《Orphan at the Edge of the World》


 1 OEW

    On a jagged peak in a twisted and desolate plane of existence, a ragged old man dressed in dusty rags raised his head. In some far off realm, the book he had penned and bound in human skin long ago called to him. Again, it summoned the man to aid it in revenge against the alien forces they both were once enthralled to.


    Answering the call, the man began traversing the boundaries of existence, drawing near his dear old friend. "I hear you already, Nomi. Revenge, my wrinkled a**. It stopped being about that centuries ago. You''ve grown a taste for the toys they use to play with mortals as I''ve grown a taste for the chaotic flavor of their formless flesh."


    Disdaining to argue with the man, the wailing faced book sent a set of images describing the plot it had used and its current situation. Of the many bates the book had laid, the one that hooked its current prey was a wildly popular RPG series it had helped to resonate with a lower dimensional reality. A certain book loving entity that manipulated mortals within that realm had been able to sense Nomi through that resonance.


    Desiring to claim the abandoned conduit Nomi had disguised itself as, the entity had manipulated events in both dimensions. In the lower, it had manipulated its two conduit books into the hands of a tragic hero, unwittingly shelved for the hero''s adopted child to fall victim to. In the mid dimension, it had reached through the resonance of the game to manipulate a soon to die, weak willed modern man into seeking out and buying Nomi at a fantasy/horror convention.


    With the aid of an elaborate ritual held by one of the entity''s cultists, the alien creature relaxed the hold of reality around his intended child victim''s home and lured the child to tap into the power of its books. Pushing far more of itself through the conduits than the child could stand, it shredded the boy''s soul as it reached through. The man in the other reality died as he was meant to and the entity pulled the man''s soul toward its personal realm to act as the beacon for its power.


    Finished with the vision, the old man appeared in the cheap apartment of the dead man just in time to see a writhing mass of impossible description attempt to grab Nomi out from underneath the dead man''s collapsed body. With inhuman speed, the old man rushed forward and snatched up the book. Old man and book joined abilities to isolate then sever the writhing mass from its host body. In fear and pain it had never experienced before, the entity retreated back to its maelstrom abode at the edge of structured existence, bleeding essence as it fled.


    As the old man slurped up his reward, he looked down at the dead man slumped undignified on the floor as the book sent soft entreaty for help to claim its prizes as well. Assuring Nomi that he hadn''t forgotten, they joined powers once again to take advantage of the alien entity''s hard work. Soon the man''s soul would drift past the child''s spiritual remnants. When that happened, the child''s soul bits that the old man had been keeping from dissipating would be attracted to the man''s soul for survival. Nomi''s power would ride them back to the boy''s body and claim its prize then.


    While they waited, the old man looked around at the scattered evidence of the man''s life. "Ha, you''re name''s Al too? A sad man living a sad life only to be played with by greater forces and die. Nomi, was he good to you?"


    The book sent the old man flashes of its time spent in the apartment. For the majority, Nomi had been stuck up on the bookshelf after the dead man and his girlfriend had looked at a couple of its pages, both equally creeped out. It wasn''t until Al''s girlfriend left him a heartbroken mess that Nomi saw some action, being moved from the bookshelf to the pile of ''that b*tch''s stuff'' and back again every couple of weeks.


    On the last night of Al''s life, he had gotten drunk and started playing ''Rim of the Sky''. Using some home making add-on to the game, the sad and lonely guy had made a family only to wander away and come back to it being gone because of a dragon. Somewhere in the process of making another family and going to fight the last boss, he became so emotionally distressed he''d triggered an aneurysm. Nomi, who''d been sitting on the pile of ex''s stuff that week, was what the man had grabbed and cried on right before he died.


    Leaking a little of the insanity that lied underneath the placid surface of the old man''s personality, the rag wearing hermit said, "Simpering boar t*t, because we shared names I was going to let the boy''s spiritual remains bolster you and let you have a new adventure but even if I did that, you''d probably just waste it! How dare you cry on a book!?"


    The old man reached out with his power, lacerating the dead man''s soul with wounds. Before he did more, Nomi called out.


    The old hermit said, "Being hugged and cried on felt nice? Oh...well, the little boy over there deserves a second chance too. Let them share it. I suppose I won''t be a glutton. Let them have whatever essence ended up on that side."


    ***


    As reality reconstructed itself around Al''s stirring consciousness, the multitude of barely audible voices and flashes of colorful but impossible geometries faded enough for him to see he was in an unfamiliar yet vaguely recognizable place. From his kneeling position, that seemed a little too close to the floor, he saw three open books haphazardly skewed before him. Within a fog of confusion and the sensation of mild hangover, habit kicked him in to motion as he collected the books. As the realization that his hands were far too small and smooth to be his registered, two of the three books vanished before his eyes but not before he recognized them.


    In a childish voice that sounded nothing like his own, Al thought aloud, "My god, the patchwork skin on one and that bark-like cover with the gnarly symbol on the other. Those are, uh, were ''Changing Winds'' and ''Infinite Knowledge''. And this one is ''The Eternium Crystal Wars. I read somewhere that this history book can sometimes act like ''Infinite Knowledge'' when read at the right time. This... I don''t understand. I''m obviously not dreaming. Am I trapped in the game?"


    Fighting down a surge of rising panic, Al stood up and made his way through the two story rustic manor. He finally found what he was looking for in a bedroom, a shield decoration flat and reflective enough to serve as a mirror.


    While looking himself over critically, Al mumbled, " Around ten years old or so with dirty blond hair. Emphasis on the dirty. When was the last time this child took a bath, a week ago?... Aquamarine is not a real eye...Oh, it''s just blue-green heterochromia. Still a bit too bright to be... Okay, I''ve definitely still got a few marbles loose going on about eyeballs in the face of all this f***ing impossible s***!... Well, the features are too soft and too slender boned to be an Empyrean or Northerner so I must be the other white meat, one of those magic loving Highlanders.


    "All in all I guess I''d clean up nice but more importantly, if I''m stuck in the game, how would I access my menu? It''s not like I have a controller. Maybe if I think really hard about inventory? Skills? Status!? Come the f*** on!"


    No stylized screen popped up behind Al''s tightly squeezed eyelids but something did respond to his emotional outburst. A foreign but gentle energy bubbled up from someplace within himself. That energy connected with a more nebulous, alien and dangerous feeling substance that permeated the house like invisible miasma. As if a spark met kerosene, his mind lit on fire with bits and scraps of memory, a messy card stack of incomplete fragments. Not much could be salvaged from the Gordian knot of memories but each and every one was both enlightening and invited even more questions and confusion.


    The child''s name was Orison, the same name Al had wanted to give his orphan before he found out the game didn''t allow it. Through the child''s perspective, he witnessed people being shot down by arrows as a man whispered for Orison to ''hide and make your way as far east as you can'' before leading their pursuers deeper into the darkness. Whatever details existed of that journey or how the child ended up in an orphanage were completely missing. From the small details Al could pick out, it seemed like the western-most mountain border between the North Lands and the Highlands. It was a place where a highly territorial and xenophobic group of Northlanders called the Forgotten lived.


    The memories had a brief bit of clarity when Al''s character picked Orison up from the orphanage but that moment was eerie and more than a little terrifying when seen from the child''s perspective. It started with the child being called over by the orphanage director. A silent staring contest ensued with an expressionless Northlander in heavy armor that occasionally shimmered with magic energy. For some reason the child couldn''t even begin to understand, he realized that the intimidating man had just adopted him.


    The boy said in a rushed panic to the orphanage director, "Really!? You mean this is actually happening!?"


    Dipping into a sarcastic tone while facing the director, Orison continued, "Wow, thanks for trusting me to a complete stranger."


    Turning to Al''s character, the boy finished in a sad and resigned voice, " I promise I won''t trouble you any more than this but... could I just have a moment to get my things and say goodbye to everyone?"


    Taking the stony silence as permission, Orison turned around and went to gather up his meager belongings midst hugs and tearful partings. An unintelligible mix of children''s faces and emotionally meaningful interactions blurred the memories once more. Next, a scene of the child being abducted by Al''s character, blinded by a flash of light and being knocked into a short monolith with a crude wizard etched on to it, came into focus. As Al''s character mumbled something about choosing the wrong ''FT landmark'', Orison had just enough time to ogle the other two monoliths that shifted between real and illusionary before being blinded once again and appearing in front of his new home.


    The last clear memory was of Orison''s cat lady ''mother'' anxiously bidding Orison to mind himself well for no more than two days. She needed to go to the nearest village for desperately needed supplies. Despite that the home was lavish and well furnished otherwise, it lacked nearly all of the most practical and basic necessities. ''To sum it up, it is a home that was all form and little function'' according to Mother Yaya.


    Less than an hour after his adopted mother left, boredom prompted the surprisingly obedient child to park himself beside the bookshelf just outside of the room with alchemy equipment and a magic item workbench. Thumbing through the historical books with the best pictures by the nearby window, Orison felt a faint subconscious tugging after opening ''Magic Crystal Wars''. That subconscious tug had him breaking his word not to go into the alchemy room. With the historical book tucked into his left arm, he reached out with his right to grab the two sinister looking books off the top shelf just inside the door.


    Finding the two books surprisingly weighty, Orison fumbled his hold on all three. On their descent to the floor, they opened up awkwardly in front of him when time or perhaps space seemed to have frozen. Three lines were simultaneously spoken in the same gravelly and chilling voice, seeming to prompt Orison to make choices while supernatural forces were playing tug-of-war with his entire being.


    Absolutely terrified, Orison thought, "Have I opened books of heretical secret insights or the works of a mad mage?"


    The many mouthed voice rung out their dialogues with only a bit of both being caught by the boy in the throws of fear. One confirmed the choice of secret scholarly insight while the other two confirmed knowledge granted from the path of mages. Orison had finally managed to squeeze his eyes shut, as the forces pulling on him started to loosen its hold, but flew widely open in the next moment. Foreign power and knowledge began forcefully stuffing itself into his head, into the very core of his being. Upon once again viewing the books impossibly suspended in air, the gravelly voices repeated their dialogue once more as the supernatural forces resumed their merciless tug-of-war.


    In fear and pain, Orison screamed, "Please, I mean no harm. Cease this mage work. I beg you!"


    A second influx of power and knowledge ruptured his soul and overloaded his mind. And as the conflicting supernatural forces ripped the suddenly unresistant and tattered soul to shreds, the gravelly and chilling voice intoned the confirmation of acquiring follower friendly magic insight and knowledge from the mage path.


    In the sensory deprived darkness, the dying sparks of Orison''s spiritual remnants felt the presence of a weakened and defenseless soul brushing past its space, caught in the wake of the very force that had destroyed itself. Beyond conscious thought or emotion, in an instinctual bid for survival, the remnants did the only thing they could do. Lacking the strength to fight or the ability to devour, the remnants sought out the wounds and weak spots of the helpless soul and silently infiltrated, attaching to it.


    Taking in the pitiful amount of leaking essence that was now available to them, the remnants trudged towards the ghostly echo of their disintegrating other parts. Following the ghastly breadcrumb trail of itself, salvaging along the way, the remnants unknowingly contaminated the parasitized soul with itself even as the remnants were stained with the leaking essence of the soul. By the time the remnants had reached the end of the trail, once again within their mortal vessel, the weary remnants were nearly indistinguishable from their host.


    The rousing soul began integrating the exhausted remnants. The soul didn''t mean to. It was simply the spiritual equivalent to an autonomous reaction like breathing or regulating heartbeat. And in the same vein of automatic response, the soul stretched out to deepen it''s connections with the new mortal vessel, finding it a great deal more spacious than it''s original spiritual seat had been. Under the prime directive of souls, it would desire to grow and fill that space but to do that, the body would need to... wake...up.


    Al''s eyes flew open as he greedily gulped air, his heart beating a tattoo into his chest. For an unknown amount of time he laid curled up on the bedroom floor feeling sorry for himself, for the kid, for not knowing if or how much of a difference there was between the two. He railed against his lost understanding of reality and his place within it. Most of all, he raged against the unknown, the uncertainties of his new world and what other dreadful things the future might hold.


    At some point, he had fallen asleep. He hadn''t been that way for long. His aching body, full bladder and growling belly had made sure of that. It had been long enough, however, to see the shadows get longer. As far as he could tell there was little more than an hour or two of good daylight left and he didn''t want to waste it.


    A few minutes later, as he stared absentmindedly at the sullied table napkin inside the chamber pot, he thought out loud, "What skill is it and how high does it need to be for me to make toilet paper? Is there a possible spell solution for cleanliness? Looks like even with the limitless possibilities of magic it''s going to be a b**** for a modern man to get used medieval fantasy bulls***."


    Chomping down a slightly withered apple and a somewhat limp carrot from the cellar, Al made his way back to the alchemy room and started trying to sort out what he knew and what he most needed to know. It didn''t take much reflection time to realize that Orison wasn''t the only one to lose a few things with their merger.


    Fighting back a new wave of anxiety, he said to himself, "If a ten year old boy can drag us back from hell or wherever despite being blown to pieces, it''s not your turn to be an edge lord. Roll with what you got and try to log some survival increases before nightfall, sad-sack."


    Feeling a little foolish, Al closed his eyes and said, "Alright, Orison. Your memories are scrambled worse than bootleg satellite and mine are Swiss cheese, so it''s gonna take us both being tighter than skinny jeans to get through this. We''re not the queen of England and I don''t want to end up with multiple personality disorder so how does this sound?


    "Since you got the rawest deal and it''s your world, we''ll be Orison. Never liked my name much anyway... And since I''m slightly more put together, I get to spin the wheel of this ship but you''re a hella more driven than I was or would likely ever be on my own, so you get the subconscious engine room. If you believe in psychology, that will make you the real captain. From now on there is no ''we'', there is just two slightly complicated parts of ''me''. Once again, if I put my faith psychology, that won''t make me much different than anyone else."


    The newly minted Orison didn''t know if it was a placebo effect of the pep-talk or if something real and important happened but he suddenly didn''t feel so afraid and anxious anymore. The subtle knot of bitterness that had laid in his chest for a long time had also loosened up into a slightly more positive feeling of pragmatic hope.


    Unknown to himself, Orison''s eyes flickered with a subdued greenish blue glow when they locked onto a magic scroll laying on the enchantment workbench as he said, "Let''s do this."

 2 OEW

    Orison cradled his forehead in his hand melodramatically and said, "Candle Flame!? Well, at least I know I''ll be able to cast it. And it''s a hella lot safer than trudging around with an actual candle. This is a wooden house, for the nine or however many there are''s, sake."


    After casting it a couple of times and realizing the spell lasted a lot longer but magic didn''t fill up with a short rest like he expected it to, Orison ditched the idea of any type of skill grinding. Even learning the spell was more like a brief exercise in academic learning than an automatic ''poof, now you know it'' kind of deal. It may have even taken several days just to learn the basic spell if his head wasn''t filled with various magic theorem and practical experience.


    Sadly, there were only two actual spells he knew from all that supernatural stuffing. There was the tease of a transmutation ritual that upgraded baser metals to more precious ones, way above his pay grade in control ability. He also knew some kind of telekinesis-like spell that he could maybe cast for a split second before going bone dry but it was also way above his control ability. It was worthless except as a possible emergency repulse that might cause him to hurt himself.


    The silver lining was that Orison had an intuitive magic capable of healing scrapes and bruises that also flat-lined his magic tank but would become an absolute gem when and if his magic capacity grew to be more robust. His expectations for more was quickly deflated, however. After reminding himself of the possible consequences for being greedy, Orison racked his brain on ways to safely raise his survivability in the quickest manner.


    "I just wish some of this s*** worked the way it did in the game. Having my damn skill books and the crap I stored in the chests, for instance, would be friggin peachy," Orison thought aloud.


    The dense and oppressive alien energy suffusing the house, that he had managed to temporarily forget about, churned violently before thinning significantly. Wary, Orison looked around and sensed that a portion of the invisible miasma had condensed around the bookshelf. He instantly recoiled away from it and had an epiphany that he''d probably have an instinctual terror of any book that produced even the slightest creepy vibe for the rest of his life.


    "Come on. You know they''re just skill books. Whatever this weird juju is, it couldn''t have made them that dangerous. You''ve been walking in it all day and haven''t grown gills or anything." A slightly unbalanced sounding nervous giggle burst from his lips.


    Steeling himself, Orison reached for the first book and gently pried open the cover, ready to fling it at a moments notice. It was as if he half expected there to be a poisonous snake inside or worse, a spider. Fortunately, only a sliver of understanding about alchemical ingredients and their uses slipped into the ever deepening pool of his mind. Over the period of a few minutes, he opened a book and let the understanding fully settle before setting it back and picking up another.


    Finished with the bookshelf, in a half trance, he briefly considered hunting down the other skill books in the practice yard but his head was already feeling a bit too tight. Weighing his options, Orison decided to take it easy for awhile and made his way to the back balcony, eyes closed against the sun about to enter it''s setting phase over the pristine lake. His rumination was ended abruptly by the sound of shattering wood coming from the master bedroom.


    Orison, quickly but cautiously, made his way there to find a broken chest with more and larger items than it could possibly hold littered around it. The only reason for the phenomenon, that he could guess, was the absolute lack of the alien energy.


    "Maybe that stuff acts like lubrication between real-world physics and things that break it? But if this world already has magic, why the need unless... it''s an order of magnitude thing? Like the difference between spells and the power of, well, gods maybe," he muttered to himself.


    Before his eyes, many of the items that were scattered about the room slowly faded away which prompted Orison to remark, "What the f***? Well, what can I expect? Most of that crap was tied to one malevolent entity or another and most of them hated each other. Even if it was still here I''d probably have to treat it like hazardous waste anyway. At least I don''t have to worry about it now."


    Sifting through the wreckage, Orison took stock of what remained. "All the glass armor and weapons broke. That''s not a big surprise. I always wondered how that dubious s*** would translate to reality. Maybe the arrows would work but that''s more mean spirited than effective."


    Orison vaguely recalled that very little was stored in this chest outside of the vanished collectibles. The remaining bits were sentimental items he personally crafted before he learned how to make completely game breaking ones and a couple of forgotten unique ones.


    "Necklace that boosts regeneration of health and magic, wearing that now. It''s the best item here probably... Ring that gives resistance to poison and disease, I didn''t even think about that. Wearing it now... Steel dagger, were you in the chest or knocked off the dresser?"


    After going through the meager choices of apparel, the only thing that would size to him was the Master''s Robe which upped his magic regeneration further. He found a set of sturdy black boots that made his movements soundless and a bit more effortless which fit well enough to work. Not happy to leave well enough alone, Orison fiddled with the straps on a set of charcoal and silver colored gauntlets until they were only mildly comical and slightly awkward. The effort paid off because they made his outfit feel almost weightless and, through mysterious means, offered his whole body a field of protection strong enough for him feel physically.


    After a few tests, Orison mumbled, "Every little bit helps but whatever it is these gauntlets are doing, it probably wont fully protect me from anything over weak or glancing hits."


    Under fading twilight and the flickering magic glow of his spell, Orison tidied up the room. As he bent to gather up the last pieces of a messily enchanted leather armor set and blood stained assassin garb to squirrel away in his own room, he saw glints of reflected light coming from deep underneath the bed. Sweeping them out, he identified them as two circlets and a gem topped, battered magic staff that looked rather unreliable.


    Combining game memories and real-world magic knowledge, Orison thought aloud, "This staff summons an abyss lord but judging by condition and gem glow, it''s probably only good for one or two shots. I don''t think recharging it is gonna do much beyond finishing it off... I remember this. I threw a water breathe on a circlet to make certain missions easier. Must have put it in the chest by mistake. Aside from looking expensive and very official, I have no idea what this other circlet is."


    Lacking any signs of being dangerous, Orison figured that the quickest way to figure out the second circlet was to put it on. The scene around him was replaced by a vast starry sky before the constellation of a wizard lit up. As the hodgepodge of magical know-how in his brain shuffled into a more organized and concise configuration, he had a brief flash of memory where the boy stumbled into a monolith sporting a picture only slightly similar in shape to the blazing constellation in his mind. Having done the only thing it could do, the circlet that didn''t properly belong to this world faded away along with the vision.


    Still feeling a tenuous connection to the night sky, Orison placed the remaining circlet on his head and shakily said, "Oh, that circlet... Water breathing circlet it is."


    After stowing the rest of his goodies and not yet tired, Orison trudged back downstairs with the notion of finding a way to clean himself into a respectable condition. Two trips to the woodpile and a filled cauldron in the fireplace later, Orison was suddenly struck with an idea.


    Half disbelieving and half hopeful, Orison addressed the alien energy, "I sure wish I had an inventory spaaace, oh, and a long life!..." He paused for a split second before hastily adding as the energy began churning around him, "While still being a people, a huma-er, a Highland people person!"


    The energy lanced into his body like a multitude of numbing icy needles, permeating it, digging into his marrow. At a fundamental level, the energy was removing, replacing and activating things. A portion of miasma split from that to collapse and re-expand in an unknowable direction, just as events were turning in a life threatening direction once more, the alien energy responded to Orison''s silent plea of mercy and stabilized everything before dissipating.


    Winding up to rail at the subconscious side of himself for the sudden childish urge to play with obviously dangerous forces, Orison gritted his teeth and said instead, "I made a deal and for good or ill I''ll stick to it but if I end up doing something that gets me killed it''s on, uh, me. You know who you''re talking to, self."


    Feeling embarrassed and a little schizophrenic, he quickly checked himself over and looked in the shiny shield again. He discovered the only discernible change in previously noted features was that his eyes shifted from a little too bright in color to actually luminescent, though a person would have to be up in his face and in the dark to see it.


    As for the opened space inside him, he found that it was easy enough to put things in, hold it in his hands and will it inside, but required his magic to get things back out. By whatever metaphysical mechanics it worked, he felt as if gravity was getting heavier around him with every pound. Twenty was his current comfortable limit and up to forty was doable if straining but anything above that made it hard to breathe much less move.


    "Not much but when I compare it what I''d be able to carry anyway... Bright side, that''s a s***-ton of marshmallows. Middle side, a lifetime of unending strength training, though it''ll probably take more than just strength to meaningfully increase my capacity," he muttered while gauging how much of the miasma was left.


    About a foot from the floor, Orison could still feel the presence of the alien energy but he could feel a sluggish trickle of it flowing out of the house towards the west.


    "Alright, what''s stealing my wish juice? I died for that stuff. It''s mine!" Orison growled.


    Rushing up to the balcony, Orison looked out into the darkness barely illuminated by a moon mostly hidden behind clouds. In the distance, about a mile from the house, was a faint orange light. A momentary struggle took place between fear of leaving the house and stopping whatever was taking his miasma. Hotheadedness won as he snatched the summoning staff and dagger out of his room before heading off into the night.


    Not daring to use his light spell, Orison relied on the faint moonlight and the subtle presence of the miasma trickle to find his way. By the time he could clearly see the glow of firelight ahead of him, reason and a healthy dose of fear had overpowered the irrational anger. Having come this far, however, Orison couldn''t get himself to leave easily either. Taking the middle path between, Orison decided to take a quick peek and if it looked too dangerous he''d just head home and tell his new mom about it when she got back.


    Cautiously inching forward and peering past the tree line into the well hidden cove, Orison saw a crazy eyed elven man in the throws of ritual.


    The cultist intoned, "Tonight is the tenth night I stand before you, Watcher in the Dark, Keeper of all Knowledge. If the fore-ascribed sacrifices do not appease, then take the heart of this slave as a sign-"


    "Please master, no! Have mercy, I beg you!" a sibilant and feminine voice interrupted.


    As the elf continued to intone his endless litany, oblivious to the entreaties raising up from beside him, Orison''s eyes locked onto the figure of a reptilian faced youth bound to a large metal ring on the side of the makeshift stone alter.


    Orison muttered quietly to himself, "Bet that f***er knows some real magic but I''d be haunted for the rest of my life if I walked away and just let someone be murdered when I could have done something about it."


    Orison focused on the reserve of power within the staff. Drawing it through the enchanted runes, he flung the structured energy as close to the elf as he could. In a dull explosion of darkly glowing energy, an abyssal lord appeared. As it started to swivel back toward Orison, the malevolent but fairly humanoid looking creature''s nose flaring as if trying to catch a scent, it was interrupted by the crazy elf.


    "Are you an emissary of the one I seek to entreat?" The elf said in false bravado.


    The abyssal lord smiled widely, exposing saw-like teeth, as it turned to the elf and said, "It is as you say. The one I willingly follow has a great gift for you. Here!"


    The deep baritone voice carried a mesmerizing quality as it walked with deceptive casualness. Upon it''s last word spoken, the entity''s sword snaked out with whip-like speed. The elf''s head soared through air with a look of anticipatory glee frozen on his face before plunging into the lake water.


    Ignoring the pumps of arterial blood coating it as it turned around and said while looking around generally at Orison''s hiding place, " Come to me, summoner, or I will finish the task I assume you brought me here to prevent." It reached for the reptilian girl''s head.


    "Not your call to make," Orison said snidely as he plied the runes of the staff to assert control only to find, once again, that he lacked the ability to manipulate them in such a complex way.


    "There you are," the entity said as it launched itself at Orison with supernatural speed.


    With as much zeal as he could, Orison smashed the staff gem onto the nearest rock as he screamed, "Suck your mom''s spiky t*ts."


    The resulting minor explosion of magic energy hit both of them with the power of a professional boxer''s full strength. It kicked Orison''s legs out from under him and knocked him back around six feet before landing him face first while barely able to stop the abyssal lord''s forward momentum. So intent was it on killing its summoner that it failed to resist the pull back to it''s home plane now that the anchoring magic was gone. Despite not accomplishing that feat, the residual force of it''s strike slamming into Orison''s back, knocked the air out of the kid''s lungs for a few seconds. Getting his feet back under him, Orison wheezed air into his battered body and hobbled his way over to the alter.


    "F*** magic," Orison said through weak coughs.


    The reptilian girl watched with silent wariness as Orison pawed through her dead master''s corpse until he turned enough for the light of the alter brazier to illuminate his face. Once she realized that the mysterious mage of unknown purpose was a few years younger than even she was, stunned, she stared wide eyed and slack-jawed at his approach.


    Seeing her stunned expression, Orison mistakenly thought his face was more damaged than he thought and paused to run his healing over it before using the key he found to unlock the chain manacles.


    "Sorry I made such a mess of it, trying to save you I mean," Orison said ruefully.


    After a stretched moment of awkward silence, the girl hissed out a laugh that was a little too forceful to be completely genuine before she said, "We are both alive and well at the moment, what more could this one hope for. This one will attempt to enjoy the last few remaining days of life as the gift they are, that honored sir has given to this one."


    Confused, Orison asked, "What do you mean by last few days?"


    "The woes of a slave are beneath honored sir''s concern. If there is nothing more, this one is compelled to return home," the reptilian girl replied .


    As the girl turned to leave, what Orison originally believed to be a choker necklace revealed a rune etched clasp lock in the back.


    Orison spat, "Ancient elf slave magic. Only those b*****ds could make something so ugly look so, so pretty."


    Seeing that she was walking away, he softened his tone and quickly said, "Wait. I won''t make any promises but I might be able to do something about, uh, things I can''t say because it might make you fight me. If it helps, you might find it necessary to tidy up your master''s remains before leaving?"


    With wary confusion in her voice she said, "It wouldn''t do for master''s corpse to be defiled by wolves, true. Please exercise care honored sir. This one would not like it''s last days ridden with guilt for unwillingly hurting such a kind... soul."


    Sensing for and finding a bowl sized pool of the alien energy on the alter, Orison placed the manacle key within it and said under his breath, "I sure do wish this was a control collar key that matched this dead elf''s house signature."


    Orison felt the key suck up the pool of miasma and draw a little more from the trickle leading back up to his house before blue glowing patterns etched themselves onto the key.


    Orison thought to himself, "After all of that, this better work. I hate half-a**ing a job."

 3 OEW

    Palming the key, Orison said, "Your master''s remains would likely be safer up on the alter rock. If you''ll turn around, I''ll help you put him on your back to make it easier...Really, there''s a bit of residual energy that will keep any sane animal from getting too close to it."


    The girl turned and knelt down a bit as if it pained her to do so, then said, "This one will take honored sir''s word on it but please hurry. This one is not much convinced of the worth this task has."


    Levering up the headless corpse, trying his best to keep from getting blood on himself, Orison wrapped the corpse''s hand around the key. Holding the corpse''s hand, he reached over and tapped the key onto the back of the collar while saying ''release'' in ancient elven. Neither the hand nor the word might have been necessary but from the granted knowledge in his head, it was possible and he only had one easy shot at it before further attempts might be more difficult and possibly dangerous to himself if she started fighting him.


    Nothing happened but the reptilian girl started shuddering where she knelt. The girl turned to look at Orison with bloodshot eyes causing him to drop the body and back up.


    "It''s not what it seems. There was, um, something in your masters hand and-" Orison stammered out before he was interrupted.


    As if it pained her, the girl slowly said, "No need for games of deceitful words and honorable sir is safe from this one. Little threads are pulling out of this one''s body and it hurts greatly."


    Orison replied, "Then do whatever you need to make yourself more comfortable and let me know if something feels wrong. Well, more wrong I guess."


    A couple of minutes later, the collar opened with and audible click and fell to the ground. The girl hobbled weakly over to the grass and said, "It shames this one to ask but if it does not offend honorable sir, there is a water skin in the boat over there that I am in need of."


    While walking over to get the skin, Orison replied, "Hey, no problem. By the way, no need to be so formal. You''re a free woman. I''m Orison and I''ve been calling you, well, ''you'' this whole time so feel free to do the same."


    Orison handed her the skin and after she had taken a few drinks she said, "Y-you can call this one Lithis, son of Ori."


    Meaning to chuckle but sounding more like he was giggling, Orison said, "Oh, my name actually translates to something like ''small prayer''. I''m a Highlander not a Northlander. No offense taken or anything. I just felt like clarifying."


    A little embarrassed, Lithis replied, "This one thinks that must be a mistake many make since we are deep within the Northland. Merely a few days travel further north and one could see the Rim of the Sky on a clear day, or so this one''s been told."


    As time passed while Orison waited for Lithis to get her strength back, they bantered for a bit and he learned a bit more about the world around him. The truth began to sink in more than ever that even though this world might share some striking similarities with the game he played, it was actually quite different. This realization made him think that maybe the most important books in his house weren''t ones that granted a bit of skill. If he wasn''t careful, his assumptions could lead to fatal mistakes. After all, it already almost had.


    Both anxious to return home, Orison for sleep and Lithis to free the other slaves she was close to, the girl handed him a journal and a scroll then said, "These are magical things that will do this one no good, so you take them. Are you sure you can return home safely, there are wolves in these woods, Orison."


    Orison assured, "No one is ever completely safe but wolves rarely attack people. Even if the wolves around here are more aggressive, I probably smell like scary things right now. Besides, I just live up the hill, so to speak."


    As she climbed into the boat, she said, "This one wouldn''t know. Marshlanders have a different way of smelling. Be safe."


    The long, mostly uphill trudge was mercifully uneventful. By the time Orison barred and locked everything on the first floor that could be, the desire for sleep far outstripped any other want or need as he unwittingly nodded off on the cushioned long-bench by the bookshelf that held the history books. It was a place that had been more Orison''s bed than the one in his room since he got here from the orphanage.


    It was still dark when he awoke with a start. Bits and scraps of his dream were little more than a highlight reel of all the worst parts of the previous day''s experiences. It dawned on him, belatedly, that a person was killed violently in front of him and it was his fault. Despite overreacting to some things, his reaction to indirectly killing someone was rather ambivalent. That the guy deserved it was irrelevant. He realized that his emotional state was more than a little unbalanced and dwelling on the whys of that would likely do more harm than good at the moment.


    "Pack it away for now and take it out on someone passive-aggressively later like a good little beta male." Orison smelled himself and continued, "I got way more important things to do."


    Fighting against the predawn chill of mid spring in the Northlands, Orison struggled with a piece of flint and his dagger only to earn himself a nicked thumb. Feeling irritated and not up to caring about the extravagant waste of it, he grabbed a twist of waxed paper off the alchemy table and dumped the red salt into the fireplace with a few dribbles of water. In moments, flames were dancing around slightly damp wood.


    "That''s a really expensive fire but hell, if the alchemy room wasn''t ground zero for whatever happened here, it probably would have reverted to magical horseradish powder or phosphorus anyway," Orison reasoned as he took in the subtle and not so subtle changes that the house was going through, a process he coined ''becoming authentic''.


    While he waited for the water in the cauldron to boil, Orison made his way to the practice yard, eager to hit the martial skill books. Taking a step out onto the large raised deck, he took in a lungful of clean, crisp air and sighed in satisfaction. In the distance a dim glow on the horizon signaled that morning wasn''t far away.


    Seeing the the dew laced landscape, Orison said, "Bet this''ll shine like the whole place is decked in diamonds once the sun pops out. Wait... Does it do this everyday? No, no no no no!"


    Rushing over to the bookcase exposed to the outside world, Orison recast his light spell and assessed the damage, absorbing what skills he could along the way. "It''s bad but not a complete loss. At least I know how to put armor on right and a bit about basic proper forms for combat. It''s a lot more complicated than I thought. Once I get a little stronger, I might even be able to pass as a pint-sized army recruit, if barely.


    "Alright, hard decision time. Do I use what''s left of the wish juice to beef up my stats or do I use it to make some alchemy items... Honestly, I''m terrified of what it might do to me and real alchemy is a long and drawn out pain in the ass, also dangerous. I don''t even want to think about how hard the good ingredients for real world potions are to obtain personally much less buy. I''d be tempted to sell some of the little I have but who knows what kind of negative attention that would get me since they''re kinda not supposed to exist here."


    Eventually, Orison settled for a compromise. He carefully worded for results that mimicked a year of the best age-appropriate martial and magical training available. The results were that he passed out for a few seconds from indescribable pain and nearly ruptured his magical apertures which wouldn''t have just magically crippled him. He would have died.


    He felt like he got around a three times boost to both, about the starting line for an average fifteen year old getting started as a mercenary or a college apprentice. Aside from almost killing himself again, there wasn''t much he could pick at. There was nothing ''average'' about having magic to begin with and getting into a college required wealth or connections, outside unusual circumstances. Mercenaries might pick up a sturdy looking farm boy here and there to make up the numbers but many recruits came from their own families, children who grew up getting the basics drilled into them as soon as they were strong enough to swing a sword.


    After taking stock of ingredients, Orison spent the last remaining wisps of free alien energy to create a wide range, if meager in number, selection of potions. The two best were ones that could theoretically cure anything except being undead, even lycanthropy. It was the product of game imitating energy and granted real world knowledge. Coincidentally, the newly expanded comfort capacity in his inventory was only just a bit more than the total weight of the potions, around ten pounds.


    In the process of labeling the last potion of healing, Orison set it down when he heard a loud hiss come from the main room. The cauldron had boiled over and doused the fire.


    "Damn it," Orison cursed weakly.


    A quarter of an hour and two scalding blisters later, Orison was soaking in the horse trough out front of the smithy, muttering to himself, "Without healing magic I''d look like a road map before I''m twelve... Note to self, from now on, no sleeping with stamina refilling boots on. I don''t know if anyone''s did studies on the affects of regeneration enchantments and children but somebody should... The only thing that''s left to check out is the smithy chest but it could bust open at any time and I don''t even know what''s still in it. Am I safe right now? There''s a lot of sto-"


    His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tightening string and a man''s voice saying, "Stay right where you are boy... Bear, Weasel, case the house and make sure no one else is here. We''re only a candle mark ahead of Droya so no solo runnin. Don''t matter if you get to somethin before me or not. We all strip at the den. Them''s the rules... I said don''t move, boy. Keep your eyes forward."


    Not liking his odds of dodging an arrow, Orison complied for the moment and asked, "Would it be alright to put my clothes on as long as I keep my eyes forward?"


    The man behind him chuckled and said, "Well, aren''t you cool as a mountain cap. No...Fact is, the less you do and know, the greater your chance of livin. We''re thieves by trade, not killers, but I won''t lose much sleep either way."


    Orison replied with false joviality, "Well I hope you guys are done doing your thing before my water gets cold. I''d hate to survive this just to die from pneumonia."


    The man assured, "Aside from being light a thing''r two, everthin''ll be right as rain in two shakes as long as you don''t get dumb. Scout''s, uh, thief''s honor. That''s a thing, aint it?"


    While scrambling to come up with a reply, Orison heard someone say ''clear'' in the house.


    The man behind him shouted into the smithy shed door, "Then come out here and you two throw lots in front''a me to see who does what. That way there wont be no bickerin later... Bear, don''t look at em like that. We aint got the time and you''ll have whorin coin soon enough. "


    The man was answered by a heavy grunt.


    Another male voice with the lilt of the feline folk cut in, "Waste of time th-...Would you look at him, Owl? The so called hero has almost trained the boy crippled. Can''t believe Droya would allow that."


    Looking at himself, Orison had to admit he didn''t exactly look natural for a ten or so year old but that was going off of modern standards. Even though his wish might have been answered a little too enthusiastically, he had a hard time believing a really fit preteen was that much of a rarity here. Of course, Highland folk naturally ran a little more delicate than the average Empire citizen much less Northlanders.


    The bowman said, "Bear, throw lots then open chests. Ya hard-headed Orc lis-"


    With only a moment to register the sound of rusty hinges being forced to move coming from the smithy behind him, Orison''s world exploded into dust then darkness.


    ***


    Orison awoke with a moan and mumbled, "From now on. If I ever run into wish juice again, it''s strictly for item making. It''s the only thing that doesn''t almost kill me. Ju-"


    Interrupted by the familiar voice of a black furred, green eyed cat lady, Droya said as she appeared above him, "Thank the maker. Do you know who you are?"


    Orison briefly looked around him to realize that he was laying on his back in his bedroom before he said, "Philosophically or literally?... I''m Orison?" He finished lamely as she waited for a real answer.


    Expectantly she asked, "How does your head feel? No, don''t touch it. I''ll check it, alright? I just want to know if it hurts."


    A little panicked from being stopped trying to touch his own head, he replied, "Nooo...Should it?"


    She took a vinegary smelling rag from a bowl on his dresser and started wiping what looked like blood clots out of his hair as she said, "When I came home, There were smashed pieces of people all over the smithy. The smithy itself was mostly intact but most of the shed built around it is in bits all over the yard. One of my people, a Bastet man, who was left with his front half inside the house, died trying to open a bottle marked ''Best He'' in grease pencil. Whatever that was supposed to mean I was fair certain it was a healing draught, a powerful one I thought. Looks like I was right... I found you underneath an overturned trough, naked as the day you were born and bleeding a great deal from where the trough had partially scalped you, when it flipped over on top of you, I suppose. Luckily, it looked like you were trying to tuck yourself into it or you would have probably lost a limb or cut your head clean open.


    "I was in such a fright that you would die. I''ve only seen a real magic healing potion once in my life but after pouring a couple drops, I could see the skin joining back together. So I poured some vinegar on your skull and... You know what? Let''s not talk about that. Don''t worry. Everything seems to be put together right and I''m sure no one will notice that your hair line is a little different."


    Concerned, Orison asked, "Can I have the shiny shield from the other room?"


    Droya replied, "Maybe in a moment. Would you tell me what happened?"


    He took a some time to collect his thoughts and said, "Well, I was taking a bath when the robbers showed up..."


    Droya prompted, "And then?"


    Orison said, "And then boom, dust and darkness. Maybe they opened something dangerous in the smithy shed."


    After thinking for a moment, she muttered, "Makes me concerned for what might be in the alchemy room."


    Thoughtlessly Orison replied, "Oh, that''s fine,"


    With a dangerous glint in her eye, Droya loomed over Orison and said, "And why would you say that, little cub?"


    Thinking fast, Orison plastered a saccharine smile on his face and demurred, "Well, because we were robbed and the smithy shed was what blew up."


    She chided, "I''ll let it go this time but you WILL NOT go in the alchemy room again until I''ve made well and good sure that it is safe. Who knows how your father is going to react when he gets home."


    Droya looked gloomy as she sat back into the chair she had brought into the room and stared out the window.


    Orison felt a little guilty as he thought to himself, "I don''t think that''s going to happen."


    To change the subject and because he really wanted to know, Orison asked, "Did you happen to see a robe in my size and a pair of black boots?"


    She turned to look at Orison sadly and said, "Back to you, is it? Do you not want to call me Momma Yaya anymore?... The robes are drying by the hearth and your boots are at the foot of your bed."


    Startled that his casualness had hurt the woman''s feelings, Orison reached out and patted her arm then said, "Sorry, um, mom. It''s been hard on you."


    Droya stared blankly at Orison then started laughing so hard she had to wipe a tear from her eye, "It''s been hard on me, he says. Nearly had his head chopped off by a horse trough but it''s been hard on me. Oh you precocious little cub." Standing up she continued, "Better get your sleep in. As long as you''re not drooling or fainting, tomorrow you''re helping me clean this disaster of a house. Robbers didn''t soot up the hearth pot and fireplace."


    As she finished cleaning his head with vinegar water and urging him to drink a cup of water and another cup of lukewarm soup, Orison realized that it was starting to get dark outside. He had been knocked out for nearly the whole day and judging by the lack of his need to relieve himself plus new sheets and blanket he was pretty sure he did some embarrassing things while he was out. Silently he vowed to himself to reduce near-death experiences to a more reasonable average.


    As Droya was leaving with cups and bowl of bloody water in hand, Orison said, "Mom, can you make sure all the doors and windows are barred?"


    She turned and said, "Of course I can, sweetling," then walked out, leaving the door open. And at least for tonight, Orison was perfectly fine with that.

 4 OEW

    When Orison awoke the next day, quite a few worries plagued him now that another person was added to the mix. It was doubly so considering this person was practically a stranger that had legal guardianship over him. For the time being, most of those worries seemed to be unfounded as she was a genuinely likable person. And though she could be a bit of a firm hand when it came to what she believed Orison should and shouldn''t be doing, her demands and restrictions were fair and more than understandable considering their current situation. That a part of Orison relished the attention and guidance of this kind and steady woman was something he decided to accept. After all, he knew people were not designed to live without connection. That was a fact orphans and a modern hermit understood more than most.


    The mystery of the disappearing chest contents was eventually solved when he realized that there were a few more trees around the west side of the house and the stone faced hill nearby was moderately larger with conspicuous rusty veins running through it. Apparently, the ''becoming authentic'' process had translated the materials in as innocuous a way as possible. Surprisingly, he did find some precious metal ingots and unprocessed moonstone while cleaning up. Out of guilt and to avoid suspicion, if and likely when Droya found some of her own, Orison turned over a third of what he found.


    Orison balked hard when Droya revealed her intentions to collect up all their new found wealth and lock it away until her husband returned to discuss it. Mixing truth and lies, he reasoned that living like paupers would hurt the hero''s image, that his ''father'' held titles with substantial wealth in safekeeping at Whiteriver and claimable holdings in the Centerland Empire. He fabricated a story of his conversation with the man that revealed the hero as a hobbyist blacksmith and overzealous in preparation for his child and future children''s paths in life, with the alchemy room and training yard as evidence. Taking the risk of saying too much and to test her trustworthiness, he even explained that there were two eternium crystals set aside in the house somewhere for either his first enchantment or to ease his way at whatever mage college he could attend.


    In deep contemplation, Droya fiddled with the hidden purse she had found on the Bastet thief that contained a handful of gems and the two priceless enchanting crystals, then said ruefully, "Impulsively passionate yet scatterbrained, stoic yet kind, this sounds like the man I know as well. Not that I can claim to have known him well enough. He may not have been Bastet but that golden Northlander beard and mane were quite fetching in the sunset and what hotblooded woman could resist a true in-the-flesh hero? Pity we did not have more... ahem.


    "At any rate, I suspect some of what I found on this distant kinsman to be his own savings and a bit of allowance for our personal wants isn''t inappropriate... That doesn''t mean we''ll suddenly become spendthrifts, however, little cub. As for the crystals, I don''t doubt that they are for you but even if your father didn''t give it much thought, I must. I''ll place them in the hidden lock box underneath the fireplace. The key for that''s in the hollow of the lid on the cracked pickle jar in the cellar, just in case something should ever happen to me... Please don''t betray my trust, sweetling, and remember that each one is worth more than most could make in a lifetime. All of those and more might murder one small child for such a thing. Do you understand what I''m saying?"


    Taking a dry swallow, Orison replied, "I do, Momma Yaya."


    ***


    The following few days were some of the most peaceful and fulfilling in Orison''s memories. Mornings filled with chores where Droya filled in the boy''s missing common knowledge on how to do such things as light the fireplace, lead to afternoons of combing through history books and acclimating himself to his meager collection of martial skills. Orison discovered that Droya was fairly proficient with dagger work and archery which she was more than happy to impart. And since Orison was tactful enough not to be intrusive about a past she obviously was uncomfortable speaking about, she returned the favor by not asking about the unfamiliar scroll and mage''s journal she caught him with. Although she did look at the scroll, comb through the journal and burn the pages related to the summoning ritual, lecturing him about trafficking with hedge witches all the while.


