Resilience points had been refreshed. None of it mattered. There wasn’t a fighting ground where she could match this zaskran on even footing, even if she was the healthiest she had ever been. This was the master of her former master. Crushing her like would take about as much effort as stepping on a bug.

She glanced over at Parrun, hoping the at-times sarcastic predoran was getting the same message. The last thing she needed was for him to grow an attitude and cause trouble.

She needn’t have worried. Rather than hovering on the edge of a sardonic jest, Parrun was in rapt awe as he watched the zaskran master make his way down one of the rocky cliffs leading into the natural ravine surrounding the pool they had chosen for the meeting.

Beriss took it one step further. He went to his knees and dipped into a bow so low that his forehead brushed the scraggly weeds growing around the shore. “Deepesst resspectss, Masster. It iss an honor that it iss you who hass ansswered my ssummonss.”

“Could it have been any other for thiss matter?” Taliskhan’s voice was a baritone blend of uncompromising severity and viscid honey. He accepted the neophyte’s display as his due without giving being snidely arrogant about it. He glided past Beriss and circled around to the pair of supplicants. Yokïmi had the distinct impression that she was being judged by his penetrating focus; a gaze that absorbed far more than what lay on her surface. Unlike with other people since her change, she felt nothing overtly sexual about his attention, yet in some ways she felt far more naked under his uncompromising glare.

“What are you?” Taliskhan demanded without preamble.

“A human, altered by magic.” She wanted to think her words were crafted to be simple as an appeal to his direct nature. If she was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she could have summoned many more under his piercing stare.

Taliskhan didn’t react to the information, accepting it without question and shifting to a different track. “Our Ssanctuary appearss on no mapss. No legendss sspeak of it accurately. We have purpossefully allowed rumorss to sspread that ssuggest approaching uss iss to rissk death. What more musst we do for outssiderss to accept our wishess and leave uss alone?”

“All of which I believe. Yet… I know you’ve embraced at least one outsider as your own,” Yokïmi said with all the confidence she could summon.

The zaskran master piercing glare hadn’t wavered, but it sharpened with a promise of potential violence. “Who are you?”

“The student of Haruto Kai.”

Despite his iron control, a break appeared in Taliskhan’s stolid façade.

“Her story is well-known to me,” Yokïmi forged ahead. “Shishaku Iyanno possesses the lands far to the north, beyond the range of fire mountains and bordering on the northern tundra. His lack of respect for the other triads is well known.”

“A concerted effort to eradicate all but humanoid-kind from within hiss landss goess beyond mere dissresspect,” the zaskran master intoned with storm clouds gathering about him.

Yokïmi fell into a demure bow. “True. And that touched Haruto’s heart when she witnessed one of the lord’s Samurai lead a contingent of Ashigaru foot soldiers to hunt down a hidden hamlet filled with your kind. She was but the daughter of a cobbler, with no recourse but desperation. The sort of rash impulse that would bring her in search of rumors and legends not marked on any map. But she found you. She warned you.”

His head canted every so slightly to one side, as if hunting for signs of deception in her.

Though it grated on Yokïmi’s nerves to thank her brother’s magic for anything, she was forced to be grateful for the emotional transparency foisted upon her by her Curse. Search all you want. You won’t find a scrap of lies in me.

“From what Haruto told me,” she added, “you arrived in time to fend off the soldiers and convince the inhabitants of the hamlet to come to the Sanctuary for protection. And as a final gift, gave the human girl the chance to learn at the feet of a master. To tread a new path.”

“I wass a young zasskranling from that hamlet,” Beriss whispered from his knees. He had come up from being prostrate, but had yet to rise to his feet.

“Barely more than a hatchling,” Taliskhan said, a wispy trace of fondness curling about the words. He returned his piercing focus to her, then huffed in dismissal. “Posssible that you gathered thiss tale from another.” His eyes narrowed as he considered another test. “Haruto Kai wore a ssignature item about her persson.”

“Four items, to be accurate,” Yokïmi countered. “Two bracelets and two anklets of a matched set. They were shaded to match her skin, making them difficult to spot at first glance.”

“Engraved upon them?”

“Herons.”

That sank the zaskran into a long pause. With inhuman stillness, he examined the strange human impertinent enough to have all the answers to his challenges.

Then he was in motion. He crossed the space between them with blurring speed. His threw a right-handed palm strike at her chest, but never came close to touching her. A wave of what felt like wind washed over her, strong enough to sway her backward and off-balance. His feet did a quick shuffle, then his lead foot hooked out and sought to wedge behind her ankle to send her into a trip that would leave her prone on her back.

Stunned by the sudden attack, Yokïmi fell back on her instincts. She had seen the attack pattern before, though Haruto had never generated a blast of wind. Her teacher simply struck her palm against the defender’s chest bone before the hook trip. But the end result was similar.

Yokïmi had often supposed there were likely multiple ways to escape the move. But Haruto had drilled her on one pattern. Without even a split second to consider her options, she slid into that same reflexive response. Rather than fight the falling motion from the wind palm strike, she surrendered her balance. She used the last contact her feet had with the ground to generate a spinning motion. If executed properly, it would whip her around and bring the point of her toe slicing in at the pressure point just above the attacker’s knee. She could then cause pain or a numbing blow to the leg that had tried to trip her. The Ekanshin art was filled with such moves that attempted to use the adversary’s own energy and efforts against them.

Except, she failed in the maneuver. It was an advanced move, and she’d only ever made it work a few times on the practice mats. Never against an opponent of supernatural speed and expert precision, and never on demand without preparing herself first. Her feet failed to gain enough traction before she lost touch with the ground. Her spin stalled when she was barely halfway around. Tangled legs were the result, and that only made the effect of the trip worse. She spilled to the muddy dirt heavily, prevented from a truly horrible impact by a quick positioning of her hands to take the impact instead of her shoulders or face.

[-4]

* Tripped *

Gritting her teeth at her own foolishness, Yokïmi rolled to the side, hoping against hope to evade the zaskran’s next attack. Defeating him was a ridiculous dream, but her instincts demanded that she at least try to survive.

But no attack followed. As she sprang back to her feet, she found the zaskran master standing immobile once more, watching her with all the passion of a spider examining a bug in its web.

Parrun had snapped out of his awe-struck stupor, enough to have drawn his knife. He now held it in a threatening posture. His other hand was dancing around the drawstrings of one of the pouches with a spell component, probably the right one to conjure another Fire Bolt. They had rested long enough that he might have the strength to cast another.

Beriss remained frozen, only his eyes moving as they ticked from one person to the next. If his master decided to kill the strangers despite his request, he showed every sign that he wouldn’t raise a finger to stop it from happening. His loyalties were clear.

“You are her sstudent,” Taliskhan said with a trace of wonder.

“What?” Breathing heavily from the rush of danger, Yokïmi was thrown totally off kilter. She remained in her fighting stance, sure that another strike was coming.

Parrun parroted her, “What? That convinced you? But she fell!”

“Yess. It wass poorly done.” Taliskhan’s answer was delivered with such direct uncompromising honesty that Yokïmi would have blushed in embarrassment if she was still capable of it.  “But sshe tried thiss movement before any other. Only an Ekansshin adept insstructed in the variant I have masstered would react in thiss way. It iss… telling.”

Slowly, Yokïmi eased the tension from her muscles, realizing further combat wasn’t going to be necessary. “She was an excellent teacher. Had she a few more years, my skills wouldn’t be so raw.”

“Why did your time together end?”

“She died when my family’s castle was destroyed.” It was the simplest way she could put that. A single phrase. Meant to explain the tragedy with minimal pain. She wasn’t sure it worked.

Taliskhan’s impassivity fractured again. He quelled the hint of grief, rebuilding his composure, but not before she saw it.

Before he could say anything, Yokïmi dipped into another bow that begged his pardon. “Forgive my thoughtlessness. Before she was my mentor, you were hers.”

“For a decade,” he said in his deep, flat tone. He was behind his emotional armor, shielding any of them from seeing his own pain. “Did you come here to tell me thiss?”

“Since she trained here, I knew I would be telling someone of her death who cared for her. But I didn’t know who you were or even that you existed until Beriss told us.”

“Which iss then too thin a reasson for you to venture thiss far and rissk thiss much.”

She held her hands to each side, inviting him to really see her. “As I said, I’m human. What you see is not my real nature. Only… it’s becoming so. Of all the things I might be able to change, this new body feels more permanent with every passing day. I’m going to exist like this for the balance of my life, and I need to learn to accept that.”

“I’ve never sseen thiss condition before.”

“Ah, yes.” Yokïmi let out a sad, dark laugh. “The only laudable side of my brother was his over-active imagination. Creative even in his cruelty.” She embraced his example and tried to push her emotions down. He’d be able to see them so long as she was feeling them, and she didn’t want to feel that vulnerable in front of him. “Haruto found a new life here. It changed her. Gave her an identity she could cherish. I want the chance to carry on that path.”

“To honor her?” Taliskhan pressed.

“She would be honored that I chose this. I can’t ignore that, nor that it pleases me to think of her smiling on me from Narrum’s paradise, if that is where she has gone.”

“Did sshe become a believer? Sshe wass never sstrong in faith.”

“No,” she sighed. “In my heart, I know she has entered the River of Souls to merge with a new form and to find a new life. Would that I had the magic to find the spark of her soul in whoever she is going to become.” She shook her head. “But not even the gods have that power.”

“Except for the Goddesss of the River?” Taliskhan suggested, reminding her of one commonly held belief.

Ignoring the temptation to wax poetic about Divine myths, Yokïmi said, “What I’m trying to say is that my future cannot be governed by her approval, however much I might want it. I love what she taught me. That’s why I’m here. I’m hoping whatever love you held for Haruto might sway you to consider teaching me in her place. It was her wish to have me learn the Ekanshin style. You can fulfill that wish.”

“Are you assking me to be the one to take the burden of honoring her?” the zaskran rumbled.

“You kept Haruto with you for so long. You must have thought teaching a human to be a worthy effort. I can’t believe you did so merely because of her good deed. There were other ways to reward a person. You were the one to offer her a place among your kind. You wanted her there. Has that desire vanished? Or do you still want a human dedicant who knows your ways?” She paused to take a long, tired breath. She couldn’t find any other clever words for him. There was nothing left but to accept his judgment. “Your Sanctuary promises me a home away from my own people. Away from a world that’s become a danger to me until I’m ready to face it on my own terms. Please, I… I need your help. I want you to teach me.”

Taliskhan was silent again as he weighed his options. There was none of the fidgeting that a human might let slip. No shifting of his eyes. In statue stillness, his stare remained fixed on her with unnerving bluntness.

“Life among uss will not be eassy,” he said at last.

“I’ll do what’s asked of me,” she promised without hesitation.

“When the ssnowss come, you won’t be able to esscape the valley.”

“I’ve no reason to leave.” She called on every scrap of confidence, projecting at him several layers of meaning and willing him to read it all on her face. I won’t quit. This isn’t a prison to escape. You won’t find me unworthy and wish for me to leave. I will become one of you. This will be my new home.

This time, Taliskhan did react, inclining his serpent-like head in a tight nod of acceptance. As miniscule a gesture as that was, Yokïmi knew this was him accepting her as his disciple.

Her heart leapt in joy. As the heady taste of success flooded her, she fell to her knees and replicated the same bow that Beriss had given him. It was the same bow she had given to Haruto when entering the family dojo.

“One knee,” Taliskhan rumbled.

Her head flicked up in mild confusion. “Master?”

“Only the non-practitionerss bow like thiss to me outsside of the practisse area. Haruto Kai hass risen you beyond that level. Thosse who walk the Ekansshin path go to one knee in public.”

Yokïmi obeyed by rising to that position with all the grace she could manage.

Another fraction of a nod carried the zaskran master’s approval. One of his fingers pointed in Parrun’s direction without looking his way. “Your sservant?”

She opened her mouth to answer that he was only her friend –

– Parrun interjected, “One who would be sad to be separated from her, Master. She’s been very kind to me. My last master told me to go with her and keep her safe. Do me the honor of allowing me to keep my word.”

Yokïmi averted her face from the zaskran to glare at the mashashi, praying Taliskhan wouldn’t be able to see through her or Parrun’s ruse. There was a thread of truth in what the predoran was saying, but he was deliberately treading on the wrong side of representing their relationship.

If Taliskhan noticed, he gave no sign. “Then you may remain at her sside. If sshe were a neophyte, thiss would not be allowed.”

“You do Haruto a great honor to think her teachings have made me worthy, but I’ve no wish to mislead you,” she rushed to say. “I’m but a beginner.”

“Humblenesss is another worthy trait. One not often sseen in those who have been nobly born.” The corners of his maw drew very slightly outward in a bare, zaskran style smirk. “Fear not that I hold you in too-high essteem. You sshall be tessted and every weaknesss you posssesss identified. The mercilesss path to eliminating thesse habitss will make you feel like a babe losst in the woodss before the end.” The ghost of a smile vanished. “But falsse modessty only sservess to hinder progresss. I’ve ssampled your Techniquess. I’ve a ssensse of your Abilitiess. Returning to the beginning will wasste both your time and mine. We sshall alwayss aim to progresss. But you may find me to be a far more demanding masster than Haruto Kai ever wass.”

He turned away and flowed back up the rocks with those same oil-slick movements, ascending with what seemed like no more effort than it took to come down.

Yokïmi made to rush after him, sure that they would lose him.

Beriss held up a hand. “Do not. He will crosss to the Ssanctuary too quickly for uss to match. You will ssee him again. I will take you.”

Mollified away from any panic, Yokïmi allowed a touch of anger to enter as she faced Parrun. “Ai ya, what were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t going to let me follow you as a friend,” replied the unrepentant predoran, looking rather proud of his own sharp thinking. “If I’ve got to fetch a few buckets of water and bring you a few meals to keep an eye on you, that’s a small price to pay.”

Her suspicions didn’t fade. He’s got other reasons. He could be free of me, able to walk back into the world to find other amusements. Why sequester himself in a hidden valley filled with zaskrans for an entire winter? She couldn’t understand it. Parrun’s chosen existence was to fill it with revelry, companionship, and freedom. That stood in stark contrast to the monk-like existence he was about to experience.

Leaving that puzzle alone, she flashed a look at Beriss. “And you? You’ve been following us long enough to know who and what we are. Why not tell him?”

“The fulfillment of my promisse,” the neophyte said, placing a hand over his heart and curled his back into a smooth bow. “I deliver the sspirit of the gift you assked of me. Neither of you mean harm to our kind. I believe thiss. And sso, it was not in me to ssee you two ssplit apart.”

“Then you have my thanks,” was all she could think to say, the said to Parrun, “Though you might not thank either of us for letting you get away with this.”

“What, aren’t you going to be a kind Mistress?” He joked, still utterly unapologetic for playing his game.

Her answering frown bounced right off him. Surrendering, Yokïmi sighed and said, “Go get the mule. We need to be off.”

“Orders already? We aren’t in the Sanctuary yet, you know.” Parrun held his mock outrage for just long enough to see her glare forming, then raced off to get the animal.

“Perhapss we could sneak away before he returnss?” Beriss suggested.

“A tempting notion,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But while I meant every word I said to Master Taliskhan about meeting his expectations, Parrun is a friend. I might need one in the coming weeks.”

“There are otherss in the Ssanctuary you will meet.”

She met his eyes. “How many other students does Taliskhan have under his personal tutelage?”

“Ahh… none.”

“Nothing I’ve heard of zaskrans makes them immune to jealousy. And it isn’t only the Master who desires isolation and for outsiders to leave them alone, correct?”

“Very true.”

“Then I suspect friendship with the other Sanctuary dwellers might be slow in coming.” She took a steadying breath. “I’m sure it will come. But until then, it will be nice not to be totally alone.”

“If it matterss at all, you already have one other who will sspeak well of you to the others.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Beriss. That means more than I can say. Now, shall we get up onto the rise before Parrun gets there before us even though he’s the one leading the mule? He’ll mock me for that the whole way to the Sanctuary.”

Chapter 12

“We’ve come to it,” Beriss said, extending a hand to indicate the valley before them. “Here liess the Ssanctuary of the Losst Monolith.”

Yokïmi scanned over the expansive valley revealed as they came through a choke point pass. The jagged hills framing this area were not quite mountains, but their imposing heights and rough terrain made them all but unclimbable, leaving only a half-dozen passes into the hidden dale.

Once through the passes, the valley opened up into a lovely, verdant haven. Instead of scraggly trees and arid rock lands, rich black soil and gently flowing streams gave life to lush grass and long reeds along the shores of the many pools. A few patches of forest existed, but they weren’t widespread, making for long sight lines which allowed them to take in the full majesty from where they stood.

She would have felt an upwelling of awe as she looked out from that vantage. Indeed, she had felt that exact emotion the first time that she and Parrun had been there, which was several weeks prior.

“Huh. I’ll admit it’s a lot smaller than I envisioned after all we’ve heard you speak of it,” Parrun said in a tone that carried a snort of laughter lurking behind it. “Is it hiding in one of those small copses of trees?”

Yokïmi angled a glare at him that suggested he should behave, then added, “We’ve explored this valley. As secluded as it is, this was among the first locales we searched.”

“I know,” Beriss replied. “Thiss iss where we saw you and ressolved to keep track of you until you finally left the region.” He gestured to a shamble of rocks that formed a crude archway rising from the ground not far off. It was made of stacked blocks of stone, hewn from the mountains with no modern artistry. They could have rested there for thousands of years. “It wass alwayss posssible you would sstumble upon the gateway.”

“Gateway?” Yokïmi circled around to peer through the rugged arch, seeing nothing but the valley beyond.

The zaskran stepped up to the stone monolith. “The nature of the magic locked insside is not complex, born from an age when it wass firsst being disscovered by our ancesstorss.” Curling one hand, he pounded the base of his fist into the stone. Yokïmi hadn’t noticed until he did it, but the slab he struck was worn down from thousands upon thousands of similar strikes. He repeated the blow three times in a deliberate cadence.

Through the archway, the scene changed and she gasped in open wonder.

At their current location, the suns were near the end of their trip across the sky for the day. Beyond the gateway, the light suggested a time closer to noon. The added light gave ample view of the other differences.

All of the contours of the valley looked the same, though there might have been minor variations hidden behind the civilization growing over it. A good number of the valley slopes had been turned into steppes with marshy rice ponds. Even as she watched, she saw a zaskran in the distance pull a crayfish from the water, suggesting the Sanctuary monks were using the traditional method of growing seafood in the same pools, likely adding oysters or clams to help keep the water clean. There were residences dotting the landscape made of clay walls and thatched roofs, scattered about without any effort to concentrate them into a tight village. The streams they had seen earlier had been diverted into irrigation paths or stoppered by dams to create small lakes for fishing. Spillways had been erected that could drive waterwheels to power a couple of crude mills. The overall effect was rustic but charming.

Yokïmi shifted to one side and looked around the gateway instead of through it. Nothing about the valley in front of her had changed. It remained an empty if still beautiful expanse. “Ai ya! What magic is this?”

“Sstep through and I will sshow you.” Beriss took his own direction, drifting through the archway. A brief ripple appeared in the air around him as he broke the plane defined by the arch’s middle, but the effect didn’t last long.

Parrun scampered in right behind him, eyes wide with the same awe as before when meeting Taliskhan.

Not about to be left behind, she followed them through. She saw the same distortion flow away from her outline. She didn’t even feel the transition from one place to the next. She finished walking out the far side and stood in the open sunshine, gawking at the fully revealed Sanctuary.

“What is this place?” she breathed.

“None alive know how our clan came to be here. Legendss perssisst, but I’ve yet to hear one I believe,” Beriss said. He pointed out over the valley, guiding their attention along the distant ridgelines where other passes cut through the hills. “Do you ssee there? And there? All along the ridge. If your eyess are ssharp, you’ll ssee five other monolith ssites. All of them are broken and their magic ruined.”

Yokïmi picked one out, then another. The archways were crumbled into ruin just as Beriss had described, but she could imagine them being nearly identical to the one behind her if they had been standing.

“What does it all mean?” Parrun asked.

“From what we know, this valley existss beyond our world. Try to walk passt the hillss, and you’ll find yourself walking back into the valley from one of the other passsess. Sstories tell that even the few who have gained powerss of flight and ssoar out over the hill peakss find only the valley waiting for them on the far sside. None have ever disscovered what liess beyond.”

“Clever magic,” the mashashi granted.

“Thosse ssame sstoriess sspeak of ssix near-identical valleyss sspread acrosss the world that were not formed naturally. They were sshaped by a Divine hand. The holy among uss believe it wass our Goddesss Zifyiveth who then guided uss to our new home. Each outer valley had its own monolith that led here.”

“And then?” Parrun prodded him.

“One by one, the Monolithss were desstroyed.”

“By who?” Yokïmi had to ask, caught up in the tale.

“An old evil. I’m not ssure if it wass our kind they were hunting or another people who exissted here before uss. Ssomehow, one of the Monolithss was concealed and rendered losst to the world’ss knowledge. It hass been our tassk to keep itss location ssecret. Both for our own ssake and to prevent it from being revealed to that evil sshould it still exisst. We fear it will return to complete the Ssanctuary’ss annihilation.”

She turned in a slow circle, taking in the magical valley with new eyes. “I can see why they would want this to remain protected.” Her gaze settled on a large pavilion by the shore of the largest lake. “A gathering place?”

“Of a ssort. That iss the primary Ekansshin dojo.”

“Ahh. I’ll be getting to know that well.”

“Perhapss,” Beriss said, but then amended her expectations. “However, Masster Talisskhan hass hiss own private dojo. Ass hiss sstudent, you will find your time is sspent there.” He pointed to one of the rugged hills and a stone staircase cut into the side, leading up to a small compound positioned far up the slope. “That iss hiss home. Only you will be allowed to walk there.”

“You mean both of us?” Parrun asked.

“Only hiss dissciple,” Beriss corrected him.

“How can I be her servant if I can’t even get near her?”

“You will be allowed in the robin’ss cage. It iss our name for the hut the Masster had built for Haruto Kai when sshe wass here.” He pointed to a small hut lower on the same slope, situated at the edge of a cliff. It was reached by a winding path that branched off the main stair leading to Taliskhan’s residence. “There. Go no higher on the sstairss at your peril.”

“At my peril, huh? I’ve never been fond of peril.” Parrun didn’t sound overly happy to have restrictions.

Hearing danger in the comment, Yokïmi canted a warning glance his way.

He flashed her a knowing grin. “Hey, if it was only me here, I might sneak in to have a peek. But I won’t mess this up for you. I swear I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Not sure if his best would be sufficient, her worry didn’t fade completely. He might not see a whole lot of difference between not doing it and not getting caught. Searching for a distraction to her concern, she turned her curiosity on the neophyte, “Where is the temple to your goddess?”

“There.” The zaskran indicated a structure that she could easily have mistaken for a natural mound at the center of a large field, near to one of the smaller lakes created by a dam.

She didn’t ask about it. Next to the castle-like churches preferred by Narrum’s faithful, this seemed beyond humble. But she knew nothing about the edicts of the Serpentian Goddess, and supposed she shouldn’t pass judgment until she knew more.

But his answer caused her one final confusion. Far down the valley at its narrowest point, there was a looming structure clinging to the side of a cliff. This wasn’t positioned at the top of a bluff like Haruto’s hut. It grew right from the shield of exposed rock where the hill had been sheered away as if by an angry god’s axe. This structure was made of the same stone, with only a few wooden embellishments. They seemed like newer elements grafted onto the original fortress, which itself felt as old as the monoliths.

“I would have guessed that was the home of the Faithful,” she said, ensuring there wasn’t any trace of disparagement in her tone. She didn’t want him thinking that she was calling the choice into question.

“That iss known ass the Nesst. Yeztinasss and hiss cabal live there. The are a sspecial kind.”

Risking the revelation of her foreknowledge, Yokïmi guessed, “A cabal of ChiKiln mages?” Seeing surprise dawning on his face, she knew her guess had been right. Not wanting him to dig into how she could have known, she rushed to say, “When I felt Taliskhan use the Wind-punch Technique on me, I thought for sure he was both an Ekanshin master and a ChiKiln practitioner.”

“There are…” Beriss was taken aback by her knowledge, but recovered well. “… taless of thosse who have masstered both. It iss common enough for ChiKilnss to attain ssome ssmall competence ass Bellatirss. Only a few Ekansshin masters do the oppossite. They prefer to utilize the Techniquess developed for them.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Beriss waved for her to follow him, then set off down the slope heading into the valley. “You handled the challenge of ussing magic in our fight with the troll well enough. But even ssimple sspellss can be cumbersome, yess? Cassting them when in reach of an enemy’ss weapon can get you killed.”

“Yeah, he certainly got a chunk out of me,” Parrun grunted, favoring his chest which was still bruised and with potentially cracked ribs underneath, the remnants of what Beriss had not yet been able to magically heal.

“But the Master used magic when he struck me. I felt it,” Yokïmi insisted.

“I’ve sseen him usse that Wind Force Technique before,” the neophyte said. “He hass many otherss learned over hiss many yearss.”

“But it was so fast, and he used no material components. It must have been ChiKiln magic.”

“It wass in a way.” Beriss took them onto a well-worn path leading toward a small collection of huts, the only gathering large enough to be called the center of the community. “He called on hiss Physsical Damage Pointss ass would a ChiKiln to power the magic. Over the centuriess, the ChiKilnss have developed thesse Techniquess for martial artistss to usse. They code spellss right into the martial Techniques, removing the need for conjuring runess or sspeaking power wordss. It issn’t alwayss perfect. At timess, they need to keep a ssmall element of the sspellss.”

“I’ve seen that!” Parrun noted happily, glad to not be lost in the conversation. “I’ve heard a Taudoka scream what sounded like the name of his attack before punching. Is that what that was?”

Yokïmi had never seen it, but she’d heard tell of it. Just as Bellatir was the level path for martial art styles that favored speed and energy manipulation, and Pugilist was for boxers and other blunt-force, hand-based fighters, the Taudoka path were for martial arts that prized body hardening, brutal kicks, and any Technique that could let them survive in the thick of heavy combat.

She wasn’t an expert Sorcerer, but she’d learned enough in the last months to comprehend the danger of what Beriss was describing. “All of those runes and power words help streamline the spell. It’s why I don’t need a bushel of cotton to conjure a fog. If you direct a stripped-down spell like this into your body…”

“The pain intenssifiess,” Beriss confirmed. “All martial artisstss sspend much time in meditation and preparing themsselvess. Locking the sspellss into constricted Techniquess lesssenss the pain. They take much effort and discipline before they can be conjured at will. Martial artisstss rarely learn more than a handful, unlike magess of all kindss who can learn dozenss if not hundredss of sspellss over their livess. But ass you ssusspect, calling on thosse Techniques can eat you away insside if you are not careful.”

Yokïmi found herself wondering about her chosen path. Her devotion to Taliskhan had been in earnest. She wanted to take her Bellatir art to the next level and beyond. But after learning so much about magic, she was equally sure that she wouldn’t be satisfied with mastering only a few spell-like effects crafted by ancient masters. She wanted to be free to explore her magical nature as well as her fighting style. Will I even be happy with that? What of my music, if not my other art? Eventually it will call to me. Can I have everything?

Not sure she wanted the answer, suspecting it would not be to her liking, she asked instead, “Is there a chance I could meet with the ChiKilns? I have Sorcerer levels and would be intrigued to hear of their view on magic.”

“I will assk,” Beriss promised. “But the Masster will put many demandss upon your time, esspecially in the firsst dayss ass he learnss your true limitss.”

“No need to hurry. I’m here to stay.”

They walked past what could barely be called a hamlet of huts. There were all manners of zaskran going about their lives as they passed. Their serpentine eyes came off their work and tracked them walking down the path.

In some ways, their attention had an odd familiarity to Yokïmi. Whenever with her family, she was generally one of the last acknowledged, overshadowed either by her parents or by her elder brother as he was groomed for his eventual succession. When she was noticed, it was often by suitors looking to connect with ladies of agreeable outlook and sufficient rank. That attention had never felt overly sexual. Even once she was old enough to draw such admiration, those interested had been far hungrier for the link to her family than for her body.

Now, her crystalline nature and the Curse combined to push Beriss and Parrun to the forefront. Any notice of her was once again an afterthought. When the zaskrans did draw focus on her, there was a wonderful lack of potent sexual hunger. It was a breath of fresh air, and she decided she could exist happily without hungry eyes on her for a while.

Except for one set of eyes. She carefully hid a smile at the memory of Nua. I’d give anything to see her looking at me again like she did that night.

“Alright, enough tip-toeing around,” Parrun muttered. “Time to start making friends.”

“You aren’t coming up the stairs with us?” she asked.

The predoran flickered the reins to their mule he was still guiding. “Our four-legged friend here might be eager to show his talent at climbing steep hills, but I’m thinking to do it as few times as possible.”

“But we’re living halfway up. You’ve no wish to see the hut?”

“I’ll see the hut soon, I’m sure. But I can’t go see this new Master of yours where he lives, so I might as well talk to these fine folk. As your devoted servant, I’m going to have to buy food from them and stock up our hut, right?”

Beriss interjected, “We do not sell things here in that way. No coins. All is done in trade. For the Masters, we offer gifts, for they teach us the ways that protect us.”

“That might be a problem,” Yokïmi said. “We’ve nothing of value.”

“Which makes it even more important that I earn their trust so I can earn my keep fishing from the river or inserting threads through needles with my claws.” The mashashi summoned a bright smile and led the mule off the path, stepping toward one of the zaskran who seemed to be mending a shirt.

A small concern occurred to her. “You speak Hu’na’laan very well,” Yokïmi murmured in a low voice meant for the neophyte beside her. “Is it a known language in the Sanctuary?”

“We drift between that and the zasskran common tongue. Both were brought here long ago. We venture out to trade with the townss in the region. Knowing the local human tongue iss an important sskill,” Beriss explained. The zaskran gave her a knowing smile. “Your sservant-friend may meet with ressisstance, but it will not be for an inability to comprehend him.” They watched as the sewing zaskran fixed Parrun with a stony expression, as if witnessing a gopher that had suddenly risen to its hind legs and begun to dance a reel. “Well, at leasst hiss language won’t be an isssue. Comprehending what he’ss trying to achieve might take a little longer.”

Yokïmi chuckled, then gestured up at the rising path in front of them. “Let’s not keep the Master waiting.”

She didn’t need Beriss to lead her. It was impossible to miss the stairs ascending up the valley’s side. They were imposing, and not just for how far they went up. They were also high and broad, as if built for Taliskhan’s own stride, and thus uncomfortable for one of her stature. It wouldn’t matter for the first few, or even the first hundred, but the extra few inches demanded by each step would likely wear on her by the top.

She didn’t hesitate. If a simple challenge like this gave her pause, she had best rethink this entire idea. At the same time, although her excitement demanded she take the rising path at a run, she held herself to a more sedate pace to conserve what energy she had.

By the time they reached the cut-off for the path that led to her own hut, she was glad she had been reasonable. They were only halfway up, and she was no longer thinking about running the steps. I will before the end of my training. That’s the promise I’ll make to myself. I’m going to need that sort of endurance if I’m going to use magic or Techniques that are going to sap my PDP.

“You don’t want to ssee your new home?” Beriss asked.

“He’s waiting,” Yokïmi replied. She had no idea how forgiving Taliskhan would be with her first arrival time. But she wasn’t going to take any chances. This was her chance to make a respectful first impression as his student entering the dojo, and she wasn’t going to miss it.

Beriss’ shoulders sank, looking like he had been hoping for a pause.

“I can go on alone,” Yokïmi suggested.

A guilty flash of hope stole over the zaskran’s face, which he squashed almost as quickly. “I dare not.”

“Actually… I think I insist.” Yokïmi nodded as the idea sat well with her.

“But if I do not appear, he’ll think –”

“– exactly what I’ll tell him,” she corrected. “Trust me. I won’t let him think you abandoned me. But finding my way to him all on my own is the sort of statement I wish to make.”

Temptation returned to his face. He clearly wanted to accept and return to his duties… and avoid the remainder of the daunting climb.

Trying to push him into his decision, Yokïmi took the first three steps, standing in the middle of the stairs so he couldn’t easily stand beside her. “Consider it your last favor to me. The debt balance between us is restored.”

Beriss relaxed, now having everything he needed to salve his guilt. He gave a deep bow. “Farewell. May you disscover all that you wisshed to find at the top.” With light steps, he set off back toward the valley floor.

Feeling incredibly light now that she was on her own, Yokïmi did take the next hundred steps at a run. She suddenly realized the last thing she wanted was to arrive at the top looking unruffled, as if she had sauntered up. I’m here to push myself, after all.

Only when fatigue genuinely began to sap at her strength did she slow down, but she continued to push herself to the edge. When she crested the last, she had to place a palm on the top step to give herself a final shove up to her feet. Her back was to a majestic drop-off down into the valley, she didn’t turn around to absorb the effect. She only had eyes for the dojo that was to become her new training ground.

While it didn’t have the same majesty as her family’s castle, there was a sense of centuries of history seeped into every wooden beam. Taliskhan’s residence was the least impressive structure, sufficient to contain a modest sleeping chamber and little more. A separate building appeared to her to be a meditation temple, though the construction and items that filled it weren’t dedicated to a single deity so much as the principles that infused the Ekanshin art: fluidity, energy manipulation, self-control, precision, and using an enemy’s strength against them.

The practice area itself was the central feature. A small portion of it was built under a steepled roof, allowing for sheltered exercise if required. The rest was out under the sun. The tatami mats were fresh, replaced frequently enough that rot due to exposure to the elements wasn’t allowed to persist. It was not a flat space. There were dips, rises, and padded structures around which martial arts could be performed, demanding students to jump from, fall over, flip off, and otherwise deal with during their practice. Several apple, peach, and cherry trees grew though holes in the mats. Their branches shaded a good portion of the mats and provided a different sort of obstacle along with the promise of nourishment.

The cherries were ripe. Taliskhan was finishing the plucking of a small handful. He turned sedately in her direction, measuring her as she stood there gasping from her climb. He took one cherry into his mouth, chewed off the flesh, then smoothly extracted the pit and placed it carefully in a small sack he was carrying lashed to his rope belt. He paced toward her with all of his slick grace from before, but none of the purposeful speed of which he was capable.

“Interessting choice to arrive under duresss,” he said, taking another cherry.

A genuine smile dawned on her face. “You remember me.”

Her zaskran master tilted his head slightly to one side in curious confusion. “Wass there doubt that I would remember an outssider whom I’ve chossen to mentor? One who hass a connection to the only non-zasskran I’ve ever conssidered important in my life?”

“Such is an aspect of the Curse hanging over me.” Yokïmi floated on the relief she felt. The prospect of being forgotten in their short time apart had been a real fear she hadn’t allowed herself to contemplate, yet it had lingered in the hidden parts of her heart until just now.

“I ssee.” He spent a prolonged moment resolving those facts with his understanding of the world around him. In the end, he merely nodded and eschewed any further questions. He merely said, “Commitmentss I make are not so eassily effaced. Not even by a Cursse.”

She drifted closer to him, shaking with the emotions tumbling around inside her. “And I fulfill my promises. I’m here, and I’m not leaving until I’ve become a Bellatir you can be proud of.” With another step, she was on the edge of the practice mats. She swept into a respectful bow, just as she always had when entering her family dojo.

Finishing the gesture, she met his gaze. Not with brashness or attitude or challenge. She simply summoned all the confidence she possessed, using all the meager power of her weakened Aura to project her readiness for what awaited her. “How shall we begin, Master?”

Exactly as it was in the Dreams

Avalessa went into a low crouch on the huge tree branch she was on. The almond shape of her elven eyes narrowed further as she absorbed the fog-shrouded island in front of her, nestled within the greater swamp. The same thought echoed again. She had been to this place before, if only in meditative communion with Oberon, the Elven God who had bestowed on her this Quest.

Every detail is the same as in that dream. The ancient, mangrove trees growing from the brackish, salty water to create this island in the murk. The heavy, swirling fog perpetually smothering the valley, clinging to the sun-starved vegetation. The thick organic musk of choked swamplands, where decay and rot rival and forever challenge life in its attempts to flourish. That same taste painted on the back of my tongue when I awoke.

As a star elf, the memory was not an entirely pleasant one. I’ll gladly leave the swamplands to the wild elves. Give me an open field with an open sky. But there was comfort in seeing her dream rendered into reality. She had journeyed halfway around the world on little more than faith, and now that faith was justified.

“Let’s see if the totem at the center is equally real, shall we?” Her hand fell to stroke along the back of the ocelot crouched on the wide branch beside her. The feline’s fur was patterned with the black patchwork common to her kind, but her base color was entirely white.

A soft growl emanated from the feline’s throat. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed in an echo of Avalessa’s own suspicion. The hairs all along the cat’s two-foot-long body rose while her tail went unnaturally still like she was hunting.

“Would Oberon send us here if it was that bad?” Avalessa asked, though her voice remained at a whisper, not about to taunt potential danger by dismissing the cat’s instincts. Her lonely trek had given her the habit of speaking aloud to her animal friends, even if she could reach out to them with her thoughts.

She used that ability now, casting her mind out to her snowy owl, Sepha. The bird had ghosted into the grove of mangroves ahead of them to scout their destination more directly. She couldn’t have a human-style conversation with the owl, but she could get a sense for her emotional state, understand simple concepts and warnings, and even see through her eyes if she concentrated.

Avalessa had no need for that now. A sense of recognition thrummed down their link. The owl was seeing exactly what her dream had indicated she would find: a totem with a serpent’s head.

Another growl came from the ocelot.

“What, Vespa?” She brushed against the feline’s thoughts.

Not alone.

Her wariness rose. She searched the soupy mist and along the surface of the sluggish water for signs of others.

A shadow loomed out of the haze, forging through the swamp with determined strides. The creature was sunk up to mid-thigh in the mire, each step a trial even for the obviously powerful muscles in its legs. Soon, she was able to make out the pronounced muzzle and upswept ears of a hyena-like visage.

“A gnoll.” Her upper lip curled to reveal teeth, her soft words laced with enough disgust that Vespa marked it through their link and let out a hissing laugh of approving agreement. The wild cat obviously had no issue with pre-judging the hyinakin stranger in a poor light.

The gnoll was coming in at an oblique angle to her own hiding spot, and was in no danger of discovering her. It wasn’t long before she could determine it was a male, and a particularly tall and powerful one. They weren’t gangly as a species, but this one nearly matched the bulk and power normally found in orcan warriors. The pack slung over his back would likely be too much for Avalessa to even lift, but he carried it with callous ease. He clutched a spear in one hand. The weapon wasn’t on active guard, but it wouldn’t take much for him to spin it into an attack stance.

As she watched, he pried his way past a clump of brambles and dirt, forcing his way past the outer shield of trees and into the isolated island’s interior. A quick check with Sepha confirmed the gnoll had pushed all the way into the interior and was hovering around the totem.

Unwilling to let the loathsome gnoll keep her separated from her goal, Avalessa flowed out of her low stance and trotted down the branch. She skipped to another which sprang from one of the mangroves, remaining well above the slurry of fetid water beneath. If the gnoll had sank in up to his thighs, the rippling surface would probably lap against the bottom of her chin, given her slightly-more than five-foot stature. Then again, that so-called water looks so thick with goop, I might be able to walk across it.

She held on to that internal humor, knowing the positive emotions would help keep Vespa in check. The ocelot wasn’t an entirely rash creature, unlikely to leap upon a massive gnoll that would probably be able to kill her despite the feline’s formidable natural weapons. But there was no sense taking any chances. Avalessa needed to project the confidence down her links that she could handle the situation and wasn’t nervous.

That much was the truth. Will be a sad day for my people when a lone gnoll can cause an alert, fully armed elf’s heart to beat faster in fear. She crept further in until she was on a branch that hung into the central clearing. She remained back out of sight, waiting to see what the gnoll was doing.

He was pacing around the totem, inspecting it from every angle. He didn’t seem to be finding anything more than what she could discern from a distance. The totem was a single rod thick enough that her two hands couldn’t quite reach if she stretched them around. The shaft stood seven feet tall out from the ground, crowned by the enormous skull of an unknown reptile. None of the crawling vines had dared to grow up the totem, and both the wood and bone were free of the swamp’s grime.

Deciding to provoke a reaction, Avalessa edged along the branch, retaining the advantage of a firing point outside the gnoll’s reach. She supposed he had the strength to launch the spear at her, but she was equally confident that she could dodge it. That would only solidify her superiority.

Once settled, she called out in Yin-riss, the most common of the trade tongues used by the nations which bordered the inner sea known as Ocean Crossing. She could have tried Hu’na’laan, which she had mastered well enough before arriving on the northern nation’s shores, but this gnoll looked to be as much of an outsider as her. “Long way from the steppes and plains your kind call home. Didn’t think your ilk liked getting their fur wet.”

Spinning to face her, the gnoll’s maw pulled back into an ugly smile. “Don’t mind it at all, so long as it’s elf blood splashing on us.” Now the grip on his spear shifted into a warding guard, but he didn’t strike. His accent was thick and somewhat distorted when forming the words. But the creator of Yin-riss had tried to make it manageable for nearly all the races, though his efforts had fallen short of making it manageable for the insectoids or arachneids, since their mandibles could create little more than clicking and clacking.

“What cause have you to be here?” she demanded.

“Didn’t think there was a wild elf enclave which held sway in these parts.” The gnoll squinted up at her. “And even in this shitty light, I can see the sparkles in that dark hair of yours. In a gloomy grotto like this, I’ve got better claim than any star elf.”

“I don’t need to hold sway over these lands to cut you down,” Avalessa snapped back at him. “Either state your purpose or crawl back into the hole that spat you out.”

He let out a great snort. “Might be fun to see you try.” He gave a deliberate shake of his head, as if trying to shake off his own urge for violence. “But my vision told me there would be others.” He followed that with a wry grunt. “Just never figured on it being elves.” He risked taking his eyes off her for a quick search to the left and right. “Are there more of you?”

“Not more of her,” came a light, feminine voice from behind the gnoll.

Spooked, he lurched to the left, whipping his spear back and forth until he was against the far side of the clearing. That put him in a triangle formation rather than being caught directly between the newcomer and Avalessa.

But while she kept a wary eye on the gnoll, the star elf’s main focus shifted to the one peering out from the rugged underbrush that choked the edge of the small island. She passed a question down the links to her animal companions, but both were themselves startled, for neither had sensed this new presence.

The newcomer had a clear size advantage when it came to hiding. Avalessa would have called her human but for her three-and-a-half-foot height. That made her a half-folk. But in the same way the gnoll was a bit of a monster for his kind, this half-folk woman was far stockier across the shoulders, with a prominent bust even for a human woman. She had stripped off layers in the cloying swamp air, revealing arms wider than Avalessa’s own with muscles that could break her in half. She didn’t seem to be the sort who could sneak around easily, but Avalessa’s sharp ears couldn’t even pick up the sound of the smallfolk woman’s breathing.

“What trickery is this?” the gnoll gnashed at them, his spear tip still flickering back and forth.

“Nervous sort, ain’t ya?” The half-folk woman padded on silent feet out into the clearing, though she remained well away from both of the others. With a sigh, realizing that breaking the deadlock would be up to her, she grasped at a silver chain hanging around her neck. She pulled the end up past the neckline of her traveling leathers. “I’m Sylnie Eldereye, Cleric of Narrum, and I’ve come at his behest to petition the Oracle Surruln. Given the nasty swamp out there, I’m doubting either of you two merely wandered by. And since my vision mentioned others being involved… that would be you.”

Avalessa’s sharp eyes could make out the symbol on the chain: a silver ring with a humanoid figure stretched within so that its limbs touched the four quadrants of the circle. Nothing about the figure indicated if it was supposed to be a half-folk, human, or giant. As such, it could be any of the members of that racial triad, all beloved by their god.

Seizing on her key words, Avalessa asked, “Did you know who we would be?”

“Not you specifically,” the half-folk admitted. “I couldn’t see the faces of the others in the dreams Narrum sent me. But I could sense the shadows of others nearby when I was shown the totem.”

Wanting a clear understanding of what was transpiring, Avalessa replied with her own truth. “I had the same sense when given my Quest from Oberon.”

“As did I when speaking with the Huntmaster of Aufflasiss,” the gnoll cut in, still sounding ready to quarrel even as he cooperated.

Not to the Hyinakin God himself. That One is said to be ravenously insane. Shivering at the thought of a mad god watching over one’s people, Avalessa asked, “Who are you to receive such guidance?”

The gnoll sneered. “Kharr Dredmoor, a DreamEater of my kind. What pathetic sort of creature are you?”

“Avalessa of Vyrmorrallin,” she answered with default courtesy, taken briefly by surprise. She wouldn’t say she was intimidated, but DreamEaters were the Chosen of their mad god. It meant he was blessed on some level, and was likely far more dangerous than a typical gnoll. She couldn’t afford to treat him lightly.

“Never heard of you or that place,” Kharr snorted.

“I have,” Sylnie said. “The star elf enclave near Grayshoal, in Yaborea. Yes?”

Avalessa returned a simple nod.

“Yeah, thought so. I’ve a cousin who ventured that far a while back. She’s sort of the black sheep of the family, so I lost touch when she went south.” She shrugged that off. “But we aren’t here to talk about our wayward family, are we?”

“No,” Kharr growled. “The Oracle is also my purpose.” He gestured angrily at the totem. “To be found at this mark. Yet there is nothing to lead me further. No sign of which path to walk next.” Suspicion returned. “Unless one of you destroyed what I was to find.”

“I recall you arriving first,” Avalessa shot back, cutting off the insult she was tempted to add. I won’t descend to the pettiness of calling names. Not until he does first, anyway. Or maybe I’ll just have Sepha swoop down and scratch his eyes out.

“What proof do I have?” he barked back.

“There hass been no damage to the gathering mark.” What had seemed like a scraggly bush shuffled into motion. The branches broke apart and tumbled to the side, revealed for the expert camouflage they had been. A smallfolk snakeling emerged from the hiding spot, where he had lingered perfectly still until that moment.

Kharr bared his teeth, clenching at his spear more tightly. “Enough of these surprises! You risk me spitting you through the heart, puny thing!”

Sylnie appeared more to marvel at the achievement. “I’ve never seen anyone stay so still for so long.”

At her feet, Vespa emitted a low growl, clearly unhappy with failing to see another get so close without sensing them.

Avalessa ran a caress down the animal’s back. She couldn’t afford any mistakes, and the situation was becoming increasingly complicated. “Come, Vespa. Find your rest. You too, Sepha.” Even as she spoke, her mind reached out down the links between them, giving silent commands to both.

Being right at her side, the white ocelot immediately began to dissolve into white smoke filled with pearls of shimmering black. The smoke wafted under her clothes, forming into a tattoo that stretched along her left side, over her hip, and down her left thigh. On whisper-quiet wings, Sepha ghosted over to just above her head and faded into her own mist, which floated down to perch as her own tattoo on Avalessa’s right shoulder, with one wing stretching down her outer bicep. Both images, if visible, would be as realistic as a master’s painting, though she rarely showed them off.

By then, the snakeling had arrived to stand right beside the totem. He turned to consider all of them, then asked, “Is thiss all of you?” He said it in Hu’na’laan, then repeated it in Yin-riss.

“You were expecting more, for some reason?” Sylnie asked, selecting the former for her reply.

“True portentss besstowed by the godss bring sseekerss to uss at lasst light on each night of three new moonss.” The snakeling glanced upward at the drifting fog clinging to the swamp and blocking any view of the sky. “Twice invissible they are thiss evening, but the time is no lesss right for me to take you to the Oracle. Thosse who are here are here, be it two or two hundred. The Oracle will not deny the will of the godss who ssendss her their sservantss.”

“Only the three of us,” Sylnie confirmed for the serpent-kin. “Do we call you the Oracle’s herald?”

“That will do,” was his answer.

“And what if someone came here on another night?” Kharr asked with a mocking smirk. To Avalessa’s mild surprise, he wrapped his muzzle around the Hu’na’laan tongue passably well, suggesting he had come on his Quest with no less preparation. “What if another didn’t know the right time but just camped out and waited for others?”

The Herald met his jest with a sharp truth. “We would ssee them drowned in the sswamp for their liess.”

“Or at least you’d try,” the gnoll chuckled.

“Glad for all that we need not find out.”

Avalessa allowed a small grin to tug at the corners of her mouth. For some reason, she suspected the snakeling hadn’t made any empty threats. They were in the Oracle’s territory with no idea as to her nature nor the full extent of her power. Testing it blindly would not be wise.

Picking her landing spot, she dropped from her perch and landed with her typical elven grace. “We’re ready, Herald. I can only hope you’ve a less muck-filled path leading to the Oracle’s lair. Trudging through the water like a mule isn’t my idea of a pleasant evening.”

Kharr’s nostrils flared as she neatly sidestepped insulting him directly while implying enough for it to sting.

“Calling me a filthy animal? How do you know I didn’t come in that way?” Sylnie queried with a bob of humor, cutting off the potential for an argument by taking the implied insult on herself.

“If you did, then you have the magic and the good sense to use it to keep the filth off your skin,” Avalessa replied smoothly, sure that Kharr was smart enough had to read all sorts of hidden burrs in that comment as well.

This time, it was their serpentian guide who salvaged the situation by stepping into action. He approached the island’s underbrush again. “Fear not. The path sshall be made clear. A path you could not follow without me.” He led them out to the root-filled shore, then whistled sharply over the water.

The grinding sound of rock on rock rumbled from deep under the water. The whole island shook like an earthquake, a phenomenon Avalessa had only experienced precious few times since arriving in this northern land with its fire mountains always looming in the distance. The water in front of them began to churn and bubble. Soon, a rectangle of long walls hewn from the bedrock granite emerged. It was open at the end facing the island. The water between them drained away in a frothing rush. When it was gone, a set of slick stairs remained leading down below the swamp.