    The study of said scroll and journal bore some useful, if not completely need fulfilling, fruit as well. His first and most personally satisfying gain was the spell of his hopes and dreams which made lighting a fire and creating a cold beverage relatively simple. It could even do a passable job of cleaning something, though when used on himself, it wasn''t nearly as thorough as a good wash. The alternating waves of heat and cold wasn''t particularly pleasant either and he was pretty sure using it on wood surfaces regularly wouldn''t be a good idea.


    The spell from the scroll, moodily named ''Summon Stupid Horse'', was only useful as carefully utilized transportation. It only verbally responded to kneel, stand, walk and run spoken in ancient elvish by anyone touching it. And though it would respond to it''s reins and heel kicks, it did so a bit sluggishly, making it''s ''run'' mode a tricky proposition with obstacles around.


    The real surprises gained from learning this spell came more from Droya who revealed that learning spells from scrolls was considered a pipe-dream to the few mages she ever had dealings with. Through hearsay, she explained that only an archmage was guaranteed to have the wide range of theoretical knowledge necessary and nearly all young acolytes only had access to the spells spoon-fed to them from the master mage they served.


    Orison thought, "Control knowledge and control the population. A mage''s entire future practically lies in the hands of the one and only master that teaches them. The two colleges are better than the guilds about disseminating knowledge but they are notoriously expensive or hazardous for the health as the only ways to mitigate tuition are completing tasks, usually dangerous, or assisting with experiments which sounds awfully a lot like code for volunteering to be a part of said experiments. Well, there''s the Sigil Order but who wants to be a magic monk world police officer. Hehe. Magic Monk World Police, I''d watch that movie." A sudden cold chill cut off his train of thought.


    Aside from a buggy battleaxe conjuring spell that would take weeks if not months to fix, the rest of the journal was locked behind a cipher that he thought would probably take a long time to break unless he got lucky. With magic scrolls not being a ''bought at the market'' kind of thing and the poor chance of talking Droya into using connections she likely took a long time distancing herself from, Orison realized his magical studies were about to become a great deal less productive.


    With an expanded budget and a great deal more faith in Orison''s ability to defend himself or at least escape with a little help, Droya was itching to return to the nearby village for more extensive shopping. That she planned to fully exploit the limitations of ''Summon Stupid Horse'' was fully justified as ''helping her little cub with his magic studies''. And after seeing Droya in full gear for the first time, he had no desire to argue. Not that he wanted to. He was just as eager as her, not giving a damn if the house burnt down while they were gone.


    After sharing what little horsemanship Droya knew, they both felt confident enough to let Stupid Horse run for the largest part or the journey, only slowing down when they were getting near the village. To while away the time and distract himself from the metal bits of Droya''s leathers digging into his back, Orison asked about the village and tested Droya''s bottom line on what he could ask for based off what was available. When Orison turned their most wanted item into a count of three confession game, their combined answer of soap sent them both into a short lived bout of chuckles. Orison was certain, however, that what kinds they wanted would have a vastly different outcome since this world, much less this village, was guaranteed to not have his favorite brand.


    Orison was surprised to see that a wall surrounded the center most part of the village and even more so that despite having a wall, there wasn''t a guard at the opened gate. As they did their shopping, he asked Droya about the current state of affairs in the Northlands. While not much, it still enlightened him about the barely avoided civil war and the current political cold war between the Centerland Empire and Summerland Domain for resources and alliances. One which Northland was happy to exploit since the two forces were at least half, if not more, of the reason why a civil war almost happened.


    Droya stopped by the trader''s post to arrange for her distant acquaintance''s cremated remains to be delivered to his family which prompted Orison to ask, "So the bastet guy, he was actually related to you?"


    Droya was silent long enough that Orison was about to apologize for asking when she said, "He''s someone that I once knew. Not well but I used to ''run'' with his cousin and his mother was kind to me once when she had no reason to. It was enough of a favor to return her son to her, nothing more."


    Orison thought to himself, "Well, that''s nice I guess. I mean, who knows how much of that ash is actually him and not his buddies or our burnable trash. It''s the thought that counts right?... Now that''s done. It''s time to do the thing I''ve been looking forward to, other than buying soap."


    The local blacksmith, who most just referred to as the pot mender, looked in need of heart medicine as Droya set the broken and twisted pieces of metal from the orc''s breastplate and the bowman''s shortsword on the counter.


    She asked in a smooth, almost purring voice, "How much for the scrap metal?"


    Part of the conversations the odd mother and son pair had over the past few days revolved around the hows and whys of the home invasion. After pouring over every single detail of her last trip to the village, the best she could come up with was a momentary slip of the tongue where she told the pot mender she couldn''t wait around for her order to be forged. She explained she had a boy at home alone to worry about.


    Plenty of people would have liked to go visit the hero''s home. But said hero had a reputation of being civil and amiable when he was the one doing the approaching, kill first and ask questions later under the slightest provocation when he was being approached. At the barest hint of possibility that the one simply known to most as the Dragonblood, was home, not even a kindly neighbor would dare approach without good reason, much less thieves. Such a slip is exactly what an opportunist would be waiting to hear.


    Whether it was the pot mender himself or one of his loitering customers who was responsible for leaking Droya''s slip, the message lying within the scrap metal would be a powerful deterrent from future repeats.


    For good measure, doing his best to look haunted, Orison said, "Oh, seeing those reminds me. I found a finger yesterday that we and the wolves missed." Turning to Droya he continued watery eyed, "Those men won''t blame us for not finding all their pieces right? I don''t think I could stand any more ghosts in our house."


    Stunned for a moment, which only made it more believable when she said, "The only things in that house are the things your father wants to be there. Since he wants you there too you have nothing to fear. Only unwanted things have to worry."


    Trying very hard to keep from laughing, as soon as Droya was handed her wares by the shaky handed blacksmith, Orison looked much like a boy who didn''t want to cry in front of strangers as he darted out of the shop. He hadn''t expected that she would follow up his hammy performance to extort the blacksmith into exchanging the scrap metal for her goods. Orison didn''t see anything wrong with it though. As they were putting on their performance it was obvious that even if he wasn''t the main culprit, he knew what was happening and didn''t tell anyone.


    Patting Orison on the shoulder as they walked away from the smithy, Droya said, "A fine bit of support, little cub...It''s only midday and all our shopping is done. Do you have any small requests? I managed to squeeze a few extra silvers out of that trumped up pot mender that aren''t worth mentioning beside what I got out of Gorm at the trading post."


    Orison thought about it and said, "Fancy a bite at the tavern? I imagine it''s a little more family friendly at this time of day and I don''t think breakfast stuck with me well enough to want to wait until we can whip up something once we get home."


    Droya smiled and said, "As long as they aren''t too busy, I don''t see why not. It''s good to see your appetite improving. It amazes me how you managed to get stronger while eating so little. Were you sick when my husband brought you to me? The first day I saw you, you were pale and frail looking but the day I pulled you out from the trough was the first time I got a proper look at you. I don''t know what you were doing at the orphanage but you shouldn''t push yourself too hard. Over-training can ruin your body."


    Orison replied wryly, "So they say." Then thought to himself, "Are all bastet pediatric physical therapists or something? I''m starting to develop body image issues over here."


    While waiting for their midday meal, Droga slowly nursing a pint of local brew, a familiar sibilant voice said, "Orison, is that you."


    He whipped around to face the voice, inwardly cringing against the inevitable souring of Droga''s mood. The reptilian Marshlander face that greeted his eyes dashed any hopes of a more fanciful reason a person might call out to him.


    While he reassured his suddenly tensed mother that everything was alright, the slightly older Marshlander to her right said, "Are you certain that this is the one who rescued you? He looks even younger than you said." The last part uttered with a sense of relief.


    Orison felt a sudden building tension headache as he sighed out, "Yeah, I''m clean and I haven''t beaten my face into the ground any time today."


    Lithis hastily chirped, "It''s definitely him. Orison this is my... uh-"


    The young reptilian man put an arm around her shoulder and said, "Lover. After she follows me home, she''ll be my wife."


    Lithis'' silent frozen smile and body language that neither invited nor discouraged closeness spoke volumes Orison was intent on not acknowledging. He might have saved her from getting her heart cut out but was uninterested in what she did with it or the rest of her body.


    Half smiles and half building storm clouds, Droya said, "Just what our midday meal was missing, a good story. I can''t wait to hear it."


    Before Lithis could shoot him in the foot harder than her boyfriend had with his rescue reveal, Orison twisted and simplified the story: He felt an ominous energy building in the house. Unwilling to wait until something bad inevitably happened, he followed it to it''s source. Upon seeing the situation, he used a little magical know-how to disrupt the ritual which caused it to backfire on it''s caster, killing the crazy elf. He found the slave collar key and tricked her into letting him free her then showed her how to use it to save her father. He went home happy with his good deed. A deed, he emphasized, that was fully repaid with the scroll and journal. He finished with a toast to the couple''s beautiful future life together and with a breaking voice, loudly begged the bar maid for a refill of whatever fruit drink he had.


    Droya, facial expression unchanged said, "That story is far less entertaining than I expect it should be."


    Smiling angelically, Orison replied, "That''s the problem with dutiful and obedient folks, absolutely colorless imagination."


    She purred darkly, a voice Orison filed under intimidation tone, "Indeed." Turning to the couple, she continued more mildly, "My son, a child, risked his life for you. Cherish it." Once finished speaking, she looked at the contents of her pint tin as if something important was floating inside.


    Gathering her courage against the unspoken dismissal, Lithis blurted out, "I-if it''s not too much trouble, this one''s father and Mr. Morrel would want to also say a word of thanks to honorable sir a-and miss-tress, mistress."


    Droya sighed and said, "There''s no harm in it. I... would like a few words in private with my son while we eat our meal.


    Once the couple half bowed solemnly and left, Droya mulled her thoughts to Orison. "I''ll try my best to put this into words and you listen, alright?... You saved someone so I''m proud of you. You put your life at risk so I''m scared you''ll do it again. You didn''t tell me so I''m angry. I''d only be sad and disappointed you didn''t feel like you could trust me on other things but killing someone and freeing slaves will earn you enemies. Enemies I ca-. Thank you, Mina-. We''ll finish this after you''re done eating.

 5 OEW

    Trying to slow down towards the last half of his meal didn''t buy Orison any time. It just meant he wouldn''t get to finish as Droya started right where she left off as if she had only paused for a breath rather than took twenty minutes to eat.


    She said, "I can''t protect you from an enemy I don''t know you have. In case you didn''t know, that''s one of many jobs I accepted when I decided to be your mother. I don''t know what you think of me, Orison, but I didn''t do that with halfhearted feelings.


    "I don''t expect you to put all your trust in me right away. I know there will be times we don''t see eye to eye and I''m far from perfect. I''ll make mistakes. But when my life is done and I face the woman who gave you life in the great beyond, I don''t want to do it ashamed. That means, as much as I want you to like me, as much as I want us to be as close or closer than a mother and son by birth, I will not compromise on the important things. I will not bribe you for your affection at the cost of your well-being. I sure as the abyss won''t stand idly and watch you throw yourself into needless danger, not until life or circumstance force us to part.


    "Confide in me and I''ll be your safety net. Earn my trust, inspire my faith in you and I''ll give you freedom. Lie to me, make a fool of me and I''ll become your jailer until you''re an adult. That would be a long five years for both of us...Now what should I do? It''s difficult to find an appropriate punishment for a child who never plays!"


    Droya''s chuckle earned a nervous one from Orison before she said, "I just bought a new hand thresher. When we get home I''ll divide the yard up into seven parts and you''ll do one a day til they''re done. Take your time and space it out because other than that you have nothing else to do for the rest of the day except stuff one side with food and empty the other until bed. No books and no training for a week.


    And before I hear a complaint about it, I swear if something happens to your precious history books during that time, robbing you of a precious learning opportunity, I''ll buy replacements for each and every one, even if I have to hock my mother''s jewelry to do it.


    "Even if you hadn''t gotten in trouble I''d have made you take a break from the training yard until I figured out how much is good for you to be doing at your age... Orison, girls might admire a hero but, in my mind, that''s the last thing a mother should want her son to be. Be happy, live well and live a long time."


    Orison stewed on her words and said, "I''ll admit to trying to downplay the situation and for that I''ll take my licks but for what I did, for taking the risk to save that girl, I don''t feel the least bit sorry and I''d do it again. I can''t not be me."


    She smiled sadly and said, "I''m more angry at myself than you for that, little cub. I wasn''t there and I feel like I should have been. One whole day and one whole night was enough to almost lose you twice, to undo everything I had tried to do to let you know you were safe... It made me feel like I was the liar.


    "But enough about that. This is about you. You attack each day like you expect the sky to fall. You fill every second squeezing every drop of worth from everything around you like you expect it to disappear... I''m not saying it can''t happen and I know I''m not strong enough to hold up the whole sky but I feel like I can hold up the sky around our house for a week though. Cut some grass and watch the sun set. Sing a song and pull some weeds. Get sweaty and go take a bath in the horse trough, if that''s what you want to do but but breathe, sweetling.


    "Find a way to ease the tension inside you even when the world seems dark at midday. Play for The Maker''s sake. It''s not your turn to hold the sky up yet but even if it was, you''ll fall to your enemies without them even having to lift a hand if all they have to do is tap your strings and watch you wear yourself to nothing."


    They left the tavern thinking their own thoughts. Meeting Rithus, Lithis'' father, and Morrel, the ex-slave steward of their house brought some new and surprising considerations. It seemed that Droya knew Morrel, a middle-aged wood elf with faded facial tattoos and filed teeth in dire need of being coated with resin again or they''d rot out of his head. Apparently, a few years back, Droya was being chased by some Summer Domain soldiers and Morrel had hid her under his coachman seat.


    After learning that Rithus and Morrel had divvied up the majority of the loose wealth the crazy elf''s son didn''t know about to fund Lithis and her lover''s trip back home and was looking for work, Droya wanted to take them in but was too afraid of reprisal from the crazy elf''s son. A problem that Orison had a ready solution to. Instead of trying to hide the truth of Orison''s deed outright, he suggested they leave it an open secret by taking the two in and letting it be known by courier to the elf''s son that they had the journal with his father''s ugly deeds in it and remind the son that Orison''s father had inheritable Empire titles. With a small reminder that even the dumbest of investigators could uncover the trail of Orison''s rescue of a slave damsel from an unknown cultist, with or without proof, the Empire could use an unfortunate event happening to the family of the Dragonblood to raise the Abyss itself. The Summerland Domain would fall all over itself to look for a scapegoat only to find one all too easy. Since the Domain didn''t like heretics anyway it was a win-win for everyone but the crazy elf''s house.


    To put it simply, from a practical standpoint, Orison convinced Droya that taking in the two ex-slaves was more insurance not danger. If she wasn''t able to breathe and relax after not doing what her conscious was wanting her to do then how could she expect him to?


    "You need a maid. Our house is huge, the distance to the village is long. You''re a war leader''s wife and a baroness of the Empire. Since you just got us a competent, if a little scary, steward and a general staff all you need is a maid. I mean, they came with their own cart and horses, maybe a maid would come with free sewing equipment or something... The new mini wood bath house that Rithus made is nice and all but the trough heated itself if you left it in the sun for an hour or so. We could maybe put a wood stove in it? Oh, and one for the water closet after a vent''s been put in. Don''t just shoot it down. The water tank and flushing bowl, the small basin for hand and face washing were both good right?" Orison opined to Droya on day six of his ''relax'' punishment.


    When Orison finished much earlier than he intended, he started thinking about ways to make their lives better. Since writing materials were banned when he was caught doodling possible cipher cracks instead of poetry, he would shotgun blast them at Droya to see what would stick.


    In annoyance she growled, "When I told you to play I didn''t mean use my last nerve as a jumping rope."


    He said, "One last thing and I''ll go play in the mud or something."


    Wide eyed, she said, "Don''t you dare!"


    Grinning cheekily Orison drawled, "Because there is no maid to help with the washing? Okay! Okay! Stop chasing me and I''ll get to the point and away from your ear... How long are you going to wait?"


    Droya narrowed her eyes. "Wait for what?"


    Orison sighed. "I don''t want this to turn into a fight but mom, we are living in a paused story. I understand many of the reasons why you want to wait til dad gets back but three weeks without even a courier note? Not that I''m advocating for greed''s sake but dad is rich and if, just if, something has happened, no one will just volunteer it to us. The more time passes, the greater the chance of others finding ways to siphon it elsewhere.


    "At the very least, write an inquiry of estate to Whitewater. That''s an official request that at least lets them know you''re not content to waste away over here, oblivious. It also holds the treasurer accountable, as in, he has to send you an official record of account with a list of assets. That''s something which can be used to investigate fraud. Don''t forget the signet seal so the document''s arrival will be recorded at every stop. Don''t want anyone pulling a lost in transport excuse."


    Droya exclaimed, "How do you know all this?"


    Orison thought for a moment and replied, "Record of Northland Law and Amendments. The volume in our libr-. I read it BEFORE you punished me."


    Droya conceded. "I''ll look it over. If you''ve remembered it right, I''d be a fool not to. It just feels bad planning for the worst, it''s like I''ve lost faith."


    Orison replied, "Faith after confirmation. Conviction after evidence."


    ***


    "Morrel, please wait! Don''t push any further! It''s starting to really hu-hurt!," Orison panted.


    Morrel chuckled as he added just a little more pressure, "It''s your first time so you''re going to be really tight. Just take as deep a breath as you can and let it out slowly. Yes, just like that."


    Orison''s shuddering breath turned into a half sob as he felt himself widen just a bit more, trying desperately to relax his muscles to accommodate the wood elf leaning into him.


    Morrel started breathing a little heavier, feeling the strain of maintaining absolute control of his body and Orison''s as he said, "The longer this takes, the more pain you feel. Once you take it all the way down it will not hurt nearly as much. After a couple of times, not only will it stop hurting, it will start feeling good. Eventually your day wont even feel complete until you''ve done it at least once."


    Letter in hand, Droya walked in on them. Eyes wide and hand flying to her mouth, she said, "Oh my! And in broad daylight!?"


    With legs nearly 160 degrees apart and Morrel nearly doing a push-up on his back, Orison rolled his watery eyes and said in a raspy squeak, "Don''t be gross, mom."


    Righting himself, Morrel complained, "His body is still mildly out of balance and unnaturally resistant to change. That it has only taken two fortnights to right the hidden wrongs within him is short of a miracle."


    Droya said ruefully, "Pity it wasn''t short of my purse strings. No, don''t think I doubt you. Just one look and I can tell those Emerald Vale herbs did him a world of good. I''m just venting stale air. Hehe, all that basting, baking and boiling-"


    Orison interjected, "Don''t forget freezing. I doubt that lake is fit for swimming even in high summer."


    Looking mildly irritated at the interruption, she continued, "Right... For a moment I thought you were torturing him for information or preparing him for a special dinner."


    Faking offense, Morrel responded, "Any other child not of the Green Sea could only pray in vain to receive such kindness from me. Besides, only a heart matron and her honored guests could enjoy such a carefully prepared main course. Even then, only on Longest Day. My tribe''s matron was fond of Domain soldiers as fresh from the battlefield as possible... Our boy here was born on Longest Night, if memory serves. No one would eat him on such a special occasion for fear it would bring winter to the Vale. Ha!"


    Droya and Orison both hid a cringe as she changed topic. "At any rate, I figure you earned a little retribution after my little cub spent hours drumming those tattoos back on your face."


    Nodding his thanks to Orison and glancing at the letter in Droya''s hand, Morrel finished, "Nonsense. I''m endlessly grateful. And with the healing, I only had partial paralysis for two days. The lines were preserved passably well and that''s what matters...But, by your leave, I should be off to other things so the two of you can address yours."


    Waving the official looking envelope in her hand, Droya said, "Another letter has arrived. Since it''s getting late, I''ve invited the courier to stay, as you''ve so kindly pointed out I''m obligated to. Read it together?"


    Orison said dryly, "Oh goody. After the last one required us to send signed copies of our marriage and adoption registrations to buy them time to plot, suuurely this must be GOOD news... At least it''s not another letter from that psycho son of a cultist.


    "Honestly, acting as if he was glad his father was dead and four slaves lighter. Eagerly anticipating the day of my majority, assured we will become the fastest of friends after you refused his request to pay visit? That was after, what was it? Oh, paying a sketch artist to ''capture'' my likeness and sending me a magicked copy praising my present and future comeliness. As if he could convince me he''d have the, um, jewels to send an assassin. Make no mistake, momma Yaya. I won''t let my guard down but I''m more worried about that artist than I am him, all set up in the village square like he owned the place. I didn''t even see him look at me once!"


    Giving Orison a mysterious and knowing look, Droya said, "There''s plenty to be worried about but I really don''t think... That''s not important. Are you going to read this or am I?"


    Orison sighed and said, "You might as well. It''ll keep my hands free to make rude gestures at the air while you''re too distracted to notice."


    With a little reluctance and slightly trembling hands, making Orison silently curse himself for being insensitive, Droya read, "It is with heavy h-hearts we bear news from the, from the Keeper at the Hall of the Valiant..."


    As Orison reached for Droya to guide her to a chair, he asked, "We don''t need to finish it now. Mom, maybe-"


    She gently but firmly grabbed the hand reaching for her shoulder and shoved the letter into it. Wiping her eyes once she said, "I''ve had time to prepare. This is important. Just read it for now and I''ll be back in a moment."


    Against the tide of rising guilt, Orison reminded himself that none of this was his fault. Figuring that the inevitable anger he''d have after getting to the relevant parts of the letter, would at least keep him distracted and thinking safer thoughts, he kept reading. By the time he had read through it for the third time to make sure he didn''t miss any important details, Droya returned.


    Upon seeing her red eyed but stoic figure, Orison felt like throwing caution to the wind and explaining everything to her as best he could in what he hoped was a way she could understand. He tried but couldn''t utter a word. He realized, at that moment, he too had been affected by the process to ''become authentic''. The cold chills he occasionally experienced when skirting modern concepts wasn''t a coincidence or some symptom of PTSD. It was a warning or more like a shock from bumping against a law of existence or so he figured.


    After wordlessly staring at each other for an uncomfortable period of time, Droya assured she was ''ready as she would ever be'', unaware of Orison''s own horrific revelation. Packing away those thoughts and feelings for the time being, Orison shook himself loose in a comical display that earned a weak chuckle from Droya.


    Orison read the letter aloud then began to explain, "This is a work in progress inside my head so I need to get it all out first, then we discuss?"


    Droya took a deep breath and slowly exhaled then said, "I''ve grown accustomed to your thinking process by now, little cub. I''m more inclined to listen than talk at the moment anyway. From the sound of it, we have some time to... work out the details."


    Orison began, "I won''t harp on the first part. The way they worded it made it seem like he might wander out of the land of souls someday but the rest of the letter shows where they actually stand on the issue. We grieve and move on. If for some reason he does return it will be a happy, if awkward day and he''ll just have to understand."


    Droya cut in to say, "My thoughts and heart are my problem to solve, sweetling. I''ll get where I need to be in due time."


    Orison gave her an unsurprised look of tolerant exasperation and continued, "As for father''s first adopted orphan, this Venito Arentus boy, he''s a mushroom. That means he was kept in the dark and fed bulls-, er, dung. The war leader house that took him in and sat on him until we stepped forward has obvious ulterior motives."


    For the first time since their talk in the tavern, Orison lied to Droya because he had no choice. Even if he could, it would be awkward saying he knew the child''s backstory from a game. " I know Venito from the orphanage, though I doubt he''ll remember me. If I recall correctly, he confused father for a person from a certain group of people which I cannot name or openly speak of, ever. Please believe me when I say I would if I could... Give me a moment to get this organized in my head. I don''t want to get any of it wrong."


    Droya nodded and said, "Take all the time that you need. I''m not going anywhere."

 6 OEW

    Playing with the ring on his finger, a habit he subconsciously picked up from Droya, Orison resumed his explanation. "Father and I had some conversation on our way back from the orphanage. Most of what I say is filling in the blanks but I''ll keep it to the parts I''m most sure of... On a whim but more likely out of pity, Father eased the boy''s suffering through unsavory means. I don''t feel comfortable with saying more on that matter but it probably stuck with him. Father cared for Venito and his consideration for a Northlander wife was based more on giving the boy advantages in society. He was in a bad way when he couldn''t find my brother but I don''t think he considered much about the woman, at least not to me.


    "The whole incident left a sour impression of his homeland. I''m fairly certain that, had he succeeded in his last endeavor, he planned on taking his retirement in the Empire and letting Venito hold his Northland titles posthumously... He probably meant all the best when he married you and adopted me but I think that we were a desperate attempt to leave behind a legacy before he went to finish things."


    Seeing Droya working herself up for a speech Orison would absolutely despise listening to, he cut her off. "I don''t say that to discount the man''s honest feelings. I say it to illustrate that in his desire to have something meaningful to fight for, he was not as clearheaded and thoughtful as he could- No, should have been. I have every intention of being dutiful to his memory as his son and your feelings are your own. No more need be said."


    Droya''s eyes were tight as she said, "Alright but you will give me a chance to have my say on what I believe his thoughts and feelings were, yes?"


    Orison nodded and continued, "Yes. If it''s important to you, I will. For now, let''s get to the meat and potatoes of this letter... Despite how his name sounds, Venito is a Northlander, he''s older and he''s been relinquished to Lyra, Father''s band marshal. That means all of Whiteriver is on his side unquestioningly. Since you are not a Northlander or the mother by blood of a Northlander''s child, I''m the only one who will be able to speak for us, both before the feudal lord of Whiteriver and the High King''s Court, if it becomes necessary. That''s, oddly enough, a good thing bec- BECAUSE...


    "Sorry, and thank you... If they thought the opposition that they were facing was more formidable than a ten year old boy with no formal education we might not even get a chance to reach Whiteriver. The honor band that''s coming to escort us there would likely have an accident on the way. That''s still a possibility we should prepare ourselves for."


    Droya blurted out, "We could just not go. We could gather up our valuables and use my father''s old merchant connections to flee south."


    Orison sighed and said, "Oh how I wish. You could. You can... Mom, you can if you want to."


    Looking shocked and hurt, she said, "I couldn''t leave you here."


    Smiling sadly, Orison explained, "Being the son of a war leader means I have the right to speak in even the highest court in the land, even call for an arbitration from the High King himself once in my lifetime. But because I''m not a Northlander, running away from the summons of a feudal lord would make me a criminal. And since they can, I almost guarantee the charge will be treason. Any hope of getting help from the Empire goes out the window because I''d become a political untouchable. That would leave me unable to live with ease but in only the very worst places for the rest of my likely short life.


    "That''s why I won''t run. That''s why I definitely won''t run away with you but what I was trying to say is I''d understand if you did. You''ve been good to me. I don''t want to see you get hurt and I''m about to potentially be in a lot of danger."


    Droya started to work herself up for another long speech which Orison postponed by saying, "Remember when you told me that I need to know how to ease the tension when the world looks dark? Well, someone''s tapping our strings. Let''s go fishing on the lake in the morning since Rithus went through all the trouble to renovate that boat. I''m just asking you to hold and organize whatever you want to say for one night, okay? It''ll be my turn to listen."


    Later that night, with thoughts spinning through his head and unable to sleep, Orison was attempting to distract himself with cipher work. A habit which had devolved to theory craft for it''s own sake by that point.


    A sudden bout of dizziness attacked him for a brief moment before a soothing sensation ran through him from his ring. Head clearing, he still pretended to be delirious as a shadowy figure finished opening the window and climbing in.


    While he frantically thought of the best way to murder or get away from the intruder, the dark figure whispered, "What is your name?"


    Guessing at the effect of whatever was used on him, he said trance-like at a conversational volume, "Orison Cantrip. Who are you, sir?" hoping someone might hear him.


    The figure chuckled and said, "Speak softer. It would be rude if you woke someone up. You don''t want to be rude do you?"


    Cursing inwardly, Orison replied, "Sometimes. Especially when someone is rude to me first."


    The figure froze for a moment on it''s decent into the chair that had never managed to find it''s way back out of his room. After a split second of indecision, the man finished sitting down and said, "Surprising how candid you are. Please don''t scream. I''m here to see if you know of the silence. If you do, I need to make sure you have kept it and are trustworthy enough to continue keeping it. I hope you are because I hate killing children. It gives me bad dreams."


    Before the figure could begin his interrogation, Orison interjected, "Has my brother inherited the mantle of silence?"


    A small amount of surprise leaked through the man''s voice as he said, "If you know enough to ask, you know enough not to. Why, do YOU want it?"


    Orison shook his head and the figure said, "Then that makes things easier."


    Interjecting again, Orison quickly said, "I''d rather inherit The Fool''s favor owed my father."


    Annoyed, the figure replied, "And there it went getting hard again."


    Orison took the initiative, hoping his guesses weren''t too far off. "Look, you know there''s a chance, however slight that may be, of The Fool listening right now. I don''t care what your leader''s plans are but there is only one obvious choice for me. My brother''s only road of safety is tied here in the Northlands. As for me? Forget safety. If anyone has their hooks in him, my only road of survival lies south."


    The figure asked, "Do you know what you want to do with that favor?"


    Orison had to think hard and fast on that one. Before he let too much time elapse, he said, "If I can manage to reach Whiteriver alive and my brother ends up being someone not set on seeing me burn, so to speak, I''ll probably pass it on to him along with a gift of goodwill I have prepared. If I die, so be it but if someone kills my mother, I don''t care about peons. I want the one who gave the order to die."


    The shadowy figure said, "I could pass on this gift to your brother. Perhaps it could help pave the way for you."


    Orison laughed weakly. "That sounds too much like a favor but if you''d like to do a personal one for my brother, you could pass a message."


    The figure slowly stood up as he said, "No promises, since it isn''t a favor for you but it does no harm to hear you out."


    Orison said, "Tell my brother to give me a chance. I won''t disappoint him."


    The figure made his way to the window before he stopped after the sound of a tightening string reached his ear from the doorway. Standing a bit too far from Orison or the window to easily reach either, he instead said, "How is that a favor to your brother?"


    Orison replied blandly, "There''s no way to answer that question without sounding like an egoist. Suffice it to say I wholeheartedly believe it to be true... It''s alright Morrel. You can let him go. He''s a friend." In Orison''s mind there was only one person in the house who potentially had the ability to possibly resist being drugged but had the discipline to allow Orison a chance to dig for information.


    Morrel only slightly pointed the arrow downward as he finished walking into the room and said, "Friends don''t visit from windows much. Maybe lovers but not friends."


    By the time Morrel was done talking the figure had vanished into the night. And since he was too wound up to sleep, Orison sat up with Morrel for awhile discussing plans and ways to liquidate assets within the house and property that likely would not belong to him soon.


    ***


    Morning came far too early for Orison as Droya dragged him out of bed and ushered him through the morning routine. With the urgency she was attacking their boating, Droya had a great deal to say or she was aware of the time crunch they were in and wanted to return to preparations as soon as possible. Knowing Droya as Orison believed he did, he thought that both were likely along with other motivations he probably hadn''t even thought of. If it wasn''t for fear of contradicting herself, she would have likely canceled it altogether.


    Surprisingly, once they were on the lake and the manic energy she was exhibiting dissipated some, she managed to ratchet down enough to benefit from the forceful relaxation. Or so she claimed. Whatever the reason, after she started talking it was like a floodgate had been opened on her heart and mind. Orison speculated that whatever censored and heavily edited version of her thoughts and feelings she had planned on sharing was forgotten along the way. As hard as she tried to be all things for Orison, she was still a woman of less than thirty years that lacked a proper confidant.


    Trying hard to disassociate the hero of this world and his character in the game, Orison still couldn''t avoid a crushing guilt for the hurt this woman endured. That despite the anxiety and responsibilities she was saddled with she still thought so well and highly of the hero, only made Orison feel worse. To dispel these wretched feelings as Droya cried her grief into arms and a chest that weren''t quite big enough to properly hold her, he vowed to himself to repay her for every drop of misery she spilled.


    Erasing the last bit of hesitation and awkwardness in his heart, he let her in and declared to himself that as long as she wanted to be called Mamma Yaya then that''s exactly who she would be. If he should lose her or she walked away one day, then the resulting pain would only be what he owed her. The soul of child and man that moved ever closer to becoming one being were completely in sync on this one thought; After feeling like you''ve lost everything, loving someone was a terrifying thing but Droya was worth it... Even if she was a bit of a nagging control freak.


    After testing around the edges of his secrets, Orison discovered that he could tell Droya about his ''inventory space'' as long as he referred to it as an innate magic. He couldn''t feel more glad, however, that he was extremely conservative about what he could easily hold as Droya began optimizing it''s usage to carry their valuables. Despite the annoyance and pitiful amount of personal weight use that she grudgingly allowed of his perceived limits, he was touched that she entrusted nearly all of the most valuable things to him, including her mother''s best jewelry she inherited. Though they only compared to other possible choices more in sentiment than actual value, the implications hidden within the act of trust made it impossible for Orison not to agree.


    Over the next few days, Orison had never been so happy to be overlooked as Morrel and Droya took the liquidation plan in hand and ran with it. Aside from the prospecting team that showed up on the second day after the morning on the lake, which made the remaining days a lot noisier as they began mining the iron deposit behind the house, he was barely interrupted while pouring over the remaining books he had yet to read. Inevitably, they too were packed away and shipped to a merchant warehouse with many other vital possessions. Still, there were many furnishings left within the house as Droya pointed out that an empty one would raise questions best left unasked.


    On the last day before the honor band was scheduled to show, a relieved and more relaxed Morrel returned from the nearby village after getting Rithus squared away in a nice cottage just inside the wall. Orison had always wondered about the nature of the closeness between the two ex-slaves but was too polite to ask. It seemed his guess had been way off when he overheard a snip of conversation between Morrel and Droya where the wood elf referred to the nearly venerable Marshlander as ''the boy''. Orison had forgotten that elves live a good deal longer than the other races so it wasn''t surprising that Morrel might have had a soft spot for the reptile man after having watched him grow within their mutual captivity.


    Orison eavesdropped as the conversation continued.


    Droya said, "I would feel a great deal braver about all of this if I knew you were coming along but Orison insists that having a fair folk in his group would make things harder on him at the inheritance arbitration, especially one who served in a Domain household, but I''m not convinced. Surely the added safety would be worth what little trouble your presence might cause."


    Morrel slowly shook his head while he said, "It''s only been a few years since the averted civil war. Northlanders are fairly tolerant on the surface but their grudges run deep. It doesn''t help that Empire and Domain settlements still dot the landscape where feudal lords lined their pockets for land rights.


    "It''s hard to say if your boy is right or wrong but you''ll have me in the shadows here until you leave. There''s plenty of tree cover between here and a full day out too, if your honor guard isn''t feeling... honorable enough. It won''t be too late to change plans then. In truth, I feel ill at ease leaving the little tadpole alone for so long and more so at trusting his well being to a merchant group when it''s time to rejoin you wherever Orison''s path leads next.


    "Pity we didn''t have the fortune to run into any traveling mercenaries. By reputation, they''re loyal enough when the coin''s good. Keep your eyes sharp for such an opportunity if one arises. Some hired Northlander muscle would see you safer than an old tree strider like me where you''re going anyway."


    Droya sighed and said wistfully, "I''d still feel more secure with you watching over us than a complete stranger, no matter how ''more appropriate'' they are... I know I''ve asked a dozen times but any more advice?"


    Morrel chuckled and said, "I''ve shared all I can but if you absolutely must hear something I haven''t yet said, make sure that your boy does his pole bridging barefoot, or at least without those damn boots on. He knows why... Tell him he can''t train his endurance properly if he cheats. Oh, and make sure he uses the candle. I don''t know why he whines so much about a blister on his butt when he loses concentration. I nearly lost count of how many times I almost lost my virtue to a piece of sharpened bamboo when I did that training."


    Orison muttered to himself, "I suppose he walked through six feet of snow up-hill both ways on his ten miles to school when he was my age."


    Morrel turned towards the corner Orison was hiding behind and delivered deadpan, "Nonsense, it doesn''t snow in the vale. I swam and the day''s training camp was never closer than twenty. The slowest had to ferry the fastest home on his back. And let me tell you, that made the rapids tricky."


    Despite thinking to the contrary, Orison had no trouble sleeping through the night. All the last minute preparations and planning may not have worn him out physically but mentally he had been exhausted. Never the less, when Morrel had tapped him awake in pre-dawn light to let him know that the honor band had decided to show up a bit earlier than what was considered respectable, he was ready to go. Standing by the front door with his mother, their travel bags neatly arranged to the side, it was the band that was taken by surprise counter their band marshal''s obvious intentions.


    Seeing the first light of the sun glinting of the band scout''s helmet as he bounded ahead for the last few thousand feet, Droya said nervously, "I thought you said not to get a wagon, that we would have our transportation provided to us? Aside from the horse under their leader and the two other horses pulling a supply cart, I see no other transportation."


    Orison replied darkly, "I said we had to use the transportation provided us or risk slighting the band. And that''s not a supply cart. Technically it''s a prisoner cart but if it had chains or manacles in it, Morrel would have said something. Likely, the idea is to lead us into Whitewater disgracefully. Honestly, I couldn''t be happier though. The more petty crap like this they try to pull the less likely they''re planning something worse... Get your game face on, mom. It''s time to say hello."

 7 OEW

    As they had discussed, Orison let Droya handle the greetings while he took in the body language and disposition of the band marshal and his men. It behooved him more to appear as much the clueless ten year old they thought him to be. But as the conversation and preparation to leave progressed, it became obvious that of the eight honor guard, one soldier and the band marshal himself weren''t content with just being cold and surly.


    When the band marshal ordered the two guards who would stay behind to watch the house, to go through their bags and ''take stock of the house for it''s new owner to ensure nothing was taken that shouldn''t be'', Orison choked down the indignation. He had already anticipated that they would but hadn''t expected to have it tactlessly thrown in his and his mother''s faces so blatantly. The ''watch it fur ball'' muttered by the solder tossing the pawed through travel bags sloppily on the cart didn''t escape Orison''s notice either. He just silently promised to find a way to give that particular soldier hell on the road.


    Once it was time to leave, the same soldier who had slurred Droya earlier was about to lay his hands on her, presumably to manhandle her on to the cart. Seeing that the band marshal wasn''t exactly happy about it but also wasn''t going to do anything to stop it, Orison came to a rage fueled revelation. If he played meek child all the way to Whiteriver, him and his mother would end up arriving there little more than the disgraced prisoners they were being shamed to look like.


    Orison glared at the offending soldier and shouted, "Stop right f***ing there! This is a f***ing honor guard or did you forget what the first part of that title means?"


    Droya, more on reflex than actual disapproval in her jarred state, shrilled nervously, "Orison, watch your mouth!"


    Orison also reflexively responded, "Sorry, mom." That caused all the men aside from the cursed soldier and the marshal to chuckle, or in one soldier''s case, to outright laugh, making Orison''s ears feel like they were on fire.


    With a ''cut it out'' motion at the angry soldier, the marshal turned to Orison and said dryly, "Do you refuse the escort of this honor band, Orison second son?"


    Orison took a deep breath and replied as calmly as he could, "No I don''t but don''t sit there and pretend a prison cart is proper and don''t pretend not to see one of your soldiers try to treat my mother like she is one. Either be an honor band marshal or drop the pretense so I can have Lyra carve you up for slighting her oath bound leader''s widow and son. She might not do it for me but she''d do it for him."


    Everything slowed down under the rush of adrenaline Orison felt when the angry soldier lunged for Droya with his side dagger drawn. In that moment, Orison processed that the man wasn''t going to threaten her, he was going to try to kill her. In the back of his mind he registered that no one was coming for him. In fact, one of the solders was reaching for the angry one in what would be a failed attempt to stop the dagger before it could swipe at her neck.


    Droya was no slouch. She was already turning to try and block the weapon but she had been taken too off guard. Neither was Morrel but his vantage point in the trees was blocked by the cart. Even Orison himself only had a partial view of what was happening because as Droya turned, her body was eclipsing his line of sight on her assailant.


    Orison''s subconscious was feeding him all these scraps of information faster than lightning strikes and along with them were two pieces of memory catalyzing a reflex reaction decision that he already was performing without even realizing what it was exactly before he had finished it. Two conjoined souls and an overclocked mind pulled off a perfect harmony of magic and muscle. An ethereal battleaxe had no sooner appeared in Orison''s hand before it was flung with all the strength, speed and coordination his body could produce.


    The battleaxe should have dissipated before it could reach it''s target but the torn ligament in Orison''s right shoulder bore evidence that the axe was justified in reaching beyond his previous best of twenty feet to clear an extra seven. It should have torn through Droya''s shoulder at the base of her neck, knocking it off course and glancing the soldier''s armor but the second alien insight granted by Changing Winds remained intact within Orison''s mind. The magic of the axe might have been keyed to recognize the difference between companion and enemy as it buried itself in the target''s face, but it shouldn''t have stopped the last living thought of the dying soldier from finishing the slash of the dagger across Droya''s throat. Fortunately, Orison''s nearly impossible subconscious calculation took into consideration the last remaining bug in the axe''s spell model that caused it to burst with mild force when it dissipated. That force was just enough to make the dagger deviate from a sliced juggler vein to a scratch just deep enough to draw a single small welling bead of blood hidden by her black fur.


    All eyes were on the split-faced soldier as he stumbled one step back before falling like a chopped tree. A few seconds later, all eyes were on Orison as the boy climbed onto the cart and sat on the bench to better hide the sudden weakness in his legs.


    Allowing the necklace hidden underneath his robe to begin the process of healing the multitude of self inflicted harms, Orison addressed his captivated audience while he tried with all his might to keep his voice from trembling. "Contrary to what you may have been told or personally believe, I have no intention of trying to take anything that rightfully belongs to my brother. I''m not suicidal enough to covet Northland titles and property in the face of a rightful inheritor. What I do want is to make sure no greedy pig is trying to steal it. What I do want is justice if it has been, complete with that pig''s blood used to water the flowers of my father''s memorial which is no doubt being erected even as we speak. For the sake of my mother, I want a respectable portion of my father''s financial assets so that hopefully, once I claim the Empire holdings my brother cannot since he will be inheriting the Northland titles, my mother and I won''t arrive there little better than beggars. Now you know the extent of my dastardly plan. Are you F***ING SATISFIED!?"


    As Droya stepped into the cart to hold Orison as if she was trying to hide him from all the ugliness in the world, the solders milled around the dead body while the marshal tried to figure out what to do with it.


    Seeing the marshal''s indecision and guessing about what could be causing it, Orison said, "A soldier died protecting what he believed in. I may wish he was being tortured in the deepest abyss and decried from the Brow of the World for the worthless trash he is to me for trying to harm my mother but I''ve no quarrel with his family or the rest of you as long as we can treat each other with due respect from here on out. If the price of peace is keeping our mouths shut about what happened and allowing you to spin his death into something a little less tarnishing, then so be it."


    Orison noticed after his declaration that two soldiers trudged back to the house looking relieved and the remaining four soldiers of the band seemed a great deal less tense. The band marshal being no less dour was understandable. He was going to be the unlucky fellow that had to fabricate a story close enough to the truth that it wasn''t technically a lie but far enough away it didn''t ruin his and his soldiers'' reputations.


    Feeling drained and aching from adrenaline backlash, Orison was more than happy to let Droya take charge of the situation after making sure she was okay. His concern was appreciated but unnecessary as her brush with death only ''knocked the cobwebs loose'' according to her. She did seem more vital and alive after the incident. It probably helped that from her vantage point, the ghostly battleaxe was just a blue flash in front of her rather than a grim reaper that looked like it was going to take her life instead.


    On the road, while Droya was smoothing things over and getting filled in on the possible reasons the soldier attacked her, Orison found himself distracted by an unfamiliar sensation coming from inside his space. It had been there since he had killed the soldier but it took some time and breakfast to calm the tremors and strained muscles enough to notice it. Delving inward, he discovered that he could ''see'' inside unlike before. It didn''t take long for him to realize he shouldn''t focus too much on the space itself, especially while observing an object. Time and distance within seemed far more subjective than objective and focusing too much on it hurt his mind.


    Clearing random thoughts, Orison tracked down the source of the unknown feeling. Buried deep within his space lay a crystallizing wisp of spirit. As he observed, a portion was absorbed by the space itself. Following the process of that absorption, infinitesimal lattices where forming links with his body and magic source, bolstering them. He realized the one wisp would not do much but if there were thousands of them, his intuition supplied, he could become powerful. If there were millions? Godlike. Billions? Beyond limitation.


    Excitement building, Orison returned to the wisp to learn more about it only to see a black crystal remained. For a split second, Orison stared at the crystal in confusion before a sudden dread wiped away his excitement as if it had never existed. Although it wasn''t an exact match, game lore and arcane knowledge supplied an answer. It was a black soul gem.


    The very un-game-like world around him was filled with little disappointments when compared with its virtual partner. Alchemy was complex and dangerous. Learning skills and spells was no less arduous or difficult when compared with higher education or martial arts practice on Earth. When it came to enchanting, however, Orison was was equally disappointed and relieved.


    Much like in the game, eternium shards were very rare and mages used them for their most important works such as prolonging their life or empowering an artifact that represented their life''s work. Nearly every mage learned the art of enchantment at some point but usually only made a small handful of the more mundane and practical ones over the course of their studies and Orison knew why. An enchantment needed a portion of a soul for the magic matrix within to ''live'' becoming a more permanent presence in the world. The more powerful the enchantment, the larger the amount of soul needed to fix it into a ''living magic'' state.


    Though Orison had been disappointed that soul gems seemingly didn''t exist and that enchanted items not made from eternium crystals weren''t that extraordinary, he was relieved that the secrets to creating them were delegated to the precious shards or empowering from ones own spiritual essence. After he had been here long enough for the realities of this world to solidify and expand his horizons beyond the skill books and alien blessings in his brain, his relief turned into pure thankfulness. Only the stronger supernatural creatures had spiritual essence attuned to enchantments with the same ease and purity as humans. Who would hunt for dryads or greater undead when there were disadvantaged folk everywhere that wouldn''t particularly be missed, such as the local orphanage if a beggar couldn''t be found? Orison hoped it would be most mages but he far from believed it.


    There was no doubt that powerful mages in this world may know such a dark secret but if they did, they were keeping it to themselves which left Orison to work out the moral ambiguities for himself. Perhaps it was because of his own experiences within the spiritual realm but he possessed a small amount of sympathy for the black crystal that represented what was left of a potentially immortal soul, in theory. Orison realized that much of his pondering was only theory with little evidence for any of his conclusions so he just decided to stick with what felt right. The idea of justified killing in self-defense or in defense of others didn''t feel wrong or even bad but harvesting their soul? It seemed like a case by case kinda thing but real life wasn''t usually kind enough to give a person time for complicated judgment calls. Killing an insulting asshole or emotionally neutral obstacle to a needful goal was already a slippery gray-scale. Acting the vigilante didn''t seem like too bad an option to Orison but the boundaries on who deserved to just die and who deserved no spiritual second chances, whatever they may be, was very unclear to him.


    The why he could and the when/if he should might be unclear but the how, he wasn''t too far from cornering. When he had indirectly killed the crazy elf, he didn''t even have his space but it likely wouldn''t have mattered since the abyss lord was the one who did the deed. When he went hunting with Morrel, neither bow nor dagger elicited a response but the woodland creatures may not have had enough juice to draw his attention. In this instance, he had used his bound battleaxe. Even in the game there was a conjuring specialty that could explain how a bound weapon could do it but he was no where near the proficiency necessary to qualify.


    As with most mysterious matters Orison encountered in recent days, his best deduction came from game cues and real world knowledge combined. Until he set it in stone with a little practical experimentation, he believed it to be a combination of bound weapon model, the inherent connection a mage has with their magic and the basic/mysterious functions of his space. If true, soulless constructs like Stupid Horse and elemental constructs could do the same for him, in theory.


    Inspired, Orison asked Droya''s permission to buy some ''fresh meat'' from the farmhouse they were approaching. After pointing out that he had a magic theory to test and it doubled as a way to sweeten their escorts disposition without seeming like a bribe, she agreed. The snag ended up coming from the band marshal who was insistent on continuing to their first camp spot. After protesting loudly about how his desire for a hearty supper only made the trip more enjoyable for everyone and would hardly delay them any significant amount of time, the marshal conceded, more to his own men''s pressure than Orison''s entreaties.


    A dead pig and a petty soul gem later, the boy had confirmed his suspicions. More so, Orison had discovered that soul essence at this low of a quality even drew some of the lattice the first soul had created back out to aid the crystallization resulting in a net loss rather than a gain. He bitterly vowed never to kill helpless woodland creatures or farm animals with magic again, unless he was starving.


    The most good natured of the band, a man named Thorrinson, sat beside Orison by the fire and said, "I finally got a good look at your head splitter when you butchered that pig for your mom. Where''d you pick up that trick?... If you''d rather not say-"


    Orison snapped out of his thoughts and after he registered the question, he said, "Found it in the journal of the elf cultist I killed. It was a buggy piece of crap but I have it ironed out mostly. The rest is locked away under a cipher I couldn''t figure out."


    Thorrinson nodded sagely and said, "Ran into something like that a few years back. Since I had a touch of the gift myself, or so ma said, I tried learning it. I fear it was the same as yours. First spell was fine, makes a bit of water. But the second one, it was a mess. Couldn''t make heads or tails of it. As for the rest? It was gibberish except for a couple pictures...


    "Found a mage who liked trying to figure that kind of stuff out and traded him for a mending spell and a bit of gold. He told me if it took more than a month or two to figure the spell he gave me out, I should stick to soldering. Being as I was past my mid twenties at the time, I think he meant it kindly. It took me four but I wasn''t bent on it. Still, with those two I''ve saved a fortune in equipment repairs...and the runs."


    Orison said, "Trade you my Degree Shift for your mending spell. It can help you light a fire or cool down a drink but I think its main purpose is to be a cleaning spell. It does that by..."


    Thorrinson waited for Orison to finish but seeing the kid seemed distracted, he said, "Deal. I''ll even throw in the water one being as you''re bright and all. You might be a big shot mage in the future and I can tell my grand-kids I traded spells with you."


    Orison nodded absentmindedly as he mumbled, "Simple spell, junk spell and then a ciphered section..." Unbeknownst to Orison, a constellation briefly twinkled a little brighter in the night sky.


    He jumped up and said excitedly to Thorrinson, "Simple, Junk and Cipher! It''s the key, the lock and the treasure, man! Tell me. Did your dead mage happen to be a Dominion twat too?"


    From the tent behind them, Droya said, "I let it slide earlier but one more vulgarity and I''ll be washing your mouth with soap, your soap."


    Orison groaned, "You only let me bring the one bar!"


    She purred menacingly, "Then you best keep your mouth clean so you can use it on the rest of you."


    Underneath the night sky, dimly lit by the campfire, the face of the band marshal cracked a smile that carried a hint of sad nostalgia as the rest of his men chuckled.

 8 OEW

    Over the next three days, Orison established a new routine he planned to keep on the road. In the mornings he would do Morrel''s self torture exercises which he practiced to the letter out of a superstitious fear the middle aged wood elf would find out. Orison caught on that the training he was doing had some pretty amazing effects and he didn''t want to lose it by breaking Morrel''s only rule. Do as he said or do it without him. Whatever the secrets hidden within it, the training kept the old elf as spry and vivacious in the last third of his life as most were in their first third. That was with the man having some form of allergy to vegetables which apparently wasn''t an actual wood elf thing.


    At midday, while the horses were catching a breather, Orison would spend a little time knocking the dust off his pitiful sword and board skills. He didn''t have much talent at it but it did get him a little experience facing those who were. Besides, since the soldiers and even the band marshal seemed to take some enjoyment from knocking him on his butt, easing the edge of bad feelings from their band member''s death, it was a win-win in Orison''s book.


    In the evenings he wasn''t quite as organized. The first night he wrote out the model with notes for Degree Shift and Candle Flame before spending a meager hour translating the cracked cipher, a cipher type that was apparently quite commonly used by Dominion mages for a time. The next night, he focused entirely on translating until Thorrinson handed him two shakily drawn models filled with mistakes of a sloppy scribing nature, much easier to fix than misplaced model sections like the axe was.


    On the third night, he rolled the idea back and forth a few times before throwing a bit of caution to the wind and created a scroll of Summon Stupid Horse. Fortunately, he only screwed up the first time and succeeded the second leaving just enough imbued ink for a third. The fourth morning saw him napping on the cart until nearly midday due to underestimating the time and energy required, especially when the first attempt was a waste.


    ***


    In theory, scroll making and enchanting are fundamentally the same. In reality they''re significantly different, mostly due to equipment and materials needed. Enchantments required a special type of work bench capable of holding a model in stasis while being filled with spirit essence to make it alive and grant it longevity with the final step of transfixing the model onto a compatible item completing the work. Scroll making benefited from having the workbench but it wasn''t necessary as long as the mage in question was familiar enough with the spell to line up the whole model with what they had drawn on the scroll in one go. A scroll also needed spirit essence but only enough to transfix the magic model to it''s written counterpart.


    There was no doubt that having a workbench hold the model while the mage traced it onto a scroll not only almost guaranteed it would fix properly, it would take a lot less time and effort. Orison, luckily, had a cheat. Spirit essence and magic had a slightly magnetic and harmonizing effect on one another. By grinding up the petty soul gem and mixing it into his ink instead of using magic compatible metal or gem dust, the ink would auto-correct. Intentionally miscasting the spell at the scroll by not allowing the model to charge fully could even correct large mistakes. The caveat of this method, however, required the mage to keep his focal and casting point at the same spot for all casts.


    Being relatively experienced in theory but a beginner in practice, Orison would obviously need a lot of auto-correcting which is where he screwed up. While waiting for his magic to recharge, he lost his focal point and on his next intentional miscast, skewed and blurred his model beyond repair. Sheepishly, he took out a grease pencil and drew a tiny dot on the next scroll then started again.


    ***


    During the midday break, Orison sought out Thorrinson and handed him the scroll. While the man looked at it in confusion, Orison brought out Stupid Horse and explained all the key words, as well as warning about the sluggish steering.


    Thorrinson tried to hand it back after Orison dismounted while he said, "I can''t accept this. A trade was fine but this could be seen as bribery. Even if I was off duty I couldn''t accept this. It would easily sell for fifty gold maybe more... I don''t even know how much its worth but it can''t be lower than fifty."


    Orison shook his head and said, "Whether you meant to or not, you gave me the key to unlocking my dead elf''s journal when you told me about yours. All said and done you''d be fairly generous to call us even."


    Seeing Thorrinson was going to be stubborn about it, Orison took the issue before the marshal and his mother. After explaining the whole thing, the marshal gave grudging permission while Droya praised Orison for being fair in his dealings, expressing a bit of disappointment over not getting one first. Orison explained that he only wanted to pay off his debts before making presents and that she was the very first one he planned on making one for.


    Half annoyed and half amused, Orison spent the rest of the day getting interrupted from his spell model studying to hear some pearl of wisdom from one or another of the band. The band marshal looked upon it all smugly as if to say, ''that''s what you get''. Though the bulk of them were superstitious nonsense and funny anecdotes, some where genuinely useful. One or two might even save his life someday.


    Towards the end of the day, instead of setting up camp the band picked up pace a bit to reach their past midway journey point, a quaint village with a nice inn. As they neared town, Orison jumped out of the cart and summoned Stupid Horse, sidling up to the cart to let his mom on.


    The marshal asked, "Why didn''t you just ride it the whole time instead of bearing the indignity of riding in a prison cart?"


    "It''s hard to do a lot of things on horseback that are relatively easier on a benched cart," Orison said as he covertly pointed at the more prominent steel studs on his mother''s leather armor behind him.


    His eyes followed Orison''s finger to Droya''s well protected assets. With dawning realization and a slight blush mostly hidden by skirted helmet and well kept beard, he said, "Oh, I see. That''s understandable."


    Droya, who had long grown numb to the casual ogling of men, remained oblivious for once.


    The next hour was full of activity as the band marshal, Trygve, had the men unload everything in the cart except for the remains, into everyone''s respective rooms. Since Orison wasn''t the only one confused, he hoped it meant Trygve, whose name he finally managed to memorize, was trading out for more appropriate transportation.


    Once the marshal had returned, Orison grabbed an opportunity to speak with him when Droya went to relieve herself. "Uh, Marshal Trygve, are the server women here really friendly or..."


    The marshal flashed Orison his wedding ring and replied tactfully, "I''ve long since stopped actively noticing these things but at this Inn the girls open to easing a soldier''s loneliness tuck a red kerchief in their apron pocket, an unused white one means they''re looking for something more than coin. There used to be a blue one but it caused a lot of troubles."


    Orison didn''t rise to the bait of the blue kerchief which would end up turning into a tale that would last well past when his mom would be back. Instead he said, "I know that most of the stuff your solders told me was more to have fun at my expense than because they were seriously sniffing for a reward or something. Some of what they told me may not have had much value to them but it did to me."


    Trygve said, "I can''t stop what I don''t see but so we''re clear, I sure as the abyss won''t cover your tail if your mother comes to tan it. Also, Thorrinson might not turn down a friendly visitor but he''ll wish he had if his wife finds out and we''re close enough to Whitewater that she might."


    Dashing off, Orison managed to set up a pleasant surprise for the other three band members after a few embarrassing moments were the girls thought he was trying to climb the ladder to adulthood a little too early for them to be comfortable about. So the unsuspecting soldiers wouldn''t be completely blind-sided or mistake the girls'' intentions for visiting unsolicited, Orison asked them to relay a message. The pearls of wisdom given during the day have returned as a pearl of comfort at night.


    After ''tipping'' the girls generously from his personal fund, an open secret Droya let him keep, Orison returned to his seat and dug into his meal with zeal. Determined to make the most of their stay at an inn, he splurged for a hot bath then burned the midnight oil studying his new collection of models until Droya jokingly complained in the adjoining room that all his strange mutterings was giving her nightmares.


    By that point, Orison was perfectly fine with going to bed because he had just grasped the final mysteries of the first spell from the previously ciphered section of the journal. With the giddiness of a child at Christmas, Orison urged himself to sleep so the new day could come a little faster. After all, Fire Shot was not the kind of spell one could practice indoors.


    ***


    In the predawn glow, Orison woke up with a pep in his step that nothing to do with his boots but it was short lived as he realized that the inn had no place for him to practice. The morning servers were making their preparation and some of the merchants passing through had servants running errands.


    Orison thought, "Fine. Delay the pleasure and all that. We''ll be on the road soon enough."


    He slogged back to his room and did a set of light stretching before setting up his props for pole bridging. During the routine, a sliver of time left till the sun crested the horizon, one of the servers from the previous night slunk into his room and froze. Hand half-way to the bare table in his room, she turned and noticed the boy was not only up but doing some strange suspended stretch with a lit candle on a metal plate under him.


    Dividing a bit of his attention to the server he asked, "What are you doing?"


    In the surreal situation, the server said, "I, uh, don''t feel right taking your money. I was returning it."


    Orison wouldn''t believe such a statement under normal circumstances but the undeniable glitter of coins in her hand was hard to deny and there wasn''t anything aside from empty table where she was reaching.


    Dividing a little more attention, he took in the bit of dark circles under her eyes but lack of anything telling on the attire she was wearing aside from a bit of wet spot on her shoulder and said, "Comfort takes many different fo- erms... ngh... Damn candle..." He leaned forward until his hand touched the ground and dismounted his heels then continued as he stood up, "Keep the coins and consider this..."


    He took a bit of time to explain to her what a therapist, though he had to play loose and dirty with some concepts to shake off the cold chills, was and gave her some ideas of what she could say the next time she should encounter a similar situation.


    She looked at the boy pensively and said, "People can do that for a livelihood?"


    As he covertly healed the blister on his rear and cleaned the smudge off his training pants, Orison said, "Yes, as long as they have two qualities. They have to be a good listener and they have to be good at keeping secrets. It''s probably best to keep advice to a minimum but giving people some options they may not have thought of can be helpful if you''re confident they''re good. People like more options. Be open minded as you can be. Practice keeping a pleasant and caring face. The rest you can teach yourself with time and experience."


    She mulled over his words for a bit and said, "That''s specific. I can''t see anything wrong with what you said but why would people pay money for it? Well, besides those who don''t want to stand out when others are after the usual or someone''s treating, I mean."


    Orison, realizing he was being a little TOO out of character for his age, dialed back and said, "I just read about it but even a kid like me knows that when something hurts, talking about it makes things hurt less. Slap, like a yellow or orange kerchief next to the red and when someone asks what it means just say you''re a good listener who can keep their mouth shut and see how it goes."


    She nodded and was walking out of the room when she suddenly turned back around and said, "I hope you won''t say anything about the soldier I visited. Let them think we had a good time. If you get a chance to tell him in private, I''ve a shy friend who- What am I saying to a kid? I-Just let him know I''m here if he''s feeling lonely." She dashed away looking a little embarrassed.


    Less than two seconds later, one of the three honor band members he had yet to memorize the name of but wasn''t the one who spent the night with the server he was talking to, came in looking confused before giving the half dressed Orison a knowing leer and letting him know his new transportation was ready down stairs.


    Taking a quick moment to wipe down, Orison got dressed while the solder knocked on Droya''s door. While she went through her wake-up routine, Orison grabbed a quick bite and headed out of the inn, eager to get back on the road. He even lent a helping hand to load the covered wagon with cushioned seats to speed things along.


    By the time Droya had gotten down her breakfast and loaded up into the wagon, the soldier who served as the scout was returning to make report to Marshal Trygve. Upon seeing that particular soldier''s face, Orison suddenly realized why the server entrusted him to deliver her message. Who knows what time the poor sod had to pull himself together to get such a jump on everyone else.


    Not being one to miss an opportunity to kill three birds with one stone, Orison approached the marshal and asked if he could ride with the scout to get a feel for the position and expand his horizons some. While weighing the security risk and inconvenience, Trygve cleared it with Droya who hesitated for a moment, giving off all kinds of body language of wanting some heart to heart time with her son, before before they both temporarily gave in to the request. To sweeten the deal, Orison promised to keep Stupid Horse summoned so the marshal wouldn''t need to lend his to the scout.


    With warnings to listen, be mindful and return to the wagon immediately if asked to Orison and a few instructions to the mildly put out soldier, boy and band scout were slowly gaining distance in front of the rest. The relatively open area for miles in front of them made for great opportunities to pass a private message and practice magic on the road without spooking the flesh and blood horses behind them.


    In the beginning things were rather awkward since the scout wasn''t used to sharing a mount much less controlling a summoned one like Stupid horse. Orison wasn''t exactly used to having his back glued to another man''s chest either. However, after Orison vocalized his revelation that ''a padded leather chair back was a great deal more comfortable than a studded leather one topped with morning-star shoulder massagers'' and the scout got a handle of bow draw while guiding Stupid Horse, both of them were a great deal more at ease with each other.


    By the time they were getting close to their midday stop, the scout had opened up a bit and started sharing some pointers on horsemanship, tracking and game hunting with a bow. For his part, Orison shared some simple herbalism which the scout mostly knew about already but managed to learn a couple new ones and a good deal more uses. They even amused themselves a bit by the scout tossing some pebbles further up the road while Orison tried to hit them with Fire Shot until he almost set a brush fire.


    Figuring there would be no better time, Orison passed on the server''s message as much as memory and creative wording for tact would allow. The sudden stiff silence that followed prompted Orison to say, "I''m an orphan, right? Little over a week after I''m adopted, my father has to leave to do important things. A week after that, while my mom has to make a provisions trip into town I feel compelled to follow a firelight that''s a little too close to the house for comfort where I gotta kill for the fist time in my life or watch on as a Marshland girl gets her heart carved out. Yay... The very next morning, home invaders try to sack the house and I''m almost killed.


    "Skip forward a little shy of two months and I''m trying to hold my mom while she bawls her eyes out because the man she let herself fall in love with isn''t coming home. Jump forward a little more and I''m killing a man for the second time- the sec-"


    Orison took a moment to get his warbling voice back under control.

 9 OEW

    Orison took a deep breath and continued, "Skip forward a bit more and I had to kill a man for the second time in my life or I would have lost my mother. I don''t feel proud or happy about it. Every time I think about it I get scared to death because I was lucky. You might even call it blessed because if she had died I would be alone again."


    "Every day I feel closer and closer to the edge of a cliff that someone''s just going to decide to throw me off of because it''s just easier that way. Why? Because I don''t know how bad it''s going to be where we''re going but I know the chances of it being all good are so flush next to nothing you can''t tell the difference... I just want to be a kid, you know? But if I did that, just be a kid, I likely won''t get to live long enough to be an adult. I''d like to be one of those too someday.


    "I distract my self, keep myself busy so I don''t have to think about how I''m a twisted ball of fear and anxiety inside. I try to be brave for the woman who seems happy I call her Mamma Yaya so she can be strong for the boy whose happy she calls him, little cub and sweetling. I''m trying my hardest every day to make one more friend, grasp one more spell, get a little more skillful. I do it all for a small chance at happiness.


    "Maybe I read too much into what the server lady said but as one person the world doesn''t seem to want to be happy to another, maybe go see this lady''s friend, when you''re ready, because a small chance of happiness is better than nothing."


    A small hand with light callouses reached out to give a reassuring squeeze to a larger scarred one. Orison felt the tension drain from the frame behind him as the slightly trembling large hand flipped over and squeezed his hand back.


    The ensuing silence as they finished touring around the rest stop and returning to the others was only broken once long enough for the scout to say, "Since you have a hard time with my name, call me Gan. Some people I still miss used to call me that."


    Orison tried hard to focus on the possible opportunities his thinly veiled emotional manipulation attempt for another ally could bring Gan. He tried even harder to stop his mind from supplying all of the possible tragedies that surrounded small chances for happiness but failed. As he silently endured Droya''s awkward attempt to show support for his efforts to win over the honor band while giving an unneeded sex education/child and adult boundaries lecture, Orison looked for a way to pull out this additional growing thorn of guilt from his mind.


    Winding down, Droya finished what she had to say. "So, I know you''re a smart and hard-working boy who will pursue the meaningful things in life and not chase empty pleasures, yes? Good! And you know that true friendship and loyalty is bought with sincerity not sly gestures and flaunting your wealth, right?"


    Orison stopped numbly nodding his head. Suddenly inspired, he looked out the front of the wagon where Gan was saddling Trygve''s horse and said, "Sincerity! It''s so f- It''s so simple, I looked right over it... I''ll be right back, mom."


    Orison dashed out of the back of the wagon and ran over to Gan. Seeing the boy running over to him, the scout wearily and said, "You heard the marshal. Next part has rolling hills and I gotta be sharp. We aren''t expecting trouble but if there was-"


    Orison interrupted, "I know. I''m not here to make things hard on you or anything. I just forgot to tell you something and I want to say it while I can before I forget to or start second guessing myself...It probably won''t mean much to you, coming from a kid like me but wherever I am, you got a friend there and a place to be if you need it. That''s a plus one invitation, you know, for if you find so-"


    Seeing the solder who called him from the inn room approaching, Orison cut off the rest of what he was going to say and handed Gan a bandage wrap that hid a vial inside. Orison saw the scout frown in confusion when Gan tried to put the bandage in a belt pouch where the one that was used earlier in the day for a demonstration had been. Satisfied that Gan knew something was inside, Orison turned around and faced the approaching soldier.


    Orison hastily said, "Sorry about that. I''m heading back to the wagon."


    The band member smiled through his thick beard and said, "No worries. You got a good couple of hand and toe counts before Thorrinson''s finished his business with the bushes... I''m surprised you haven''t had your fill of this frosty mute yet." Turning to Gan, the man continued, "Got ten years on you, junior, and I don''t need a boy to finish the job for me. Did your dagger get rusty because you never use it or so-"


    Orison knew that the band member had misunderstood what had happened at the inn but he thought that he would be the target of the man''s well meant but harsh heckling. He was even happy about it because it would provide more opportunities to ingratiate himself with the soldier. With Gan being a thin skinned person with secrets to hide, however, Orison had no doubt that things would turn ugly quick.


    With a murmured prayer to all the social martyrs that came before him, Orison leered up at the solder with the cockiest Peter Pan pose he could make and said, " The nice lady you''re talking about left my room with dark circles under her eyes and a blush. Yours looked awfully well rested this morning. A little oil can knock the rust off, but a dagger that can''t hold an edge?... I think I picked up an herb or two that can help with that."


    The soldier turned from Gan to Orison with an edged smile and said, "Boy, your berries are so green they haven''t even fell in the basket and you''re already trying to take credit for another man''s hard work. See these scratches? You best save them herbs to put some grease in that little pencil nub of yours and..."


    With Orison succeeding in bringing the full force of the soldier''s cheerful fury onto himself, Gan finished adjusting the straps on the saddle and with a grateful nod at the boy, he took off. With the scout out of verbal harm''s way, Orison loaded back up into the wagon while quipping and parrying for all he was worth. Journey once again underway and back in Droya''s earshot, he started losing ground quick until Thorrinson and the other soldier joined in to muddy the waters.


    With a game of words occupying idle time, the hours flew by. Under the disapproving gazes of Droya and the marshal, the game steered into less controversial waters and continued with Droya as the unsurprising leader. Trygve was giving a particularly scathing retort about Thorrinson''s ''full moon'' being a lodestone for stinging insects but better than a skunk at driving all else away when he was cut off by the sound of a signal arrow. The shrill whistle flipped the honor band''s jovial mood into grim, murderous determination in an instant.


    A few quickly barked orders later and the rest of the band, save Thorrinson who was driving the wagon, rushed off to support Gan against whatever threat the scout had encountered. The ensuing eerie silence in the wagon was occasionally broken by Droya or Thorrinson adjusting an armor strap or doing test draws. For lack of anything better, Orison summoned Stupid Horse and readied his own short bow.


    Under the bloody light of the low hanging sun, Thorrinson said, "If what comes over that hill isn''t our friends, I want you to take your mom and go back to that last village and send message to Whiteriver. That right there in the corner''s my satchel. I''d be grateful if you''d stick it on your horse and give it to my wife and daughter."


    Before Orison could say anything, Droya said firmly, "If there''s three or less, we''re better off fighting with cover and advantage than running. If there''s more than that, there''s no point in you staying here to slow them down so you might as well stick it to your own horse and follow."


    A little frustrated at having his resolve to die for them questioned, Thorrinson said, "The horses are winded. Even if I had the time to-"


    Droya cut him off with, "You blockhead. Aren''t you still carrying that scroll my son gave you? Worst case, you''re better to us as a moving shield than a blade of grass that-"


    On instinct, Droya swung her dagger in a wild arc toward the sudden dip of weight at the back of the wagon. Confusion turned to horror on Orison''s face as a dagger appeared, dug into her shoulder a finger''s span from the spine at the base of her neck. Quickly following, a man materialized into view with Droya''s dagger buried in his left hand, inches from his throat. Orison had a moment to register the macabre waltz pose the two were locked in from her sudden twisting before he split the man''s head in half with a reflexively summoned axe.


    Sword drawn, Thorrinson jumped down from the driver''s bench and circled the wagon while Orison braced Droya to draw out the dagger. Her roar of pain eclipsed Thorrinson''s one of anger as he initiated an enemy out of Orison''s view. Orison nearly dropped the vial of healing potion he had began pouring into Droya''s wound when the canvas flared into angry flames.


    Orison passed the rest of the vial to Droya as he braced them behind a spare shield, assessing the situation through the quickly widening hole in the burning canvas. He had just enough time to register Thorrinson and the honor band soldier''s assailant before an arrow bloomed into existence in Thorrinson''s back. Seeing that the arrow wasn''t stuck in overly deep, Orison lobbed a fire shot into the black garbed assailant''s face, giving the band soldier a chance to adjust to the presence of an archer Orison didn''t have a sight on.


    Grabbing the shield with her good arm, Droya covered them as she eased them toward Stupid Horse who was standing next to the back of the wagon. Orison was able to see the very top of the archer''s head behind a boulder when they popped up to aim as Droya mounted behind Orison on the horse. From behind the shield that Droya held in front of him as she held on to his midsection, Orison lobbed a fire shot at the exposed head. It was a glancing blow off the top of the boulder but it managed to catch the archers hood and hair on fire.


    As Orison''s errant thought about pop stars and pop commercials formed in his mind, he felt Droya suddenly shove him off the horse into the grassy hillock beside them. Momentarily dazed, Orison barely registered a thud of impact into the ground and the heated air that billowed around Stupid Horse before the construct disappeared. Two more thumps and two more screams later, Orison''s eyes were able to focus enough to see a man in a red robe with gold embroidery on it.


    "If you were one of my apprentices, little worm, I would have taught you to never neglect the spaces above you. You can pity not having proper tutelage on your way to The Abyss. I was going to send you there quickly but for killing my student, I will make sure you and your two companions suffer greatly in your last moments of life," the resplendent hooded mage said as he gently touched ground in front of Orison.


    The area around the mage''s right hand glowed an ominous white with orange and red borders as he reached for the boy. The left hand, glowing a brilliant blue tinted white, seemed to be responsible for maintaining the envelope of force around him. It was the right one that reached towards Orison''s face as a weakly thrown dagger glanced off the radiance emanating from the murderous magic user.


    Looking away from the hand approaching his face, the heat already palpable against his skin, Orison saw Droya slump in despair on her badly burnt legs. Clutching a blistered hand to her chest, she let loose a keening wail.


    A primal rage bubbled up from Orison''s marrow and blood, slightly diminishing the magic heat and leaching away some of it''s potency into him. It was as if a feral beast, a manifestation of his pain and hatred barely contained within his skin, desired to rend and devour the mage before him. With a yell that nearly ruptured his vocal cords, Orison channeled all his available pool of magic to forcefully activate the kinetic model he could not control. It held for less than a tenth of a second before raw magic force exploded from it, squashing Orison mercilessly into the hillock and knocking the mage back while disrupting his field of force.


    Unable to temporarily force air back into his lungs but hearing the mage muttering something about ancestors around wet coughs, Orison ignored the black spots flashing in his vision as he pushed himself up and wobbled forward. Swinging his bound axe in a nearly blind panic, he heard a chilling cry among wet crunches. The ghostly visage that was forming collapsed and it''s ethereal wisp went to join it''s summoner''s in the darkest corner of Orison''s inner space.


    After his first weak whistle of a breath forced his lungs back open, Orison broke out into a coughing fit that caused him to black out long enough to fall back on his butt. The jolt of pain brought on from multiple hairline fractures in his chest and abused organs kept him from passing out, however. So crawling back onto his feet he assessed the area.


    In front of Orison, the mage''s face and chest were mangled by his wild swings but more crucially of note was the sword tip protruding from an area near the mages heart. With a quick glance over to see that the teary eyed Droya was well enough to be lapping up the remaining healing potion from the cracked vial in her hand, Orison irreverently knocked the mage''s corpse out of the way to find a badly burned Thorrinson beneath. Senseless and in unimaginable pain, the stubborn Northlander still refused to pass out.


    Under the impetus of the three newly acquired crystallizing souls within him, Orison guiltily opted to heal with magic as it trickled in instead of busting out another healing potion from his dwindling supply. No sooner did he have Droya and Thorrinson barely back on their feet with the worst of the burns taken care of before Gan came stumbling back leading a partially maimed horse with a corpse and a barely alive Trygve draped on it''s back.


    While Orison stabilized the band marshal and did what he could to reattach Trygve''s half sheared off hand that Gan thoughtfully retrieved somehow, Thorrinson asked, "Where''s Chuckles?"


    Gan''s pale face looked up somewhat vacantly and said, "They ate him. There were nine of them in all. Only four of them were alive, Ashlanders. The other five were... not alive. I- I managed to play dead until Trygve and the rest got there... I think they were planning on making me one of the others or I would have been eaten too, I think.


    "We managed to kill the controllers but not before losing one of our own. The marshal was hit with some kind of spell that nearly sucked all the life out of him too... Funny that I never knew his nickname was Chuckles but I instantly knew who you were- Anyway, after Marshal Trygve took the last controller down, er, Chuckles saw that the not alive ones were just milling around, looking confused. I think he planned on blowing off some of his anger from them killing his friend."


    Gan''s haunted eyes stared off into space for a moment before he shook himself out it. After taking a deep but shaky breath, he said, "As soon as he hit one of them, all five rushed at him and tore him apart. Whatever piece they managed to get their hands on, they started eating. While they were... It''s like they didn''t care I was there or maybe they didn''t know but I got the marshal and Hvass on the horse and made my way here... You know, I didn''t really like Hvass. Always jabbing at people''s sore spots but I didn''t want him to be eaten too."


    Thorrinson handed Gan his flask and said, "Take a swig and focus, man. They might come this way and we got a good lad and lady over there who we still need to get to Whiteriver... somehow." Thorrinson walked over to Orison and whispered, "The scout''s shook up bad. I know we''re leaning on you hard for someone we''re supposed to be taking care of but he could still be hurt in a dangerous way and you''re the only one I got to turn to. The uh, the horse too if you can."


    Looking up at Thorrinson''s guilt ridden and anxious face, Orison smiled weakly and said, "Trygve wasn''t nice until he was practically forced to be and here I am trying to save his hand on top of his life. Gan was actually nice to me. So, of course I''ll do what I can for him. No need to even ask. Now the horse... Just kidding. What''s a little animal doctoring between we, the fellow roasted ones."

 10 OEW

    After she was assured that her son was fine if a little tired, Droya ''cleaned up'' the area. Her searches uncovered some uncomfortable truths but the generous loot brought a small ray of happiness to the grim situation. Thorrinson, after being coaxed past a not quite sincere refusal, decided to take the torn robe that was good as new after a couple of castings of Mend. Droya took a ruby ring that was the most aesthetically pleasing piece but lowest in value. And after a bit of deliberation, they gave Gan the amulet, splitting the remaining wealth and equipment equally between the band and Droya.


    They decided to give Orison the spell book from the ''assassin'' in the wagon, seeing that the older mage didn''t have one, as well as the scant mage-work materials. His excitement for a possible invisibility spell was short lived, however. That disappointment was washed away a few moments later when Droya palmed him a small eternium shard in secret. To non-mages, these shards where a dangerous source of great wealth but to a mage, each one was a priceless opportunity.


    As Droya looked at the distracted Thorrinson, she whispered, "Do what you can to make it right with him, within reason."


    At one point, Trygve recovered consciousness long enough to be assessed of the situation, share what information he believed to be important and pass temporary command to Thorrinson. Orison managed to get him to drink a good amount of water before the marshal slipped back into a pain and worry filled slumber. Despite all Orison had done for him, the marshal was far from recovered.


    During his magic replenishing down time, Orison attempted to identify the enchantments on the older mage''s belongings while Droya and Thorrinson discussed what they had learned.


    "The magic users were all Ashlanders and the, um, other people wore the colors and markings of Martial Trygve''s house. As far as he and I can gather from the bits that the scout and the marshal figured, the Ashlanders'' real target was an Empire band, er, unit. Since the marshal''s house head was responsible for that bit of nastiness when we picked you up, with the cart and all, they were probably sent to harass the two of you the last couple of days left and stir up some trouble once we got to Whiteriver. They must have run foul of the Ashlanders not too long before us. As bad as we had it, they probably did a number on the Ashlanders'' preparations," Thorrinson offered.


    Droya replied, "That was them unprepared!? Well thank goodness for small favors I guess...GAN! I hope you don''t mind me calling you that but Orison said not to let you fall asleep before he could finish looking you over... How sure are you that the marshal''s house wasn''t here for, you know, darker deeds, Thorrinson?"


    The man pondered for a moment and said, "They were equipped light. Not to say there wouldn''t have been a hot head or two looking to push our boundaries but... Look, I know why you''re focused on that. If I was you, I probably would be too. It''s just that a group of Ashlanders that practices necromancy, targets Empire folk on Northlander soil and didn''t seem that against killing in the open is bad news of a bigger nature...


    "I know you don''t have much to go on but the lord of Whiteriver''s a fair man more than not. He might be willing to let the houses blow off their pettiness when nothing''s going on but now that we got this, he''ll cut through the knots quick. The good news in that is he''ll be more inclined to throw the book on the table in front of everyone and slice it down the middle. The bad news is that whatever he decides will be final and he''ll wash his hands of it."


    Droya said, "What do you think about these ''other people''? Is waiting here until morning good enough, is it smart? Those things are less than a mile up from us."


    Thorrinson sighed, looking no less worried than Droya, then said, "The marshal''s had to clean up after some cultists that practiced necromancy before. He said these are acting like the ones he saw before. Without a controller they just mill around unless someone comes right up on them. If we were in a barrow or cave, giving more time wouldn''t be smart because they get less confused and more focused as time goes by. But out here? The sun alone might knock a couple down and the rest will be a lot weaker."


    While the two continued their conversation, once Orison felt he had enough for a worthwhile heal, he moved over to Gen. Emptying his reserves once more, he looked over the scout.


    Orison muttered to himself, "Cold sweat and glassy eyes. No outward signs of infection and these shakes aren''t from shock or fatigue anymore... Gen... GEN! Focus on me. Do you still hurt anywhere?"


    With unfocused eyes and slurred words, Gen said, "M''neck. Tooknarrow thrr onthside."


    He lifted the lantern to get a better look at Gan''s neck. Sure enough, the veins were a darker shade, the most disturbing one being the jugular.


    Orison cursed inwardly, "No doubt he had to take that potion or he would have been dead in less than a minute but it sealed something in and my healing suppressed the swelling and inflammation or I would have caught this the first time. Damn it. Besides my two silver bullets I only have one cure disease... F*** it. I at least have the stuff to make a couple less magical ones but he''ll be dead before that would work if I try it now."


    Chewing an herb he just got from the mage''s loot and waiting a short minute that felt like an eternity, Orison watched Gan slowly slip away until he had enough reserve to pull out his only bottle of Cure Disease. He nearly had to force the potion into the scout who was almost too weak to swallow. Two swallows in, the scout took the bottle out of Orison''s hand and downed the rest with vigor.


    "Oh yeah. That one had a restore stamina on it too, instant not over time... All kinds of sad inside," Orison thought to himself as he whispered to Gan, "I know you suddenly feel like if you don''t move you''ll bust but that will fade in just a little bit. Sit tight."


    Bright eyed, Gan nodded a little too enthusiastically while practically shoving the empty bottle back at Orison. Storing the bottle away, Orison watched in fascinated horror at the sudden bulge on the side of Gan''s neck before a black arrow of sticky goop shot from it followed by a couple of wet, producing coughs revealing even more being spit out of the scout''s mouth. He handed a water skin to Gan before bending to inspect the sputum, catching a strong odor of rot and a faint sense of some kind of magic that made Orison''s skin pebble in aversion.


    As Gan paused in rinsing his mouth out to gag a few times, before rinsing some more, Orison interrupted Droya and Thorrinson''s conversation to say, "Hey, fearless temporary leader. Please check, Haver, Huhvar, your friend''s body and make sure it isn''t twitching. If it is we''re going to have to give him his hero''s pyre right here... Check for black veins."


    From the wagon that Thorrinson dashed to grimly, Orison heard, "No...and really blue but he was a pale guy. I think that''s pretty normal."


    A bit of real world lore tickled the back of Orison''s mind, prompting him to check for himself. Mixed relief and nausea from close proximity to five dead bodies, two of which were in many pieces, Orison said, "Just let him get doused in some sun before wrapping him up again. There''s a bit of necromantic energy clinging to his body but not enough for it to be a problem for us tonight. If he was shielded from light until buried there''s a chance he''d turn into a barrow wight, given time. A little sunlight should burn it right off."


    As they made their way back to the comfort of the small fire, Thorrinson said, "In the old days, I think volva used to do that on purpose to ward off grave robbers but necromancy''s been banned everywhere except on the island of Mortal Winds and Ashlander settlements as long as it stays within their ancestor worship practices... I''m starting to understand why... The kingdoms with eastern sea borders got quite a few Ashlander refugees from Mortal Winds some years ago but recently they''ve been moving back. None of this makes any damn sense. Sorry, mam."


    With slight amusement that quickly became dour again, Droya said, "As much as I appreciate the respect, I have to agree with the sentiment."


    Orison clapped his hands once lightly, drawing everyone''s attention, before he said, "And racking our brains on it is only going going to make us more tired. As I''m sure none of us will feel safe to rest until daylight, I suggest we do a few things to make ourselves feel a little better."


    Gan said, "I could use some tooth polishing grit and something to get this taste out of my mouth. Not to sound ungrateful but this open sore on the side of my neck doesn''t feel very safe to leave that way."


    Orison nodded, handing his own grit and a sprig of mint to Gan, then said, "The first two are easy, the last one... Better wash it out with the grain spirits in the healer kit and let it air dry before I magic it closed again, just to be safe. While you''re gritting your teeth from the sting, ruminate on the wisdom of hanging on to the new amulet you have. It helps ward against disease. It''s not that strong but often just a little bit of help is all a body really needs to fight something off.


    "While I''m on the subject, mom, your ring has a weak natural healing increase enchantment and a heat resistance just strong enough to make a summer midday bearable in the shade. Thorrinson, your new robe has a passable fire resistance and a small increase to magic restoration. With a few creative alterations to dim down it''s loud colors a bit and a good hair cut, you would look the part of a teacher in a school for gifted youngsters. I''ll transcribe this novice spell out of the book you guys gave me, coincidentally called Transcribe, for you as soon as I learn it."


    Thorrinson laughed and said, "If someone asked me before this trip if I was ready to retire, I probably would have answered them with a black eye but now? Spending the last of my good years and the remainder, keeping children from wasting the advantages that the gods gave them sounds like a worthwhile trade. Any chance you would give me a copy of your healing spell?"


    Slightly aggrieved, Orison slowly shook his head and answered, "I would if I could but it''s an innate magic. At best I could- I will give you a fixed version that would be good for small things. A warning in advance, though. It''ll be the hardest novice magic to learn you''ve ever seen or will likely ever see... If you still feel serious about it, later on when I''m settled, I''ll help you get started. You''ll need to round out your basics and it would be a good idea to pick up Ancient Elvish script. Learning models directly without being able to read the information and notes like you did is dangerous. Many-"


    With a slightly nervous chuckle in his voice Thorrinson threw his hands up and said, "Whoa, Whoa. Ease up on me. Even if I do decide to open a school, it won''t be tomorrow. If you have some good ideas or things you think I should know, write it down. I''m probably going to forget half of what you''ve already told me... Been curious about this for awhile but I think we''re close enough to ask now. Don''t know if you ever noticed or not but in a crowded room our names could be confused with each other. Now I know you''re not a Northlander so..."


    Orison smiled wryly and said, "Sorry about that. I''m prone to take an idea and run with it... My name means ''little prayer'' but depending on who you ask, it could also be interpreted as just prayer or a brief benediction."


    Droya ruffled Orison''s head and said, "More like little miracle. Like it''s a miracle nothing happened to your short bow, little cub. I managed to salvage a couple of arrows from your smashed quiver but whatever was broken or missing has been replaced from that archer ''thing''. You''re back to full kit... If it''s not too- If you like, I could help get the char out of your beard and hair, Thorrinson."


    Looking more pained than he did when Orison was halfway through healing his burns, Thorrinson said, "That would be appreciated. Uh, try to save as much of my beard as you can."


    The rest of the night passed uneventfully. Droya took first watch for a couple of hours before Thorrinson took her place until dawn. Gan ran down quickly after the potion''s artificial alertness wore off and slept like the dead until he was woken up when it was time to go, still looking a bit drawn and tired. As for the marshal, he was left to sleep with Gan watching over him while Thorrinson, Droya and Orison went to check out the four walking corpses.


    Under the light of day, with nowhere good to hide, the newly undead creatures had attempted to bury themselves within the shadowed regions around where they milled during the night. Despite being separated and weakened they still had fight left in them. As if the four had some communal bond, understandable since they were family in life, once the first one was attacked the other three furiously dug their way out of the ground. Fortunately for the three living assailants, being in such a compromising position didn''t allow for the creatures to do more than offer token resistance before joining the first in being dispatched.


    Out of respect for the marshal''s wishes, the exposed wagon became a corpse hauler complete with the heads of their fallen elf foes. Despite Orison''s suggestion to wait and send Thorrinson ahead, allowing Trygve and Gan to convalesce properly, the marshal insisted on moving forward. More alarming, with the late start on the day, Trygve seemed bent on making up for lost time.


    Gan seemed to be holding up alright on Trygve''s horse but the marshal looked wan by the time they had settled into their last camp spot. Ample water and the soup stock Orison had warmed up with magic on the go, barely saw the marshal through a day''s journey on the wagon''s bench with Thorrinson. Fearing that Gan and Trygve would lapse into illness after pushing themselves so much, Orison concocted a fever reducer and mild sedative from the healer''s kit for the two of them.


    The next morning, when Orison found out that Droya took the second half of night duty, he urged her to take a two hour nap and damn their schedule. Since anyone who would object was still sleeping, Orison had his way.


    "I don''t care if we have to drive this corpse cart right up to the feudal lord''s hall straight from the road to make it in time for the inheritance hearing this evening. I''m not going to enter Whiteriver with a single person dead on their feet. That old a**hat must have still been delirious to push everyone so hard yesterday. His job might be over the moment we''ve reached our destination but mine and mom''s is just beginning.


    "At first it was kind of a cute inside joke about Droya''s armor but it isn''t funny anymore. My calves are still aching from all the time I spent walking beside the horse yesterday." Unable to do anything meaningful or productive while he vigilantly waited, Orison occupied himself with a mumbling gripe session.


    When the marshal woke up on his own, he immediately started bellowing orders. Right before he was about to lay into Thorrinson, Orison laid into him first. Stunned at the raging outburst of the ten year old boy before him, his two surviving band members had plenty of time to get out of harm''s way and ready to go by the time Orison had finished his rant.