The snakeling snapped his clawed fingers and a tiny flame appeared above them. “Follow after me. Sstay closse, for the entry sshall not remain open for long.”

“Are you saying this is going to seal behind us?” Avalessa felt a chill pass over her heart at the thought of being buried under the muck.

“What’s the matter, elf? Scared of a little stone and darkness?” Kharr pointedly looked above her where the Fear tag was rolling off her head. He let out a snarky laugh and tromped his way down the stairs right behind the Herald.

“Gonna be alright?” Sylnie asked, brushing past her. “I’ve a magic that can take the edge off.”

“Unnecessary,” Avalessa answered a bit too quickly. She found herself wishing she hadn’t sent Vespa away so soon. Hugging the feline close might have been a consolation. Taking several long breaths, she reminded herself that it wouldn’t last forever. I’ll see the stars again. This is not a blind plunge into the deepest places of the world. We’ve a guide. Oberon has sent me here for a purpose. I will see the stars again, and soon.

With her mind settled, she pressed her knuckles together and checked her immediate statistics.

* Fear: Mild *

She could handle that. Remember, fear is just nature’s way of telling you to stay sharp. Wishing those reminders would stop her hands from shaking, she placed a foot on the first step leading down. She then managed the second, and the third came with the inevitability of a fall into a deep hole. No turning back now.

The stairs made no turns, and that made Avalessa happy for the darkness ahead of them. If they could see the full expanse of stairs they were descending, it might cause its own sort of vertigo. They reached the bottom and crossed through a stone arch solid enough that it seemed to be part of the world’s own formation.

As soon as they crossed the boundary into the tunnel beyond, the rumbling returned. This time, the sound was near-deafening as the stairs sank deeper into the ground. A roar followed as the swamp water from above crashed down into the void that had been created. Within seconds, the path back to the surface was entirely blocked.

“Do not keep the Oracle waiting,” the Herald admonished them, already heading down a squared-off tunnel that was definitely made by intelligent hands. Within fifty paces, they reached a four-way junction. The snakeling continued straight. At the second, he turned left. They turned two more corners before another choice was offered. There he pushed open a stone barrier concealing a hidden set of stairs leading down. The second level proved no less convoluted in its construction. Nor was the third.

By the fourth descent, Avalessa knew she was lost, a victim of the tortuous maze. She began to wonder if they were, indeed, tunneling to the core of the world. The temptation to stop the Herald and demand an accounting of their location became stronger with each passing minute.

But she didn’t. It wasn’t for the sake of embarrassment. Even the bragging Kharr had ceased striding down the corridors with confidence and was now glancing at each shadow as if trying to determine if the Herald was leading them in circles. Rather, Avalessa held her tongue because she knew they were being watched. Down every side corridor, hints of movement and the small scratching of claws on stone could be heard. While the Herald had held perfectly still, his kind were somewhat less stealthy in motion. Certainly not the match of Sylnie and her half-folk kin. Avalessa had the impression there were scores or even hundreds of other snakelings prowling the corridors around them. If the group harmed the Herald, the trio would be swarmed in seconds.

And so, she could do nothing but channel her fear into paying attention to her surroundings. I’m not going to be surprised down here. I’m not going to be snuffed out like a candle never knowing what killed me. The rocks crowded in closer, and her breathing grew shallower as the Herald led them down yet another set of stairs and into the fifth level.

Another archway appeared. When they stepped through, the walls split away from them. A huge expanse of darkness stretched before them, but Avalessa felt the opposite of fear. Though it lacked stars, she could imagine herself peering up at the endless night sky, thrilled to no longer feel the looming rock above her head pushing in on all sides. She wished the Herald would extinguish the magical flame still burning above his thumb, for a star elf like her could see quite well in the dark. The flame was serving to block her vision beyond the sphere of light it shed.

Instead of granting her wish, the Herald kept them moving forward. They walked out onto a long ramp rising off the cavern floor. It wasn’t incredibly narrow, but Avalessa felt her elven balance engage to keep her footing sure. Neither Sylnie nor Kharr looked comfortable as they traversed upward until the stone floor was lost below them, far beyond the range of the Herald’s fire. They reached the summit, where the skinny path widened to a platform where ten people could easily stand.

Once they all took their places there, their snakeling guide announced in a grand voice, “Behold, the Oracle Ssurruln.” He flung the hand with the flame into the air. The fire transformed into a blizzard of glittering sparks that scattered up and attached to the cavern ceiling far above.

They shed precious little light, but it was enough to glitter off the lustrous scales of a massive, sinuous shape filling the cavern in front of them. Avalessa’s eyes widened in unabashed awe. Slowly undulating coils shifted in continuous motion, catching the fake starlight and giving her a sense of scale. The scales encrusted a serpentine body thicker than two Kharrs stacked end to end. The coils looped back on each other too often for her to properly guess at a length, but she was sure the Oracle was two if not three hundred feet long.

A naga. Her mind named what she was seeing for all the good it would do her. The immense power of the great beings within the racial triads could be staggering. She had met two titans during her life, the giant cousins to the elves and faeries. They had been glorious in their own way, filled with elemental magic and steeped in knowledge of the natural world. But even those wonder-filled encounters couldn’t prepare her for the sheer immensity of the being before her.

From out of the shadows, a shimmering, black face appeared, catching the light as if carved from obsidian. Avalessa would never mistake it for human, but neither was it fully as serpent-like as that of the snakeling before her. She had a vague impression of other movement in the darkness; the naga’s arms swaying as she gestured with her words. When those words came, they resonated from deep within the Oracle’s body, pitched with a distinctly female timbre and yet rich and deep in a way no lesser being could hope to achieve.

“I know why you’ve come. Three parts of a single whole. You have come in isolation, yet you will leave united in purpose.” The naga’s speech patterns didn’t carry the same sibilant distortion of other serpentians. It reverberated off the cavern walls, crushing down on the trio of penitents with what Avalessa swore was tangible force on her skin.

“Are you saying our gods led us here on the same night with the same Quest?” Kharr blurted out in a voice shrouded in doubt.

“Not the same,” Avalessa hissed at him, angered by his lack of respect. “Did you not listen? Three Quests interwoven until they cannot be untangled.”

Despite her earlier efforts at soothing their argument, Sylnie objected as well. “This is not a matter that the servants of other gods should meddle with. It is Narrum’s will to undo this transgression carried out by the hand of one of his people. I am His instrument!”

“It is Oberon’s place to act as shepherd to the fae,” Avalessa countered. “The border between reality and the wild realm is often disturbed, but rarely has it been shaken like this. I’ve come to restore that balance. I cannot turn away from my purpose any more than you could yours.”

“Both of you quibble about minor ripples in this world,” Kharr mocked them. “Such trivial things. The cost to my people is far steeper. Nothing shall divert me from the path I walk. The souls of my kin will be forfeit if I fail.”

“You deny the wisdom your own gods have bestowed on you,” the naga spoke again, scattering their quarrel under the weight of her words. “Remember the visions they have given you.”

As the Oracle spoke her words, swirls of dream-shrouded memory stole through Avalessa’s mind. Strangers were meant to be there with her. They walked the same path. She struggled to comprehend what she was seeing. To sense more about those others. It was so difficult, but a truth loomed with undeniable power. Those strangers were necessary somehow. They were part of Oberon’s will. And…

She concentrated harder, realizing something else. There… there are four of us. There’s meant to be another?

The Oracle went on. “I tell you now. Unless you walk this path together, the Divine will of your masters will be undone.”

Avalessa clenched her teeth. The very thought of sharing the road with the gnoll DreamEater scratched at her soul, making her forget her courtesy. “Is this all the wisdom we have come to hear?”

“No. That truth you may have realized for yourselves in time.” The naga’s looming face wove a pattern in the air as her coiled body shifted beneath. “But there is another who is key to your success. The Daughter of a lord in these lands. You have come for my aid because you could no reach her without me.”

“Where can we find her?” Sylnie asked.

“Within the Sanctuary of the Lost Monolith.”

Avalessa let out a sharp laugh. “You might as well say she was dropped into one of the fire mountains.”

“Not so, Scion of Vyrmorrallin. Knowledge lost is not the same as the way being forever closed.”

“How can we find it, then?”

“There dwells within the Sanctuary a clan of zaskran monks. They were driven from their lands by a human lord in the far north. In doing so, he took from them many of their treasures. The greatest of which is known as the Eye of Zifyiveth. Seek it out, then bring it to me. It shall be my tribute. If you do, then I shall bestow on you the location of the Sanctuary’s last remaining entrance and a token that will keep you alive long enough to demand an audience with the one you seek.”

“And who is it?” Avalessa pressed. “What is the name of this noble’s offspring who will show us the way?”

“She is Yokïmi Kikuchi, sister to the monster you have come to kill.”

Chapter 13

Yokïmi tried to maintain her calm as she finished weaving the rune patterns in the air necessary for casting her Razor Beam spell. There was a conspicuous absence of any sort of iron in the chamber, ensuring she didn’t accidentally call upon that material to power her spell.

Which meant pain was coming. She flinched as she called out, “Incroive zi akai – vir.” A small hitch in her voice wasn’t enough to stop the magic from activating. She’d cast the spell too often. The pattern was so familiar. She kept the small errors within the margins to still achieve success.

But then it was time for the unfamiliar part. As the final elements of the spell came into line, the magic demanded an energy source to bring it all to life. Normally, this was the point where she would build the bridge to the material components, open the path, and then use her physical Tolerance to keep the path wedged open long enough for the spell to exhaust itself. Instead, she turned the spell’s hunger on herself.

Sizzling pain lanced through her, crawling under her skin and burning along her bones like she’d grabbed hold of a small bolt of lightning. Her concentration evaporated and her fists clenched. She sucked her arms in against her sides and let out a seething hiss as she fought to dispel the magic before it carved into her any deeper. Her vision whited out with the pain, then slowly cleared as the magic ceased its demands.

“Ai ya! It’s like willfully cutting myself with a knife. Only it hurts a hundred times more!” she cursed aloud.

Not far off, Yeztinass folded his arms, tucking his hands into the wide openings of his crimson robe’s sleeves so that only his serpent-like snout could be seen. “The pain will never fully vanissh. But it sseemss worse than it iss. The nature of thiss pain is wholly different from anything you have experienced before. Your body iss ressponding more intenssely to warn you. Thiss iss a natural reaction. But it iss one you musst ssuppresss.”

“Easier said than done.” Yokïmi grimaced, shaking her arms as she paced back and forth to bleed off the nervous energy clinging to her crystalline form. “It’s worse that I know it is coming. It’s like trying to leave your arm on a chopping block even when you can see the sword falling to hack it off.”

“Conssider that metaphor,” replied the ChiKiln master. His tone remained smooth and unhurried. In all the months she had learned from him, the zaskran had never slipped from that innate sense of calm.

She did consider it, even as she considered him for the thousandth time. Unlike Taliskhan, she’d never developed any sort of personal rapport with the ChiKiln. While her Bellatir master wasn’t an open book, Yeztinass was definitively a closed one. She’d never seen him without his robes. Didn’t even know the truth of his physical nature, beyond knowing his height was around three quarters of the way between five and six feet. Under those deep-red robes, he might be emaciated or he might be as muscled as an advanced Pugilist.

He was a riddle, as unsolved as his reasons for agreeing to instruct Yokïmi in the ChiKiln ways. Her best guess was that Taliskhan had made it a personal request when she had demonstrated an interest and revealed her already established magical aptitude. But she wasn’t sure that was the real answer. She honestly believed Yeztinass reveled in bringing potential to life. While the zaskran ChiKiln might have begun the process at Taliskhan’s behest, she had the impression that he had only invested real effort once he had proof that Yokïmi’s request hadn’t been a mere fancy.

“I don’t understand,” she finally admitted. “I thought the comparison appropriate enough.”

“Except that a falling ssword bringss with it a known sstyle of pain. Perhapss more ssevere than you have ever felt, but you know what it iss to be cut.”

“You’ve warned me I can die if I overextend myself. How is that different from bleeding out through a cut?” Yokïmi reminded him.

“Thiss wass a truth.” Yeztinass remained stoic, reinforcing the idea without drama or passion. Merely as a fact. “But thiss magical harm you causse yourself is unique. You are ripping at the inner piecess of yourself. Weakening the bondss that sstop the individual parts of your body from melting into mussh insside your chesst.”

Yokïmi struggled to comprehend the alien concepts the master was presenting. Inner pieces of myself? My organs dissolving? It’s like macabre poetry that doesn’t mean anything. “Sounds worse than a sword strike.”

“If you are carelesss, it can be. If you sstrain the ssysstem that is your body too far, your death will be sswift. But if you find resst before going too far, recovery will come fasster than an ugly wound. Usse that knowledge to combat the fear.”

“Ten times the pain. A tenth the time to heal it after?”

“That iss the ssensse of it. Until you become accusstomed to it.”

“I’m not sure that helps or makes the idea all the worse.” Yokïmi took a steadying breath and drew focus on the wooden target across the chamber. It was reinforced with the master’s own magic and would be able to absorb the violent magic she was trying to conjure.  “Again.”

Yeztinass fell silent, granting her the time and space she needed.

Hope I haven’t already expended too much of my Tolerance. Even a failed spell costs some, and we’ve been at this for hours. Passing out won’t make this go any better. Compacting that worry into the same ball as her fear of pain, she buried both inside and tried to shut it out long enough to perform the magic.

Cycling a few more deep breaths, Yokïmi assumed the right mindset for connecting to the magical possibility hidden behind the tangible world. She had learned to do it rapidly, as she had done in the battle with the troll. But she went through the process more deliberately here, reinforcing her concentration so it would not be so easily shaken.

Once ready, her hands flowed into the rune crafting. Streaks of glittering pink light trailed her fingertips as the symbols she created prepared the way to convert her life energy into magical effect.

Every time a stray worry threatened to corrupt her efforts, she crushed it ruthlessly. The pain is momentary. It will come and it will go. If I can’t suffer this, how will I ever pass the tests that my upcoming Quests will bring?

This time her power words snapped crisply off her lips with her full confidence behind them. “Incroive zi akaivir!”

Pain surged into her. But rather than flinch away, she leaned into the way it scorched her inside. Instead of envisioning it tearing her apart, she summoned the mental image of her body acting as a lens, taking diluted sunlight and sharpening it into a ray of blinding heat. She was the instrument, and the result would be magic.

“Ahhhh!” The scream ripped out of her as the pain became her whole world. Her palm shot out and a sizzling ray of intense pink energy slashed into the wooden target. She held it as long as she could, leaving a deep gouge across a wide swath on the target’s surface.

The Razor Beam faded and she collapsed to her knees. Sucking in air, she couldn’t look away, a new fear rising that if she so much as blinked, the mark she had cut into the target would vanish and her victory would evaporate like a dispersed illusion.

“Call to your orb. Make it real for yoursself.” The command came not from Yeztinass, but from Taliskhan. He cast a shadow as he stood at the entrance from the Nest’s outer courtyard. When he had arrived and how much he had seen was a hazy uncertainty for her.

But after so many months under his tutelage, her only possible reaction to his command was obedience. She brought her status orb from where it hovered near the ceiling, briefly imagining it orbiting in unity with the invisible ones belonging to her two masters. Her next thought cleared a path through her orb’s gentle pink mist. Her status coalesced. The list of latest changes shone brightest as she focused on it.

* New Impactful Moment: Conjured Magic from the Body’s Furnace *

* New Advanced Level unlocked – levels in ChiKiln now available *

The detailed entry told her she’d received a couple other benefits along with the level access she had desired.

Impactful Moment: Conjured Magic from the Body’s Furnace:

-  Advanced Level (ChiKiln) is unlocked.

-  +1 Physical (Persistence)

-  +2 Resilience (Tolerance)

-  +5 Physical Damage Points

She eagerly hunted down to her level assignments and gasped in wonder to see the new entry lit up with a green [+] marker beside it. She tapped the symbol and soaked in the pattern of changes that followed.

* ChiKiln level up! *

* Resilience (Tolerance) +1 *

* Physical Damage Points +10 *

* Mental Damage Points +1*

* Emotional Damage Points +1 *

* Soul Damage Points +1 *

* New Technique Unlocked – Burn PDP for Magical Energy now Level 1 *

Aware she was under the gaze of her masters and taking their time as well as her own, Yokïmi needed to know the restrictions she was under. Her Tolerance had been the limiting factor for all her magic. Now she might have another depending on how much PDP each spell would cost her. She tapped open the Technique details.

Technique: Burn PDP for Magical Energy: Level 1

-  This is the fundamental process that enables a practitioner to burn Physical Damage Points instead of material components to produce magical energy. Unlike the physical pain endured during a failed spell, this process can be controlled, improved, and streamlined.

-  PDP can only be used to power spells in the physical domain. Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based magic utilize other Techniques that must be mastered separately.

-  Trivial spells are commonly powered by ambient material components. However, they can draw upon PDP if the ChiKiln requires, such as in a sterile environment.

-  Current channeling costs:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap 1 PDP.

• Low difficulty spells sap 25 PDP.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap 50 PDP.

• High difficulty spells sap 100 PDP.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap 300 PDP.

• Superior difficulty spells sap 600 PDP.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap 1200 PDP.

• Epic difficulty spells sap 6000 PDP.

• Divine difficulty spells sap 12000 PDP.

-  Current magically-burned PDP refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 15 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 30 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 45 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 75 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 120 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 150 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Technique reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

Yokïmi let out a long sigh. Given the numbers involved, she believed her Tolerance remained her limiting factor. But that wouldn’t always be the case if she honed her Talent and lowered the Tolerance costs for her magic. Not only that, but her Tolerance refresh rates were faster. She would end up wearing her PDP down if forced into a series of conflicts without enough time to bring both point pools back to maximum.

Deciding that lingering any longer would be rude, she sent her orb away and focused on the chamber around her again. “It’s there. I’ve gained a ChiKiln level.”

“A worthy reward after all your effortss,” Yeztinass intoned. “I have not imparted all the teachingss I have upon you, but thiss iss a decent sstart. Whoever it wass that trained you in your initial magical abilitiess wass rather uncommon. You have built a sstrong foundation. Thiss has helped.”

“He wanted me to be a Wizard,” Yokïmi said with a sad smile, not yet sure Katashi would totally forgive her for her choices that kept her at armlength from him at every turn. He’s trying to replace my father as well as my mentor. But that isn’t what I need. “But that would only have trapped me where I was.”

“You have blended the teachingss of the variouss masterss who have taught you. Even thiss Jun-Kaeno you have mentioned.”

“My harp tutor?”

“Ass you have disscovered, there iss a rhythm to magic. Not unlike the weaving of a melody. It iss language all itss own, like the notess of mussic. Learning music’ss language hass aided you here.”

“I wish I knew what became of her,” Yokïmi said, allowing the dark memories of that day to creep in.

“You do not think sshe perisshed with your family?”

“She was not always at the castle. She was a free spirit who refused to be indentured to any one lord.” Yokïmi tapped three points in the air as if marking spots on an invisible map. “She taught three different noble families from what I knew, and maybe more. And she taught both commoners and nobles. All she ever wanted was to find those with talent she could groom. We were expecting her return any day when my brother struck us down. It’s possible she had already arrived.”

Never one to offer guesses, the ChiKiln master veered back to the reason he had brought up the subject. “While you have sseveral Talentss, I would ssay you have a gift for weaving together a tapesstry from many threadss.”

“Or composing a ssymphony that blendss an array of insstrumentss. For that, you musst be able to hear them all playing in your mind to capture the magic of how each sshould interweave with the otherss.” Taliskhan finally spoke again, allowing a small hint that he was somewhat impressed to show past his stolid mask.

Yokïmi turned her head to meet his gaze. “Is that why you let me come here?”

“It iss true. I was wary of ssplitting your insstruction sso early in your training. There wass a rissk that it would sserve ass a disstraction and sslow your progresss.”

“Perhaps you were right. I’ve yet to earn another Bellatir level.”

“Though Haruto did well in matching my Ekansshin sstyle, sshe never gained masstery of any ChiKiln-built Techniquess. Sshe wass grounded in thiss world. Magic wass not a part of her.” He said it without judgment, merely a statement of fact. “While I did not inssisst that you commence your training anew, there have been adjusstmentss to make. Thiss takess time. Have patience. You have done well to blend the teachingss of different masterss.”

“Was I not to return to the dojo at first light tomorrow?” Yokïmi asked, wondering why he had come to the Nest in the first place. Having learned the hierarchy within the valley, she knew Taliskhan was the most respected of the Elders. However, Yeztinass and Ishayel, the highest of the Zifyiveth Clerics, were treated as his peers. None of them tread lightly on each other’s domains, though neither the Temple nor the Nest were considered off-limits in the same way as the Taliskhan’s Retreat.

“Outssiderss have come to the outer valley and camped by the Monolith.”

“Are they to be diverted of killed?” she asked, seeing no other options according to their rules. She purposefully mentioned them in that order, secretly wishing for the former even as she suspected the latter since the strangers had come close enough to see the Gateway. If they described it to others upon returning to the outside world, that might be what led the faceless enemy back to destroy it. And as she had come to know very clearly, the zaskran of the Sanctuary feared nothing more.

“Neither. They have assked for you.”

A chill passed down her spine. “Nobles of Hu’na’la?” Are they coming to bring the Daughter of Kikuchi back to her duties? The Kazoku caste are all hungry for power. Why would they not have left me alone and taken my family’s holdings for themselves?

Taliskhan banished her fears. “They are not only sstrangerss to the Ssanctuary but to Hu’na’la itsself. They sspeak the language but the accentss of travelerss cling to their tonguess.”

“What manner of people are they?”

“An elf, a half-folk, and a gnoll acting in cooperation if not harmony.”

Feeling strong enough again, Yokïmi rose to her feet. “And they asked for me?”

“By name. They ssaid you were the key to their Quest.”

“Not as its target, I’d hope.”

“It wass Berisss who went to meet them. He ssaid they believed you could be a guide.”

“A guide?” That confused her. Other than the Kikuchi lands, she hadn’t wandered very far in the world. She hadn’t even seen all of Hu’na’la itself. The one place she was qualified to be a guide had crumbled into ruin. “How is it they were given the chance to ask for this?” They would have left her and Parrun stumbling around lost in the hills forever had they not saved Beriss’s life. It seemed strange for the zaskran masters to even contemplate hearing this group’s request.

“They’ve a token fasshioned by a naga Oracle, one of the few beingss who knowss where the Ssanctuary liess. Sshe would not have gifted it to them lightly.” Taliskhan put added weight on the last statement.

Yokïmi smiled, understanding his command without needing to have it spelled out for her. “Then it would be best if I went to hear them out.” She looked to Yeztinass. “May I take my leave of you, Master?”

“You’ve taken an important sstep already thiss day. Until next we meet, remember the lesssons. Let not the pain be your next masster. It iss your life energy. Your chi. It iss at your command and you sshould not fear itss flow.”

She bowed deeply, needing no reminder to show him proper respect. “Every new step I take on this path is because of you. I will not forget.” She stepped to the archway and fell into step with Taliskhan as he set off down the steep trail leading into the valley.

There was nothing so well crafted as rocky steps along the way. At some parts, they followed what Yokïmi would call a rambling goat trail. Other times, they were forced to pick their way down a slope so steep that it was practically a cliff. She tried to replicate the effortless way her zaskran master bounded from one ledge to the next. She activated her Phantom Body Sheath as he pushed her to greater leaps and deeper drops. She didn’t have to ask if he was using this as a chance for additional training. That was precisely what he was doing, never letting her rest on her prior accomplishments.

Soon they were trotting down the final slope and onto the rice steppes. They passed by dozens of zaskran farmers working the half-swamped fields. Yokïmi wondered not for the first time if this was the largest zaskran population anywhere. From the little she knew, they tended to occupy smaller monasteries, never growing large enough to become threats to the more common races of the world.

Taliskhan didn’t lead her to the bottom of the valley, instead skirting along a ridgeline that carried far enough to where they could begin a new climb up to the Monolith. Halfway along, Yokïmi caught sight of something that made her pause. She drifted to the edge of the drop to the next steppe and squinted her eyes against the sunslight.

Whatever the zaskran inhabitants of the Sanctuary did to make their hidden civilization survive, the center of their lives was always the Ekanshin art. She would find it hard to believe that any one of them, no matter how inept, wouldn’t possess at least one level in Bellatir. It was a normal sight to see one of the lesser masters visit the workers in the fields and lead them through an informal practice session. One such event was happening not far from their vantage point.

What captured Yokïmi’s attention wasn’t the gathering so much as the one lurking in the grass nearby.

Parrun wasn’t doing much to hide. He knew this game. If he ventured too close, the zaskran master would halt the lesson and chase him off. If he made too much of a visible show of being present and watching what they were doing, the same would happen. In either event, a complaint would be given to the Sanctuary Elders and Parrun would risk being expelled from the valley. And so, he kept mostly out of sight, and didn’t impinge on the peace of the practice session. But he was clearly enraptured by the proceedings.

Yokïmi sank to one knee, propped an elbow on her other leg, and watched with a soft sigh. “He looks so eager to be involved.” Her heart went out to the smallfolk predoran as he peeked out from behind a hillock, absorbed a couple of movements, then tried to replicate them in his hidden spot.

“Loyal he may be. But thiss iss not hiss path.”

“You know he’s not my servant.”

“From the moment I ssaw him, I knew. That he dared lie to me to sstay by your sside told me much about both of you.” Taliskhan remained behind her, watching the same scene from over her shoulder.

“Why won’t you let the others teach him?” Yokïmi ensured it didn’t come across as an accusation.

“I’ve isssued no ssuch commandss,” the zaskran said plainly. “But all the lessser massterss within the Ssanctuary have sstudied at my feet. They have learned to recognize the ssame ssignss. If you were not sso loyal to your friend, you’d ssee it jusst as clearly.”

As he finished saying it, Parrun’s ears perked and his head swiveled to face a groundhog that had poked its head up. Letting out a fierce grin, he darted after the small creature, chasing it back into its hole.

Yokïmi let out a deep sigh, nearly a groan as her friend proved the point the master was trying to make. “My Farrum hinted at much the same thing.”

“He iss a predoran. They can be a terrible force in battle. But the Ekansshin art requiress calm even under duresss. At higher levelss of masstery, one can kill with a ssingle touch, yet ssuch knowledge can bring heartache in the handss of one with a sscattered mind.”

“But you’ll let him stay?”

“That iss not the quesstion that musst be ansswered.”

I knew he was going to say that. “I need to decide if I’ll make him stay.”

“He iss indeed loyal. Be careful how long you keep him by your sside for the ssake of having a friend. There iss a path for him in this world. But he will not find it here.” He took a step away. “Come. We have other matterss to which we musst attend. Leave him to hiss dreamss for now.”

She pondered that a few seconds longer, then admitted she wasn’t going to solve it in the moment. It was selfish. She knew it. But as fulfilling as it was to learn at the feet of these zaskran masters, it was Parrun who shared the fire with her each night. Who talked and laughed and helped keep her sane. He was as much her brother as Suta had been, and the idea of sending him away was a loss she wasn’t ready to face quite yet.

Finally, she rose and trailed after Taliskhan. First things first.

Yokïmi tried to attune her perspective to being a true inhabitant of the Sanctuary. For her, this was a matter of curiosity. Who were these visitors and why would an Oracle… especially a naga… have sent them to her? But for Taliskhan and his people, the outsiders were dangerous. He was letting nothing show, but the Ekanshin master was not meeting these people as an envoy. He’s meeting them as a judge, like he did with me. Potentially as an executioner. Does this group know that? I almost feel like I should be delivering a warning. Then again, that might push them into twisting the truth of why they are here.

They reached the gateway and found Beriss waiting for them.

“Where are they?” Taliskhan demanded.

“Jusst beyond.”

“They’ve sseen you passs through?”

Beriss returned a grave nod.

Taliskhan grew his version of a scowl. Barely noticeable. More a tightening of his serpentine features. It was not a good sign for the outsiders. Yokïmi knew he’d resolved to either grant them their wishes or kill them.

“I’ll lead,” Yokïmi felt compelled to say. “They are here for me, after all. If they are focused on me, then you’ll be free to consider what they are saying.” I might be able to approach this with a modicum of diplomacy and give these people a better chance at survival.

The zaskran pondered that. His remorseless, impenetrable visage making it seem like he was weighing the souls of these people to determine if they were worthy of Yokïmi’s kindness.

“Very well,” he agreed, then stood aside for her to step through the gateway ahead of him.

Hearing the master make his decision, Beriss didn’t hesitate. He activated the Monolith’s magic, revealing the alternate location of the outer valley. Late evening had already settled upon Hu’na’la. The visitors had struck torches and planted them on a series of three poles to create a meeting point.

Yokïmi walked through the great stone arch, trying not to look nervous by immediately hunting for threats. She restrained herself to a calm, interested sweep with her eyes, taking in the details of the trio who had come searching for her.

None of them were familiar, which was no great surprise. None of the other races were common in the region. The genocidal efforts of Shishaku Iyanno were the worst example of the prejudice that lingered in the region, but only the coastal ports like Atsumae were truly welcoming to non-humanoids. Half-folk populated a few villages in the interior. Narrum’s laws were clear that they were also a humanoid race deserving of full respect. However, the fact that only one of their families had earned a place in the Kazoku caste and only a handful others were Shizoku Caste Samurais or landowners told the tale about the lack of acceptance they still endured.

The gnoll summoned attention to himself next. He probably would have been the first one she noticed with his impressive frame, leather-hide clothing, and fierce aspect. But the hyinakin brayed a laugh dripping with crude, sexual suggestion. “What is this? We came seeking a noble-human guide, and they present us with a magically conjured whore?” A slather-dripping tongue swiped along his teeth. “Though she’s fine enough to eat, isn’t she?”

“Take that minnow out of your pants and I’ll cut it off and fillet it so they can serve it to their dogs,” hissed the elf beside him.

“A minnow among my kind would make an elf woman squeal. Aren’t you tired of the toothpicks your males possess?” The gnoll let out another bark, not seeming to mind at all that he was the only one that found his jokes hilarious.

Rather than retort, the elf woman spared him a withering glare, then ignored him entirely in favor of Yokïmi. Both of them took time to get a full appreciation of the other. The elf’s lingering gaze suggested that she was struck by what she saw, impressed on several levels.

Yokïmi was used to that mild surprise from others. She’d seen it before arriving at the Sanctuary whenever she outperformed others who dismissed her as a mere noble dilettante. Then, on the face of every zaskran she had bested in a sparring session here at the Sanctuary. They had begun by underestimating her. After, they had grudgingly accepted there were hidden depths to the crystalline woman. Yokïmi was pleased that this elf was astute enough to notice and accept her hidden competence without needing to be tossed about a sparring ring.

For Yokïmi, the elf made an equally impactful first impression. Her long, silken-black hair with its starlight sparks dancing within and piercing ice-blue eyes declared her to be a star-elf. The immediate power of her Aura washed over Yokïmi, making her wonder if the elf was a noble of some kind, used to commanding others and having her wishes fulfilled.

And yet the elf’s simple attire belied that idea. She wore little more than a thin, cotton shift covering her from neck to mid-thigh. Her body was criss-crossed with leather sashes and belts which held the items she needed to survive in the wilderness. A quartet of circlets made of sharpened metal hung from her hips and shoulders. Each was emblazoned with swirling runes imbuing them with some unknown magic. Sneaking out past her clothing’s hems, Yokïmi noted hints of bright color suggesting tattoos of intricate yet hidden design. Otherwise, she wore only two leather bracers on her forearms and a simple white-leather collar with a tiny diamond in front of her throat.

The elf blended an uncomplicated, raw forthrightness with a trained elegance that suggested a certain level of culture despite her current, rougher attire. Yokïmi found her… unsettlingly appealing. Swallowing hard, Yokïmi shifted back to the half-folk woman.

She was met by a brightly-smiling face with a cheer that wouldn’t fade. The symbol of Narrum was hanging from the smallfolk woman’s pendant necklace, purposefully positioned to signify how central it was to her being. Everything else about her revolved around that truth. The tiara in her brown hair carried the distinctive amethyst eye symbol often used as a secondary referent to the Humanoid God. Her brown hair was swept back over her ears and left to tumble down her shoulders in a distinctly non-distinct way, as if the length, color, and style were all chosen to be as representative of the average among humanoid females. She was set apart only by her unusual bulky frame, an oddity among her thin-boned people.

Her smile was anything but average. She summoned its full power and beamed it at Yokïmi. “You are not what any of us expected.”

“It has been an interesting year. Not an easy one.” Yokïmi did her best to guard against the spiral of pain, sadness, and anger that her memories could conjure, since all of them would be written plainly on her face.

“But you are Yokïmi Kikuchi?” the half-folk woman pressed.

“It’s my name. But the person you likely seek has become a different woman. One who may not be able to help with what you seek.”

“Considering we were guided to you less than a year ago, after the changes you are hinting at began, perhaps you’ve become the woman we need,” the elf said.

“Not sure if I need you, but I damned well want you,” the gnoll chortled as he raked his eyes up and down her naked form.

“Choke off those base impulses of yours long enough to have a pleasant conversation, hmm?” Even as the gnoll shot her a nasty sneer, the half-folk woman gestured in helpless apology. “We can’t always choose our voyaging companions, I’m afraid. He’s kept me alive a few times, but I haven’t rubbed off any civility onto him despite my best efforts.”

“Who are you?” Yokïmi demanded, not forgiving the rudeness so easily. Only her lingering curiosity was stopping her from giving Taliskhan the single nod that would unleash him on the outsiders. He was a being that prized decorum and respect, perhaps more than even the stuffiest Hu’na’laan native. She had little doubt he was on the edge of acting independently, held in check only by her patient willingness to hear their purpose.

“Sylnie Eldereye, Cleric of Narrum. The ill-mannered one there is Kharr Dredmoor. Our star-elf friend is Avalessa of Vyrmorrallin. We each started on our individual paths to answer the call of our gods. But that purpose has merged. Now, it seems destined to include you.”

“Not until I’ve heard a single reason to accept that call.” Yokïmi wanted to fold her arms to cover herself from the gnoll’s leers. With her emotions laid bare, he would undoubtedly know he had already unnerved her. She wouldn’t give the lecherous fool further satisfaction by scrambling to hide.

“A tragedy occurred of which you were a part. But you must understand that the wrongness of that day didn’t end. It continues to ripple forward. Other tragedies loom, and the task has fallen to us to prevent them from happening.”

Anger surged inside Yokïmi, breaking through her control. “Of course, those events ripple forward. Hundreds of families died when that castle collapsed. Ai ya! Thinking you can stop all the changes that are coming is like believing you can stop up a river without causing a flood.”

Avalessa cut in. “We’re not talking about the grief people are going to suffer. Nor the realignment of Hu’na’laan lordships and titles. We’re speaking of the harm your brother’s yet to cause. Damage we need to prevent.”

“My brother is dead!” Yokïmi crackled back at her.

“No. He isn’t.” The sternness melted from the elf’s voice, replaced by what sounded like compassion. “We… didn’t know you were unaware.”

Shock seized hold of her as she realized how blind she had been. Why was I so sure? Yokïmi demanded of herself. I was trapped beneath the rubble. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t know. But if he was alive… “Quiet. It was quiet when I awoke. He was… changed. Insane. Drunk on a magic unlike anything I’ve ever heard existing. If he were alive, how could I not have heard him?”

“What he conjured was Wish Magic.” Avalessa shook her head. “Whatever you have heard in legend, it is far more volatile and far more dangerous.”

“He didn’t just play with fire. He dove into the path of a firestorm and tried not to burn up in it.” Kharr gave an ugly smile. “Seems he didn’t do well.”

With what seemed like long practice, Sylnie stepped between the gnoll and the one he was angering. “As you say, he was corrupted. But the Wish Magic would have faded. We can’t know the final form he will have taken. But we know he’s become a monster. An abomination twisted by unbridled fae magic. That’s what Narrum has sent me to do. He’s human even though he isn’t. Further and further, he’s going to range outward. Gaining in power. Killing. How many will fall to his savageness? As you said, he is beyond all definitions of insanity and rage. Pure hate.”

“The emotion that defined him at the end,” Yokïmi whispered, hanging her head.

“Yes.”

Struggling to cope with the revelation, she looked to Avalessa. Her eyes went so easily to the elf woman, following an urge she wasn’t quite ready to address. “And you want the same?”

“But for differing reasons,” Avalessa replied. “Oberon is the Fae-kin God. But he is also the overseer of the boundary between this mortal world and the realm of the fae. Your brother’s misuse of Wish Magic has torn that boundary. The initial faelapse he caused lasted for days. It disturbed and disrupted and distorted nearly everything within two day’s walk of your family’s castle. While the initial changes were the most intense, faelapses in the area continue to occur with disturbing regularity. Not only that, but the affected area continues to grow. Even Oberon does not know how far it may spread. Given time, it could potentially twist the entire world into a fae-haunted nightmare.”

“We can stop it?” Yokïmi demanded.

“By destroying the source. The monster your brother has become is wedging the door open. Ending him will close it forever. Whatever abominations have already been created will remain. It will be the work of some Druid’s lifetime to see the natural order restored to that place. But at least there will be no new horrors.”

By all the gods, Akuje. Haven’t you caused enough pain? Are you going to drag me back in to suffer even more at your hands? Clenching her teeth, she glared at the gnoll. “What of you? Why are you here, other than as a burden to me?”

For the first time, the gnoll’s lust was offset by a trace of irritation. “What do you know of Aufflasiss?”

“Nothing.”

The sharp answer provoked him even more. “He is the Hyinakin God.”

“And quite mad,” Avalessa murmured.

Rather than upset the gnoll, her comment drew an ugly laugh from Kharr. “Gods should be terrifying. Not fools dancing like idiots in glades under starry skies.” He turned back to Yokïmi. “When those of my triad die, the hunt begins. For each soul, Aufflasiss sends an avatar to consume them. Outrun the avatar, and the soul can arrive in paradise and be forever safe from His hunger. Falter, and He will snare you. Some few he casts into the River of Souls as token offering to the Lady of the River. Most he drags with him back into his hellscape.” A savage smile lit his hyena-like features. “The greatest honor goes to those who can slay the avatar.”

“How can a soul kill a god?” Yokïmi asked, curious in spite of herself.

“With the Spearhead of Szurr. It is an artifact placed on the pyre with the dead. A copy of it follows the soul. It is made of a metal that can cut even a god.”

“Or so the legend goes,” Sylnie added with a lightly sarcastic edge.

“Scared to hear of a weapon that can gut one of your puny gods?” Kharr hissed a wheezing laugh.

“It is one thing to carve into a mere shadow of a Divine being, especially a crazed one like Aufflasiss. Quite another to think you could injure the most powerful deity in the pantheon.”

“Is that how you see your Narrum, then?” Kharr snorted, crowding the Cleric a little. “What hubris!”

“Humanoids dominate the world. What does that tell you?” Sylnie didn’t back down from the hulking gnoll.

His people are not as powerful as the virtues which crosses all racial lines, Yokïmi said to herself. Love. Hate. Fear. Hope. There are gods for each. Their power would surely laugh at Narrum’s influence.

Done with listening to their squabble, she interjected. “What does any of this have to do with what Akuje has done?”

“He stole the spear.” Kharr went from dark joking to deadly seriousness.

“Why?”

“I am a hyinakin DreamEater. Visions fall from the hands of my god’s Huntmasters, those immortal beings who interpret his will. I take them in and devour the Quests they impart for the glory of Aufflasiss. In this way, I become stronger and make ready to kill him when I die.”

How poetic, Yokïmi whispered inside. She left it all unsaid, wanting him to tell her the rest. “What did the visions tell you?”

“Your sibling took the spear as part of the spell he used to summon this fell magic.”

“But if that’s true, then it’s gone.” Yokïmi said, hardly able to believe he set out on this Quest without understanding the fundamental fact that material components were destroyed during a spell’s casting.

Kharr smirked right back. “Nothing is impossible.” He brought the spear he carried forward, planting its butt in the ground. The haft was coated in runes. They were undoubtedly magical, but were nothing like Yokïmi had ever seen. Beautiful but in a primal way, carrying an almost bestial quality to their design. The gnoll reached up and yanked a lock-pin from the wood, which in turn freed the spear tip so he could slide it free.

He tapped the empty space. “If I activate the magic contained in this wood on the spot where the spearhead was sacrificed, it shall be returned from the ether. From the sense of my vision, doing so shall cause harm to the monster your sibling has become. It will open the path to his destruction.”

Yokïmi had never heard of such magic. It opened intriguing possibilities, though she had set herself on a path where spell materials wouldn’t be necessary except in very special cases. But it bears remembering. Nothing is truly lost. Not even those things dissolved by magic.

“Then what do you want of me?” she asked.

“The Oracle told us that unless your steps walk beside ours, our Quest will fail.” Sylnie shrugged. “I’m not sure that is a prediction or mere logic. We are hunting the monster your brother has become on your family’s lands. Ignoring the advantage you offer wouldn’t be wise.”

“It goes beyond mere logic. All of us witnessed four souls combining together to be victorious over him,” Avalessa said, watching her closely. “We need you. And if I’m right about what I see in you, then you’re not one to leave any matter unfinished. If he was dead, you could grieve and be on with your life. But he isn’t. And he isn’t finished with the damage he’s going to cause the world. That means your final chapter in this story isn’t yet written.”

Yokïmi wanted to deny it. To tell the elf that she was dead wrong in her appraisal. I’m not some avenging angel. He tore my whole life apart. Why does being his twin sister place the onus on me to risk my life to stop him?

But it did. No matter how badly it terrified her to face him again, she knew it would be impossible to walk away. The words of the Oracle only made it worse. If I say no, these three are going to try anyway. They’ll be the first to die, and how could I not believe that their blood would be on my hands?

“You’re right. This isn’t finished. He… isn’t finished.” Yokïmi closed her eyes, surrendering to the fate laid out for her. “Not until I finish him.”

Chapter 14

“W–w–w–wait,” Parrun held up a finger. “Let me see if I get the full spirit of what you’re saying. In the company of these total strangers, you’re going to traverse a tortured wasteland infested with unspeakable horrors spawned from fae-magic run amok, in which roams your not-so-dead brother corrupted with untold yet undoubtedly terrible powers with the intended purpose of not avoiding said monster like any sane person, but actually hunting him in an effort to kill him.”

Yokïmi followed his tirade, then shrugged her shoulders. “Sounds about right.”

“Huh.” He gave a small shiver, then shone a bright grin her way. “I’m in.”

A helpless laugh escaped her.

“I can’t quite tell,” Sylnie pondered, rubbing her chin with a theatrical flair. “Did he take the danger as a warning or a temptation?”

“Uncertain,” Avalessa admitted, equally fascinated by the predoran’s reaction.

“Boring if it isn’t both,” Parrun quipped back, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “I doubt this is going to be boring.”

“How soon can you have the mule packed and ready?” Yokïmi asked.

“Not long. Might take time goading the lazy beast away from the endless hay and apples it gets here.”

“Hurry a little. It is already late, but we might be able to make it through the pass before we have to stop and rest until morning.”

Tipping a finger to his forehead in a jaunty salute to his ‘mistress’, he vanished back through the gateway.

“Berisss,” Taliskhan addressed the neophyte. “Make ready traveling gear to ssuit me.”

The neophyte bowed low and followed the mashashi through the archway.

Even without her curse, Yokïmi wouldn’t have been able to hide her surprise. “You’ll go with us, Master?”

“You committed to remaining true to your training desspite any distraction.” Taliskhan inquired.

An embarrassed heat flowed to her face as she realized she had failed to ask him for any formal leave to pursue this matter.

“Thuss sshall I come. No choice need be made.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He wasn’t lying, but there was more to the tale. “You’ve got another purpose for coming.”

“Your insstinctss do you credit,” the zaskran said with bland approval, about as much praise as he ever offered. “I would ssee the sspot where Haruto Kai fell.”

It wasn’t a direct admission of his need to grieve, but she understood. She hoped he had an unknown power that would let him extract her body and see her lain to rest in a proper grave. She couldn’t imagine it being possible that he could do so for all those lost in the castle ruins. She didn’t dare ask him to exhume her family from the rubble. But she had witnessed the deaths in the dojo first-hand. Seeing them properly tended would be welcome.

“The naga never spoke of you,” Kharr growled. “Nor of the little cat-kin.”

“Predoran,” Yokïmi corrected him.

“Bah.” The gnoll waved at what he saw as an unimportant difference. “Defiance of the gods always bears a cost.”

“You told me I was necessary. Did this Oracle say it had to be only us?”

“No,” Sylnie was quick to say. “And if having these two along will ensure you can walk by our sides in peace, then I’ve no objection.”

“Nor I,” Avalessa added, though with a touch more caution. “But more because it is on each of us to make our own decisions. But though it pains me to say it, Kharr is not wrong about what the Oracle helped us see in our visions.” The elf met the zaskran master’s gaze. “I won’t offer insult to you, Master Taliskhan. I’m humbled by your offer and you may end up saving all our lives. But it is rash to ignore any portent, especially those delivered by one like the Oracle.”

“I’ve sstood before the Great Ssurruln once before. Her future ssight holdss no fear for me.”

Avalessa flowed into a graceful bow. “Then it is our honor to share the road with you, Master.”

“Bah.” Kharr gave another dismissive wave. “On your head then.” He thumped his spear and squatted down to check the buckles and straps on his own pack.

Avalessa tilted her head as she considered Yokïmi once more. “It is your Curse that you can carry nothing?”

“I’m afraid so,” she answered. “Nothing that would allow definition to who and what I am. When I was younger, I would weave wildflowers in my hair. I tried that earlier this spring, when the blossoms in the valley appeared. The rash along my scalp and neck took days to fade.” Reading the rising sympathy on the elf woman’s face, Yokïmi shifted away from the self-pitying thoughts. “Perhaps the worst of it is that I cannot share in the burden of carrying supplies. If we need to leave the mule behind, I’ll need to rely on others.”

“Your mashashi friend didn’t teach you to forage?”

“He’s tried. He even said I wasn’t entirely hopeless.” She found a gentle smile at the memory.

“High praise from a predoran.” Avalessa shared her own wry smile, then seemed to focus inward. She whispered under her breath until a white, sparkling mist floated out from under her clothing near her shoulders. It coalesced into the shape of a snowy owl which then winged away into the trees.

Though she was a Sorcerer herself, Yokïmi’s awe of magic had not faded, especially when seeing new effects unknown to her. “What was that?”

“Her name is Sepha,” the elf said with the rich affection that came when speaking about an old friend.

“Is she real or a work of magic?”

“Once real. Now… something more. I learned the Technique of rendering my animal friends onto my skin so I can keep them safe when roaming freely might get them hurt.” Avalessa gestured toward the pass leading out of the valley. “She’ll scout ahead for us, though I doubt we’ll find much trouble considering the tight control these zaskran keep over the surrounding lands.”

“Such a wonderful thing to be able to keep them forever close.”

“They are like angels watching over me,” Avalessa agreed. “It won’t be long before I bring the others out for a breath of freedom, if you’d care to meet them.”

“I would very much.”

“Except perhaps Moilla.” The elf turned her wrist and peeled back the leather bracer guarding her forearm, revealing the tattoo of a white spider with its legs curled around her arm. “Most people are unsettled by her.”

Yokïmi’s eyes went wide. “Is she truly that size?”

Looking surprised at her interest, absent of any real fear, Avalessa nodded. “They keep to their general proportions. It is one of the limitations of the Technique I’ve learned. I wouldn’t be able to protect a companion if I didn’t have the space on my skin.”

“I’ve never seen the like. White spiders aren’t common here, nor any as large as this one.” Her fingertips traced along the tattoo that was so real she expected to feel the texture of the fur on its carapace…

A new flush ran through her as she realized what she was doing. Mortified, she darted her hand away. That’s not an animal I’m petting. It’s her skin I’m caressing!

Avalessa’s lips were parted in a gently amused smile of her own. Her arm remained fixed, not pulling it away from the other woman’s touch. “Perhaps wait until we camp for the night before we meet them? Once I let them off to roam, I like to give them time before limiting them again.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I look forward to it.” Yokïmi hurriedly turned away, deciding she had already embarrassed herself enough for the evening. “Umm, do any of you have a map of the area? I’d like to plot our track onto my family’s lands.”

“I’ve one,” Sylnie said, opening the ties of a side pouch on her pack. Taking out a battered scroll, she unraveled it and braced it against a flat spot on the monolith’s outer stonework. “This shows the whole northern arm of Hu’na’la, from Hantegi Port up to Shishaku Iyanno’s lands. Including some of the tundra beyond, with what few landmarks exist past the treeline.”

Yokïmi nodded as she slid in beside the Cleric, taking in the details. It was a comprehensive map. The tundra was even marked with the emblem for the Oothmaddin, the barbarian tribes who haunted the frozen plains and raided along Iyanno’s northern boundaries. She noted what seemed to be a piece of putty clinging to the parchment in the middle of the wilderness. “Is this where we are?”

“Uh huh,” Sylnie replied.

“How does it hold?”

“Touch of trivial magic blended with the clay.”

“Clever,” Yokïmi said. “My first magical mentor would like this. He was more a Sage at heart than a mage. He’d love the idea of marking a map without ruining it with ink.” She considered the added details this map offered that she and Parrun hadn’t had access to while wandering the area. “This valley is on the edge of Shishaku Moraido’s territory, but we’ll cross into Shishaku Tonaeda’s lands within half a day’s walk. If we follow the En’dyna River from its head waters, we’ll be on my family’s lands before it flows into the Su’bora. We can trail the water to the cas… to where the castle once stood.”