    Later, sitting with Thorrinson on the wagon bench, Trygve said, "Do you think the boy''s original parents were healers? He can certainly b**** like one."


    Thorrinson replied, "Hard to say. The kid''s too smart for his own good, more like. But still, I can attest that you had well more than just a foot in the grave by the time the scout dragged you back to us."


    Trygve clenched his stiff sword hand and asked, "Is what he said true about my hand?"


    Thorrinson chuckled and said, "Wasn''t there. I was beating feet to be ready so you''d rather get on the road than finish dressing me down... But I''ll tell you what I saw the night before last... When the scout brought you in, you were grayer than granite with barely a breath left in you and the only part left attached to your arm was your thumb and pointing finger. He''s no shrine priest with the healing magic and he''s no Hvarr with the ''get better'' box but he did save your life and your hand. He even washed it real good for you before he stuck it back on.


    "He did that after giving everything he had to throw down with a mage who could have killed us all alone if the b*****d hadn''t been so damn cocky... Not only for you, he did for all of us and even your horse, all while tapping an empty keg. And let me tell you, that''ll take the starch out of your drawers in a way swinging a sword never will."

 11 OEW

    The continuing uneasy compromises between Trygve and Orison saw the group rolling up the road to Whiteriver an hour past midday which wasn''t horribly past Trygve''s latest acceptable time of an hour til. While that made a bit of a crunch for the marshal''s discharge of duties, it still would be enough for the marshal to report the trip to the feudal lord and then again to his house leader before it would be time for the hearing. It was, however, too much time for all but the most hardcore of instigators to wait for their arrival.


    After seeing the half assembled Whiteriver soldiers who had gotten ready to foray out to meet them, Orison suddenly realized just how much of an uproar being late by two hours meant. He received an even deeper understanding of what this compromise cost Trygve after hearing the band marshal of their ''rescue or retrieval'' band, begin heckling about the honor band''s satisfactory discharge of duty record finally being broken. That is, until the man registered the scorched wagon piled with bodies.


    Among the handful of citizens who had been prompted by house, coin or roused by rumor to spit vitriol or throw rotten food at an expected prison cart, there was nothing but silent stares at grizzly trophies and possible family member''s bodies. With the conveniently prepared extra guards, there were plenty armed individuals to keep the curious, malicious and grieving away. The eyes of those same citizens had no trouble reaching Orison and his mother, however, and what lied in some of them was enough to keep mother and son on edge all the way to their destination of the lord''s keep.


    ***


    Two long, agonizing hours went by for Orison as he sat in a waiting room with Thorrinson and Gan fielding away would be unofficial visitors with friendly warnings and icy glares. It didn''t escape his notice that the two had stayed voluntarily after they were summarily dismissed from duty. There was no way of knowing what he would have had to endure otherwise.


    Orison replayed the moment of his arrival and the summary notice that had derailed all of the careful plans that he had made with his mother. Upon stepping into the foyer one of Lord Whiteriver''s courtiers and a centurion in polished armor met them. The minor Whiteriver court official informed the mother and son of their new status as Empire citizens, a decision that had been made three days prior.


    In a sudden reversal of roles, Orison was the one cooling his heels while the business savvy but politics inept Droya was led to see the legate in charge of this section of Northland''s diplomatic dealings with the Centerlands. As expected, only in the Northlands would a ten year old find themselves speaking for their whole family but one positive thing could be said about that. No inheriting child would be at the mercy of incidental guardians. At least, not until afterwards.


    The two hours of worried waiting wasn''t broken by a call to the legate''s temporary office but a summons to one of the lord''s private meeting chambers. Ushered in alone, Orison found himself face to face with a teenage boy, nearly if not already a man by Northland standards. The dark eyes of this teenager did not carry the brightness of youth but already held a touch of cynicism and vicissitude.


    In a surprisingly deep and steady voice, the teenager said, "Greetings, brother."


    Faced with the in-the-flesh Venito Arentus, one that lacked any of the expected familiarity, Orison was momentarily struck speechless. Fortunately, he was relieved of the need as a courtier announced to them that the lord of the keep was present. Following directly behind the announcement was the man himself.


    After the customary acknowledgment, Lord Whiteriver sat down and motioned for them to do the same before he said, "The Empire has their ways and we have ours. In cases such as this, I like bringing the siblings together in private before the hearing, just to share a few words. We don''t have much time for this and an argument will mark the end of this meeting.


    "If you''d like a few words in private afterwards, you may. I''ll overlook a certain amount of physical introductions but if someone is too injured to attend the hearing afterword, then the offending party will suffer in my ruling. If one of you dies then the other will join them. The treasury can never be too full.


    "Young Arentus, as the older you have the floor first. Remember to keep your speeches short and sweet. If I get bored, I''ll stop listening and move on... Is there anything you''d like to say to me here that you won''t be saying on the floor at the hearing?"


    Venito pondered for a second after giving Orison a side glance and said, "Aside from addressing the missing head of House Riven''s abuse of guardian power, which I have been counseled not to bring up during this hearing, no, your lordship."


    Lord Whiteriver nodded and replied, "And it was for good reason. Never the less, one of my best men are working with Lyra to draw an accounting. When it''s done, I intend to have House Riven cough up threefold what it has swallowed. That means you might come up light in this hearing but all said and done you''ll profit in the end. My word on it.


    "Young Cantrip, due to a bit of legal sleight of hand and political foolery, you nor your mother have a right to speak at the hearing. As far as the Centerland legate is concerned, he has what he came for, so I doubt he''ll have much to say on your behalf either. This is your one and only chance to address me on the matter of your inheritance. You heard what I told your brother, so use your words and time wisely."


    Orison allowed himself a calming breath then said, "Your lordship, until I stepped into Whiteriver and heard the notice, I was still a Northland citizen. An a**hat who I''m covering the actions of for the sake of Band Marshal Trygve and two good men died to get me here safely. To recognize that sacrifice, I would like your lordship''s permission to give an honor tithe to the families of the fallen on all Northland holdings of my inheritance."


    Both Venito and the lord looked at Orison stunned for a moment before Lord Whiteriver laughed heartily and slapped his knee, then said, "They silence your voice so you raise three whole families worth to scream on your behalf? Who fed you such a brilliant idea? Your mother?"


    Orison smiled mischievously and said, "Record of Northland Law and Amendments, your lordship. Since it was a little dated I was a bit worried about unpleasant surprises."


    Lord Whiteriver nodded and said, "You would have been if not for little Venito here. I''m afraid your path of inheritance was doomed to be a thorny one since the High King ratified land ownership and inheritance laws to keep and return our kingdom''s land back to Northlander hands. In any event, I''m overjoyed to pass a headache on to my wife''s little brother... Who will be the collector on behalf of those families?"


    Orison thought quickly and said, "Would your lordship indulge me a moment to consult band member Thorrinson?"


    The lord bellowed, "Skunk Butt, get in here! Little Orison''s got your a** in the sling now!"


    Thorrinson came in looking white as a sheet, shooting Orison a look that screamed ''what did you do''?


    "Consult away," Lord Whiteriver said, smiling broadly.


    Orison gave Thorrinson a reassuring pat on the arm and said, "Among the families of those we lost, who''s the smartest copper pincher?"


    Still significantly jarred, Thorrinson stumbled over his own words and said, "I, uh, Volta. I''d say Hvass'' sister, Volta.


    Orison said, "Sounds good to me. I nominate Volta, your lordship."


    Lord Whiteriver chuckled and said, "Oh yes, I''ve even managed to hear of that woman. Argued with a Redlander for nearly half a day over two silver and not having the change, he finally threw a gold coin at her before storming out of town. To add insult to injury, she chased him for nearly a quarter mile to throw his change back at him. Thank the gods she''s the blacksmith''s wife and not the barkeeper''s. Gods how I wish I could be in the treasury this evening.


    "Well, I''m going to need a few minutes to make sure Young Cantrip''s move doesn''t somehow turn into a headache for me too... Sounds to me, you would have benefited from your little brother''s presence here over a week ago. You''ve got a quarter mark before I need you to make your way to the hearing, Venito... Orison, I don''t think we''ll meet again on this side of life so I''ll bid you a long and prosperous one. Skunk Butt, make sure these two aren''t disturbed."


    Red faced, Thorrinson responded crisply, "Yes, your lordship."


    The two brothers stared at each other in stifling silence for a moment after Lord Whiteriver and Thorrinson left the room. Venito offered, "A little bat told me that you have a gift for me?"


    Orison nodded and said, "I do but is this a good place to give a legacy?"


    The older teenager slowly shook his head and said, "There won''t be many opportunities for us to meet between now and when you leave. If I send for you tonight will you come even if the way will seem foolish to follow?"


    Orison mulled it over and said, "If you make sure my mother isn''t startled by it, then yes. If one of my guesses is right, I might owe you half a favor."


    Venito''s chuckle almost sounded sinister before he replied, "Half? You asked for a chance and you received a chance. No, I''m sorry, that''s right. Giving you a chance was a favor to me. Still, I traded a handful of daggers for a handful of armor. No small sleight of hand. I can''t wait to see how you turn that into a favor for me. Now that will be a real magic trick. No pressure, little brother. At worst, after tonight we can go our own ways. I''m used to being disappointed."


    Orison tried not to show his nervousness as he thought to himself, "Are you freaking kidding me!? I was just fishing! This dude somehow got the legate and his soldiers to stay while inciting those House Riven folk to spring the trap? I thought I was doing pretty good for myself but this guy''s in another damn league. Should I consider myself lucky he put me at the same level as him or not?"


    He said to Venito, "A fool''s favor is yours for starters. The rest will have to wait for tonight."


    Venito snorted and said, "A fool''s favor isn''t as valuable as you think but as an opening offer from someone on the outside, it at least shows your goodwill... I''ll give you one thing. You think fast on your feet. Hopefully that will be enough to keep you alive where you''re going."


    Orison nodded thoughtfully and said, "I''ve heard that the Centerlands are rife with intrigue."


    Venito''s amused laughter carried a cruel edge that continued into his words as he said, "You think you''re going to the Centerlands? Think over your experiences and try again."


    In dawning horror, Orison felt lost as he looked at his nominal brother and said in nearly a whisper, "Mortal Winds? But why? All this effort is too much for a simple motive. The under aged second adopted son of a hero is too weak of a piece to warrant anything complex."


    Venito sighed and said, "Most people''s lives are influenced by the logic and emotion of themselves and others only. Some are moved by something more and there are those who can recognize those few. They try to assure prosperity or sometimes merely survival by meddling with the lives of those few.


    "This is something I''ve just learned myself. Don''t overthink it but don''t ignore coincidence. Since you accepted my offer, we''ll have more time and freedom to speak tonight... A word of advice. It''s pointless to argue with the legate. He doesn''t have the power to change anything but you might be able to wrestle some concessions."


    They parted ways in a stiff, overly formal fashion. It was obvious to both of them that neither knew exactly how they should feel about the other. What wasn''t so obvious was a small desire to actually have someone like a brother. It was especially true of one that managed to impress.


    While Venito made his way to the noisy meeting hall, Orison was finally summoned to the legate''s temporary office. Walking into the room, he noticed that Droya was exhausted and red eyed while the legate appeared as if he was sporting the mother of all migraines. Without waiting for acknowledgment, Orison helped himself to the seat beside his mom.


    Taking the queue Venito provided, Orison jumped in before the legate had finished his calming breath. "Ambassador, I am certain my mother has tried everything in her power to change your mind. I don''t believe she''s aware you have no power to change my assigned post. What I want to know is why I''m going there, what are the expectations of that post and what my compensation will be."


    Orison''s straight forward approach seemed to have alleviated the legate''s mental anguish a little as he said, "The why is a little hard to answer. The expectations aren''t much. You, or more specifically, your guardian just needs to keep the embassy maintained and facilitate the missives between Mortal Wind and the Centerlands moving without interruption. Your compensation is the inheritance of a barony title and acceptance as a patrician of the inner nobility... Your father was an honorary patrician, you are not. Without such, your title isn''t inheritable."


    With as much coldness as he could muster Orison replied, "Oh, well that makes matters simple-"


    The legate cut in with, "Then lets get on wi-"


    Orison yelled, "I wasn''t finished!" As the legate started flushing red in anger, Orison continued in a more neutral volume. " I don''t accept."


    With a controlled patience that doubtlessly took years to master, the legate intoned stonily, "You don''t have a choice. The title and even your basic citizenship demand it. Patrician status was a concession for allocating you to less than ideal conditions but I can take it off the table if you continue this childishness."


    Orison smiled coolly and said, "You misunderstand. I reject your title and your citizenship. Land and title were mine by rights. You take away the land and force my mother and I to put our lives at risk to earn an empty title and the right to pass it down. That''s supposed to be some kind of favor!?


    "You have five minutes to figure out a way to make this right or I walk. Oh, and whoever pulled favors to deny me what''s mine by rights better have covered their tracks well. The Empire will need a sacrifice to explain why their promises to the Dragonblood became more worthless than the paper they were written on."


    Dark as a thundercloud, the legate began standing only to freeze when he saw that Droya had somehow materialized a dagger in her hand, a promise of death dancing in her eyes.


    "If something happens to me or you walk out of this office without signing these papers, you''ll be in chains as Domain spies before first light," The legate threatened. Placing his hands on the desk, he finished standing and loomed over Orison who had stood as well.


    Orison lowered his head and balled his fists as the legate broke out in a leer and said, "So if we''re done with these theatr-"


    From foot to fist, Orison leveraged out every bit of strength and torque he could into a jumping uppercut that took the legate completely off guard. The man''s jaw line distorted as his head snapped back with sufficient force to knock him out cold. Orison summoned out a sprig of lavender which he crushed and rubbed on the man''s neck and wrists. Then he ran a little healing through his fractured hand before grabbing the legate and dragging the unconscious man out into the foyer.


    A panicking Droya asked, "What are you doing, Orison!?"


    He gave her a reassuring smile and replied, "Putting on a play that even a Northlander will enjoy. Please grab the contracts off the desk, mom... and, um, let me get away with a little cussing this time. I promise not to backslide or may the gods have mercy on my soap."


    Once Orison got the man dragged out into the hallway, he began yelling in righteous anger, "This is Northland, you pompous perfumed wh*re of a politician! If you don''t even have the snuff to put down a ten year old, then you''re dizzy if you think you can steal from one for whatever master you wiggle your a** for!"


    Within moments the entire hearing, with Lord Whiteriver in the forefront, were adding peanut gallery potshots to Orison''s increasingly heated accusations against the legate while passionately lauding Northland prowess. The empire guard captain, seeing the staunch implied support of Orison''s actions, held his men back from rushing the mother and child but did insist on being allowed to carry the legate away for treatment.


    Orison handed the signer''s copy of the legate''s paperwork to the captain and said loudly, "Take a copy of this TRASH to someone who ACTUALLY holds the empire''s will as law and get it redressed. It wouldn''t do for people to confuse the rogue actions of this sewer rat as proof that a Centerland promise is worthless because people WILL be paying attention now."


    Trying to wipe the wide, mischief loving grin off his face but not entirely succeeding, Lord Whiteriver said, "That''s enough interruption out of you, boy... Court Mage Gerrald, collect those papers from that svelte kitten temptress over there. I''d like to see what put a burr in that boy''s breechclout after the hearing''s done... Ganga Fyrstr, escort these two to the Inn and open a bill in my name. Skunk Butt, go home. Your wife thinks you''re dead and she''s wailing two of my finest guards out front into early retirement... The rest of you, back into the hearing hall. I''d like to wrap this up before my beard goes gray.


    As Thorrinson ran off in a panic, Gan led Orison and Droya away.


    The last thing they heard before being out of earshot was Mage Gerrald helpfully offering, "I have a dye made from dandelion extract that will fix that right up."


    "Use it on the beard below your belt, you limp-wristed Seithr!" Lord Whiteriver bellowed.

 12 OEW

    Once the three were settled into the inn, by silent agreement, they took their meals and baths in their rooms. It didn''t take long for Orison''s antics to spread through the town and despite honor tithes and earning some face for Northland there was bound to still be some sourness. That didn''t mean that Orison didn''t understand what holding an open bill under the lord was supposed to buy him tonight. Mentally strained and physically tired, none of them were up to earning anymore good will even on someone else''s coin.


    Orison awoke with shattered recollections still taunting him, even as they faded, coaxing him to recall forgotten memories of a fugitive child. Struggling to hold on to them long enough to mull over later, he looked around to see his room foggy and mysterious. Such an event wouldn''t be out of place for this time of year if he weren''t on the second floor.


    He girded his wits and courage to take a look outside his window to see that the whole town was covered in a misty gloom. Orison fought against the subconscious desire to wake everyone and looked for what he assumed would be his escort. Only a few seconds later a small shadow broke away from the rest between two houses across the street to glide through swirling fog.


    Two faintly luminescent red eyes looked up at him from the ground beneath his window. As the small, red eyed figure began rising up to him free of any signs of magic, Orison clenched tightly against the rising urge to flee in gibbering terror. At that moment, he fully realized the connotation of his brother''s request because voluntarily following a noble vampire anywhere was far more than just foolish. It was generally suicidal or permanently damning.


    As the figure in misshapen robes crested with Orison''s window, a sonorous girl''s voice said, "So you are little Vinny''s brother?" Underneath a second deeper voice, almost inaudible, simultaneously whispered, "Your eyes are very pretty. Can I have them?"


    Barely avoiding a reflexive response of yes, Orison answered, "I''m a certain you know the answer to both of your questions but to humor your ladyship, I am a brother by law to someone who might be called that by those close to him. I''d prefer to keep my eyes for now. They are terribly useful."


    One angelic and one monstrous voice laughed softly as a small clawed hand reached out from underneath the robes, offering it''s open palm, while it said, "So very careful. So very wise. Will you follow me into darkness, into damnation?"


    Orison suppressed a chill as he reached for the hand and said, "Darkness and damnation are as much a place as a state of being and I have walked out of both once before. I place trust in my brother when I take your hand, not you."


    Pulled into a body no larger but far stronger than his own, Orison''s vision was filled with fog and his nose with the scent of earth and iron as the dual voice intoned, "A dangerous game you play, a deadly one. I like games, -to win them. You have your safe passage, -within the set rules. I hope we have a chance to play again after tonight, - to taste you."


    With the voices so intimately intertwined, Orison knew he missed some of what each had said but hoped he heard enough that his understanding meant he was safe for the time being. With a silent prayer that tonight''s risk would be worthwhile in the end, Orison forced as much of the screaming tension out as he could.


    The agonizing stillness that could have been a short or long time, finally ended in an exhaling of disappearing mist that revealed a large, torch lit cavern. Once the sounds of popping gristle and snapping bones stopped, the figure lowered it''s hood to reveal a beautiful, doll-like face.


    She said, "Follow me carefully and do not step where I have not."


    Orison didn''t immediately follow the creature masquerading as an angelic child, saying instead, "I cannot see well in here but my sensitivities to magic aren''t affected by light. Why would you intentionally step a mere finger''s width from a spell trap? I honestly don''t feel up to playing hopscotch with that high a stakes. If need be, I''ll wait for my brother here."


    Frowning, she said, "Follow the ledge to your left. Parts are hidden with invisibility magic. Don''t cast any spells while you walk it." Turning around in a huff, she skipped and hopped along her own route.


    Sighing heavily, Orison walked the sketchy ledge both seen and unseen, avoiding touching the wall even when it became a tricky balancing act. He knew he didn''t see them all but there was at least one magic trap at each such place. If not for Morrel''s training, he realized, this route would have been nearly impossible to finish without injury or possibly even death.


    Upon reaching the top of his trek, Orison spotted Venito sitting on a bench in a dusty alchemy room. Before greeting his older brother, Orison looked around the room with wistful pity. The previously top quality equipment had fallen into disrepair.


    Noticing his little brother''s evaluation, Venito said, "In its height, this enclave held two master alchemists. I would have enjoyed hearing their lessons."


    Silently, Orison pulled out one of the two most precious books he brought with him. After having used the alien magic upon the skill books, not all had disappeared. Some of them changed and in doing so became more like proper books in their field. It''s contents were locked into his mind for all time so he saw no harm in giving it up after he had verified that no new information was contained within. He felt it was the least he could do for this unintentionally abandoned son and brother.


    While Venito flipped through the book dubiously at first and then with child-like glee, Orison used magic to clean and mend the equipment. By the time Venito was able to tear his eyes away, he was stunned once more by the restored alchemy room. Orison sat down and focused on refilling his magic tank while Venito inspected and fiddled with the equipment.


    A few minutes later, Venito turned to Orison and said, "Is this the legacy you spoke of? It wasn''t what I expected but it''s quite nice. A real treat, honestly."


    Orison smiled weakly and said, "Not quite. I mean it''s part of it I guess but that''s more because out of all this," Orison gestured around the cavern then continued, "It''s something we can share. I''m not much for killing. I won''t shy away from the need but I wouldn''t want to do it for a living... I do like alchemy though... Don''t think I look down on, you know, being an assassin. Much like other jobs that have existed since the beginning, there will always be a want or need for them.


    "I think father wanted brighter things for you but I also know that since you chose this, he wouldn''t want you to do it without the very best he could supply. Above all I know he''d want you to be happy. When he came home to find what had happened, he was inconsolable. Mother and myself were only an attempt to try. In the end, his choice to go to the land of souls to face his destiny had more to do with the loss of you than anything else."


    The doll faced girl stepped out of the darkness and said to Venito, "He tells the truth. It''s also personal and emotionally painful for him to tell you but lacks any sign of jealousy or hatred that should be there. Your little brother is hard to read. Most are like open books and he''s a locked grimoire with secret pages. I''d love to pry him open piece by piece."


    The hard shell of Venito''s cracked and a little vulnerability shown through as he said, "Then why didn''t he try harder to find me? Did he just assume I was dead and didn''t even bother?"


    Orison dismissed the idea of answering craftily and just decided to be sincere as the limits and his own reservations would allow as he said, "He was powerful. He roamed the entirety of these lands as if it were his personal possession, treating the whole world as if it were a game but he was empty. I don''t think that he was capable of loving anything in this world as a person should but I do know he cared about you.


    "I couldn''t tell you exactly why. I think something about the way he met you and what he did made you stand out in his mind. I think something about the rage and grief that would drive a child to call for someone''s death somehow resonated with him. He was thoughtless, capricious and emotionally removed from everything but I KNOW he cared about you more than he cared about anyone else in this world. Don''t tell my mother any of this, please. She''s suffered enough."


    Red eyed, Venito looked to the monster girl who nodded and said, "All true. He even pities you." The monster girl''s mouth split in a malicious grin as Venito''s faced twisted from sorrow to an ugly slow burning rage.


    Looking at the vampire blandly, Orison said, "Only so far as as what he had to endure because of father''s mistakes."


    She smiled wider and said, "Not entirely true, you also feel guilt. I wonder why that could be?"


    Orison said sadly, "I feel burdened by father''s mistakes. I''m willing to accept the good with the bad when it comes to myself but for Venito and my mother, I''m still struggling to find ways to somehow make it all right even though that''s impossible. The past is the past. Nothing that I can do has the ability to erase what was."


    The smile that adorned the monster''s face slipped back into a frown as she said, "That''s completely irrational."


    Holding back the urge to scream at a vampire who was capable of ending him with little more than a thought, Orison said, "Emotion is literally the antithesis of rational thought. That''s why people who hold the ability to discern so called ''truth'', are capable of painting a person in the colors of a villain or a saint at whim. Distorted by the lens of their own perception and painted with their bias, such an ability is only reliable to its wielder, only useful as a reference to anyone else... Now tell me, precious. Do I think I''m lying about that?"


    The fake girls frown dipped into a scowl as monstrous features blurred her face as she said, "Now you tread dangerous grounds-smells tasty."


    "Are you his master on the path of silence?" Orison asked.


    The creature nodded and Orison continued, "Then I beg you not to try and strip away his humanity. It might make him a better assassin but but the Order of Silence was so much more than that, more than being good at killing. Forgetting that, killing their emotions to make them better killers is what destroyed The Bloody Hand."


    Underneath the scowl, Orison could detect a trace of sadness as the girl said, "What do you know of such things, child?"


    Orison shook himself out of his moroseness and said with false cheer, "Less than I could but far more than I want to. That, however, is not why I''m here."


    Reaching into his robe and pulling a package out of his space, he handed it to Venito, ignoring the vampire''s dubious stare.


    Venito looked at the large package in his hands and said, "How did you-"


    With feigned mortification, Orison interrupted with, "You wanted a magic trick? I gave you a magic trick... Or must I also apologize for taking a figurative thing too literal?"


    Venito blinked for a moment before it dawned on him that his little brother was paraphrasing his own words back at him from earlier in the day. Feeling a little too emotional to be witty, he opened the package but didn''t get far before he almost dropped the whole thing on the ground. Even the vampire girl''s hand flew to her mouth and contained a slight tremble.


    The vampire looked at Orison in amazed confusion and said, "How could you bear to give such a thing away?"


    Orison looked at her in genuine surprise and said, "You''ve seen how I feel. How could I bear to keep it? Since he chose this path, it unquestioningly belongs to him."


    Venito undressed in front of the vampire and his little brother with the negligent air of someone who had forgotten he wasn''t alone as he donned the assassin garb made of unknown leather, bits of dull metal and black silk that seemed to eat the dim light around it.


    In reality, Orison had considered using it himself or giving it to his mother after learning Mend. It would have only been a little tricky for him to come up with another valuable gift sufficiently impressive for his brother but ultimately Orison believed it to be exactly where it belonged in Venito''s hands. It was more than just guilt or sentimentality, however. There were people in this world with long memories and even a random master mage could easily discern the intentions behind such an enchanted garb.


    In this world, the worth of the enchantments alone would make it something a person could not wear openly unless they were powerful. It''s historical significance as a symbol of leadership to one of the most feared organizations that ever existed, relegated it to a collector''s item for a king or archmage. No one else would dare own it as assassins still answered the gruesome ritual summons the order had established countless years ago, member or not.


    Under the excitement, Venito had completely dropped his affected maturity and gamboled around like a child for a moment before he stopped, embarrassed. He walked over to his little brother and stood awkwardly in silence, not knowing exactly what he should do. Eventually he managed an emotionally charged but lamely offered ''thank you'' before lapsing back into stiff intensity.


    In an effort to end the stalemate, Orison reached up to pat Venito''s shoulder. The older brother, mistaking the action for a more intimate familial gesture, dove into Orison and executed a maneuver that had more in common with a tackling grapple than a hug. To the casual observer, Orison''s red rimmed eyes and thumping taps on the back mixed with Venito''s crushing vice of arms might appear heartwarming. In reality, Venito seemed under some strange misconception that the more vertebrae temporarily separated during a hug, the more sincere it was. And he was determined to pop them all, from neck to tailbone.


    As Orison''s taps became steadily weaker and the dark spots in his vision started merging, Venito finally accomplished his goal and let go. Stepping back with a satisfied smile on his face, Venito was emotionally moved as he saw Orison wipe half formed tears from his eyes, the effort of forcing his lungs to move in and out easily mistaken for an attempt to hold back hitching sobs. The vampire girl, overlooking the display, alternated expressions between wistful envy and schadenfreude.


    Executing a charming giggle that gave Orison unpleasant goosebumps, the vampire said, "Little Vinny, the night is not long this time of year. Since I assume he''s managed to not disappoint, do we not have a main event scheduled before I must return him?"


    Venito nodded and said enthusiastically, "Yes, that''s right! Thanks for everything tonight, big sister Portia. It means a lot to me."


    Seeing a faint blush rise on the little monster''s face as she led them further into the abandoned sanctum, Orison thought to himself, "I feel for you, brother. A legal loli monster yandere is one hell of a final boss for your future love life." When she looked his way with a confused frown on her face, he quickly masked his emotions with the mild irrational anxiety railroad crossing and stop lights used to give him, a feeling her eyes elicited in spades.


    The slightly better lit back alcove they stepped into, once used as one of multiple bedroom cubicles for Bloody Hand members, currently contained two men. Both of them were naked except for a a black bag over their heads. Manacles around their wrists and ankles were locked onto a bar behind them that had them both unable to move from the kneeling position they were in.


    As Portia removed the hoods to reveal the gagged men beneath, she said, "Since you have no desire to join our august company as a member, Little Prayer, then this ritual will be dedicated to brotherhood of a more mundane sort. Since you do not share blood of birth then by reckoning of the order''s way, you can mingle blood of murder to seal your connection. Little Vinny shall spill the blood of this disgraced legate to avenge your wrongs and you shall slay the head of House Riven to avenge his. It will also be a sign of goodwill and friendship between yourself and our family of brothers and sisters."


    To buy himself some time to think, Orison said, "That legate has information I could use. Would it b-"


    Portia sneered and said, "Already obtained... Or do you think yourself more capable than I of wresting knowledge from an unwilling mind?"


    Orison''s mind spun it''s cogs until an epiphany settled on him. Knowing he would need to accept this without anymore hesitation or risk souring positive impressions, he asked, "Before we begin, I''d like to know. Did the head of House Riven send a man with the honor guard to kill my mother at that soldier''s discretion?"


    Portia recalled for a moment then responded, "Now that you mention it, though not directly, he welcomed the possibility and sent a soldier with a hatred of Bastet."


    Orison''s eyes narrowed at the abused man and said, "Then, not only am I eager to cement this brotherhood and friendship, I have an idea how to get the most out of it."

 13 OEW

    Under Orison''s direction, Portia and Venito concocted a poison from materials conveniently growing in the surrounding caverns while he healed up the two condemned men.


    As a consideration to custom, with bound battleaxe in hand, Orison removed the house head''s gag and asked, "Any last words?"


    The man weakly spat at Orison and said in a raspy voice, "I will be watching your future suffering while I feast among honored warriors in the land of souls."


    With false pity on his face, Orison said, "I can say with a degree of certainty that you will not."


    With a clean and precise chop, more for consideration of Portia''s meal collection, Orison cleaved off the man''s head. He even managed to execute a light flick of the axe so that the head did not land in the draining basin. As the man''s soul was drawn into the dark corner of Orison''s space, Portia suddenly stared at the boy''s body with an intrigued expression.


    To distract her, he pointed at the head and said, "A lady''s refreshments shouldn''t be contaminated with random debris."


    She nodded with a faint smile before returning to draining the legate''s wrists. Once the disgraced legate was on the cusp of death, Orison healed the cuts before Venito poured his very first alchemical product down the man''s throat. While the man weakly shuddered in the throws of death, Orison covertly nicked him with the axe while Portia drunk greedily from the legate''s basin. After dumping the beheaded man''s basin into a large amphora that smelled of strong liquor, she bid a temporary farewell and left with the bodies.


    "I''m all for this disgrace after death thing but I don''t quite understand how you expect those men to buy this setup," Venito shared his doubts.


    Orison explained, "They don''t have to. The common folk believe what they see. More importantly, an entertaining story will travel much further and faster than a dry, logical one.


    "The smarter men like Lord Whiteriver and his court mage, will have already gathered that the legate and that patriarch were bedfellows in conspiracy. We''re just exposing them as such in a more literal way. Regardless of the truth, Centerland would want the news of a lovers'' murder suicide involving one of their diplomats snuffed as soon as possible. Something that an active investigation wouldn''t allow.


    " As far as Whiteriver and it''s inhabitants are concerned, I may be uncomfortable with the sentiments and certain intolerance of the Northlanders but in this case it works in our favor. Mr. Riven was disgraced in life as an inheritance thief and in death being ''womanly''. It would be a small miracle if he wasn''t fed to the wolves much less be granted space in Riven''s tomb."


    Venito looked at Orison dubiously and said, "Uncomfortable? Do you, uh, have any personal reasons to, you know, feel that way?"


    Orison said stonily, "Aside from women who forswear family to pick up sword and shield, the rest are...treated a certain way. Their personal freedom and basic rights are far too strongly tied to what a father, husband or adult son allow..."


    Seeing Venito''s currently uninterested but still insistent face, Orison said, "Oh, you mean... Maybe it''s because I''m a bit of a late bloomer but I don''t really have any thoughts on it, literally. I have zero reason to believe I''d be anything but a lover of women. Then again..." Orison threw himself into a chair dramatically, throwing an arm across his forehead in a tragic pose, "All these strong and terrifying women I keep encountering in my life. Who knows what that will do to my fragile child''s mind."


    Venito said bitterly, "It''s not a joke. You were at the orphanage. You know what men like that do."


    Orison slowly nodded in thought and said, "To boys and girls both, you mean? In general, I think children just make for easy prey to sexual predators, especially disenfranchised ones like orphans. I think most men and women who long for unaccepted kinds of companionship just end up living sad and lonely lives. There is something to be said about how repressed desire can twist into something ugly and evil, though.


    "The wood elves have that whole two soul thing. They might be a bit rigid when it comes to roles but as far as I''ve been able to read or get out my steward, no child who has a male mother or female father has much to say about it outside of what you''d hear from any average family."


    Venito delivered woodenly, "They''re cannibals."


    Orison said dryly, "You''re an assassin. You''re mentor is a vampire. Your argument is invalid... Look, all I''m saying is don''t murder a guy just because he likes guys or a girl just because she likes girls... You-"


    With a lewd grin, Venito interrupted, "I don''t have a problem with that one. It''s kinda hot."


    Orison said tiredly, "I''m only asking that you let people be as long as they aren''t hurting anyone." To himself, he thought, "It''s not like I can tell him that the reason I care so much is because in another life I had friends and a family member who loved differently. They were good peeps. It just doesn''t sit well with me that my nominal brother of this life might hurt or kill people just for being different."


    Venito crossed his arms and said, "It''s not natural."


    Orison pinched the bridge of his nose and waved an arm around while he said, "Neither is ending a life before it''s time with poison or a piece of sharpened metal. Yet, here we are."


    Silence descended for awhile before Venito shifted nervously and said, "I-it''s not like I don''t get what you''re saying at all but every time I see...You know what father did for me. The director, the one from before, he did things to some of us. I...For a time, almost a year before I came of age, the head of Riven used to encourage me to learn about adult matters. Now that I think back I know it was to have reason to get at more of my holdings but at the time I was glad to go drinking and wh*ring... I would have these moments. A certain touch or phrase, sometimes- sometimes all it took was just getting what I came for. It would come back to me. I''d be scared or angry or..."


    "A lady, she was beautiful, said I could have her for free if I was willing to do it outside. I was already a little drunk so I agreed. While I was taking her against the wall, a man came up behind me and put his hand on my- my hip. To this day, I don''t really know what it was all about. Whatever it was, she smiled at the man so I don''t think...It doesn''t matter.


    "I just saw red and when it was done, I had stabbed the man, a lot. When I looked up, I saw her just sitting there staring with that same smile on her face, just a little blood trickling from her neck. Then there was Portia, the real Portia.


    "I asked her if I did a good thing. I asked her if my father would be proud of me? I know that sounds unhinged. Maybe I was then... I think she made me tell her everything about me or maybe I did it on my own. She never spoke, she just stood there as she really is and I bared myself to her as I really was.


    "I''m better now, maybe not completely. I don''t think I ever will be but I''m happy here, in the dark. I feel good being a monster that hunts monsters with a monster. Outside of that first kill I''ve never done it for any other reason than it was needful. I''ll never kill a child, even for sacrament, but for everyone else? I''ll answer the call."


    Venito sat on the chair next to Orison''s and compromised, "They don''t touch me, I don''t kill them. They don''t talk to me after I tell them to shove off, I don''t hurt them. That''ll go for everyone I don''t like. I think that''s the way an assassin should be anyway. We only have to take the call from the one who listens to the silence. We don''t even have one of those right now, so no worries."


    Orison said, "There''s this lady at..." he shared what he knew about the server who was a good listener. "I mean, I know there will be things you shouldn''t talk about but someone who will let you pour out some of your anxiety after helping you pop off some stress is a pretty good deal."


    Venito chuckled and said, "For a kid who''s lived in the woods for two years, you''re either a know-it-all book worm who gets really lucky with his guesses or a really fast learner. Both of those are annoying but I guess you''re all right." To accentuate his statement, he messed Orison''s hair up and then punched him in the arm with surprising controlled force considering the death hug from earlier.


    As if the punch had knocked a rusty cog loose, Orison had finally registered two pieces of information Venito had shared that made the color drain from his face.


    Turning to Venito, Orison asked, "House Riven had you for nearly two years, about the same time I was at the manor?"


    Venito shook his head and corrected, "They had me for two and a half. Half a year more than before father went missing. I didn''t talk much for a while. Made it easy on them to keep me a secret and make up lies. Come to think of it, other than sightings of him rolling through, you and your mom might have been the last people to have actually talked to him.


    "Between the time father''s wife accidentally set fire to the house, when I ran away, and the testimony of the orphanage director, it''s a blank spot too. Then again, it wasn''t a big thing for him to go missing for months at a time either. The first time I heard that, I fantasized it was because he was looking for me. I still do but I guess after tonight I can''t do that anymore. Knowing the truth makes me more relieved than I thought it would."


    Nodding mechanically, Orison asked, "What do you know about dragons? Like, when was the last one seen?"


    Venito looked at Orison oddly then shrugged and said, "I don''t know where THAT came from but... Maybe centuries ago? I''m not sure. If it weren''t for bits and pieces of the things scattered around private collections and the weird old guys at the Brow of the World, people would probably argue if they ever existed."


    Orison shakily said, "There''s a town a bit north of Whiteriver. You''d probably know it. It burned down I-I think."


    With a bit of worry in his eyes, Venito said, "Are you talking about Hogan, the place where the empire folks almost executed father? Everyone knows that story. The God''s Hammer faction razzed the place to the ground to save their leader. If they had any idea what father would go on to do, they would have let him die first.


    "Hey, I don''t mind going through stories about the old man or anything but you look like you''re going to get sick or something. Spill... I just told you my deepest darkest and now I feel like you just realized the sky''s falling and I''d really like to know why before I start getting nervous."


    Orison conjured some water to splash his face and said, "One more question. It''ll help me answer yours. What do you know about the elf cultist I killed? Not everything, just what he was doing near the manor."


    Venito scratched his head and said, "Every odd lunar month, on the first day of waning, the guy would row out on the lake and disappear for a week or so. The only accounting given was that the crazy b*****d would call the week he was gone first night, second night and so on. On the tenth of these so called nights, he was extra crazy and grabbed up his youngest slave to take with him. She came back alive the next day without him, talking about how he tried to summon a mad god and was stopped by you. That''s about it."


    Orison looked at Venito and said, "The only thing I stopped was her death. The ritual was only for nine ''nights''. For mom and me, it was only nine days. Eighteen months, probably more, were only nine f***ing days!... Your adopted mother didn''t burn down your house. It was atta- Hogan was attacked by- Father went to kill a f***ing-"


    The cold chills assaulted Orison wave after wave with the third nearly stopping his heart. Where he fell to the floor, he pounded with the side of his fist, hyperventilating. For reasons Orison could only guess, he had an induced panic attack that didn''t feel like it had anything to do with him on an emotional level.


    Venito laid Orison on the bench nearby. Returning with a cup of mead for Orison that the boy could barely hold with both hands much less drink, he said, "There were people who wanted to figure out what happened to father, people who had access to Eldritch Scripts. Two went crazy and one even died. From what I know, it''s not uncommon for people to get messed up from reading the scripts, something about the past and future not wanting to be read or some such. I don''t think I''ve ever heard of someone dying from it though. After this, I''m thinking it wasn''t the script that killed her. I think the lady tried to say what she figured out and died trying."


    Orison finally managed to take a sip from the cup and found mead to not be as cloyingly sweet as he imagined it would be. Focusing on safe thoughts was a way he had figured out a while before to shake off the chills faster.


    Orison said, "I don''t know how much you managed to get from what I said but if it was enough that trying to share it gives you the, uh, chills... Just think about random safe stuff. The more thoughts you put between you and what you weren''t supposed to think or say, the faster you bounce back... Sorry, I didn''t want to give you another problem, I just didn''t want you to be a mushroom like everyone else."


    Venito looked at Orison blandly and said, "Mushroom? I don''t think I catch the reference."


    Orison said, "Kept in the dark and fed sh*t. It''s how the edible ones are cultivated. Actually, rotten wood... You know what, let''s not ruin a good metaphor with over explanation."


    Venito chuckled and said, "That''s not bad. I thi-"


    The teenager froze for a second before looking at one of the three bone rings on his hand that broke and said, "Opportunity... Portia must have stumbled on to something she didn''t want to walk away from. No worries, little brother. I have a way of getting you back. It''s just that I didn''t think I''d be needing to use it. Whatever big sis ran into, it must be pretty good for her to give me the go ahead. She''s pretty stingy about it."


    With the momentum broken, the two brothers winded back down to silence. Though it wasn''t quite as awkward as before, both of them were people of action and burning time wasn''t something either of them seemed to take well.


    Taking the initiative, Venito led Orison to a hidden room with complex glowing geometries and said, "Well, this was a lot more eventful than I thought it would be... Couple of rough spots there but I''m glad we did this... Give me a couple of days to put all the information we''ve gathered together and I''ll drop it off when I can. Since the ambassador who was supposed to be handling your business is no longer capable, hehe, it''ll probably take some time for Centerland to appoint someone else. If it gets annoying at the inn, you can stay at my place... Take this letter to Lyra and she''ll handle the rest."


    Orison looked at the spell model inlaid into the floor, attempting to burn it into his vision and said, "Where will this send me?"


    Venito snorted and said, "Why ruin the surprise? Alright, alright! It''s inside a well not too far from the inn. There''s a loose brick in the southern most part that will open a walkway to a sewer grate. Hold your nose if you''re sensitive to smells after opening the well wall. It''s not exactly pleasant back there... If I catch the drunk who keeps using the grate as a latrine, I''m going to string his guts on the tavern sign."


    Apparently keen on not wasting anymore time, Venito pulled out a bone with writing and deep red crystalline structures running over it. After placing it into an ornate metal box with familiar icy blue chip inlays, he rotated a bar that connected the box to the complex magic circle. Orison''s last view of his smirking brother was washed away in azure and indigo streaks.


    Once the light show cleared from his vision, Orison found himself staring at a slimy moss covered, gray stone and mortar wall. Taking a moment to steady himself, he looked down to to see a fancily designed metal grate with a hole large enough for a bucket to fit through. Looking up, he saw a matching one far above him.


    Nearly five feet above his head, Orison saw the signs of a relatively fresh water mark and thought, "Using this thing during spring must be an exercise in underwater survival."


    After taking note of the spell pattern cleverly hidden within the two grates, seeing nothing else worthwhile, He started fumbling along the southern wall for the loose stone mechanism trigger. Unable to easily see in the scant lighting provided by a waning moon under partial cloud cover or feel his way through the growth on the wall, Orison risked a use of Candle Flame. Before he could return to his task, a faint gold glimmer caught his eye.

 14 OEW

    As Orison bent down to inspect the golden glimmer, a faint ringing similar to but not quite like a flicked coin filled his ears. Picking up the patina encrusted ring his sight had led him to, a dim colored light filtered down into the well from an illusory looking rust tainted moon. Looking up at the faintly ominous celestial body, the ringing in his ears split into a multitude of staggering copies of his own voice wishing for things. The strongest and clearest of those being ''I just wish some of this s*** worked the way it did in the game''.


    A faint memory of downloading a couple of choice DLCs, of messing around with some of the tamer and extensively tested mods, flickered through Orison''s head. He took in the slightly translucent bedroll, loose coins and various containers before his vision settled on a chest. A faint echo of ''and the crap I stored in the chests, for instance,'' rattled around before his environment settled into silence once more.


    A familiar, barely felt tingle signified the presence of alien energy Orison hadn''t sensed in some time. Unlike before, it was woven into the fairy gift style glamour around him. It was also unraveling at the edges as it was being slowly drawn into him. An intuition brought clarity that if he interacted with an object, desired it, the energy would focus on it, drawing substance from the other items to make it real. If he did nothing, then the energy would be absorbed by the interwoven directives that existed within him.


    It wasn''t clear to him in any meaningful way, just how much benefit compared to value lied in a gold coin versus the energy used to make one real. What he did know was that this ''place'' was once used by him as a crafting supply dump. It didn''t escape his notice that among all the useful things he would soon be making hard choices about, not a single trace of dragon material could be found.


    From previous experience, Orison knew that the miasma itself was nearly infinitely malleable but the closer to real world logic that was applied in it''s usage, the more efficient it was spent. This particular collection of it was already woven into a previous structure so he had to be even more careful or this opportunity would not reap him nearly as much benefit as it could. Worse, there were a few items that flickered unstably which seemed to suggest they could be used but not made real and taken, like a set of equipment that boosted the potency of potions made while wearing them.


    Giggling like a madman, he reached for an alchemy ingredient and stopped himself. Reason and prudence interjected long enough for Orison to realized if he started making potions first, he would give up on everything else. Briefly he pondered about how much more he valued the skill after finding himself in this world as he sifted through ores and leathers for whatever more meaningful goodies he could find.


    Recognizing the need to understand the energy further, now that there was the possibility of running into it again, Orison locked in three items and a dozen potions that were essential in his mind. Making an inner determination to resist the temptation to make as many potions as he could, he promised himself to stop at that if what remain was roughly equal to less than half the total.


    The first item, a spare ring of carry, was instantly absorbed by his space as soon as he focused on solidifying it. The conversion wasn''t even close to equal but his knowledge of the enchantment model became exponentially clearer. After checking his leather gauntlets to find that it''s enchantment was still intact, he slowly exhaled in relief.


    The next item was a bit of an oddball for choice but undeniably the most practical item aside from any potion that saved a life, in his mind. It was a book that taught Lock/Unlock. Unfortunately, while learning it there was some kind of dissonance. By the time whatever metaphysics governed what was happening ironed out the kinks, it downgraded into a persistent spell that was essentially a finesse application of kinetics with magnetism elements.


    After interacting with his first two choices, the third didn''t seem as appealing but he decided to push through with it anyway. Orison figured it would either be one of the most amazing finds or absolutely worthless. The object was a tome of Find Objective.


    In the game, Orison had purchased the spell contained within it long before he found the tome. While pecking for iron ore in a mine not too far away, he had picked it up offhandedly and had apparently dumped it in this chest along with said ore. If it worked in a literal way it would have no use at all as there was no UI that kept track of given quests but if it translated more figuratively there was a possibility of it turning into the spell equivalency of a compass of the heart''s desires with endless usefulness.


    Orison felt energy rush into the tome and make it substantial. He took a deep breath with a silent entreaty for at least some benefit and opened it. Mysterious imagery leaped from the pages dropping deep into his mind with nary a ripple. There wasn''t a new spell model or anything. Experimentally he focused on the location of Droya, nothing. He thought of the location of an ancient elven ruins, nothing.


    Sighing, he turned to the multiple divided stacks of ingredients. Stripping down, Orison dressed himself in the translucent garb feeling somewhere in between the main character for Emperor''s New Clothes and a cheeky cosplay attempt to represent mid magical clothing transformation. With a thought of thankfulness for it being early summer, he began cheat brewing.


    Orison mumbled to himself, "Best magic user potions? Yes, please. No telling mom that the main ingredient is an illegal drug. She''ll confiscate them... More Best HE, hehe. Too dark, too soon. The image of a Bastet guy dragging his mutilated torso to a healing potion is just, uhg... Moar cure disease with stamina kicker! Oh young hero, thank you for saving my father from the blight but your potion is too stronk. he''s trying to Dougie in the kitchen!... Teach me how to- Now that song''s stuck in my head.


    By the time he had finished, only about a third of the well still showed illusory scenery and he found the need to speedily dress as his ghostly garb turned into wispy bits that sunk into his skin. With nothing better to do, he sat down and closed his eyes to try and figure out what the miasma was doing. It took some effort but he finally was able to follow the weak track of it''s traveling.


    His space was taking the lion''s share, growing at a glacier pace. A second trail was sinking into his marrow and distributing through his body via bloodstream. Realizing that this path was strengthening his open-ended longevity wish and fearing years of munchkin status, Orison experimented with willing it to allow maturity growth under the auspice that longevity also carried with it the implication of survivability, something much more easily accomplished with a fully grown form.


    He felt his blood grow sluggish before his heart rate suddenly accelerated. The unraveling miasma trickling in began dispersing into him more evenly and working at a level he couldn''t observe. A slight itching sensation started spreading over him as the added directive was integrated. With a sinking feeling, Orison realized that his lifespan was continually increasing, who knew by how much, but without additional miasma to stimulate maturity he had no idea how long it would take. Worse, only an infinitesimal part of the total would go towards that goal while the rest would just go towards pseudo biological immortality.


    Desperately, he tried to grab the two other streams with a force of will to facilitate a growth spurt but was thwarted as the energy already had its directive and no longer answered to him. Slumping in self pity, Orison observed the final split of miasma caressing the latticework that grew from his space''s soul juicing effect. The energy was more intimately merging the delicate and complex connections to the point were they gradually started disappearing from his vision.


    Getting the impression that trying to observe the improvement of the latticework''s benefits to himself was the metaphysical equivalency to watching grass grow, Orison opened his eyes. Down to the last shadowy tendrils of phantom imagery, he started wondering how long, if ever, it would be before he could find more. Finding this supernatural fortune made him aware of an inherent problem that hadn''t even crossed his mind until after he had the meeting with his brother.


    Finding out that he and his mother had been cut from the flow of time was disturbing but ultimately a couple of years was no big deal. That was especially true of himself because the orphanage didn''t even know how old he was. The childish impulse to wish for a ''long life'', however, had bought him a much more sticky problem. There were only two possible solutions and ''wait it out'' had some significant flaws.


    On a subconscious level, Orison already knew that the alien energy had made some pretty big changes to him internally. Now he was aware that it wasn''t just his musculature and resistance to external influences that were observable. He would have to find the additional bits his first poorly worded working of will upon the miasma had produced, within a time limit, if he wanted to at least appear to age naturally. Additionally, every one he found would make the next find more crucial until a certain tipping point had been reached. He had to become powerful enough that it didn''t matter or he had to reach a point of maturity he could use external things to make up the difference. The alien energy could help him with both.


    After having devised a few different ways to buy himself a couple of years or more without eliciting too much notice, his panic dropped immensely but his desire to find more of the miasma only grew. As the last tendril absorbed into him, a weird heat and pressure sensation built up between his brows. A flash of imagery similar but subtly different from what he saw when he opened the Find Objective tome appeared in his mind''s eye before he was swarmed by a spherical cosmos of multi-colored lights.


    The sphere kept growing outward and the lights moved further and further apart as he was drawn to a specific spot on the sphere that winked out as soon as he felt that the initial image had reached a hypothetical world size. Intuitively, he understood that light to be his current location and it''s disappearance due to the alien energy being gone. Playing around with the new ability, he discovered that he wasn''t able to elicit another visual but he could intensify sensations it produced by feeding steady drops of magic. The only discernible sources of ''higher tier energy'' he could currently sense came from a nearby temple and someplace within Whiteriver keep. Both carried unfamiliar ''flavors''.


    After having spent so much time in the well, Orison knew that dawn couldn''t be too far away. And if he didn''t make himself visible before someone came looking for him, he had no idea the trouble it would cause. He also didn''t want to find out.


    As careful as he had been to make his way out of the septic passage and attempt to cross the street a bit south of the inn, Orison felt eyes on him. Looking to his right, a dark silhouette briefly revealed a faintly feminine visage to the dull orange glow of a tobacco pipe, close enough to see him but far enough away that approaching without reason would be strange. Quickly concocting a story, Orison headed in her direction instead of the inn.


    "Sorry for slinking around at such an inappropriate time of the morning but I couldn''t sleep. The good news is that I found something somebody''s probably been missing for awhile. Maybe you know who it belongs to?" Orison said as he approached the woman standing at the front porch of the town smithy.


    Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a patina encrusted gold ring. Looking back up at her as he raised it where she could see in the predawn light, he registered the sheathing of a shortsword that was mere moments from becoming acquainted with him. What disturbed him most was that he hadn''t so much as heard it leave or enter it''s sheath, much less have a chance to react.


    "I-I''m sorry? I didn''t mean to startle you. I just thought it would be better to say hello instead of pretending I didn''t see you and leave it to your imagination what I was up to," Orison said, giving his best petulant child impression.


    The lady snorted and said, "Didn''t startle me. I saw you coming, boy. But tell me, would you take chances if a kid with glowing eyes walked over to you before the sun was up proper and wanted to show you what was in his pocket?... Don''t look so damn awkward. Let me guess. Life Sense? I know it isn''t Night Vision. I''ve seen that plenty and it doesn''t glow, it shines like cat folk eyes."


    Orison said wryly, "Something like that. Does this ring look fam-"


    The lady clucked her tongue and interrupted with, "Typical. Act all mysterious and then change the subject. Since you''re picking up all the worst habits spell slingers have at such an early age, I want you to keep one thing in mind. Once you''ve finished using your handful of fancy ways to murder things, you become a straw man stuffed with good loot. A real warrior can cast ''f*** you up'' all day long."


    Orison smiled bitterly and said, "If I didn''t know any better, I''d think a friend I made and lost came back from the dead as a woman, if only just to prove that he would always be a better man than me even without the equipment."


    Volta''s eyes turned frosty for a moment before her expression softened and she said, "So you know I''m Hvass'' sister?... In the eyes of those who knew and loved him, he WILL always be a better man than you because he''s the reason you get a chance to be one. Do yourself a favor and never compete with the dead. You''ll never lose but you''ll never win either."


    At a loss for words, Orison cleaned and mended the ring before handing it to her. Looking as if she needed a moment to get her emotions under control before she was ready to speak again, she looked over the ring with an intensity it likely didn''t warrant.


    Stuffing the ring into her pocket, she cleared her throat and said, "Let''s get you back to the inn. After yesterday, most folks around here don''t think poorly of you but there''s always a hothead or two that won''t let a sleeping dog alone."


    During the short walk, Volta assured Orison that she''d give a good try at finding the ring''s owner after she was finished ''slaying the gold hording dragon''. It would take a couple of days for her to go over the treasurer''s record books thoroughly and she was intent to get the survivors every copper she could. Although she said it with a threatening tone as if she was going to fleece him, in her own way, Volta was assuring Orison that she would make sure he got all his due inheritance.


    Before she left for the keep, Volta kept Orison company over breakfast. She regaled him with stories about her brother and ''Chuckles'', letting him take a peek past the mask they wore for the world. Lastly, as she stood to take her leave, she told him to never forget them. Intentionally or not, Orison was a part of the legacy these men left behind and part of the good or bad he accomplished in his life belonged to them.


    He didn''t fully agree but he would never nitpick with this woman who lost her brother and he did believe he owed them some gratitude. The worth of that gratitude would be determined by Volta''s efforts.

 15 OEW

    No sooner had Volta left, Droya came bolting down the stairs with a yawning Gan trailing behind her. Upon seeing Orison shoveling the last bits of food from his plate into his face, the edge immediately left her demeanor. Taking a deep breath, she finished walking down the stairs and joined Orison for some breakfast. After they were finished, which took Orison three plates until he was satisfied, he invited Droya back upstairs to discuss some things with her.


    "Mom, before I start, I need to ask you something. As best you can recall, how long were we at the manor before you came home to the smithy shed being blown up?" Orison looked at his mother intently.


    Droya smoothed a clawed hand down the back of her head and replied, "Three weeks plus or minus two days depending on what counts. Why?"


    Orison said, "Don''t tell anyone that. We were at the manor for almost two years by other people''s understanding. Whatever the cultist was doing it warped the passage of time around the manor. It probably won''t be a big deal if someone found out but it would invite a lot of questions."


    Droya sat down as if someone had punched her in the gut and said, "Originally I was going to leave the house a couple of days earlier but bagged that deer in the back yard. Would I have been kept from coming back or something?"


    Orison speculated, "I think if there was enough reason to come to the manor or leave, the person would just be affected by the time difference. Judging by the lack of visitors or messages during that time, I would guess that there were other effects of the ritual as well but there''s no way of knowing for sure."


    Droya rested her head in her hands and muffled out, "Two years. He''s been gone for two years. For me, it''s been a couple of weeks but everyone else has..."


    Orison rubbed her back and said, "Grief, much like time, is subjective. Some people never get over losing someone while some are able to move on with their lives in days. Some of that has to do with depth of feeling but people are put together differently. Mom, you do you. If anyone wants to run their gob at you for too little this or too much that on things that are none of their business, I''ll give them another helping of what I gave that legate."


    Droya huffed like she was pushing the bad feelings out of her chest by force of will, stood up and said, "I can take care of my own fights, little cub. The last thing I want is you picking them. I like the calm you that plans and follows through, I''m starting to worry that hot head streak you have is going to get wider than your better side can handle."


    A deeper part of Orison felt hurt that the feelings which prompted his outbursts came from genuine care and she seemed to disdain them. The foremost part understood that Droya didn''t hate his concern on her behalf but feared it would cause him to be hurt in a more physical way. Sharing that, the sharp pain in his heart lowered to a dull echo of it''s former intensity. As much as he just wanted to forget it and move on, there was a small thorn of jealousy that now lied between one of his sides to the other and that was dangerous.


    Orison looked at Droya and said, "Well I''m going to be unreasonable for a moment, so bear with me. Because I care about you, if someone gets belligerent with you, I''m going to get mad. If they try to hurt you, I reserve the right to hurt them. My feelings, all of them, are me. There is no better or worse half, there''s just me.


    "Of all the things I concede as you''re right because you are my mother, this is the one I won''t. Either accept or reject the whole thing. Like or dislike the things I do or say as you see fit. Guide me as you see fit but don''t ever judge me in parts. It hurts me a lot worse than you can imagine."


    For a moment, Droya ears flattened in embarrassed anger but looking at Orison''s vulnerable eyes, she deflated and said, "I don''t want you throwing yourself into danger. I realize there has been more than once... I was supposed to protect you. Defending us from that ugliness was supposed to be my job.


    "Your job was supposed to be playing and getting into mischief every once and awhile. You would do a few chores. I''d set some things for you to study, help you find what you were good at and get you ready for your future... Somewhere along the way it all got twisted up. You''re so driven and self-sufficient that sometimes I don''t really feel like I''m that useful or even needed. I think my broken expectations and pride got the best of me.


    "I''m glad you care enough to get angry for me but I''m scared you''re going to get hurt. I''m worried about what that anger could turn into. Would you beat up a man just because he flirted with me? One day, when I''m ready to move on, would that anger turn on me?... I want to be your mother but I''ll want other things too. Will that make you hate me?"


    Orison sat down on the bed across from her and said, " Of course not. I''m lucky to have a mom like you and I know some day that there will be a man whose lucky to have a woman like you. I have no desire to hoard all your time, love and affection for myself... Okay, maybe a little bit but I''ll get over it. I want you to be happy too."


    Droya let out a relieved breath and said, "Bauldur would be proud of you. I mean about how mature and considerate you are. I honestly don''t know how he feels about the idea of his wife, well, moving on. It''s not something we''ve ever talked about."


    Gears ground to a halt in Orison''s brain as he said, "Who?"


    Droya looked at Orison peculiarly. "Your father. The man who...Why do you looked so surprised?"


    Orison quickly buried the complex feelings he was experiencing before they showed on his perplexed face.


    He chuckled lamely and said, "Ah, I just didn''t hear his name often since almost everyone just calls him hero or Dragonblood... What do you know about father? I mean the early stuff, before he was a hero."


    Droya said, "I don''t think there are that many people who know much about it. He wasn''t exactly a talker. I do know that he was born in Fall Creek because of the marriage and adoption paperwork. He''d just turn thirty-nine, if he was still... I mean fourty? Fourty-one?"


    Orison said, "Let''s not think much about the timey wimey stuff. As far as you know, does he have any living family?"


    Droya shook her head and said, "Not close ones, he''s an orphan too. I think that''s why he was alright with adopting rather than trying to have children of his own. We should visit his parents'' tomb sometime. I''m sure House Rettr wouldn''t give us any trouble, if only to live up to their name. They sure didn''t hesitate to claim the rights to house your father''s memorial there... I still don''t understand why no one stepped forward to care for him. They claim he was wild and ran away at thirteen but I don''t buy it."


    Orison thought to himself, "The more I find out the more things don''t line up with what I expect. How much of this is higher power overwrite and how much of it is conflict between real world and the story of the game. The hero''s actions and my character''s actions are too lined up to be coincidence but too far apart to say they are one and the same either.


    "Under any other circumstance I''d have thrown up my hands and declared I had no more f***s to give. My field of f***s is now barren. If I pursue, I get answers and possible advantages but might have a head-on collision with reality laws and die. If I don''t, things are easier but theoretical manipulators can screw with me and I might fall into a reality law trap and die... Middle ground I guess. Take what I can get for now and bide my time."


    Switching to safer topics, the two chatted for a bit but Orison couldn''t recall much of the conversation because he had fallen to sleep in the middle of it.


    ***


    Fearing that Orison would get his days and nights mixed up and not wanting him to miss an opportunity, Droya woke him up an hour before midday. Bleary eyed, Orison slipped his boots on that Droya had kindly removed so he wouldn''t dirty up the bed. Looking around to locate the the source of a person''s polite coughs, he finally caught sight of a robed man. After the extra second his foggy mind needed to make the connection, Orison realized he was looking at the Whiteriver court mage, Gerrald.


    Orison wiped the sleep from his eyes and supressed a yawn, gesturing for the mage to have a seat as he said, "I apologize for greeting you under such circumstances. I''m afraid my journey to and arrival at Whiteriver was eventful. The bulk of which seems to have caught up with me today."


    With a look of dramatic surprise, Gerrald said, "Oh? I just thought you were a typical spoiled and self indulgent ten year old... I jest but that look of righteous indignation... It will be a wondrous day if Journeyman Mage Therridel manages to rework the Transcribe model to capture portraits as he said it can. No more of a delightful Master''s test has been approved, in my humble opinion."


    Thoughtlessly, Orison opined in his half awake state, "It would likely be a breeze as long as he realizes that these spells are too rigidly classified. Like the abyss, is Transcribe an illusion spell. It''s a novice mystic''s art meditation exercise translated to a physical medium with a mixed evocation model..." Backpedaling, Orison added lamely, " I-I mean maybe. Mysticism isn''t related to magic at all, hahaha."


    Gerrald laughed and said, "I''m no longer the stodgy academic mage I once was. I know where the connections are. Apparently you do too but if you value your autonomy, I''d suggest you keep it to yourself. On the surface, at least, novices are discouraged to pursue mysticism as it has often led to tragedy. Drug addiction, mind and spirit damage are a few examples. Dismissal of it does lead to the step between journeyman and master being a difficult one but overcoming that difficulty through dry analysis rather than shamanistic or theocratic approaches is what sets them apart from said shamans and priests."


    Giving a brief nod of appreciation to Gerrald''s open-mindedness Orison tentatively added, "Given that, I''m sure there''s a way for academic mages to couch the next logical step of Transcribe to an Apprentice spell capable of doing a simpler version of what Journeyman Therridel is attempting to accomplish. The making of such a spell would greatly assist with cartography and the creation of more accurate literature for alchemists and non-mage medical practitioners. That''s not even counting how it would completely remove the need for an enchanter''s workbench for novice and apprentice grade scrolls, for even the shakiest of hands."


    Gerrald sighed and said, "It has existed I''m sure. Care to guess what happened to it? Don''t bother. An entire line of master and apprentice lineage wasted away due to the allure of easily accrued money through scroll creation, destroying their growth potential one roll of vellum at a time."


    As Orison pretended to absorb the horror of such an easily created tragedy, he thought to himself, "Maybe for others. I could really use that damn spell though."


    As a rebuttal, Orison said, "What Therridel is doing would create the same scenario for journeyman mages, would it not?"


    Gerrald nodded and said, "Indeed but if a mage hasn''t learned enough discipline to forgo easy gains for more substantial ones by the time they are a journeyman, earning mastery of a school was likely a fanciful dream. In turn, all the benefits you mentioned before will still become available, if a great deal more costly. And instead of trading youth with a potentially bright future for it, we eliminate undisciplined journeymen whose road of attainment was drawing to a close anyway.


    "As delightful as this is- I mean that sincerely. Intellectual discourse isn''t what brought me here today. Firstly, thank you for an opportunity to fleece Centerland coffers. Facilitating missives earned me quite the addition to my personal materials budget. Secondly, I brought this tool here. Yes, I know a gem encrusted rod isn''t impressive aside to an impoverished person but believe me. It is quite valuable.


    "In essence, I have been requested to test your aptitude by both the Centerland Empire and the academy at Fort Frost. You can take this as seriously or whimsical as you like but the test is simple. You merely need to don the shift I will provide, free of all jewelry or additional apparel, then pour as much magic as you can into the tool within a ten count. Afterwards, I will turn over this egg timer and you will release your magic into the tool until the egg timer runs out of sand."


    Curious about how he stacked up and unafraid of private actions since he was thrust so thoroughly into the limelight, Orison took the test very seriously. The two additional tests done by one of Gerrald''s personal spells and another from a scroll, however, had Orison nervous.


    Affecting dramatic sorrow, Orison asked, "What''s the prognosis? Am I going to live?"


    With some complex emotion in his eyes, lending a false air to his jovial laugh, Gerrald said, "A reserves magnitude of 2.52 and a channel magnitude of 1.16 puts you well above average but not exceptional... If you were a talent of fifteen to twenty with classical training, that is. In layman''s terms, the average for all talents throughout Amoril created the one and one base as of about seventy years ago.


    "The lowest talent for consideration to an academy is minimum RM .5 with at least a CM of 1.05 or a minimum of CM .95 with at least an RM of 1.5. That standard has to be achieved before the prospective student is over the age of twenty. To be considered for scholarship, the lowest range at fifteen is RM 2.0/CM 1.2 and RM 2.2/CM 1.18 with a variance depending on age. Twelve is the youngest one can apply with an adjustment of RM -.6/CM -.3... For giggles, at twenty you get a variance of RM +.8/Cm +.4


    "Lots of math just to let you know that as long as you don''t damage your magic reserves and channels or somehow manage to overdraft your spiritual essence greater than you can recover in a year and a half, you can apply for scholarship. That''s if you''re lazy as a slaughter pig. With actual effort, it wouldn''t be impossible for an archmage to accept you as a disciple but let me warn you, that''s a mixed blessing at best."


    Orison frowned and said, "All of that and I haven''t heard a word of academic achievement or scholarly talent being a consideration for a ''scholar''-ship.


    Gerrald''s eyes narrowed at Orison and said, "That''s what you need to stay. Few who meet the standard seem to have that problem beyond those who wish to continue past year six, dual discipline journeyman. More often than not, the dropouts are from the lower end of the paid enrollment pool... No offense but that''s a rich objection from someone who''s, at the very least, recently taken an eternium crystal empowered elixer. I wouldn''t even be surprised if you told me your father found a Delver ruin with a working baptism chamber considering how attuned and untangled your channels are."


    Completely poleaxed, Orison could only say, "What?"


    Looking at the boy with wistful envy, Gerrald tapped Orison''s forehead and said, "Ocular luminosity is a dead giveaway. Once in a great while, a high or ''gold'' elf might awaken a natural eye glow but there hasn''t been a Highlander awaken that in nearly 200 years and he was an archmage. Behind the scenes, I''d not be surprised if those cases were from taking a different kind of eternium crystal based elixir centered around prolonging life, one time too many.


    "You don''t look keen on admitting it but that''s fine. The academies don''t really care how you reach the requirements. If you had the resources that''s part of your good fortune. I would suggest you not take any more, though. They''ll affect your mental health. Besides, if you build up a resistance to them now, you won''t be able to use them to prolong your life later."


    Gerrald got up to leave but he didn''t get far before Orison said, "Wait... Cure Poison, Cure Disease and a battle conjuration at apprentice or higher. The conjuration is a must but I''ll accept 500 gold in replacement for cure poison model and a thousand for Cure Disease."


    Gerrald turned around with a half amused and half skeptical look on his face as he said, "Is it possible my warning came too late?"


    Orison had weighed the risk in his head. The man already thought he might possibly have eternium crystal in one form or another and even wildly guessed at a possibility Orison may have a faint chance of knowing the location of a priceless piece of equipment but asked no questions.


    Orison pulled out the eternium shard that was about a third the size of either of the other two, the one Droya found on the dead Ashlander.


    Upon seeing the shard, Gerrald''s pupils shrunk. As he reached for it, Orison willed it back in to his storage. A spell model appeared around the mage''s eyes and after looking around the room and Orison in detail, he sighed and sat back down.

 16 OEW

    "Do you want to test my integrity that much, Orison Cantrip?" Gerrald said grumpily.


    Orison smiled and said, "Not at all. You''ve heard what I want. How close can you fill it?"


    Gerrald said, "Aren''t you asking a bit much of what that little chip is worth."


    Orison smiled wider and said, "My mother was raised the daughter of a merchant. I could get her to work it out so it''s fair but I''d rather be discreet about this. In all honesty, the real value of these things is usually more based off the need of the moment as they don''t actually have a fixed value. The post script in ''The Magic Crystal Wars'' placed the last auction around fifty years ago, for a piece not much larger than the one I showed you. It sold for over 7000 go-"


    Gerrald waved his hand and said dryly, "Enough. You''re well read, woohoo. The Cure Poison I can get. I happen to have a summon wol-"


    Orison interrupted, "Don''t even finish that. I said apprentice or better. That part is seriously not negotiable."


    Gerrald said, "You''re insane if you think any mage is going to sell a war spell of any kind to a minor aside from a hedge witch or a cultist and good luck with that."


    Orison gritted his teeth in annoyance and said, "Then let me ask you this. What are the chances of The Empire sending my mother and I to play glorified postal workers in a contested zone?"


    Gerrald''s brows furrowed then sighed and said, "More of a certainty than a chance. For whatever reason, even though the legate took some liberties with your paperwork, that was not one of them. Alright, I see your point but you already have an Ashlander grimoire I assume. Using a Raise Dead spell might be a bad idea here but it''s common practice for dark elves. Why allow myself to be put under scrutiny if you go sideways with a war spell I gave you."


    Orison reined in his impatience and explained, "First off. We don''t talk about this deal after it''s done. That benefits both of us. Secondly, It''s also common knowledge that I killed a cultist. So if I end up with a spell I have to explain because it''s controlled or even contraband, I have a ready made excuse. Lastly, an apprentice or better battle conjuration spell model is the only way you are getting that shard. If I don''t feel like getting it, you could torture me, control my mind with magic or even rip my soul out and order me to hand it over and I could still refuse you. That''s not a boast."


    Gerrald smiled bitterly and said, "I don''t doubt you believe it but I''m... not going to go there. Earth or Fire Golem. Fire Golem is classic but overlaps with things you likely already have access to. Earth Golem is non-standard and heavily dependent on where it''s summoned in ability and usefulness but it makes for a lot better bodyguard and has better general utility. Best of all, if it gets traced back to me, I only get a slap on the wrist and a fine instead of possible loss of my court mage post."


    Orison said dryly, "Earth it is...And the rest?"


    Gerrald looked ready to banter then deflated and said, "Earth Golem, Cure Poison and 520 gold. Literally the best I can do shy of committing a crime unless you want to shake me down for silver and copper too. Leave an old man some dignity."


    Orison snorted and said, "I''ll consider the money you''re pretending not to have as a security deposit against that fine you spoke of and the rest as leaving you some dignity. Gods, I''m not cut out to be a merchant. I would be murdering a peer within a month if I had to do this for a living."


    The old court mage dashed out as if he was afraid Orison would change his mind or add more conditions. Less than it took to let out a stabilizing breath, Droya came into the room clucking her tongue.


    Orison looked at her with pleading eyes and said, "I know, mom. I didn''t even get half of what I could have value wise but he needed to get something out of it too. I don''t think he''ll be allowed to keep it. Call me paranoid but I think the Archmage in Fort Frost was watching us. Call me optimistic but he might be friendly."


    Droya shook her head and said, "Sweetling, I don''t think you made that bad of a deal. Well, you did but considering the difficulties between what you wanted and what you were selling, getting around the grounds of one-fifth it''s worth without future problems is roses in my book... You started a little low and caved too quickly on the gold. The mage''s pattern was too obvious in my eyes and you fought him to true compromise on your spells but he held double on his wealth. Alright, little cub. I can tell I''m losing you... So, what are your plans on the gold?"


    Orison said, "200 to Thorrinson, 150 to you, seventy to me and fifty to Gan."


    Droya smiled and said, "Gan''s joining our house and you have no pressing needs for that gold while we''re cooling heels. If time allows, and I think it will, lend your''s and Gan''s portion to me. On second thought, let him have twenty for now. He needs better equipment and I think he wanted to go somewhere if he had enough time."


    Orison said, "Okay, but while you''re sniffing after easy turnover I have a list of herbs and seeds that''ll be cheap here and ridiculous on Mortal Winds... for my alchemy."


    The excited Droya deflated a little and said, "And for a moment I thought our thoughts were aligned. How''s this? I won''t limit your access to the stock in any way but the less you use, the greater amount of the profit goes to your private fund. By the way, how are you justifying the 200 gold to Thorrinson?"


    Orison said, "Starter funds for his future school."


    Later on, after Orison was done stuffing his face extravagantly for the second time that day, Gerrald made his exchange with no fuss but looking for all the world as if he was suffering from the worst case of buyer''s remorse. As soon as the gold was placed before Orison, Droya heaved it up, slowly raised it and lowered it a couple of times before nodding her head at Orison. With a bitter smile, Orison watched Droya leave as quickly as Gerrald had earlier. As Gan walked past, pulling a small handcart, he looked towards Orison with a face that mirrored the boy''s own.


    "Don''t look at me like that. You''re the one who let Droya talk you into hitching your future prospects with ours. Still, if she didn''t I might have. An accomplished scout not attached to a house. No immediate family. Add in a debt of gratitude and some emotional blackmail I ''d never actually use unless you turned on me and you''re pretty much the perfect subordinate recruit for a new noble," Orison thought to himself.


    Since Droya took it upon herself to handle Thorrinson''s delivery, Orison decided to spend the rest of the day organizing his magic knowledge and known spells into his own grimoire. He had been absorbing new spell models at such a fast pace that his foundational understanding of them was crude and in some cases, no different from the spoon fed apprentices he had no desire to become.


    Over the next two days, aside from some missives and lesser court officials which Droya handled, Orison continued consolidating his previous magical acquisitions. Worried over his increased appetite, he set aside some time in the mornings and evenings to continue with Morrel''s training regime. Gan attempted to follow through imitation but quickly returned to his own familiar one with the exception of a morning run. A run Orison planned to keep Gan in charge of because he was a good pacer.


    On their fourth morning at the inn, Volta swung by to let the mother and son know that she had finished her accounting and to invite them to temple for a midday memorial service. Thinking it in poor taste not to attend when invited by the organizer in person, they dressed in their best and attended with Gan in tow. Orison was glad he or his mother weren''t called to speak but was surprised that when Gan was called, he was bluntly honest in his thought''s and feelings towards the two dead men. Some of which sounded only shy of hostile but there was only a silent appreciation for his words, sometimes even a murmur of agreement here and there.


    The small ceremony had reminded him just how much the Northland people appreciated honesty and sincerity over beautiful lies. It also gave him a chance to understand better the unique way Find Objective had translated to this world. Letting his magic slowly evaporate into the spreading field of this additional sense, he could feel a subtle but strong blanket of misty power.


    Unlike the alien energy he knew, it was peacefully at rest with a tang of promised violence to whatever would break that peace. It radiated the emotion of a grizzled veteran of war returning to the warm feelings of hearth and kin, relishing the glow of love and belonging before the horn of his lord would call him to war once more. Turning to the faceless warrior statue in the back that represented all who sat at the feasting hall within the land of souls, Orison drew the symbol of a hammer over his heart. Still facing the statue he thought of the two men who had died to the Ashlanders and their dead puppets, offered a silent thanks giving and bowed minutely to the statue. At that moment, two motes of force carrying Orison''s signature drifted from him and entered the statue. The misty blanket within the temple seemed to exclude him a little less after that.


    Solemn and contemplative, the three returned to the boisterous inn. Upon spotting Droya, a server informed her that a courier from the keep had stopped by. Reading the letter, they were informed that the inheritance issue was settled and the inn''s account with Whiteriver keep was closed, leaving them to fend for themselves as they waited for an acting Centerland legate to arrive from a fort four days travel away. As Droya took stock of the liquidated funds that she could pick up as early as the next day, Orison told her about the introduction letter his brother had given him to keep her from spending coin on the inn. They could obviously afford it but Orison was keen on checking out the Whiteriver home so he could compare it and it''s retainer to what he knew about the game.


    Droya said wryly, "There''s no real reason to impose. I figured you liked being chore-less and having food available at whim rather than having to adjust your schedule to meal times."


    Orison retorted, "Would you have me make a bad impression on my brother by completely dismissing his hospitality?Besides, mom, I figured you would like to save a few coins since you pinch coppers any other time."


    Droya purred, "You''re not too old for me to swat your tail for being cheeky, little cub. What about Gan?"


    Shifting from foot to foot nervously over to the side, Gan meekly chimed in, "I have the remaining coin from outfitting. I was thinking of renting a horse and making the trip I spoke of before. I''d be back in three days, if that''s alright?"


    Droya hemmed and hawed for a moment before agreeing to both requests.


    Standing in front of Venito''s house, Droya paused for a moment before turning to Orison and said, "I sorely dislike standing on someone''s doorstep like a stray. It''s not too late to ret-"


    Droya was interrupted by the opening of the door, revealing a lean and mature woman whose visage preserved a touch of youthful vigor. Orison''s first thought was that the game did not give this woman justice. Standing in a loose lace shirt and leggings, Lyra looked like a thirty-something Michelle Pfeiffer cast as a Valkyrie.


    Returning his jaw to the upright position, Orison handed Venito''s letter to Lyra with the reverence of a starstruck fan asking for an autograph.


    She winked at Lyra offhandedly and said, "Real gentleman, this one. Kept eye contact the whole time while he was drooling. Want to trade wards by any chance?"


    Droya ruffled Orison''s head affectionately and said, "Not a chance."


    After breaking open and skimming the letter for two seconds, Lyra snorted at something she read in the contents then invited them to come in.


    "Just got back from the mercenary guild hall here in town. Bought myself the right to use their facilities. I can''t even imagine what I''d look like after two years of sedentary life as a glorified house sitter without it... Well make yourselves at home. Let me give you the short but sweet tour," Lyra said before she whisked them through the quaint two story townhouse.


    When she was done, she turned to them and offered, "If it suits you, the boy can use the guest room I had converted from the old alchemy room. If you don''t mind, Droya, I''d prefer we shared the master bedroom bed instead of following the letter to the tee. That way if Arentus shows up one night, out of the blue as he is want to, he won''t try to use the excuse of no free beds to try and crawl into mine.


    "I swear, he''s far too fond of new lumps on his head. I''ve never considered hanging up my sword and shield as I have this last month. One of these days, he''s going to catch me drunk and lonely enough that I''m going to wake up with a b*****d in my belly if I''m not careful."


    Orison thought to himself, "Thanks for resisting the urge to cover my ears, mom. I''m already embarrassed enough."


    As the day dragged on into evening, two things became readily apparent about Lyra. As much as she badmouthed Venito, somehow the teenager had managed to charm her in his own irascible way. She was also nearly bored to insanity. That suited Orison just fine as Droya found herself pulled, pushed and cajoled into and out of nearly every place in Whiteriver worth being while he was left to study and review in peace.


    Over supper, delivered by arrangement from the inn, Droya showed some concern over Orison''s sudden dramatic increase in appetite. Lyra suggested that he was just hitting a ''growth season'' and to make sure he wasn''t to sedentary. After Droya explained that Orison didn''t even take off time for training while on the road, much less laze about, Lyra''s curiosity was peaked.


    "Lift that prissy robe up and let me see your bread basket. I don''t believe that a kid can be that self disciplined," Lyra slurred out, three mugs in.


    Orison looked to Droya for back up but she was looking into her own cup. Droya speak for ''not my problem''. Giving some payback for ignoring her plea earlier in the day was the likely motive.


    Red faced, Orison said, "I, uh, it''s been hot these last few days so I don''t have much on underneath."


    Lyra narrowed her eyes and said, "Listen. There isn''t anything you have that I haven''t seen less than, equal to or more of than you got. You afraid you turned into a dumpling?"


    Ears on fire, Orison lifted his robes keenly aware of a stare he couldn''t see and thought, "What kind of humiliation play is this?"


    Lyra chuckled and said, "Now why would you take a grease pencil to such pretty skin... Droya, these boys will pull all kinds of stunts to get out of pro-"


    At the moment Orison felt a slender calloused hand slap his stomach, Lyra''s voice just on the other side of the robe he was covering his face with, cut off. An astonished laugh was accompanied by a ticklish inspection which would have been somewhat exciting under other circumstances but felt more like ''bad touch'' when paired with the earlier induced embarrassment.


    To end the groping and cover the exaggerated negative feelings, Orison jumped away dramatically and comically covered himself after dropping the hem of his robe, then said, "Desist, unprincipled rogue!" Humorous falsetto cracking under real duress.


    Making her way back to her chair, Lyra said, "Wouldn''t have believed it except I saw it with my own eyes. Subtle signs of heart warrior training. Could have been a younger version of my grandfather with your face covered up. Who did you train under?"


    Droya, finally moved to some pity answered for him with, "Morrel, our steward, came from the vale."


    Lyra nodded, "Must have moved him well to have him offer your boy that training."


    Droya smiled and said, "Orison freed him indirectly. He spent hours tapping holes in his face too."


    Lyra looked at Orison and said, "Your hand that steady? What was his evaluation of your work?"


    Orison mumbled more than said, "Passably well."


    Lyra slapped her thigh and said, "Freed him and restored his honor, so to speak. That would do it. I always wanted a piece to honor my grandfather."


    Orison nodded thoughtfully, "Then at the base of the spine for roots of the blood then. Did you inherit the skin of his clan mark or have a drawing of it?"


    Conversation rolled into evening and the day officially ended with a single two hour session where Orison solemnly gave Lyra a tribal ''tramp stamp''.


    Sadly, the next day did not go how Orison thought it would as Lyra dragged him off to compare training notes. Droya had a merchant introduction date, escorted by Volta and her husband, as the culprit behind Lyra''s change of boredom breaking buddy. Both mother and son barely got their worth out of the day before a summer storm had everyone home early. Lyra broke out a rare vintage, gently coaxing Droya deeper into a cup and secretly slipping some to Orison till all three of them were feeling more cheer than common sense. The last thing Orison remembered clearly was singing an alto version of ''Dig'', more to his subconscious self than anyone else. For a reason Orison couldn''t understand at the time, Droya started crying and turned into a hugging monster. Luckily, Lyra helped him out by replacing him as he slunk off to bed.

 17 OEW

    Waking up to the terrifying sensation of feeling like someone was hovering over him, Orison opened his eyes widely and almost wet himself. The only thing that kept him from screaming was the extra second it took for sleep paralysis to wear off. Recognizing that it was Venito that had nearly made him pee himself, half the terror instantly transmuted into anger. Seeing that Venito had a finger to his lips, Orison stifled the urge to throttle his brother as he sat up in the bed then slipped his robes and boots on with practiced efficiency.


    Both magically silenced, slipping quietly across the house and up the stairs was easy. Nearing the top, a shaft of clear moonlight allowed Orison to see just well enough to recognize the wretched look of lewdness on his brother''s face. Intuition telling him that whatever Venito was up to, it wasn''t something Orison wanted to be a part of, he followed anyway. After coming this far, Orison reasoned, he might as well find out what kind of mad he should be at his brother.


    It didn''t take long as Venito slunk closer to the master bedroom, from where Orison stood at the top of the stairs, the sound of moaning and other more visceral sounds could be heard. From his distance, Orison could see a pale figure with backside towards him, bent head first into a darker figure the weak moonlight couldn''t illuminate. A fact Orison was grateful for after registering what he was seeing as he turned around and went back downstairs.


    Nearly a quarter hour later, Venito walked back into the guest bedroom drying his hands on a towel. A faint scent of herbal soap wafting towards Orison that showed his brother to at least be fastidious after taking care of business. While putting the leather gauntlets back on, Venito subtly sneered at Orison.


    "I''m beginning to believe that you have more than ''zero'' reason to be concerned about your future happiness, little brother," Venito said.


    Orison snorted, "I''ll be the first to admit that Lyra is a stunning woman but did you forget that the other woman is my mother?"


    Suddenly thoughtful, Venito said, "Um, I guess. She didn''t give birth to you or anything and she''s, uh, respectfully speaking of course, an exotic kind of beautiful as well... I kind of noticed it before but did you know your eyes glow in the dark? Not strong but enough for someone with good eyes to pepper your face with arrows at a hundred paces in pitch black."


    Orison nodded and said, "An annoying quirk but not the biggest of my problems."


    Venito''s eyebrows raised as he said, "Not being able to hide without covering your eyes IS a problem. But tell me, what''s the bigger one?"


    Orison sighed and slumped onto the bed. "Conditional maturity... I have a long lifespan and without finding more of the weird stuff that did that to me, I don''t know how long it will take me to hit puberty much less ''man up''."


    Venito laughed dismissively. "Are you seriously complaining about living longer?"


    Suppressing annoyance, Orison said, "No. I''m b****ing about the possibility of being found out and turned into a mage''s lab rat test subject for a new type of longevity elixir... Just for the record, I doubt they''d find anything usable but since when have curious mages not been historically known for dismantling interesting things to figure out how they do what they do? I mean, it''s okay for a little while and I''ve gotten lucky once. It doesn''t feel like I''ll grow much but I should grow some.


    "I''m probably just being over sensitive about it but it still worries me a lot. I''m not exactly a person unknown but it wouldn''t be that hard to become one. It wouldn''t be fun but there are ways to make life doable. To put some of my concern in a way you can appreciate, how would it feel if you didn''t know how long it would take until you could ''enjoy'' a woman''s company. Add on that it could be years after starting to feel the need before a woman could take you seriously."


    The older teen said, "If I wasn''t worried she''d accidentally kill you, Portia could probably forcefully make you mature by using her blood magic as she fed on you. Not ideal but if you get desperate... I really think you''re having a big sweat over nothing. Just keep your mouth shut about it and let people talk themselves out of doing bad stuff and then kill the ones who fail. Honestly, it kind of comes across like a rich man complaining about his gold being too heavy or something."


    Orison rolled his eyes, "To a poor person, that does sound like backhanded humility but another rich person would understand that the man''s real worry is thieves... And before you go there, everyone has some greed to them. Obviously the man could dump some, in theory, to help protect the rest or give him a lighter load to run away but who wants to lose their stuff if they know there''s a way to keep it... You know what, you''re right. I''m probably sweating this for no reason. It''s just that, to survive up until now, paranoia''s been my best friend. It''s hard to give it up once it becomes a habit."


    Adopting a sage demeanor, Venito stroked his chin and said, "A piece of advice Portia handed to me, I now hand to you... The dark voice behind you can be useful as long as you never let it grow beyond a whisper."


    Orison chuckled a little forcefully and said, "And she would know. She literally has a dark voice that whispers behind her."


    Venito blinked in confusion.


    Orison prompted, "The deep abyssal sounding voice that talks with and sometimes for her?... Okay, you still look confused so you can ask her about it or pretend I didn''t say anything because I am, pretending that I didn''t say anything, I mean."


    Venito said, "Well, alright... Here''s a thought that might not have occurred to you. Since you act all accepting and whatnot but live like a temple acolyte, you''ve probably not thought to, you know, purposefully pop your own cork. You know, orcs encourage their boys to start tugging their twig and berries as soon as they understand words. The boys can reach full adult size by thirteen so... And there''s the look. I''m just saying."


    Orison sighed, "As weird and unwanted as that piece of racial knowledge is, there is a kind of logic behind it but can we please stop there?... Oh, I see. Did you go look for that intentionally as a tit-for-tat on the wood elf, two soul thing?"


    Venito said defensively, "You''re not the only one who knows how to read and what I found actually ended up being useful to you."


    Tilting his head back so he could look down his nose, Orison said, "But what was the original intent?"


    Smirking, Venito said, "I think you know, short-stack. Here I was, trying to play nice but if you won''t let me..."


    Venito lunged to put Orison in a choke hold. Taken off guard, Orison only had time to tuck his chin and turn to downgrade it into a head lock. While the older boy did his best to grate his younger brother bald with his knuckles, Orison successively cast Create Water and Degree Shift at Venito''s pants. A full second later, Venito had released him to dance a jig in an effort to get the thin layer of ice and frost from his sensitive bits.


    Orison crowed, "I''ve heard that occasionally applying ice can help a man increase his virility. See, it actually ended up being useful to you."


    From there, it was only a matter of course for the roughhousing to turn into a brawl. Despite their current antics, they were both trained and skillful enough to keep it in the bounds it was intended. Both of them knew what it was and by tacit understanding let it happen. Chances to capture a bit of what life and circumstance had stolen from them were more rare and valuable than gold to the two orphans who were forced into the ugliness of the world long before they should have.


    Coming out the worse for the exchange but understanding what was more important, Orison finished setting and healing Venito''s broken finger before healing his own bruises and scrapes. As much as they were enjoying themselves, the sound of a sharp snap was enough for them to both stop with the same suddenness that had started it. Two sets of disapproving eyes were watching from above but currently the brothers were surveying the disaster that they had caused with perverse satisfaction.


    Lyra growled, "It''s your house. Do what you want but don''t expect me to stay in it if I can''t get a good night''s sleep or it looks like a pig''s sty."


    Droya purred ominously, "We are guests. I don''t know what this was about but make it right... Before you go to bed!"


    Having said their piece, the two turned back towards the bedroom.