Sylnie followed along, tactfully remaining silent at the hitch in Yokïmi’s voice when she corrected herself. “Four days walk. Maybe five, if the spring rains and flooding makes the terrain more difficult.”

Leaving her to pack the map away, Yokïmi paced over to Taliskhan’s side. “These people have traveled the world,” she whispered. “But none of them have any right to be ordering you about. Avalessa has sensed it, but the others… they can’t know the respect they owe you.”

“My ego iss not eassy to bruisse,” the zaskran master said, inflecting his tone with the thinnest, driest humor, barely recognizable as such.

“I thought I was tracing a map and making suggestions, but all of them took my route without question.” She flicked a finger toward Kharr. “Even the gnoll didn’t speak up. I am sorry for the presumption. I would have asked you.”

“Leave it be, my sstudent. I come to sset Haruto Kai at resst. This Quesst iss yourss and theirss. And sso, the choicess musst be yourss and theirss.”

She replied with a somber nod, allowing the weight of his expectations to settle on her. She didn’t get the sense he was testing her, though a few tests might inevitably come their way as part of the adventure. He was going to defer to her because, quite simply, in his mind, that was the way it had to be.

Wandering away from the group and into the growing dark of the forest night, she called down her orb. After coming to terms with what was necessary, she had heard the chime come from it. Orb chimes had an uncanny way of cutting through any other noise, audible even in the midst of a fire mountain eruption. Suspecting she knew why it had sounded, and thus explaining why Taliskhan was deferring to her so much, Yokïmi accessed an area that she had never seen filled before.

She began with the offered summary list first.

Quest Log:

Reckoning with the Wish-Mad Brother (Status: Active)

Her first Quest. There it was, plain as writing upon a wall. She shifted her focus to the details offered to her, wanting to know the expectations placed on her.

Quest: Reckoning with the Wish-Mad Brother

Requirements:

-  Through capture or death, prevent the monster once known as Akuje Kikuchi from being free to roam the mortal realm.

-  By the monster’s death or some other magic, heal the rift causing faelapses in the region once known in Hu’na’la as Kikuchi lands.

Conditions:

-  No other Quest can be accepted until complete.

-  No Curse caused by the Wish-Mad Brother’s magic can be dispersed until complete except by Divine intervention.

Base Difficulty Rating:

-  Acute. (Rising)

Modifying Challenges:

-  Parallel Quests are possessed by three others chosen by Narrum, Oberon and Aufflasiss. Seeking and keeping links to these champions necessary to moderate Difficulty.

-  Delay in completion will raise the Difficulty Rating as the monster gains in strength.

Total Difficulty Rating:

-  High (Rising)

Reward for Completion:

-  A Blessing from Syzara to be decided by Her.

Consequence of Failure:

- Only by completion of this Quest can the malign influence of the monster be stopped. That influence will continue to spread until countless lives are lost.

- Curses received by the monster’s hand will remain locked forever except by Divine intervention.

Yokïmi balked at the conditions, sick at the thought that she had somehow placed them on herself by her reaction to knowing that Akuje was alive. If I had never met these people, would these restrictions still be place? Would I have gone mad myself wondering why I could not seem to banish them? Or would it never have been a complication in my ignorance?

The intellectual side of her found it interesting that whatever blessing might fall on her in the aftermath, it would come from the Goddess of Quests. It seemed that since she had brought it upon herself, rather than being a Quest bestowed by a specific authority, that the Goddess would not allow her to go unrewarded.

She glossed over the details again and again, enraptured as much by the way the information was presented as much as by the contents. Not for the first time nor the last did she wonder why the gods gave them these tidbits of knowledge.

But whether it was all a Gift, a Divine jest, or a Curse all its own, she couldn’t deny her path was laid out for her. There was nothing to be done except see it through.

Chapter 15

“There it is. Bless the hearts of those bureaucratic hard-asses.” Parrun yanked the last few creeping vines away from the stone obelisk standing a bit taller than he was.

Yokïmi stepped closer to inspect it. “I’ve never seen one up close.” It was quite obviously carved by a person, for it was too perfectly rectangular to be natural. It was also some sort of black-and-gray marble, a type of stone not native to the area. On the wider face pointing toward her, the symbol of the Tonaeda family was carved into the stone, then emblazoned with golden overlay. Stepping to see the opposite side, she found the Kikuchi emblem waiting for her.

“You’ve said you expect your family’s lands to be carved apart. These markers will all need to be changed.” Sylnie sounded daunted by the task, even though it wasn’t going to fall on her shoulders to do it. “How many of these are scattered in the wilderness?”

“About one every ten miles,” Parrun said. “It was one of Katashi’s lessons… I think. Or did I skim it off a book somewhere?” He shrugged, clearly deciding that it didn’t matter. “So, yeah, once they decide where the new borders lay, some aristocrat who gets hard at the idea of pedantic administration will have the time of his life ordering new ones made, surveying the land, and directing their placement by work teams.” He rolled his eyes, obviously stunned that anyone could find that a worthy activity in life.

“You know my Farrum once applied to become a deputy in that office, don’t you?” Yokïmi teased him.

“Add it to the already impressive list of things your Farrum and I saw in totally different ways.” Parrun flicked his ears in amusement, then turned to the others. “But no doubt about it. We’re crossing into Kikuchi lands. We’re not coming at the castle directly. If you look at that map you have, you’ll see a nasty set of jagged hills between here and there. Yokïmi was right to point you toward following the river. Won’t be as straight as the arrow flies, but it’ll take us half as long.”

Kharr took a long sniff at the air. “There’s definitely a town over the next ridge, probably where the map shows the En’dyna river swelling into a small lake. There’s a flatland amidst the hills.” He gave a surly look around at the broken terrain they’d been traveling. “Does this land hate the idea of letting you see a horizon?”

“Wherever the suns vanish behind land is the horizon,” Sylnie prodded him, exchanging a wink with Parrun.

“Big concepts. Small brain. Bad match.” Parrun let out a hissing laugh.

The gnoll glowered back at them. “One day, you’ll be on the wind-swept plains of my home. There, I can see you running for miles. No hiding while you flee. I can stalk you at my leisure.”

“Sounds fun. No, really. I’m putting it right up here on another of my lists.” Parrun reached as high as he could. “You know, the things-not-to-do list.”

Not losing his dark glare, Kharr insisted, “There is a town.”

“Should be Kyrotsu, if memory serves,” Yokïmi said for all their benefits. “Not small as fishing villages go, but fairly isolated. There’s a road that leads to a larger town on the Tonaeda side, but otherwise all trade is done via the river.”

“Friendly?” Sylnie asked.

“As much as any small village so isolated from the wider world.”

“To all?” Avalessa pressed, canting her head to present her ears, the most distinguishable aspect of her elven heritage. Her elongated eyes, narrow features, and lithe physique blended well with the humans of Hu’na’la, making her far less an outsider than in some areas of the world. But her long, swept-back, pointed ears set her apart even here.

“My family never quarreled with the other races,” Yokïmi promised. “I don’t know the mindset of Danshaku Tahaka, the one who rules this town. I’ve never been here. But no local lord would dare negate my father’s will on his own lands. Not even if he heard of his death. Not until another greater lord takes his oath of loyalty.”

“Then why is there blood in the air?” Kharr grimaced after taking another deep inhale, searching for clues.

Parrun sniffed as well, and his ears fell flat to his scalp. “He’s not wrong.”

“Sepha. Vespa. Seek and tell me.” Avalessa faced the direction of the town. The owl fluttered that way and her ocelot companion dashed off into the woods in the same direction.

“If there’s trouble, I need to see.” Yokïmi wasn’t waiting. She trotted away from the marker stone, clambering up the long slope until she gained the ridgeline. The ground dropped away fast enough on the far side that she could see over the treetops to where the forest opened into the clearing around the lake and town.

Smoke was wafting off the tops of houses. It wasn’t a blaze that was out of control. Only a few, select buildings were on fire. She couldn’t see any pattern to it. The wind was blowing that smoke in their direction, giving Kharr details through his nose but obscuring much of what was going on.

As she watched, a single figure raced out from a narrow gap between two structures and ambled across the grass. He was dressed in the black and sapphire livery of Kikuchi soldiers, with his left arm swathed in the brighter blue-and-white pattern of the local lord.

“One of Tahaka’s Ashigaru,” she whispered.

He didn’t make it far. Arrows shot out from the village and dug into his back. A half-dozen struck home, enough of them finding chinks in his armor that the soldier staggered and collapsed on the open field.

From Yokïmi’s left, Avalessa spoke with her eyes closed. “There are others in the village. A few dressed as this one who are being hunted in the streets. The others are in gray and emerald armor with armbands of white with red swirls.”

“Tonaeda’s soldiers?” Yokïmi tried to make sense of it. “With Danshaku Naendu’s lesser marker…”

“Who’s Naendu?”

Parrun provided the answer, sounding equally shocked. “The lord of Isenarei, the town up the road that she talked about earlier. There is a known rivalry between the two, but a raid like this is beyond strange.”

“Could this be what you said? That Shishaku Tonaeda has already been gifted this village with your family gone?” Sylnie asked.

“There would be no need for violence,” Yokïmi insisted. “A pronouncement in the town’s square declaring the Kikuchi clan has fallen and Tonaeda as the new lord, along with the seal of the Koshaku council… that would be more than enough. Tahaka would have ordered his Ashigaru to change their colors on the spot.”

“And what if there was no such seal on the parchment they presented?” Sylnie asked.

“Take what you want,” Kharr smirked, almost like he approved. “Harder to let talkie-people give it away to someone else if you already hold it in your fist.”

Wanting to snap at him, Yokïmi couldn’t refute what he was saying. She glanced at Parrun. “Could that be?”

He shrugged. “Politics wasn’t my favorite thing. But I know Shishaku Matsuomi is a favorite of the council and also borders your father’s lands. They might award him the entirety of your family’s holdings. If Tonaeda heard they weren’t going to carve it into chunks, he might have decided to seize what he wanted before Matsuomi has claim over it.”

Yokïmi hissed. “So bold. I would not have thought him capable.”

“Then maybe we look too high? These Ashigaru are from Isenarei. Perhaps Naendu seeks to end his rivalry and present his Shishaku a gift all in one stroke. Tonaeda could claim innocence before the council, yet take the spoils of victory.”

“They might demand a sacrifice.”

“Which if Naendu is that loyal, he might gladly pay for his lord’s benefit,” Parrun suggested.

“My father spoke of him often enough. He called him a worm,” Yokïmi hissed, shaking her head. “This stinks of his ambition.”

“What would you have us do?” Sylnie asked.

“They continue to slay the defending soldiers,” Avalessa reported, eyes still closed as she peered through the eyes of her animals. “Now they harass the townsfolk. Demanding tribute from them.” She went silent, suggesting it was all the detail she had.

Yokïmi clenched her fists. “This isn’t why any of you came. But these lands are still under my family’s protection.”

“Then let’s kill the ghouls who came to feast on your family’s corpse.” Kharr gave a dark chuckle, settling his spear more firmly in hand.

“And if this is the Council’s will?” Sylnie had to ask. “If they have that seal, then this lord can do what he wishes, can he not?”

“Maybe we can make him rethink the way he treats his people,” Parrun hissed, leaping off the ridge and charging down the forested slope.

It was all Kharr needed. He let out a roar and bounded along after the predoran.

So be it. I can’t leave them to be torn apart on some foreign lord’s whim. Yokïmi didn’t stop to think how that contrasted with what she’d said to her Farrum earlier. These were the thoughts of a Lady ruling over her lands, not an orphan who was leaving that life behind. All she knew was that, in the moment, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she stood by the side.

Yokïmi had no need to summon her Phantom Body Sheath, having it already in place as they trekked through the rough terrain. She ran after the others, never so grateful for the magically protection to her soles, legs, arms, and sides as she crashed recklessly through the brush, used exposed roots as launching points, and remained untroubled by the prickles and rocks that might have sliced her bare skin to pieces.

She sensed rather than saw Avalessa running beside her. The elf had told her that the paths she walked were called AnimalMystic blended with ExoticEdge. The latter had granted her expertise with the chakram rings hooked to her body. But while she claimed to have no deep connection to the forest like her wilder kin, she was still an elf. She moved through the forest with fluid grace, not overly challenged at keeping up the pace.

Both Sylnie and Taliskhan fell quickly behind, but Yokïmi didn’t concern herself. Both were perfectly capable of joining the fight where and when they were best able.

Crossing the distance between the trees and the village left them exposed, but no enemies took notice. The cries of the wounded and screams of the terrified and grieving townsfolk began to reach her ears. As they grew louder, she found herself yearning for even more speed to be among the fighting sooner.

Both Kharr and Parrun had reduced to a prowl, stalking in between the buildings with lethal intent. That gave Yokïmi the chance to overtake them before the violence started. She struck inwards more boldly, needing to see and hear for herself the cause of all the chaos.

She emerged on the central street to see the last of the local Ashigaru being tripped and speared to the ground. With that ugly sight burned into her mind, her attention was drawn to the right by one of Naendu’s soldiers.

He was a lanky sort of man, but strong enough to snare the woman he was accosting against her door. He had a dagger in one hand, weaving it back and forth in front of her face as he shook her with the other, slamming her up against the wood.

The woman shrieked at him. “I don’t have anything! We’ve paid our taxes for the month!”

“To your old lord. I’m afraid he’s a bit strung out right now.” The soldier guffawed at his own joke, grabbing hold of her and spinning her out to face the street.

Yokïmi followed the motion and immediately wished she hadn’t. There were two horses in view, each with a rope looped around its hind-quarters. At the trailing end of each rope was a limb: one arm and one leg. She’d heard of the death-sentence of being drawn and quartered, and quickly realized she was seeing the aftermath. The silk clothing on the ripped-off limbs only confirmed that it was Tahaka, and that they were too late to save him.

The soldier grasped the woman’s hair and dragged her back against him. “Fortunately, your new lord isn’t opposed to us collecting tribute in all sorts of ways.” He shoved her against the nearest wall, grabbed her skirt, and slashed into the back of it with his blade to expose her legs.

Yokïmi took two strides toward the despicable scene, but was cut off by a howling ball of white-and-black fury. Avalessa’s ocelot soared over her shoulder and sprinted right at the man.

The soldier heard the ocelot’s throaty snarl emitting a sound like a blanket being torn apart by a monster’s claw. He whirled away from the woman, throwing up his arms in a vain attempt to protect himself. But the wildcat had too many weapons. Its hind-claws raked against his armor to little effect, but the fore-claws swiped twice with blistering speed, scouring gory lines across his face. His eyes were left in bloody, blinded ruin.

{-21}  {-24}

* Blinded *

* Tripped *

His own flailing combined with the force of the ocelot’s pounce, robbing him of his balance. Then when the cat launched off, its weight sent the man tumbling to his back. Not bothering to finish him, the wildcat set off in search of new prey.

A heartbeat later, Avalessa breezed past Yokïmi. She darted in on the soldier and jabbed down with a brutal elbow strike with her full weight behind it. It connected with the man’s knee at the worst angle possible. The armor did nothing to stop it from cracking and bending as it was never intended by nature, damaging muscles and ligaments so badly that it would never be whole again.

[-68]

* Crippled: Leg – Permanent *

The elf stopped to hiss at the soldier. “Dying’s too good for you. Live with the pain.” She then rammed her knee up between his legs hard enough that an audible crunch reached Yokïmi’s ears. The elf then sprang to her feet and raced off after her wildcat companion.

There was no time to savor the vigilante judgment. At least two dozen Ashigaru in Naendu’s colors roamed the streets carrying out their harsh orders, inflicting similar terror on other members of the town. They hadn’t quite realized the danger they were in.

That changed when a six-foot spear soared from behind a building and pierced one of them through the chest. The tip exploded out his back and pinned him to the wall behind.

{-228}

* Dead *

Kharr followed his weapon out into the open, looking no less dangerous without it. One of the Ashigaru tried to bring his own spear to use against the gnoll, but Kharr tore it out of his hands and hammered him in the head with the blunt end. The soldier’s helmet didn’t have a chance to protect him against the savage blow. It crumpled under the force, and the man fell with his skull caved in.

[-162]

* Dead *

The gnoll then turned on the next spearman who was shaking in fear.

Parrun came out of hiding with a stealthier but also lethal technique. He skittered in low, lancing a dagger into the flesh of one soldier’s calf. He drove through the leg, sweeping it out from under him and toppling the man to the ground.

(-41)

* Crippled: Leg – Moderate *

* Tripped *

The mashashi then climbed up the soldier’s body, ripping and tearing at the slats of his layered armor. His claws began to sink into flesh and soon sank into vital arteries that would soon have his target bleeding out.

{-17}  {-12}  {-13}  {-15}  {--11}

* Bleeding *

{-9}

* Bleeding *

{-9}

* Bleeding *

{-9}

* Dead *

As the fallen man rattled out his last breath, Parrun used the bulk of his chest for cover as he began weaving magical symbols. He soon completed the pattern of crackling runes, came up into view and sent a Fire Bolt sizzling into another Ashigaru nearby.

{-58}

* Burning *

{-2}

* Burning *

{-2}

Flames licked along the man’s armor from the impact point, trying to ignite the cloth under-armor. Feeling the heat, the man dropped and rolled, trying to smother the fire before it scorched him further.

Avalessa carried on her path, circling the outskirts instead of slashing right in. The diamond embedded in her collar was shining with piercing white light, shedding a soft glow around her whole body. One of the enemy archers fired a fine shot her way, but the arrow skipped off the radiant shield. She replied by winging one of her chakram back along the same flight path. The dark-metal ring hissed as it flew. It hacked through the archer’s bow and lopped off his arm.

(-42)

* Crippled: Arm – Permanent *

* Bleeding *

(-2)

* Bleeding *

(-2)

As the archer collapsed, clenching at his arm in pain, the chakram struck a stone pillar behind him and careened off. It skipped to another ledge and rebounded back to Avalessa’s hand at precisely the spot to which she’d run.

Before she made the catch, she sent a second ring skimming along the street cobblestones. It bounced off like a rock skipping off a pond, reflecting up and into the neck of another enemy archer. It sliced right through, leaving a spray of blood and a severed head to flop to the ground in its wake.

* Critical wound *

(-131)

* Dead *

The chakram flew on and lodged into the wood of a nearby building, sunk nearly to its mid-point where it would take a horse to yank it free.

It was Sylnie’s turn to announce her presence. She came rolling down one of the dirt side streets, making no secret of her arrival. From deep in her barrel-shaped chest, she boomed in a voice too loud to have come from one as small as her, “You stain the very nature of what humanoids should be. Narrum finds you unworthy!” The air shimmered as battle armor coalesced out of nothing around her. Two thick hammers phased into existence, hovering in front of her extended hands. They were too large for her to wield, but she moved them as they floated using twitches of her hands. She flicked her fingers, and one jutted out to smash into one soldier’s chest, making him stagger back a few steps.

[-31]

Sweeping her other arm in a fast arc, she sent the second one out wide and low. She swirled her fingertips, making the hammer spin as it bashed into the legs of a small knot of Ashigaru and scattered them to the ground.

[-18]  [-19]  [-16]  [-17]  [-14]  [-19]

* Tripped *

* Tripped *

* Tripped *

* Tripped *

* Tripped *

* Tripped *

The series of attacks might have chased off a smaller or less disciplined group. To their credit, the Ashigaru weathered the assault, closed ranks in mutual defense, and readied their spears while protecting the two archers remaining in support.

Also surviving was their officer, marked by the golden ring around his helmet. He bellowed, “Bandits! Cut them down.”

That he dared call her a bandit ignited Yokïmi’s anger. She lost sight of what the others were doing as two soldiers intercepted her. One stutter-stepped to a halt, bringing his spear into a defensive barrier across his chest. “They’ve conjured a spirit to fight for them!”

“Or called a fae creature from the mists!” the other one shouted, going with something a touch less ethereal. Having decided she was a tangible target, and seeing nothing more than an unarmed, potentially fragile-as-glass, naked woman, it was little surprise the Ashigaru was bold enough to jab his spear in an effort to run her through.

It was a simple attack at chest level, meant to deal with a threat equivalent to an annoying villager who didn’t flee fast enough. She made him suffer for the arrogance. Stepping a few inches to the right, it was enough for the spear to pass just to her left side. She darted in, chopping the ridge of her left hand over the haft and into the soldier’s face, nearly the only fully exposed place on him. She heard the crack of his nose and saw a small gush of blood splash onto his upper lip. That undoubtedly hurt, but it also got his body’s momentum shifting backward. Dropping low, she flashed one foot around in a spinning kick that connected with the back of his unstable heels.

[-29]

* Bleeding *

{-1}

* Stunned *

* Tripped *

Caught off guard by the viper-fast attacks, the soldier cried out and toppled onto his back. His spear went clattering to one side.

Sensing she had a few seconds left with the first Ashigaru reeling in fear of ghosts, Yokïmi jumped from her squatting position and came down with one knee leading onto the man’s face, activating her Knockout Strike Technique.

* Critical Wound *

[-71]

* Unconscious *

Mercifully, she executed it right. Using her weight like that, if she had missed, she was more likely to have snapped his neck or crushed his head and left him dead. A part of her wouldn’t have mourned him, but she wasn’t ready for such a cold-blooded execution move.

Pushing off hard, she rolled over one shoulder and away from the fallen soldier only a second before his partner got past his fear and thrust his spear at her back. Dipping a toe under the unconscious man’s lost spear, she flipped it up into her hands. Bellatirs favored a few precision instruments over tools of war, but there was an art to the spear that complemented the flow of her Ekanshin-style movements. She wasn’t a master, but neither was she a stranger to the weapon.

Hoping her Curse wouldn’t activate simply by using it for a few seconds, Yokïmi smacked the butt of her spear against the soldier’s nearest hand. One of his knuckles shattered under the blow, and he backed away from her cursing in pain as both a bludgeoning damage and Crippled tag formed on his skin where the black splotch of a bruise was sure to follow.

[-9]

* Crippled: Hand – Mild *

“Gah, you bitch!” Shaking off the pain, he came at her with a far more balanced thrust, not making the same mistake of over-confidence.

But she’d already seen him not doing well at protecting his hands. He made the same mistake again. Rather than strike at his core, she slashed her spearhead down on the soldier’s other hand, blade-edge leading.

The thick padding and studded leather braces on the backs of his fingers dampened some of the damage, but not all. The impact crushed another pair of his knuckles and finger-bones, while his pointer finger was severed near the palm.

[-9]  (-6)

* Crippled: Hand – Moderate *

* Bleeding *

(-3)

* Bleeding *

(-3)

This time, she didn’t let him disengage cleanly. He tried to keep hold of spear, but his grip was fragile with the damage done to both hands. She leaped forward kicked it out of his hands. She then grasped her own spear in both hands and cross-checked him in the face with the full force of a dynamic body extension behind it, summoning her Knockout Strike Technique again.

* Critical Wound *

[-82]

* Unconscious *

His lips split open on his own teeth, two of which were jammed from his mouth and skipped over the dirt away from him. But he wasn’t awake to feel the pain.

The scramble of feet from behind warned her of new danger. Knowing little else, she narrowed her slender body and whirled to one side. As she spun, she stacked her stolen spear vertically to intercept a spear strike from as many angles as possible. Unfortunately, this Ashigaru had decided to come at her with his half-sword instead. It skipped off her spear, but he carried the cut through well enough that the tip slashed along her back.

(-11)

The damage tag floated into the air, representing nearly a sixth of her PDP. Besides the flash of pain, the thought flitted across her mind that it had also leeched away from the pool she could use to power spells.

Another corner of her mind noted with morbid curiosity that her blood was glassy and clear as the tiny droplets sprayed away from the wound, instead of the crimson she was used to seeing all her life.

Yokïmi knew she was in some trouble. She had expended much of the element of surprise and demonstrated how poorly suited long spears would be at dealing with her combat style. This Ashigaru had made the right choice in switching to his sword, and he seemed like a well-seasoned professional. She had her tricks, but her Bellatir level wasn’t that high.

I need to generate some new surprise. Let’s hope he hasn’t fought many like me. She made a show of bringing her claimed spear on point. That provoked her attacker to charge in more recklessly, getting inside her spear’s reach. He raised his blade high and began to chop down at her.

It was what she both anticipated and wanted. She’d executed this move a thousand times in training, but never when her life hung in the balance. Her heart pumped faster, boosting her speed though hopefully not making her hands shake too badly. To do this, she needed to be precise.

Making no further attempt to use her spear, she discarded it and stepped into the soldier’s strike instead of retreating away. Her hands flowed up high to meet his, but made no effort to interrupt his power. Her fingers curled around the man’s wrists as she pivoted her hips into the path of his lower body. Taking control of his downward swing, her interfering body and the energy created by his own sword strike flipped him over her hip, tossed him head over feet, and sent him crashing heavily to the ground.

[-21]

* Tripped *

* Rattled *

With a sideways twist on his weakened grip, her hands relieved the Ashigaru of his sword. Unfamiliar with using the blade, she tossed it aside and instead drove a heel kick into the soldier’s face, using her Knockout Technique once more.

* Critical Wound *

[-78]

* Unconscious *

Above her, a chime sounded from her orb.

“Enough!” The cry from the officer was no longer confidence, instead rife with desperation and fear.

Not immediately threatened, Yokïmi whirled out into the central street. There she found the remnants of Naendu’s soldiers withdrawn into a tight formation around the officer. There were only five left. Considering so many others had fallen, they couldn’t possibly believe they had the ability to fend off the adventurers arrayed against them.

Sylnie stood with her arms folded, glowering at the enemy group while her hammers hovered menacingly above them. Parrun was perched on a large cart, his tail twitching behind him. One of his ears was seeping blood as badly as any scalp wound. Kharr had a hand against one of the buildings, trying to appear haughty and invincible, but there were a pair of deep cuts extending from his sides across to his back. Avalessa was crouched in the middle of the street, stroking Vespa’s fur as if to soothe the beast and stop it from pouncing.

“By what right do you interfere?” the officer thundered at them. “I’ve lawful authority over this village. How dare you cause such mayhem!”

Striding forward, Yokïmi spat back at him, “My fath… Shishaku Kikuchi is master of these lands, and you wear the colors of another.”

“Kikuchi is dead,” the officer answered with callous disdain that was far too rude to use when speaking of a respected lord. “Unworthy in life and unremarked in death. We’ve come to –”

“Do you carry the seal of the Koshaku to back that claim?” Yokïmi demanded, her anger at hearing him besmirch her family’s name barely held in check.

His rage at being interrupted reflected hers. “I’m sent by my lord and master. He gifted me this village as my new station. That is all I need as Samurai to –”

“Kill him.” Her chill command cracked like a whip.

Avalessa moved like lightning. Two chakram hissed through the air in near synchronicity. The first sliced into the officer’s light armor and lodged between his ribs, bisecting his heart. The second chopped into his skull right at the level of his eyes, carving halfway through his brain before halting.

* Critical Wound *

(-168)

* Critical Wound *

(-159)

* Dead *

He collapsed to the ground, spasming violently as his body struggled to come to terms with the fact that it was already dead.

The elf returned to her crouch, scowling at the remaining Ashigaru as she fingered the last remaining chakram attached to her belt as an overt threat that any of them could be next.

Huffing with her rage, Yokïmi strode forward a few more steps, scouring up and down their ranks. “Which of you is his second?”

None of them stepped forward, but the eyes of the lesser soldiers all flickered to one of them in the ring. Realizing he’d been betrayed, the second squared his shoulders and tried to stand proud. “I am.”

“Who gave the order? Was it Tonaeda?”

He opened his mouth and tried to answer, but his lower lip trembled so badly that the words came out distorted.

Clenching her teeth, Yokïmi raised her hand in mute threat. She hadn’t pre-arranged the signal, but she had no doubt that if she chopped it down, one of the others would deal a killing blow on the soldier.

“Danshaku Naendu!” the man cried, fear forcing it out past the lump in his throat. “His hatred of Kyrotsu’s lord is well-known. He feared that if the town fell under the sway of a different Shishaku, he’d never satisfy his vendetta.”

So, he sends that animal of a Samurai to harass the town, rake them for more tribute, rape their women, and assassinate their lord. A reckoning is needed here. But we don’t have time. And however powerful these new friends of mine might be, even if we can decimate all of Naendu’s military might, we can’t stand against what Tonaeda might send to support him.

“Go,” she growled. “Tell that dog Naendu that if a single Ashigaru with his colors sets foot on these lands again, I will raze his whole town to the ground.” When the soldiers continued to merely shiver in fear, she screamed at them, “I said go!”

They fled and never looked back.

Chapter 16

Bouncing back and forth between irritation and outright anger, Yokïmi watched the last of the outsider soldiers flee, then turned her back on them in an effort to cool her flaring emotions.

Cautiously, the people of Kyrotsu emerged from their hiding places. Most remained close to their doors so they could barricade themselves again, uncertain if these violent strangers were actually better or merely a new sort of demon come to torment them. A set of three had more courage, edging out toward the center of the street.

Taking that as a sign, Yokïmi came to within a few paces of them. A small mercy was that after the rampaging destruction of their town, even when their eyes dipped lower to take in her naked form in understandable surprise, there was no trace of passion and their focus didn’t linger.

“Having lost so many of his fighters, it will be some time before Naendu can muster another attack.” She summoned all the confidence she could without any promises to back it up.

“And if they don’t believe your threat?” the only woman of the trio asked, wringing her long, dark hair between her hands.

“Next time they’ll burn the entire village instead of merely a few buildings,” said the man on the left, his eyes shrouded with sorrow that suggested he’d lost something or someone important in the raid.

The other man shook his head, swiping a hand through his saggy, dark hair, leaving a smear of ash on his face. “We know you were trying to save us. But this could mark all our deaths. Unless the rumors about our lord’s death are wrong. Can we beg Shishaku Kikuchi for help?”

“No,” Yokïmi answered, saying nothing of who she was. “The castle did fall. The family was wiped out by…” She didn’t know how to describe it.

“A faelapse unlike any other,” Parrun provided from where he still crouched.

She flashed him a thankful smile, then turned back to the villagers. “As good a way to describe it as any. All you’ll find at that castle is death.”

“Then what can we do?” the woman demanded. “Wait here until they’ve got their strength back? They’ve killed all who protected us. Including our lord! We can’t mount more than a token defense if they come again!”

She wasn’t wrong, and Yokïmi struggled to find an answer. We can’t stay. The Quest says Akuje is gaining in strength. We can’t spend our time here, no matter how worthy it might be to guard their lives. Stalling for time, she asked, “Has there been no word at all from the Koshaku council declaring a new Shishaku over these lands?”

All three shook their heads and gestured helplessly. “Our Danshaku…” The ash-marked man’s sad eyes drifted to the bloody smear in the town square and the twisted remains of the man who had been their village leader. “… if he received word, he has said nothing to us.”

It’s worse than them being exposed. The lord they respected and trusted is gone. They need a plan. Something. Anything to latch on to for hope. And it can’t be us…

Her swirling brain produced a possible idea. She chased after it, calculating the holes and dangers that it might cause, then inventing other measures to account for them as rapidly as she could.

“What are your names?” Yokïmi suddenly asked, needing to connect with them so they would hear her.

“Yuina,” said the woman.

“Hinade,” said the ashen-faced man.

The last of them replied, “Hichei.”

Nodding to each of them, Yokïmi didn’t provide her own. If she tried to lie, they would see through her emotional vulnerability. Better to keep things simple.

“Here is what you’ll do,” she went on, her mind racing as she spoke. “From what I know of him, Shishaku Tonaeda is not above taking advantage of an opportune situation, but he’s a cautious man. He should not be considered friendly to your people, but he will fear the wrath of the council. Naendu seeks to force his hand, to declare your town his own. If the council has yet to make its decision, they may acquiesce if Tonaeda can prove he has taken you under his protection.”

“He would dare call this protection?” Yuina had to ask, though she knew it was a question that couldn’t be answered.

Returning a grim shrug, Yokïmi insisted, “You mustn’t give him the chance. Can one of you form calligraphy well enough to go before a lord’s eye?”

The other two looked to Hichei, who looked far less sure as he said, “I can make the attempt.”

“You’ll do fine,” she encouraged, suspecting a good, authentic attempt written in desperation would convey what the village needed better than a polished, perfect work. “Create two missives. The first you will send to the Koshaku Council itself. Tell of what happened here. Place the blame honestly on Danshaku Naendu. Make it clear Tonaeda had no hand in it. This will give him an honorable escape.”

“And the second?” Hinade asked.

“The second will be more critical, for the Council does not move quickly. Yet the very existence of the first missive will place pressure on Tonaeda. He must be told about it. The second missive will be sent to him as a warning that with Shishaku Kikuchi gone, your only recourse was to demand action from the Council. To let them know of the brutality done here by a lord under Tonaeda’s dominion.”

Understanding dawned on the faces of the trio.

Yokïmi pressed the point, not leaving anything to chance. “Tonaeda won’t risk losing face before the Council. I’d bet Naendu will provide confirmation of what he did himself when he goes begging for help. If your missive gets there first, then Tonaeda will know he’s been backed into a corner. If he doesn’t hold Naendu accountable himself, then the Council may force his hand and usurp his authority on his own lands. It’ll make him look weak to the rest of the Kazoku caste, manipulated by his own lesser lord.”

“Instead, he’s going to be manipulated by you,” Avalessa noted from not far off, a clear note of approval on her face.

“If all goes well,” Yokïmi confirmed.

“By what right will we do all this?” Yuina asked, the idea of playing such dangerous, political games obviously staggering her a little.

“You three are speaking for the town right now. Act together or decide a leader between you. But this is the price for having the bravery to step forward. The power of the Danshaku is on your shoulders until an emissary of the Council tells you different.”

Hinade spat on the ground. “Knew I should have held my peace. This is a fool’s errand.”

“We’re no one,” Hichei added, raising his palms in another helpless gesture. “I’m a scribe. He’s a carpenter. She’s a gardener. Do you not understand?”

“All noble families had humble beginnings in ancient times,” Yokïmi said, not sure what else she could say. “If you cared enough to listen this long, then I’d say you have the iron in your spines to see this through. Now, go. Do it quickly. Any time wasted is time you’re giving Naendu to craft his own plans. If you stand idle, he might yet rule over your village. And you’ve seen what misery that will bring. Use that to spur you on when your courage is failing you.”

She didn’t say it aloud to avoid hexing their efforts, but she also wanted them to hurry out of fear that her low Aura scores might make her entire plan forgettable in their minds. That all of her words would seem dull and lifeless if they took too long to act on them.

Already, the three villagers weren’t moving with the same sense of purpose she would have liked to see in them. They exchanged nervous glances, daring each other to move first. At last, it was Hichei who strode back toward what looked like his shop where he might find parchment and ink to pen the missives. “Come on,” he said softly. “We’ll see it done. Kana and Miyaka can take the missives for us. Both know how to run and ride.” The other two trailed along by his side, whispering rapidly between them.

Hoping she’d set them on a path that would keep them and their families alive, Yokïmi drifted back to where the others lingered. The quiet but imposing presence of Taliskhan near the corner of one building reminded her with stunning clarity that she hadn’t seen him through the entirety of the fight. She came to a stunned halt in front of him.

“Why?” was all she could think to ask of her mentor, hoping she didn’t sound as petulant as the whole question sounded in her mind. Why did you come with us if you intended to do nothing?

“These soldiers were within your capability to defeat. As I said when our journey began, your training must continue,” Taliskhan said with impassive simplicity.

“The danger was real enough,” she noted, glancing over her shoulder at the nasty scrape on her back still oozing crystal blood and leaving watery blotches on the ground in her wake.

His stony expression didn’t waver. “All the better to sharpen one’s senses. A fine way…” He turned to look at the three villagers entering the scribe shop. “… to continue becoming who you must be, even if it isn’t what you yourself expect.”

Giving him a sour glare, pushing the edge of impertinence, she decided there was nothing to be gained with this argument. The ancient zaskran was a law unto himself, and she wasn’t going to change him. She wasn’t sure she had the right to try. I’ve sworn to follow his teachings, even if it gets me killed.

She rolled her shoulder, feeling a burning ache creeping up her back. She addressed the group as a whole. “Are all of you fine with staying here for the night? It’s far enough to Naendu’s town that they couldn’t be back with reinforcements before the dawns.”

“Wouldn’t mind finding a spot to lick our wounds,” Parrun said, prodding his bleeding ear tenderly.

“I’ll ask Narrum to bless us with his aid,” Sylnie offered. “I’m sure he will answer.”

“Even us heathen races?” Parrun grinned at her.

“A heathen doing his will. He has good cause to keep you alive.” Sylnie tilted her nose up in a purposefully haughty pose, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips.

That drew a hissing laugh from the predoran, and he jumped down to the cobblestone street. “Where do you think we can seek shelter, then?”

“The sign on that inn says the Chatty Chipmunk. Even looks like it has a tavern room attached.” Kharr spoke with forced, exaggerated cheer, putting on a brazen act and moving with total disregard for the pain that had to be raking him with every careless move as he strolled to where he had dropped his massive pack. He swept it onto one shoulder, not seeming to care about the crimson droplets he spattered on it or the ground. “Sounds good to me!” The gnoll kicked the tavern door open and strode inside.

“Better stop him before he eats someone,” Sylnie sighed, then trotted in after him. Parrun wasn’t far behind.

Avalessa coaxed her ocelot to her side, gave it a kiss on its snout, then dismissed it into a fog. It flowed back under her clothing to take its place as a tattoo.

“What of Sepha?” Yokïmi asked, calling the owl by name.

That brought a smile to the elf’s face, as if it was a rare thing and a sure way to get on her good side. “She’ll keep watch through the night. If you were wrong about the distances, we’ll know before any enemies are on us.” She trailed the others inside.

Pleased to hear it, Yokïmi looked to her master.

Taliskhan met her eyes and didn’t move.

Her shoulders sank as she surrendered once again to his will and preceded him through the door.

*          *          *

She passed into the tavern’s common room to the sound of Kharr’s booming laughter. “Don’t flee! We’re not bandits.” A half-dozen villagers were emerging from what must have been hiding places and barricades they had created using tables and chairs. They were slinking around the walls, aiming to for the two doors to escape from the massive hyinakin’s boisterously intimidating presence.

He caught sight of one fetching tavern maid and mockingly pleaded with her. “Not you, too! I needed a whore for the night. Bah!” He let out a melodramatic moan, then broke into another rough, braying laugh as the maid bolted out the rear door.

“Still winning us friends, I see,” Avalessa scowled at him.

“We saved this piss-ant town. They should be licking our boots and my cock! Or at least letting us pay for the pleasure without running off like one of those scrawny rodents they named this piddly tavern after.” He chortled as he shoved one of the tipped-over tables back onto its legs. He seized a chair and tossed it to where he could lean back in it, then threw his legs up on the table. “Fuhhk‘em if they can’t take a joke. Next time we’ll let them get chewed up.”

Sylnie went to the bar, planted her hands, and hoisted herself up onto its high edge. Dangling her legs off the side, she flashed a warm smile at the man behind it, one of only two villagers still holding their ground in the tavern. “He doesn’t mean it, promise. I’d say he’s actually a big ole’ bear on the inside, but that doesn’t really make it better, does it? What with the mauling people and all.”

She sighed, then fiddled with a pouch until she had eight golden coins in her palm. She placed them in a neat stack on the side of the bar closer to the innkeep. “You own the place? Well, I’m thinking this is more than you’d make from any three nights with a full crowd drowning themselves on your booze. It’s all yours if you have the guts to stick around and crack a keg for us.”

The barkeep had been nervous, holding his ground despite his fear likely because Sylnie was right and he was the owner, scared that if he ran away, the outsiders would destroy his property. But now his eyes went wide with avarice, then shot back to the Cleric’s face as if suspecting she would transform into an imp and pull back the offer.

The half-folk’s open smile remained fixed in place. “Well?”

He wet his lips and his eyes darted down to the gold again. He snatched up the stack and whisked it out of sight. “Gonna be needing food?”

“And rooms,” Sylnie confirmed. She leaned over the bar without waiting for him and grasped a half dozen keys off the placard. She began tossing them one by one to the others.

The barkeep didn’t make a fuss, instead vanishing into the back to scramble up whatever food he could find onto a platter for them.

“If you add three more, I’ll stay and play,” the second villager spoke up. He’d concealed himself up on the slightly raised stage intended for musicians to entertain the crowd. He was young, a year or two less than Yokïmi in age, putting him just past the cusp of being a man as such things were considered in Hu’na’la. There was still fear in him, but the brash courage typical of his reckless age was making him bold enough to grab at the chance to earn enough coins to make a serious change in his life.

“Three gold coins?” Parrun challenged him, his grin from outside still pasted on his feline features. “Figure a half-dozen hours of your playing are worth that?”

“Only four hours. I can’t play right through. I’d need a break or two.”

Parrun’s grin widened at the negotiating tactic. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Atiaka.” He said it as proudly as he could manage under their combined gazes.

Kharr barked a fresh laugh. “Has nerve, this one. Give him the coins and let him play. If he ain’t worth it, we can kill him later.”

“Oh, I’m thinking he’ll be just fine. Quick hands!” Sylnie sent three more coins from her pouch spinning across the room for the would-be bard to catch. When he proved quick enough to snag all three out of the air, she flashed him a smirk. “Hmm, he does have quick hands. Killing you isn’t what I’ve got in mind for you later.”

The young man’s face drained of color as his mouthed gaped open and a tag floated off his head.

* Entranced: Mild *

Interceding on his behalf, Parrun snapped his fingers loudly enough to break him from the spell. He waved at the mess of instruments scattered around the edge of the stage. “You play all of them?”

“Umm, no. But some. This is my best.” He plucked a biwa from the corner without much flair, recovering slowly from his daze.

“Then let’s see what you can do,” Parrun encouraged the lad.

Giving a shaky nod, Atiaka righted a stool, sat on its edge and began to tune the strings before starting into a gentle melody, feeling his way into the moment.

As he settled in, Sylnie slipped off the bar. “How’s about we get into some healing, hmm? You first.” She pointed at Yokïmi.

“I’m hurt worse,” Kharr complained.

“Are you? Didn’t see it past all your posturing. You just sulk and suffer.”

Yokïmi didn’t argue, more than happy to have her pain taken away. She helped the Cleric right another table and a pair of chairs. Asking Sylnie for a brief pause, she went over to the bar and searched until she found a clean-looking bar towel. She returned with it, spreading it out on the chair she had selected. She reversed it and then straddled it, leaning over the chair’s back to present her stinging injury to the half-folk woman. Now safe from whatever sticky residue might be on the chair, she dismissed the Phantom Body Sheath spell with a tap of one finger so it wouldn’t interfere with Sylnie’s touch. The cool press of her breasts against the chair’s wood felt more real. With the stripping away of that invisible armor, she felt a touch more conscious of being naked in the middle of the room. She tucked her thighs in firmly against her seat, blocking view of her spread core from the others as best she could.

“Want a drink to take your mind off the pain?” Avalessa asked as she glided toward the vacated bar area.

The elf’s voice came as a welcome distraction. Indeed, Yokïmi couldn’t deny the warm tingle danced through the same intimate places she was trying to conceal. To avoid any trace of that showing on her face, she focused on the question she’d been asked. “Sake if you can see any.” She had no wish to get soused, but she hadn’t tasted rice wine on her tongue since the night in the bathhouse. She suspected it might be some time before she’d have another chance.

Avalessa arched one of her angled eyebrows. “Despite all I’ve heard of it since arriving in Hu’na’la, I’ve yet to sample any. Perhaps I’ll join you.” She started scanning over the bottles on the shelves.

“If I have to wait for my ear, I’m not doing it sober,” Parrun joked, walking over to join the elf, though his target appeared to be getting into an ale keg to fill one of the mugs stacked nearby.

“Give me one, too, catling,” Kharr snarled, still stretched back in his chair against the wall. A slightly pained slur now dragged at his words.

“Call me that again and the best you’ll get is me throwing one at you, dog breath.”

“Predorans. Always so prickly.”

“Hyinakin. Always so stupid.” Despite the insults, Parrun did pull a second and third mug. He padded over to place one on the table near Sylnie before plunking one down in front of the gnoll with enough force to send a good deal of the foam spilling onto the table and into his lap. “Oops. Try not to slop any more on you.”

Not rising to the bait, Kharr seized the mug and slurped it down in one long draught, then licked deeply into the mug, banging on the side to make the last drops roll down toward his tongue.

“Thanks,” Sylnie said absently to mashashi, though she didn’t reach for the mug. Her hands were brushing over Yokïmi’s back, not quite touching her skin as her Divinely empowered senses examined the full extent of the injury.

“Do you need me to do anything?” Yokïmi asked.

“Exactly the opposite. Remain very still.”

“Mind if I check my orb?”

“Not at all. It will help stop you from moving.” Sylnie fell back into her mild trance.

Trying to keep her every movement minimized, Yokïmi drifted on the strains of music Atiaka was sending over the room and ignored the ongoing banter between Kharr and Parrun. She even managed to blur out Taliskhan’s imposing presence as he sank into a chair in a shadowed corner of the tavern.

Her glassy orb swooped down in front of her eyes, the light pink mist within clearing as she brought up the status display.

It was the chime from after the battle that made her want to look. The chime that signified some serious change. While she wasn’t sure she appreciated her mentor’s trial-by-fire methods, she couldn’t deny their effectiveness. Less than a week traveling the world and a single fight to solidify the new Skills he taught me in the dojo, and here I’ve gained another Level.

Despite that being her goal, she couldn’t help but notice an additional group of changes on her update list.

* New Impactful Moment: Inspiration of the Villagefolk *

* Aura (Power / Precision / Persistence) +1

She quickly accessed the details behind the new entry on her list of critically important events in her life.

Impactful Moment: Inspiration of the Villagefolk:

-  The right words were found. They were delivered with passion. The reason for them being spoken resonated with the listeners. This represents a renewed connection to the noble blood flowing through one’s veins.

-  +1 Aura (Power/Precision/Persistence)

She couldn’t deny her pleasure at seeing her Aura scores rise again. It seemed her Farrum was right that they were so weak that they were climbing fast. She hoped they would continue to do so at least until they were nearer to the human average.

But she frowned at the reason for gaining the Impactful Moment. I don’t want to reconnect with my noble heritage. I’m trying to leave it behind. She wanted to do the right thing, and she couldn’t ever see herself making different choices when it came to helping people. But that didn’t mean she wanted to lead those people!

Releasing the frustration, she put it behind her. Just because the gods want to tempt me back onto that path doesn’t mean I have to follow. Pulling herself back to her original purpose, she didn’t waste any further time. She tapped on the green [+] marker glowing in the display.

* Bellatir level up! *

* Resilience (Tolerance) +1 *

* Physical Damage Points +8 *

* Mental Damage Points +4 *

* Emotional Damage Points +3 *

* Soul Damage Points +2 *

* New Technique Unlocked – Bellatir Adapted Spell: Presence Haze now Level 1 *

* New Talent Unlocked – Danger Sense now Level 1 *

It was a windfall as Level increases were measured. As much as the Talent description interested her, it was the Technique that she had been waiting for. She found it interesting that the same Spell didn’t appear in her normal Spell listing. That suggested she wouldn’t be able to cast it by normal means.

After quick reflection, she decided that made sense. She hadn’t learned the magical runes or words that would let her cast the spell it in the formal way that a Sorcerer or ChiKiln would conjure it. She only knew the short-hand version that a Bellatir would use. It was like being handed a crossbow. She could know how to crank it, set the quarrel, aim and fire the weapon without understanding the mysteries behind the mechanics of tension, springs, and aerodynamics. This spell was a crude tool, no matter how useful it might be.

She opened the Spell Technique to see its limitations.

Technique: Bellatir Adapted Spell: Presence Haze: Level 1

-  This is a Spell hardened into a form where a martial art master can summon magical energy in reduced time and with reduced requirements.

-  The Spell must still be provided with energy, either from material components or using a separate Technique for Burning PDP. Material components must be held in the practitioners closed right fist.

-  The material component required is talcum powder.

-  Presence Haze causes the Bellatir’s body outline to become indistinct for between 1-3 minutes, depending on Mental (Persistence) Abilities. The practitioner’s movements will blur together to cause misses from opponents. The effect does not cause any invisibility effect.

-  Presence Haze is a Low-Level spell.

-  Higher levels of this Technique will augment the spell effects; prolonging its duration, intensifying the haze effect, and reducing the energy demand if Burning PDP. It will always be rated as a Low-Level spell.

She could see the usefulness of the magic, and it pointedly mentioned not changing her visibility status. She hoped that meant it wouldn’t activate her Curse while potentially allowing her to obscure her nakedness for small periods if she felt it could help her in the moment.

Her curiosity next guided her to the details of the other special addition to her repertoire.

Talent: Danger Sense: Level 1

-  This Talent is a sixth sense that warns of impending, physical danger only.

-  The damage does not have to be directed by any sort of intelligence. (i.e. A falling rock about to smash into one’s head will activate the sense.)

-  This Talent cannot predict the future. (i.e. Cannot predict an attack from an enemy who has not yet decided to strike.)

-  This Talent cannot account for danger that is impossible to anticipate. (i.e. Cannot warn against a stone that unexpectedly but naturally comes loose and falls away from under one’s foot while climbing a cliff) However, the Talent can sense purposefully laid traps, even when hidden from view. Various Skills, Talents, and Techniques utilized by Trapmasters may reduce the chances this Technique will activate.