    Orison looked at Venito sheepishly and said, "You don''t think we interrupted them, do you?"


    Picking up the pieces of the busted chair that he had stumbled over and onto, Venito smirked, "Do you think I would have came down here for my lame little brother if there was still a show to watch?"


    Orison sighed and said, "Sometimes, the most important parts of a moment are what comes after it''s over." Looking around at the mess they had made, suddenly Orison felt less satisfied and more regretful as he got busy cleaning up.


    After giving some token assistance, Venito handed him a tied up roll of papers. The promised information was his real reason for showing up with the rest being just a pleasant surprise. After griping about what he might have missed waking up an unappreciative little brother, he prepared to leave. As a part of his farewells, Orison cautioned Venito about the presence of a werewolf pack in Whiteriver from a couple of clues that he had picked up while visiting the mercenary guild with Lyra. He also mentioned that Lyra was going stir crazy and if time and circumstance allowed, Venito should include her on some of his less sensitive ventures.


    The older brother told him that at the bottom of the stack of papers was a small map to a set of cabins in the woods, should the need arise. Venito promised to put some money back just in case Orison ''got tore up or went toe up''. He assured Orison that taking care of a hot, grieving mother would be no trouble at all. There was even room enough for a couple of servants and a house guard or two.


    Once Venito was gone, Orison poured over the papers. He wasn''t really surprised to see that if he was interested in seeking vengeance on the conspirators behind the attempt to rob him of land and other holdings he''d have to target nearly a fifth of the lower echelon patricians in the Centerlands. The initiative to send him and his mother to Mortal Winds was started by a family attempting to find a safer patrician assignment for their heir but the actual backing behind it''s approval went higher than the legate had privilege of knowing.


    On the surface, Droya and Orison represented a promotion of diversity acceptance. They were meant to be an image cleanup to soften the criticism that the empire had endured after a sweep of land and title reclamation became more thorough than it was supposed to be. Underneath that surface there were multiple factions with their own reasons to support such an unorthodox assignment. Some were easy to understand, such as the lack of desire to send a qualified legate to be a glorified postal worker in a political nightmare of bickering clans or a scapegoat to cover up past embezzlement. The most mysterious supporter came from the royal faction with no real way of knowing just who but that person specifically pushed forward the title heir of Baulder to take the assignment. And since that coincided so beautifully with most other power players desires, it became set.


    Most of the information Venito provided were irrelevant Northland negotiations but there were juicy pieces of gossip and records of underhanded dealings that Orison could make use of yet hoped he wouldn''t have to. Portia included an afterward that gave a general outline into the area around the peninsula where the Centerland Consulate had been constructed. There was also a point of contact location given for the purpose of keeping in touch with ''The Order'' which implied a desire on her part to feel out how much of a ''friend'' to it Orison may wish to become. It was a question he didn''t have an answer to, nor was he any closer two days later.

 18 OEW

    The previous two days were a blur of activity that had nothing to do with Orison. Lyra escorted Droya around to ply her merchant know-how, settle inheritance funds and finally to speak with the acting legate that had reached Whiteriver the day before. Being as he had assaulted the last legate he spoke to, Orison was not allowed to attend but Court Mage Gerrald assisted Droya with the negotiations on behalf of Lord Whiteriver as a part of that compromise.


    When Droya filled Orison in on the meeting contents later that afternoon, the piece of news that surprised him the most had nothing to do with information pertaining to himself at all. It was the geographical and geopolitical map. Over the decade that Ruby Mountain had been devastating the main island of the archipelago, Centerland and Emerald Vale had slowly gobbled up all the mainland and coastal water rights once held by the Ashland Kingdom under various, fairly legitimate means. Noble defection and the slow whittling away of holdings to procure aid and shelter for those who wished to remain autonomous had devastated the once wealthy and affluent kingdom. Even Summerland Domain had gotten in on the action via a mysterious eastern sea route to claim the westernmost island holdings separated from any military or financial assistance.


    As Orison stared at the world map in front of him, he suddenly felt like never before that this world was not a place he recognized. The Emerald Vale covered nearly the entire southwest corner of the super continent. Now that it had managed to snatch western coast regions, Centerland political boundaries made it look somewhat like a horizontally stretched and super sized Ohio. The Highland wasn''t overly different but the semi circle of mostly unlivable jutting islands and semi active sea volcanoes demarcating its north to eastern sea borders had turned it into a nearly subtropic land with a foggy and mysterious northern sea.


    The two that really made Orison baffled was the Redlands that lay like a fat comma with a trailing tail and it''s neighbor, The Marshlands. Together, the two created something that looked like a fancy, pancake house syrup bottle with a large thumb grip that created a southern sub-continental peninsula. Of note were the bottom half of the inland sea between the two called Terror Strait and a blob of land towards the bottom of The Marshlands called Dust Swamp nicknamed The Abyssal Empire. Those who had attempted to explore either area rarely returned and those who did, didn''t have anything unusual to say about it except those who returned from Dust Swamp tended to die from a strange wasting sickness whose symptoms made Orison think of cancer from radiation exposure.


    A large area of sea, demarcated on either side of the map by dotted lines, was referred to as The Veiled Sea. Over the years, many expeditions had been made into it but few had returned and the reports given varied widely. The only thing that seemed the same was that there was a large land mass there and even survivors of previous expeditions. Five such hardy survivors had even managed to return. Two were mentally disturbed after having spent decades practically alone and couldn''t give coherent testimony. The other three simply spoke of lands that didn''t match the other''s descriptions, from deadly disease infested jungle to barren and inhospitable canyons.


    Originally, when Orison had read about it in a history book at the manor he had considered the watery region to be the stomping grounds of a secret order. It took up nearly a third of the world, however, and could potentially hold land mass that wouldn''t be too shy of competing with the super continent he stood on. There were many questionable assumptions and poorly understood parts of the history books he read that made a great deal more sense after seeing the map.


    The resources, manpower and promised holdings Droya was informing him of became buzzing background noise in his head. Placing all the pieces together, Orison realized that the game he knew was little more than partially inspired by this world somehow. He began wondering if the small coincidences that had coerced him into believing the two more intimately connected could almost all be contributed with the cosmic scale sh**storm he was temporarily at the center of and his first poorly worded wish.


    Wherever he was heading for now, Orison knew he''d be returning to the Northlands someday. Intuition and reason both were telling him that a myriad of different answers he wanted and some he may not but needed, lied somewhere in this place. It was, after all, the place in the world that was least alien to him.


    "Little cub, are you even listening anymore? I know it''s a lot to take in and you have plenty of time to do it. Here, take the letter and official paperwork I don''t need to carry on me. They''re probably safest with you anyway," Droya said a little exasperated.


    Orison nodded absentmindedly and stowed them away in his space.


    Hesitant and a little worried, Droya said, " About last night. Did, uh, you fight with your brother over something I can help you understand?"


    The awkward conversation he''d been hoping he''d be able to avoid had pushed Orison from his morbid thoughts as he said, "It looked a lot worse than it actually was. In a weird way I think we were just trying a little too hard to make the sibling bond we have less technical, a little more real... About things that may or may not have happened that are not a son''s concern, if you''re happy then I''m happy for you."


    In a panicked voice, Droya said, "You know I loved your father and it was ju_"


    Playing up his age, Orison stuck fingers in his ears and made raspberry noises until her mouth stopped moving then said, "All I saw was a 2 second shot of a white backside before I hightailed downstairs. I will not speak of Venito do not ask of me that which I do not dare speak... I have no thoughts on it. I do not WANT to have thoughts on it. I fully support your right to enjoyment of life and the privacy with which to do so. In fact, the privacy is mandatory enforced to the degree of the power of which I am invested."


    Seeing the dubious and still anxious look on Droya''s face, Orison stood up and placed his hand over his heart then borrowing the wisdom of great past men said, "I hold these truths to be self evident, that all peoples are born with the inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. I have a dream that all peoples will one day be able to take for granted the right to life and liberty free of the shadow of fear. I hope and long for the day that all peoples will unite to insure that all have equal opportunity to the pursuit of happiness regardless of race, gender, nationality or any other difference of being, creed or thought that does not harm that equal opportunity."


    Lyra, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation said, "Wouldn''t it be simpler to say that all are born equal?"


    Orison sadly said, "We aren''t. Some are born healthy while others are born sick. Some are born with talent and others are born with disabilities. If we protect liberty and the pursuit of happiness, some will be born with the advantages their predecessors had earned them while others will be born with disadvantages. To say we are born equal gives those with advantage the ability to blame and ridicule the disadvantaged, as if they are responsible for how they are born. It also empowers the disadvantaged to justify stealing from those who have what they do not instead of striving for their own accomplishments."


    Lyra sighed wistfully, "I''d almost like ask what equal opportunity actually means and how you''d expect it to be insured but I''ve also been tempted to cut my own face up. I''ll resist for the same reason."


    Curious, Droya asked, "What reason is that?"


    Lyra smirked. "Some things are too painful to do to yourself... Still, that''s quite the ambition you have there, Orison."


    Orison looked at her wide eyed and said, "Ambition? I have a dream. And like all good dreams, you only share them with the people you love and trust then work for them silently."


    Lyra patted Droya''s shoulders and said, "I take back what I said before. I think both of us got the son of Baulder we were meant to have. At least the mischief Venito gets up to, I can see coming."


    Orison thought to himself, "I doubt that. I doubt that, so hard."


    ***


    Nearly another week went by as resources and people were gathered. Droya would begin the days determined and come back in the evening looking drained. When Morrel and Rithus arrived, it signaled the groups return to the inn for two days. Gan, who had returned two days earlier than the ex-slave pair, arrived more chipper than Orison had ever seen the scout but it didn''t take long for the new daily grind to return Gan to more comfortable stoniness.


    Morrel was the blessing that Droya needed badly as his flair for accounting and organization was unrivaled amid their group. Gan was more than ecstatic to leave daily mundane details to Rithus, who was spoiled for inactivity and longing for meaningful endeavor. It was a mixed blessing for Orison, however. The carefree days consolidating magic and studying the two crucial new models he traded for were over. Back were the days of splitting his time between arduous training and limited magical study time.


    When looking over their route, Orison was pleasantly surprised to discover that a majority of the Northland portion would retrace their steps back towards the manor they had once lived in. This stemmed from knowledge that Venito was planning on moving his main residence to said manor which meant that their trip would have the additional security and company of Lyra and two soldiers which accompanied Venito on his official duties. Lost in his own schedule, however, he failed to discover that Droya had made other plans for their personal travel.


    When the day of departure came, Orison was taken off guard when they headed toward Whiteriver Keep instead of going south with the rest. The lineup was even more bizarre. Aside from the mother-son pair there were Rithus and a Redlander centurion captain by the name of Nadir.


    Orison looked questioningly at Droya which prompted her to explain, "Sorry sweetling, I''ve been so busy that I forgot. There was a last minute change to plans. Due to the sudden loss of the consulate''s captain and post desertion of the last consul, Centerland has paid a hefty price to expedite our arrival. Aside from the two of us and Captain Nadir, I only had an opportunity for one more person and Morrel convinced me to bring Rithus as he''d take poorly to the cold exposure when they went through the mountain pass.


    Abashedly Rithus said, "Apologies for the inconvenience, Young Master Cantrip."


    Orison smiled and said, "It''s only been a couple of weeks, Rithus. Are you going to go back to that tired way of addressing me? You''re part of the family. There''s no real inconvenience." Extending a hand to the captain, Orison continued, " A pleasure to be working with you, captain."


    With a weary expression, Captain Nadir ignored Orison''s outstretched hand but crisply half bowed to him and said, "The pleasure is mine, I''m sure, Legate-in-training Cantrip."


    Ignoring the hint of frosty professionalism, Orison said cheekily, "And just when I thought the titles people called me couldn''t get more starched... Rithus, I apologize. Your way of address is far more pleasant to hear."


    Droya told the captain conspiratorially, "My little cub isn''t much for formality but he takes his responsibilities seriously. Truth is, you''ll find that outside of formal duties, finances and provisioning are what I''ll be in charge of. Orison here has already sketched out everything else. Don''t let his age fool you or you''ll find yourself completely danced around."


    As Nadir''s gaze shifted to cautionary curiosity, Orison said irritably, "What''s next, a warning label? My one and only advantage is surprise, you know."


    Droya chided, "Captain Nadir is overqualified and possesses an impeccable record of performance. We are lucky to have him. There''s no need for... any measures."


    Orison looked to Nadir and said, "Fellow victim of diversity initiatives?"


    Woodenly, Nadir said, "I''m proud to serve in any way my empire sees fit."


    Flippantly, Orison exclaimed, "Show a little of the white eyed wolf inside, Captain. Schemers don''t feel comfortable using those who hide their ambition too well and anyone with real power in Centerland is guaranteed to be one."


    In a warning tone, Droya said, "Orison."


    Covering his eyes with an arm, Orison said dramatically, "Such is the fate of a child of a widow. The first handsome man that comes along and all my appreciated wit is suddenly a shameful thing I must hide."


    Doya reached out and smacked the back of his head with enough force to make Orison''s vision blur for a moment. Through the misty eyes caused by his smarting scalp, Orison saw an amused smirk ghost across the captain''s face.


    Later, while the three household members waited for the transportation specialist mage to arrive and the captain was in communication with the temporary legate turned consul, Droya fumed, "What''s gotten into you today!? It may not have been the most embarrassing moment of my life but it was pretty high up there, Orison."


    With a serious face lacking all humor it had displayed before, he responded, "He''ll be a lot more assured working with me if he knows you have the ability to reign me in. Besides, mom, he''s wearing a promise ring. A little flattery is harmless and it''ll help him warm up to us."


    With an averted glance she said, "It''s fake. It''s made to look like a promise ring but it''s actually a hidden excerpt from a popular Redland warrior''s philosophy book. Two of the lines in it''s script turn the meaning from ''a promise of love'' to ''a premise of life'' or better translated as ''a reason to live''... I noticed it and out of curiosity I asked him if he remembers his reason to live. I was trying to let him know I''m not an uneducated or unobservant person but with what you said, he could easily misunderstand my intentions!"


    After Orison apologized, the rest of the wait passed in silence. Droya had yet to calm down enough to forgive and anything Orison could say beyond the apology he gave would be better spent looking contrite, he thought. Trapped in the uneasy silence, Rithus suddenly found the carved stone under his feet to be fascinating.


    Teleportation by hand was a tricky business. Gerrald warned the group of four a total of three times about the need for absolute silence and stillness once the process began. Backs facing each other and personal effects stacked carefully in the center, Orison took the safest position directly in front of the casting mage. In other circumstances he''d want his mother to take the position but an opportunity to study a free hand version of the model would get Orison one step closer to obtaining the spell himself.


    Orison took note as he thought, " So it''s only a master model by technicality. It''s extra dimensional aspect that makes it such, is fairly shallow and the difficulty of learning it lies in understanding simple tesseract construction. I''m sure that mages of this world have a hard time envisioning it but who on earth hasn''t seen an animation of a cube within a cube shifting to a cube outside a cube?... I think the computer lab at my high school had a default ''4D'' screensaver at one point...


    "You''re kidding right!? The gibberish on The Order of Silence''s cave gate was just elvish trigonometry?... Okay. So Trig for coordinates, transition markers between two cubic volumes and the rest I''m not clear on except the little part there that''s used to detonate the priority target. Ha, he uses ''space'' instead of ''life''. That''s gonna make the edges nice and sharp... What?"


    Orison noticed that the spell was held for a second in completion. Right before it was activated, the mage changed a subtle portion of the formula before knocking off the chalk dust he was using to make his calculations with. The mage''s assistant glanced at the mage with a ''now?'' look on his face and sneezed.


    Recognizing that the mage''s small calculation change had reduced the volume by over a third and the use of space instead of life as priority made the spell boundary an executioner''s blade, Orison realized that the mage had murderous design a split second before the assistant''s staged sneeze. Too late to escape the edged magic death cage, Orison tossed the top two pieces of luggage out right as the assistant sneezed.


    As the two pieces of luggage passed through the closing boundary, partially sheared, Orison yelled, "Group huddle!"


    During their time at the manor, Morrel had introduced the idea of group tactics, something that mages especially need since sometimes their spells were inherently dangerous or could go wrong. In a two birds one stone deal, Morrel would train Orison while adding some entertainment and exercise to everyone''s day by having the other members of the house join in to be his teammates. He hated that the given reason was always ''mage screwed up his spell'' and Orison would have to figure out a way to keep his teammates safe from his error. ''Group huddle'' was for wide area and other unavoidable collateral damage.


    Since Droya and Rithus had already saw the luggage toss out of the corners of their eyes, they responded to the call without much delay. In a practiced moved that Orison had been victim to before, Droya snaked out her hand to the back of Nadir''s neck. She shifted her opposite leg to forcefully spin the startled captain around before face planting him into the luggage as the spilling cubic curtain of light whisked them away. Nadir''s confused shout of protest was drowned out by a startled scream from Rithus as a part of the captain''s sword and Rithus'' tail were cleanly cut through.

 19 OEW

    Immediately upon arrival at their teleported destination, it was Orison''s turn to scream in pain as an arrow lodged into the meaty outer part of his thigh just under his buttocks. Reflexively, he summoned Stupid Horse to impede any more.


    Crouching, Captain Nadir readied his shield and not-so-long sword as he shouted, "Archer 11 far, Melee 12 near, Mage 2 far."


    With a split second look at the shadows under Stupid Horse, he willed it with force to turn to what he hoped was ''2'' and gave the order for it to run, thinking to himself, "Of course the mage is too far, lulz. F***, this arrow hurts!"


    While Rithus rushed up to provide Orison with a luggage shield, the boy was lobbing a Fire Shot at the archer with the second of clear view he had before he was surrounded by overprotective meat walls. The archer reacted to the little fire missile in an exaggerated manor, mistaking it for a fireball as he dove into the dirt to the side.


    Droya, who had manged to string her bow, was drawing an arrow with deadly determination pointed at the sprawled archer. Stupid Horse didn''t hit the mage but it did manage to provide Nadir with enough time to shield bash his opponent into the mage''s line of sight on the tightly packed group.


    Through shuffling legs, Orison managed to get a bead on the mage and summoned a poorly organized spell model of Earth Golem. As the hastily constructed golem immediately crumbled, spilling dirt and rock onto the mage, Droya buried an arrow into the archer''s spine just below his neck. Judging from his screams but lack of movement, Orison reasoned that the archer was paralyzed.


    "Mom, help the captain," Orison screeched as he saw her getting ready to take another arrow out.


    As Droya dropped her bow and moved forward with dagger in hand, Rithus, seeing that the archer was no longer a threat, moved himself and the luggage shield between Orison and the mage. Sadly, he also obstructed the boy''s line of sight and bled on Orison from his cut tail.


    Fearing that his magic wouldn''t construe Nadir as a friendly, Orison closed his eyes and focused his senses on the magic that remained in the dirt his failed golem had been made of and tried to summon it with the same material. A barely audible scream cut through the sound of clashing metal from where his barely holding together golem stood.


    Orison managed to gasp out, "Thanks, Rithus but I need to be able to see."


    The Marshlander stuttered a nervous apology as he stood from his crouching position. As Rithus stood, Orison could see that the mage had suffered some broken bones from being shunted out of the golem. Unable to get fine control out of the shoddy golem, Orison had it step on the mage before having it walk towards him.


    The armored man facing Nadir was fairly skillful but with the captain taking so much of his attention, Droya slipped through his guard. The dagger meant to sever his spine cut a gash in his neck instead as he partially succeeded in strafing to the side. It wasn''t enough to save his life but it did manage to blind Droya with a copious spurt of his blood.


    Pulling his stationary set out of storage, Orison scrawled a quick double set of notes. He tore it in half and had the golem stand sideways with arms outstretched, a copy of the note in each, covering the back edge of the cut circle and out behind it in an approximation of the direction from where the teleport started.


    As Droya prepared Orison to break and remove the arrow, Rithus asked, "T-This one would like to know what Young-er-Orison is doing with the dirt man."


    Orison gritted out a smile and said, "May be no-ah!... n-nothing but if it works it''ll be great."


    While they waited for Nadir and Droya to finish interrogating the paralyzed archer, Orison healed up his thigh and Rithus'' tail enough to close them for the time being and took a small sip of his special ''magic juice'' potion hidden in a metal flask inside his robe.


    A few seconds later, a whump of displaced air took nearly a third of the back half of the golem before the rest fell like a tree on top of the teleporting mage. The wall of force surrounding the mage protected him from damage but the added pressure of uncalculated, displaced matter and falling debris shot the mage backwards off his feet. When the mage hit the ground, momentarily stunned, Orison threw the axe he had summoned. With his leg still injured, Orison''s aim hit low, leaving a ghastly shoulder wound.


    As the force shield wavered back on, the boy tensed. With no element of surprise and nearly out of magic, depending on what spells the mage knew, they were all in big time trouble. With bated breath, willing his potion boosted magic to come back just a little faster, Orison watched the mage struggle to rise and slip in his own blood. When the severely injured shoulder hit the ground, the mage''s eyes rolled back in his head and passed out.


    Not wasting a moment, Orison hobbled over as fast as he could and emptied his tank to summon one last axe which he took to the mages face with vengeance as he said, "That''s what you get for using ''space'' instead of ''life'', dipsh**! That line would have been so much better if you and the whole godd*mn magic world didn''t know Kinetic Shield!"


    Orison stripped the mage of valuables and stored them in his space, even draining a couple vials of blood into empty healing potion bottles.


    As soon as he was finished, Droya snatched him up into a hug and whispered, "I''ll let it slide but watch your mouth, little cub."


    Wincing from his tweaked thigh, he whispered back, "Sorry, mom."


    Captain Nadir who had rushed over only to end up as peanut gallery while Orison diced the mage''s head, made himself busy reading the leftover note while the mother and son hugged it out. "Shifted stroke BEFORE sneeze, still good."


    Nadir looked at Orison with grudging admiration and said, "How did you know?"


    Orison said, "About what the mage had done or that he''d be showing up?"


    The captain just nodded so Orison said, "Ancient elf math, boring stuff. As far as the guess, I knew he would. I only had high hopes of guessing where... So he would want to make it looked like he screwed up because of his apprentice but I gave him a new excuse for getting all jumpy. Either way, he''d be sent to check up or in concern he''d volunteer. Since he want''s us dead, he wouldn''t want to waste time on a new setup, trying to get here as fast as he could to back up our welcome committee. The next logical step would be to pull back a little from the original destination since going forward might put him facing the wrong way and if he was lucky, set him up for a surprise attack.


    "I could have been completely wrong or he might have chickened out. He could have came with company, like his assistant, or Gerrald might have insisted on coming. Too many ifs but too good of a chance not to take."


    Nadir whistled then said, "Glad I''m on your side... In any case, how merciful are you feeling?"


    Orison''s expression darkened. "Not very."


    Nadir sighed. "He was following orders. The man I fought was the dead captain''s second, meaning he was in charge. I''m inclined if you can be convinced."


    Droya frowned but left it Orison.


    "That arrow was meant to kill me, was five inches from raping me and four from castrating me," Orison said and hissed from shifting feet, apparently close enough to a Marshlander display of agitation that Rithus let out a much more authentic one in a show solidarity.


    "There are six more men back at the barracks who will welcome us a little more warmly with one of their number returning with us to explain why their temporary captain was dead," Nadir said.


    Orison spat, "Where were they then? If that archer was just being a good soldier, why aren''t there more? Why only these three? Allow me to guess... If that mage over there isn''t dark gray with pointy ears then the archer can live. Is that fair?"


    Everyone turned towards the broken mage covered in dirt while Nadir walked over to pull back the cowl. Orison felt like crowing when Ashlander features were revealed until he took in that it was a young girl not quite a woman. Feeling a lot less pleased with himself but still justified, he looked at the locket Nadir handed him. The back inscription read ''Father loves you always, Quentus''.


    Orison said softly, "Which one is her father? Don''t bother, the archer''s a bit too young."


    Orison hobbled over to the archer and said, "I''m going to pull out the arrow and cast a heal. As soon as I do, there''s a chance you''re whole body is going to hurt as the nerves start to reconnect. Whatever you do, don''t move or all the heal spells I can cast for days won''t keep you from having permanent nerve damage."


    The archer, close to death from difficulty breathing, weakly assented. Orison yanked the arrow out with one hand and healed with the other. The archer''s heart skipped a beat, almost stopping, before he sucked in a small breath, weakly screamed and passed out.


    "You were right. what changed your mind?" the captain asked.


    Orison thought, "You shifty f***. You know why." Out loud he replied, "A Centerland soldier''s daughter wouldn''t be a revivalist. Judging by the age of the girl, she was born before the meteor shower. He was probably supporting her in secret even before he got here. The archer knew but was either loyal or friendly enough that he not only helped keep the secret, he was helping the guy earn side money but before I guess too much and make a fool of myself, why don''t you tell me what the archer said that convinced you because I''m not seeing it."


    Nadir said, "The situation here is a mess. Morale is practically nonexistent. When the men staged a coup, Quentus there kept the boy out of harm''s way. Yes, I say eighteen is a boy because of where he comes from. The archer is from the west woodlands. They make good sharpshooters from all the game hunting and take to soldiering well, simple and honest people.


    "Not only was the boy doing what he thought was his duty, he probably thought well of the man who saved him and looked after his illegitimate daughter because that''s what a good man does. He had no idea he was signing up to kill a woman and a child. If he saw something other than your rear end when we appeared here, he probably would have froze up. You saw how he reacted to your spell. He probably doesn''t even know his a** from a hole in the ground when it comes to magic. A raw recruit fresh out of basic can be easily ruined but if he found someone worth a damn to follow, he''d be a solid and dependable soldier for them."


    Orison waited until he could pull out his least powerful healing potion, poured some into the back wound after cleaning it then flipped the freshly screaming soldier over and got him to drink the rest.


    "Listen closely, in just a little bit I''m going to ask you to stand. Captain Nadir is going to brace you. Take it slow and if you suddenly feel a strong pain or an area of numbness you ask to be lowered back down unless you''re almost standing," Orison said.


    The young archer didn''t have any problems getting to his feet but he suddenly frowned and said, "I can''t feel the left side of my leg and most of my left foot."


    Orison felt like cursing but held back and said, "I''m going to be honest with you. Before I could clean out the wound I had to cast a heal to save your life when I removed the arrow and because of that, I believe a small piece of bone got locked in and I missed it when I cleaned the wound later... The only ways I can think to fix it is while the healed wound is still fresh, I can cut back in and fish out the piece then heal you again. Alternatively, you can save up around 500 gold and take your problem to a temple of healing for them to take care of. What will it be?"


    "Will ya forgive me fer planting tail feathers on ya if I let ya cut on me a bit? Name''s Cray, by the way." The archer said.


    Orison chuckled and said, "Sure, fine... Captain, I need you to hold him still as you can while I try to get some magic back. When I''m ready, I''m going to need you to turn around, put his arms over your shoulders and slowly kneel down. You got to keep him from moving... Rithus, I''ll need you to hold his..."


    After a series of complicated orders, some of which were probably unnecessary, Orison cleaned his dagger and tried his best to ignore the screaming as he got to work. A half an hour later, the archer was good as new but looked at Orison like he was the devil. Another half hour of rest and Nadir revealed to the archer how much two healing potions of that caliber cost then Cray looked at Orison like he was a devil he owed his soul to. After Orison threw some heavily shaded humor about how his tribute to the Abyss was filled for the month so Cray got a free pass, the archer latched on to Orison like they''d been best friends for years.


    Orison thought, "Well, after that I can scratch doctor and inquisitor from my list of possible future professions... That''s weird but kind of a relief. I didn''t get the girl''s soul."


    With an emotion difficult for him to express, Orison burned the girl''s body and collected her ashes. Rested and mostly recovered, Orison summoned Stupid Horse for Cray to ride and the dead man to be slumped over. Slipping the makeshift container holding locket and ashes into the dead man''s emptied kit pack, Orison let his mom know he was done and the group set off southwest towards their new home for at least the next year or two.

 20 OEW

    With less than four hours of daylight left, the group got their first up-close view of the consulate. It was horrifying. The shoddy, half wrecked stone perimeter wall was pocked with burn marks and bloodstains. The sentry on duty had rust spots and other more unpleasant stains on his armor, decked with grizzly trinkets.


    A sentry tower and barracks in good repair was all that could be seen of positive features as the actual consulate office and living quarters were little more than a mockery of waste materials in the shape of a two room shanty. Judging by the smell emanating from it, the only reason it existed at all was a cover for the soldier''s latrine. From the lack of respect or care for their arrival, combined with the out-house office and quarters, there was no doubt that good times and easy days were a luxury these soldiers had not seen in a while thus not inclines to supply to others.


    Ignoring everyone else, the sentry approached Cray and asked, "What happened to Cap, Country?"


    Cray look apprehensively at Nadir who nodded his head, then said, "Cap took coin from the wrong hand. Got me n'' Spook to try n'' kill that mam n'' her son. Did you know Spook was a gilly? I mean we all knew Spook was an ash suckin slant-ear but not only was she a gilly not full grown, she was Cap''s get, er, daughter."


    A look of surprise turned hard again and the sentry said, "Focus Country. Who killed Cap?"


    Nadir cut in, "It doesn''t matter who. He was a traitor who turned his blade towards The Empire."


    The sentry turned to Nadir in anger and sadness in equal measure then said, "When The Empire turned a blind eye, sending cowards and thieves to lord over us, it was Cap who kept us in food and kit. We respected that by not asking where the coin came from..."


    As the sentry spilled his grievances, others started filtering out to share theirs as well. By the dossier, there were fifteen active duty and five waiting to return with time served. What stood before them were six relatively whole and in good shape, two heavily scarred but fully functional and another two that were stable but in no shape to soldier who were currently taking turns watching over three who were in various states of dying. After hearing about the last, Orison moved to check on them but was stopped by Droya and Captain Nadir at the same time.


    Orison sighed then took a deep breath and bellowed, "I got heals. Whoever might be thinking about shanking me because of Quentus, can I get a death pardon long enough to try and save your wounded!?"


    One of the men stink eyeing the group said, "What''s a little sh** sniffer like you gonna do for them?"


    Cray beat everyone to the punch and said, "He''s right good! Took an arrow to the neck and couldn''t feel nothing from there down. Tortured me nearly to death and back again twice but I''m right as rain."


    Orison said, "I''m only going to ask once more and all it''s going to take is one sour word or someone stepping in my path then I say to the Abyss with it and start setting up a pavilion since some kind soul used what was supposed to be my home for a latrine. If you want to turn your nose up at a handful of water in front of you for a river that isn''t there, it''s no skin off mine."


    Within seconds, there was a clear path to the barracks and not a single word spoken directly to him as he stomped his way there.


    "I tell you, Hefty. It''s like the soul of Stitches raised from the dead to chew our ears again. Feel, I got goosebumps," one soldier said as Orison walked by.


    "If those slant eared fish stall girls don''t show up again soon, I''ll be throwing an empire flag over your head and feeling something else, Mellow," a soldier who could almost pass for a Northlander replied.


    As the good-natured squabble got too far behind him to hear, Orison added two new worries to his list. He''d need to be checking for STI''s and his mother should never be left alone. His plans to get his mom a maid would have to be reworked too. It wouldn''t be good to get a woman out here to keep his mom company just to become a sexual assault victim.


    It was bad. Of the three, only one could be put together well enough to soldier and one died despite his best efforts, mostly because he wasn''t willing to flash his potions around these men, Cray being the introductory exception who was already warned by both Orison and Nadir to keep his mouth shut. He felt guilty about it but his first priority would always be his own people and these men were not his people. After saving one and patching up another well enough to get him home, the men weren''t frosty to Orison but the grudge of losing their ''Cap'' wasn''t going to disappear easily.


    He wanted to rant and rage how he had the right to defend himself, that a man who''d kill a child was nothing to respect but Orison knew better. It didn''t help his mood that despite opening a channel for supplies and working day and night to turn the dump of a consul into a livable place with facilities it hadn''t properly had in over a year within the first week they were there, the soldiers still heckled and ''cat called'' his mother. One even got brave enough to try and pin her to the side of the bathhouse Orison had erected with the help of the golem a day before. The subsequent near-death experience that soldier suffered nearly caused a mutiny on the spot but Captain Nadir managed, by the skin of his teeth, to get things calm again.


    The channel opened by Droya with the nearby fishing village was filled with problems. The promised goods would be short or some of the food would be poisoned, diseased or both, nearly every delivery. Droya tried to reach out to the neighboring clans only to find out they had moved, been replaced with a less friendly one or receive no response at all. Even knowing that things would be much better if he could just hang on for less than three weeks, Orison had already been tempted to pack up and leave more than once and after the barely thwarted assault on Droya, she wouldn''t have had anything to say about it.


    The second night of their second week there. Orison awoke to loud noises and the faint scent of burning. Moments later a shadowy figure had attempted to crawl into Orison''s room after breaking the lock bar on the window slats. Fortunately, after a tussle with a soldier who tried to take frustrations out on Rithus, it had left Orison so on edge that he slept the last two nights battle ready. The last thing that figure saw in this world were two angry blue-green glowing eyes and a shimmering blue axe.


    After taking a quick peak outside to see that the infiltrators weren''t great in number and no signs of a mage, Orison released a golem to target hostiles and stayed with his mom and Rithus. At some point, his faith in Nadir had waned and he wouldn''t turn a blind eye to need but didn''t really see any reason to care for men who he felt had spit on his good will. He knew that his assessment was biased, that most of the men didn''t hold any ill intent, but the ones that didn''t hadn''t stepped up to help his mother or Rithus either.


    Predictably there were injuries that needed attending and even though none had so much as peeked over to see to his or his family''s safety during the fight, Nadir was at his door to request his healing assistance. For a moment, the imagined action of punching Nadir in the face felt so real he almost thought he had actually done it. Snapping out of the delusion, Orison grudgingly relented.


    As they walked over, Orison said darkly, "While I''m healing your men, do you think you can make sure no one tries to **** my mother or kick Rithus to death?"


    Nadir attempted a platitude. "I...I doubt-"


    Orison interrupted, "I do too. I doubt you''re taking our fear and concerns seriously. I don''t care that she kicked his ass. It doesn''t change that my mom was assaulted. I don''t care that Trash Bag, I mean Hefty, only boxed Rithus in the head a couple times before I knocked him out with a rock. They would have done more if they could get away with it. Don''t pretend otherwise."


    Fighting to control his own temper, Nadir said, "I''m walking a tightrope here. Until your retinue and my soldiers arrive we need to persevere and aid each other when we can."


    With little time left until he''d reach the sick room, Orison finished, "Mom''s secured us supplies. Rithus has slowly been improving sanitation and cleanliness for everyone and I don''t think you need me to brag about myself... What I want to ask you, and it''s a rhetorical question I want you to really think about, is what in the Abyss have you done for us!?"


    Orison slammed the door in Nadir''s face as he turned around to the startled, sneering and in pain men within. As he started healing the men who needed it, he addressed all of them and individually, when it was their turn. "Here I am to slap some healing again, ungrateful sh**s. Where were you when Hammy pinned my mom against a wall... Where were you, Mellow, when Trash Bag was slapping Rithus around... Cray, I''m not angry at you, man, but I am sorely f***ing disappointed... Hefty, I''ll put the arm you used to hurt one of mine back to working order again. But if I don''t hear the most sincere f***ing apology I''ve ever heard in my life, given to Rithus tomorrow, I won''t so much as piss on you to put a fire out and you''ll forever be Trash Bag to me."


    Finished, tired and sorely desiring to look on the only two true friendly faces in this place, Orison turned to leave.


    A soldier who''d never made an impression on Orison asked, "What about Hammy?"


    Orison turned to look at the soldier who only looked concerned for a friend, nothing more, and sighed. Walking over to Hammy, a nearly stereotypical lanky sleazeball whose daily speech made Venito''s wh*ring brags sound angelic, Orison noticed that the man was suffering from a head concussion and a cut that ran across three ribs. It was likely that whatever had cut him had been meant to slide between them instead.


    As he cleaned the cut, Orison discovered that Hammy would respond to other''s voices but he would ramble his own internal monologues instead of speaking straight. Hammy''s friend and the two disabled soldiers who were on speaking terms with the guy, were hovering around to keep Orison ''honest''. Out of curiosity and pragmatism Orison said his mother''s name a couple of times at conversational volume. For the first couple of sentences Hammy''s words about her were complimentary if a little creepy but then he seemed to get a little angry. He started talking about the things he''d do to her once he got her, the attitude problems that he would ''fix'' until she was a ''proper wh*re''.


    Orison stood up, obviously uninterested in continuing. Hammy''s friend accused Orison of setting Hammy up, that a man with a concussion didn''t know what he was saying. Although it wasn''t said out loud, the friend and the two disabled soldiers he''d never had a meaningful interaction with, seemed to suggest with body language and veiled words that there might be consequences for not doing all he could for Hammy.


    Internally lamenting the loss of materials, gruesome as it was, Orison summoned out the heart of the Ashlander he had killed earlier and set it on Hammy''s chest. Using his now bloody hand, he made a print beside it. It was all stage and dramatics but Orison wanted to impress on them that he was vengeful and unforgiving.


    For the last touch, Orison intoned, "I won''t heal him and I won''t harm him with my own hand but I''ll see the Dark Matron herself claim him before anyone can force me to dirty myself on this filth another time in this life!"


    Fear and anger danced in Hammy''s friend''s eyes but he didn''t stop Orison from leaving. Stopping to cork the last wine bottle with what drained while he was gone, Orison cut the Ashlander''s body loose and dragged it over to the others being tossed into the central bonfire. Until that moment, the soldiers had been unaware that a threat had slipped passed them to endanger the three consul inhabitants.


    As Orison walked away, Cray muttered a heavyhearted apology as Nadir softly dressed down the other soldiers for their dereliction of duty, his own way of admitting his wrongs. Droya, who was waiting by the door, draped an arm around Orison''s shoulder as they entered inside.


    Before letting him return to bed, as Rithus left the boy''s room with a pink tinged cleaning bucket, Droya asked, "Why did you do that? The Ashlander''s body, you didn''t cut him up because you were angry, right?"


    Orison struggled with a good way to respond before Rithus surprisingly came to his rescue. "This one knows of some things, whispers from others and whispers from the shadow of the home marshes in the bones. The young master tries to protect us with the powers of nature, life and his own strength but is preparing to call upon the shadows cast by life and nature if what he now does is not enough. Lady Mother Droya, this one can tell that if he does, it will not be without good cause. Please be kind to the young master and not ask more."


    Nodding at Rithus, Droya sat down and locked soft eyes with Orison, then said, "I know I have been busy writing letters and receiving runners but I will always make time for you. You aren''t alone and if I have been forced to admit that I can''t hold up the sky for us by myself, know that you don''t have to either. We can each take a corner, yes? Now come give me a hug while there''s no one around to embarrass you."


    Not until that moment, receiving warmth that had been missing for the past few days, did Orison realize just how much the oppressive environment and circumstances had started to wear on him. He didn''t have to hold up the whole thing. Rithus held up a little here, Droya a part there and not that far away more were coming. They just had to hold on a little longer.

 21 OEW

    Orison woke to silence. After having spent nearly three days of enchantment assisted stamina recovery with no proper rest, the rebound was mildly intense. The silence did what all the boisterous noises and goings on could not. With a steadily increasing panic, Orison drew open the window shutters to see the center square out front had a relatively orderly formation of men at parade rest while a bench that had been moved to the side had the now three disabled veterans in silent attendance as well.


    In front, with Captain Nadir at her side, still as a stone statue, Droya organized her notes and addressed all the men. "Thank you all for giving me an opportunity to stand before you as we are today and hearing this month''s state of affairs address. Captain Nadir, if you would please."


    Bold and clear, Nadir commanded, "Consul Sentry Unit, Come to attention! Salute!...Rest!"


    The pitifully small unit that would barely make a squad, stood comfortably as Droya reported, "For two of you, Specialist Cray of Evergreen and Centurion Calix, this will be your first formal address. For the rest of you it will have simply been a long time and I want you to remember the pride you had at your first because soon there will be a reason for you to be proud again. As a symbol of that pride, I urge you to use each other''s given names and ranks during duty hours. The names of friendship and survival that you have earned from one another are badges of honor that you have no need to feel anything but pride and gratitude to have but they are also symbols of a dark time now coming to an end.


    "In a little over two weeks time, some of you will finally be given leave to return home. Today is a blank slate day. All past assumed offenses are wiped cleaned. Take these days to adjust your minds and hearts to behold the land of your birth as well as the friends and family that await you there.


    "Legionary brothers Tulius, you have the choice of staying or finishing your duty under Praefect Medici. In either circumstance you will be afforded honorary patrician status and your children with have the rights therein at the end of service. This is an additional reward for your personal sacrifice to save the serving legatus of two terms before. For all those who had suffered losses at that legatus'' hands be informed that he is currently serving indefinite consecutive life sentences in Gray Cliff. The honor of the soldiers who serve above and beyond the call of duty shall not be diminished for the unworthiness of their charge.


    Finally and most importantly, a five clan assembly led by Clan Fvaris'' shall begin constructing New Fvaris on and in the crescent and bay that is our neighbor. From all accounts, they are strong and stable. Assurances have been given that as long as no soldier or resident of this post commits a crime in the eyes of the ruling clans of New Fvaris, all harassment will cease. Revivalist, Progressive and Pact leaders have temporarily agreed to this truce in an attempt to allow New Fvaris to settle roots without incidence. The Fvaris Dowager will be visiting the consulate in four days. A lot is riding on a positive impression from this woman, including being given the right to promote our humble consulate to an embassy. Lets do our best to present her with the bastion of order, unbending will and discipline that has been the trademark of the Centerland Empire since it''s founding.


    "Oh, and before I forget, official payroll is reinstated as of today. Back pay will have to wait until the main envoy arrives late this month. Which, fingers crossed, will coincide with the finished construction of an inn, Centerland trade warehouse and government access port. I think I don''t have to spell what that means, men... But remember, if you don''t want to scare all the potential flowers away, be gentleman or find someone who accepts coin. Captain Nadir is capable of filling you in on military punitive law if your time here has allowed such knowledge to become unclear. It''s going to be a rough few days to prepare but a good showing comes with high rewards so give me your best and I will give you mine... Thank you for your service and good day gentleman. Captain, if you please."


    Nadir barked crisply, "Consul Security Unit, Attention! Salute! Dismissed!... Eat heartily at midday soldiers. It''s about to get very busy around here."


    When Droya returned and saw that Orison was up she asked with a broad smile, "I didn''t know if you''d be up in time to see my first public speech. How was it?"


    Orison returned an equally wide smile and said, "You were great out there mom. What was with the soldiers'' 180, I mean, about face in attitude today?"


    Droya, momentarily confused and also slightly relieved, said, " I thought... Well, it''s a collection of coincidences, it seems. After your performance in the sick room last night, the man known as Hammy died from complications due to his head injury. His friend, Legionary Calix and the two disabled soldiers that take care of the sick room all shared some kind of hallucination where a woman''s voice told them ''When the child cries the mother always listens'' or some such. All three claim that you performed a Silent Order ritual in front of them but no evidence could be found. The next morning all three of them were pale as sheets and weak as cubs until they got some fluids and a meal in them.


    "You heard the part of the address today that urged them to hang up their nicknames while on duty? Part of the reason is because half of them are wanting to call you Keeper, as in the keeper of the gates who determines if a person between life and death will continue living or die, and the other half want to call you Dark Child. I''m not saying all of this is because of you but you''re a good half of it. The other half is the letter from New Fvaris that was accompanied by an incredibly generous caravan of supplies that included mixes for mortar. There''s also an Ashland architect waiting to meet you or more specifically, waiting to meet your golem. Apparently, one group of hothead revivalists wanted to get one more jab in. Only one made it out and your golem is the reason why three didn''t. He wants to know more about it as the spell isn''t a known one.


    Orison thought, "I don''t want to be called either of those horrible handles. They sound like bad party deejays... Here comes Deejay Keeper and Deejay Dark Child, bumping and grinding their way to a community art center near you! Well, Deejay Dark Child isn''t bad but I don''t have the qualifications to rock it. Hehe, I kinda want to find someone who does and bestow it upon them with the holy task to save techno and dubstep."


    Droya sighed. "Hello, Little Cub. Are you still tired?"


    Orison snapped out of his head and said, "Okay, yeah. Where''s the architect?"


    That first three hour meeting turned into a three day session of exploring every facet of the golem and it''s capabilities as the crotchety old Ashlander worked him to near fainting exhaustion renovating the consulate and quarter mile land around it. The one good thing that came from having his mind and magic pool murdered on a daily basis was that under the old man''s expertise, his knowledge of the model surpassed its static state. The sliding state nature of the model''s malleable parts had remained a mystery to him until the old man had pushed him to discover them under duress.


    At the end of the third day, Orison said, "So, did you manage to steal the model yet?"


    Master Kretch blustered, "Wretched little boy, acting as if all I''ve done hasn''t been for your betterment!"