-  This Talent can warn against danger created by one’s own moving body, even when the other object/person might not have been a danger originally. (i.e. Falling toward the ground will present the stationary ground as a danger or reaching for a blade’s sharp edge will present a danger.)

-  The danger must enter the maximum sensory radius before the warning can activate. As such, faster moving threats will be more difficult to avoid.

-  Higher levels of this Technique will increase maximum sensory radius, the ability to determine the nature of the incoming danger, and to counter Trapmaster abilities.

The twinges of pain she felt from her wound as Sylnie tended to it was an excellent reminder of how nice it would be to notice and avoid danger coming at her from behind. This Talent was one she’d be happy to improve. The downside was that because it was a Talent, the only real way to improve it was to place herself frequently in dangerous positions so her body would adapt and the Talent would gain ranks. Hardly a recipe for a safe life, but that didn’t seem likely for me anyway.

A strong heat accompanied the unusual sensation of having her flesh stretching and knitting itself back together. That tugged her back out of her deep thoughts. Fortunately, a new and pleasant distraction arrived in the form of Avalessa carrying the promised sake.

The elven Mystic placed two pewter cups on the table, perched in her own chair, then poured out two generous helpings of sake from the bottle she’d found. “Did you find what you hoped to see in there?”

Asking after anyone’s orb status was somewhat taboo, though Yokïmi got the sense that the other woman wasn’t trying to probe too deeply. If she was being honest with herself, Yokïmi wouldn’t have been that upset either way. The idea of the elf knowing intimate details about her didn’t inspire any fear. Precisely the opposite.

A soft shiver ran through her. She tried in vain to cloak it behind her genuine pleasure at the new expansion of her abilities. “It’s been a long road to my new Bellatir Level. The benefits are more than I anticipated. When I lost my last mentor, I’d wondered if I’d ever have the chance to earn another. Haruto Kai was as much my friend as my teacher, and I wasn’t sure I’d let myself learn from another.”

“Life has a way of sweeping us along,” Avalessa replied, her smile one of understanding. “Even when we don’t want it to.”

“With such long lives, I’d think elves would become masters at carrying on despite whatever happens.”

“Some, but not all. Most allow the darkest parts of our lives to fade into the mists of the past. Others… well, dwelling on darkness for centuries can twist a person. They can live in misery, fixating on what they can never change until it consumes them. It is one of the most dangerous afflictions among fae-kin.” A fond smirk bloomed on her lips. “Faeries avoid it by never taking anything seriously and leaving it all to roll off their shoulders within days. Who’s to say they don’t have the true path of wisdom?”

Recognizing her soft levity, Yokïmi didn’t enter into any sort of debate.

Interrupting from behind, Sylnie patted her on the shoulder. “Feel better?”

Yokïmi sampled her ability to move, then smiled as she realized the pain was gone. “It’s lovely.”

“All thanks to Narrum,” Sylnie said, putting quiet but genuine meaning in her simple praise to the Humanoid God. She didn’t wait to hear if Yokïmi echoed the sentiment, perhaps having learned not to expect the same strength of faith from non-Clerics. She wandered over to where Parrun was draining the last drops of his own mug.

“Hold on!” the mashashi said. “This lazy gnoll won’t get off his fat ass to refill the mugs.” With a mockingly dark glare, he grabbed both off the table and headed for the keg.

As he walked away, the bartender arrived with the food platters overladen with a variety of meat, cheese, and fruit from the local gardens. Kharr jerked his legs off the table to give him room, plunking the legs of his chair heavily to the floor. “Can’t help with the drinks. Gotta make sure the food’s good.”

“Now you’re my poison tester?” Parrun quipped as he opened the keg spigot.

With a sigh, Yokïmi banished their banter to the back of her mind. Instead, she gestured at the stack of four chakrams hooked onto Avalessa’s pack where she had leaned it earlier. “I see you got them all back.”

“I’d give anything but the lives of my animal friends to find them after a battle. They’ve cost me so much. Every ounce of gold or jewels I’ve ever earned or been given has been used to craft them.”

“I’ve never seen metal like that,” Yokïmi admitted, taking a closer look at the darkly shimmering material. It wasn’t quite obsidian, but the shade was only a tad lighter and obviously not as brittle as volcanic glass-stone.

“I’m no expert on the subject. But they are made of one of the Glorious Metals; adamantine. Unbreakable by any known force shy of Divine power. Takes rituals of incredible intricacy and smiths of nigh-supernatural talent to forge the metal into useful shapes and equally strong magic to carve symbols into it.” She favored the weapons with a proud smile, suggesting a personal Quest of hers had been involved in their creation.

“What magic is inscribed on them?”

Avalessa lowered her voice, keeping it too low for those at the other table to hear as she offered her secrets. “Unnaturally sharp edges that never dull. Prolonged flight. The ability to reflect them off objects.”

“Not the ability to return to your hand directly?”

“That’s a complicated spell. It was beyond the one who did the work for me. He was a true master, but working adamantine with meticulous spell work is challenging in ways I can’t understand.”

Yokïmi smiled, ending on a positive. “Still, they are elegant weapons for one who knows how to use them. I’d probably end up cutting off my own fingers.”

Her new elven friend laughed. “Perhaps. Though there is always time to learn a new Skill.” She tapped the table thoughtfully in time with the bard’s music floating over the room, pausing while the barkeep settled a heaping platter between them. When he was gone, she ventured to say, “Or to reawaken an old one. You’ve spoken several times of no longer wishing to be a noble of this realm. And yet I’ve seen others who claim to be nobles flounder when they try to decipher the game of politics. You’ve a knack for it.”

“But no will to use it,” Yokïmi countered, then shook her head. “What you saw out there was me echoing back the moves I’ve seen my father play a dozen times. Ai ya, do you not see? All of that was spawned from the privilege of seeing a true leader wrap his brain around such problems, not my own inspiration.”

“Mmm, yes, well, to some extent, most of what we come to master is by walking in the footsteps of others. Even infants become toddlers by taking their first steps after watching the adults around them and growing jealous because they can only crawl.”

“In the case of politics, I’d be happy to remain crawling,” Yokïmi said firmly.

“I’ll admit you might look lovely while crawling around,” Avalessa murmured. When she saw the tinge of embarrassment shine on Yokïmi’s crystalline face, the elf drifted to a different take on the topic. “And I admit there is a grand difference between a defiant defense of a town and the tedious process of collaboration, passing laws, counting tax revenue, and building roads. It takes a certain temperament to find joy in such things.” Avalessa’s smile changed to one of empathy. “Would it give you any peace to know you are not alone in this? I’ve spent decades finding excuses not to embrace that sort of responsibility. My mother would call me a master at it.”

“You’ve got a title of your own?”

“Mm hm. My mother is Queen of Vyrmorrallin, a star elf realm far to the south past the Ocean Crossing. In a land known as Yaborea.”

Yokïmi sat straighter. “So… you’re a princess?” The heraldic discipline her mother had instilled in her made her spine straighten. Hu’na’la had no such designations, but only the Koshaku council and their families were considered the equals of kings and queens from foreign lands. That meant the graceful but unassuming elf actually held higher precedent that she did at court. “You… don’t seem like one.”

“How many elven princesses have you met?” Avalessa asked with a soft laugh.

“None,” Yokïmi admitted a bit sheepishly, realizing how foolish that sounded.

Her laugh still echoing, the elf Mystic admitted, “My mother would probably agree with you. She considers me impetuous, though I suspect she has her own wilder, darker side that she hides well from the world.” She took a long sip from her cup, let out a long sigh that hinted at how much she enjoyed the sake’s taste, then went on, “It sickens me to think that star elves would ever become as cloistered and pretentious as the high elves. Then again, I’m glad we aren’t quite so feral as our wild elf cousins can be. Our star cathedrals are beautiful to behold and it would be a shame if we never developed the enclaves for which we craft them.”

A rough clatter made by wooden legs skidding over the floor intruded on their illusion of privacy. Kharr pushed his table until it banged into theirs, creating a joint but irregularly shaped surface. From the startled looks on the faces of both Parrun and Sylnie, who had been robbed of their plates in the process, it was clear that the gnoll hadn’t asked their permission before carrying out the rude redecoration.

Slamming a palm down on the table to punctuate his arrival, Kharr grabbed hold of a chicken leg and gnawed off a sizable chunk before waving the meaty end of it back and forth between the two women. “Why squawk about this? Tribe Elders do these things. They are nothing but old warriors who cannot hunt with the pack. They preen as they crow of old glories long forgotten. Bah! Better to die on a spear with your pack mates by your side. Would you want to go blind tallying numbers on papers like an old human fart?”

Parrun spared a glance to Yokïmi, who rolled her eyes and waggled her fingers in invitation for him to come closer. With her leave, Parrun scooted his chair over and joined in with his own strong opinion. “Fulk that! I can’t wait ‘til I’m important enough to have people snapping salutes and fetching whatever I need.”

Yokïmi smothered a laugh, not concerned with Kharr reading her emotions. She doubted he cared enough to notice them when he could gawk at her body instead. She knew every word out of Parrun’s mouth was nonsense. The mashashi would go stir-crazy if he got within a country mile of the endless administration human lords suffered through. He was being contrary just to rile the gnoll.

Not knowing him half as well, Sylnie reached over and tapped her mug against the predoran’s with good cheer. “Yes! Leadership has its perks. Being known by Narrum is one thing. But being able to guide an entire clergy to greater wisdom is a life’s work to be proud of. It’s worth a few headaches sitting at a desk signing orders. I would gladly be head of a church.” She canted her head around to look at the zaskran in the corner. “What of you?”

Dipping his chin in somber approval, Taliskhan said, “There is no greater honor than securing the future of my kind and those I have come to treasure.” His head tilted to one side. “But I am confused by the humanoid need to document everything. My word is given, and my people follow. What need for more?”

Avalessa let out another of her bright laughs. “There is some wild elf in your blood, I’d say.” Seeking to change the subject, she flickered her eyes to the stage, then back to Yokïmi. “You keep stealing glances over there. Is our budding bard really that interesting, or is it something else?”

“It’s the bard,” Sylnie grew a devilish grin, then tossed another wink at the young man wending his way through another melody.

“Not the bard,” Yokïmi corrected gently. “There’s a lyre harp lying against the wall.”

“You play?” Avalessa guessed.

“Yes. Haven’t even seen one since I left the ruins of my family’s castle. My Father-in-Narrum isn’t an artist, and my focus was elsewhere while in the Sanctuary.”

“The zaskrans aren’t a musical people?” The elf risked a soft, teasing glance at Taliskhan.

He didn’t seem insulted. “The precision and harmonies are easy to appreciate, but it is not a passion among us as it is with some other races.”

“And by ‘some’ you must mean ‘all’, because the rest of the races all like music! I’ve seen an arachneid dance in her web and a sharak swim in churning circles because a drum beat was thrumming through the water.”

His head tilted to one side in that curious confusion of his. “Why should that change my kind?”

“Heavens forbid it do anything of the sort,” Avalessa chuckled, then turned back to her crystalline friend. “But that means you need to play for us.”

“It’s been over a year,” Yokïmi said, though her focus never left the lyre.

“Were you talented?”

“Yes.” The admission fell from her lips with truth, not hubris. She’d had plenty of objective assessments from her tutors that placed her well past the amateur level.

“Then your Skills won’t have faded that far.” Avalessa wet her lips with the sake in her cup, then slid it over the table. “Drink that. Then play for me.”

Yokïmi’s eyes darted to meet the other woman’s, not missing that she hadn’t said ‘us’ this time. The fact that her own cup wasn’t empty didn’t matter right then. She curled her fingers around the offered one. “Play what?”

“Your favorite.” A soft yet sly smile tugged at the elf’s lips. “Not the song you play best. The one that you’ve loved since you heard it. The reason you started playing the harp in the first place so it could be your hands on the strings creating that song.”

At first thought, Yokïmi had no idea what her favorite might be. But eventually, Avalessa’s description led her to a single inevitable choice. That song. With her choice fixed in her mind, she raised the sake cup. The rim was still warm from the other woman’s lips as she drained what was left. She savored the sweet fire of the sake. The rice wine was a local variety that lacked refinement, but made up for it with the comforting notion that it was crafted by someone here in town intended for their neighbors to enjoy.

As Yokïmi rose from her chair, Avalessa called past her, “Time to take one of those breaks, Atiaka.”

Sylnie leaned over and patted the chair beside her. “Sit over here next to me and we’ll talk about our favorite songs!”

Looking like a moth being seduced into a flame, the young bard stepped down off the stage and aimed for the offered seat; his nervous smile grew more inquisitive with each step, showing no signs that he knew what he was getting into.

The empty stage made it easier. Yokïmi didn’t often play in an ensemble, usually with no more than a trio with her two attending ladies. She spent far more time in solitary practice.

Barely audible, Parrun muttered to Kharr, “Mess this up and I’ll gut you.”

“Fine. Let’s see what the tiny little board with strings can do.” The gnoll’s words were already blurring on both ends as he drank from his fourth mugful.

Dismissing him from her mind, Yokïmi considered the humble lyre as she picked it up. She was far more capable on a grand standing harp. Even a more typical traveling harp would have suited her better. But she was no stranger to this style, and it would suit her well enough for her intended song.

Leaning against the stool, far too aware of her body to sit upon it, she folded her legs demurely in front, glad that the lyre’s backboard would conceal much of her core. It let her subdue the embarrassment about being exposed on stage. One more step toward thinking of nothing but her music.

One by one, she cast away the distractions in the room. Since the ambiance wasn’t useful to her mood, she ignored the smell hanging on the air and how the last shafts of the day’s light slanted through the windows. Normally she kept her audience in mind, but Sylnie was focused on her conquest, Parrun would be in good humor regardless, Kharr was a half-drunk nuisance, and her mentor was an impassive rock.

That left only the glowing eyes of Avalessa peering up at her. So, she kept her focus on the elf, absorbing the soft, knowing smile clinging to the Mystic’s lips as she watched Yokïmi attuning herself to the room while blindly tuning the instrument in her hands. Yes. It is the smile I’m noticing. Not the lips themselves. Not those… those lovely… lovely lips shining with the sake moistening them… would they carry the taste for very long, I wonder?

She escaped the wandering, totally inappropriate thoughts as she passed the point when she knew the lyre was ready. Her fingers transitioned from testing the strings to confidently summoning them with power. She flowed back and forth along the full sweep of the strings, getting a feel for the instrument’s range.

And then, with a knowing smile of her own, Yokïmi called upon her Harp Shadow Playing Technique. She had earned it several months before the tragedy befell her, upon earning her fifth Harpist Level. Until that moment, she’d only been able to play this true-favorite song with a companion, as it was technically a duet.

Shadowy echoes of her hands strummed more strings than should be humanly possible. Even an untrained ear could tell the melodies she was playing should be impossible except by the few races gifted with multiple limbs.

The composition was ‘Tickling Feathers on a Breeze’. She’d mastered majestic symphonies, but nothing brought her joy like this airy tune meant to inspire fluttering joy in any who heard it. It brought visions of dancing through fields filled with seed blossoms swirling on a fresh wind. She had always imagined herself spinning about, her dress floating about her legs as the breeze played along her skin.

Without any inhibition on her emotions due to her Curse, the joy she felt flowed right out over the room, countering the muting effect of her low Aura scores. The impact was undoubtedly dulled for the others, but Avalessa’s unabashed interest allowed the message in Yokïmi’s music to come through clean and pure.

The music was crafted to keep the audience anticipating but never certain when it would slow or speed up or hit a rest… then crash back into a frantic rush. Avalessa’s bright eyes danced with delight. An effect tag drifted off the top of her head.

* Entranced: Mild *

Yokïmi hadn’t started with any intention of flaunting her Skills. But the joyful appreciation on Avalessa’s face was irresistible. She wanted to take the other woman’s breath away. She needed the Shadow Playing Technique for the sake of the song choice, but her Finger Dancing Talent was pure showmanship. The notes of the song didn’t change, but the nigh-supernatural ability let her skip her fingers to where they shouldn’t be, forming unexpected patterns and making it seem to onlookers as if they were insanely fast. Combined with the Shadow Playing echoes, the effect could be mesmerizing.

She was given immediate proof that it was. Even if she couldn’t trust the spreading of Avalessa’s lips into a dazzling smile, the upgraded tag that formed over her head told the tale.

* Entranced: Severe *

Yokïmi had never seen that particular effect reach so high without actual magic being used. She understood it was not only her music, but her entire nature that was charming the elf. Avalessa’s entire being was focused on her in a way that was… flattering.

A chime came to her even through the music, and Yokïmi had no need to check her status orb to know that she had gained another Aura increase for having found a way to enthrall an audience in a way that would make a lasting impact by using her various abilities in defiance of her low scores.

Worried that being aware of the elf’s admiration would have an impact on her playing, she tried not to become entranced herself. But it was impossible. And then she decided that she didn’t care. It felt amazing to bask in the other woman’s warm approval. And in total reversal of her expectations, the deeper she embraced that lovely connection, the easier her music flowed.

She reached the end of the set piece she had been playing. She allowed her two Techniques to fade and called on the last of her musically inspired abilities. The last Talent was marked as Spontaneous Musical Improvisation. It was only at Rank 2, for most of her training was around established songs, but her mood was perfectly right for following her whims.

Avalessa obviously recognized that Yokïmi had ventured off the beaten path. The nature of her enjoyment changed. Her utter fascination softened, but an element of playfulness returned.

After listening to Yokïmi wander over the strings, an impulse toward action came over the elf. She leaned into Sylnie, whispering into her ear.

The half-folk woman’s face took on a note of agreement, a clear sign that she’d been given a good idea. She tugged on the young bard’s sleeve and urged him up onto the stage next to Yokïmi. He recovered his biwa while Sylnie secured for herself a homely fiddle. It made a pleasant enough sound when she drew the bow over the strings as a test.

Seeing she was about to have company, Yokïmi switched away from pure inspiration play and selected a well-known folk song. The Minstrel who had taught it to her had described it as widely-taught piece, known in most nations in the region.

Atiaka quickly proved that it was known in Kyrotsu, as he picked up on the melody and joined in. Sylnie then confirmed it was known in the places she had traveled, for she blended into their harmonies without much trouble. Parrun also picked up on it, for he began to rattle a pair of wooden spoons off the table like it was a set of drums, giving them a crude but effective beat.

It was a simple song at a middling pace, meant to allow those frequenting taverns to sing along if they knew the words while lifting tankards of ale in toast their memories of past times. She recalled the words, and knew they were general enough that it could sound like a tribute to nearly any town with people who liked living there and didn’t despise their neighbors. Her singing voice left much to be desired, so she kept that to herself.

Much to hers and probably everyone’s surprise, it was Kharr who began to croon in time with the music. “Gru um da de la vum prum. Fa iley ma ga zum szum. Si la vah, ah ta vah, grum zum.” To Yokïmi’s ears, she swore he was bumbling along with meaningless phonetics that complemented their melody. She supposed it might be the hyinakin dialect, but she didn’t know it and so couldn’t know for sure. He pounded his palms on the table at key moments for added emphasis.

Giving no heed to him, Avalessa eased from her chair and offered her hand toward the stage.

Yokïmi felt her heart beat faster. She knew what the offer meant. It was one thing to have a hidden tryst in an empty bathhouse. But this was a blatant offer in front of others. In front of a Cleric of Narrum. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the slight tightening of Sylnie’s expression in what might have been disapproval, though she didn’t go so far as to pause her playing to say anything.

She didn’t accept the hand because of that. There might have been a touch of defiance in her, but it wasn’t the important reason that Yokïmi took that hand. If she was being honest with herself, she’d been yearning to be closer to the elven Mystic since the minute they’d met.

Though her balance was more than sufficient to get off the stage without any help, Yokïmi took an odd pleasure in borrowing Avalessa’s strength to brace herself as she floated down and into her arms. The two of them blended into a dancing pair. Giving in to eagerness, Yokïmi came too close, tucked in against the elf in a way her noble dance instructors would have frowned upon and called improper.

Avalessa’s smile only grew as her arms welcomed her partner in. Their hips were practically touching, and Yokïmi felt a tingling rush of heat as they began to move. Pressed so closely to each other, their legs had to glide between each other’s for them to keep balance. With each slow pirouette, rock, and sway, Avalessa’s thigh glided against the creamy skin along the inside of her own. Though the elf was shorter, certain movements even caused light brushes against her intimate skin and made her wish there weren’t so many eyes around them.

Not that those eyes were paying much attention. Whatever her opinions, Sylnie was leaving them unspoken and was focusing on her own connection to Atiaka. The two of them were on to a different song and were happily making duet music with mounting skill as they got in better sync with each other. Parrun was too lost in tapping out his drumbeat, and Taliskhan was utterly unconcerned with anything regarding sexuality as always. And though she would have expected Kharr to be the one leering at them, especially so deep in his ale mug, his drunkenness seemed to have had the opposite effect. He kept up his lustful singing, giving smacks of comradery to Parrun’s back and pumping his fist at the stage to goad the two musicians on, totally unaware of the dancers.

It left Yokïmi in a separate world with her elven partner. The two turned about each other, their dance becoming slower in time with a lull in the music. Their foreheads came together, and Yokïmi drifted in a sweet state where the only important thing was how their bodies melded against each other. She ceased noticing if their steps or pace was in time with the music.

All that mattered was Avalessa.

*          *          *

Yokïmi let out a soft ‘oomph’ as she was pressed to the corridor wall. The rough impact got her heart racing, and so did the way Avalessa pinned her arms to the wood. The sound was cut off when the elf’s lips found her mouth, and the two began a fiery kiss that was both perfection while not being nearly enough. She curled one leg around the elf Mystic, digging her heel into the small of her back to hook her in tighter. Her foot then slid lower, feeling the taut flesh of the elf’s ass under her sole.

Her most common need for her Enhanced Physical Flexibility Talent was to meet the challenges of her martial art. Right then, she happily employed it for entirely different purpose. Even with her leg arched at a bad angle, she still had enough strength to press with her foot on the other woman’s behind, making it clear that she wanted the elf tucked in as close as it was possible for two lovers to be.

Avalessa answered the call. She whisked off her traveling dress and threw it into a ball in a shadowed corner. She then tucked her breasts in against Yokïmi’s own so they could enjoy each other’s firm yet yielding flesh meeting in a tender crush. The elf ended their kiss to blaze a hungry trail over Yokïmi’s jawline, then along her neck until she found the line of her pulse. She flashed a lick to sample the salty beads of perspiration off her lover’s skin. For all her protestations about not being as feral as her wilder cousins, Avalessa let out a purr that sizzled with wanton desire. Her teeth parted and she planted a love bite on Yokïmi’s neck.

That sparked a new rush of primal need in her. Yokïmi responded with her nails scratching along the elf’s now bare back. They’d left the common room on a mission to find privacy, yet the need for each other was building so fast that it was beginning to seem less and less likely they’d make it.

As if sensing her thoughts, Avalessa broke off her feasting on Yokïmi’s neck and glanced both left and right. To the left, there was a rear door leading out of the inn and to what looked like a modest garden in the back. To the right, a set of stairs that would take them to the inn’s rooms. “Which one?” Her eyes flashed with lust. “Your passion would be lovely under the moonlight.”

“Of course, you’d say that, star elf.” Yokïmi reflected the same lust as she met her eyes. “But we’ve got more than enough time in the wilderness coming. I want you in a bed tonight.”

“Then let’s get there.” Avalessa scooped her lover’s other leg off the ground.

Yokïmi willingly threw it about the elf’s hip, locked it around her other ankle, then wrapped her arms around the Mystic’s neck and renewed their heated kiss.

Picking her off the wall, Avalessa carried her to the stairs and ascended the first several. It wasn’t from the strain that she set Yokïmi down. Having this crystalline lover coiled around her had stirred her past waiting. The elf woman broke the kiss and slid down Yokïmi’s body, aiming to swirl her tongue over the tips of her left breast before walking her lips into the valley between them, exploring every inch of her glass-clear flesh.

Shuddering with need, Yokïmi clutched at the elf’s hair, holding her close. Her eyes closed, savoring the moment. “Thought we said the bed.”

“Isn’t this close enough?” Avalessa nibbled downward, pausing to taste the lower swell of both breasts before wandering onto the taut contours of Yokïmi’s abdomen.

Her core ached to give in to the temptation of having her lover’s tongue much, much lower. It was obviously where Avalessa was headed. I don’t need a bed… not really…

Fighting away the impulse to succumb here and now, Yokïmi slipped her hands under the other woman’s arms before she could descend any further, detaching herself from the embrace. Turning on the stairs, she crept away from the elf’s ardent touch. Once a few stairs away, she tossed a flirtatious look over her shoulder. “Thought you were eager to see me down on all fours. Like what you see?”

The feral gleam returned to Avalessa’s eyes. “Naughty minx, aren’t you?”

“One only the best hunter can catch.” Yokïmi let out a wicked little laugh and scrambled away toward the upper landing.

Avalessa didn’t make any effort to be silent in her pursuit. In fact, Yokïmi swore the elf was being deliberately loud to make the game more amusing. She fell behind at first, likely thinking to give her human lover the head start, but Yokïmi’s slender form was both built and trained for flexible speed. Realizing that she didn’t have to hold back, Avalessa redoubled her efforts and closed the distance with an ever-growing, sensual ferocity.

Gaining the door, Yokïmi inserted the key on the first try and whipped it open. She darted across the interior toward the bed.

Avalessa appeared in the doorframe behind her, planting her palms on either side as if to cut off any escape should Yokïmi choose to flee.

But flight wasn’t on her mind. She went to the edge of the bed and leaned one knee on the fluffy bedding. Bending over to place her hands on the blankets, Yokïmi gave her pursuer another perfect look at her lithe back and the heart-shaped swell of her tight behind. She arched her foot to stand on her tip-toes so as to elongate her legs. Even with her glass-clear skin, it crafted a fetching vision.

It provoked exactly the reaction Yokïmi was hoping for. Avalessa stormed into the room and flung the door closed behind her. She kicked off her sleek leather boots, completing the transition to fully naked, then chased her lover onto the bed.

With a sultry laugh, Yokïmi tried to scamper away, but this time Avalessa was the faster. The elf snagged one of her ankles, causing Yokïmi’s balance to waver. She spilled down to her elbows, then felt herself being dragged back down the bed. Avalessa grasped hold of her lover’s hips and lifted up, planting her on her knees before sliding one hand down Yokïmi’s spine and pushing her head down to the blankets.

The position propped her ass up in the air for the Mystic’s appreciation, and she wasted no time surrendering to her desires. The elf planted a lush kiss on the swell of Yokïmi’s right butt cheek, then sank her teeth into her clear, firm flesh just hard enough to make her gasp. She clawed her fingers into the blanket, biting her lip as she issued a whimper of need.

But Avalessa was only getting started. Her open palm smacked crisply off her lover’s other cheek in a spank hard enough to draw out a sharp cry. The elf’s hand then slid lower, gliding into Yokïmi’s already wet slit. The edge of her first finger made a heavenly path through her sensual flesh, reaching forward to expose and grind softly against her clitoris. The contact ignited sweet fires that blossomed through Yokïmi’s entire core and sent shivers of delight up her spine.

Confident that she had awoken her lover’s passion, Avalessa dipped her thumb into Yokïmi’s steamy sex, spiraling the digit’s nimble inches in an erotic search for that perfect spot to drive her lover wild.

Dancing sparkles floated in front of Yokïmi’s eyes as the fire inside threatened to explode into a bonfire. She clenched her teeth and pressed her face into the bedding as a keen of pure pleasure tore its way out of her. The tiny surge of orgasmic bliss was wonderful, but she knew it was but the leading edge of a greater hurricane on the horizon. When she final gasped in enough breath to speak, she moaned, “By all the gods, that couldn’t feel any better!”

“Oh no?” Avalessa caressed her free hand up and down along her lover’s spine, massaging into the flesh of her back in a tender counterpoint to her lewdly thrusting and grinding fingers working their erotic magic. “Shall I call that a challenge?”

All Yokïmi could manage was a trembling whimper at enduring even more.

With a sexy, teasing laugh, the elf extracted her thumb and then shifted her hand so that the first two fingers lined up with her heat. She plunged them in, opening her hand in a ‘V’ shape while the lower two fingers took over the duty of rubbing against Yokïmi’s clit.

That was already enough to convince her that the pleasure could get better, as the combined fingers were longer, thicker, and more easily pumped into her with sensual force. She pushed her behind against the thrusting digits, hungry for more.

Yet Avalessa wasn’t done. Her thumb, already slick from its time inside her lover, slid upward to circle around the crinkled rose of her anus. Yokïmi hissed at the unfamiliar sensation, startled at how tingly it felt when combined with the active stimulation of her clit and sex.

But the elf still wasn’t done. The oddly delicious spirals eased the tightness of her ring, and Yokïmi had the distinct feeling of vulnerability growing. Suddenly the lovely but utterly naughty swirls became a wet invasion from that thumb’s tip. Instinctively, she clenched down around it and flicked a wide-eyed, questioning look over her shoulder.

Avalessa’s hand pinning her to the bed softened into a tender caress. She locked eyes with Yokïmi and beamed lustful adoration back at her lover. “Trust me.”

With that, Yokïmi melted into the blankets again and surrendered herself to the moment.

Sensing her relax, Avalessa nestled a little more of her thumb into the dark tunnel of her ass. She lowered her mouth and placed several sensual kisses along her butt cheeks, then dribbled a touch more saliva down around her delving thumb to further grease its path.

Soon, it was buried fully inside Yokïmi, and the elven Mystic renewed the deeply penetrating strokes and clitoral stimulation that had already been delivering such sweet joy. Now added was the undulating movement of the thumb. She couldn’t have imagined the strange, compelling way she could feel the pulsing digits on both sides of the thin barrier of flesh now separating them.

The added stimulation gave whole new life to the torrential pleasure turning her whole world into a smear of ecstasy. Her dazzled vision fully whited out as Avalessa built up the speed of her thrusts until Yokïmi could hear as well as feel the soft smacks as the elf’s hand fucked into her.

She crested through that climax and soared on its wings in glorious release, and felt sure she was going to crash back down into gasping ruin. But then a hand tangled into her hair, transferred from off her back. Rather than pinning her down, Avalessa’s second hand clenched in her short locks and began a smooth, sexy pull.

“Oh, gods and goddesses,” Yokïmi issued in a prolonged moan. The soft strain of that pull ignited her brain with fresh lust. She followed the silent command, rising off her elbows and onto her hands, arching her back as far as her flexibility would allow it.

“Mmm, oh yes. I knew you’d look perfect on your hands and knees.” Avalessa purred with a wicked flair, then gave a very deliberate roll of her thumb inside Yokïmi’s ass just to remind the other woman how sinful they were being.

And if Yokïmi had enough of her senses to think on it, she knew that was part of the magic. Oh, the way her nerve endings tingled at each of those connections to her elven lover was undeniable. But it was the idea as much as the physical contact. She’d never felt so open before anyone. There wasn’t a single physical secret she had left. Avalessa had exposed and claimed them all. All the noble airs and high-born propriety had been cast aside and… here she was. Being ravished from behind with animal desire.

She screamed as a second wave of orgasmic passion swept through her, but there was no chance to even contemplate a fall. Avalessa kept her trapped in that arched pose and kept thrusting into her over and over, wringing ripple after ripple of aftershocks out of her until at last… at long, long last, the elf let go and Yokïmi was able to collapse her upper body back onto the bed as a lust-soaked wreck.

For a moment, she thought she was going to crash entirely. But an odd surge of energy came over her. Physically, she was overwhelmed, but the way her muscles trembled and shook wasn’t enough to dissuade what her mind, emotions, and soul still wanted. Together, they overpowered her fatigue and gave her the strength she needed.

“Come here,” she said with a husky growl. She swept Avalessa’s legs out from under her, toppling the elf to her back and then dragged her up the bed until her legs were past Yokïmi’s shoulders. The Mystic didn’t fight the move, letting out a laugh of delight as her lover now turned the tide and took charge.

Sinking back, Yokïmi found Avalessa’s breasts and finally got her own chance to feast on them. Starting with eager curls of her tongue, she tended to her lover’s nipples until both they and the areole around them was firm and red, beckoning for more of her attention.

She had other tasks in mind. Crawling up Avalessa’s body, she took her time sampling every part of her lover’s body until at last she was hovering over the point where the elf’s slender legs met. Sliding her hands around the outside of Avalessa’s thighs, she tunneled them between the blankets and her flesh. She expressed her need with gentle pressure, and the elf below her didn’t fight at all as Yokïmi spread her legs open to reveal the treasure between.

She began with tender kisses along Avalessa’s thighs, worshipping the svelte limbs that had been dancing in front of her eyes for days now, tempting her to run her hands along them even before she had the privilege to live that dream.

Her legs were magic, but the urge to taste her was stronger. She embraced Avalessa’s netherlips with her own, kissing with passion and delving in with her tongue as if seeking to wrestle with the elf’s own. Spending a little time finding the right spots to draw out deeper moans from her lover, Yokïmi eventually followed the signals until her tongue teased aside the tiny hood of flesh over her clit and suckled at the sensitive pearl she uncovered within. Between the moments her lips were closed about it, Yokïmi painted the nub with her tongue, delighting in the quivers that sent rippling through Avalessa and the purrs that emanated from deep in her throat.

Wanting to give her more, Yokïmi stretched her arms all the way around the other woman’s legs and reached in to find her soaking-wet sex. Pairing two fingers on each hand, she slid one in and then the other, alternating the sides from which she probed into the elf’s tight core. Whenever one hand was outside her heat, she used it to squeeze her palms around the firm curve of her ass and stroke out along her spread thighs.

The passionate assault on Avalessa’s senses soon had her moans rising toward release. She ran her fingers along Yokïmi’s sides and back, rubbing deep furrows into her skin and clinging to her as if Avalessa’s life depended on not losing their connection. Her back arched and muscles spasmed as a thrilling orgasm hammered at her soul.

A flood of the elf’s essence called out to Yokïmi, and she split her time between her lover’s pearl and sweeping her tongue to lap up the star elf’s cum. The fae-kin’s taste wasn’t so different from a human’s, though she swore there was a hint of blackberry tang lurking in the elf woman’s cream. Yokïmi’s eager attention returned the favor of keeping her lover’s ecstasy alive until it rendered her utterly spent.

Seething in desperate breaths, Avalessa scrambled her hands around Yokïmi’s legs, coaxing her until her thighs straddled the elf’s face. She then curled her neck until her mouth could reach Yokïmi’s sex, then mirrored her lover’s tender licks and kisses.

Exhaustion was coming fast for both of them. Avalessa’s legs folded up around Yokïmi’s head and shoulders, seemingly desperate to remain folded together. Yokïmi saw no reason to fight that urge. Her limbs already felt like jelly. She simply gave in to the call of gravity. She toppled sideways, grappling Avalessa close with her last remaining strength.

They felt to their sides, heads between each other’s thighs. Their kisses never ended, but faded into the luscious, slow embraces suited to their post-coital bliss.

Once more, Yokïmi was struck with that same wonderful conflict between two opposite desires. Sleeping in that naughty tangle would be so sweet. Yet… sleep would only make the morning come sooner, and her lust for the elf in her arms hadn’t cooled nearly enough to be done.

And so, Yokïmi continued to bathe Avalessa with affection while savoring the same given to her in return. It was pure magic. She wasn’t sure if they would lapse into greater peace or ignite with fresh fire.

But she welcomed it either way.

Chapter 17

Yokïmi came awake to the lovely warmth of Avalessa snuggled up in front of her. Her own hand was slipped under the elf’s arm, cupped around the soft curve of her breast as if it was a small animal she was protecting from an imaginary chill. The room certainly wasn’t cold. They hadn’t even bothered to dig under the blankets, finding all the heat they needed over the night by cuddling against each other.

Though Avalessa’s breathing was slow and even, Yokïmi read that as relaxed rather than asleep. She brushed her fingertips along the other woman’s arm, then down her back. The contented sigh that came from the elf was all the confirmation she needed.

The pads of her fingernails found the border between her bare skin and the tattoos of the animals that were now fully revealed. In the moments between their passion, Yokïmi had found all of them. She hadn’t commented during their love-making, but she hadn’t forgotten what she’d found.

“You mentioned the spider before,” Yokïmi whispered, keeping her voice at a level that respected the quiet solitude they were enjoying. Her hand traced over Avalessa’s left forearm where the white arachnid was kept in it tattoo form. “But you hadn’t said anything about the ermine.” She caressed her way down the elf’s slender right thigh and captured her knee, drawing it upward until she could then touch along her calf where the last of her animal companions were emblazoned.

“You recognized it,” Avalessa said with some small delight. “Most people think Olvra is a ferret or a mink.”

“There was a small family of them living on the castle grounds. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have known. My father insisted on some outdoor training, but it isn’t where I drawn to.” Yokïmi ran her fingers again along the edges where the tattoo met her skin. “I can feel the difference. I didn’t… umm… hurt any of them, did I?” In their more ardent moments, she had scratched her nails along Avalessa’s skin, marking her in more than a few places.

“No,” the elf replied, pressing her back to settle firmly enough against her lover that she could feel Yokïmi’s breasts pressed into her, then wriggled her behind until it was cupped perfectly by the other woman’s pelvis. “They look like they are painted on the skin, but it is a magical effect. Only damage from a magical weapon could harm them.”

“Oh? My fingers aren’t magic? I mean, they aren’t nearly as talented as yours, but I thought you’d starting appreciating them last night,” Yokïmi teased, bumping her pelvis forward playfully against her lover’s firm butt. Her hand wandered back up the elf’s leg, delighting in its lithe perfection yet again. Her touch lightened until it would almost be tickling, then began spiraling toward somewhere far naughtier.

Before the game could go any further, the door cracked ajar. It didn’t open very far, alleviating the two women’s shared concern. The short arms that had to belong to Sylnie reached in and dropped a wadded-up ball consisting of Avalessa’s dress she had discarded in the hallway and her pouches, weapons, and gear that she had left tucked in a corner in the common room before they had gotten wrapped up in their dancing and love-making. Without saying a word, the Cleric withdrew and snapped the door closed.

“I think that was a signal.” Avalessa issued a soft chuckle as her head collapsed back onto the bed. She didn’t make any immediate move to escape the joint snuggle.

“Two signals, I’m afraid,” Yokïmi sighed. “Unless I miss my guess, she doesn’t exactly approve.”

“Hmm,” the elf murmured. “Then you should almost say three signals.”

“Oh?”

“She probably disapproves of us being together as much because I’m an elf as because I’m a woman. Though since we can’t make a half-breed between us, my being an elf is probably less of an issue.”

“Was that supposed to make it better?”

Avalessa let out a soft, sad laugh. “Perhaps not. Then again, not everyone has to approve of everything other people do to be on the same side.”

“Sounds like the voice of experience.”

“After so many decades, even I can pick up a nugget or two of wisdom. It’s nice to have a few people in your circle who see the world nearly the same as you do. That’s where best friends come from.”

“And I’d think the best kind of lovers,” Yokïmi whispered, caressing the other woman’s thigh.

“Mmm. Yeah,” Avalessa purred. She paused to turn her head and place a soft kiss on Yokïmi’s lips, then gave a wicked laugh. “Though a bit of raw lust from a discordant soul can provide a bit of spice, now and then. If you ever get the chance to have sex with a mortal enemy or a fierce rival, I highly recommend it.” Her evil grin mellowed as she met her lover’s eyes. “But believe me, spending your life trying to convince everyone to see the world exactly like you is a good way to fall into hate and bitterness. Right now, all that matters is that Sylnie wants to help us right the wrongs your brother caused. Let the rest go.”

Yokïmi suddenly realized she had no idea how old Avalessa might be. As a star elf, she wouldn’t show much signs of age until well into her eighth century, and wouldn’t be risking death by old age until after she reached the millennium mark. She had a vague sense that her new lover wasn’t overly ancient. Some of the things Avalessa had said about continuing to dodge her responsibilities as a princess and wandering the world on Quests made Yokïmi think of her as being on the younger side, but that was only relative to other elves. That meant she could still be over a century old.

Deciding it was best not to know, she said instead, “But defeating him will take all of us trusting her. And vice versa.”

“We’re willing to have Kharr guarding our backs,” Avalessa pointed out.

“Yeah, but I know what he is and what to expect. The only way he’ll ever surprise me is to be more trustworthy. Sylnie could stab us in the back a lot easier.”

“I’ve traveled with both of them for a few months now. Neither will betray us. Not for something like this. Besides, whatever judgments she might make because of her faith, she’s a good person. Definitely not a hypocrite.”

“Hypocrite?” Yokïmi had no idea why she had used that term. There’s no chance the Cleric of Narrum was going to wag her finger at them and then dive into bed with another woman.

“Unless I miss my guess, she tempted that young bard into her bed last night.”

“So?”

“Well, despite the fun they both had, and the fact they are both humanoids and so their union is blessed by Narrum, I’ll wager she used every spell, herb, or other prevention at her command so a child didn’t take root. That’s not something she has time for while Questing across the world.”

Yokïmi understood. “Narrum’s objection to a union like ours is that it won’t propagate the human race.”

“Right. He’s not about love. He’s about babies. And while I’ve never heard that he’s a prudish god who is against having a bit of sexy fun along the way, unless I’m wrong, Sylnie’s choices to avoid those babies might not be in line with his teachings.”

“And if you’re wrong? She might take a ‘if I get pregnant, then Narrum wills it so and I’ll stop Questing’ stance.”

Avalessa shrugged. “Possible. I’m not a scholar of Narrum’s edicts. I’ve no idea if she would be breaking the rules or merely bending them.” She shrugged. “Either way, like I said, she’s a good person who keeps her word. She’s here on her god’s command to solve this problem, and her god’s own visions told her that she needed you and me with her. If you want to know if you can trust her, believe in that.”

“I guess it makes sense.”

“As long as we don’t throw it in her face, we’ll get along just fine.”

Yokïmi buried her face against the back of Avalessa’s neck, inhaling the floral scent coming off the elf’s hair and not saying anything more. She wasn’t sure it should be her responsibility to soothe the Cleric’s feelings by hiding who she was. But she understood what Avalessa was really trying to say. We’re about to head into a fight for our lives. A fight where we all need to be a team. I want her to accept me, so I might as well do the same and accept her. We don’t need to agree. If we’re going to argue, it can wait until after the deadly threat has passed.

Shaping her lips into a kiss on the nape of the elf’s neck, she sighed, “Guess we should go.”

Avalessa purred at the touch, then turned over and pressed Yokïmi onto her back. “Oh? Why? Just because we respect her choices doesn’t mean we have to be at her beck and call. I didn’t hear anyone promising anyone about when we’d be getting out of here.”

“Is that so?” Yokïmi sighed, happily giving in.

“Mm hmm.” The elf’s mouth found her left breast and used her tongue to bring its tip to hardened attention, aching in that gentle way that made Yokïmi want to moan. Avalessa’s teeth closed on the nipple, her bite awakening a sharp spike of pleasure. It was a sting that Yokïmi was beginning to realize she craved.

As the elf woman’s mouth began to travel lower, Yokïmi wet her lips and sucked in a moan of anticipation. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Not what you did. This is reward for what you’re going to do when I throw my legs over those lips of yours and tell you to keep licking until you’re drinking honey.” With that wicked thought delivered, Avalessa continued her voyage south and didn’t stop until she was slipping her clever tongue between Yokïmi’s tender folds.

All the complications that came with dealing with other people fled from Yokïmi’s mind. She closed her eyes and let herself be swept away in one last shared moment.

*          *          *

When they exited the tavern doors a while later, there was no trace of their recent, decadently erotic pursuits. Avalessa was in her traveling gear, while Yokïmi had already activated her Phantom Body Sheath, which muted the suggestive bounce to all her curves even if not preventing the others from seeing them.

Atiaka was near the entrance to the inn’s stables, handing over the reins of their mule to Parrun. They exchanged a few low words. Whatever the mashashi said had the young man blushing furiously inside a few seconds. With an impish smile, Parrun waggled his fingers at Sylnie, then led the mule toward the edge of town.

Rather than betray any embarrassment, the Cleric wandered by the barkeep, squeezing a final gold coin into his hands. Then, she strolled past the bard and gave him a lewd wink. “Next time I come through, I won’t be in such a hurry to leave. There’s lots more I could teach you.” With a final flip of her hair, she patted him on the behind, picked up her pace, and sauntered for the edge of town.

Kharr was back to his irascible self, gulping down the contents of a mug as if the cure to the throbbing in his head was at the bottom. He let out a brief belch, then jammed the mug into the tavern’s owner’s hands. “Good ale. Won’t kill any of ya. Promise.” He propped his spear over his shoulder and lurched off in the same direction as the others.

Knowing that Avalessa was more than ready, Yokïmi turned her focus on the last of the group. Taliskhan was standing impassively in the sun, seemingly enjoying the heat while watching their antics. “Ready, Master?”

“Are you? The dayss will only get harder.”

Right. Stop checking to see how he’s doing. We’ll be run into the ground long before him. And it’s my family’s graveyard we’re walking into. With a steadying breath, she turned to Yuina, the only one of the village’s new leadership who was there to watch them go. “I forgot to ask yesterday if anyone from Kyrotsu has gone down the river toward the lord’s castle. How close has anyone gotten to it?”

“Rikuto was fishing on the Su’bora downstream from the merging. He hasn’t gone back.”

“Why?”

“Claims the fish were hunting him.”

“How’s that?”

“He said there were vines jutting from the water, looped on branches hanging overhead and dangling down over the water. The ends had what looked like grapes growing from them. He tried to pluck one and his hand stuck to it. Then he was yanked nearly out of the boat when the vine twitched. Luckily, he hadn’t gotten a good grip. He only lost the skin on his finger and thumb.”

Yokïmi’s eyes widened. “That doesn’t sound like anything natural that dwells in these waters.”

“The effectss of the faelapsse,” Taliskhan intoned.

She did the mental calculations, picturing the maps she’d seen in her mind, imagining the point in the river Yuina had described. “That’s more than a day’s walk from the castle. Sounds like it is spreading.”

“As we feared.” Avalessa shook her head. “And the mutations sound like they might be even more intense than a typical faelapse. That entire stretch of wilderness could be corrupted.”

“It’s why we’ve come,” was all Yokïmi could think to say. She looked to Yuina again. “You’ve sent the missives?”

“They left with the first light.”

“May their speed be enough.” She gave the leader a respectful bow. She was close to promising that she would visit again on her way out of the region, but she stopped short. The side of her that was a Kikuchi lady wanted to make the offer, but she wasn’t that person. I don’t want to be that person. With the family gone, the well-being of these people is in their own hands until another lord rightfully claims them. Walking away without making that promise was harder than she thought it should be, but she did it.

Avalessa cast her a sidelong glance, as if guessing at the inner battle she was fighting, but the wayward elven princess said nothing to influence it. She merely led the way onto the path following the river.

None of them had cause to speak for several hours. Only Parrun looked like he might welcome chatting, but even he became somewhat less boisterous when a pair of corrupted birds flew overhead. At first glance they seemed to be vultures, but they exuded a cloud of sulphurous fumes along with a green vapor with each beat of their wings. They also growled like tigers instead of letting out more natural squawks. It confirmed that the twisted creatures weren’t waiting for the region of faelapse to expand before heading out to find their own hunting grounds and cause havoc for the natural species living in the world.

The oppressive silence deepened as they reached the end-point for the En’dyna. It flowed into the Su’bora without much flourish. The two waters merged due to the shape of a narrow valley, not causing so much as a pond. The group halted for the evening meal, then decided to camp for the night. If the fisherman’s tale was to be believed, they were only an hour or two’s walk away from where his encounter had taken place.

Sylnie set about putting together a meal. Kharr roamed out on a hunt for game, while Avalessa conjured both Vespa and Sepha and went scouting to the south to determine if anything nasty might be creeping toward them.

With a great sigh, Parrun tugged at the reins of the mule and said, “I’m going to find a nice field for him to wander in. Cutting him loose now is the only way he’s going to survive. I’ll hide whatever I can’t put into a pack. We can come back for it later.”

Yokïmi didn’t argue, though she was sad to see the animal go. It marked the end of any comfort for her, since she couldn’t so much as sling a pack over her shoulder without the rash setting in. Nor was she going be selfish and ask Parrun or the others to carry anything for her that wasn’t absolutely required. “Thanks for looking after him. He’s been steady for us.”

“Stubborn as a mule. Dependable as a mule. Two old sayings that didn’t come out of nowhere,” Parrun said with a smile. He got the beast moving and disappeared into the forest.

Yokïmi was about to help with establishing the camp when Taliskhan drew her aside. “Come. We have need of ssome practice.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Each time they had halted for the night since leaving the Sanctuary, he had insisted on putting her through an hour of exercises. After the events in the village and now standing on the edge of the faelapse terrain, she’d made the bad assumption that her preparation time was over.

Taliskhan led her to a nearby clearing, out of view from the others. He settled into a ready stance. “Medrulung Kata.”

One of her eyebrows rose. The Medrulung was one of the simplest movement routines she had learned. Flowing into her own easy stance, she made ready.

“Begin.” Her zaskran mentor swept his arm in a long arc, pivoting his rear foot in a motion that would capture an incoming punch and direct an attack off balance.

He wasn’t calling the time, but she followed his lead without difficulty. In their earliest days together, he would click his teeth at a metronome pace. As she became used to his movements, the signals had become less and less necessary.

The slow, smooth flow he had chosen for that evening was a fraction of full combat speed. The idea was to explore each movement to its fullest, remaining perfectly on balance throughout. Speed had come later, after thousands of repetitions, and Taliskhan still routinely returned to the sedate pace so that she could integrate any new lessons she had learned to improve her technique.

As they entered the fourth movement, her mentor spoke. “Have you ssteadied yoursself mentally for what we will find on the morrow?”

“I saw the destruction as I fled.” She didn’t understand the direction of his question.

“When you fled, the faelapssess had only begun to have their influence. After a year of wild magic corruption, nothing will be ssacrossanct.” He pushed both hands palm-out in front of him as if shoving someone, then rolled back over one shoulder and rose effortlessly into a deep kiba-dachi stance.

She was right with him, the pattern of the Medrulung more than familiar to her. She didn’t carry it out with the ease of centuries of practice like he did, but her flow was one of competence verging on mastery.

It left her mind free to consider at what he was hinting. When it came to her, her fluid movements dragged to a halt.

“All of them were there.”

“And all of them vulnerable.” Sensing her interruption, Taliskhan paused and fixed an expectant stare at her.

Taking a grip on her emotions, she quickly did the spin and hand chop she had missed, catching up to his current movement. As she reached his mark, Taliskhan renewed his movements. She determined to match him wherever their conversation led. “There’s no way to tell in what state we’ll find them, is there?”

“When you ssee their facess, it could be in many formss. You need to be ready. Hessitation will cosst you dearly. The otherss will not face the ssame challenge, but they could alsso ssuffer if you cannot adapt.”

“I’d wonder why you waited this long to bring this up, but I think I know.”

“There wass hope you would arrive at thiss posssibility yourself. I already ssaw you preparing yoursself to walk acrosss what wass once a familiar and friendly landsscape. The landss your family owned will be trying to kill you. You’ve come to termss with this. But you weren’t yet ready to accept what elsse thiss impliess.”

She forced herself to carry out the next reversal and capture of a ghost assailant even as she put words to the danger. “The fact that some of these monsters might have the faces of my family.”

“And your friendss. As well the sservants and people of the casstle.”

As they reached the end of the kata, she allowed herself to shudder. A flash of suspicion came to her. “You came to lay Haruto to rest.”

“Yess.”

“Not necessarily by placing her in her burial fire or paying your respects.”

Taliskhan gave her a grim nod. “I will not allow her to be a resstlesss ghoul plaguing thiss world. I owe her more than that, even if it meanss being the one who destroyss whatever remainss of her corporeal form so that her sspirit can be truly freed.”

“Well, this sounds like a pleasant conversation.” Parrun folded his arms and leaned against a tree at the edge of their practice clearing.

Taliskhan leveled one of his glares at the mashashi that suggested he should think carefully about his next words lest they be his last.

Parrun didn’t quite wilt in front of him, but he got quickly to the point. “Kharr’s back with a small deer. We’ve got it cooking along with a couple fish Avalessa’s owl friend pulled out of the river. Should be ready any minute. Looks… umm, well, looks tasty, so… come and get it when you’re done talking about… you know… all this horrible stuff.” He backed away and vanished from sight.

Taliskhan kept staring at the blank space for a long moment after.

Yokïmi said nothing, giving him time. This was his version of resetting his concealed anger so he didn’t squish Parrun upon return to the fire, so it was better to leave him to work through it. She drifted to the edge of the clearing.

Before she made it past the ring of trees, Taliskhan called out, “Do not be sso foolissh as to try and sstop me. Whatever we encounter, even if it lookss like Haruto Kai, you know it won’t be her. It will only be a monsster bred from the fae.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to worry. If the time comes, I won’t stop you. Exactly the opposite. I’ll help you give her the peace she deserves.”

With that, she looped back around toward the campfire. She didn’t hurry, needing a few minutes to be alone. Taliskhan had been right. She hadn’t really faced the possibility that the horrors they were going to encounter would have the faces of people she knew. It was going to feel like she was killing them all over again.

But that was exactly what she was going to have to do. If she didn’t, then their memories would be tainted by the terrifying things they might do as the creatures their corpses had become.

Maybe it won’t happen. The faelapse could have passed them all over. There are living creatures it could have twisted. There are massive boulders pinning down the dead. A whole castle fell on them. Surely there were easier choices for manifesting monsters. Isn’t there some rule where energy… even magical energy… takes the easiest path available unless guided by an intelligence?

She sighed, knowing she wasn’t that fortunate, and that even if such a rule existed for normal energy and elements, magical energy was magic specifically because it broke natural guidelines.

And yet… she wished for it anyway. Because she’d gladly face a hundred trials and a hundred foes before having to stand in front of a horribly twisted version of her mother and burn her to the ground.

Chapter 18

Yokïmi knew it as soon as they crossed over into the reach of the faelapses. The grassy underbrush started to prod at them like small tentacles. Fortunately, the living fronds didn’t have the strength or length to cling to their feet and legs. If they had some sort of contact poison, it wasn’t effective through the other adventurers’ gear nor her Phantom Body Sheath magic.

It did force Avalessa to recall her ocelot into her tattoo form. The animal’s bare paws were sure to be attacked. The elf ordered Sepha to coast well above the trees. It wasn’t natural for the owl, but it kept her away from any other dangers that might be lurking in the forest.

Yokïmi regretted seeing Vespa concealed away. The small wildcat had been roaming near to her since they left camp that morning. A few times, she’d even brushed her fur up against Yokïmi’s leg with a friendly purr. Avalessa’s raised eyebrow and occasional smile suggested that she wasn’t ordering the feline to do so, which meant it seemed to be the ocelot giving her stamp of approval to the connection she had sensed forming between the two women. It was sweet, and Yokïmi wished there was time to give the ocelot the proper petting she deserved for her kindness.

The trees were also changed. Yokïmi noticed the mutations were generally along species lines. All the birch now whistled as the breeze passed among their branches, creating a spooky sort of spectral voice that echoed over the woodland. The pine trees’ needles weren’t only sharpened but had the disturbing tendency to lance off their branches at random intervals. For nearly an hour, they continued to find new variations, but the threat never entered deadly territory.

It was the same with the animals. She caught sight of a porcupine with feathers instead of spines. A small group of rats crawled past with a black slime linking their claws. It was as if their small horde was dragging the slime pool with them, leaving none of it behind. Yokïmi didn’t want to guess at what sort of symbiotic relationship had spawned that pairing. A deer skipped over their trail that had six legs and softly glowing eyes.

The bizarre yet seemingly harmless encounters were enough to remind her that faelapses didn’t always produce lethal monstrosities. The mutations might not survive in the natural world, or might cause a permanent shift in the entire species if they started breeding, but the only certainty was that the changes would trend toward the bizarre.

The unnatural tangles of underbrush receded as they ventured into an area with a more orderly distribution of trees. Yokïmi recognized it immediately. “We’re crossing into my family’s orchards.”

“Mostly apple from the look of them,” Avalessa commented.

“There are other varieties elsewhere, but we’re north of the Su’bora. It’s pretty much all apple trees here.”

Kharr sniffed at the air, then curled his lip as he gave the scattered, hanging red fruit a baleful glare. “I don’t understand humans growing these things.”

“What? Gnolls don’t eat apples?” Parrun asked with a smirk.

“All hyinakin will eat anything.” Kharr’s bared his teeth at the much smaller mashashi. He waved dismissively at the trees. “You can live on these. But why when you can hunt? Humans don’t only eat these stupid things. You savor it. Breed new versions. Make pies from them.” He spat to one side. “What should I expect from a species that cages its prey.”

“Wait till you hear about my distant cousin,” Sylnie snickered. “She had the cutest white piglet as a pet.”

The gnoll looked truly horrified. “Do you not eat these animals? I swear I have tasted pig meat at human tables. It was like wild boar only… fattier.” He shook his head. “Is it not cruel to play with your food like this?”

“Oh, she didn’t eat Dorrie. She was part of the family,” the Cleric said.

“Bet they ate the piglets she popped out later on,” Parrun murmured.

Sylnie didn’t show any signs of hearing him, but Kharr gave the predoran a wide-eyed stare, obviously demanding to know if this was true.

Parrun gave him a happy nod back, all too glad to goad him.

“Humanoids are as bizarre as anything we’ve seen here,” the gnoll hissed.

“Yes. They are. My former Sage master ordered me to make a study of something I found interesting. I made a series of lists. Humanoid pets you can’t eat. Humanoid pets you can eat. Humanoid livestock you don’t make pets. What shocked me most was how short the last list was.”

Yokïmi rolled her eyes, sending Parrun a long-suffering glare. “And you wonder why he decided that your true calling lay outside of the field of Sages and academics?”

“It was only a matter of time before he figured it out,” the mashashi admitted with a grin.

They walked a few minutes further before Sylnie broached the silence again. “I’m surprised to see the fruit growing so well.” She picked a stick off the ground and reached it up to prod at one of the apples that looked well ripened, trying to make it fall so she could inspect it.

The bottom of the apple opened, forming two jaws with massive teeth. The maw snapped, breaking the stick and wrenching it from the Cleric’s loose grip. Realizing it had nothing but wood, the fruit-creature spat out the remains and dropped from its hanging perch. It took what had looked like the surrounding green leaves with it. They reshaped into fluttery versions of bat wings, flapping madly to send the bulbous apple-creature carving through the air. It first swooped left, then reversed and came right back at the half-folk woman with its teeth gnashing in hungry fury.

Caught off-guard, Sylnie let out a startled squeak and dove for the ground, swatting at the odd thing. She struck it, but her arm hit against once of its teeth. It slurred off course and bobbled drunkenly between the trees. She sucked her arm in and hissed as a flow of blood streamed down her skin.

{-7}

Once the scent of her blood spread on the air, dozens of other false-apples shivered to life and launched into the air. Soon, a small swarm of the chomping creatures swirled about the group.

A trio of them swept down on Taliskhan. The zaskran brushed a hand through the air and generated a wind gust that sent them scattering. His reptilian eyes tracked them curiously, trying to decipher their nature.

Kharr was far less academic in his approach, battering one away with the blunt end of his spear, then hacking the tip’s blade into another. The blow cleaved the apple-creature clean in half, revealing its pulpy white flesh. The cut didn’t seem to have taken any more effort than chopping through a normal fruit.

(-12)

* Dead *

The gnoll laughed at the kill, then instantly shifted to a snarl as one of them latched onto his shoulder with a wicked bite. The teeth barely had the strength to get through the leather hide that made up his clothing to sink into his skin, but it latched on as if it would never let go.

{-8}

Parrun was the one to help him out. He whipped one of his knives end over end to pick the creature right off the gnoll’s skin. The blade transfixed it, and the momentum of the steel tore it apart, leaving only the teeth behind.

(-23)

* Dead *

“Hey!” Kharr barked as he realized how close the throw had come.

“Next time I’ll let it eat you!” Parrun sniped back, rolling away from another of the creatures diving toward him.

Avalessa descended on Sylnie, encouraging the half-folk woman onto her knees so she could shroud the Cleric more effectively. Spinning left and right, the elf whipped one of her chakrams at any apple-bats that darted in their general direction. She cut two of them in half with precise shots, rebounding the disks off the knots in trees and back into her hand. Her third sliced its target out of the air but missed the reflection angle she was going for and ended up lodged in a tree.

(-38)

* Dead *

(-35)

* Dead *

(-36)

* Dead *

“Sepha, dive attack!” cried the elven AnimalMystic.

From above the branches, her snowy owl struck with her talons leading. The sharp claws clenched onto the apple body and crushed it into mush before the owl’s beat a few rapid times and climbed back out of sight.

(-9)  (-9)

* Dead *

At almost the same time as Kharr, Yokïmi discovered the fragility in the creatures. The Ekanshin style didn’t make use of many hard strikes, but neither Haruto nor Taliskhan would have considered her training complete without a solid grounding in those Skills. She chopped into one with the bottom of her palm, but she snagged herself on one of its teeth.

{-3}

The nasty cut didn’t stop her from carrying through with enough force to smash open the fruit-creature like an egg. It spattered everywhere, the hard teeth clicking off her magically-sheathed skin and a nearby tree trunk.

{-18}

* Dead *

Noticing another of them flapping furiously on a beeline toward Parrun’s back, she rushed to intercept using a spinning kick to take it out of the air. Her heel blasted that one apart, but left her a little exposed.

{-22}

* Dead *

Whatever passed for senses with the creatures told them that she was vulnerable. Three of them raced in, eager for their first taste of flesh.

Taliskhan floated into the space in front of her. He jabbed with both hands, using the first two fingers on each. His claws speared two of the apple-bats, deftly coming in at the right angle so that he never touched the harder teeth that might do him injury. His tail batted the last of them away, right into the path of Kharr.

(-27)

* Dead *

(-25)

* Dead *

[-5]

The gnoll didn’t even bother with his weapon, merely bringing his two palms together and crushing the apple-bat between them like eradicating a wasp, accepting the mild discomfort of the teeth grinding into his palm.

{-19}

* Dead *

With her mentor having cleared her immediate threats, Yokïmi returned the favor by catching another aiming to take a chunk out of Taliskhan’s back. Taking his object lesson about staying away from the teeth, she grasped hold of the apple-bat’s leafy wings and whirled it about and smashed it against the wood of the nearest tree.

{-15}

* Dead *

“Not making me learn the hard way today, Master?” she dared to jest, breathing a little hard as she hunted for another enemy.

“We need to presserve all the sstrength we can.” the zaskran replied without letting on that he’d heard her attempt at humor. “Attrition iss not an acceptable sstrategy today.”

That might be the closest he’ll ever come to saying he’s worried about our safety. I’ll take it.

Her focus was yanked back into the moment by one of the apple-bats angling toward Avalessa. The elf had just finished cutting one down with her last chakram and hadn’t managed to retrieve it. They were too far away for her to get in the way before the creature would be on them.

Instead, she called on one of her simplest spells. Normally, she wouldn’t use it in combat since it did almost no damage, but the creatures were weak. She crackled out the power word and funneled the energy for the Fire Spark across the space. Only a heartbeat before the creature chewed into the elf Mystic’s hair from behind, it exploded from the burst of magical energy.

Avalessa closed her eyes as the mush sprayed over her, then grunted out a soft, “Eww.”

Still huddled beneath her, Sylnie wiped off the gunk that slopped onto her face and glowered at Yokïmi. “Thanks?”

Even as they dealt with the mess, Parrun and Kharr finished destroying the last of the apple-bats. Both had taken a few more scratches and bites, but none of their injuries looked more than superficial.

They hadn’t yet caught their collective breaths when a mournful cry carried on the wind. “Please… help…” It was weak, as if the originator had been fighting for hours to remain alive and was coming to the end of their strength.

Yokïmi sprinted off in that direction, fearing that her own group’s presence which caused the apple-bats to begin attacking might have unknowingly unleashed the same mischief or some other terror on someone else creeping through the transformed orchard.

Dodging around another apple tree with branches that had turned into biting serpent ends, she arrowed toward this new horror. With every step closer, the pleas for aid increased. One thready, failing voice became two and then four. She came into view and found that this one was spawned from a yellow willow tree. It had been planted amidst the orchard as both a landmark and rest area for the workers. Now the tree that had once provided shade had become a vicious snare.

More than a dozen orchard workers were hanging from the drooping branches. Each was trapped by at least three points, most of them having willow fronds curled around an arm, a leg, and their necks in a choke hold that might explain their weak cries. They all moved with lethargic agitation, again speaking to Yokïmi of people who had been struggling to get free but were on the cusp of failing due to fatigue.

Parrun stopped by her side, letting out a soft yowl of despair. “How do we even get up there to cut them loose without getting caught ourselves?”

“They are good as dead,” Kharr growled. “We dare not get ourselves killed trying. We go around. Leave them to their fate.”

“What if it was you?” Sylnie hissed.

“I would not have gone so close!” the gnoll snarled back.

Sylnie glanced over at Avalessa. “Your chakrams can slice those fronds without effort, right?”

“Depends on what magic is invested in the tree. But likely yes. The adamantine edges could cut them even if they were steel cables,” the elf confirmed, narrowing her eyes as she plotted her first throws.

Yokïmi spared a look toward Taliskhan, wondering at which ideas he was leaning toward supporting.

And found him looking back at her instead. “Remember what we sspoke about lasst night.”

“Last night?” She didn’t immediately understand. As kind as she liked to believe she was to the people and servants who lived on her father’s lands, she hadn’t been involved enough to know even a fraction of them by face or name. “I can’t see them to influence my choice.”

“Be not sso literal. Your heart iss a kind one, sso you are acting like you did back in the town, attempting to ssolve thiss problem for your father’ss people.”

Which is to say I feel responsible for them. She caught on to that much fairly quickly, but still wasn’t sure where he was leading her.

“Yokïmi.” Avalessa whispered at her, reading the indecision that the Curse made plain on her crystalline face. “What are you thinking?”

She held up a palm in both directions, asking the group to hold the line as her mind chewed away at what Taliskhan was trying to push her into seeing. Her eyes clenched shut, trying to block out the world.

Part of her wanted to yell at him to simply tell her since lives were on the line. The worst of that was knowing he wouldn’t be playing these games if time mattered. Almost as bad was the certainty that if she demanded the answer, he would probably give it. And I’ll have failed his challenge. I’d rather have spent the last year roaming alone in the wilderness, starving and…

Her eyes blinked open. “Ai ya, how could I be so short-sighted. I missed all the signs.”

“What are you saying?” Parrun asked sharply, eager to take some sort of action.

“The magic was cast a year ago. Long enough for my whole life to change. Long enough for Avalessa and Sylnie to travel halfway across the world at the behest of their gods and for Kharr to crawl out of whatever hole he’s from.”

The gnoll bared his teeth, but he didn’t snipe back, obviously thinking about what she was saying.

Avalessa added to the idea. “This is a scene you’d think to find only days after the event. As if they were caught unawares by the faelapse and then kept trying to rescue each other.”

“And ever since, it might be normal to find a lone traveler newly snared in the tree. But not this many all at once. It doesn’t make sense.” Yokïmi let out a deep sigh. “These people are already dead. I’ve no idea how they are calling to us, but it’s a trap.”

“That doesn’t mean we can just walk away,” Sylnie objected. “The souls of these people might be caught up in the magic. You’ve said your father held to Narrum’s beliefs and upheld His edicts on your family’s lands. These people deserve to ascend to his paradise.”

Yokïmi had no wish to risk her life to see the Human God’s paradise filled. But like with the town, these were her family’s serfs. They did deserve better than to be left to rot in this twisted tree’s clutches.

“Parrun, I know you have your Fire Bolt. Do any of the rest of you have fire magic?”

Kharr shook his head. “Not magic, though I’ve a few small jugs of lantern oil I can toss.”

“I can call on Narrum to send Cleansing Fire. It only works on things that are Infernal, Corrupt, Psychotic, or Deviant on their Alignment scales. I don’t know if this fae tree has any sort of sentience. If it doesn’t, only the Corruption score matters. But I’m willing to bet this willow is sick enough to be burned.” Sylnie sounded more than confident.

Yokïmi could imagine moments when she might not agree with the Cleric’s assessment on such things, but she had little trouble trusting in this tree being considered on the darker side of the Purity/Corruption scale. None of the others offered any other powers.

“That should be enough,” she said, hoping she wasn’t being overly optimistic. “I will unleash my own magic to cut into its trunk. Avalessa, I want you to join me. Use your chakram to deepen the cuts I’m going to make. We’re aiming to cut the tree off at the narrowest point along its trunk just before the first fork.”

Shifting to the next two, she went on, “Parrun and Sylnie will use their fire magic to light up the fronds and leaves. Spread the fire wide to weaken it. Once we cut it to the ground, hopefully it will burn up.”

“And us?” Kharr growled.

“If my master agrees, you’ll join Taliskhan standing in defense of us. Once we unleash the magic or if the tree topples, it will attack us. It has to be warding off the decay of those people for a reason. I think they are going to come after us. You’ll need to hold them at bay. Once we’re done, we’ll join you in helping destroy them all.”

“Fighting the dead…” Kharr spat, clearly hating the taste of the idea, but not rejecting the task.

Yokïmi paused to get a solemn nod from her zaskran master that he would join in forming the shield. As soon as he did, she heard a soft chime from her orb from where it drifted among the nearby trees. It surprised her, but she didn’t have time to summon it to find out why.

Instead, she signaled for all of them to take up their positions. Once sure they were ready, she instigated by conjuring her Razor Beam and slashing it into the side of the trunk. She tried to drill it sideways in preparation for taking a wedge-shaped chunk out of it.

(-89)

Yokïmi winced as the effort of casting the Low-Level spell took its toll. Her Tolerance was at 37 after the latest increases, and the effort of channeling the magical energy was down to 15 with her Talent at Level 2. The sapping effect left her a touch weak, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

She cursed that she had darted toward this battle without gathering at least a couple spell components to carry in her fists. Being so reckless meant she had to fall back on her ChiKiln Technique. The intense discomfort of scorching the insides of her body to generate the magic wasn’t natural, and she knew 25 PDP’s worth of harm had just been done until she had time to recover them. That was nearly a third of her current 79 full-health PDP total.

And I’m not even done yet. She banished the dark amusement and got herself ready to cast the same spell again.

Avalessa winged her first chakram at it, chopping into the far side. She wasn’t able to hit it flat on, as that would only result in the circular blade biting in and sticking. The angle she used took a small chunk out, but allowed it to reflect to two other apple trees and return to her hand. In the space of that trip, she launched two more on the same back, setting up a chain-cutting process. Each throw bit a little deeper, forcing her to make small adjustments, but she was up to the challenge at the start. As soon as the first one was back, she sent it slashing in again.

(-29)  (-28)  (-28)  (-30)  (-31)  (-29)

Parrun finished weaving his Fire Bolt. The fiery missile lashed deeply into the boughs of the tree, brushing against several other fronds and spreading the flames over a wider area. It was a living tree, and not particularly dry, so even the magical flames had lower initial impact and were then slow to spread.

{-43}

* Burning *

{-1}

* Burning *

{-1}

* Burning *

{-1}

But then Sylnie cut loose with her far more impressive magic, using the Divine might of her god. A silvery ball of fire hurled from her hand and smashing into the upper branches. It burst apart and spread like wildfire. Where Parrun’s had flickered weakly, hers clawed about like a living thing. Yokïmi swore she heard the tree actually shriek in pain. With each passing second, the fire spread further and continued to cause more and more damage.

{-159}

* Burning *

{-10}

* Burning *

{-11}

* Burning *

{-12}

Not wanting to let up, Yokïmi gritted her teeth stubbornly against the incoming pain, then summoned a second Razor Beam spell. The glittering pink ray slashed into the trunk. Her whole body shook as she dipped so deeply into the well of her physical Tolerance, running the available points down to nearly nothing while hacking another 25 PDP off her inner reserve. The mark she made on the branch wasn’t nearly as neat as the first, but she managed to make them meet so that a sizeable chunk fell out and onto the ground as if she had hacked away like a lumberjack. As she finished, she fell to her knees, gasping for breath.

(-95)

“More fire! Keep up the pressure!” she cried to the others.

Avalessa kept her weapons chewing away at the opposite side of the wedge. Parrun called on his own inner reservoirs, managing another Fire Bolt though it left him looking a little woozy as well. With the holy fire already crackling, this time his own had better impact on the branches that were being leeched of their water and becoming dry.

{-54}

* Burning *

{-3}

* Burning *

{-3}

Sylnie called out, “Help me release these souls from their unnatural prison, Divine Master!” and then cast another of her silver fire orbs into the leaves.

{-162}

* Burning *

{-13}

* Burning *

{-14}

* Burning *

{-15}

By then, the fae-twisted willow had endured more than enough to know that its trap had failed. Writhing about without any need for wind, it began to unleash the monstrous remnants of the people it had snared in its fronds. At first, the tree lowered the former humans down. By the end, it merely let go and let them drop to the ground where they landed with ungainly force, but rose to their feet as if the drop hadn’t done them any damage.

The fae creatures that had once been people turned toward the group. They moved as individuals, seemingly not under the active control of the willow. But they were certainly doing its bidding, swarming at its enemies. Their eyes were sunk into their sockets as if squished by thumbs, but it didn’t impact on their ability to see where they were going. Their flesh hadn’t been eaten away by insects or rot, but their skin sagged like all the muscles and fat had been sucked out from within.

Yet they moved with all the speed they had in life. Rushing toward the pair standing in their way, the creatures’ mouths gaped open, emitting feral hisses and showing teeth that had been sharpened into jagged points. When the first pair reached Taliskhan, they grabbed at him rather than raking with their fingernails, trying to latch on to drag the zaskran into reach of the tree.

Taliskhan wasn’t about to allow the ghouls that sort of power over him. He pressed his palms toward them, conjuring a wind strong enough to bring four of the creatures to a staggering stop. He then chopped horizontally with one hand, sending a knife-sharp wave at them. The arc of yellow energy sliced through their heads at the jawline, cleaving what remained of their brains in two.

* Stunned *

* Stunned *

* Stunned *

* Stunned *

(-72)  (-79)  (-79)  (-74)

The half-headless ghouls recovered from the wind and started toward him again. With only the bottom part of their jaws intact, the hiss emerging from the holes in their necks now had a gurgling quality to them.

Taliskhan’s reptilian pebbled lips actually creased in what could be interpreted as a frown as he took in the results. The damage tags were hardly on par with such deadly attacks to the head, and none of them had Critical Wound markers on them. Worse yet, it didn’t seem to have killed them, either.

Having witnessed the less than expected results, Kharr took a different tactic: brute force. Taliskhan had taken the majority of the first line of attackers, leaving him with only two to block. Instead of leading with his spear’s tip, he reversed it and smashed the haft into the top of one ghoul’s head with all his formidable strength. A normal weapon would probably have cracked. His survived, allowing the blow to drive home as heavily as a war hammer. It collapsed the ghoul’s spine, caving the head down between its shoulders and driving it to its knees.

[-82]

* Stunned *

Once again, there was neither Critical Wound nor Crippled markers that spilled off the ghoul as there would be from a typical, living foe. The creature was briefly shaken, but it seemed more like it was simply learning to function with its new body rearrangement. Reduced to a waddling gait, it still reached out to seize hold of the gnoll’s nearest arm.

The second ghoul was faster, and had already leapt onto Kharr’s other arm. It sank its jagged teeth into his bicep, but not for any effort to eat him. Latching on like a dog, it used the bite to weaken its target.

* Hobbled: Mild *

Unfortunately, its target was a massive gnoll who wasn’t so easily dragged. His eyes bulged in fury. Rather than fighting the squat ghoul he had half-broken, he dropped his spear and grabbed the creature. He swung his bitten arm around the ghoul gnawing on him, then crushed the two together in front of his body. His massive arms crunched them so hard that bones could be audibly heard breaking. He then dropped to the ground, bearing them under his huge body weight to cause more damage.

* Ensnared *

* Crushed *

[-32]  [-34]

* Tripped *

* Crushed *

[-32]  [-34]

The fall jerked the ghoul’s teeth free of him. Kharr reared back and began raining frantic, double-handed smashes down on the pinned ghouls. Anything he saw with any sort of structure received blunt force damage. Skulls. Shoulders. Chests. He kept pounding until there was nothing left but pulp and the cursed things finally stopped twitching and the Dead tags emerged.

[-29]  [-28]  [-30]  [-26]  [-25]  [-27]  [-28]  [-31]  [-29]  [-30]

* Dead *

* Dead *

“So they can die!” the gnoll howled out and began searching for another.

The victory didn’t do much to boost Yokïmi’s spirits. She’d already sapped so much of her own strength, unsure if she could even stand against one of these things and live. Taliskhan didn’t look to be in any danger, but the zaskran had already been forced to change his tactics.

Having finished her fire attacks, Sylnie let out a fierce battle cry and conjured both her spectral armor and hammers. Stepping up next to Taliskhan, she intercepted three of the ghouls that had been hooking around to strike at the group’s flank. With the small size of the target she represented, the ghouls didn’t stoop to bite at her. They merely reached with their claws, only to find their hands and the arms smashed into crumpled messes by her flailing hammers guided by her steely will.

[-21]  [-20]

* Crippled: Both Hands - Severe

[-19]  [-21]

* Crippled: Both Hands – Severe

[-22]  [-19]

* Crippled: Both Hands - Severe

While she blockaded one flank successfully, Kharr’s brute force tactics cost him in the ability to stop the faster ghouls from curling around the side. He grabbed two more and began to break them apart, but two got by his reaching arms.

Avalessa saw the danger coming. “Yokïmi, get behind me!” She finished two more chakram throws at the tree, this time aiming to lodge them in as deeply as she could to do maximum damage instead of merely chipping away. She then caught the two returning to her and spun to intercept the ghouls closing in on them. She didn’t throw her weapons, having seen that a single strike wasn’t going to do much against these things.

Shielding the path in toward Yokïmi and Parrun, she used the chakram as circular daggers, scything into the ghouls’ limbs and necks, severing them one after another in an attempt to cut the creatures to pieces quickly.

(-28)

* Crippled: Arm – Permanent *

(-31)

* Crippled: Hand – Permanent *

(-34)

* Crippled: Leg – Permanent *

(-27)

* Crippled: Hand – Permanent *

The elf Mystic couldn’t chew them up fast enough. Both ghouls recklessly ignored their missing limbs and grasped hold of her legs. They sank their teeth into her, both at calf level. The pain and their weight tripped her up.

{-21}  {-29}

* Tripped *

* Ensnared *

Awkward without all their limbs but using their body weight to malicious effect, the ghouls began to drag the elf toward the willow.

Yokïmi whirled to grab hold of Parrun’s shoulder and commanded, “I don’t know what else you can do, but kill that cursed tree!”

With that done, she launched herself at the ghouls, not wanting to think about the fact that with her current PDP, receiving one of those bite attacks might kill her. But she couldn’t let Avalessa be hauled off to become one of them or to be burned alive under the tree’s branches.

She jumped right over the elf, coming down with her heel leading in a vicious kick on one ghoul’s forehead.

[-37]

The impact caved in its skull and jerked its head off Avalessa’s leg, breaking its jaw so it hopefully couldn’t sink the teeth in again. She directed her next attack to the thing’s arm hooked around the elf’s leg, shattering the weak humerus and stealing the limb’s strength.

[-32]

* Crippled: Arm – Acute *

Realizing in its pulped brain that it needed to deal with this new threat or it would never reach the tree, the ghoul rolled and swiped at her with its other, undamaged arm. Its hand had already been hacked away by Avalessa, but it clubbed with its forearm, causing itself as much damage as it caused her.

[-17]

The arm smacked into Yokïmi’s hip, and her magically-induced fragility made the bruising impact far worse than it would have been if she was in full health. She didn’t think her bones suffered any cracks, but her entire side went numb and her leg cramped up until she could barely move it. She suspected a Crippled tag was probably rising from her head right then.

Staggering back, she tried to lure the ghoul away from Avalessa. It worked. The slavering creature crawled after her with only its handless arm and one leg working. Without even a working jaw, she had no idea what it would do if it caught her, but that didn’t stop the broken ghoul from pursuing her in a way sure to cause her nightmares.

Use its power against it, she hissed at herself. Stop acting like Kharr and remember your training! She pushed herself to look for a different type of opening. Going for a kick to shatter another of its limbs might work, but if she did one thing wrong, it might get in a strike of its own and bash in her head.

The answer came to her, and she slowed down to give the monster its chance. The ghoul fell for it, lunging as she let it get within range. But she had allowed it, and thus she was able to anticipate the swing of its arm. She made no effort to block the power of it, instead rolling back and adding the ghoul’s momentum to her own. Planting a foot near its belly, she kicked out hard and launched it into a patch of underbrush back by one of the apple trees.

The wriggling vines were long enough there to have real grappling power. A normal human might have been able to rip free, but the ghoul was far too weakened. It struggled until at last the vines managed to tear its limbs and head right off its torso and suck them down toward the dirt to be absorbed.

Meanwhile, Avalessa had been relieved of one of her foes. Recovering from the bad fall she’d taken, she clenched at her sole remaining chakram and brought it slicing down on the ghoul fighting with her. The creature didn’t have the power to muscle her anywhere alone, though it was too set in its ways to do anything else. Her first hacking attack cut open its head to stop the pain of its bite, and she then proceeded to cut it to quivering pieces.

(-21)  (-22)  (-21)  (-23)  (-20)  (-24)

* Dead *

Parrun had taken Yokïmi’s orders to heart. Moving more deliberately, looking like he was working at the very limits of his own magical capacity, he cast a final version of his Fire Bolt. Instead of sending it high into the already burning branches, he aimed it right at the weak point caused by Yokïmi and Avalessa’s joint attacks. The magical arrow thocked into the wood and spread its fire right into the exposed heartwood.

{-62}

* Burning *

{-7}

* Burning *

{-7}

A huge cccrrraaaaccckk echoed over the clearing as the structural integrity of the fae-willow finally surrendered to the multiple attacks. The tree groaned and tumbled with a crash into the dirt, rattling a couple other apple trees that it was close enough to brush against on its way down.

“Yes!” Parrun threw up his arms, bouncing on his toes with cackling glee.

As soon as the tree’s trunk was severed, the ghouls grew unfocused. They didn’t instantly falter or collapse, but the purposeful service to the willow that had given them their unnatural life vanished. When the group members struck them, they instinctively fought back, but it was a confused sort of self-preservation that guided them. The final few were soon destroyed.

Taliskhan turned in slow circles, his sharp eyes hunting everywhere. A dozen of the ghouls lay strewn around him, cut to pieces by his power. “I believe that iss all of them.”

As the last one fell, Yokïmi heard another chime come from her orb. For the second time, she ignored it for now. She ambled over to Avalessa’s side as quickly as her cramping leg would allow. Going to her knees, she ran tender fingers to the cuts on her lover’s legs. “Are you alright?”

“Are you asking me or my legs?” The elf issued the jest in a low enough whisper that it would stay between them. She winced, and her humor gained a pained edge. “I’m afraid they won’t be able to wrap around you for a while.”

“Oh, how shall I ever survive?” Yokïmi fixed her with a glare, but she couldn’t hold it, far too relieved to know the other woman wasn’t so bad off that she couldn’t joke around. “I’ll call for Sylnie.”

“Thanks,” Avalessa replied, her relief genuine. Then, her eyes focused a little harder on Yokïmi. “You’re trying to cloak how much pain you’re in. Failing miserably at it, too.”

“My magic took a lot out of me. I’ll be fine.” She searched for Sylnie, but saw the half-folk woman was already deep in a healing magic trance leaning over Kharr. The gnoll had taken the worst of the bites because of his blunt method for dealing with the ghouls.

She didn’t have a chance to contemplate interrupting her when Taliskhan appeared across from her. “I need you to concentrate.”

“On what?” she wondered, not thinking to question the need since he had voiced it.

“Your levelss are sstill low enough that you’ve likely gained one from the lasst two fightss.”

“I heard two chimes,” she confirmed, not thinking twice about confessing such things to him. “One before and one after the battle.”

“Conflict can teach many lesssonss, but sso too can engaging one’ss mind. Doing sso now might produce an important ressult.”

“How?”

“You’ve learned that the pathwayss we follow are not sset in sstone. That each persson will receive bonussess and abilitiess in differing orderss.”

Yokïmi nodded. “Depending on chance, with more powerful ones being less likely to be granted by the gods.”

“Thiss is well put, for it would have been an error to sspeak of it ass random chance. In what you can call their wissdom or the meddling nature of the games they play with uss, the oddss of gaining a certain benefit is altered depending on your need, your mindsset, your dessiress, and many other things. If you are ignorant of the choicess, then you have little chance to influence the outcome. And there are limitss. No amount of wisshing for an Epic-level power will give it to you at your current low level.”

“I understand. Then what do you want me thinking on?”

“There iss a common power among those Bellatir who have learned to Burn their PDP for magical energy: Chi Healing. Quite ssimply, it linkss the rate that you recover from magically deprived injuriess to your physsical oness. Cutss that could normally take weekss to fully mend can vanissh in hourss.”

She didn’t need him to explain why that would be an incredible boon. “You’re right. If there’s a chance I might obtain that sort of ability, I should focus on it. How does it work?”

“There are never any certaintiess. But to increasse your chancess, you sshould enter a sstate of meditation before opening your orb.” Taliskhan held up a single finger with each point he made. “Hold in your mind the benefit it would bring to your life. Weave in the critical way it could help in your Quest. The more sspecific you can be, the more likely you will receive it. Healing physsical injuries will keep your PDP available for magical usse. Focuss on how that can ssave your life and the livess of thosse around you sshould you need to casst a sspell in an emergency.”

“Good advice, though I feel a little self-serving saying it,” Avalessa offered with a small smile.

“Do we have time for this?” Yokïmi asked. “My Meditation Skill is not very high. It will take me quite a while to achieve a deep enough state to really unlock my need in a meaningful way to influence the chances granted by the gods.”

“While it iss your choice,” Taliskhan began, gesturing first at Avalessa and then over at the others who were all mending their wounds, “think on thiss. Your masshasshi friend, the Cleric, and you have all expended what magic you have. Both the gnoll and your elven friend here are injured. Approaching the casstle at thiss time would be foolissh. We are sstill north of the river, which providess a natural barrier againsst what we might find roaming about the center of the faelapsse eventss, if only a meager one. Thiss iss a wisse time to resst.”

When Yokïmi risked a look at Avalessa, she found the elf nodding in agreement, but after a careful glance at the powerful zaskran, she cautioned, “We need to attempt rest, but how deeply can we surrender to sleep with the dangers of the fae surrounding us?”

“I have ssufficient sstrength to watch over you all while you rebuild your inner resservoirss.”

Yokïmi didn’t dare laugh, once again hearing the subtle arrogance in the helpful comment.

But the zaskran wasn’t Avalessa’s master, and she dared to point out, “I’m not too proud to say that we’re going to rely on you to get through this. The dangers are far worse than I anticipated. Can we be sure this is not your pride telling you that you do not need rest?”

Taliskhan’s stoic expression betrayed the faintest humor. “How would I know, Lady Elf, until it iss too late?” That trace of levity fled. “I have experienced ssome ssurprissess today, but my poolss of power remain deep. I will watch over you while you all explore the new abilitiess granted by our victory and then refressh yoursselvess with ssleep. Then we can face the greater dangerss of tomorrow with renewed purposse.”

“Camping in dangerous territory without having to take a watch?” Avalessa chuckled. “Hard to say no to an offer like that. I’ll tell the others if you want to get on with your meditation.”

Yokïmi smiled. “Thanks. I’m going to need all the time I can get.”

“Come with me,” Taliskhan said. “While the otherss are ssettling down, I can guide you through the firsst sstepss like we have done in the Ssanctuary. It iss the better way to find the right depthss. You will only have one chance at thiss until you earn another Bellatir Level.”

Over where the others were continuing to mend their wounds, Yokïmi saw the elven Mystic delivering the idea and the offer from Taliskhan. All of them looked more relieved than anything, the fear of carrying on in such a weak state no doubt looming on all their minds.

Sylnie let out a deep sigh. “A fine thing. I’d like to find the time to say a blessing over these troubled souls we’ve freed. Narrum is no doubt well pleased. I heard the note that tells me his reward is waiting for me.”

Parrun pumped a fist in the air, crowing, “I heard a chime as well. Can’t wait to see where I can juggle those points into.”

Yokïmi found herself wondering as well. Even if he had gained enough points for a Wizard Level despite the lack of a mentor, she could hardly see him investing further on that path. It would be useful to improve his magic, but it wouldn’t be true to him finding a new way for himself.

She didn’t press either of them any further, giving them their status privacy. She could hardly believe how much she’d let slip to others in the group. She’d gone her whole life without saying more than a few dozen words about her status. Even when her noble tutors had been instructing her in all the different elements of her orb status, she had taken in their lessons without offering any of her own specifics back. Yet if either Taliskhan or Avalessa asked, I would gladly tell them anything they wanted to know. And I’ve already confessed a lot to Parrun.

Resolving to keep tighter rein on her private details, she left the rest of the group to their own growth and rest. She followed her mentor to a patch of dirt untouched by the altered fae-grass where she could fold herself into a meditative lotus position and remain there undisturbed for as long as she needed.

Taliskhan mirrored her pose, their knees just shy of touching. “Hear my voice. Hear itss ssteady cadence. Follow it into the depthss of your mind…”

Giving in to the hypnotic power, Yokïmi felt her breathing deepen. Felt the fear-ridden energy coursing through her veins dissipate. The idea of relaxation that had seemed impossible at first became less daunting. A pink mist suffused her whole mind and carried her away from her aching body and floated at the gateway to other realms. She didn’t yet have the magic to delve deeply into the astral plane, the web of interconnected dreams, nor the mental pathways that would serve as her connection to the minds of others. But this tranquil place inside was the point that would be key to using them one day.

This was her center. And it was here she could find the focus to potentially shape her future.

*          *          *

Yokïmi emerged from the vault of her mind to the sound of near-silent nature. What would have been calming anywhere else nearly ruined the state of tranquil focus she had achieved. In this area, perfect stillness would mean a new faelapse had occurred, and meant a new terror might be coming for them.

But a soft breeze kissed her cheek and she caught the far-off rippling of the river water. The rustle of leaves wasn’t entirely natural, since most of the apple trees were mutated variants of themselves, but at least they were audible, signaling they weren’t about to be further transformed into something worse.

She caught sight of the others, all huddled close by. It was different than most of the camps they had made on their trek from the Sanctuary. They were companions out of necessity for the Quest. While they had come to tolerate each other and respect each other’s Skills, true friendship hadn’t been cultivated among them. Yet here among the corrupted orchard, they had bedded down within arms’ reach, ready to spring into a circular defense if Taliskhan woke them to fight. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d happily join them soon for the same sense of mutual safety.

But she had a task to do first, and she had no idea how long her focused thoughts would last. Without further delay, she summoned her orb and sought out the opportunities she’d earned.

Gaining levels wasn’t the only reason that the orb could chime. Both Quests and Impactful Moments caused the same sort of notification. She assumed there could be more types of massive changes that would demand her attention. However, this time, it was exactly what she had hoped to see. Green [+] markers glowed out at her by her Bellatir, ChiKiln, and Sorcerer Levels. Even better, her two key power abilities had risen higher. She checked those first.

* Channel Energy from Components – Talent now level 3 *

* Burn PDP for Magical Energy – Technique now level 2 *

Since it had been the real cap on her magic, she selected the Talent first.

Talent: Channel Energy from Components: Level 3

-  This is the fundamental process that enables magic to work without harming a practitioner. The energy for supernatural effects must come from some source. If material components are not linked to the spell, the spell will fail and could do damage to the practitioner as it does.

-  Channeling limits are linked to individual Resilience scores: Physical Spells to Tolerance, Emotive Spells to Stability, Mental Spells to Willpower, Soul Spells to Ego.

-  Current channeling limits:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap Resilience 3 points.

• Low difficulty spells sap Resilience 12 points.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap Resilience 30 points.

• High difficulty spells sap Resilience 65 points.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap Resilience 160 points.

• Superior difficulty spells sap Resilience 410 points.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap Resilience 900 points.

• Epic difficulty spells sap Resilience 4200 points.

• Divine difficulty spells sap Resilience 9000 points.

-  Current Resilience refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 8 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 16 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 22 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 50 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 75 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 100 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Talent reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

A small, regretful sigh escaped her. She supposed she’d always wish for more. And she hadn’t had time to consider the other types of magic she could master to expand her pool. Her Tolerance could be entirely depleted, but if she knew a few Mind, Emotive, or Soul-based spells, she could continue to be effective. So long as I could get my hands on the right materials to power them. I can’t power a Soul spell with PDP.

She supposed she should be excited. The new drop and her recent increases to Tolerance put Moderate spells now within her reach. Casting one would sap nearly all her magical strength, but it opened new possibilities, including the lovely idea of Invisibility. First, I’ll need to learn the spells. That’s for another day.

With those thoughts put to rest, she opened the details for her Technique to see how it had grown.

Technique: Burn PDP for Magical Energy: Level 2

-  This is the fundamental process that enables a practitioner to burn Physical Damage Points instead of material components to produce magical energy. Unlike the physical pain endured during a failed spell, this process can be controlled, improved, and streamlined.

-  PDP can only be used to power spells in the physical domain. Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based magic utilize other Techniques that must be mastered separately.

-  Trivial spells are commonly powered by ambient material components. However, they can draw upon PDP if the ChiKiln requires, such as in a sterile environment.

-  Current channeling costs:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap 1 PDP.

• Low difficulty spells sap 20 PDP.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap 40 PDP.

• High difficulty spells sap 90 PDP.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap 260 PDP.

• Superior difficulty spells sap 550 PDP.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap 1100 PDP.

• Epic difficulty spells sap 5500 PDP.

• Divine difficulty spells sap 11000 PDP.

-  Current magically-burned PDP refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 12 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 25 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 40 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 70 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 110 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 140 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Technique reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

She fixed those details in her mind, using them to refresh the power of her yearning to gain the Chi Healing power her master had described. She’d taken somewhere around 25 PDP injuries against the apple-bats and the ghouls. The bruise on her hip still ached and would continue to do so for days if Sylnie didn’t grace her with some healing magic. Gaining some measure of healing ability would mean new independence. It would be similar to her selection of Sorcerer instead of Wizard. She’d be able to travel alone without needing the constant support of others.

Taking a long, steadying breath, she knew the time was right. She’d never be more committed to what she needed. She tapped the level button next to her Bellatir Levels.

* Bellatir level up! *

* Resilience (Tolerance) +1 *

* Resilience (Willpower) +1 *

* Resilience (Stability) +1 *

* Resilience (Ego) +1 *

* Physical Damage Points +8 *

* Mental Damage Points +4 *

* Emotional Damage Points +3 *

* Soul Damage Points +2 *

* New Talent Unlocked – Chi Healing now Level 1 *

The upgrades were all welcome, but the real thrill was to see the Talent she had wanted since the moment Taliskhan described it as a possibility. Eager beyond words, she hurried to open its details.

Talent: Chi Healing: Level 1

-  As a prerequisite to obtaining this Talent, the Bellatir must have awakened the Technique for Burning PDP for Magical Energy. This Talent uses the same power of the inner Chi to increase natural healing rates.

-  Physical damage endured by the practitioner will now recover at a rate linked to the recovery rate indicated by one’s Burning PDP for Magical Energy Technique. The recovery rates are governed by type:

• [Bludgeoning] Damage recovers at 60% listed rate.

• (Cutting/Clean Edge) Damage recovers at 50% listed rate.

• {Aggravated} Damage recovers at 30% listed rate.

-  The healing this Talent provides happens concurrently to recovery rates from other Talents and Techniques.

-  This Talent is a prerequisite for other Techniques that can allow the individual to grant others healing energy.

-  Only Physical Damage Points (PDP) can be healed with this process. Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based damage (MDP, EDP, SDP) must be healed utilizing other Techniques mastered separately.

-  Higher levels of this Technique improve the percentages for recovery. Above level 10, recovery for mundane PDP injuries will exceed those lost due to Burning for Magical Energy.

Yokïmi let out the breath she had been holding. Her mind went through a quick mental calculation. If she trusted in Taliskhan enough to achieve full, restful sleep, with her augmented Technique, she could earn back 1 PDP every 12 minutes of the ones she had Burned. That meant to regain all 50, it would take her 10 hours of sleep. Then there was the 25 PDP she’d lost from direct injury. She couldn’t remember exactly how much she’d lost from each type of injury, so she averaged it in her mind to the midway mark of 50%. That meant she’d gain 1 PDP back every 24 minutes, and thus it would also take 10 hours of full rest to return to full strength.

It sounded like forever, but when she considered that next to the days upon days it would take to heal a typical wound, even something as comparatively trivial as the bad gash on her hand, it was a gift she couldn’t ignore.

She wasn’t sure if it was Taliskhan’s intent to let them sleep until they had fully recovered. He might have the option taken away from him if something nasty shows up that he can’t fight while also keeping the rest of us safe. With that in mind, she wanted to get to sleep as quickly as possible to maximize the time she had.

But there was one other choice to be made. The green [+] marker remained next to both her level paths with magical ability. She suspected she only had enough to increase one of them: Sorcerer or ChiKiln. On the surface, it didn’t seem like a difficult choice; she needed powers that didn’t require links to material things that she couldn’t carry with her.

But Sorcerer was already at Level 2, which meant an increase there would give her access to Level 3 abilities, whereas she could only bring ChiKiln from Level 1 to 2. Not for the first time, she whispered a soft curse toward the gods for playing these games, wishing she had a full listing of the available powers for both. Then I could do the same focusing of my thoughts to push for one I want. There has to be a Sage somewhere in the world who has made a study of this. That would be a worthy Quest: to find them and learn at their feet. Then again, they are probably the property of some royal family using the knowledge for their own benefit.

Deciding that second-guessing would only lock herself into indecision and regret, Yokïmi recommitted to her path and selected the ChiKiln marker.

* ChiKiln level up! *

* Resilience (Tolerance) +1 *

* Physical Damage Points +10 *

* Mental Damage Points +1*

* Emotional Damage Points +1 *

* Soul Damage Points +1 *

* New Technique Unlocked – Signature Physical Spell now Level 1 *

Pleasure rose in her at the simple addition of so many PDP. New robustness suffused her body in a single, heady rush. The implications were also important. With the dual level increases, she’d gone from 79 to 97 PDP. That was nearly an extra Low-Level spell she could cast before burning herself out. It might mean the difference between life and death.

But the Technique also promised to be important. She opened those details next.

Technique: Signature Physical Spell: Level 1

-  The ChiKiln may select a single Spell from their known inventory which becomes their Signature Spell. The selection can only be changed upon gaining a new level in this Technique.

-  This spell can be cast with reduced cost, both in Tolerance points and (if material components are not used) in the PDP required to Burn sufficient energy.

-  The maximum level for the Signature spell is currently Low.

-  Casting the Signature Spell requires 75% of normal costs.