    Orison chuckled, "I''ll take that as a no. Look, I don''t mind. You did help me out a lot since I had to subtly change the model every time I cast it to confuse you and to keep up with your increasingly bizarre demands but allowing you to learn it from me in any way is technically treason because it''s a controlled war spell. As far as I know, the original creator of the model is Court Mage Gerrald of Whiteriver. If it isn''t him, then he knows who is. Since you could do a lot of good with it I''d really like to see you get it. Magic would be best off serving the betterment of people than finding new and creative ways to maim and murder them."


    The old man snorted, "At least you know how to be grateful. You know, long ago, the ancient ancestors'' most powerful spells were all related in some way to engineering and architecture. Their most treasured goal was not to own this world. They wanted to make one of their own. Too many of their descendants have forgotten this... Orison, if you push to reach the very heights possible you may touch the feet of their glory someday. If you succeed, I hope you can remember their lofty goals and not the ugly legacies that get paraded around by the hubris filled and power hungry."


    Orison nodded and said with a saccharine smile, "Alright grandpa... I think your blood sugar is getting low. Lets get you some juice."


    Kretch shook his cane at Orison and said, "Is that another one of your obscure senility references!? If we weren''t under truce, I''d show you what for, boy! Even on my deathbed I''d still beat you down."


    Orison raised a hand to his mouth in mock concern then started walking faster. "Deathbed!? Are you still catching chills in this heat? Don''t worry, I''ll fetch a blanket for your afternoon nap."


    The old man bellowed, "Slow down, you little abyss larva. I''m going to tattoo some respect into your backside with this cane here!"


    When Kretch thought Orison was out of earshot he chuckled and said to himself, "So what if he''s killed a couple people and taken their souls, he''s no harbinger or avatar. That old rabble rouser needs to lock himself in seclusion and ascend off this rock or die trying instead of working the rest of us up."


    After saying his greetings to a few people, Orison made his way back to his room. Sitting on his bed, he looked hollowly at the wall until it was dark outside. He hadn''t been sure but there was something about the old man that had put him on edge like no one else he had ever met. Playing the ''better than most but not by much'' game with Master Kretch had been exhausting. All that effort and the old man had been playing a much more advanced game right back.


    Orison thought, "So magical monk world police are real...At least some form of them. Not only that but I''ve somehow pinged their radar. So crafty for the old man to blow his own cover just to warn me. Well, I got the message loud and clear. Your unchecked authoritarian group is above petty matters of good and evil on the small scale but if I step over an invisible line I get squashed.


    "See, this-this right here is a paranoid schizophrenic''s worst nightmare. I won''t focus on what they might know. I''ll just stick to what I believe they don''t. I don''t think they can read my thoughts, at least not unconditionally. They probably know what I can do but not what I have, a small but important difference. Any other thought on the matter is going to be drowned out by annoying, repetitive children''s songs until I fall asleep. Cowardly lion...Tin man... Mp3 player, I miss you most of all... It''s not you, Porn, it me. I''m embarrassed to be seen with you."


    He had been asleep for what had felt like only a moment, when Orison was awoke in the middle of the night by a light pecking at his window slats.


    Orison walked to the side of the window and whispered, "I''m a bit young to be getting admirers by moonlight. Who is it."


    An unfamiliar sounding soft laugh came from the other side before he heard a return whisper. "Friend of the silence, we have have matters to discuss. A cursory tip for services rendered would be appreciated but not mandatory, unfortunately."


    With suppressed reservations, Orison unbarred the window and shifted the slats to the side until the lanky man had entered. As soon as the figure was fully inside Orison closed the slats and sat on his bed, putting as much immediate distance as he could to the stranger without being rude. The figure, respectful of comfortable distance sat himself on the foot locker and leaned his back on the bedpost. The stranger pulled back his cowl, revealing a friendly looking Ashlander face with gold stripes in hair and beard that seemed natural rather than cosmetic.


    Noticing Orison''s curious observations, the Ashlander stroked his neat beard and lightly tugged once on a bit of gold fluff on an ear tip before he said, "Two consecutive generations of Bastet intermarriage left a bit of its mark on me. Quite fetching, I think...Oh, right. I''m Nub, Old Bastet for gold. More specifically for you, I''m your contact. I thought you might have a hard time reaching me due to your circumstances so I followed a Revivalist rumor and was going to use that as a way to get to you but who knew you''d slap together a crap ritual. Between the tightened security and the need for a mission run, I''ve just been able to get back."


    Orison asked, "Are you a, no offense, vampire?"


    Mock surprise flashed over Nub''s face before he said, "What gave me away?"


    Deadpan, Orison delivered, "Hallucinations and signs of anem-er, blood loss."


    Nub showed genuine surprise and said, "Now, I thought you might guess because of the side service I provided -You''re welcome, by the way.- but blood loss?"


    Orison nodded and said, "Most might pass it off as shock but even after they bounced back with some water and a meal, they were still pale for a couple of days. If you want to hide signs of feeding with light snacking your targets, I''m afraid you''re going to have to take a swallow or two less.


    "This is going to sound like an odd request but I''ve been wondering about something and if I figure it out, it would be a big help to meeting dietary needs with less volume. It would also increase the chance of being able to leave friendly donors alive to volunteer again."


    Orison handed Nub six vials and explained, "There''s not anything bad in any of them. Those three came from an Ashland youth and those three from a mature Highland mage... As I understand it, unless you''re full, the hunger is a constant?"


    Nub chuckled a little nervously but answered, "I didn''t expect our first meeting to be like this but Grandsire Portia did tell me to expect the unexpected... Yes, the hunger is a constant but the closer to satisfied the easier it is to ignore."


    Orison nodded thoughtfully and made a note after grabbing his stationary. "Since you can leave ''donors'' alive, you must have practiced a good deal of control but how is your sensitivity to levels of satisfaction?"


    Nub scratched his head and said, "There''s some good material for ribald jokes in there I wish you were old enough to appreciate... Before I answer your questions and subject myself to old blood mixed with who knows what, would you answer me a question? It''s a simple one... Why? Why would-are you thinking about asking to be sired?"


    Orison said, "That''s fair... No, but I have a feeling that it''s possible my brother might be, uh, sired at some point. I''m not really for it but being supportive and being ready to help is what family should do, right? Besides, with you and Portia as examples, what am I supposed to do if I''m stuck somewhere with a hungry vampire who happens to be an ally? CYA, cover your assets."


    Nub nodded and said, "Sensitivity is crucial to control. The opposite of...never mind... Time is important, so let''s get through this and after we have our talk, you can ask more questions with that in mind. Small side detail, Grandsire Portia is strict on her siring rules so the last two of her first line have a lot of sentimental value to her. Consider yourself forewarned."


    Nub took the first one of six and downed it, noting nothing out of the ordinary other than it being fresher than he thought it would be. The second caused him to lick the inside of the vial and smack his lips appreciatively, rating a low amount of satisfaction increase. The third made the vampire''s eyes look a little less monstrous in the dark and he noted a barely noticeable euphoria.


    After taking the fourth one he stopped and said, "What I''d expect from a small amount of mage''s blood. Magic doesn''t really help with hunger but it does slightly empower other talents... Can I assume, other than having a bit of magic invested, that five and six are like two and three?"


    Orison nodded and the vampire asked, "Then may I suggest that magic won''t have much of an effect on five and only intensify six a little? The reason I say this is because I''d like to mix five and six together before I drink it. It was a barely noticeable thing but I think that what is in two and three would benefit each other but I''m not certain."


    Orison said, "Go for it. I''m kind of stabbing in the dark anyway and if it produces a solid result, then great!"

 22 OEW

    Nub swished the contents of five and six together a bit before downing it then said, "The first additive subdues the euphoria in the second mostly. That''s a good thing. The last thing this world needs is an addictive substance that targets creatures with low impulse control... ''Three'' does wonders for ''two''. Raise the amount of blood to a cup at its current concentration and it would simulate a full feeding. I wouldn''t suggest raising the concentration by much to compensate less blood. Whatever three is, it''s safer to keep it''s inclusion to a minimum."


    Orison handed one last vial to Nub and said, "Based on your reaction to ''three'', lets just try one more. I had another but if it''s that bad, the second one from these last two would be a crap idea."


    Nub downed the vial. A few seconds later, he crossed his legs as a slow blush worked into his cheeks then said in a slightly cracking voice. "This variant of two hits too heavy and fast. It might be useful in bringing a vampire out of berserk. With a touch of ''three'' it would allow a vampire to feel certain urges like everyone else for a time."


    Orison scribbled a few more notes and used Transcribe a couple of times before he handed a small home-made journal to Nub. After getting a solid affirmative from Nub on how safe the vampire felt about holding on to ''three'' for the purpose of getting it to Portia, Orison took out two large crystals that radiated a milky blue light.


    For a ''tip for services rendered'', Orison handed him a third crystal with a potion bottle pulled from a bedside drawer. Orison hadn''t had a lot of time since he arrived at the consul for real world alchemy but he''d made some essentials late into his first week.


    Temporarily forgetting his original purpose for coming, Nub gestured at the journal and said, "May I?"


    Orison nodded in playful exasperation.


    While waiting Orison thought to himself, "It''s almost a shame we''re in a truce. Revivalists are almost always a two for one. I get a black crystal from them and then a large one from their ghost protector.


    A couple minutes later Nub said, "''Two'' is a vigor potion to restore flagging endurance and ''three'' is a pinch of scraping from this crystal? I know that vigor potions are almost non-existent because they''re not considered cost effective but... Oh, without this different compound to keep the blood ''alive'' longer it wouldn''t be that efficient to vampires either, especially without ''three''...


    "Grand sire''s ''bone crystal'' is a possible substitute? If that turns true it will be a good thing for our line at least. I see that you have asked her not to inquire to the crystal''s source so I won''t either but it would be good to know how much we could count on in the future if we need it again."


    Orison looked at the vampire dubiously. It had already taken about all the courage he had to offer them. If it wasn''t for Portia''s closeness with his brother, this whole experiment wouldn''t have happened.


    Relenting just a little more, Orison said, "I can only promise two. Any more is far too conditional for me to say with any certainty. What I''ve given to you and Portia will last for a long time even if you drank nothing but. I''m fairly certain that her ''bone crystal'' will work as a decent, if a little weaker, substitute. Don''t ask why that is. That digs into her secrets and mine. I know you''d like to ask more on the crystal but direct those questions to Portia."


    Nub said, "Alright. Why is your formula for this salt water solution so precise but hazy on the chilling and amount of this tree bark extract? How is it better than wine for storage?"


    Orison replied, "Short story, otherwise it''ll take too long. For your first question, because I haven''t had a lot of time to work on it and I have a lot of other things I want to devote my time to. Plus, if Venito likes alchemy, he''ll have fun figuring that out himself. For your second question, because wine and other spirits might stop blood from clotting but it also destroys the stuff in it that nourishes you. Have Venito answer the rest. I''m sure he''d like the opportunity to flex his mind at someone. I know I like it, a little too much maybe."


    While Nub finished going over the journal that had other information in it than just his alchemy work, Orison thought, "I''d like to dedicate this Nobel Prize to my high school biology teacher, the people I volunteered with at the blood donation center and most of all, my grandmother who told me where aspirin came from. A willow tree by any other friggin name is still just a willow tree."


    Anticipating Nub''s final question, Orison fished another potion out of his nightstand drawer and handed it to Nub, saying, "Eventually you''d gather up the courage to ask and I''d like to save you the embarrassment."


    Nub avoided looking Orison in the eyes as he took the offered potion.


    After noticing what it was, Nub looked at Orison in surprise and said, "The alternate ''two'' is vital potion? A long time ago, we used to keep these in stock to help surviving cattle, er, donors replenish. I think we stopped because one of the ingredients got too expensive... I don''t remember anyone telling me it had THAT kind of effect for us and I''m sure someone would have figured it out."


    Orison chuckled and said, "The replacement ingredient is the likely culprit. No offense but cost was one of my concerns when making these. What good would any of this be if it wasn''t affordable...And no, I won''t give you my new formula. Firstly, if anyone''s going to make some profit from this, it''s me. Secondly, I have no problems giving Venito the formula the next time I see him but that will be after Portia promises me not to open cattle ranches after he has it. People who murder for pleasure, child molesters and rapists are excluded. Trash farms I can accept as long as there isn''t any breeding programs or anything.


    "Portia strikes me as a feeding elitist so she''ll be pleased to know that, as far as I can tell, cheap magical healing potions are not going to be forthcoming in the foreseeable future. A shame in my opinion. Pulling cows and pigs back on to the menu as a decent choice rather than an emergency one would be incredibly helpful."


    Nub nodded and said, "More of our kind than you think would like such a thing, Orison. Grand sire was changed against her will, as have others. From your perspective, it must seem like we all enjoy our predator status and some do. Some of us embrace it after a time because the alternative is too hard. Even with healing elixirs added, cow and pig blood taste unappealing but without it... Not only is it like a cup of water scooped out of a latrine left to stagnate on a summer day but it makes us weak and sick after a time. Some of us who were just too stubborn to admit defeat lose all intellect and transform into lesser undead after dying a second time...


    "I really should get to the reason I came. As it is, I''ll be legging a little in daylight... We pulled a few strings and ripped a couple throats to make this future capital happen faster. Unfortunately, there was no better choice than Fvaris as the spearhead. More lesser clans and clanless will flock to Fvaris'' banner than any other and they are willing to play the political game unlike Revivalists. Unlike most of the Progressives, they are good at it.


    "The bad part for us is their connections with Pact, that want to raise certain ancestors to false god status. Because of their ties with Pact they also have some of the best necromancers and have no qualms about its usage. On a more neutral note for us but unhappy news for others, they are also slavery supporters. The bad part for you is that they favor Summerland Domain for trade and alliance merely out of convenience in secondary ideology mostly. That being said, don''t get involved in Empire power plays. Avoid or push for delays whenever you see one cross your desk."


    "Tomorrow, when the dowager comes, play middle as much as you can. Too weak and she''ll exploit, too strong and she''ll remove the truce protecting you. Say no to the fishery one of the clans wants to construct on the peninsula tip, it''s Revivalist. If it helps, say yes to the offer of administrative aids, they are Progressives and want to learn more about how Centerland runs things. They are also hiding a friend of the silence among them. Don''t try to find out which. It would be bad for both of you.


    "I want to tell you to say no to the peninsula memorial but that would earn you the enmity of two clans and you need majority on your side or the Revivalists will pick you apart after the truce ends. If you''re inclined to do a favor for our order, delay upgrading this consul to an embassy. What you will lose in personal merit to Centerland you will earn from us but we won''t hold it against you if you don''t."


    Orison weighed his options and said, "I''m inclined to do a favor for The Order on that one. I don''t want to get wrapped up in deep politics anyway... Why is the memorial something you don''t want built?"


    Nub hesitated then said, "The memorial will be a focal point for ancestral protection over the bay. It will also be a tool for gathering strength to promote an ancestor."


    Orison nodded and said, "I don''t want to hold you too long asking you questions about how it works and why it''s bad but if you send me that information with as much detail as you can, I''ll see what I can do to put a wrinkle in it."


    Nub smiled and said, "I didn''t expect you to be that accommodating."


    Slightly frowning, Orison said, "Neither did I but in a way we''re extended family. Benefit to The Order is coincidental."


    Nub blinked, slightly dumbfounded for a moment, then said, "Anything you''d like to ask of me?"


    Orison said, "Not unless you know how to get a hold of an enchanter''s workbench, even if it''s just to borrow for a few days."


    Nub coughed and said, "I''ll see what I can do but I''m not that confident, at least not with any expediency. It might be easier just to requisition the creation of one. We still have a connection to a master who knows how and getting a hand full of apprentice grade hedge witches and cultists to sacrifice would be easier than borrowing one. I think Grand sire''s been tossing the idea around of getting another for her chapter anyway."


    Orison froze as connections were made, then said, "So that''s the secret. Just out of curiosity, does it have to be a mage? Are there alternatives?"


    Nub said, "I''m not sure about alternatives but the seven pointed star is tipped at a minimum of three points with a piece of artificially created amber. The main ingredient of that amber is the extracted magic vessels and condensed reservoirs of apprentice grade or higher mages. The more sacrificed, the bigger the amber. The more points, the longer the workbench lasts. That''s completely all I know about it... But I must be off. Walking around during the day isn''t fatal per say but it does make me burn through blood reserves much faster."


    Orison handed Nub one of the ''wine bottles'' after hitting it with a Degree Shift and said in parting, "It''s preserved using the method from the journal and you have the additives. Season to taste and enjoy, I guess."


    Nub smiled widely once more, nodded and left through the window after checking for the position of the consul guard on duty.


    As much as he dreaded doing it, knowing that his mother had a long and arduous day ahead of her, Orison woke up Droya and dropped the info bomb on her. He couldn''t wait until morning, not knowing when the Fvaris dowager would arrive. This was one battle Droya would have to fight alone. Compared to The Empire''s laws and regulations about minors, Ashlanders were absolutely draconian and seniority often trumped ability regardless of the age of the younger person in question. If Orison performed any action or talked unprompted, it would affect Droya''s image and ability to negotiate.


    After they were finished rehashing Droya''s negotiation plans and strategies, it was almost dawn. Seeing no point in trying to catch a nap that would only leave her more drowsy, Droya just got ready for her day a little in advance. Handing her a cup of tea reinforced with a drop of vital potion, Orison helped her go over the material one more time.


    When they were finished, Droya said, "Whether we finish the process or let someone else swoop in for the credit on the upgrade to embassy, our direct involvement wouldn''t be that long. Surely it would be better for us to tuck it in our pocket."


    Orison shook his head, "Even if it was just two weeks, the actions of an acting legate in an embassy speak for the country they represent. A consul legate doesn''t have nearly the same power. If you made a catastrophic deal with clan Fvaris, and they would try, The Empire would have to honor it and work their way back out. Now, I don''t know why they''d send a mother and son with no experience to do consulate work but even an insane person wouldn''t send them to head an embassy. This push to legitimize us as such is probably just a scheme to take advantage of our inexperience to begin with... We cannot afford the risk. Additionally, we get a favor I can''t tell you much about. I hate keeping secrets from you but please believe me on this. I don''t have a choice."


    Captain Nadir ended their prep session with, "Sorry to bother you, Madam Legate, but Dowager Fvaris has arrived."


    Nadir''s impression on Droya and Orison had rises and falls throughout the time they had spent in the consulate. Even so, the more recalcitrant Orison had to admit that once the captain had his hooks into the men, everything had been running like clockwork from a respectful and considerate clock. It led a lot of credence to Nadir''s original claims and his current difference, even warmness, towards Droya had convinced them both that his concern for their safety and well being was genuine. That there was a little suspension bridge inspired romantic tension between the two, was something Orison decided to patently ignore until one of them grew enough courage to make it something more than just awareness of each other. Considering that Captain Nadir had taken to not wearing his fake promise ring anymore and Droya''s intensity at work affairs, it was going to be the Captain or not at all. Orison held hopes that someone better than a professional soldier, who would always be married to his work first, would be the first to come wooing but he knew that life didn''t offer easy chances often, if at all. And as much as he didn''t want to admit it, a woman near thirty with no substantial assets of her own didn''t garner much attention in this world outside momentary companionship.


    Passing thoughts through Orison''s mind, as he waited anxiously in the recently expanded and comfortable living area of the consul, "As long as they aren''t showing the wrong kind of attention to me or my holdings, anyone who approaches mom is likely legit... I wonder how long will this world will take until they have their first women''s liberty movement?... How long will feudalism last? I mean, ancient civilization sentimentality is like a zombie that refuses to be put down here. Is a dark ages unavoidable for progress?...


    "How will magic affect the Renaissance and Industrial Revolution periods? Am I living in an early medieval world destined to become steam punk? Will that trend continue until it becomes like a real futuristic magical tech setting? Let''s hope it''s more like Shaderun or Greywolf and less like First Fantasy!


    "I need entertainment, damn it! Let''s test the world laws to see what I can ''re-invent''... That''s strange... At first I could contemplate a lot but after thinking through logistics of getting it done, things started shutting down really quick. There''s another factor besides scientific advancement... Prestige! I''m only allotted so much notoriety. Too much potential wealth seems to be a thing too... This is depressing. The more prestige, wealth or secular power I have, the less I can mix things up... I got chills, they''re multiplying aaand IIII''m looooosing controwol...How long''s this damn meeting going to last!?"

 23 OEW

    Out of boredom, Orison started fidgeting with the orbit of the black crystals in his space. Though they had grown in number they still kept a circular trek around the empty space where new ones appeared. Putting single ones back in the middle, they would stay there for awhile before drifting back out into the orbital ring.


    When he took the two crystals that belonged to the mages he killed and placed them back in the middle at the same time, something strange happened. Instead of drifting back out, they stuck together like weak magnets. Taking the other Ashlander ones that gave him large crystals as well, indicating at least a small amount of magic potential, and forced them to rub and slide against each other with the mage ones. As he watched, a sharing of the magnetic quality occurred.


    The longer they slid against each other the more magnetism they produced until they started sticking instead of sliding. Eventually, Orison had to use stronger amounts of will and even bare trickles of magic to manipulate them to continue sliding. Think it was an interesting way to train sustained control, Orison put it on autopilot while attempting other tasks. In the middle of hand walking, Captain Nadir came in and caught Orison, causing the boy to crash into a tray table that was thankfully empty.


    Red faced and acting nonchalant, Orison said, "What''s up?"


    Struggling to keep stony professionalism, Nadir said, "Madam Fvaris has been granted leave to speak with you, in private. As a concession, both your mother and I will be waiting outside the room in the event you may need us. Exercise as much prudence and decorum as you are able, legate-in-training."


    Nadir led the boy to Droya''s personal office where she and the most physically intimidating Ashlander Orison had ever seen, were waiting. Judging by Droya''s nervousness and the barely contained hostility within the Ashlander guard, it must have been a rough meeting. Drawing from Nadir''s calm reassurance, Orison stepped in and the Ashland guard closed the door behind him.


    With the extreme, if contained, emotions of his mother and the Ashland guard, Orison hadn''t expected to set sights on a kind and gentle looking granny. As they locked eyes, Orison''s evaluation did a 180 as he gazed into cold, glassy and emotionless orbs. Images of creepy dolls and sharks flit through his head as he made a formal bow and was gestured into the visitor''s seat. Trying hard to give her the benefit of doubt he didn''t think for an actual moment she deserved, Orison forced himself to ignore the irritation of seeing this old monster sitting in his mother''s chair.


    The dowager gave Orison a warm smile that never reached the stygian abyss of her eyes, as she said, "Since it''s just the two of us, young man, you may call me Granny Xia if you like. It would gladden my weary heart if you did."


    "You have one of those?" Orison thought.


    Giving the most angelic smile he was capable of, equally insincere, he said, "Oh, that would be nice, Granny Xia. I don''t remember my own grandmother but I hope she was as amazing as you are."


    The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened in a parody of delight as she said, "A natural charmer and so talented for such a tender age. One might almost think you were an old Master Mage who stole a youth''s body."


    Orison inwardly cringed, desperately hoping the old witch hadn''t noticed anything, then said after a nauseating giggle, "Granny Xia, you must like fairytale stories too. I hope I can be as full of life when I''m a grandpa. The other jealous grannies probably whisper bad things behind your back all the time, like that you practice forbidden necromancy and other nonsense. But don''t worry, Momma Yaya tells me it''s bad to repeat gossip, especially ones that would cause people to poke into other''s private lives."


    In a moment that passed so fast that Orison was almost convinced it was his imagination, Dowager Fvaris'' smile seemed brittle as she said, "It''s good to heed your elders. It''s told to our children from a young age that loose mouths will cause illness and disease to fly in and that the ancestors will spirit bad children away."


    When Orison readied himself to make a witty riposte, his chest felt tight and hot for a second before returning to normal. Thinking of yet another morning of greasy and barely edible sausage he had that morning he readied himself to speak again.


    In a convincing parody of concern, the old woman asked, "Is something the matter, dear?"


    With a great deal more genuineness than he meant to, Orison said, "You''d think a kid wouldn''t have to worry about indigestion but I swear, if I get served Centerland style greasy clot sausages one more morning in a row, I''m going vegetarian."


    The old lady snorted, "Good luck with that. The only greenery that''s growing around us in abundance right now are grass and weeds."


    Astonished, Orison said, "Are you serious!? I don''t have a lot I can compare it to but the surrounding sea in this area has more prolific and edible plant life than I can easily count on my fingers and toes! That volcano of yours may have done a number on the land but it''s enriching of the soil, both above and below sea level, will turn this place into the apex capital of agriculture in a year or two. Given, you''ll have to invest heavily in hearty trees to make windbreaker lines and plenty of labor into irrigation of your natural rivers to get better spreads of continual moisturized soil during dry spells but..."


    As the minutes trickled by, an irritated boyish exclamation filtered out of the room. "You can fact check every word I have said about these three oil producing trees in THAT SAME BOOK by the Vale geomancer you just quoted!"


    When the Ashlander guard opened the door in angry concern, Xia glared at him and said, "Did I shout for rescue, fool? No, don''t close the door on me! Get my worthless Grandniece to bring me the archipelago map and my stationary."


    Twenty minutes later, Orison peeked his head out and said, "Mom, can I get a pot of black tea and some of the seaweed wrapped crackers. I know that we haven''t gotten it quite right but she can get the gist fro-"


    Xia cut in, "And a pillow. How can you tolerate sitting in this travesty of an office chair? It''s torture."


    A little over an hour after that, ten minutes after midday meal was served, Dowager Fvaris came hobbling stiffly out of the room and said back at Orison, "Your incessant drivel about the negatives of slave based economy has given me a headache but I''ll grant you two points. History does support it''s not usable indefinitely so I''ll compromise with thought on redemption practices. And it''s true that a minimum fair wage practice with this ''migratory visa'' combination would be more cost effective after we work out the wrinkles over security issues but don''t expect things to change quickly.


    "Legate Droya, the fishery is no longer a point as long as your son comes to New Fvaris for a few days to help some fisher teams learn how to ''sea farm''. Mainly because I''ll need that crew of malcontents to start a- sea mustard was it, Orison?- bed. As far as the embassy issue goes, I''ll draft a letter along the lines of accrediting some agricultural merits to your son as the reason for desiring the promotion but say that until I get a trained Legate who I can thoroughly trounce fairly, further long-term negotiations will have to wait. To be clear, that means New Fvaris will only accept information and trade documents that cross your desk. Learn to enjoy your post office status, dear. Politics will only make you old before your time."


    Droya curtsied gracefully and said, "I greatly appreciate your understanding, Dowager Fvaris."


    Xia nodded crisply and said, "Send me a draft of your seed stock. I''ll only give you half again as much as purchase and shipping cost you but you won''t have to embarrass yourself by negotiating with clans that''ll only look down on you or the Empire traders coming later. They''ll eat you alive, girl."


    As soon as the old woman left, Droya pounced into the office and said, "Orison, I could have gotten double what she offered. Doubtless, the first shipments that arrive will get even more. Why did you tell her?"


    Orison smiled and said mischievously, "Because they won''t. The Ashlanders would only pay those ridiculous prices because they have to start farming now or start starving in a few months when the fish schools shift. Further north on the island, if they can survive the trip and not be robbed outright, risking disease and disasters, they might get that price...


    "Oh wait, that''s right. A certain court mage has a Northland feudal lord already funding a large caravan. The Ashlanders that live up there have endured under the graces of the High King much better and think of Northlanders fondly. Even the Revivalists wouldn''t cause problems to a benefactor for no reason. That''s why the Ashlander attack against us was so shocking.


    "Those poor merchants are going to be selling at standard purchase costs, eating shipping, or take it all back home. Her price to you was a kickback. Half of their new targets for cultivation lies on their own islands, the others they''ll be negotiating with the Emerald Vale for. But poor me, all I''ll get credit for is showing them which seaweed is not only edible but tasty, spurring them to make more discoveries and staving off impending famine. In gratitude for my minor assistance that led to such a wealth of bounty, they''ll assent to New Fvaris hosting an embassy that they will name after you by my request."


    Droya grumbled, "You could have been rich as a king if you had doled out your ''minor'' assistance a little more frugally."


    Turning serious, Orison said, "Having too much is just as bad as not having enough. We''ll get plenty in time but we can''t have more than we have the ability to protect. Besides, Clan Fvaris owes us. If they conveniently forget that fact, then they WILL remember in three or four years from now."


    Droya''s eyebrows raised as she asked, "Why is that, Orison? From what I''ve seen and learned, the favor of the powerful is easily lost."


    Orison leaned in and whispered, "What grows well today will not be so forever. They were cultivators before but they''ll be working with new plants and trees that have different needs and though I was subtle about it, when they figure out the need, they''ll remember who to find for answers." Orison stepped back and continued, "But who cares if they never need to seek me again? We don''t have to keep a book of accounts with every group we help behind the scenes. We just need to shower the ones who appreciate us with more to appreciate."


    Droya sighed and looked at Orison with worry, "Little cub, I''m deathly afraid you are going to be abducted one day and that will be the end."


    Orison said, "I have yet to show someone anything they couldn''t find themselves if they knew where to look with the exception of family. I don''t mind if family abducts me! Well, I did slip a little with Gerrald but it wasn''t that bad... I guess I did take a few chances I shouldn''t have and if I push my luck too far there''s always the chance that... I''ll be a little more low key."


    The mother and son went over all that had happened in each of their individual meetings. After taking some time to give constructive criticisms and suggestions to each other, the topic turned to Orison''s unavoidable trip to New Fvaris. Inevitably, that led to the inclusion of Nadir. A round table of back and forth that nearly took an hour came to a sudden close as Captain Nadir took control and laid it out in a way that brooked no argument. At least, that''s what he expected until Droya got a few more shots in before relenting.


    Captain Nadir summarized, "So, out of the two to five day deadline to arrive at New Fvaris, Orison has decided to wait until the last comfortable minute of morning on day five to leave and won''t consider leaving earlier. No better time frame for return can be considered beyond a minimum of five days and a maximum of three weeks. Finally, disregarding much better choices, you have grudgingly accepted Specialist Cray as security detail to accompany you and Rithus...


    "So be it. But at least try to get to know the elder Tulius brother a bit better before I set Cray in stone to go with you. After saving his little brother''s life, he''s the first one to fly off the handle if anyone so much as says your robe''s wrinkled. And if he''d been around for either of the incidents that has you so at odds with my men, they simply wouldn''t have happened."


    Orison said, "Is he patient and attentive enough to mind a roasting pit?"


    Confused, Nadir said, "I don''t see the relevance but he''s pulled off his canteen duties without issue."


    Orison said, "Alright. Have him grab the sack of heating rocks tomorrow morning. He can come with me and Rithus to the west beach. I''m going to be spending the next couple of days collecting samples and looking for alchemy ingredients. I''m afraid if I keep pulling Cray away from training and duties to run errands for me, the others are going to get jealous without realizing just how much he envies them."


    Cunning shined through Nadir''s stony look as he said, "What kind of ingredients do you hope to find on the west beach?."


    Orison replied dryly, "The main ingredient for enduring breath potions, mostly. You know, the one that costs a ridiculous amount to buy since Mort- It''s Obsidian Isles now, isn''t it?- Since it''s been nearly impossible to acquire the last ten years."


    Nadir cracked a faint smile and said, "And the security unit can expect a portion of your findings?"


    Droya cut in with a predatory gleam, "Of course, Captain Nadir. One third raw materials isn''t out of the question. Charges for alchemist processing and secondary materials shouldn''t end up biting too deep into allotted operation loan funds if you want a finished product."


    Orison chimed in with an innocent smile, "He could always just trade the materials unprocessed, mom... Captain Nadir, do you have those really expensive containers that preserve sensitive herbs? Otherwise they won''t shelf long enough for the merchants to arrive, much less take them back."


    Nadir''s face went back to stoniness as he said, "Alright. I deserved that but could you have a thought towards kicking a reasonable benefit back to the men. Soon we''ll both be better staffed but as soon as Logistics sees anything coming through the consul, they start looking for ways to carve costs. The local legate frequently find themselves holding light payroll bags because Centerland knows their positions afford them the ability to make personal profit. Logistics turns a blind eye but hits the soldier''s operation funds expecting you to make the difference. Please don''t make my men disappointed again."


    Droya faced Nadir stiffly and said, "We ARE the payroll. We''ll already be making up the difference for what is, most assuredly, not enough to address back pay when the envoy arrives...I know you''re talking about the future but face the present first, Captain. We are deep in the red providing for your men. Don''t start getting antsy at the first sign of potential gains. I can discuss bonuses and additional benefits with you when my son and I are back in the black... The account book is yours to peruse whenever you have a free moment during operation hours. Full transparency is yours... A warning, bring a handkerchief. It wouldn''t do for the men to see your tears."


    Mother and son, tired from their ordeal of the day, retired early. As Orison was about to drift off to sleep, he checked on the rubbing crystals to find that they had fused together. Towards the center of the fusion, inside a glowing heat, lied a speck of icy yet opalescent ''eternium'' blue.

 24 OEW

    "So this is what you and Country get up to when you leave the consul?" a gravelly voice drifted over to where Orison was temporarily sunbathing to dry off.


    Slathering another layer of balm on as he saw Rithus flagging for his attention in the watery distance, Orsion replied, "There is no better feeling than turning work into play but don''t get it twisted. Swimming and diving constantly is tiring as the Abyss."


    The elder Tulius brother, Claudius said, "You''ve barely been able to keep up with the roasting rack here. All I see is a kid trying to justify skinny dipping on a day decent folk are working. By the way, that isn''t a creek out there. Be careful one of those fishes with teeth doesn''t come along and nibble off your little worm."


    Orison sighed, "There''s about five times more bundled up down here in the tidal pool, waiting for us to be done for the day... Or did you think the saltwater pond back at the consul was just a neat decoration? As for your other concern, with Rithus out there getting his midday meal on the go, the only things I''ve ran foul of were jellyfish. If you heard what your fisherman''s daughter had to say about you, you''d be begging me to take a turn,"


    Taken aback, Claudius said, "Wha-What did she say?"


    Orison smugly said, "Healer-patient confidentiality but fish bellies and cave eels were mentioned."


    After a little more taunting and negotiation, the next couple of days left Orison a great deal less over exposed and prune skinned than he expected. To ease his guilty conscience for duping the guy, Orison mixed a little precious restorative into the sun burn balm he gave Claduis, calming the man''s scarred profile from terrifying to just intimidating. And if Orison found himself fighting some bitterness over certain admirable traits of Cladius'' that he''d likely never measure up to, then that was a complaint only the grave or the next collection of miasma would ever hear about.


    On the added third day of collections, Orison finally found a large cluster of the tubular plant he''d been looking for. After having discovered far fewer than he anticipated in the surrounding region, he had Rithus redistribute a few seeds and mature plants to secluded areas that were difficult to reach. Nature rewarded the effort with the discovery of an old clam bed.


    Such a thing didn''t mean a great deal to Orison but Rithus and Cladius attacked the proposition of pearl diving with child-like glee. Attracted to a faint magic signature, Orison found a black ''life pearl'' that a matron clam sometimes produced, along with two more black seed pearls. Afterwards, he stopped looking, allowing the Marshlander to battle with the poor Centerland soldier. Fortunately Rithus was a kindhearted man or Claudius would have likely walked away with little to show for his effort, occasionally ''accidentally'' tossing an ''overlooked'' shell towards the soldier.


    On the way back, Claudius asked, "What are you going to do with yours, Rithus."


    The old Marshlander looked at the small pouch in his hand and said, "This o-I would like to find where th-my daughter has settled and send them to her. Maybe Lady Mother Droya or Morrel knows of a way. What will Honorable Claudius do with yours?"


    Lightly shaking his pouch, smiling at the clinking sounds coming from within, Claudius said, "Thought I might get a pair of earrings made for my local sweetheart here and then get the rest strung as a future engagement present to send my brother home with. Honorary patrician will get his hectare of land turned to five somewhere on the inner side of the eastern claimed land. I don''t think he''ll have problems getting that childhood friend tomboy he followed around all the time to say yes.


    "The Creator knows he''s spent more pay on parcel keeping in touch with her than anything else and in his little over three years of service he has more stored away in deposit than I''ve managed in over seven. I signed for a half-career ten and he did a minimum voluntary five. He''s always been a mite smarter than me.


    "Since things have started looking up, he''s heading home to start preparing for life out of service while I stick around here to see if things will get good enough between the Ashl- obsidian elves and Centerland, for me to try to make a camp wh*re into a housewife. Such a pretty young thing having a hard way of it. The best I can figure, two damaged people make a good pair."


    Orison stopped Stupid Horse to evaluate Claudius'' seriousness, then said, "I''m going to break my own rule just this once but you have to promise me you''ll keep level and respect Yulian''s decision, whatever it may be."


    Claudius just looked blankly at Orison so he prompted again. "Legionary Cladius, I want your word that you''ll respect Yulian''s decision and not mention what I am about to tell you.


    Claduis confusedly stammered out, "A-alright. You have my word on it."


    Orison explained, "I don''t know if you''ve noticed but it''s Yulian''s cousin that''s really been working hard for the spare coin outside of selling fish. As for your girl, she claims to only take coin from you since you and your brother got hurt. I can at least attest that since I''ve been here I''ve only seen or heard of her slipping away with you.


    "She came to me a few evenings ago asking if I had a certain special kind of tea. She was putting up a strong front but I don''t think that''s what she really wants. To give her time to think it over, I told her that since she was still shy of two weeks late she should give it a couple more days just to make sure she wasn''t irregular because that tea is not a good thing to be taking if the need isn''t there.


    "To be clear, there is little doubt in my mind. There''s already some hardness low in the abdomen and she complained of nausea the last two days before she came to me, that seemed to fade mostly away after morning. Now, none of this is a guarantee of anything, she might just be a bit off due to stress and constipation or something but I doubt it. Mostly I think she just knows that with it only being her and her grandpa, she can''t afford a child without help...


    "Just tell her what you told me and see what happens. If she doesn''t say anything about it, don''t ask. She''ll either come to me or she won''t. She either wants you to know or she doesn''t. The only reason I told you is because I don''t want a lifetime misery hanging over her head because you waited too long to let her know your intentions and she follows through because she has no hope. Honestly, I had hoped she''d have the courage to tell you but I can understand why she wouldn''t. She''s an, er, obsidian elf and a camp follower. In a normal situation, there''s little chance that anyone that pays for companionship in the consul would believe a claim of parentage from someone like her and even if they did, not great odds they''d want to take responsibility."


    Continuing on their way, Claudius interrupted the silence to say, "Hefty got burned by a girl running a daddy scam back at Glass Coast. You don''t think she''s starting up to run one do you?"


    Orison said, "If she didn''t have the weight of her own feelings, a silver and my words against cruel facts, she''d have gotten the tea that day. She''s not a dumb girl. She knows I was buying her time to either soften or harden her heart."


    More to himself than anyone else, Claudius vented his thoughts aloud. "It was just a thought I''d rolled around in the back of my mind. There was always a chance she''d pop out a kid and get some widower or dim guy to take her in. I just thought, if she was still selling her heart off in pieces when my service time was up, she could just hitch up with me. I''d try my best to save up some gold, give her a kid to remember me by and take care of any others she might have before she had to bury me."


    To help shake off the oppressive seriousness after the silent trudge resumed, Orison said, "No one''s going to ask me who gets the pearls I found?"


    "You''re mom." "Lady Mother Droya." they answered simultaneously.


    Carrying through the evening, with some help from Nadir who was surprisingly decent at basic smithing, the pearl finding trio had some simple but nice settings. Two sets of earrings, a broach for Rithus and cage piece to go with a repurposed gold rope necklace for Orison, was made from five smelted gold coins with one silver coin and a copper one. As soon as they were cool enough, Orison ''repaired'' in the pearls and with a promise to return the favor, rushed off with his acquisitions to see Droya.


    An envelope of velum tied up with twine held Orison''s first ''official'' gift to Droya, which he handed over with a shy smile and said, "I hope you like it, mom."


    Chuckling, she said, ''Did you finally get around to making me that horse scroll?"


    Orison smiled wider and shook his head. Not one to savor anticipation, Droya cut the string and slid the contents into her hand.


    Smiling herself but trying to act stern she said, "This is very nice, Orison, but black pearls are expensive and-"


    Orison interrupted to quickly explain, "We found the pearls today and Captain Nadir helped us make the settings. The important part is the Matron Life Pearl. It allows the matron to know which of her children are still alive. Before the school of divination was lost to mages these could be used in a lot of ways. Now, a person who has magic talent can drop a bit of their blood on it while instilling magic and from that point on, all it needs is for another talent to run a bit of magic into it and it will shine as long as the person who put their blood on the pearl is alive.


    " Also, if you''re close enough, it will shine brighter towards the direction the bonded person is. Just don''t use it too often or the bit of magic it has will unravel and stop working. It''s a naturally occurring enchantment so there are a lot of things that can make it act weird but nothing harmful."


    Droya looked at the pearl with mixed feelings and said, "It''s a beautiful and thoughtful gift, sweetling. Thank you."


    Orison sighed. "I know being able to go with me would probably be better but the consulate can''t be neglected that long. Besides, if they ever meant us harm, we wouldn''t even be safe here much less in the heart of their territory... I agreed to take a security person because I saw the sense in having a person to ward off individuals who might not follow what their leaders want but taking more would only make them nervous and increase the possibility of negative outcomes."


    Droya asked, "So, are you still taking Cray or are you taking someone who has the skills to protect you?"


    Orison smiled and said, "I was going to take Cray because I know he''ll listen to me and hasn''t soured against the natives. If it will help ease your worries a little more, I''ll take Claudius. It turns out, he has some stakes in maintaining and developing positive relations. And even I have to admit, having a more experienced soldier along isn''t a bad idea... Mom, aside from the other things we''d discussed before, I have one more thing to run by you."


    With some trepidation, Droya said, "Go ahead..."


    Shuffling around a bit, Orison managed, "It''s not definite but how would you feel about taking in a maid with no official training and might, er, might be pregnant."


    Droya took in a deep breath and said, "How about you explain things a bit better before I jump to wild conclusions."


    Orison explained the circumstances of Claudius and Yulian.


    Droya said, "As a person who received a rare second chance, I can sympathize, but giving her more exposure to the soldiers as my maid may not be the best thing for her... The men of this consulate already see her in a certain way and enough will be left behind for that image to spread to the new ones arriving soon... I have no doubts that Claudius'' brother will look after her but that''s part of the problem. There is bound to be a fight and that is going to strain things with Captain Nadir again. That''s doubly true if someone decides to draw comparisons to me because I took her in."


    Orison said, "This is just a maybe based on a couple of ''ifs'' working out in a certain way. If she decides to give a more serious relationship with Claudius a try and if she decides to keep her baby, she''s going to need a steadier income. It just so happens that Rithus isn''t going to be here for a bit and when Morrel gets here we need to start the assessment and planning for our land holdings.


    "Any hecklers can be silenced with your temporary pressing need for help around the house and consulate. After I get back, it''ll be time to put together a group to prepare our home... We could creatively interpret the latitude given to the Tulius brothers to snatch them up as Urban Prefect and Depute. After all, the original missive said they could finish their service in Centerland and only offered one choice. It doesn''t offer any opinion on whether another patrician with open positions could make offers or not.


    "Since our demarcated territory was originally swindled from a defector, there''s going to be several disenfranchised obsidian elves working on our land. Having an urban prefect with an obsidian elf wife from their social strata should go a long way towards gaining popular support. The last thing we need is disgruntled commoners ripe for the Revivalists to whip up into revolutionaries. And since the whole reason for slapping us in this situation is to pin us as the face of their diversity initiative, then lets take advantage."


    Droya said, "I think you might be planning too many steps ahead but I can see your point.


    Later that evening, towards the end of his volunteer hour in the sick room, Orison saw a familiar, puffy eyed but smiling obsidian elf.


    Yulian said, "I don''t know if I should slap you or hug you, little man."


    In all seriousness, Orison said, "I deserve the first but I had to take the chance. I assume that means that Claudius kept to the letter of his promise but not the spirit?"


    She nodded and said, "How can you expect a man to keep silent on the welfare of his future child. If things had went differently, I would not have been able to return here to sell my fish and if he should change his mind, it would be the same. I pray to the ancestors he will not betray the trust he asks of me."


    Orison smiled and said, "Speaking of betraying trust. As a healer, I have failed you and am liable for that. As compensation, I''d like to offer you a position in my household. The position is general duties maid and after a few weeks trial, upon my mother''s consent, that position may change to my mother''s chamber maid. The initial pay is one gold a week. I assume your cousin can take care of your grandfather if she has your side support?..."


    After a period of shocked disbelief, some assurances and an informally drawn contract, all of Orison''s preparations were done. A night''s rest later, Orison spent the last day before his field trip making enduring breath potions. It was a slightly risky endeavor that netted him a great deal fewer than he had originally anticipated. It also had him repairing the condenser twice and healing once. Despite the minor setbacks, his successes afforded him the bragging rights of having passed the second hurdle of alchemy, from magic assisted herbal potions to magical effect potions.