-  This Technique can only create a Signature Spell from the physical domain. Signature Spells for the Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based domains are possible utilizing other Techniques that must be mastered separately.

-  Higher levels of this Technique increase the maximum level of the spell that may be chosen as well as reducing the % cost.

Yokïmi clenched a fist as if she had achieved some great victory, then let it go as she laughed at herself. It was pure chance. Or was it…? Taliskhan said I could focus my needs. I’ve done that. Even if I didn’t know what to ask for, the probabilities that the gods put in place might have been influenced to give me something useful. And right now, there isn’t much that I need more than to have ways to streamline my available power.

Either way, the new Technique came with a deep sense of relief about it. She shifted down to look at the full list of her available Techniques.

Techniques:

Bellatir Adapted Spell (Presence Haze):   1

Break Grapple Hold:   4

Burn PDP for Magical Energy:   1

Harp Shadow Playing:   5

Knockout Strike:   2

Pressure Point Strike (Choking Throat Strike):   2

Pressure Point Strike (Numbing):   2

Signature Physical Spell (Unspecified):   1

She felt no immediate pressure from any supernatural force to make the selection and turn the ‘Unspecified’ into a concrete choice. She wasn’t sure how hard it would be to make that selection. It might not be possible in the heat of battle. But she decided she’d rather keep her options open until the demand was put on her.

The name suggested that she should be picking a spell that held a kinship for her. A way of people recognizing her. It was hard to argue against picking Razor Beam. Not only would it be useful in a coming battle, but her Farrum had selected it for her as something unique and different from the spells he normally taught his apprentices.

But the practical side won out over her sentimental side. At least for the next few days, she couldn’t afford to be selfish and short-sighted.

Feeling at peace with the decisions she’d made, Yokïmi looked around to see if she could see her mentor. He wasn’t in immediate sight, and she didn’t have much hope for picking the talented martial artist out against the backdrop. The fire that had consumed the fae-willow had smoldered down to nothing but ash, though a faint haze of smoke remained in the air and gave additional cover.

He’s out there. I can trust in that as surely as I can trust that Parrun will prod Kharr whenever he gets the chance. She shifted closer to the group. With a smile, she noticed that Avalessa had left a wide swath of her bedding empty and available for Yokïmi to join her on. Arranging herself within easy reach of the elf, she reached out to join hands with the other woman. It made her heart skip a couple beats when the Mystic responded in her sleep, stroking a few soft caresses along Yokïmi’s palm before settling into place with their fingers woven together.

It was not same sort of security she would find in her own hut back in the Sanctuary. She wasn’t sure she would achieve a state of complete relaxation to allow for the best sort of recovery rates. But for the moment, it was enough. Yokïmi drifted into dreams that might not be filled with sunshine, but at least didn’t promise to haunt her with savage nightmares.

Chapter 19

Smash!

Yokïmi was startled awake by a crash that sounded like wood breaking, leaves whipping about, and the thud of a heavy object hitting the dirt. A small part of her remembered there were threats in the area, so she didn’t bolt upright until she caught her bearings.

Beside her, Avalessa’s eyes flickered open, but she reacted in the same way. Together, they flowed onto their knees and peered over the small ridge in the ground they’d used as a backing for their camp.

If it wasn’t for being in the midst of a faelapse, the scene beyond the edge of the camp would have been utterly bewildering. As it was, it was merely disconcerting and strange.

An animal that had once been a gorilla was flailing about itself, trying to hammer its fists into the frustratingly nimble zaskran that was inside its reach. The animal was verging on twice the size of a typical example of its species. That was likely because it had two heads and a widened torso that looked like a pair of the beasts had been fused together. Its attacks went on and on, pummeling the ground only inches behind its target.

Smash! Smash! Smash! Smash!

Taliskhan was making no effort to meet the monster strength for strength. As strong as he was for a zaskran, he was as overmatched as Yokïmi would have been wrestling him. When the duo-gorilla whirled to hit him, the Ekanshin master pivoted under the creature’s arms, ghosting behind it to remain forever on its flank or at its back.

The way he kept evaporating was angering the monster past all reason. Its twin heads snapped back and forth, both its mouths pulled back into a fierce snarl that showed their massive, dagger-long incisors.

Smash! Smash! Smash! Smash!

If ever the beast started to lumber with fatigue or if its anger peaked and began to cool, Taliskhan flashed his claws in the chopping gesture he had used against the ghouls. The waves of cutting energy he generated were not nearly as effective against the fae-gorilla. They would bite into the thing’s hide, but then break apart before slicing deeply into the flesh below. What those attacks did accomplish was to refresh the creature’s fury. With each sting, the fae-gorilla renewed its furious efforts to smash the dancing bug it couldn’t seem to catch.

Smash!... Smash!... Smash!...

Smash!... Smash!...

Smash!...

Eventually, the supernatural endurance of the beast withered. Taliskhan’s prodding couldn’t goad it back into frantic action. It staggered to one knee, took a final swipe, and then bent the other as well. Its knuckles pressed into the ground as it tried to stop itself from collapsing. The creature’s lungs worked like a bellows, heaving in great gulps of air to prevent it from passing out.

* Fatigued: Acute *

At the sight of the status tag floating off the beast’s head, Taliskhan flexed his legs and sent himself up and over the fae-gorilla. He tucked in his shoulder and rolled across the creature’s back. As he passed by the point where its thick neck met its shoulders, his hands flashed three times in rapid succession. The triple arcs of light opened the monster’s hide to pierce its protection, dug deeply into vital flesh, and then severed its spine.

(-92)  (-141)

* Critical Wound *

(-318)

* Dead *

By the time Taliskhan touched the ground and absorbed the impact by falling into a deep crouch, the fae-gorilla had slumped to the ground in a boneless heap. The zaskran master calmly stood, considered the relative location of the corpse, and apparently decided it was sufficiently far from the camp. He made no effort to move it or otherwise deal with it, instead merely beginning the walk back toward the group.

He arrived to find all five of them awake. The chain of pounding strikes from the creature had shaken even Sylnie from her deep sleep of recovery. They gathered in mute respect until Taliskhan was within easy speaking distance.

It was Parrun who recovered first, chirping, “Remind me never to piss you off.”

An edge of sarcasm clung to the zaskran’s face as he threw a challenging look back at the mashashi that seemed to say ‘when has fear of me ever stopped you before?’

Knowing he would feel uncomfortable if the scrutiny dragged on, Yokïmi asked, “Was there any other trouble as we slept?”

“Only one other creature that wass on the hunt, but I was able to lead it away to where it found another trail. The fae-altered ecossysstem might be dissturbing to uss, but it doess not exisst purely to desstroy that which iss normal in our realm. Itss predatorss will sseek prey both altered and not.”

Absorbing the lesson alongside her, Avalessa glanced up past the branches of the surrounding apple trees. “How long did you leave us to rest?”

“Both ssunss have been in the ssky for over two hourss,” the zaskran replied. “I would call it mid-morning, and you’ve sslept through the night.”

It sounded like between eight and twelve hours to Yokïmi. It hadn’t been very dark when they had finished their fight with the fae-willow. She didn’t hear any complaints from the others about eating into this new day in exchange for some added recovery time.

The closest any of them came was Kharr as he said, “Then we’ve been here long enough. If these are your lands, I assume you know where we can cross the river?” He directed the last to Yokïmi, as always making it clear he enjoyed every chance to leer at her while they talked.

She gave him a curt nod, deliberately turning away. Bending in a fashion to minimize what she exposed for him to gawk at, she swept Avalessa’s blankets off the ground and began rolling it so that it could be stuffed in the elf’s pack. It had the added benefit of putting fabric between her and the lecherous gnoll.

“The river is too deep to ford,” she said, concentrating on the way forward. “We should make for Takato Bridge. It is distant enough from the castle that it might have escaped the initial destruction. Whether it has survived the faelapses since then is anyone’s guess.”

“Worth checking before we start swimming,” Sylnie said firmly. She was filled with sufficient fear at the idea for a tag to form over her head.

* Fear: Slight *

While she wasn’t scared of swimming, Yokïmi had to agree with that. The current was strong enough and the river wide enough that they might be swept right by the castle and end up miles down river before they got across. And that’s assuming nothing nasty is lurking in the water ready to eat us.

She led the way, once again mildly disturbed by how every step was over familiar terrain while the flora and fauna were twisted from the fae. The changes ruined any sense of nostalgia that otherwise would have come to her from being so close to home.

Takato Bridge proved to be intact. More importantly, there weren’t any creatures lurking under it. On the far side, they caught sight of a small pack of coyotes, but they were across a field of waving grass rippling in the wind. Each stalk had scissor-like snips at the tip, preventing either group from crossing. Yokïmi led them quickly up the road bound for the castle, keeping them far enough away from the pack that they never saw what mutations the canine predators might have.

The road had a continual uphill grade steep enough to slowly leech at their energy. That ended up being the only challenge that stood in their path. They soon came upon the wreckage of the castle, little more than a massive pile of rubble that extended from one side of the tor to the other.

None of them could quite believe they hadn’t been accosted by anything disturbing. The quiet was beginning to wear on all of them. Yokïmi could see it in their nervous glances and the way they jumped at even the smallest sound in the forest behind them. She knew she was showing the same signs.

“We’re here,” she whispered, deciding the only solution to their nerves was to get on with the Quest. “Can you describe what we are looking for?”

“The hidden shrine where your brother crafted the ritual. I saw the interior in my vision,” Avalessa said.

“As did I,” Kharr growled.

“And me,” Sylnie added. “We’ll all know it when we see it, but it was a chamber no more than twenty feet across. How many rooms like that existed in a castle this size?”

“Too many to count,” was Yokïmi’s first answer. She chewed on it a little more, then said, “But far fewer where my brother could have claimed it as his own and refused anyone else entry. He had his own apartment within the main keep. Modifying one of his own dressing rooms is possible. Or he could have sealed off a room in the cellars. Perhaps a storage room nobody used. Either way, it would be in the main keep.” She pointed at the highest point of the ruins.

They picked their way over the ruins. Halfway across, a rumble shook the ground under their feet as a god-like voice carried on the wind.

RRRRhhhhuuummmmmmmmmuuuurrrggghhh!

They all froze in place, taking their various combat stances.

Parrun’s ear flattened. “That was no volcano eruption. What in the gods’ hells was it?”

“Akuje,” Yokïmi whispered, scanning the horizon around them. “He’s out there somewhere.” She couldn’t decide if that echoing cry had been close or distant. The way it had rolled over the landscape, it could easily be either.

Kharr urged them on with a wave of his spear. “Then let’s find the source of his power and destroy the cursed place before he realizes we’re here and comes to fuhhkin end us.”

Slowly, they got moving again, but every now and then Yokïmi caught both herself and the others looking out into the distance as if they might catch sight of the monster they had come to hunt, hoping he wouldn’t come stalking them first before they were ready. Avalessa had explained the visions. The only hope they had of defeating him would be to first find the hidden shrine that had given Akuje his power.

Reaching the top of the tor, Parrun crouched and tried to jiggle one of the thick slabs of fallen rock. It didn’t budge and rubbed his fingers raw in the attempt. “Now what?” the mashashi complained.

“No sense digging until we’ve got an idea where it might be,” Avalessa said. She also went into a low crouch, then whispered down to the tattoo on her leg. “I need you Olvra.”

Her sweetly beckoning voice brought the white ermine uncoiling from around her calf in a puff of white smoke. She chittered up at her elf friend as if asking for her mission.

Avalessa tapped the stone beneath her feet. “Find the holes I can’t use. Don’t get stuck.”

The animal returned a cheeky squeak, which Yokïmi swore was laughter at the idea she could get trapped like that. Seconds later, the ermine had wormed her way into the rubble and vanished from sight.

“You too, Moilla.” Avalessa extended her arm down, compelling the white smoke to waft out from under her bracer, leaving a huge spider in its wake. The arachnid measured at least four inches across while standing normally, and might reach eight if she splayed her eight legs wide.

The spider danced back and forth on a rock until she had her bearings. Without the same playful interchange as with Olvra, Moilla skittered into the crumbled ruins and also disappeared.

RRRRhhhhuuummmmmmmmmuuuurrrggghhh!

The resonant power of Akuje’s rolling bellow shook the ruins, causing a few pebbles to skip away from their resting spots. One larger rock was shaken loose and skidded a few feet to one side before finding a new rest.

“Do you think he knows we’re here?” Parrun asked, darting fearful eyes around as the tag above his head cranked upward.

* Fear: Moderate *

Yokïmi didn’t dare to ask what she was displaying. Her hands weren’t shivering with fear quite yet, and for that she was fairly proud. “I’ve no idea. But as soon as we do anything of significance, we have to assume he’s going to get a lot more focused on us.”

“Know what I’m finding strange? This is the center of the faelapse events, right?” Parrun turned in slow circles, a confused look on his face. “Shouldn’t the stones be turned into marshmallows or the whorls on the exposed planks coming alive to quote sonnets or blow poison darts at us? I mean, this should be the center of the weird, right?”

“Those are the sort of nightmare ideas better kept to yourself,” Sylnie snorted.

“But the underlying question does beg an answer, doesn’t it?” Yokïmi admitted. She glanced over at Taliskhan. She didn’t think he would be testing them in that moment, at the critical moment of the Quest, but he might not be quick to offer his thoughts until they were fully developed.

Nothing about the zaskran’s expression suggested he was close to puzzling this out. Concern was the dominant emotion on his face, as little as it showed.

“What is it?” Yokïmi asked.

“Nature doess not abide an abssence. If there iss an advantage to be gained, then ssomething will risse to sseize it. A year after the initial event, there hass been ssufficient time.”

“What does it mean?”

“It can only mean one thing,” the zaskran said, turning in slow, wary circles. “It iss a rule that cannot be denied. It meanss thiss place hass been claimed. We’ve ssimply yet to meet the guardian. And it musst be a pressence sso sstrong that nothing elsse hass grown here, no matter how ssmall. Not even viness or weedss have broken through the rockss.”

“My brother could have made this his nest. He could be out roaming for now, but surely nothing would dare creep into his territory.”

As if summoned, the unearthly wail rolled over them once more.

RRRRhhhhuuummmmmmmmmuuuurrrggghhh!

“Would you say it’s getting closer?” Parrun asked in a soft voice, as if the monster might be drawn in if he voiced the question too loudly.

“I don’t think so,” Yokïmi replied, doing what she could to measure the roar that echoed in the air and made it hard to judge either distance or direction. She looked around at the others. “Avalessa might take time. Fan out. See if you can find anything that looks like a nest.”

The others listened to her. Parrun skipped away over the rocks, peeking into the holes and spaces he could find. Sylnie took a more deliberate approach, picking out any rocky formations that looked large enough to conceal a nest large enough for a creature that could produce the sound they were hearing. Even Kharr took up the task, strolling about casually and following his nose and instincts.

Yokïmi faced her master again, her suspicion rising again. “You don’t think it’s him causing this, do you?”

“No,” Taliskhan said, continuing his slow rotations as he pushed his senses outward. “From what you have ssaid of your ssibling, he iss not a methodical ssort. Your recounting of him ssuggestss he iss driven by emotion.”

“Oh yes. But the magic might have changed him.”

“Fae magic tendss to emphassize the esssence of thosse caught in its grassp. Can you envission your ssibling taking the time to meticuloussly drive away even the plant life which might have grown?”

Yokïmi couldn’t deny his conclusions. “No. He’d enjoy scaring anything that can feel fear, but he wouldn’t care about plants or insects.”

“From what you’ve told me, he’d greedily grab up anything shiny and toss it into some treasure hoard,” Parrun called out. He was ducked down, peering into a gap in the rubble. “Not sure if I could get to the gold I’m seeing, but it looks like a small treasury was busted open when the castle fell. I can see at least a hundred coins scattered about down there.”

“You don’t even have to dig,” Kharr barked with gruff amusement. He grasped hold of a hilt jutting out from the wreckage. He gave it a tug and brought forth a well-crafted sword. The hilt was silver, wrapped in black silk, and inlaid with at least four gemstones. The blade was engraved with runes and didn’t have a spot of rust after laying in the dirt for a year. “Look at this. The sword of a noble forgotten like refuse.”

A wave of blue fire flowed out from beneath the rubble. Running forth like lava spilling down the side of a volcano, it spread out in the general direction of where Kharr stood. A blazing tongue of flame lashed out from the central pool, scorching him along the arm that held the impressive sword he’d found.

{-41}

* Crippled: Arm – Moderate *

* Fear – Moderate *

Kharr bellowed in shock, releasing the sword and letting it fall clanging to the rocks. He backed away from the angry fire that continued to pursue him across the ruins, fueling his fear as he was hunted by the elements themselves.

Taliskhan seemed to flicker as he left his spot beside Yokïmi and appeared between the gnoll and the flame. His arms moved through a rapid pattern of brushing sweeps, each one conjuring a wind that billowed into the teeth of the fire flow. Wherever the pool of flames tried to spread, he interposed himself and constricted it with his air magic. “Sshow yoursself, creature!”

Roiling back from the zaskran, the fire spun into a tornado. Growing tighter with each spiral, the cyclone resolved into a bipedal figure just beyond six feet tall. Its face, torso, and inner halves of its limbs had human proportions, but was crafted entirely of blue-shaded marble emanating flickers of azure fire. From the elbows and knees down, the creature had black, pebbled skin reminiscent of a lizardish race like the zaskran. The end of each finger and toe was a vicious claw made of white ivory. Flowing off the creature’s head, shoulders, and back was a lustrous forest of black, long, wavy spines with needle-shape tips colored white.

Alien in nature to anything Yokïmi had ever seen, the fae-mutant had one feature that was disturbingly familiar. Its face was that of Haruto Kai, Yokïmi’s mentor for the entirety of the years where she was coming of age. Even crafted of smooth, blue stone and carrying eyes that were now void-black, Yokïmi could never mistake those features she’d seen expressing too many emotions over too many years.

Neither could Taliskhan. The zaskran master hissed, the bluster in him fading behind a mask of mournful regret. “I hoped to find you ressting in a sshallow grave, finesst of my sstudentss. I knew I would need to dig a deeper one. But it doess me no joy to desstroy you before laying you in it.”

“Begone from this place!” thundered the fae-being that was once Haruto Kai. “It shall remain sacrosanct against any who seek to taint it.”

“I’m the rightful heir to the castle!” Yokïmi declared, rising into plain view. “You serve my family. I cannot despoil something that belongs to me!”

Haruto’s chill gaze fell on her. “This place shall remain unspoiled!” One of her palms opened in Yokïmi’s direction and emitted a howling swirl of blue flame.

But as soon as Yokïmi saw the absolute absence of recognition in those eyes, she knew her gambit had failed. Calling on the Technique she had learned with her third Bellatir level, she hazed the edges of her figure and turned herself into a blur of motion. Diving to one side, she rolled back in the other direction, then found refuge behind a block of stone. The fires tracking her smashed against the far side, melting half of it into slag but leaving her untouched.

“She doesn’t know us!” Yokïmi called out. “She can’t be reasoned with!”

“Then we sshall not reasson,” Taliskhan intoned. From his combat crouch, he sent an experimental air-slash toward the resurrected woman. The glowing arc of yellow light cracked against Haruto’s marble skin and did nothing but mildly chip at the surface.

(-2)

“Gonna need more than a few flickering lights,” snarled Kharr. Jamming his spear into an open patch of earth, still cradling his burned arm, he muscled a huge piece of rock into the crook of the other one and heaved it at the fae-creature.

The debris never struck home. Without even bothering to look at him, Haruto sent a lash of blue fire to incinerate the rock in midair.

“Maybe you’d like a bite of my fire!” Parrun finished his own chant and sent a Fire Bolt arrowing at Haruto’s chest.

She didn’t bother to block it. It shattered on her like hitting breast plate armor. The splashes of flame that usually spread so well died on her stony skin. The scratch that Taliskhan had caused sealed under the heat.

{+2}

“Did that heal it? Oh fulken hells, we’re fulked!” Parrun coughed out, skittering away as he tried to think of a different idea.

“As powerful as you might be, you’re nothing compared to the might of our god. Narrum created you. The fae has corrupted you. You shall not live to see the dawn!” Sylnie brought her hands together as her face locked into a fierce, elated smile as the might of Narrum surged through her. The silvery orb of her Cleansing Fire lanced into the chest of the being that had once been Haruto.

For the first time, the fae-creature reacted with pain. The sapphire glow around her dimmed a little and the marble stone of her body became pitted and scorched over a wide area. Wherever the silver flame licked her limbs, the black pebbled skin blistered and cracked.

{-82}

The initial blast flickered out as Haruto snarled, curling her arms and directing an unseen power inward to smother the silver fire before it could burn her any further. Even as they watched, the edges of those blackened scorch marks began to revert back to the original blue as she began to recover from her wounds at a rapid rate.

* Regenerating *

{+3}

* Regenerating *

{+3}

What flared from Haruto might have been taken for anger at being hurt, but Yokïmi read it as the fae-woman’s rage at the group for daring to stand against her and continue what her twisted mind considered to be the desecration of the castle ruins. A significant part of Yokïmi wanted to command them all to back away and leave her to keep her ancestral home safe from graverobbers for all time.

But this is Haruto. I’ve no idea if her soul is in there, and I can’t condemn her to that sort of half-life. She hadn’t come here for that purpose in the same way as Taliskhan, but she embraced it as necessary, especially if they had to excavate her brother’s power shrine buried here somewhere.

Haruto’s chill eyes clicked from one opponent to the next, her corrupted mind coming to some conclusion. “Otaki! Takayu! Daigata! Step forth!”

Rubble shifted from three different piles. Soldiers in Kikuchi family colors pushed from their resting places, dust and crumbling bits of rock tumbling from the bamboo and leather construction of their Ashigaru armor. They pulled spears along with them, the tips of each burning with blue fire apparently gifted from Haruto. Their eyes were as cold and dark as the mistress which had summoned them back from the grave.

Yokïmi recognized the names. All were guards from among those whom she trained. While her focus was on the nobles, she and her apprentices had passed on certain skills to improve the quality of fighting among the castle’s soldiers. A few had even shown some decent talent for the Ekanshin art. Now it seemed they were linked to her in death.

“Protect Avalessa!” Yokïmi called out. Hoping that didn’t sound too rooted in her own emotional needs, she added, “Give her time to search or this is all for nothing!” Having already expended PDP to enter her Hazed state, she swallowed hard and went to intercept Otaki, hoping she could handle whatever these new spectral warriors could do.

Sylnie didn’t have an option. As the one who had injured Haruto, the monster that had been Takayu ran right at her with spear leading. Summoning her spectral armor and twin hammers, the half-folk Cleric gritted her teeth and spun to meet the attack.

Kharr drew the last of them. Daigata displayed the complete lack of intimidation at facing the massive gnoll only possible in a dead man brought back to life by magic. But the Ashigaru’s obsidian eyes didn’t faze Kharr at all. Grasping his own weapon, he surged into range of the fae-fighter and met him spear for spear.

The last that Yokïmi saw was Taliskhan striking at Haruto like a falcon, perhaps realizing he couldn’t leave the dangerous fae with any idle time or they would all be lost. Getting in close, he slashing rapid chops with his clawed hands, each one generating a cutting wave. Yokïmi had to wonder how long the zaskran could sustain the magical attacks, knowing that he was drawing on his PDP to create them. But he showed no sign of letting up.

Haruto responded with her own serpentine grace. She wove around him, firing back with her own clawed palm strikes that were punctuated with gouts of azure fire that singed the zaskran’s scales. The two masters became a vortex of dangerous magic that never ceased its churn.

Then the fae-monster that had been Otaki was upon her, and she focused her whole attention on staying alive. She had faced the enemy Ashigaru back in the border town with wary confidence, but she had no idea what abilities this creature might be capable of calling on.

Oddly, this enemy replicated the same, first thrust she had faced back in the town. But this one came in twice as fast and with the fiery tip sizzling. Not daring to get in close, Yokïmi darted left and spiraled into a low, circular kick that clipped the creature’s front heel and swept it forward. It succeeded in stealing Otaki’s balance, forcing the fighter to scramble sideways to avoid being tripped.

Before Yokïmi could follow-up on the success, Parrun appeared from the rubble. He’d clearly been searching for the right time to intervene. He scampered in low, digging his daggers into the backs of both of the fae-creature’s legs.

(-18)  (-14)

For any being native to their mortal world, those would have been crippling strikes that did far more damage. But these wounds didn’t even bleed as the mashashi tore out the blades and rolled away before he could get stomped.

But his reflexes were not enough to avoid getting kicked. The fae-Ashigaru spun and delivered a brutal blow right into the scrambling predoran’s stomach.

[-31]

* Tripped *

“Oof!” Parrun gasped as the wind was blasted out of him. His smallfolk-sized body was hurled five feet away. He landed as well as anyone could, dispersing the impact and then rolling fast to give himself more space and avoiding any follow-up attack. He groaned and vanished once again behind the ruins.

Yokïmi didn’t give Otaki the chance to chase her injured friend. After a quick run, she left the ground in a flying kick. She wasn’t trying to generate power she didn’t have for a massive, damaging blow. Her entire focus was on connecting right at the mid-point between the Ashigaru’s shoulder blades and then driving through his bulk. She hit not only the point she wanted but at the right time as well: in that fraction of a second before Otaki regained his balance from his own kick, exactly when he would think himself safe.

[-19]

* Tripped *

The fae-fighter was thrown forward chest first and impacted heavily on a sharp rock outcropping. The jagged edges ripped into him, doing far more damage than her kick could have hoped to do.

{-38}

Unfortunately, the recently dead Ashigaru was neither impaled nor stunned by what should have been a painful fall. It actually rolled on the sharp rocks, crumpling its armor and raising another damage tag on itself.

{-4}

The rapid roll allowed it to whip its spear around and send it whistling at Yokïmi. She ducked to evade, her hazed form and crystalline features combining to make her difficult to pick out. It was almost enough. The spear tip only brushed her back as she dipped under it. Pain seared her nerves as the blue fire singed her.

{-12}

The move still left the Otaki-creature on its back. Once again, Parrun appeared to take advantage of the weakness. Having seen that his dagger attacks on critical spots weren’t going to do any good, the predoran had changed tactics. He’d found a makeshift spear in the form of a broken shard of wood from a shattered building. Soaring out of his hiding spot, he brought the ragged tip down into the fae-fighter’s neck. It speared right through and jammed into the ground below.

{-21}

* Pinned *

Yokïmi felt a small rush of horror as she saw neither a Dead tag nor even a Critical Wound marker. The fae-Ashigaru continued to writhe, snapping its spear around wildly as it tried to work free.

“Help me, Parrun!” She waved him over to a rock that neither of them could otherwise lift. Together, they got it off the ground and heaved it from beyond spear reach right onto the creature’s head. However much Otaki could squirm, that part couldn’t move and its helmet had no chance of protecting it against the huge rock. It crunched the fae-monster’s skull. Whatever corrupted life it had been given was extinguished as the brain matter inside was crushed.

[-145]

* Dead *

A roar emanated from Haruto, and a surge of pure force blew Taliskhan back several paces from her. Her night-black eyes locked on where Yokïmi and Parrun stood breathing heavily after their exertion. With a venomous snarl, the fae-guardian conjured a spear of blue fire in one hand and hurled it at them.

The air itself hissed as Taliskhan cut through it with supernatural speed, intercepting the attack. He chopped through the shaft of flames in mid-flight, dispersing its power. The azure flames licked along his forearm, taking a toll for his efforts.

{-32}

Grimacing through the pain, the zaskran reversed his path and went back on the attack.

Yokïmi let out an explosive breath, realizing how close she had just come to death. If that spear had hit her, she had no doubt it would have done far more damage. We need to finish this. If we can get into the shrine, maybe there’s some source to her power that we can smother.

Racing to Avalessa’s side, Yokïmi pleaded, “Tell me you’ve found something.”

“Nothing,” the elf said in a fierce whisper, never opening her eyes as she concentrated on seeing through the eyes of her animals. “They’ve searched all over. It has to be here. The vision told us it was concealed in the only spot he ever considered his own. That has to be in the castle, doesn’t it?”

Yokïmi’s blood ran cold. She clutched at the Mystic’s arm. “You never put it like that before.”

Avalessa’s eyes fluttered open as she heard her lover’s tone. “What? What do you mean?”

“It isn’t here,” Yokïmi said. Then, louder, screaming it over the ruins. “The casting chamber he used isn’t here!”

Her voice drew the ire of Haruto once more. The guardian leaped high in the air, cresting ten feet at least, giving her a clear sight line to anywhere in the ruins. One hand extended to deliver some sort of energy blast at where the two women crouched.

Once again, Taliskhan jumped to intercept, painting the air to create a near-invisible shield that glowed faintly yellow even in the sunlight. When Haruto’s attack smashed into it, the surface lit up with sparks that bounced and arced through the air, singing anything they touched upon landing. That included the few that skipped over the shield to burn the zaskran’s waving tail.

{-9}  {-8}

He curled the appendage in tighter, looked back at Yokïmi and hissed, “Begone from here! I cannot fight her and protect all of you at the same time. If what you seek isn’t here, then go and find it.”

“We can all return later,” Yokïmi insisted.

“I am here to put her to rest. Worrying about her killing one of you by accident impedes my freedom.”

He was trying to be kind, but she heard the message. You are making this harder. Get away so I can do what needs to be done. Aloud, she called out, “Gather with me at the base of the hill! Let’s go!”

Giving up on her hunt, Avalessa scooped Moilla off the ground even as her ermine Olvra swirled around her leg and returned to her tattooed state. Imprinting the huge spider onto her forearm, the elf followed Yokïmi’s direction and departed the ruins at a sprint.

Both Kharr and Sylnie had finished handling their own Ashigaru opponents. The gnoll looked unharmed but for a few scratches, while Sylnie was heavily burned all along one of her thighs. Despite her grimaces of pain, she got moving away from the scene of the epic battle being waged behind them.

In an attempt to focus the guardian entirely on him, as soon as the energy attack had been spent upon his shield, Taliskhan exploded up into her face, leading with a punch no-doubt empowered by his inner magic. Yokïmi saw cracks appear on the fae-woman’s stone cheeks before she whirled away.

Less than fifty paces outside the ruins, Yokïmi staggered to a stop.

Avalessa skidded to a halt next to her. “What?”

“I can’t leave him.”

“You heard what he said.” The elf pointed back up at the ruins. “He needs to know we’re safe so he can fight without care. Besides, you’re the key to finding this power shrine.”

“I’ve a good idea where it might be. The only place I can think that makes sense. But it’s a couple hours from here. I’m not going that far until I’m sure Taliskhan is safe. And if we can’t go there, then I want to be there for him. I’ll stay hidden. I won’t go charging in. But I need to see.”

Avalessa sucked in a deep breath, hunting for arguments to stop her lover from charging back into danger.

“I’ll keep well clear,” Yokïmi promised, heading off whatever she might say.

“I don’t believe a word of that,” the Mystic said, a soft scowl creasing her elegant features. Shaking her head, disappointing in her own failure at finding a convincing argument, she unhooked one of her chakram from her belt and held it out to her. “I’m going to want this back.”

“I’ve no idea how to throw this,” Yokïmi protested.

“Don’t try,” Avalessa said with a snort of laughter. “Grip it and use it like a circular blade. Close enough that your knife Skills should activate. If you end up needing a weapon, the adamantine edge will cut through anything you’re up against.”

With a rush of affection, Yokïmi pressed herself against the elven beauty. Curling her arms tightly around her neck, her lips captured Avalessa’s in a fiery kiss that sent tingles through her whole body and hopefully reflected similar feelings into her lover. It lasted only seconds, but left both of them breathless.

Their mouths parted but their arms remained interlinked for a moment longer. “Save that thought for later,” Avalessa said with a sensual grin, then nudged the other woman’s glass-clear shoulder. “Go. See to your master. I’ll make sure the others don’t do anything stupid while we’re waiting.”

Giving the elf’s forearms a thankful squeeze, Yokïmi bolted back up the hill at a dead sprint. Shaking off the tingles of desire, needing to get her mind back on task, she bounded from a fallen log onto a large boulder and launched herself into a nearby tree.

She wasn’t sure that being above the ruins would prevent fae-Haruto from sensing her presence, but it was worth the effort. She knew from her childhood this grove of massive oak trees interconnected and provided a few lookouts where a person could see over the castle walls when they were still standing.

She was gratified to find that the view was still available, though she found there was already another occupant. A large squirrel was peering intently out over the ruins as if keenly interested in the battle that was ongoing. For a brief moment, she was worried about what strange powers the animal might have. Yet when it twitched around to look at her after noticing her presence, she couldn’t see a single thing different about it.

“Did you wander in from outside the faelapse zone?” Yokïmi whispered. “If so, you better leave before the next wave changes you.”

The squirrel chittered back at her, hopping in excitement without leaving.

She canted her head to one side, curious in spite of herself. She couldn’t see any reason for the animal to be so protective of this branch area. It should have fled. She liked animals, but never would have called herself good at charming them.

“Go on now,” she goaded the squirrel. “You’ve got the wrong woman. There’s a much friendlier elf down the hill. Go look after her for me if you need to be involved.”

Squeaking at her one last time, the animal bounded to another branch and scampered off into the branches.

On any other day, Yokïmi might have smiled and delighted in the odd encounter. Right then, all she cared about was ensuring Taliskhan was alive and holding the upper hand.

At first look, she could tell the former was accurate, but the latter was not nearly so certain. Smoke was rising from the zaskran’s scales, and he was moving slower than she’d last seen. Circling cautiously, the master was hunting for a solution to the puzzle this monster represented.

Yokïmi understood why he was having such difficulty even after the group cleared away. Mutated into a creature of stone, Haruto had a natural resistance to the pressure points and critical weak spot Techniques that were the heart of the Ekanshin art. Taliskhan clearly had plenty of tools to draw upon, but being unable to access the core of his abilities was undoubtedly frustrating.

Haruto cut loose with another wave of azure fire. Instead of meeting it with a shield, the zaskran flipped over it, rolling in midair so that the heat of the flames warmed his back without scorching it. Landing inside the fae-woman’s guard, he slashed a half-dozen times with an open hand, raking with his claws glowing with the amber cutting magic he had been summoning throughout the fight. Each pass carved a gouge in the guardian’s torso.

(-17)  (-15)  (-18)  (-15)  (-17)  (-16)

That much damage would have killed Yokïmi outright. But the tags over Haruto’s head never stopped, giving proof that her healing abilities were continuing their ceaseless efforts.

* Regenerating *

{+3}

* Regenerating *

{+3}

With the zaskran in so close, Haruto conjured a new trick she had yet to unveil. Her mouth spat a radiant stream of burning phosphorous pellets arched out onto Taliskhan’s chest. The wicked shards snagged on him and immediately seared into his pebbled scales.

She had never heard her master scream, either in anger or pain. He did now, losing his flawless balance and his composure as he clawed at the searing-hot shards melting into his flesh.

{-10}  {-11}  {-10}  {-9}  {-11}  {-12}

* Burning *

{-5}  {-6}  {-4}  {-5}  {-5}  {-6}

* Burning *

{-5}  {-6}  {-4}  {-5}  {-5}  {-6}

* Burning *

{-5}  {-6}  {-4}  {-5}  {-5}  {-6}

She couldn’t watch the vicious chain of damage tags rolling off her master without doing something. Leaping from the branch, she landed like a cat and sprinted across the ruins on quiet feet. Inside her mind, she stopped second-guessing and committed to her Signature Spell. With the lesser Tolerance cost, she’d be able to conjure four of them before exhausting herself. Time was of the essence, but she only ran fast enough that she could weave her way through the first parts of the spell, mumbling the words under her breath.

When she got the two back in sight, Haruto finishing another blue fire attack. Taliskhan warded it off, but he was looking increasingly haggard as the burns on his chest continued to sizzle.

Haruto’s back was facing her. Whatever supernatural senses the fae-creature had didn’t seem to have recognized her presence. She didn’t emerge until we took something from the rubble. Maybe her guardian senses haven’t reactivated to me again because I left and haven’t stolen anything upon my return. That might be the edge I need.

The guardian hadn’t seen her, but Taliskhan did. For a brief moment, his eyes caught on her. He made his decision in an instant. Rather than keep his distance, the zaskran lurched up into Haruto’s space and wrapped his arms around her. Lowering his center of gravity to avoid being dragged, he grappled her into place.

* Pinned *

As soon as the tag emerged from the fae-woman, Yokïmi knew what he was doing. Taliskhan was nearly spent, and he was giving Yokïmi a chance. As soon as she was within range, she finished the spell and sent a pink-hued ray of cutting energy into Haruto’s back.

(-101)

The Razor Beam etched a deep groove along Haruto’s spine. The fae-woman instantly went wild, doubling her efforts to escape the zaskran’s confining grip. But the powerful master was now using an element of the Ekanshin style that he had learned to perfection centuries before. He kept her limbs contained, enduring the heat she had to be emitting. There were so many burn tags flowing off Taliskhan that Yokïmi could even tell them apart.

She ignored all that. As rapidly as she ever had, she went through another casting of the Razor Beam spell. Another pink ray lanced out and into the guardian before she had regenerated more than a few handfuls of PDP.

(-103)

I need to do more damage. I need to hit her with a critical blow or I’m going to run out of energy before I even cripple her. Preparing herself to do something utterly foolish, Yokïmi whipped through a totally different spell, calling on one that she’d always anticipated using to save her modesty more than her life.

The power words ended and a thick fog appeared from nowhere, smothering the ruins. She lost sight of the grappling pair, but locked onto where she knew they would be. As soon as they were out of sight, she began to move. Closing in fast, she also went to the side, coming in at a different angle. I need to be precise. I won’t have more than a couple heartbeats.

Two shadows appeared in front of her. The moment was on her and she dared not delay. She darted closer, allowing the guardian to see her and giving her just a split-second to react. It was just enough time for Haruto to notice her out of the corner of her eye. Instinctively, her gaze swept around to Yokïmi, her features distorting with rage that another had come to despoil her area.

In the battle before, having the guardian notice her would have terrified Yokïmi. This time, it was precisely what she wanted. Letting the last syllables of her spells power words tumble from her lips, she extended her first finger and unleashed a Razor Beam right into Haruto’s eye.

* Critical Wound *

(-318)

The pink ray cut into the fae-being’s head and then slashed right out the back. Yokïmi tried to carve it sideways, slicing through the bridge of the creature’s nose and seeking its other eye, vying to do as much damage as possible. Thrilled to see the Critical tag emerge, she struggled to keep the magic surging for just a couple breaths longer. She felt the last of her Tolerance fading. Her ability to hold herself upright nearly evaporated along with the last remnants of her magic.

Then with all that was left to her, summoning the last of her strength, she brought Avalessa’s chakram around in artless but effective hacking motion. The dark-metal blade chopped into the guardian’s neck and severed it from her body.

* Critical Wound *

(-181)

* Dead *

The fae-distorted monster that had once been Haruto collapsed in Taliskhan’s grasp. The scroll of regeneration tags ended and all the frantic struggles that marked the last seconds of her life ceased. The living marble that had made up her torso cracked open and the blue fire from within her spread out to begin consuming her.

The strength in all three of them failed in almost the same moment. Taliskhan released Haruto as she caught fire, leaving her to topple to the side and onto the ground. He fell to his back, not even possessing the strength to guard against the impact against the rocks. The damage he took was insignificant and once again lost amidst the burning tags he continued to endure.

Yokïmi went to one knee, briefly overcome. All she had left was a scrap of her physical fortitude. Her body was trying to shut down to recover, but she couldn’t let it. Crawling over the rough rubble between them, she clutched at her master. The heat of the phosphorous chips was diminishing, but not quickly enough. They had dug in too far for her to pry free with the chakram.

“What can I do? Tell me!” Yokïmi pleaded at him.

Taliskhan had mastered himself enough against the pain that he was cloaking how bad it was. The only indication of how badly he was hurt was his clawed grip that bit into her nigh-invisible skin.

“A poetic enough end to have one apprentice dissobey me to sstop another from remaining a monsster.” He coughed, the last words coming out weak as his voice threatened to fail.

“Now you find your humor?” Yokïmi sobbed at him. “I can go for Sylnie.”

“Not enough time. Finissh what I came to do. Take that which Haruto Kai wore ass her ssymbolss.”

“The heron bracelets and anklets? I can’t. The Curse would –”

“They will adapt to the wearer. Take them.”

“What are they?”

An actual smile ghosted onto his lizardlike lips. “They were a gift from me. Now, they passs to you. Finding their power iss my last challenge to you. Be worthy of them.”

“I’ll… I’ll try.” She had no idea what else to say. Right then, she felt anything but worthy, helpless to do anything as the last of his life burned away. “We didn’t have enough time. I learned… so little.”

“We had exactly what the godss decreed for uss. You heard the vissionss of the otherss. They did not see me in their victory. I wass not part of their plan.”

“Yet you came anyway.” Yokïmi closed her eyes in pain.

“To ssee Haruto put to resst.” The strength in his grip on her withered. “Guard the Ssanctuary. Nothing matterss sso much ass that.”

Yokïmi didn’t even hesitate. “My oath on it.”

Behind and above her, her orb chimed. It was all she needed to confirm that her oath had been heard by the Divine powers of the world.

As if he could hear that chime, all the tension vanished from Taliskhan’s expression. He sank more fully against the stones and let out a last, rattling breath. The burning tags simmered the last of his life away.

* Burning *

{-2}  {-1}  {-2}  {-2}  {-1}  {-1}

* Burning *

{-1}  {-1}  {-1}  {-1}  {-1}  {-1}

* Burning *

{-0}  {-1}  {-1}  {-0}  {-0}  {-1}

* Dead *

Lacking the energy to cling to him harder, Yokïmi merely sank into him, her forehead drooping to his skin. She succumbed to her own grief and fatigue as she cried not only for him, but also for Haruto. That wound from that loss which she had mourned the previous year had reopened. She’d lost both, two masters that had helped her find a path she could embrace. And she had no idea what could make it right.

Chapter 20

RRRRhhhhuuummmmmmmmmuuuurrrggghhh!

Yokïmi started awake. Or perhaps it was merely jerking back to an alert state. She didn’t believe she could actually have drifted off, though she also couldn’t remember the last few minutes clearly.

But that echoing roar told her that the danger wasn’t entirely past. Indeed, she wondered if Haruto’s death had somehow rippled outward, reaching her equally corrupted brother and telling him that something was wrong in his domain.

I have to get moving. They’re depending on me to get them to Akuje’s secret chamber. I can only pray it’s where I think it is.

Prying herself away from Taliskhan’s remains, she nearly fled. But then she remembered that the faelapse had seized hold of corpses that remained whole and twisted them. She considered her zaskran master and decided he was far too intact to be safe. His soul would have protected him from a faelapse change, but now that the soul was departed, he’d be as vulnerable as any other. If the fae had corrupted Haruto into this powerful of a creature, she didn’t want to contemplate the awful power it could make out of Taliskhan.

Searching around, she found a piece of wood dry enough to catch fire. Jabbing it into the crackling remains of Haruto’s body consuming itself, she transferred enough of the supernatural fire to ensure that he would also be turned to ash.

She then used the blackened end of the stick to fish the four items Taliskhan had made her promise to take out of Haruto’s remains. They were much as she remembered them: two bracelets and two anklets, all with the stylized symbol of a heron on them. She remembered them as being a soft golden hue, nearly the same as Haruto’s skin tone. Now they were night black such that they would have blended with the zaskran-like talons Haruto had been granted as a fae-creature.

With her sapped Tolerance score, any physical pain was going to be twice as bad. Taking a deep breath, she fitted one of the bracelets around her left wrist, expecting a severe rash to break out as the black color so clearly marked her arm to the world around.

Instead, there was only a flash of discomfort. The bracelet shifted so quickly to become glassy clear like the rest of her that her Curse barely had anytime at all to activate. With overt relief, she clicked the other items in place and watched them change. At least I don’t have to carry them in my hands or Parrun’s pack. Not that they are going to be of any help until I figure out how to activate them or control whatever power they have.

With those grim tasks finished, she pressed her knuckles together in the fashion that summoned a status summary line. She didn’t have time to check her orb, but she needed to know what that chime was. There were three entries.

* Tolerance: Warning – 1 Point Remaining *

* Fear: Mild *

* New Quirk Received – Doom of the Sanctuary Guardian *

None of it was any surprise, except that her fear wasn’t even more severe. She felt like it was making her guts churn a lot more than mildly. Give it time. Wait until I get closer to the rampaging monster I used to call a brother.

She didn’t check on the details of the Quirk. It was invariably a result of the oath she’d made, and she had to survive long enough to return to the Sanctuary before the terms of that Doom mattered.

Getting to her feet was a struggle. She’d run herself right to the ragged edge using her magic, and every step down out of the ruins and down the hill to where the others had congregated was a challenge. She fought through it, if only to be away from the two burning corpses that used to be her mentors, to have mutual support should Akuje find them, and to see Avalessa again and return the gift that had helped finish the terror they’d all faced.

It was Vespa she met first. The ocelot came bounding out of the twisted forest, moving too quickly for the wriggling grassy fronds to snare her. Yokïmi went to her knee on a patch of gravel so they could reunite without worrying about the fae-changed foliage.

“By the gods, it’s good to see you.” She hugged her arms around the animal’s fur and buried her face in her warmth while Vespa purred back at her.

“Do I get my share?” Avalessa’s silken tone floated in from beside. Rather than goad them into separating, she merely wrapped her arms around both of them. “What happened?”

“Taliskhan’s gone.” It was the limit of what she was capable of explaining right then. “He did what needed to be done before the end.”

The elven Mystic’s face offered up her sadness. “I’m so sorry. We hardly knew him, but he was… impressive.” As she spoke, she coaxed Vespa back into its fog form, which glided under her clothes and melded to her skin.

It was a lead Yokïmi wished she could follow, wishing for the comfort that being physically close to the woman could offer. But the urge was dampened by what they all had yet to face.

“That and more,” Yokïmi agreed. “But anguish is for later. I’ve heard Akuje call out again. If he senses something had changed near the ruins, it might guide him into hunting us. We need to get the others so I can lead you to this shrine of his. I’m sorry I was being so stupid. I should have known where he would conceal himself to work some sort of secret magic.”

Together, they trotted as fast as Yokïmi could manage to where the others were assembled. They had all taken the time to bind their wounds as best they could. Yokïmi suspected that Sylnie had offered up more of her healing magic.

The half-folk Cleric took one look at her crystalline companion and rushed over to her. “Sweet Narrum, you look like you’ve been through one of the less pleasant hells.”

“Can’t deny it feels that way.” Yokïmi sank to a fallen log, sucking in deep, heaving breaths after the taxing run. She hated feeling this depleted.

“What of the serpentian?” Kharr growled from where he had plopped himself on the ground to nurse his wounds.

Yokïmi gave a mournful shake of her head. She trusted in her Curse that the rest of them would be able to read her emotions clearly enough that they would leave the subject alone.

“Let me help,” Sylnie offered quietly. Waiting for a permissive nod, Sylnie placed a warm palm on Yokïmi’s back and chanted a quick prayer. “Merciful Narrum, help this child recover from her trials. She has returned one of your own to rest. Grant her relief from the strain.”

Yokïmi felt the glow in her chest and the sense of her Resilience returning. It didn’t flood all the way back, but it was enough that the worst of her fatigue washed away. It was also enough that she knew she could manage another spell or two, though that would only serve to exhaust her again.

She smiled over her shoulder at the Cleric. “Thanks.”

“The praise belongs with Narrum,” Sylnie answered with a beatific smile of her own, fully at peace with the fact that her power stemmed from her god and that she was only the vessel. “Besides, I needed to give you your breath back so you could tell us where we’re going now. Avalessa said it wasn’t in the ruins, though we were all sure that in our visions, we saw the symbols of your family’s house and a place that looked like where a noble might live.”

“Yeah,” Parrun said, aiming for a light tone to brighten all their moods away from the sense of defeat. “Cough it up so we can go get into even more trouble.”

Yokïmi organized her thoughts so they wouldn’t come out in a jumble. “Your visions weren’t wrong. My brother always felt like an outsider. Our eldest brother, Mamura, built a small keep near one of our southern towns. The people of that town loved him and welcomed him as their own. He treated it like his own private fiefdom on my father’s lands, and he did well by them.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I remember the day Akuje demanded the same. We were both so young, barely more than twelve if I remember. Father refused, saying Akuje was too young. What he really meant to say was immature. He would have destroyed any hamlet he sought to control.” She shrugged. “In the end, my father gave him a large cottage retreat all to his own. It would have our family markings. And it was built for one of our family’s nobles. That could very well be what your visions were showing you.”

“You think he built the shrine there?”

“It’s a fortified set of buildings. Not quite a keep, but made mostly from stone. You might think it a small keep if you didn’t know any better. He spent so much time there. For a while, there were servants assigned to it, but he drove them away. I remember hearing that he went so far as to forbid anyone from every going there. That was odd, since he loved privilege over privacy. But if he constructed a secret ritual site, it makes sense that he would ward them all away.” She shook her head again, angry at herself for not picking up on those details earlier.

“Can you take us there?” Kharr demanded.

“It’s a couple hours journey. Maybe four if the bridge at the Va’tanak stream has been washed out or destroyed.”

RRRRhhhhuuummmmmmmmmuuuurrrggghhh!

As the roar finished rattling through them, Parrun’s head snapped in one direction to the next, his ears twitching as he tried to pick out the source. “Tell me we’re headed in the opposite way to that. I’m saying… that was southeast.”

“Then let’s hope you’re wrong, my friend.” Yokïmi found a weak smile for his efforts at cheer despite the danger. “Because his retreat is mostly to the east, and south enough that it is not in view of where the Su’bora turns toward the southern coast.”

“Isn’t that fulken perfect,” the predoran snorted.

“Don’t complain.” Kharr smirked back at him. “We’re here to kill this monster, whatever it is. If it’s hunting us, then at least we don’t have to go chasing after it once we’ve cut its legs out from under it.”

“And you’re sure that’s what we’ll be able to do at the shrine?” Yokïmi pressed them.

Avalessa nodded, showing no trace of doubt. “It’s what all our gods showed us. That place is the key to defeating him. We need to get there and unlock its secrets. If we do, then the monster can be slain.”

“Then let’s go and see it done.” Yokïmi cobbled her strength together once more, picked herself off her makeshift seat, and started off into the faelapse-altered landscape, having no doubt that the others would be close behind.

*          *          *

The companions spread out as they filtered through the clearing that surrounded the cottage-keep. Yokïmi didn’t recall it being this extensive. There was a half-wall around the perimeter and a dozen outbuildings; everything from sheds to stables to a servant residence, and all of it overgrown with grass and trees. They were too invasive for this to have begun when the faelapses started. Akuje must have allowed all of it to fall into disrepair years before. Only the central cottage looks intact.

Following that as her guide, she slipped soundlessly over the outer wall and crept inward. The others found their own way over, their line stretching twenty feet in either direction from Yokïmi. Their focus never wavered from the structure, watching for any signs of movement or habitation.

A chitter from directly on Avalessa’s left broke the spell. The elf paused, bringing the rest of the line to a stall. She glanced up to see a bouncing squirrel frantically trying to get her attention. Looking somewhat charmed, she called up to it, “What has you so excited, little one?”

A snarl erupted from inside the open stable doors less than ten paces ahead of Avalessa. Had she continued at her previous pace, she would have been directly in front of the opening. As it was, when the trio of wolf-fae exploded out of the dark, their ambush lost much of its sting.

The squirrel let out a terrified squeak and vanished further up onto the roof.

Compared to other animal distortions they had seen, these were tame. They were larger, halfway to being considered dire wolves. A thick coat of spines took the place of the hair along their backs. When they opened their maws to snarl, their tongues lashed out to incredible lengths. It was like they had hints of porcupine and frog wrapped up in their fae-spawned mix.

Avalessa had time to grab up two of her chakram and send both hurling into the jaws of the wolf-creatures. One was snagged out of the air by one of those tongues and sucked between the wolf’s jaws without any of the lethal spin and velocity the weapons needed to do damage. The wolf-fae chewed at the adamantine, chipped a couple teeth, and spat it onto the ground with an irritable growl.

The second sizzled in with all its intended power, biting into the second monster’s nose. It sliced off the top of its head, then lodged into the thick wood on the stables behind it, the angle and momentum wrong for bouncing back into Avalessa’s hand.

* Critical Wound *

(-210)

* Dead *

The third wolf-fae carried on its running attack. Its snapping tongue whipped out to latch onto Avalessa’s upper arm and dragged her off balance. The elastic motion helped guide the beast’s jaw onto her bicep where its jagged teeth ripped into her bare skin.

{-31}

Using its weight, the wolf-fae shook its head, tearing the wound wider while yanking her off her feet. Avalessa screamed as she was hauled along the ground, the rough gravel raking at her side.

{-28}

* Tripped *

{-7}

Yokïmi gritted her teeth as she dipped into the well of her magic once again. She couldn’t stand to let the corrupted wolf abuse her lover any further. In a rush of words, she conjured the cutting pink energy of her Signature Spell and slashed it into the beast gnawing on the elf.

{-89}

* Dead *

The magic carved out the heart of the creature, leaving its ribcage in a bloody ruin. It slumped away from the elf’s arm, allowing her to cradle it in on herself as she whimpered in pain.

Sylnie raced over, skidding to her knees by the other woman’s side. “Hold on. I’ll banish the pain.” She began to whisper a prayer, bringing a healing glow to her palms that channeled soothing power into the elf.

With a battle cry, Kharr heaved his spear to intercept the last of the wolf-fae as it lunged at the pair. His throw ran right through the beast, jamming into the wooden wall of the stables so that the creature couldn’t continue its pounce.

{-72}

* Pinned *

The corrupted animal continued to writhe in a ferocious effort to tear itself free, grinding against the haft of the spear. It might have killed itself with its efforts, but Parrun wasn’t willing to chance it. He came close enough to take careful aim and then launched a dagger into the suffering creature’s eye, then on into its brain.

(-33)

* Dead *

While the gnoll and mashashi worked to free their weapons, Yokïmi walked over to retrieve Avalessa’s ring weapons. She knelt by the elf’s side opposite the Cleric. “Saved you the trouble.”

“Thanks. If it wasn’t for that little critter, they might have gotten a few more chunks out of me.”

“Good thing they didn’t. I don’t have a whole lot of strength left for healing,” Sylnie admitted.

Yokïmi smiled, glancing up at the roof where the squirrel had vanished. “I told it to do that.’

“Uh huh. Sure, you did,” Avalessa said in a placating voice.

“I did! I told it to come look after you.”

“Are you sure it was even the same squirrel?”

“I swear to the Nature Goddess that it had the same markings.”

“Seems more likely Oleura herself sent it to warn me,” Avalessa teased. “But I appreciate you trying to send protectors after me.”

“Your favorite kind. I figured you might actually listen to animals once in a while. To stop you from getting killed before I’ve had enough of you,” Yokïmi whispered the last sentence, running a tender hand down the elf’s back. Before she could get any mushier and anger Sylnie so soon after the gift of her healing, Yokïmi tossed her head toward the cottage. “Come on. Let’s find out for certain that we’ve found it.”

Regaining themselves, the group remained more tightly knit as they approached the main entrance to the central structure.

“See a back way in?” Parrun whispered, glancing left and right.

“There,” Yokïmi pointed down the right side of the building. She had only been there once but remembered the layout. “But it’s been sealed over.”

Avalessa tested the front door. “Unsealed.”

“I’ll slip in first,” Parrun offered. He gave a small shiver, rolled his neck, then nodded for her to open the door a crack. The Mystic did so, and he vanished inside. He was only out of sight for a minute, then returned. “This is it. No doubt about it. Empty as far as I can tell.” He slipped back inside.

This time, the rest followed. Yokïmi led the way, peering left and right with the intention of picking out differences. But she wasn’t really necessary. The changes were plain to see.

The whole interior had been reshaped into a single chamber. Every element of the previous rooms that held their family crest or referenced the falcon which was their family totem had been repositioned along the walls, as if to exaggerate how this was a place of the Kikuchi family power.

But layered over those symbols were hundreds of others. The variety was stunning. Yokïmi was a debutante in the field of magical power, but even her brief studies recognized magical rune symbols from dozens of cultures all woven together in a pattern that was beautiful, majestic, and yet somehow terrifying in their primal power.

“There are things missing,” Yokïmi whispered.

The others were fanning out, absorbing the same details. They hadn’t drifted so far that they missed her words in the still air.

It was Sylnie who asked, “What do you mean?”

“I can’t decipher any of this. The ritual is incredibly complex. It makes sense. One of my former masters told me of spells designed for those who didn’t have the personal power to channel magic themselves. I imagined something as intricate as this.”

“But you said something was missing.”

Yokïmi frowned at her own choice of words. She knelt down and brushed her fingers through a whorl of lines on the floor. The pattern formed a circle that, to her magical training, was clearly meant to have an item placed within it. “Not missing. Spent. The power of this ritual has already been spent.”

Avalessa was latching on to key details as prowled over the room. “That falcon statue. That crest. I’ve seen them before. This is the place!”

Sylnie was nodding as well. Her subdued smiles confirmed that the remade cottage matched her own vision.

“This is where we can carve the heart out of the monster’s power and recreate my people’s artifact,” Kharr said with his own fierce grin.

“If there was any chance of being vulnerable, would he leave it unguarded?” Parrun asked. He was creeping around the edges of the room, keeping clear of the magical symbology as if it might burn if he touched it. That surprised Yokïmi, since he was the only other one with the magical training to understand what they were seeing.

“Destroying these symbols won’t do anything,” she said with as much confidence as she could. “Without the gift from Kharr’s god, our presence here would be meaningless.”

“Instead, it could not hold more meaning!” Kharr stomped out into the center, showing no respect at all for the chamber. “Where was it? Where did he place the spear?”

Changing the way she was looking at the crafted symbols, Yokïmi tried to puzzle it through. I can’t follow the mechanics of the entire spell. It’s beyond me. But there is a flow to it. Like knowing part of a language and being able to tell that a certain word is meant to indicate an action or a thing.

Her steps were silent as she padded over the symbols, improving her sense of their flow. The spear was an artifact. If what Kharr says is true, it could be sent into the afterlife and kill the avatar of a hunting god. Could Akuje have needed a more powerful item? This is the only one which caused the god’s minions to send a champion to retrieve it. Which means its sacrifice was probably the true power source for the spell. It was the heart.

“There,” Yokïmi said, stopping at the apex of the runes. It was so clearly a focal point. The channels would allow the power of any material sacrificed in this spot to reach out to everywhere else in the spell’s network. Unwilling to trust herself alone when so much was depending on it, she asked, “Parrun?”

The mashashi edged forward, doing his best to avoid touching any of the symbols. There wasn’t any sign of curiosity in him. Only an intent concentration, obviously willing to use whatever expertise he had, but also clearly not happy about messing with the potent magic.

However nervous he was, his sharp eyes clicked from one rune to the next, trying to read the same patterns that Yokïmi had followed. At last, he arrived at spot directly across the same open ring as she had selected.

“Yeah. This is it. Katashi would probably have me whipped for taking so long coming up with it, but if the spell was going to use a major artifact, this seems like the only real choice.”

She gave him a softly chastising scowl for suggesting her Farrum could be so cruel, but said nothing. She knew it was merely his dark humor trying to dispel the tension he was feeling. “What’s up with you?” she asked in a low enough voice that the others might not hear. “You practiced magic, but you’re acting scared of it here.”

“Something went wrong in here. Can’t you feel it? The residual energy is making my skin crawl.” He shivered again. “When I was first starting as an apprentice, I found a book with a ritual in it. Not anything like this. It said it would keep my fur continuously clean. Sounded like a great idea at the time. Only I did it wrong. I left so much excess energy in the air that when I set it off, I set the whole room on fire and came within a whisker of burning our Sage-Master’s home down.”

He gestured around them. “I’m getting that same feeling, and this time I know enough to pay attention to it. That gnoll is going to use Divine magic to mess with this ritual, and I don’t like what could happen.”

“We’ve come too far to not let him try,” Yokïmi answered.

“Which is why I’m going to be standing in that corner where I can tuck behind that half-wall of stone when he does it,” Parrun insisted, then shuffled off to do precisely that.

Beginning to wish she could do the same, Yokïmi faced the others, centering on Kharr. “Here. This is where your god’s spear lay.”

The gnoll thumped his pack to the ground. Ripping open one pouch he had never touched over their journey together, his short-clawed hands pulled out a circular, golden plate with four knobby protrusions on one side. Yokïmi quickly identified as feet when he placed it in the ring she had identified, making this a small platform.

No. A stand, she realized as she saw the only feature on the opposite side. It was a tall, open cup, about two inches across and six high. It was not a difficult puzzle to figure out that the haft of his spear would fit into it perfectly.

More surprisingly, when he put the stand into the magic circle, it fit perfectly over the available space as if crafted to be there. Kharr let out a deeply satisfied rumble from deep in his chest. “You are right. This is where it lay. The Oracle was right. You were indeed meant to come with us.”

For perhaps the first time in his presence, Yokïmi had no sense that he was leering at her, if only from the corner of his eye. His entire focus was on that item. She pulled back, not quite so far as Parrun but enough to grant him all the space he needed.

Avalessa and Sylnie drifted outward, forming a triangle around him at about the same distance. While they were not utterly fixated on the gnoll’s ritual, there was undeniable interest to see this thing done after going through such efforts to make it here.

Other than the golden stand, Kharr had taken only his spear up to the spot. He reached up and removed the steel tip by cutting the lashings with his claws and working the mechanical pins loose. He cast the metal behind him, already forgotten as if he had no intention of reclaiming it. Placing the lower end into the golden cup, he rammed it down with the lack of subtlety Yokïmi suspected the brute used with any female he coupled with.

Along the haft, amidst the primal rune pattern that covered it, there were two swirls in the shape of hand prints. The gnoll wrapped his meaty paws around the shaft at those points, locking himself into place like he was anticipating pain. Then with a tone of authority, fueled by not only his own substantial arrogance but also the knowledge that he was fulfilling his god-delivered Quest, he spoke a single power phrase. “Mag’la dool vaug mishk lagh! Return to me the Spear of Szurr!”

Rich golden light flooded up the runes along the spear haft, emanating from the stand below. The rising glow filled every part of the design, not stopping until it spilled from the spear’s top in a cone of shimmering, glittering radiance.

A throbbing pulse pushed Kharr back from the spear. He backed away with the cautious respect that comes from having a god known for being mad and hunting his own people through the afterlife. His eyes remained wide and his face filled with eager expectation.

Inside the energy cone, a small vortex began to form. At first, it was a shapeless swirl that spiraled horizontally around the cone’s central, vertical axis. As the speed of it increased, certain points of the swirling vortex began to collapse inward. Yokïmi couldn’t see a pattern to it immediately, but soon believed she saw the distinct shape of a spear tip forming.

The floor rattled below her feet. A scattering of dust was kicked into the air and floated on a soft draft of wind that had spawned from nowhere. Yokïmi couldn’t decide why, but it didn’t feel like part of the magic happening in the center of the room.

Even as the thought crossed her mind, the sensation of tingling, electrical energy crackled along her skin, making the nigh-invisible hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

“What is that?” As fascinated as she was by the spear’s formation, Parrun’s warning hadn’t vanished from her mind. Now she could sense it, and he was right. There was the undeniable sensation of something building.

Avalessa looked no less agitated. Elves existed with magic all their lives, and their sensitivity to it was a well-established fact. “I don’t know.”

The rattle of the stonework under their feet turned into a rumble that rivaled any fire mountain eruption for intensity. The dust that had been gently disturbed was now becoming more agitated. Rather than moving in a united, singular direction, the individual motes wobbled as if each one was caught up in a unique air current all its own. It made for a dizzying array of movement that threatened to become nauseating if she looked at it much longer. A faint, burnt smell lingered in her nose, making her wonder if the dust particles might actually be ash.

Mmmllllaaaahhh.

It was a sound Yokïmi never thought could exist. She swore she heard the stone around the outer edges of the chamber melting into a ring-shaped blob of mud. Two breaks in the mud appeared as the syrupy stuff was supernaturally sucked along the periphery toward two distinct points: one on the room’s left and one on the right. As the mud piled up at both spots, it began to take real shape. The forms stood upright, but they had no legs. Their bulky torsos grew from a blobby base. Each gained four club-like arms unevenly scattered around their central mass. Their necks grew so thick that it seemed their heads grew right from their shoulders.

The shape of those heads was nothing but an ungainly, globular chunk. But then the dust that was alive in the room wafted quickly toward them. The motes split, half going to one and half to the other muddy figure. The dust only gathered upon the face, jamming into the slime and began to pile up until actual features began to form.

What really made Yokïmi gasp was that she recognized those faces. They were distorted, much wider than they had been in life. But the memories of those faces were not so distant in her past. They weren’t pleasant recollections. Always, they were connected with Akuje, standing behind his shoulders in support as proper cronies did, no matter how obnoxious their leader was being.

But there was nothing of the snide, mocking attitude she was used to seeing on these smeared, blobbish faces. If she was to pick any description, it would be closer to a crude form of anger that was painting on their expressions.

“End this magic. Or die.”

The blobs spoke in unison, the syllables thick and smeared as one would expect as they emerged from throats clogged with mud. Yokïmi felt forced into imagining herself drowned in swampy filth by those linked voices.

“Tarou? Rikotu?” Yokïmi gasped out, more to prove that she could still speak than for any hope that using the names would have any impact.

“What are they?” Sylnie blurted out.

“Once Akuje’s cohorts,” Yokïmi replied, then shook her head in despair. “Now? I’ve no idea what the fae has made them.”

“Some sort of fulken mud golems!” Parrun hissed from his hidden spot along the wall.

The two monstrosities didn’t walk so much as lumber from the spots where they had grown. Without legs, their bases rippled in shape, projecting part of their bulk until they glopped forward, then repeated the same in what looked like an awkward advance. They weren’t fast, but they didn’t need to be. They ambled right for the central ring where the staff stood glowing.

“No!” Kharr bellowed. “Nothing shall stop the return of Aufflasiss’ gift!” He ran right into the Tarou golem. He yanked the two hatchets from his war belt, hacking ferociously into the creature’s bulk. The blades bit in, but passed right through, taking no more than a few droplets of mud with them on each pass. Against the full size of the golem, the result was pitiful.

(-1)  (-2)  (-1)  (-1)  (-1)  (-2)  (-1)

With a blubbering moan, the golem brought one of its clubbish arms around in a wide arc, slamming into the gnoll and sending him sailing backward, his arms pinwheeling as he tried to fall without landing badly.

[-38]

Kharr didn’t keep his feet, unable to bring his heels back under him before landing. But he bounced back into a combat crouch like he had springs in his legs, snarling in absolute hate.

Avalessa was nearly as quick at launching her own attack. The cottage walls offered endless angles for her to use, and her first two chakram attacks were perfect. The adamantine disks cut right through the Rikotu golem, then pinged off the stone edges she had aimed for, ricocheted off a wooden beam and back to her hands.

(-3)  (-4)

The tags that rose from the golem were only larger because the disks were wider than Kharr’s hatchets, carrying a few added droplets of muck out the far side. The holes they created sealed up almost as soon as they were through, and their passage seemed to cause the golem no discomfort whatsoever.

Parrun had looked ready to dive in with one of his knives, but he rejected the move at the complete failure of far bigger weapons doing any damage. Cursing, he quickly wove his hands through the symbols for a Fire Bolt spell, then sent the magic lancing out at Rikotu’s back.

{-1}

The impact of the fire missile dislodged a small chunk of it, but otherwise caused no other effect. The fire was immediately smothered by the wet sludge of the creature’s body.

That made Yokïmi reconsider the use of her last Razor Beam. She only had the energy to try it once, and from everything she’d just seen, any cut she made would do precisely nothing. Maybe I could try for the head. If I disrupt those dust-faces, maybe that will make a difference. As soon as the thought came to her, she dismissed it as wasted energy. Wishful thinking is not going to solve this. Think. Think!

Sylnie made her own attempt seconds later. The Cleric had to be running low on her own ability to summon Divine aid, for she didn’t make any effort to conjure her spectral armor. She brought only one of her floating hammers to life. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it hurtling into the Tarou-golem, where it thumped heavily into its chest before returning to her side. The indent she caused soon bulged out again, leaving no visible difference.

[-0]

“Nothing hurts the damned things!” Parrun unslung his pack and yanked out a leather-bound tome that Yokïmi knew was his spellbook. Risking the casting of any spell without extensive practice was risky, as likely to tear a person’s body apart with misdirected magical energy, but he was clearly desperate enough to go seeking some other solution among the small selection of spells he’d been given to eventually learn.

Yokïmi wished she had one of her own. The only way she could have brought it along would have been in their mule’s packs, and that would have been too easy to lose if the animal got killed or chased off. She’d left her own version gifted by her Farrum back in the Sanctuary. Until she returned, the spells she had already mastered were her only options.

“They can be hurt,” Kharr snarled. “We did it. And if they can be hurt, no matter how little, then they can be killed!” He let out a wild laugh, then tossed his hatchets to each side. Leaving them to clatter to the floor, his laugh distorted further into an insane bray. He charged in at the Tarou-golem, impacting with his whole body. He wasn’t able to push the fae-creature back. It simply weighed too much. But he forced it to a stand-still.

As soon as he connected, the gnoll’s claws dug deeply into the golem’s sides. He didn’t yank them out cleanly. Rather, like he was tunneling into the ground, he scooped his fingers and ripped out two massive globs of the muddy flesh.

{-28}  {-31}

That got the golem’s attention. It let out another of those blubbering moans, then whacked at the gnoll with as many of its hands as it could bring to bear. Height-wise, the creature wasn’t much taller, and the gnoll was broad across the chest. Wedged in among the golem’s arms as he was, the fae-creature couldn’t get good leverage to deliver powerful, crushing blows. It beat again and again against the hyinakin, but the strikes ended up being bruising but not deadly.

[-21]  [-18]  [-16]  [-19]  [-20]

Kharr was being beaten hard, but he was lost in the grip of battle mania. He brushed off the pain and kept tearing chunks out of the golem.

{-33}  {-34}  {-36}  {-37}  {-51} {-49}

They were in a war of attrition, and the gnoll seemed to be winning. The deeper he tunneled, the larger were the gobs of mud-flesh he was able to dredge out onto the floor. At one point, he howled and sank his maw into the thing, chomped out a hunk of the muck and spat it behind him.

{-11}

He was utterly mad, ignoring the blows raining down on him.

[-18]  [-17]  [-18]  [-20]

Pummeled again and again, he was like a thing possessed. Refusing to accept that his strength could give out, Kharr pushed his way physically inside the golem, then with a massive surge, he threw his shoulders wide and pushed outward in as many directions as he could with as many limbs as he could.

* Critical Wound *

{-519}

* Dead *

A riot of slurry chunks rained in all directions as the golem exploded. The wet smack of the globs hitting the floor and walls was a disgusting yet welcome barrage on Yokïmi’s senses.

Kharr tumbled to the ground, battered to the point of collapse. His moment of victory faded, and he fell to his hands and knees as his endurance finally ran out. He let out one final cough of hideous laughter. “Can’t believe that fuhhkin worked.” Then he tumbled to the side and splayed out on the floor, swooning on the edge of unconsciousness.

Unfazed by the loss, the Rikotu-golem lumbered that much closer to the glowing spear in the center. The golden light was still spilling forth. The vortex was spinning tighter and faster, and the shape of the spear’s tip was nearly solid. But it wasn’t fully real yet, and Yokïmi was sure that any disruption would either cause the magic to fail or create a backlash that would kill them all.

“We need to stop it!” she cried.

“I can’t do what Kharr just did!” Parrun screamed back.

None of us can. Yokïmi scrambled for another idea, needing inspiration. Then it came to her. We don’t need a new idea. We just need our brute to have the strength to try it again. Her head snapped toward the half-folk Cleric.

Sylnie was in the midst of another hammer throw. She sent it smacking into the remaining golem’s face this time, trying to make the mud-creature sway backward from the impact.

[-0]

She wasn’t having any luck, and irritation was cracking through her typically calm, intense battle expression.

“Heal Kharr!” Yokïmi yelled at her.

The Cleric risked a glance her way, then set herself to ward off a blow from the golem as it trudged closer. “I don’t know if I can!”

“You need to try. It’s all we have. We’ll do what we can to hold it, but we need Kharr’s strength right now!” With that, Yokïmi gave her best impression of a battle yell and charged in at the golem. She went in low, braced for a shoulder impact, and rammed into the mud-fae’s bulk right at the spot it was trying to roll itself forward through weight displacement.

Catching on to what she was trying to do, Avalessa ceased her efforts to cut into it with her chakram and threw her own sleight body into the effort. She impacted on the far side, and both women dug in their feet and tried to stop the thing from moving any further.

With a groan, knowing he was about to feel pain, Parrun came in between them with nasty growl of his own and jammed his hands into the muck, tearing out smaller handfuls in between his efforts to press the golem backward.

{-12}  {-13}  {-11}  {-12}

All three of them combined weren’t the equal of Kharr’s raw strength. The golem was hampered, but it still ponderously pushed them back half a step. As it did, the mud-creature swept one arm down and belted Avalessa across the side of her body.

[-34]

* Tripped *

* Stunned *

The elf went flying sideways, tucking her arms in so her roll didn’t cause her even more serious damage. She came to a slumping halt near one of the side walls, breathing heavily as she sought to shake off the daze.

Another of the golem’s arms clubbed down against Yokïmi’s shoulder, smashing her sideways and casting her away like another annoyance.

[-31]

* Stunned *

Her martial art training allowed her to roll with the blow a little better, saving her from being struck prone. But though she popped back up into a low combat crouch, she leaned her back against the nearby wall to regain her focus and balance, knowing that she’d been Stunned. The dizziness would be a huge disadvantage if she reengaged. But I don’t have time to think on it too long.

Parrun continued his vicious clawing, not even caring that the golem was no longer being held back by the other two. His claws never ceased chewing away at the muddy material, copying their gnoll companion’s tactics as best he could.

{-12}  {-13}  {-11}  {-15}

He finally dug through the outer shell enough to get one damage tag to climb a little higher, as if he’d hit a layer that was just a tad more sensitive.

The Rikotu-golem had had enough. It reached down and plucked the troublesome mashashi off the ground and hurled him mightily into one of the walls over twenty feet away.

[-42]

* Tripped *

* Rattled *

* Fear: Moderate *

Parrun lay crumbled on the ground and groaned, not even trying to rise. Yokïmi doubted he could, having seen the Rattled tag roll off him. That was a step up from being Stunned and was as good as a death sentence if it happened in the midst of an active conflict. Fortunately, he was too far off now for the golem to follow through with a killing blow that the mashashi might not even see coming in his state.

She was just summoning her courage and the scraps of her remaining endurance for one more attempt to delay when a bellowing roar echoed over the chamber. Her eyes flashed to where Kharr had fallen.

The gnoll DreamEater was on his feet. His whole body was seething as he worked himself back into a battle mindset. At his feet, Sylnie had collapsed, her eyes looking bleary as she sucked in heavy breaths, too weak to move or even sit upright. A silver glow was just fading from Kharr’s skin. He let out another howl, pumping himself into a fury.

Then he unleashed himself. The gnoll dashed across the room and impacted with the golem only a few steps before it could reach out and disrupt the golden staff. Perhaps because he knew the attack could be effective or perhaps aided by the chunks Parrun had already torn out, the gnoll tunneled in even faster and to deadlier effect.

{-32}  {-32}  {-42}  {-41}  {-51}  {-56}

Once again, the golem reacted with hammering blows to his back and sides, trying to force the barbaric attacker back out of reach so it could land more telling blows of its own.

[-23]  [-21]  [-22]  [-20]

But there was no stopping the enraged Kharr. Once more he dug in so completely that he was able to crawl right into the golem’s mucky interior and then erupt outward so that the mud-fae was blown apart in another shower of foul remains.

* Critical Wound *

{-531}

* Dead *

This time, Kharr only went to one knee. He was utterly filthy from head to claws. But though he was beaten and spent, his eyes flashed up to the top of the spear shaft he had carried halfway around the world.

The cone of light faded away, leaving only the rapidly spinning spear tip at its heart. It was emitting a high-pitched hum which began to diminish as the blurring object slowed and then finally came to a stop. It sank down majestically toward the waiting haft.

Kharr whispered reverently, “The Spear of Szurr. It is whole again!”

Yokïmi absorbed the details of the artifact with breathless wonder. As a noble, she’d seen more than her fair share of magical items filter through her father’s castle and be used by his minions. But this was the first time seeing an item crafted by the hands of a god and which had supposedly tasted the blood of hundreds if not thousands of godly avatars.

The shape of the spear was remarkable in its clean simplicity. It suited the mad Hyinakin God that there were no flourishes or superficial accents. It was a tool of battle, meant to cut deeply into flesh and seek out the vital spots within. Etched into its surface were the same primal runes as the spear’s haft.

The metal was one she had never seen before. It was like gold, but like some of the brightness had been sucked out of it. However, against the shadowy gold, shimmers of white radiance passed over it even though the lighting conditions weren’t changing.

“What is that made of?” she breathed.

Sounding equally struck, Avalessa whispered, “Aethervult. Another of the Glorious Metals. It is the bane to all things fae. I’ve only ever seen one item made of it in all my years.” As an elf, that statement carried more than a little weight.

The sinking spear tip settled into place upon the haft. A quiet, sizzle could be heard as the two pieces were magically joined into one weapon. As the union was made, a spherical pulse of pure white light burst outward and spread to the edges of the room and then right through the walls. The speed of the wave was only increasing, and Yokïmi had the impression that it wasn’t going to stop until it had gone outward for miles. Perhaps right to the edge of the faelapse area that was created when this spear was sacrificed. If aethervult can kill fae, why not undo the wild realm’s magic?

She didn’t have time to contemplate that for long. As the pulse swept through her, a blinding pain ripped through the core of her, driving her to her knees. Her fingers clenched hard enough to draw clear blood from her palms, which dripped down and became water-clear patterns on the ground.

Her vision came back slowly from being fully whited out, then smears that reduced to spots and finally allowed her to see again.

Avalessa was by her left side, holding her arm. Parrun was on her right, scootched in close and concern painted plainly on his face. It was the mashashi who asked, “What happened?”

“I… I don’t know. Whatever that was, I felt it right to my bones.”

She was cut off by a terrifying roar from off in the distance.

RRRRooooaaarrrrraaarrrgghhhhhh!

It was the same monster they’d been hearing, probably Akuje. There was no doubt that massive cry came from the same throat. But there was a different note to it this time. A note of pain. A pain that had come as that wave of magic spread outward from the spear.

Sylnie raised a weak hand and clenched it in victory. “It worked. We’ve hurt him!”

“But we’ve also hurt you?” Avalessa asked, her concern still focused on her crystalline lover.

“Hold on,” Yokïmi said. She considered pressing her knuckles together to check her status and recent changes, but she wasn’t sure if these changes would register there. Instead, she mentally summoned her orb and delved into a full accounting of her status. It didn’t take long for her to find the differences under the listing for her Gifts, Quirks, and Curses.

Gifts:

Poison Immunity (Level 3)

Disease Immunity (Level 5)

Prolonged Life (Level 3)

Augmented Hunger Resistance (Level 3)

Augmented Thirst Resistance (Level 1)

Quirks:

Embedded Phantom Body Sheath (Diamond Focal Point)

Doom of the Sanctuary Guardian (Level: Epic)

Curses:

Physical Definition Allergy (Level: Ascendant)

Emotional Transparency (Level: Superior)

Mental Shield Weakness (Level: Evolved)

There was no change to the Quirks, since neither of them was connected to the wish magic her brother had used on her.

But the unintentional Gifts he had given her had definitely shifted. Almost all of them had been weakened. Her eyes went to her glass skin, but saw no change to that. Her fundamental nature remained the same: she was transfigured permanently into a Crystalline Human.

Though she mourned the loss of those Gifts, her future was far more dominated by the Curses. She let out a soft cheer as she saw each one had been reduced one level. As much as the second two were vulnerabilities that could be attacked and thus might be what killed her, it was the first on the list that demanded that she remain naked and vulnerable to the elements, enemy weapons, and leering eyes.

The problem hadn’t vanished. Ascendant Level magic was still the province of powerful Wizards and supernatural creatures. Finding a way to undo the Curse would still be the subject of a Quest. But it was far more likely she could find a solution compared to unmaking an Epic Level Curse. This had potentially taken years off her pursuit to have them all reversed.

Banishing her orb, she reached out and clutched at both her lover and her friend. Her smile bloomed wide and shining so brightly that it would overcome her low Aura scores and make an impact on anyone. “The effect was real. It might have helped save me. Only time will tell.” Her teeth clenched as she followed the thought through. “Which means it did something to Akuje’s powers. We haven’t even caught sight of him yet, so there’s no way to tell how much.”

Parrun’s ears went flat. “We feared he might roam closer if he sensed the fight at the ruins. Now he has to have sensed this.

“Unless he’s lost all of his mind, he’ll have to realize the only place anyone could strike at the magic fueling his power would be to come here,” Yokïmi agreed.

“Taliskhan died facing down a creature created by the magic your brother created,” Parrun warned. He pointed across at Sylnie, who was still swooning from her healing efforts, and Kharr, who was standing in awe before the spear but on shaky legs, his body pummeled all over by the mud golem fists. “We’re not exactly at our full strength here. Do we have the time to flee? Regroup and come back stronger?”

His answer came from outside in the form of a new roar.

RRRRhhhhaaaarrruuummmmmmmrrrggghhh!

There was added bite to the monstrous yell. It might be Yokïmi’s imagination, but she swore she read anger woven into that sound. Worst yet, though the echoes over the valley still made it harder to tell, she was sure it was getting closer.

As was Avalessa. She met Parrun’s eyes. “He’ll hunt us if we flee. He’ll run us into the ground.”

“Then what?”

“The spear,” Yokïmi said, her eyes locking on the magical artifact. “Recreating it hurt him. Didn’t we say earlier that wish magic is conjured from the fae? I saw him. He was being physically changed even though the faelapses hadn’t started. It was like he was channeling so much power through his body that he couldn’t contain it. You said he’s become a monster. He’s so corrupted that both Narrum and Oberon have sent champions to see him destroyed. A spear made of aethervult will have to have an effect on him.”

Avalessa nodded, then switched her focus to Kharr. “Well? You’ve got what you came for. I know that’s a holy relic for your people. Will you use it to help us kill him?”

The gnoll remained fixated on the spear, a tag hovering above his head.

* Enraptured: Severe *

“Kharr!” the Mystic snapped.

The tag vanished as the gnoll regained his senses. He shook his head and growled at her. “What?”

She repeated herself. “This spear. It’s meant for killing. These avatars your god makes must be woven from threads of the fae realm. Will you use it to break the fae magic in this monster?”

Kharr wavered. For a sickening moment, it looked like he might betray them, leaving them to their fight. But then he reached out and grasped hold of the spear on those special markings where he had held it before. Laying claim to the godly weapon, he slid it from the golden stand and brought it into a combat hold. “My vision was clear. Only if I walk from this place with the three of you alive at my side will I live to place the spear back in Aufflasiss’ temple. Such is my doom. And so shall I face this creature alongside you.”

“But we need to give Kharr his chance. This monster will not stand still waiting to be struck.” Sylnie managed to say from where she lay.

“We need a weakness,” Parrun mused softly.

Inspiration came to Yokïmi once again, the simplicity of the idea dawning on her along with a cold chill. She was going to be risking her life again. “I’m his weakness.”

“What?” Avalessa demanded.

“I’m not sure what is left of his mind. But if only a shred remains, he will recognize me. He will see me and know that I’ve come to kill him. We were born as twins. There are some links that never fade. If he sees me, he will see nothing else until I am dead.”

“You want us to use you as bait…?” The elf trailed off, unsure if she could believe the words she’d spoken.

“I did it once with a friendly zaskran. Guess this is the gods' way of getting revenge on me for that,” Yokïmi said, trying to make light of it.

“If… if this fails, he’ll rip you apart before we can do anything.”

“Perhaps,” Yokïmi allowed, then found a nervous smile. “Though offer me some credit. I’ve learned from both Taliskhan and Haruto how to dodge.”

“This won’t be a sparring match, and his fury will out-do the most enraged bull that has ever gored a careless rancher with a heavy whip hand!”

Yokïmi could hear the affection creating the elf’s fears. She placed a warm hand on top of her lover’s and squeezed it tight. “Then we dare not fail.”

Chapter 21

RRRRhhhhooaaarrrruuuuuuurrrggghhh!

The trap might have been Yokïmi’s idea, but that didn’t mean the sound of that horrible roar didn’t make her blood run cold, pumped by her suddenly racing heart. She stretched her hands then balled them into fists, alternating back and forth in nervous anticipation. She’d deliberately avoided taking up a weapon, even though her low-level Ekanshin style would be useless against the monstrosity she could hear crashing through the forest. She wanted nothing that would prevent her brother from seeing her as a target.

She was standing in the courtyard of Akuje’s own manse. Seeing her there was sure to anger him even further, as would the knowledge that she was responsible for the pain he’d already felt when they reconstituted the spear. The half-wall surrounding the compound wouldn’t conceal everything, but it gave them the double benefit of some cover and a way to funnel the monster right at her through the open gate.

The challenge was ensuring he came from that direction. The obvious idea was using someone as a lure, but none of them were confident that they could outrun whatever Akuje had become. Yokïmi hadn’t been able to solve that problem and had been about to accept the will of Lady Luck when Avalessa had provided the answer in the form of Vespa.

At first, Yokïmi had been worried about seeing the ocelot volunteered. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and she wasn’t sure the animal understood the danger. Avalessa had smiled and ensured her that she wouldn’t send her friend into that sort of peril unless positive the feline knew what she was getting into. Vespa had been prowling back and forth, eager to be on her hunt. Yokïmi had given in, trusting in Avalessa’s AnimalMystic abilities and the relationship she had developed with her little friends.

RRRRHHHHOOAaarrrruuuuuuurrRRRGGHHH!

Closer. Definitely closer. There was no longer any debate. She could tell it was coming from the forest beyond the gate. Whatever Vespa was doing, it sounded not only like the fleet little ocelot was pissing the monster off, but also leading it right for their chokepoint.

The cat flashed into view. But as it did, a spear of rock burst out of the ground and battered the ocelot off her course. Yokïmi was too far away to see the damage tag the impact caused, but she swore she heard a sickening crack of a breaking limb.

Akuje does have some sort of magic, Yokïmi realized. It was the only way to explain the sudden change in the landscape. The ground beneath their feet was rumbling with the monster’s heavy footsteps. It would be on the crippled ocelot in seconds.

“Let Vespa fade!” Yokïmi screamed, unsure if Avalessa could see the danger from her hiding spot. It was the Mystic’s turn to trust her, and thankfully she did. The ocelot suddenly became white fog and dispersed, undoubtedly flowing back into her tattoo form.

It wasn’t a moment too soon. Akuje thundered into view, sending one massive fist plowing through the space the cat had occupied and into the rocky protrusion his magic had summoned from the ground. The stone exploded under the force, raining down onto the surrounding underbrush while bouncing off the monster’s hide.

It was her brother. Yokïmi could see it, even in the twisted features of this fae-creature’s face. And yet, she had no idea how much of him could be left inside the terrible thing he had become.

Having lost his target, Akuje reared up to his full nine-foot height and craned his demonic head through a searching pattern. He was nearly fully encapsulated in an outer carapace, with gaps forming only at his joints. That hard shell was dusky brown, and looked impenetrably thick. His hands were far too large for his body, and from the way they had impacted upon the rock, the power contained within would rival a titan’s giant maul. Horns jutted out from between the pieces of shell, ready to tear apart anything that got too close. Behind him, a spiked tail lashed the air as if seeking enemies that dared to venture into his blind spots for an attack.

Too far away. He’s not seeing me. This damned Curse and my low Aura scores. He’s not seeing me. Yokïmi knew she should call out and demand for her twin to notice her, but the words stuck in her throat. Her natural instincts were seizing her with good-sensical fear, since summoning this beast’s full attention was quite probably suicide. Frozen in place, Yokïmi couldn’t make herself yell or even wave for the monster’s attention. Do something! She screamed at herself inside, but she couldn’t make her body respond against the impact of the fear she was feeling.

A squirrel skittered across the rubble of the stone spire her brother had just shattered.

Yokïmi blinked. Not just a squirrel. That’s the same squirrel.

Her reaction was comically mirrored by her monstrous twin. Akuje’s seething breaths calmed as his fiery eyes locked onto the small animal. His head ticked along after the scampering rodent, oddly fascinated by it.

The squirrel then stopped halfway between the creature and gateway to the compound. It rose up on its hind legs, flirted its bushy tail, and gave the fae-monster a harsh chitter of reprimand, as if irritated that the raging beast had somehow disturbed his sleep. The squirrel then went into its bouncing run that took it through the gate, into compound, and darted out of sight.

Akuje’s gaze trailed the animal in, so struck by the sight of that small animal that actual tags appeared above him.

* Stunned *

* Entranced: Moderate *

And then the squirrel was gone. The tags above his head vanished… and his eyes refocused with Yokïmi in his view. His eyes flared with new fury as he recognized who he was looking at.

YYYOOOooooouuuuuuuu!

She wasn’t sure if he’d actually spoken that word or if it was merely her imagination. Is it also my imagination that I swear he’s even angrier because he’s seeing me right after that squirrel? Can he sense such a fragile connection? I only asked the little critter to look after Avalessa. It’s not like he belongs to me or anything!

None of that mattered. The pure, murderous rage in Akuje’s distorted features was exactly what they wanted. He lost all control, dropped to all four limbs on the ground and charged at her with the clear intent of goring her on his horns, trampling her under his pounding hands and feet, and crushing her into paste.

“So much for me living a long life, never to be seen by others,” Yokïmi whispered to herself. Guess I broke that pact when I came hunting him. Seeing him charging at her now broke through her fear. She was still happy that she didn’t have anything she needed to do. She was the lure. The others were the critical ones. All she needed to do was have the Willpower to stand her ground and not flee before her brother’s rampaging desire to kill her.

Such a small thing. Her mouth twisted into a smirk, then she yelled out, “Come on, brother! You tried to make me into nothing. But I came back. If you want to finish this, then you’ll have to do it yourself. If that’s what you need to do to find your revenge, then do it! Destroy me!”

Akuje was too wide for the gate. He smashed into the rock edges without even seeming to feel them, sending stone chips winging away in every direction. His momentum wasn’t slowed, making the ground shake under Yokïmi’s feet. She fought to keep her balance as if her life depended on it.

The corner of her mouth quirked up into a knowing smirk. Because it does.

Twenty paces.

That’s right. Keep coming. Don’t use any of that magic inside you. I’m your twin. One you hate. Come tear me apart with your bare hands. It’s what you want, isn’t it?

Fifteen.

Hold, she willed her companions. Hold until he sees nothing but me.

Ten.

Now!

Kharr came out of the same stables that the wolf-fae had used for their ambush. He burst from the shadows right as the mad beast crossed the mark they had set before the battle. Uncoiling with all the substantial force he could generate, the gnoll launched his aethervult-tipped spear with power that would make a trebuchet proud.

His hunting skills proved true. The weapon struck right below the monster’s shoulder and pierced into his rib cage. The dense carapace, which would have turned aside even magical blades, was shredded like old parchment. Akuje’s flesh was torn open with equal ease, and the spear didn’t stop until it was buried deep in the core of him.

* Critical Bane Wound *

(-2192)

* Bane Damage *

(-193)

* Bane Damage *

(-218)

* Bane Damage *

(-209)

Akuje went wild as the fae-bane metal began to poison him from the inside. His momentum carried him onward, his head driving into the dirt as his legs went flipping to the sky.

The sheer mass of his tumbling body was enough to annihilate Yokïmi if it struck. With that awareness locked in her brain, she was ready. Springing to the side, she rolled out of the monster’s thrashing path. She was almost too slow. One of Akuje’s heels pinwheeled wildly in the air and clipped her below her left shoulder blade.

[-51]

* Stunned *

She was thrown clear, and it was only her sharp reflexes and extensive martial art training that allowed her to pick a landing spot even as she twisted in the air, tuck in her shoulder, and roll cleanly out of the fall. The stones were rough along her skin, but she saved herself from any true damage.

The wind had been knocked out of her and she felt woozy from the hard impact. The blotchy damage tag that had painted her skin was over half of her entire PDP, which meant she had to be running low. Shakily, she pressed her knuckles together for a status check, concentrating on that element of her being.

The number 18 rose above her knuckles.

She took a shaky breath. It wasn’t enough for normal Low-Level magic. Only enough for one more use of her Signature Spell that cost her 15. And if she did, it would leave her less than a handful of PDP left to survive whatever followed.

Both Avalessa and Parrun unleashed their own attacks, trying to add on their damage to kill the monster even faster.

The elf sailed her chakram one after the other into Akuje’s flank. However, she didn’t have the power to make the slice directly through, nor could she bounce them off its carapaces if she wanted to do any real damage. She threw three of them in rapid succession, keeping the last as a melee weapon should desperation demand for her to close. The trio of adamantine blades cut into the beast with almost as much ease as the fae-bane spear. They all lodged deeply into his skin until only a small arc of the dark metal was visible.

(-169)  (-158)  (-161)

Parrun’s choice was to go back to his Fire Bolt spell. With his keen eye, he waited as Akuje bucked and swirled in his mad fury, then unleashed the magic right when he could see into the ugly wound created by the Glorious Metal spear. The Fire Bolt lashed the exposed flesh, and the magic spilled into the fae-creature’s inner body, trapped inside by the very carapace that would have previously repelled it.

{-72}

* Burning *

{-8}

* Burning *

{-8}

The combined attacks only whipped Akuje into a more violent rage. He swirled across the compound, lashing out with supernaturally powerful strikes. His body smashed through a shed like a tornado and left nothing while another random blow collapsed the wall of the servant quarters. The whole structure groaned. As he spun away, his thick tail blasted through another of its support walls. The building started to crumble sideways in an unstoppable shamble.

The violent tail strike also propelled a wave of heavy debris blitzing across the clearing. By pure chance, a cinderblock the size of a massive pumpkin was flung right at Parrun.

Too weakened to summon any sort of attacking spells, Sylnie was crouched near Parrun, tucked safely out of harm’s way. She read the danger and cried out a warning, then rammed into the mashashi’s shoulder, trying to get him out of the way.

She made it. But she only succeeding in pushing her predoran companion clear. The jagged rock slammed into the half-folk Cleric’s side. It weighed twice as much as she did, and sent her flying into the nearby outer wall. She impacted with a terrible smack.

[-140]  [-82]

* Bleeding *

(-3)

* Bleeding *

(-3)

Yokïmi had rarely seen bludgeoning injuries that actually showed internal bleeding, but it was clear that was what she was seeing. She knew Sylnie was a more powerful adventurer than she was, but that much punishment had to have soaked up most of her PDP. It couldn’t be that long before the last of them bled away if they didn’t get over to help her.

Parrun was peppered with smaller pebbles and dust. He shielded his face with his arm, then turned to thank Sylnie for saving him. His mouth gaped open as he took in her battered form, then the shock faded and he ran to her side screaming her name.

All trace of hesitation died in Yokïmi. Her brother had already killed so many. Now he might tear them apart in his death throes. Her eyes went hard and her mind went crystal-sharp. She raced through her Signature Spell faster than she ever had before.

She knew she had no chance of delivering a killing blow with her simple spell. She didn’t need that. The bane-weapon would put an end to him soon. She merely needed to stop him from destroying them all along the way.

“Avalessa! Take the left leg!” She had no idea if her lover heard her. She couldn’t wait to find out. Refocusing on her magic, she completed the final elements of her own spell. The pink-hued Razor Beam slashed into the back of her monstrous twin’s right leg. She aimed just above the carapace protecting the back of his calf, using the knowledge both Taliskhan and Katashi had imparted on her regarding anatomy to cut into the tendons and ligaments that should be there.

The pain roared into Yokïmi as she expended almost all of the PDP she had left. Her body screamed at her, and the fire that stormed through her wracked her with seizures that staggered her, nearly driving her to her knees.

Even as her magic finished its work, Avalessa proved she had indeed heard Yokïmi’s summons. Her last chakram came streaking from her hiding spot, slicing with that perfect adamantine edge into the same spot just below Akuje’s left knee. The limb was too thick for her to slice all the way off, but it sank in far enough to strike at the same vital linkages.

(-92)  (-188)

* Crippled: Both Legs – Severe *

Akuje staggered to the ground, too far gone in his pain to understand why his legs were no longer answering his commands. He clawed at the dirt and stones of the courtyard, then hammered fists into the ground.

* Bane Damage *

(-207)

* Bane Damage *

(-201)

* Bane Damage *

(-199)

The unrelenting torment from the spear lodged in his chest never stopped. The damage tags continued to roll off the top of his head, punishing him second after second after second.

* Bane Damage *

(-192)

* Bane Damage *

(-206)

* Bane Damage *

(-219)

The power of Akuje’s thrashing diminished. Soon, he was only reaching out one arm at a time. Then none at all as he tried to hold up his huge torso. The weight of his own body soon proved too much. His face planted into the dirt and didn’t rise again.

* Bane Damage *

(-211)

* Bane Damage *

(-209)

* Dead *

Multiple chimes echoed down from Yokïmi’s orb amidst the trees.

Relief stormed through her, immediately replaced by horror as she remembered Sylnie lying broken by the wall. Giving her fallen twin a wide berth, not trusting in the death tag that her brother couldn’t somehow strike out at her again, Yokïmi circled around and dashed to the Cleric’s side.

Avalessa also came running from her cover, arriving to hear the half-folk begin to gasp faster. The Bleeding markers didn’t only continue but escalated as whatever wounds were inside her tore open wider with each breath.

* Bleeding *

(-3)

* Bleeding *

(-4)

* Bleeding *

(-4)

“Sylnie! Hold on. We can… can find… help…” Avalessa started to make promises, but her voice drifted into silence as she realized how empty that sounded. They were leagues away from the nearest settlement. Even if Akuje’s death had sealed the supernatural fissure between this world and the fae realm and the faelapses in the region would end, the entire landscape was still filled with flora and fauna already twisted into dangerous new forms. Carrying the half-folk through that in time to get her help wasn’t possible. Not for them.

“Don’t… don’t…” Sylnie faltered, choking as pain clenched at her chest. Resetting herself, she struggled to say more. “The gods’ will. Had… had to be… always had to be…”

“What? Why?” the elf demanded.

“It didn’t have to be,” Parrun cried, his heart obviously twisting in grief. “That rock… it was headed… headed for me…”

Sylnie fixed her eyes on him. A peaceful smile settled on her lips. “Only o-one of us was leaving. I ch… chose… y-you...” Her last word slipped out with the last of her breath. A mournful tag wafted away from her and faded like her spirit leaving the world.

* Dead *

Aghast, Parrun searched out Avalessa, a mute question screaming from his expression.

Avalessa hung her head in pain. “It was what the vision showed us. Four walking away. We thought it was merely four that was necessary.”

The weight of that statement pushed Parrun back on his heels until he collapsed onto his behind. He fell silent as the knowledge hit him deeply, bringing him face to face with the consequences of his choice to come along for the Quest.

Yokïmi placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I wanted you to come. We couldn’t have known. Not even they did. Even Taliskhan… he didn’t know.”

“He suspected?” Fresh pain washed over his face, making it clear he hadn’t even considered it.

“But he didn’t know. And he would have come anyway. Parrun… this isn’t your fault. We were all risking our lives. She made her choice.” A shred of guilt flickered through Yokïmi, ashamed that she had ever doubted the Cleric’s willingness to help others. Would I have acted so fast if I was in her place? Silent gratitude poured out of her, blessing the half-folk woman’s soul for having saved her friend.

Parrun returned a somber nod, turning back to the fallen woman. He said nothing, merely reaching out to place a single, grieving hand on her.

Avalessa did the same, a few crystal tears streaming down her cheeks.

Unable to take it any longer, Yokïmi pushed off and walked away. She fought back the urge to let out a sob. She couldn’t crumble. Not out here. We’re not safe yet.

Kharr strode by her brusquely. “Why would you grieve?”

She shot him a shocked look, hardly believing even the crude gnoll would be so insensitive.

He didn’t seem to notice. He was heading for Akuje’s body. “She died in battle. A worthy way to fall.” He planted one boot against the fallen monster’s side. Taking hold of his spear, he tore it free with one massive pull.

Holding the weapon up into the air, his muzzle grew a deeply satisfied smile. “A fine strike, wasn’t it? When it is time for Aufflasiss to hunt me, I’ll kill him in the same way.” He let out one of his loud, ugly, braying laughs, braced the spear over one shoulder, and walked off to savor his part in the victory.

Yokïmi wasn’t sure what to say. She could understand his point of view, but her emotions wouldn’t let her discard her grief so easily. Sylnie had saved them all so many times. She’d pulled them out of their weakness and gave them a fighting chance. It didn’t seem right that she was never going to open her eyes again.

Her gaze sharpened as they fell on the shell that had once been Akuje. That’s where the blame really lies. Not with any of us. She drifted to his side. At first, she had the impulse to pay him respect. But then she took in his already-disintegrating body. Normally, fae-corrupted beings decomposed like any other living thing. But the magic that had created Akuje had been disrupted. He was the key to all this, and now he was dissolving. Soon, he would be nothing but a shapeless, smoking blob, and all his terrible works would be undone.

Except all the people you killed will still be dead. Clenching her teeth, she reached down and ripped one of Avalessa’s chakram from the body, tossing it down with the knowledge that she couldn’t chip its adamantine edge if it struck on a rock.

“I don’t know what fueled the anger in your heart, brother. I’ve no idea how your heart could be that empty. They were my family, too.” She gave another savage yank, tearing another chakram free. “You killed them. And all the people we protected. Maybe I should have loved you better. Told you more often. But what you did… it can’t be forgotten just because now you’re dead.”

Her hands seized the third ring weapon and tore it free. She added it with a small clank to the stack she was forming in the dirt. “I’m… I’m just glad you won’t be able to hurt anyone else. That you won’t stain our family’s honor any further.”

She grasped the last weapon and tugged it out. It was the one lodged in his leg, and came out with far less resistance. Struggling to hold back the storm of emotions inside, she stood tall and gazed down on him one last time. “May Narrum be…” She paused, deciding ‘merciful’ was not what she wanted for him. “May he be fair, knowing what you cost everyone in these lands.”

Stooping down, she collected the four chakram in one hand, then turned her back on her fallen twin for the last time. If there is an ounce of justice under the eyes of the gods, then we’ve sent him screaming into the hell Narrum keeps open for those like him.

Yokïmi walked deliberately away, trying to banish any concern or thoughts of her twin forever from her mind, leaving them in the dirt along with his smoking remains. She wasn’t going to celebrate having ended him. But… neither was she going to mourn.

Chapter 22

The beds of the Chatty Chipmunk in the town of Kyrotsu were every bit as comfortable as Yokïmi remembered. Granted, part of the reason for those fond memories was the sharing of the bed with Avalessa. Fortunately, she wasn’t forced to find out if that was the only reason, since the elf was there with her again.

The elf was stretched out languidly on the sheets, laying on her stomach with her arms curled around the pillow cushioning her head. She issued a long, seductive purr as Yokïmi’s hands massaged along her back.

Yokïmi’s knees were framing her lover’s thighs, leaving her free to admire her lover’s lean muscles as they descended her spine, then swelled into the pert, sexy curves of her ass. Unable to resist that temptation, her oiled hands played downward until they cupped her two, firm cheeks. She rubbed into them deeply, spreading them far enough to where she could see the tight flower of her anus and the first hints of her netherlips beyond.

“Whatcha doing back there, hmm?” Avalessa inquired lazily, adrift on a sea of pleasant sensation.

“Thinking about succumbing to temptation,” was Yokïmi’s teasing answer. She allowed the elf’s cheeks to slip out of her grip, enjoying how they bounced back to their strong shape.

“What happened to my massage?”

“I’m also thinking about getting creative with that.” Yokïmi moaned softly as she considered the elf’s oiled body anew. She’d been doing her best to memorize ever inch of the other woman for the better part of an hour. The Mystic’s back, legs, and behind were all shimmering from the slippery layer of oil Yokïmi had applied. It was far more than was strictly necessary, but there was something lovely about having her hands slide effortlessly over the elf’s silken skin.

So why not add more? With a sexy little giggle, a sound she’d never admit to making later, she took up the jug of oil that smelled of cherry blossoms. Tilting it far enough to pour out a decent portion of the contents, she let it spill over her own naked body. The liquid was clear, and thus wasn’t a risk of activating her Curse. It certainly wasn’t hiding her figure. All it was doing was making her seem as oiled and wet as her lover beneath her.

“What are you doing?” Avalessa demanded again as she felt a few drops spattering on her lower back.

“This,” Yokïmi answered, sliding her knees back and then lowering herself down until her slick breasts hugged against the back of the elf’s thighs, right beneath her butt cheeks. Keeping her movements slow and sensual, she drew herself upward, feeling her nipples hardening as she rubbed them along Avalessa’s oiled curves in a nuru-style massage.

She kept going, sucking one lip between her teeth and emitting her own groan of delight as she stretched her whole body out, becoming a blanket over the elf. She weaved back and forth, shifting between teasing her lover’s back with only the tips of her breasts to then crushing them softly into the other woman’s back, lowering her mouth, and kissing at the nape of the Mystic’s neck.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Avalessa moaned into the pillow.

“Oh? What am I doing?” Yokïmi shifted one of her legs inward, drawing it up between the elf’s thighs, easing them gently apart.

“You seem to think…” Avalessa whispered, every word soaked in pleasure. “… that if I find you irresistible and impossible to live without, I won’t find it necessary to return home to finish my Quest.”

Yokïmi propped herself up on her elbows, creating enough space so that the elf could roll her hips up if she was properly coaxed to do so. She then glided her own thigh against the Mystic’s moistened sex. The temptation worked. Avalessa drew her knees up, raising her core off the blankets and giving Yokïmi more room to softly grind her thigh back and forth. “Is it working?”

“Mmmmmmm-aybe,” Avalessa purred. “Though I shouldn’t tell you that.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” Yokïmi’s naughty intent only grew. She stole a hand between the fur blanket and the elf’s body until she found the palm-sized perfection that was her right breast. Closing her hand in a gentle squeeze, she increased the pressure of her leg against the other woman’s core, making sure that she was connecting with the sweet point where her pearl was hiding.

Emitting a long, low hiss that suggested she needed more, Avalessa managed to gasp out, “Because it might…give you too… too much hope. It wouldn’t be kind.”

“I’d never call you unkind,” Yokïmi said, speaking into the elf’s ear before pausing to lick a heated line along its extended, sensitive length. “I’ve felt your lovely favors often enough to know what lies in your heart for me.”

A tremor passed all along Avalessa’s body as the mingled sensations overwhelmed her. She came against her lover’s leg, painting her thigh with her passion as her toes curled and her fingers clawed into the pillow she’d been gripping.

Yokïmi rode her through that shivering ecstasy, delighting in the effect she could have. As the orgasm waned, her elven lover sank back against the blankets. Yokïmi went with her, allowing her breasts to once more settle warmly against the other woman’s back, her core snugged up against the firm curve of Avalessa’s ass.

She bent her lips once more to whisper into the elf’s ear. “Am I not equally kind?”

“You’re a wicked spirit I should never have let into my bed,” Avalessa replied, each word accented by purring laughter. She turned her head sideways, seeking her lover’s mouth.

Yokïmi surrendered to the silent request, pressing her lips willingly and heatedly against the elf. At some point, Avalessa rolled under her, and then they rolled together until it was Yokïmi’s back that was pressed to the bed. They carried on the lush kiss. Each of their lips wandered along the other’s neck, only to inevitably return to their original, lustful embrace.

Eventually, the passion ran its course, cooling just far enough that they could sink into each other’s arms in a lovely tangle of limbs. Avalessa found it easy, as the shorter of the two, to tuck her head into the valley between Yokïmi’s breasts.

Reaching up into the elf’s dark hair, Yokïmi played with the strands and watched the star-specks within dance in the room’s candlelight. Her eyes traveled down her lover’s exposed, naked back and along her svelte legs sculpted from decades of travel, training, and conflict. “Words don’t exist for how I’ll miss you.”

“The demands of our lives don’t always match the demands of our hearts,” Avalessa said, tracing her fingertips in gentle caresses along Yokïmi’s left arm. “You’ve healed your family’s honor. These lands can now pass into the hands of new lords. Your duty here is complete, and there are Quests you must start even as mine must be ended. Not only that, but I must see Sylnie’s body taken safely to the temple she called home.”

“Is it impossible that our paths might cross again? We are not helpless in this. We can be sure that we will find each other again, especially if –”

“– No, do not say it,” Avalessa spoke swiftly, trying to prevent her lover from committing herself.

“Why not? I’m not afraid of falling into love. Not if it’s with you. Even if we aren’t together!”

Avalessa sighed, her breath tingling along Yokïmi’s skin, causing the nipple the elf faced to tighten into a firm nub that ached for more substantial attention. The elf granted the wish, shifting her hand away from Yokïmi’s arm and over to her breast. She scratched her fingernails lightly up the lower swell, then in tingling patterns around the rippled flesh of her areole. “I’ll never forget what we’ve found here. But am I the love you want? How can you know, having seen so little of the world?”

The Mystic let out another long sigh. “Your journeys are only beginning. Your heart is so recently opened to what you truly want. You need to experience what the world has to offer. If I was to accept your love now, I would forever fear that I am but a shadow of what you might one day find.”

It hurt Yokïmi to hear it. She wanted to deny it immediately, but the words died on her tongue. She’s been alive for close to a century. She’s watched other humans burning bright, so eager to dive in. Can I really dismiss her warning? “And what if this is what I want?”

“Then trust that we shall find each other again. If it is in both our hearts to want that, then it will be.”

A different sort of ache filled Yokïmi’s heart. A longing that had started even though Avalessa had yet to part from her. Even with the elf still holding one of her breasts in the palm of her hand. “That could take years.”

“What do years matter for elves? And though there is much to your Curses for you to hate, the Gift of a longer life has also fallen upon you. Humans don’t have the wisdom to deal with longer years. You’ll need to embrace the manner of elves. Embrace the idea that time is a friend rather than a creature chasing you through the woods. Take the time to find your truths, so that when you embrace them, you can do so without regret.”

I wouldn’t regret loving you, Yokïmi swore to herself. But the words stayed in her mind, refusing to slip past her lips. Instead, all that escaped her was, “If that is what you wish.”

“It is what I wish for you.”

Yokïmi sniffed, fighting back the tears that threatened to slip from her eyes. “I’ve nothing to remember you by. I can’t even carry a token of you.”

“Is that so? Hmm, yes, that is a tragic thing.” Avalessa drew up from her lounging spot between the crystal breasts. She drew her knees in and took her own turn at straddling her lover’s hips. “A tragedy we can’t allow.”

“What can be done? I can’t bear anything with me,” Yokïmi reminded her.

“That’s not entirely true, is it?” Avalessa extended both hands and took hold of both her lover’s wrists. She pressed them down into the bed until a tag rose from over Yokïmi’s forehead.

* Pinned *

The elven Mystic let out a throaty purr. “Mmmm, I never tire of seeing that.” She extended one fingernail on each hand and tapped the crystal heron-bracelets on each wrist. “You have these, do you not?”

“They have magic to become like me.”

“And I’ve magic of my own.”

“You do?” Yokïmi asked with genuine surprise, having never seen her wield anything of the sort.

Avalessa leaned down to plant a heated kiss at the focal point where Yokïmi’s neck, collar, and the mounds of her breasts all met. Then her fingers caressed along her arms, releasing her lover from the sensual hold as she straightened her back. “Have you heard of the magic inherent to all elves?”

“Only rumors. Stories told by human Sages who probably don’t understand what they are guessing at.” Yokïmi smirked up at her, knowing that her lover would see through the attempt to stroke her elven ego. Her hands slid down from where they had been trapped, found Avalessa’s legs and stroked appreciatively along them. “Will you enlighten me, oh kind mistress?”

With a rueful shake of her head, Avalessa brought her hands to the still-aching peaks of both her lover’s breasts. Her fingers drew into pinching grasps potent enough to make Yokïmi gasp. “Shall I go on with my story?”

Letting out a breathless laugh, Yokïmi gave a quick nod. “Mm hmm.”

“And you’ll behave?” The elf kept the pressure on.

Whimpering a little, Yokïmi still got out a mischievous giggle. “I’m not promising anything.”

“You incorrigible, wicked thing.” A helpless laugh escaped the elf, releasing her lover from the erotic pinch-hold. “Now listen. Oberon is a wild god, but a kind one. Every elf, whether they follow a mage path or not, is born with the Gift to beseech a magical effect from Him three times in their lives.”

“Wish magic?” Yokïmi’s eyebrows shot up at the implications.

“After a fashion, though usually not so potent. He will only grant the request if it is made with our true hearts and for a purpose that will be a balm to our souls and to those we care about.” The elf’s smile shone forth with genuine warmth. “I’ve never had cause to call on his favor before. I think he’d answer my call tonight.”

“What…” Thick emotion choked Yokïmi’s first effort. She tried again. “What would you ask for?”

“Let me show you.” Avalessa stretched to the side, giving Yokïmi a view she wound intensely interesting. But her curiosity outweighed her lust and playfulness, stopping her from either caressing or tickling any of the elf’s exposed body.

Avalessa reached for the nightstand beside the bed and plucked the rose standing in the clay vase. The flower had been part of their earlier flirtation upon arriving in Kyrotsu, and it had made the journey with them to the bedroom. The memory of Avalessa running it up and down Yokïmi’s body was a poignant one. The delicious mix of tingles and heat spread once more in the core of her.

Returning to her upright, straddling posture, Avalessa read the desire showing so clearly on her lover’s face. “At least with you, I’ll never have to wonder if I’m appreciated.”

“Curse or no curse, I’d make sure you knew,” Yokïmi insisted, stroking her hands up the elf’s thighs until she could curl her fingers around the other woman’s buttocks, squeezing in a way that could only be interpreted as loving appreciation.

Issuing one of her lovely purrs, Avalessa swiveled her hips to press her butt into her lover’s grip, encouraging the touch. She brought the flower down and brushed it along Yokïmi’s cheek, then over her lips. It lingered long enough under her nose for Yokïmi to get a strong hint of its floral scent which mixed with the scent of Avalessa’s own essence that was beginning to stir along with her passion.

Before her eyes could completely glaze over, Avalessa took control of herself. With the rose suspended over Yokïmi’s head, she used her fingernails to snip the long steam, leaving only a few inches still attached to the blossom. Her eyes closed, and her mouth formed near-silent words.

After a few seconds, Yokïmi knew they were words that she couldn’t understand, and thus assumed they were elven. There was a lyrical flow to the language; the cadence and interconnected words were as much music as speech. “I wish I could understand you.”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Avalessa’s mouth. “Your mistress has heard you and shall grant your wish.”

Her eyes never opened, which meant Yokïmi’s eye roll was wasted on her. She was seriously tempted now to tickle her lover and distract her from what she was doing in naughty revenge, but her curiosity was still far too strong.

Then her breath caught as the rose began to change. The color on it flecked away, then vanished into dust on the air. What was left was a crystal replica of the flower.

What Yokïmi assumed was the Mystic’s whispered plea to Oberon for his favor ended, and Avalessa’s eyes fluttered open. She looked quite pleased with the result that was clutched in her hand. She presented the flower more deliberately for Yokïmi to see.

“What do you think?”

Yokïmi honestly had no words. Her breath caught as she canted her head left and right to see different angles. “It looks so real. Beyond any glass-blowing art I’ve ever seen.” She took a gentle sniff and caught the faint trace of a rose’s scent on the air.

Avalessa smiled. “Not quite as strong as a true flower. Wouldn’t want you getting found by any monster with a decent nose. But if this is in your hair and you stand still, you should be able to scent it. Have it remind you of me.” She leaned forward and slid the stem into the right side of Yokïmi’s hair. “There are two spells upon it. One will allow you to understand the Elvish tongue. The other will have it cling to your hair flawlessly until you will it to stop. But only for the first time. If you take it out, the magic will be expended. You’d have to clip it back in with more mundane means.”

She finished nesting it, then planted her hands on the bed on either side of her lover. “Token enough for your memory?”

“It’s… wonderful. I’ll treasure it forever, no matter what happens.” The emotions that were welling up inside her were too strong. Yokïmi fell silent, having nothing else to say. I’m going to be with her again. How can feelings like this change? No matter how long.

“Oberon was generous. He knows I’ll never forget you.” Avalessa locked her sparkling eyes with Yokïmi’s own. “That much is certain.”

She still couldn’t find her voice. But she didn’t need it. Not with her lover leaning over her like that. Not with her heated core pressed into Yokïmi’s skin and her beautiful breasts hanging so temptingly near to Yokïmi’s mouth.

Tightening her own core muscles and curling her back, she raised off the bed and licked her tongue over the elf’s left breast, swirling it around her hardening tip before switching to give equally loving treatment to the other. She feasted upon her lover while Avalessa cooed her approval and clutched at Yokïmi’s hair to hold her close to her chest.

Then Yokïmi kissed her way up her lover’s neck, on a quest for her mouth. They fell into each other’s embrace, letting the heat roar stronger between them, until at last Avalessa pushed Yokïmi down to the bed. Her mouth ventured downward, heading for far more intimate places where she could give Yokïmi yet another gift and another reason to remember her by.

*          *          *

When Yokïmi awoke, her elven princess was gone from their bed. It was no surprise. She didn’t fear that Avalessa had left the town without saying a final goodbye. But the night before had been their shared moment for fulfilling all their desires and now pulling back from their intimacy. Yokïmi wasn’t sure that would make the final parting any easier.

At least she had the privacy to allow the hurt she felt to flow. She deliberately dove into the impending loss. The idea that Avalessa wouldn’t be close enough for her to touch while they slept. That her smile wouldn’t be there to enjoy. Her support wouldn’t be there to draw upon. And who am I kidding, I’m going to miss the sex so much.

She dwelled in the self-pity, giving herself that time like a gift. I’ve got a right to be sad. She’s going away and I’m going to hate it. Doesn’t matter if it makes all the sense in the world. Why can’t she stay? Why…

The second question died in her mind. ‘Why can’t I go?’ was what she hadn’t dared ask herself. The answer was obvious. She had to bring the Sanctuary word of Taliskhan’s death. When she did, what would they demand of her? Then there were her own Quests to regain her life. Could she do them while linked arm-and-arm with an elven princess who might have far different, maybe even greater demands placed on her? When would I stop supporting her and start recovering my own life?

They were all selfish questions, in a way. But that was what Avalessa had meant. She was freeing Yokïmi to continue awakening to herself. It was Yokïmi that was trying to force their divergent paths into melding when it didn’t make sense.

That was what snapped her out of the spiral she was in. The grief wasn’t gone. Nor her immediate desire to love the elven woman. But it’s time to get on with this. To consider my next steps. By the end, if the love is still there, then I’ll hunt her down, tell her that I told her so, and ravish her in bed for a couple centuries to show her that we never should have parted.

With a soft, sad laugh, she threw a couple of the bed’s pillows against the wall and propped her back against them. After Akuje’s death, the group had spent a nerve-wracking, barely restful night in the tainted shrine, trying to recover enough strength between them to ensure that they could make it out of the faelapse territory alive. They’d also taken turns marring the runes of the ritual, despoiling it enough to make it harder for anyone to use it to replicate her twin brother’s fell magic. Then had followed the tense journey to Kyrotsu. The idea of burying herself in her orb hadn’t been a practical one when she could be watching for danger or sleeping.

But safe in the inn, well-satisfied from Avalessa’s embrace, and in general well-rested, it was finally time to see what the chimes from her orb had meant. She called it down now and went to the list of recent changes.

* Quest Log: Reckoning with the Wish-Mad Brother – Complete *

* New Skill Unlocked – ranks in Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic) now available *

* Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic) – Skill now level 1 *

* Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic) – Skill now level 2 *

* Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic) – Skill now level 3 *

* Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic) – Skill now level 4 *

* Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic) – Skill now level 5 *

* Chi Healing – Talent now level 2 *

* Burn PDP for Magical Energy – Technique now level 3 *

* Channel Energy from Components – Talent now level 4 *

* Signature Physical Spell – Technique now level 2 *

* Wilderness Survival (Woodland) – Skill now level 3 *

* Empty-Hand Combat (Grapples) – Skill now level 4 *

* Empty-Hand Combat (Strikes) – Skill now level 7 *

* Empty-Hand Combat (Throws) – Skill now level 6 *

* New Impactful Moment: Death of Zaskran Bellatir Mentor *

* New Impactful Moment: Professed Love to the Star Elven Princess *

* New Gift: Shroud of Love *

The chain of new information was enough to stagger her. She’d heard tales of the sort of rewards that Quests could bring. She hadn’t considered the fine things that Syzara, Goddess of Quests might offer her. Stopping her brother from causing further harm had seemed like enough of a gift.

But it seemed like the Goddess had other ideas. Beyond the Experience Points she had gained and the augmentation to so many of her Talents and Techniques, she had also seen fit to grant her access to a new Skill which she had never known before. More startling, she hadn’t only gained access to that Skill, but the Goddess had maximized the rank level. Her Polyhistor Level path was at 2, and she had no doubt the Education Skill had naturally been connected to that. Any Skill could be 3 ranks higher than the connected Level path, which allowed the Goddess to flood her all the way to Level 5 without breaking the rules of their world.

If she hadn’t known the knowledge was there, she would never have thought to access it. Her brow creased as she probed at her memory. It was a weird sensation, to go seeking for information in one’s own mind that she had never actively learned… and for it to be there! It was like being guided through meditation or hypnosis into remembering a long-forgotten memory. Except this memory was information that could only be learned from hundreds of hours of study.

The surface level of the knowledge was a basic understanding of the four Advanced Mage Paths that could utilize damage points in place of material components. She already knew about ChiKilns, but she now had names for the rest: MindBenders for calling on MDPs, PowerEmpaths to use EDPs, and SoulCrafters to burn SDPs.

Also useful was a new, rudimentary understanding of some of the powers that each path might grant you. It was not an exhaustive list, but she now had a record of what previous masters had demonstrated possessing. She already knew about the Signature Spells for each, but there were a few others that sounded like they might be useful. She could use Taliskhan’s concentration tactic to guide herself into getting those powers. Then again, without him to help guide my meditation, I doubt I’ll be as effective as with my first attempt, but at least I have some chance.

But by far the most important knowledge that came to her were the names and locations of living masters of each discipline, as well as legends of past masters and the myths surrounding where she might find the hidden repositories of their wisdom. Not all would be true, but they gave her Quest goals she could seek out. Considering the path she had set herself on, that information was beyond price. Sifting through it all was going to take hours of self-questioning as she laid out her future plans.

With a renewed excitement for how she might grow her magical powers, she began to filter through the other increases that were listed there. The first was the Talent that had given her the initial access to magic. It had been bumped to Level 4.

Talent: Channel Energy from Components: Level 4

-  This is the fundamental process that enables magic to work without harming a practitioner. The energy for supernatural effects must come from some source. If material components are not linked to the spell, the spell will fail and could do damage to the practitioner as it does.

-  Channeling limits are linked to individual Resilience scores: Physical Spells to Tolerance, Emotive Spells to Stability, Mental Spells to Willpower, Soul Spells to Ego.

-  Current channeling limits:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap Resilience 2 points.

• Low difficulty spells sap Resilience 9 points.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap Resilience 25 points.

• High difficulty spells sap Resilience 60 points.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap Resilience 120 points.

• Superior difficulty spells sap Resilience 350 points.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap Resilience 800 points.

• Epic difficulty spells sap Resilience 3500 points.

• Divine difficulty spells sap Resilience 8000 points.

-  Current Resilience refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 7 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 14 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 20 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 45 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 70 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 90 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Talent reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

She absorbed the information with real satisfaction. She could summon four Low-Level physical spells with her current Tolerance, and the cost for Moderate-Level spells had fallen to a reasonable amount that wouldn’t wipe her out in one usage. She would have to prioritize learning a few before starting on her next Quest.

She switched to her Technique for Burning PDP, the other limitation on her spell casting.

Technique: Burn PDP for Magical Energy: Level 3

-  This is the fundamental process that enables a practitioner to burn Physical Damage Points instead of material components to produce magical energy. Unlike the physical pain endured during a failed spell, this process can be controlled, improved, and streamlined.

-  PDP can only be used to power spells in the physical domain. Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based magic utilize other Techniques that must be mastered separately.

-  Trivial spells are commonly powered by ambient material components. However, they can draw upon PDP if the ChiKiln requires, such as in a sterile environment.

-  Current channeling costs:

• Trivial difficulty spells sap 1 PDP.

• Low difficulty spells sap 15 PDP.

• Moderate difficulty spells sap 30 PDP.

• High difficulty spells sap 80 PDP.

• Evolved difficulty spells sap 220 PDP.

• Superior difficulty spells sap 500 PDP.

• Ascendant difficulty spells sap 1000 PDP.

• Epic difficulty spells sap 5000 PDP.

• Divine difficulty spells sap 10000 PDP.

-  Current magically-burned PDP refresh rates:

• Secure, unconscious rest: 1 point per 10 minutes

• Uncomfortable, unconscious rest: 1 point per 20 minutes

• Stressful, unconscious rest: 1 point per 35 minutes

• Secure, conscious respite: 1 point per 60 minutes

• Uncomfortable, conscious respite: 1 point per 100 minutes

• Stressful, conscious respite: 1 point per 120 minutes

-  Higher levels of this Technique reduce cost for channeling as well as improve refresh rates.

Those numbers were also good news for her. The recovery rate was still lower, which meant she couldn’t afford to expend herself in flagrant disregard for her safety. But the limitation would remain her Tolerance scores. If she was at full health, she had enough PDP to exhaust her Resilience points without killing herself.

And what if I’m already injured? She quickly opened the Chi Healing Talent.

Talent: Chi Healing: Level 2

-  As a prerequisite to obtaining this Talent, the Bellatir must have awakened the Technique for Burning PDP for Magical Energy. This Talent uses the same power of the inner Chi to increase natural healing rates.

-  Physical damage endured by the practitioner will now recover at a rate linked to the recovery rate indicated by one’s Burning PDP for Magical Energy Technique. The recovery rates are governed by type:

• [Bludgeoning] Damage recovers at 65% listed rate.

• (Cutting/Clean Edge) Damage recovers at 55% listed rate.

• {Aggravated} Damage recovers at 35% listed rate.

-  The healing this Talent provides happens concurrently to recovery rates from other Talents and Techniques.

-  This Talent is a prerequisite for other Techniques that can allow the individual to grant others healing energy.

-  Only Physical Damage Points (PDP) can be healed with this process. Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based damage (MDP, EDP, SDP) must be healed utilizing other Techniques mastered separately.

-  Higher levels of this Technique improve the percentages for recovery. Above level 10, recovery for mundane PDP injuries will exceed those lost due to Burning for Magical Energy.

The increases weren’t incredible, but she wasn’t going to complain. She had been lucky to find herself in the company of a Cleric like Sylnie, who was willing to look past their differences and petition her god to aid everyone supporting the cause. She couldn’t believe that she’d be so fortunate on all her coming Quests.

She also noted that her Signature Spell Technique had gone up. She gave it a quick scan.

Technique: Signature Physical Spell: Level 2

-  The ChiKiln may select a single Spell from their known inventory which becomes their Signature Spell. The selection can only be changed upon gaining a new level in this Technique.

-  This spell can be cast with reduced cost, both in Tolerance points and (if material components are not used) in the PDP required to Burn sufficient energy.

-  The maximum level for the Signature spell is currently Low.

-  Casting the Signature Spell requires 66% of normal costs.

-  This Technique can only create a Signature Spell from the physical domain. Signature Spells for the Mental, Emotive, and Soul-based domains are possible utilizing other Techniques that must be mastered separately.

-  Higher levels of this Technique increase the maximum level of the spell that may be chosen as well as reducing the % cost.

The spell level limit hadn’t changed, though she didn’t know any Moderate spells even if it had. Seeing the cost come down to two-thirds meant she might be able to cast this spell in a tight space.

Despite all that, she saw no reason to change it away from Razor Beam. Both Fog and Darkness might be useful and could even save her life. But the cutting ray was still the spell that Katashi had personally selected for her and had just saved her life several times. Perhaps by the next time she bumped the level on this Technique, she might have more meaningful options.

Following that, she moved into the two far more personal additions to her inner self. The first Impactful Moment brought a small lump to her throat. She opened the details with the somberness of standing over Taliskhan’s grave.

Impactful Moment: Death of Zaskran Bellatir Mentor

-  +4 Stability Resilience, +2 Ego Resilience, Permanent -10 Emotional Damage Points, Permanent -5 Soul Damage Points

Trying to approach the details with numb detachment, she found it interesting how there were benefits as well as harm done to her. It made sense. If she survived this pain, it would help her survive other losses. She hoped she would never have to put that to the test. She also knew that was a juvenile hope that would never come true.

She found it frustrating that the second Impactful Moment only spoke of the profession of her love. It didn’t mention if it was returned or unrequited, leaving Avalessa’s inner feelings painfully vague. She supposed the gods didn’t want to give away the secrets of others. Avalessa had been vague, hinting at what she might feel without ever saying it.

Leaving that aside, she opened the details.

Impactful Moment: Profession of Love to the Star-Elven Princess:

-  An important moment in any person’s life is the first stirrings of passionate, romantic Love.

-  New Gift bestowed: Shroud of Love at Level 1

-  Aura (Persistence) +2

Eagerly, she flipped right over to the details of the listed gift.

Gift: Shroud of Love:

-  The lingering memory of a professed Love for another has drawn this boon from Aiune, the God of Love and Family.

-  When in danger, a Shroud of Divine energy can be summoned at will to negate any single attack that would cause any form of damage. (Physical, Emotional, Mental, or Soul)

-  After being expended, the Shroud cannot be used again until all expendable points have been refreshed through rest. This includes Resiliencies (Tolerance, Willpower, Stability, and Ego) and all damage types which may have been drained.

A warm glow filled her, thinking of the power as if the Aura of Avalessa would suddenly appear on command to fend off a threat to her life. If the elven Mystic couldn’t be there on her upcoming Quests, this felt a little like having her there as an angel on her shoulder, guarding her from harm.

She scrolled her status screen down, hoping for one last weapon she might use in the coming trials. She hadn’t had a chance to use many of her Bellatir abilities, and so didn’t expect to see many XP generated for it. But her spells had come into play at key moments in those fights, and she grinned to see a green [+] waiting for her next to her ChiKiln and Sorcerer Levels. The choice was not a hard one.

* ChiKiln level up! *

* Resilience (Tolerance) +1 *

* Physical Damage Points +10 *

* Mental Damage Points +1 *

* Emotional Damage Points +1 *

* Soul Damage Points +1 *

* New Talent Unlocked – Link Chi Sources now Level 1 *

Knowing what she was likely to find, she opened the new Talent anyway to make sure she understood the limits she was dealing with.

Talent: Link Chi Sources: Level 1

-  With this Talent, the practitioner can link with other soul-possessing beings to draw part of a spell’s PDP cost. This can only work with Physical spells. Linking for Mental, Emotive, or Soul based spells require separate Talents.

-  The current maximum number of linked beings: 1

-  The current percentage of the spell’s total PDP cost that can be siphoned: 20%

-  The percentage is spread among available linked beings (not the number multiplied by the percentage).

-  Links formed with willing participants automatically succeed.

-  Link can be formed to unwilling or unconscious participants with reduced chance of success. Opposition to the links are governed by both participant’s Tolerance Scores. If % is less than 0, the link cannot be formed.

• Unconscious: Own Tol. – 50% Other Tol.

• Conscious but unaware: Own Tol. – Other Tol.

• Conscious and unwilling: Own Tol. – 2x Other Tol.

-  Higher levels of this Talent increases the number of linked beings who can spread the percentage cost among them and the total percentage that can be channeled by the practitioner.

Yokïmi’s interest level rose. Although her Resiliencies remained the tightest constraint on her magic, she could easily imagine a time when she would be injured, unable to offer up the PDP cost of a spell despite having the Tolerance to control the energy channel. It obviously wasn’t going to be a solution at all times, but it might provide options. With a circle of willing others, I might never have to put my life in danger while throwing magic around.

She let out a relieved breath. There were so many holes in her abilities, and still so far to go. But she wasn’t feeling nearly so helpless in the face of the Quests ahead of her. Once she learned a few more spells to broaden her inventory of choices, and perhaps developed a few more Bellatir Techniques to be more effective in battle, then she’d be truly ready.

*          *          *

Yokïmi’s good mood nearly failed as soon as she exited the Chatty Chipmunk. Kharr was strolling up the road, whistling as he came. He already had his pack slung over his shoulders, once more filled to its huge capacity with supplies for a long trip. The rune-covered, aethervult spear was propped over his shoulders like a scarecrow’s crossbeam, his wrists hung over the ends like a fisherman with his pole. One would never know it was a holy artifact if you couldn’t recognize the Glorious Metal of the tip.

“There you are, little rabbit. Already said my piece to the others. Kept hoping the day would come you’d let me bend you over a table and fuhhk ya, but guess we’ve run out of time. You ever get to needing a proper rutting, you come find me on the plains of Tarataak. Even when I’m roaming, I visit the holy Oasis of Zuumlak to drink the waters and endure the visions they bring. See if the Minions of Aufflasiss have any Quests for me.” He devoured the sight of her one last, lingering time. “I’d wake from the deepest dream if you walked in.”

For a brief moment, anger flashed in her. But she found she couldn’t sustain it. Maybe he’s leered at me once too often and it’s lost its impact. She didn’t want to think that she couldn’t muster proper outrage.

A sly smile slipped onto her lips. Or maybe I should send him off with a gift of my own?

“Fair travels, Kharr. You struck the blow that needed to be struck. There’s nothing else to be said. We wouldn’t have come through this alive without you.” She gave a theatrical sigh. “My only hope is you’ll be free of needing to put on this cretin act one day.”

A scowl clouded his face. “What are you talking about?”

What made the moment all the better was how genuine she was able to make her sympathetic expression. “Ai ya, Kharr. You weren’t that drunk, were you? Remember the night before we went into the faelapse? And then the celebration when we got back? You drank the ale on your own the first night, but the townsfolk were pouring it down your throat last night.”

His confusion thickened.

“You stopped slobbering over me. Even when Avalessa and I were dancing and carrying on more than we probably should. All I could see was you having fun singing. I swore last night there was one crazy lass who was actually trying to catch your eye so you’d… how did you put it?... rut her in the barn? But the music had you.” She shrugged. “The real you emerging. The part that would rather sing than drool over a female. Ai ya, what would your pack mates say, hmm? But that’s the side I’d like to see more of. You really filled in the deep resonance in the songs.”

His long jaw hung a touch open, for once struck mute. He blinked heavily, then… gave a shake of his head and his bluster returned. “Bah! You’re as crazy as bat-shit in a cyclone, glass-girl. Didn’t crawl on top of that town girl ‘cause I smelled plague on her. And if I was keeping distant from you, I was just looking into that clear skin of yours and wondering if I’d see my cock sliding in or if it’d just seem like it was vanishing in midair.” He snorted out one of his braying laughs, then sauntered off. He tried to seem casual, but he deliberately didn’t look back, and his pace was far faster than his earlier stroll.

Yokïmi watched him go, her clever smile fading into one that carried both real sympathy and a note of pity. The pack mentality of the hyinakin culture was harsh. Boisterous. Violently protective of its own. But she didn’t doubt there was an equally powerful need for its alpha males to display constant bravado. To be the pinnacle of what gnolls were expected to be.

A touch of compassion filled her. He hadn’t chosen that way of life. He’d been born into it. There was more to him. She’d watched him throw himself into battle. He’d remained to fulfill his promise, demonstrating some measure of honor. There was a hero in him, locked in an eternal struggle with a lech. The latter would stop them from ever being friends. But… the former had her wishing that on the day his god’s avatar came hunting him, he’d make the kill and make it to the hyinakin paradise.

She turned away and headed into the central square. She found Yuina there with a half-dozen Kyrotsu townsfolk loading up the saddlebags on a sturdy pack horse. They had hooked up a wheeled sled to a larger draft horse, on which they had laid the swaddled body of Sylnie. Parrun’s mule was also there, laden down with enough supplies to get nearly anywhere in Hu’na’la without needing to visit another village.

Hichei was chatting with both Avalessa and Parrun. Seeing Yokïmi approach, he dipped into a respectful bow and went to join the others.

Avalessa turned to her with a warm yet careful smile, the look of a woman who had already found it hard to leave her lover’s side once and wasn’t eager to face that challenge again.

Swallowing her own desire to flow into the elf woman’s arms, Yokïmi summoned the courage for another hard conversation, along with a kind smile as she looked to Parrun. “You know I’m heading for the Sanctuary. Taliskhan was consumed in his pyre, so I don’t have remains to bring them. But I still need to bring word.” She paused, then hurried on, “You shouldn’t come.”

Rather than argue, Parrun returned a grim nod. “I’m glad you said it first. I was deciding on how to say I shouldn’t go. I… I can’t live on vague wishes and the dreams of others.” He huffed in self-mocking humor. “I knew those snake bastards weren’t going to teach me Ekanshin. Don’t mistake me. I still think something about learning the fighting arts sounds right for me. But my future wasn’t in that valley. That’s your path.”

“What if I had an idea that better suited you?” Avalessa ventured to say.

“I’m listening.”

“For most predoran, the hard path of the Taudoka is far more appealing than the soft power of the Bellatir. I know of one of your cousin-kin who is a master of a Taudoka combat style. He’s a sabrilong, so he may find you unworthy merely for your mashashi size. But it may be worth your time to try.”

Eagerness lit Parrun’s face. “Have you the time to show me the way?”

“Until my Quest is finished, the High Elf gates are closed to me. I’ve already committed to taking Sylnie to her temple. It’s also my intent to visit Grayshoal and bring word of her death to her cousin there.”

“Sylnie spoke of her one night by the fire,” Yokïmi said. “Called her something of a black sheep.”

“Indeed. But she’s the only connection I have to her true family. It will have to do.”

“I didn’t hear her mention the cousin’s name.”

Avalessa gave a soft shrug. “Neither did she speak of it in our months of travelling together. She only referred to her by her nickname. The Gorgon. I hope that will be enough. There are usually quite a few half-folk in human cities the size of Grayshoal, but I’ll find her.” She turned back to Parrun. “One more side Quest along the way will not bother me.”

“Then I accept,” the mashashi said. “I’ll check the maps to get us to the nearest coastal port.” He was about to scamper off when he skidded to a halt. Embarrassment flushed his face. He came back and hugged Yokïmi. “Thanks.”

“I should be saying that to you,” she replied, tucking her head down against the top of his. “Through all of this… being your friend has been… effortless. Exactly what I needed so many times.”

He squeezed her hips one last time. “Don’t take any bullshit from anyone. Not ever.” Then he was off again, heading for his mule.

Working hard to keep her tears under control, Yokïmi looked to Avalessa. She reached up to touch the crystal rose in her hair. “I wish I had anything at all I could offer of mine. But everything that once meant anything to me was crushed under that castle.”

Before the elf could answer, they were interrupted by a chittering from a branch of the pear tree planted at the town center. The two women looked over to see a squirrel preening, washing its little paws over its head as it peered toward them intently.

“Is… is that the same one?” Yokïmi asked.

“I dare say it is.” Avalessa drifted closer, and gave off the sense that she was reaching out with the supernatural abilities of her AnimalMystic path. “Says he wanted to make sure I was really safe. That’s what you wanted from him.” She grinned. “I’ve seen experienced Mystics unable to conjure this sort of loyalty from their little friends. You must have struck quite a chord with him.”

Yokïmi gave a helpless shrug. “I can’t say how. But he must be sensing how much I care for you.”

Avalessa grew a tender smile. “Well then, maybe he can be the part of you I’ll take. How about it, little one? Willing to come with me?”

The squirrel chittered happily, then did the small leap to her forearm and ran up to her shoulder where he perched as if he had always meant to be there. As he went, his fur changed, losing its brown coloring and becoming a snowy white, leaving only a few black specks along his back and tail.

“Huh,” the elven Mystic said.

“What is it?”

“He’s in my magical circle now. It is a little odd, as he’s the first male animal I’ve bonded with. His perspective is a little different. But there’s no doubting he has a kinship to you. And his little heart is so gentle and sweet.” Avalessa bopped a fingertip on the squirrel’s nose, which set the animal to chittering again and rubbing his paws at his face. She laughed. “Oh, he’s adorable.” Her eyes slid back to Yokïmi. “A fine reminder of you.”

If Yokïmi had any color to her at all, she would have blushed. “Where will his tattoo go?”

“Eventually I’ll know what feels right. For now, he can ride up here.”

The squirrel flirted his tail and dug his claws into one of her leather pack straps to secure his perch.

Avalessa closed the distance between them. “I know you’ll find what you’re looking for.” She brushed a last, caressing stroke down Yokïmi’s cheek. “When I see you next, I wonder if I’ll even recognize you.”

“You will,” Yokïmi got out past the thick emotion welling in her throat. “Because even if banish this Curse, what I feel for you is one emotion I’m never going to be able to hide.”

Avalessa’s smile rivaled the suns overhead. She leaned in and placed a final, soft kiss on Yokïmi’s lips. It lingered perhaps too long to be safe for either of them. Then the tingling warmth was gone. The elf closed her eyes, unable to survive another meeting of them. She turned away and walked for the horses.

Yokïmi said nothing, merely watching her go. She waved once to Parrun, a bubbling laugh escaping her as the predoran showed a refreshed eagerness, all care and concern having melted off him like it always did. Time to take a lesson from him. Be serious when needed. Live in the moment. And now… look on to the future without regret.

Inspired by that, she didn’t wait until they were out of sight. She had no animal to lead. No items to take with her. For the second time, she was leaving the Kikuchi lands naked and without anything to her name except for the two gifts she’d been blessed with: Haruto’s bracelets and anklets, and Avalessa’s rose. But this time, she didn’t feel like prey running scared before the predators of the world. She knew where she was going, at least for now. And her new strength made her a different woman than she had been then.

Without waiting to bid farewell to the Kyrotsu leaders, she simply turned and walked off into the woods. There were tasks to be done, and it was time she got about doing them.

Yokïmi’s Statistics (End of Story)

Name:  Yokïmi Kikuchi

Identity:  Crystalline Human / Female / Adult

Rating:  100

Faith and Devotion:

42 – Narrum, God of Humanoids

32 – Blind Fate / Chance

26 – Goddess of Fortune / Misfortune

Alignment:

+ 21 – Purity / Corruption

+ 59 – Empathic / Psychotic

+ 15 – Angelic / Infernal

– 07 – Orthodox / Deviant

Luck:

-3… -12… +9… +1… +7… -9… +2… -15…

Levels: (19 of 100 Used)

Harpist:   5

Bellatir:   4   (Ekanshin Style)

ChiKiln:   3

Virtuoso:   3

Polyhistor:   2

Sorcerer:   2

Abilities:

Power

Precision

Persistence

Physical

13

21

18

Mental

22

25

19

Aura

4

4

6

Intuition

16

16

14

Resilience:

Tolerance:  40

Willpower:   36

Stability:   28

Ego:  40

Damage Points:

Physical:   107

Mental:   85

Emotional:   78

Soul:   60

Inherent Traits:

Ambidexterity (Hands & Feet):   3

Natural Weapon (Arms/Fists/Elbows):   3

Natural Weapon (Legs/Feet/Knee):   3

Languages:

Hu’na’laan (Fluent)

Goldaanan (Minor Accent)

Elven (Fluent / Granted by Magic Item)

Talents:

Channel Magical Energy from Components:   4

Chi Healing:   2

Danger Sense:   1

Enhanced Physical Flexibility:   4

Flawless Color Match:   3

Harp Finger Dancing:   5

Link Chi Sources:   1

Read the Crowd:   2

Spontaneous Musical Improvisation:   2

Techniques:

Bellatir Adapted Spell (Presence Haze – Difficulty: Low):   1

Break Grapple Hold:   4

Burn PDP for Magical Energy:   3

Harp Shadow Playing:   5

Knockout Strike:   2

Pressure Point Strike (Choking Throat Strike):   2

Pressure Point Strike (Numbing):   2

Signature Physical Spell (Razor Beam - Minor):   2

Spells:

Body Empowered

Conjure Fog – Light (Difficulty: Low)

Elemental Resistance – Lesser (Difficulty: Low)

Extinguish Flame – Small (Difficulty: Trivial)

Fire Spark – Small (Difficulty: Trivial)

Grow Hair – Self (Difficulty: Low)

Grow Shadows – Near (Difficulty: Low)

Razor Beam – Minor (Difficulty: Low)

Remove Hair – Willing (Difficulty: Trivial)

Sculpt Hair – Willing (Difficulty: Trivial)

Mind Empowered

Erect Mental Shield – Minor (Difficulty: Trivial)

Emotion Empowered

Nil

Soul Empowered

Sense Presence of Souls - Near (Difficulty: Trivial)

Skills:

Animal Lore (Aquatic):   2

Animal Lore (Avian):   2

Animal Lore (Terrestrial):   2

Artistry (Calligraphy):   8

Artistry (Painting):   9

Artistry (Poetry):   6

Artistry (Sculpting):   8

Artistry (Sketching):   9

Brew (Mundane Tincture/Essence):   4

Climbing:   2

Cooking (Kitchen):   3

Cooking (Open Flame):   1

Education (Anatomy):   4

Education (Magic Runes):   3

Education (Masters of Non-Material Magic):   8

Education (Weather):   1

Empty-Hand Combat (Grapple):   4

Empty-Hand Combat (Strikes):   7

Empty-Hand Combat (Throws):   6

Heraldry (Goldaan):   7

Heraldry (Hu’na’la):   9

History (Goldaan):   7

History (Hu’na’la):   9

History (Magic Development):   2

Knife (Melee):   2

Knife (Thrown):   2

Meditation:   3

Monster Lore (Aquatic):   2

Monster Lore (Avian):   2

Monster Lore (Terrestrial):   2

Music (Flute):   4

Music (Harp):   15

Music (Lute):   3

Music (Piano):   9

Oar Use (Small):   2

Spear (Melee):   2

Spear (Thrown):   2

Stealth:   6

Swimming:   3

Weaving (Dressmaking):   3

Weaving (Embroidery):   3

Weaving (Needlepoint):   3

Weaving (Quilting):   4

Wilderness Survival (Highlands / Mountains):   2

Wilderness Survival (Urban):   2

Wilderness Survival (Woodland):   3

Gifts:

Poison Immunity (Level 3)

Disease Immunity (Level 5)

Prolonged Life (Level 3)

Augmented Hunger Resistance (Level 3)

Augmented Thirst Resistance (Level 1)

Shroud of Love (Level 1)

Quirks:

Embedded Phantom Body Sheath (Diamond Focal Point)

Doom of the Sanctuary Guardian (Level: Epic)

Curses:

Physical Definition Allergy (Level: Ascendant)

Emotional Transparency (Level: Superior)

Mental Shield Weakness (Level: Evolved)

Quest Log:

Reckoning with the Wish-Mad Brother (Status: Complete)

Impactful Moments:

Death of First Bellatir Mentor

Death of Father and Mother

Forced Transmutation to Glass Form by Mad Sibling

Destruction of Family Home

Spontaneous Brush with Magic

Night with the Golden Statue-Artist

Conjured Magic from the Body’s Furnace

Inspiration of the Villagefolk

Death of Zaskran Bellatir Mentor

Profession of Love to the Star-Elven Princess

Possessions of Note:

Items carried with her:

Clear-Crystal Rose (Quality: Superior, pinned in hair, gifted by Avalessa the AnimalMystic, properties: ever blooming, ever scented, grants ability to speak elvish, will supernaturally cling to hair until removed by owner for first time)

Clear-Crystal Heron Accents (2 Bracelets/2 Anklets) (Quality: Superior, marked with stylized heron symbol, gifted by Ekanshin Master Taliskhan, previously owned by Haruto Kai, properties: appearance adapts to owner, otherwise unknown)

Items in Farrum’s care:

Coins

Pennies

Chips

Coins

Marks

Wood

10

Lead

10

Brass

10

10

Copper

10

10

Silver

20

9

Gold

100

10

2 Sapphires – small (Quality: Good)

2 Opals – small (Quality: Good)

2 Amethysts – small (Quality: Good)