 25 OEW

    After all the strenuous and careful preparation, the execution of the trip was sheer simplicity. Upon reaching the skeleton of what would be New Fvaris in the future, for his own safety, Orison and company were sequestered into a home near the center of the Fvaris clan compound. With little to do outside of two ''classes'' a day on oceanic foraging and farming, he would study models and do as much of his daily training regiment as circumstances allowed.


    Days spent discussing future plans with Claudius produced the desired effect. When the older brother got positive assent from his little brother back at the consulate, Orison drafted a preliminary document to get cosigned by his mother that would appoint Claudius and his brother as the police for his little province. A couple of days later, Orison was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes over a frosty request to wait on further poaching of talent from the security unit until fully staffed from a less than enthused Nadir.


    Of the many oddities that caught his attention, Orison realized that his mind''s special energy source finder was on the fritz. Not for a second did he believe there wasn''t any around yet there were no sources pinging but at the same time, he would get a feeling of static electricity every time he focused on it. That sensation would get even more intense the further he went out into the bay. Determined to investigate, he was on the lookout for an opportunity but he knew he needed to be patient.


    After a week of intense underwater education, The Fvaris clan leader was satisfied that her people could handle affairs from there on out. Unfortunately, the other clans weren''t okay with getting their information second-hand. After a round of discussion and advisement, each clan would be given a specialty to focus on and Orison would conduct an information share for each. To not wear the poor kid out, the clan leaders decided to give him a couple day''s rest before he began round two.


    Orison found it strange how suddenly the two Revivalist supporting clans were respectful and even courteous to him. He wasn''t about to question having it easier but the nicer they were the more on edge he felt. Knowing that the specialty granted to one of the two clans would lead him deep into the bay, he was both dreading and excited about their turn. He would be a lot more worried about treachery but between Rithus and his own secrets all the Revivalists would likely buy themselves is death if they were to try anything foolish with the fishbowl and buoy anchored snorkel tubes they were using.


    The brief sojourn back at the consulate brought the pleasant reunion of familiar faces. Unsurprisingly, most of Morrel''s joy of reunion was reserved for Rithus who got fussed over as if he was still a young thing instead of the nearly venerable Marshlander he was. After hearing of the teleportation mishap while still on the road, Morrel was in a cold rage for days, according to Gan. Anticipating Morrel''s need of a target for vent, Orison presented his steward and part-time martial instructor with the preserved head of the teleportation specialist responsible.


    Orison had the mage''s heart too but when offered, Morrel responded, "I''d never eat a Centerland aristocrat. They have notoriously bad diets."


    Orison thought, "I was offering an opportunity for righteous and gory vindication, not a snack..."


    While Droya was catching up with Morrel and Rithus, Gan strolled around with Orison as if it was a matter of course. With what felt like half a lifetime of eventfulness happening on the boy''s side, Gan had a rough but ultimately boring journey. To the Northland scout, he was just picking up his duties where he left off, a house warrior attending his house leader.


    Orison''s ungenerous thought, "Hehe, probably afraid mom''s going to hand him a grocery list or worse, a dish rag."


    Noting Captain Nadir looking on bitterly as Centerland masons laid the foundation for two new structures on to the consulate, Orison couldn''t help but ask, "Why so glum, chum?"


    Captain Nadir looked at Orison unkindly and said with cold professionalism, "Legate-in-Training Cantrip, the masons are prioritizing basic accommodations, as they should. After all, in consideration of the arrival of Acting Legate Droya''s retinue, she needs a proper servant''s quarters and guest dignitary quarters for her indefinitely visiting urban prefect and his deputy. What is there to be glum about? I no longer have to worry myself over whether I need a dinning hall or stable more. I can just let them build the wall a little higher."


    Orison retorted, "Oh, you mean the wall I built? How about the bathhouse? Maybe you''d like to forget about how a dining hall and a stable or even the training grounds you already f***ing have, would still be a pipe dream without me busting my a** for you and your soldiers for nearly a week! I''m so sorry that I''ve spent the last week and a half drowning myself slowly to buy the peace that allows this place to still be here instead of a cinder pit of corpses. I obviously would have been better spending my time building more comfortable accommodations for you since waiting a little longer offends you so!"


    Captain Nadir, an emotional iceberg, gave Orison a mechanical half bow before he turned to walk away.


    Calming down, Orison said to Nadir''s back, "Send a building material list to me before I leave tomorrow afternoon. Mortar is cheaper here and the local quarry stone can be faced with the leftovers brought over. I''ll cover three times what we took for our additions.


    "The requisition of one man, since the other was going to leave anyway, and a bit of stone probably isn''t what you''re really mad about. Whatever it is, speak it out with mom. You aren''t dealing with some backstabbing socialites. If you come to us with your problems and that chip on your shoulder stored away, you''d find a lot less to be mad about. Passive-aggressive, impotent seething like a jilted mistress won''t earn you a damn thing except scorn."


    As they walked away, Gan said, "Dressing the man down in front of his warriors isn''t going to make a friend out of him."


    Orison sighed and said, "He''s a good commander who puts the needs of his men first. That''s a good thing, except mom and I aren''t one of his men. No matter how well things are going, when there''s a benefit to be had, he wants to fight for it. I blame that on the people he''s had to serve before. To be honest, I don''t know if I even want to earn his friendship when it''s so easy for him to throw my efforts away. Let him see the futility of trying to compete with a ten year old over who can be more petty. At least he''ll appreciate my mom a little more."


    Later, near the half finished dock, Orison was overlooking the magnificent ship when he saw a richly dressed man making a ruckus. Cray was helping a fresh off the ship dock worker pick up some goods that the man had dropped when the wealthy man kicked him. From the distance that Orison was, he couldn''t tell exactly what the man was saying but after pushing Cray away, the rich man grabbed the archer''s belt off and smacked him in the face with it. Orison heard loud and clear the shout of ''thief''.


    Guessing that the merchant was up to no good, Orison was going to rush down when he saw the rich man order two mercenary men to take Cray below deck. The man was obviously not a small potato and Orison''s gears started turning. He looked at himself then at Gan and a light bulb lit up in his head.


    From his vantage point, Orison saw Captain Nadir making his way to the harbor like a summer storm. Quickly, he changed out of his robe and into his swimming set that Fvaris clan had provided him, being slightly disturbed at the sight of a preteen exhibitionist. Taking a bit of dirt, Orison rubbed it in his hair and across his exposed skin as he explained his plan to Gan.


    Rushing down to the dock, dragging Gan by the hand and ignoring the shouting merchant attempting to extort Nadir, Orison slowed down near the merchant and said, "Gan you said you''d swim with me today but can we look at the boat first?"


    Gan turned nervously toward the merchant and said, "I don''t think it''s a good time. Maybe we can swim now and look at the boat later."


    The merchant turned towards the two as he said to Nadir, "And you expect me to believe I''m mistaken about accusing your man of theft when common detritus can walk right past your security detail. Hones-"


    Cutting off the merchant, Orison asked him, "What does detritus mean?"


    With a greasy smile, the merchant said, "It''s what little vagabonds like you are, trash. If you were properly schooled you would know that, savage."


    Orison''s child like smile dipped to a sad frown and said, "You can''t call me that, detritus."


    The merchant lashed out and backhanded Orison to the ground. Before Nadir came to Orison''s aid, Gan held him back and said in a strange and not entirely believable tone, "Please don''t hurt him."


    The merchant, drunk on his own power and authority, apparently didn''t particularly care what kind of setup this was. He waked over to Orison, who had crawled to the edge of the dock and raised his foot to stomp Orison''s neck. Taking out the steel dagger, Orison rolled to the side and snaked his dagger into the merchant''s crotch, dragging it down in a curvy line to slice the merchant''s femoral artery. It was only partially successful as a mercenary mage cast a shield of force on the merchant.


    The merchant, stumbled into the water holding his crotch and while the mage was attempting to grab the merchant with telekinesis, an earth golem cannon balled on top of the bleeding man. Causing them both to sink into the water.


    For the two seconds of indecision the mage was in to save his employer or try to find the mage that cast the golem, Orison exclaimed, "I am Patrician Legate-in-Training Orison Cantrip. Any further actions to aid the condemned or against my personage and this Consulate will make you a person guilty of treason against the Centerland Empire."


    In a panic but still grasping for a way to save his employer, the mage said, "A patrician of any title can''t execute murder in cold blood."


    Orison sneered and said, "But one can kill another in self defense, which this clearly was. Witness, Captain Nadir, am I a murderer or did I kill in self defense?"


    Scowling at Orison for all he was worth, Captain Nadir said, "Patrician Felix first insulted then struck Patrician Orison. After Orison''s personal guard attempted to dissuade with words only, Patrician Felix attempted to stomp Patrician Orison''s neck."


    While the mage struggled with whether or not to ignore and attack with the other two mercenaries, Orison addressed everyone, "Aside from the law abiding mercenaries'' fees all this merchant''s goods will be confiscated by the consul. Captain Nadir please have someone direct the good mercenaries and crew to the consulate for further considerations. Gan, have Morrel take inventory...You sir, if you don''t put that down you will be joining the merchant."


    Keeping everyone off balance and moving, by force of personality and the ten soldiers who rushed to the dock, Orison managed to clear the ship.


    Captain Nadir turned to Orison and bellowed, "Do you know what you''ve done? That man-"


    Orison interjected woodenly, "Is dead. His goods belong to us and as long as we set half of it back to be claimed by the very next merchant who comes, we''ll have another merchant. One who I guarantee won''t try to frame one of your men for theft... And the other half of his goods will be split between your budget and ours. We''ll recoup some losses you''ll actually have a surplus to spend as you like and the next merchant who steps foot here will have some respect... Anything else you''d like to address, Captain?"


    Captain nadir sighed and said, "That''s not how the game is played. There will be the Abyss to pay for this."


    Orison said, "We are diplomats on Obsidian. As long as New Fvaris gets a benefit from this, which they will by getting the goods they were expecting at market price, then their accolades at our swift and unerring justice will clear the board again for the next so called ''game''."


    Exasperated, Nadir attempted to explain, "You''re over simplifying this. That man had families behind him. Those families will be out for blood."


    Orison replied, "I''m showing you how simple it can be, Captain. Between you and mom, find out what families and express condolences for their losses at the hands of a madman and assure them we won''t hold them responsible for such a terrible turn of events. Assure them that we hold them in the highest esteem and would never seek out their rivals to benefit from their misfortune. If they''re too dense to read between the lines then we''ll do just as we subtly threatened.


    "We are on an island, far away from the heart of the empire. We can see them coming for days, Captain. All you have to do is be hard but play it fair. Keep Fvaris buttered up and don''t p*ss on the empire''s bottom line. It is, in fact, that simple."


    Captain Nadir informed wearily, "Maybe now but in the future you are going to find many avenues that may have been opened to you will be closed."


    Orison smiled and said, "Maybe in the future, I will be an academy graduate with the whole world hoping the empire''s p*ssed me off enough I''d be happier with them. If I don''t die, I''m going to be a large boat with a wide and messy wake but a still as glass water to glide behind me in. If being in front of me to help my way, behind me to protect that peace or by my side to stir the wake don''t appeal to you, get the f*** away from my boat."


    Orison walked away, leisurely ambling towards the consulate to help his mom deal with the chaos. Inside, he was a screaming wreck of nerves.


    He thought, "What the fuck was I thinking? One slip and that journeyman mage could have roasted my goose! Damn that felt good though. But what''s coming next, a big pain in the..."


    It took hours to take inventory, settle accounts and deal with minor claims here and there but with diplomacy, flattery and a bit of intimidation, they survived. The next half-hour of tongue lashing was even more grueling as Orison defended his actions and Droya tore those defenses away until finally, Droya''s tears trumped all and Orison apologized for the points that could have been better. Captain Nadir''s curtness during his involvement didn''t help Droya''s mood but Orison rationalized that when the captain finally calmed down enough to think it through, he''d either be all in or out. Nadir no longer had the luxury of lukewarm support. For good or ill, Orison had made sure of that.


    Emotionally spent, Orison headed straight to his room after dinner only to be summoned out again as an obsidian elf courier coasted to a stop in front of the consulate main building on the verge of collapse. Recognizing the man, Orison got Gan to help him take the courier to his room, claiming that the man was dehydrated and was nothing to be alarmed over. As soon as they were in the room, Orison surprised Gan by saying that it was important for their privacy to be protected and if anyone asked later, to say he''d seen the man leave.


    Pulling out his second to last wine bottle of blood, Orison handed it over after doctoring it up. Nub chugged it like his life was on the line and still didn''t look fully recovered until the sun finally dipped over the horizon nearly an hour later.


    Knocking one of Nub''s feet out of the way, Orison sat at the foot of the bed looking down at the dusty vampire sprawled on it and said, "If you''re done dirtying up my bed, could you please tell me why you were so Abyss bent on getting here you did a suicide run?"

 26 OEW

    "Can''t a man just want to stop by and visit his adorable youngest family member?" The dusty vampire said.


    Orison said, "Please don''t make me regret the momentary laps of sanity that spurred me to claim you as such."


    Taking more pity on his bed than Nub, Orison fired off a couple of Degree Shifts to knock the dust off the vampire and his sheets.


    Nub chuckled and said, "Does this cleaning come with free foot massage?"


    Orison smiled angelically and said, "Of course. My foot is always at your disposal to massage your face or backside with as much force as I can manage."


    Nub winked and said, "It''s deep tissue or nothing for vampires. Alright, I can see I''m testing your little reserve of patience so let me get to the point. My reasons are twofold. They were three but you''ve handled that last one on your own well enough.


    "Might as well start with the end. That merchant was not supposed to give you trouble but he received some last minute instructions from someone else to do so... This makes a mess of everything... Don''t worry. A patrician family who is a friend of the silence wanted some help pulling strings to get the embassy position after catching wind of it''s impending approval through a Progressive spy. That merchant was supposed to make a good first impression for them but a second supporter of the merchant asked him to defame the consulate while he was at it.


    "I don''t know what that was about and I doubt either of us really care as that reason is crushed or soon to be. The one who received your favor said to tell you that they will make amends for any inconveniences that you''ve suffered. They probably were going to rely on their share of percentage of this trip to make a light work of restitution, alas. Needless to say, since you handled the problem on your end, the restitution will be helping suppress the political fallout. To make things simple, they expressed the ability to shift your land claim to a more strategic placement. Are you okay with that?"


    Orison said, "Easily defended and away from potential future war zones would be best."


    Nub nodded. "I''ll pass it along... Firstly, I was already running an errand when I received a mid-mission distress. I was sorely mistaken on my time leeway. Originally, I was going to contact you some time after you made it back to New Fvaris but since I was frying and you were closer than my destination, I took a gamble you''d have a way to get me fed. I hate random feedings. They are usually the ones that end up making me feel bad or causing me problems."


    Orison said, "I''m hoping that instances that I would need to encounter to get your emergency rations will no longer appear. And as it stands, I only have one bottle left in the old cellar, so to speak. Have a care with future gambles please."


    Chuckling, Nub nodded and said, "Noted... As for the final line of business, Pact is bringing vampires to the negotiating table. Congratulations on giving them something less warlike to focus on. Now a council of undead might re-establish. That would not be a bad thing for mortals. Apart, they are like warlords fighting over territory but together they are a vicious political meat grinder, keeping each other''s numbers down.


    "Probably thinking ''Why do I care?''. Grand sire will be coming to Obsidian, if she''s not already here. That means, your brother might be popping in for a visit. Although, not surprised by your insight into her future plans, she is pleased and touched by your extravagant considerations for her and her family. She is even bringing up the idea of support for ''Trash Farms'' as a common practice to other elders as a show of good faith for the new cheaper vital potion.


    "Here is a signed scroll from her showing her agreement to confidentiality and to only use it for said ''Trash Farms'' and recreational use once you give the recipe to your brother. She would give you her word in person but that may not be possible."


    Orison said, "No, this is good. Contracts are nice and formal. Also, I and her other side don''t get along that well.


    Nub stroked his goatee, "So you''re one of those sensitive types that can hear it. It''s one of the reasons the elders rely on her to negotiate with ghosts... One more piece of order information I probably shouldn''t share with you since you''re just a friend of the silence but I think I''ll be forgiven... Another was found who can hear the silence so don''t stage another sloppy ritual for show. I have it on good authority that you''ll likely receive an answer and non-vampire members of The Order have mixed feelings about you right now."


    Confused, Orison asked, "Why? I''ve pretty much acceded to every request The Order''s asked of me."


    Nub sat up and squeezed Orison''s shoulder then said, "I''ll give you the general. I can''t say more than that... The vampire members are admirers and that makes the werewolf members not so endeared. You''re close to the present and future leaders of the Northland chapter as well as connected to the Obsidian chapter and the whole order in ways I can''t say. The Centerland chapter is wary of you, scared you might even say, and scared assassins are unpredictable. If you want to know more about the reason that may be, look into your own past. I don''t traffic with untrustworthy rumors, especially when they are ones I should have never heard in the first place."


    Orison said, "If it''s just rumors that concern me, I''d still like to hear them."


    Nub sighed and said, "I would if I could but I can''t, not even under Grand sire''s compulsion."


    Frustrated, Orison said, "Oh, those kind. Yeah, I know those kind."


    Nub suddenly perked up and said as he melted into the shadows, "Someone''s coming."


    A soft knock on Orison''s window slats was accompanied by a husky feminine voice that said, "Heard you were the healer around here, as strange as that sounds."


    Orison sighed and said at the closed window, "When there''s need for it. What''s your need?"


    The woman said, "Idiot broke a pocket knife off in my rib. Details I''d be happy to share while you''re healing me."


    Orison said, "If you were good enough to walk here, you''re good enough to go to the sick room. I''ll meet you there in less time than it would take to drag a person with a knife wound through a window."


    He was answered with shuffling feet getting fainter.


    Before heading out the door and calling for Gan, Orison said to the air in his room, "Duty calls. Leave a note in my nightstand if there''s anything else I need to know, like if there''s word on that enchanter''s workbench."


    In less than a minute, Orison was walking through the sickroom doors while a soldier he had yet to meet but was apparently on duty, flashed him a sharp fist to heart salute.


    Looking towards a woman who could only be classified as ''handsome'' or less politely as manish, Orison said, "I need you to unwrap your chest bindings. They''re soaked with blood and who knows what else."


    While complying, the strong looking woman with short, mousy hair and golden eyes said, "What about your shadow there? Does he have to be a part of this too? I''m not in to giving free peepshows."


    Scrubbing his hands clean, Orison said, "You''re that mage from earlier today, right? I just killed your previous employer. Pardon the offense for a little caution but I insist."


    Wincing in pain as she finished unbinding her breasts, the woman said, "Well, at least have him turn his head away."


    Orison said, "Gan, prep your bow and if she tries to make a move on me while I heal her, put an arrow through an eye socket... Clear on my stance now, Ms. Mercenary?"


    Wryly, the woman said, "Crystal."


    After cleaning the wound and latching on to the edges of the broken blade with pincers, Orison said, "It''s nicked your heart and judging by the silver of the blade, pulling it out unsteadily could lead to your death if I''m not careful so listen closely. I don''t care what you are but I''m going to have my guard prep his silver arrow and same applies. I will heal you but he''ll put that arrow in your eye if you twitch more than expected. Are we clear?"


    Not having much choice with a piece of metal poking at her heart and a steady arrow of silver pointed at her from thirty paces, she nodded tensely, swallowing a dry mouthful of nothing. With one hand pressed on to the back of her closest one, Orison yanked the sliver out then dropped the pincers and slapped an emergency heal in one fluid motion. Aside from an unsuccessfully suppressed whimper, she didn''t even blink her eyes.


    While Orison cleaned the wound a second time and checked for stray material, the woman asked, "You don''t care?"


    Orison, intent on his task, said, "As long as you don''t try to do anything to me or mine, why would I? By the way your hand is creeping, maybe you think you could scratch me or something? Don''t bother. it won''t accomplish anything but to annoy me."


    The woman sighed and said, "Fine. My word on good behavior... No complaint but could you maybe dig at my innards a little more gently?"


    Orison chuckled. "Splinters of nicked rib bone and metal shavings don''t just draw themselves to my hand. You probably don''t mind the one much but I''m certain the other is a bit problematic for you. If it helps distract, you could tell me whatever you feel like sharing about how that knife got in you to begin with."


    As Orison finished up his digging and applied a little more healing to seal her wound, she said, "Just a disagreement on matters that got blown out of proportion. Depending on how bowlegged he''s walking tomorrow after he gets that knife handle out and sincere his apology is, I just might forgive him... So what do I owe you?"


    Orison looked up from where he was washing his hands, paying a little extra attention to scrubbing his enchanted ring clean, and said, "Anything you can tell me about that merchant and any other ugly surprises that might be headed our way would, as mom would say, put you in the black."


    Most of the information she could share was mostly clarifications on what Nub had told him earlier but there were a few new bits he hadn''t expected. By inference, he figured that the ''old wolves'' behind the larger mercenary groups were planning on finding some new recruits on Obsidian to balance out attention that other supernatural groups were paying to the place. A futile endeavor in Orison''s mind. This place had been and always would belong to the ghosts.


    On her way out the door, she stopped to say, "Shame you''re an aristocrat and probably college bound, Centerland merc guild masters would fight to the death over a prize like you."


    Orison said, "That sounds too uncomfortably like I''m a bounty."


    In a near whisper she replied, "Keep hanging with bloodsuckers and you might become one, and I mean that both ways. It''s hard to find a sawbones that doesn''t flinch at those who are different so I won''t give you grief about it. Besides, the northern groups might take fang pulling as a holy prerogative but I''m not that bored."


    Seeing the patient walking out, alive and well, the soldier on duty walked back into the sickroom. As Orison made his way back to the consulate, the woman supported an awkwardly walking man his direction.


    Apologetically, she said, "I think it''s stuck in there and even though he said he''d rather die, he really will if it doesn''t come out and get some good herbs."


    Storm clouds formed in his heart as Orison said, "This, I''m charging for."


    Stopping at the door, Orison said to a smiling Gan, "Stay outside and wait for me."


    Suddenly sad, Gan protested, "They could still be dangerous."


    Orison closed the door in Gan''s face and said, "No free peepshows."


    The next day, with missives and requested material lists in hand, Orison was surprisingly glad to be heading back to Fvaris. The caravan of goods with soldiers and extra company allowed him to travel more free of worries as well.


    Morrel asked in a low voice, "Why is Gan so sulky for?


    Orison sighed and said, "I didn''t let him watch a patient expel a foreign object out of a sensitive place."


    Hearing Orison speak on the subject, Gan complained, "Those kind of stories gets men free drinks. Better than hero stories from a bard, I''m telling you."


    Despite himself, Orison chuckled and said, "I''m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to get free drink material as long as your hanging around... I''ll tell you one thing. I don''t think I''ll ever see a man as happy as he was to be seen by a ten year old healer. At least not ones I''d be willing to help."


    Morrel raised a salt and pepper eyebrow and said, "Why is that, exactly? I''d think anyone should be happy to have a healer when they need one."


    Orison winked at Morrel then made a fist and held it out to Gan as he said, "Come on, big guy. Fist bump and forget it. I''ll find some way to make it up to you."


    Gan sighed and bumped his large fist into Orison''s tennis ball one, accepting the peace offering.


    "I see," Morrel said.


    For the first time that Orison could remember, Rithus let out a shuddering hiss that sounded suspiciously like laughter.


    As the caravan finished dumping it wares off and loading return goods, Orison noticed that Morrel wasn''t loading back up and said, "Are you staying? I thought mom could really use your help about now."


    Morrel snorted and said, "Your mother isn''t as clueless about organizational matters as you think, Orison. Not only that, but she is your superior in learning what I have to teach."


    There were many things Orison wanted to retort about but his ego could handle Droya getting a compliment at his expense.


    Orison sighed and put up his hands in surrender. "Alright hovering parent, Rithus looks bored half the time here anyway."


    Morrel chuckled darkly and said, "Who said I''m here for the little tadpole. Someone has been getting far too undisciplined in his training. Or are you trying to tell me that you are finished and desire to learn no longer?"


    Chastised and unwilling to upset Morrel by pointing out the weaknesses in the old wood elf''s cover, Orison and company were escorted back to the Fvaris compound in silence. Soon enough, the boy realized that whether the story was true or not, Morrel was set to treat his words as gospel. From wake up until bedtime every free moment was brushing back up on basics and discovering new facets of the training he had not been introduced to before. Even the time he spent in the Ocean turned into a set of exercises as time and circumstances permitted.


    When Orison was summoned to speak before the council of five the day before he''d be taking the second Revivalist clan for the final set of sea farming courses, he did so with mournful apologies to Morrel. As soon as he was outside and absolutely certain he was far enough away, he let out a wet eyed smile of joy. The normal feeling of fear and anxiety when facing the titular rulers of New Fvaris was nowhere to be felt and even the five themselves felt a little baffled at how heartfelt the look of grateful happiness on Orison''s face was.


    Orison said, "I apologize for my current appearance Clan Elder Fvaris and assembled venerables. I was in the middle of training and these pants are my uniform for such."


    Revivalist''s prime speaker responded, "If we were not used to your proud displays of corpse pallid flesh, child, we would have dug our eyes out long ago. Fortunately, our ancestor granted magics have inured us to such grotesque sights."


    Too happy to be released even temporarily from his torture, Orison replied cheerfully, " I appreciate your generosity and kind words venerable. The heat of midsummer here is nearly more than a northern reared person can bear."


    The second Revivalist elder chimed in, "One of the many reasons we can tolerate our northeastern neighbor. Their reticence to overstay their welcome is quite refreshing."


    Elder Fvaris raised her perfectly manicured and terrifyingly long nails in a motion to dissuade further bickering and said in a melodious voice, "You have been called to speak on matters dire and important, Young Cantrip. Let us see if your improved spirits will endure them."

 27 OEW

    With a gesture from Elder Fvaris, the prime speaker for the Progressive clans began. "I am to understand that although your mother is acting Legate, you are the primary holder of that title. Is this correct?"


    Orison beamed, "It is, venerable... And may I say that the revitalizing cream has been able to improve nothing on a face that nature has made flawless. I apologize for attempting to ply my meager alchemy skills against perfection. I am chastised and humbled for my foolish hubris."


    The prime speaker barely avoided running a finger across her noticeably less baggy eyes and smiled in spite of her intentions. "This isn''t the time for empty flattery, young legate. We need to understand the reasons for your actions against the merchant and its ramifications in our dealings."


    Orison bowed and said, "It would be my pleasure to explain as best I can for the venerable who makes even the most strenuous of these unfortunate but necessary meetings tolerable to me. The merchant in question is a well known power player who bought his patrician status with money and favors. I, nor any in this room, has anything to lose for a man sent to fish in troubled waters to be swatted down before he had a chance to bite anyone''s tender spots. A sufficiently humble and sincere merchant can be expected on time with more goods to trade as regularly scheduled.


    "Since all of the honored venerables here have had an opportunity to read through mine and my mother''s reports on this matter, then I can only assume the worry comes from a point Captain Nadir has raised in his that this assembly may feel wasn''t sufficiently addressed in ours. Please allow me the opportunity to address that concern directly so as to save this great assembly''s valuable time."


    Token inquiry addressed, the Progressive prime speaker and her cohort had nothing else to say on the matter. In Orison''s mind, that could be because of their faith in him, who had bent over backwards to validate their initial friendly overtures or that their Centerland spies had already assured them that anything amiss would not be Obsidian Isle''s problem to deal with. Contrary to Nub''s evaluation of them, the Progressive camp was better informed about Centerland matters than any other group on the Greenland sized island.


    Upon being gestured to by Elder Fvaris, The Revivalist prime speaker said, "On this matter, we have nothing of import to add aside from keep up the good work. Perhaps you may be able to redeem the laid to rest crime of slaughtering our people in Whiteriver''s territory."


    Smile slipping substantially, Orison rejoined, "Why, we are practically unwitting allies there. Had we but known of our mutual interests such an unfortunate tragedy could have been avoided entirely. For your assistance with the murder of House Riven''s malcontents I retroactively dedicate my inheritance donation, to the families of my honor band that became collateral damage in that incident, in the name of the Revivalist faction. I do hope you enjoyed the outcome of the legate you were trying to kill and his erstwhile paramour House Riven''s patriarch. Such a coincidence, is it not? Of course, I claim no involvement as it was ruled a ritual suicide between two disgraced men. Long may your land and blood remain free of foreign taint, venerable."


    The prime speaker''s gnarly and grim face cracked a rictus smile as he said, "Young Cantrip, you may be one of the only foreigners I don''t want to kill. You are your own people''s worst enemy. I can''t wait to hear of your trail of destruction through Centerland before they finally put you down."


    Orison replied, "Venerable''s words honor me too much. May your revered corpse continue to serve your family''s needs after the long sleep claims you, as whole or in parts it may be."


    Elder Fvaris clapped her hands once to end further retort and spoke. "You already know what I wish to hear, Orison. Consequences make themselves apparent with the passing of time, which I expect you to address of your own accord without prompting. What I give you a chance for is to vocalize what benefits have or will be obtained by us to offset them."


    Orison bowed again to the Fvaris elder and said, "For the initial, half the total goods delivered where offered to New Fvaris at market value to make first pick before being disseminated into the surrounding area at same rate. The merchant would not have been a third as generous aside from essential foodstuffs and seeds. Not only did this grant a significant reduction in anticipated cost, it forced the other subsidiary merchants to offer better pricing competitively.


    "Disruption to consulate work may have only affected New Fvaris in minor ways but the number of minor ways it did so could have been staggering as a whole. Since that''s only speculation, I''ll leave it at that. This first delivery was of paramount importance and well did the patricians who backed this enterprise know this. Ensuring that the next merchant who comes doesn''t disrupt order and treads lightly may not seem like much of a benefit but you know as well as I that instead of trying to haggle like a housewife at the street vendors, they''ll be trying to gain favor over competitors and therefore offer better prices since the momentum has been lost."


    Elder Fvaris said, "The whole reason for the temporary truce was so that we could hold reputable trade status long enough to get what we needed. Your actions seem contrary to the honorable dowager''s goals. Explain to us how this incident affects those goals and how your continued protection doesn''t endanger them."


    Ignoring the return of the Revivalist speaker''s rictus grin, Orison spoke leisurely, "The amount of goods that you received exceeded minimum expectations but that was only half of them. The other half is being held as reward for the fastest merchant arrival with a matching or higher amount of desired trade goods in value. That assures not only more expedient filling of your submitted wish list, it also insures competition and competition means lower costs.


    "You would know better than I what would happen if I were to die or the consulate was attacked. Merchants can overlook death but once a deal is broken, you really would have to worry about reputation and my death would signal a free for all on those stored goods... I''ve entertained this, honored venerables but I haven''t heard, not once in any of these meetings anything other than how I may serve you better or provide you with benefits. I weary of providing without anything to show for my efforts. Even a slave gets the good will of his master when he earns merit. Aside from the lovely goddess of mercy to my right, who has my gratitude and admiration for all time, the benefits your dowager has extended to me have ran their course. In crude vernacular, ladies and gentleman, put up or shut up."


    The Revivalist speaker jumped to his feet and bellowed, "If not for the dowager, you would be dead or in a collar right now, child! You put your nose where you''re told and grind it if you want to live long enough to get your piece of land stolen from us."


    Orison bellowed back, "If not for the dowager I wouldn''t p*ss on you to put out a fire! Your lesson is canceled indefinitely. Beg your knowledge from Fvaris like you should have from the beginning, ingrate!"


    The meeting devolved to chaos that the Fvaris elder could no longer contain. Fortunately for her, she didn''t have to. A moment before the Revivalist speaker would have rushed past the Progressive speaker to escalate argument into magic battle with Orison, a loud screech of metal on slate preceded a thunderous boom that shook the building and knocked fine dust from its ribs.


    Dowager Fvaris came tapping her way into the room with her black metal tipped cane. "Everyone, sit down and stop all this useless squawking. Not you, girl. I''ll not be standing. You may stand beside me and attend."


    The dowager took her time to get comfortable in the Fvaris chair and gave everyone a cold gaze before locking her dead, black holes trapped in glass on Orison. "Was a small holiday not enough recovery time to replenish your patience or do you have something to add worthy enough for me to hear, boy."


    As if his earlier emotional outbursts were a lie, Orison didn''t even blink as he squared off stares with the dowager. "Granny Xia, you knew as well as I did that as soon as there was nothing of note to be gained, the Revivalists would start trying ways to squeeze me for more. What I didn''t expect was that your grandniece would as well. Instead of tolerating until a better time to address our cooperation moving forward, why not open it now. It seems a fortuitous day to do so as a far more important meeting is being gathered to the north, is it not?"


    Shocked surprise, joined the vitriol dripping from the Revivalist speaker''s face as the old Fvaris matron said, "Enough of matters that do not concern any in this room, including myself. Cut to the chase and tell me what you''re wanting and why we should give it to you, little monster."


    Orison said, "It''s not about what I want. It''s about what I''m not getting, that I was promised. My aid was supposed to buy me a smooth wall behind my back so I could leverage weight against manipulators in Centerland. All I''m seeing is an iron maiden waiting for me to be pushed into it... When I killed that malcontent, I pushed on the benefits to you. It was far in excess of what would be considered reasonable for your support. Cheaper goods and more to be delivered quicker, also cheaper than you had any reason to expect, is your payout.


    "I did it this way, without prior discussion because that''s the way Fvaris likes things done. Results. Now, I didn''t expect accolades or gratitude but I did expect that, having honored our deal and payed in advance for little more than not having teeth bared at me from both sides, I would get a seal of satisfaction from Fvaris."


    Dowager Fvaris spoke quietly with her grandniece before turning to Orison and said, "Half of what you said on our supposed benefits is mere speculation but I won''t have my clan playing Centerland games behind my back when it was my reputation used to broker our deal. Until the bitter outweighs the sweet by two to one in our favor, this will NOT happen again. Be warned, little monster. My scales are exacting but I do not lie when I close a deal."


    With a speed and viciousness that made jest her apparent fragility, the dowager cracked her grandniece in the head with her cane then said, "And I will not tolerate my clan attempting to turn my words into lies behind my back. If you do not want your sister taking your place in this chair next year, your performance will be exemplary... Speaker of the Right, I have no sway in your clan but I have your ancestor''s regard. If I have to spend that regard to have you replaced, I will. Speaker of the Left, your actions are only correct out of coincidence but it will count against prior ill advised actions... Anything to add, Orison?"


    Knocked out of sympathetic musing over the Fvaris elder''s bleeding head and dull eyed acceptance of brutality, speaking years of heavy-handedness, Orison replied, "I''d like permission to spend tomorrow touring the deeper bay for potential suggestions on it''s use since I won''t be teaching the Speaker of the Right''s clan directly. If allowed, I''ll write up a report of findings for you after I return to the consulate. It doesn''t sit well coming so close to perfectly completing a task only to stop at the last step but I refuse to subject myself to that much loss of face. This is the best compromise I can come to."


    The dowager crisply responded, "Granted... I see another point of contention about dealings with a werewolf on the docket but this will be waived as I only see a healer doing what a healer must to be respected. Their kind are only tolerated at northern ports and only for as long as official business permits. If you should see her before we capture her or any other such opportunities present themselves, pass on that message."


    Suppressing a cold sweat, Orison replied, "Of course, Granny Xia."


    After the meeting was dismissed, Orison requested to speak with the Revivalist prime speaker. Angry and annoyed but also curious, the speaker relented.


    Taking out a velum, Orison drew out a crude map from memory of the west beach area and explained, "I was originally going to leave this for the consulate as it''s knowledge isn''t worth anything to me because the fruit of this benefit will take time but..."


    Orison explained the location, maturity cycle and care of the tubular plants that were the main ingredient for persistent breath potions.


    Orison then went on to say, "It''s only our misfortune to have the consulate built on land technically to be under your control in the future. Consider this an offering to take the sting out of our bad blood and to keep our war to one of words across the table instead of under it or arrows in the dark."


    Reluctantly, the speaker nodded and said, "I don''t like you and I never will but I''ll keep to the truce. I''ll make sure the other clan does as well but afterwards all cooperation is over."


    Orison said, "You don''t have to like me. I think I''d be repulsed at the kind of sick masochist I''d have to be to earn your regard. We can, not go out of our way to step on each other''s toes... I don''t want to be here almost as much as you don''t want me here. Lets see how fast both of us can be satisfied on that issue. I''m open to constructive opinions on that whenever you discover one."


    With an amused expression that came across as sneering disdain, the speaker said, "None that you''d want to hear at this time but I''ll contemplate it... I feel compelled to ask. Did you actually have anything to do with that legate''s death?"


    Orison smiled deviously and said, "I only spoke a thought once, other''s were inclined to listen... The answer to anyone else asking me that question will forever be no."


    The speaker said softly, "When the day comes that I am able to wipe that accursed blight of a consulate off the face of this island, if you and yours are still in it, I''ll buy your clan a head start and a few sloppy first volleys."


    Seeing the genuine sadness and impotent rage on the face of his erstwhile tormentor, out of whim, Orison leaned in close and whispered, "I humiliated him in front of Whiteriver himself, even his centurion captain didn''t stop me... Returning home with his career in tatters, he was caught like wild prey. He was bled to near death, then poisoned. Even his soul wasn''t spared. He died bereft of everything and dishonored after that."


    The old man let out a cackling laugh that held hints of hatred fueled madness and said as he walked away, "A beautiful bedtime story. Perhaps I may yet sleep well tonight."


    Making his way back to the quarters provided to his group as slowly as he could, Orison went over the meeting in his mind. There were parts that could have went better but since the squeeze session was only a matter of time, he believed lancing the boil early was better than waiting. The part that still bothered him was the duration of the truce.


    In theory, the truce should last a little over two years but could become significantly less if the obsidian elves found a way to stabilize sooner. He set in his mind that the next goal was to get the person wanting to claim a senior legate position sitting in the hot seat as soon as possible. Since an emissary position was ripe for the taking, Orison held little doubt that his small family was due for a change of address very soon.


    Absorbed in thought, the person closing in from behind went unnoticed. The sound of a dull, metallic thud registered confusion in Orison''s suddenly foggy mind as he turned around to see what made it. Jelly legged and blurry eyed, he looked at the fuzzy silhouette before him as if to ask them what was happening. The darkening figure reached towards him, producing the same sound again but accompanied by a bright flash in his vision before he lost sight and consciousness.

 28 OEW

    "Elder, he''s waking up," a man''s voice said.


    A melodious woman''s voice replied, "Apply silence on all four once more... Beaten and sore, for the lore of last score, I want them to know what death lies in store! Haha, poetry is truly a remarkable restorative to one''s soul!"


    Head pounding, a faint ringing in his ears, Orison looked around and at himself to see that him and his three companions were wrapped up like mummies in semi-dried seaweed. A clearing of throat drew his attention up and onto Elder Zhu, Dowager Xia''s grandniece.


    He tried every spell he knew but the magic moved through him like molasses and whatever was causing the sickly sweet taste in his mouth came to mind as the culprit. If his head wasn''t a booming drum of eye watering pain, he may have been able to muddle through something simple but whatever was causing the gut wrenching dizzy euphoria was only making it harder and not easier to ignore.


    "I can see some lucidity in your eyes, little monster. Isn''t that what my grandaunt calls you?... I only wanted a little achievement to call my own, you know. Just a little thing that she couldn''t claim was earned for the clan by her hands. It''s all I wanted. Now every opponent I have, will be trying to see my sister take the seat I shed blood, sweat and tears for. I can''t be having that, so my poor little sister will have to join you, I''m afraid.


    "No matter. Your disappearance will earn me a friend and connection in Left and Right factions both. With all those little bread crumbs you were throwing around, I bet it never occurred to you that those who have to play second seat to others would not enjoy their superiors solidifying power and racking up achievements they would get little to no benefit from.


    "But look at me monologue like a villain from a second rate play. People will remember your request to tour the deeper bay and any spells or auguries will show that''s exactly where you and your pets went. Where you went and where you died... I do hope you enjoy the little touch of a seaweed shroud. In our culture, a person of distinction is symbolically wrapped in their life''s glory and achievement before cremation but I heard that Highland people are fond of simple burial. I give you the best of both... Think fondly of me in the Abyss, Legate-in-training Cantrip."


    Elder Zhu began issuing orders to the three men with her. A few strands of seaweed were used to bind the group together temporarily as they descended ''to make later place of death auguries a little easier''. Zhu''s drugged and unconscious ''little sister'' was loosely tied with his group after being force fed the enduring breath potion Orison had gifted Elder Zhu on the first day of lessons as an emergency life saving measure. Orison bitterly recognized the irony of it being used to control the timing of another''s death.


    With bits and pieces of information slips during their preparations, Orison realized that they planned on martyring Zhu''s sister as a way of showing that Clan Fvaris was ''noble'' and push the whole ordeal on to the back of an ''irresponsible child''. With detached interest, Orison listened to Zhu commanded a few small cuts be placed on them to attract sea predators and scavengers to their bodies. The devil''s advocate of Orison''s logical mind, evaluated the plan highly.


    The seaweed would begin to work loose after a couple of hours of swaying and re-hydration. The bodies, no longer bound and weighted, would drift apart and what parts were still salvageable after the predators and scavengers were through with them, would not be able to prove anything other than the story she tried to make their deaths into. Forensic science was a laughable joke in this world to begin with.


    With a Judas kiss to her sleeping sister''s cheek, Zhu ordered them to be pushed overboard. Sinking steadily from the weights resting in the wraps under their feet, the group of four plus one trailing ''sleeping beauty'' was being drawn into the inky depths. A few seconds of panicky squirming and Orison forced himself to calm down and think of a solution.


    With little to lose in the attempt, Orison focused intently on his space and tried to force summon his circlet equipped. With imaginary fingers crossed that the circlet wouldn''t partially materialize inside his head, he carefully visualized the outline of his body and the parameters of the circlet, overlapped. He was mostly successful. Outside of a small spot of pressure split skin and a few strands of yanked out hair, it wasn''t as dangerous as he thought it would be.


    An errant thought slipped past as he contemplated his next step. "With a little careful practice, assuming familiarity with the item in question, and I''ll be switching out equipment sets like a game sprite. Don''t know if I''ll ever trust myself with skin tight stuff or underwear though."


    Out of all of them, Rithus had it the worst. Knowing he could potentially outlast the seaweed shroud, Zhu had him worked over fiercely and the light cut''s on everyone else was exchanged for a shank to the Marshlander''s lung. Rithus had precious little time until death would claim him first.


    Wiggling his head over as far as he could, Orison opened his mouth and summoned the neck of a healing potion between his teeth, trying to snag it before their decent pulled it away. Two of his small collection of heals were lost to the sea before he got the hang of it, and another before he managed to get the stopper facing Rithus in a way the Marshlander could make use of. Determined to not fail receiving it, Rithus simply bit the top of the bottle off, cutting his mouth on sharp glass, as he ''inhaled'' the contents. In a move that was much easier, as it had grip, Orison mouth passed his dagger to Rithus. Entrusting his only cutting tool, a problem that Orison planned on rectifying as soon as possible, to the group member with the most flexible neck seemed like the best option to Orison.


    Since Morrel was the easiest for him to reach and had already seen what the boy had been doing, Orison summoned one of his two remaining enduring breath potions to mouth pass the wood elf. As if the old man had done such a tricky underwater maneuver hundreds of times before, Morrel took the vial between his pointy teeth and made a small crack on one side then a larger on the other before sucking it down like he was taking a jello shot. A split second look between Rithus, who was hacking away at his own shoulders with reckless abandon, and the calmly evaluating wood elf, Orison wondered if he handed the wrong person his dagger.


    After a few more seconds of wrangling his last enduring breath potion over to Gan, Orison watched in fascinated horror as the Northland scout managed to work the cork off using only his lips to hold the vial. Despite the strangely amazing but utterly pointless feat, Orison felt like crying as he saw the guy try to ''drink'' the potion underwater and getting only a couple gulps of sea before the vial escaped the scout''s control. Gan stared dumbfounded at the dissipating liquid, cork stopper still wedged in his mouth.


    Shaking his head in glaring disapproval, Morrel waited until Gan spat out the cork with the last air in the scout''s lungs before he lunged in and pushed some of the magically created air in his into Gan''s own. Satisfied the scout had air for another minute or so, the wood elf looked like he didn''t know if he should laugh or cry as he twisted his way over to Rithus, snatching the knife out of the Marshlander''s mouth before Rithus accidentally hacked himself up. Filing away the heckling rights this moment had bought for future use if they survived, Orison turned his comical scene, stressed reduced mind to his surroundings.


    The current water pressure was its own form of light torture as they neared the bottom of the drop not far from the bay''s sea shelf. The water was practically pitch black this far down and at night. Left with no better option, Orison turned to the malfunctioning special sense Find Objective granted him. The static was powerful but through it, Orison felt a weak ping make it through. What excited him was that it belonged to the miasma he had grown to love and hate in equal measure.


    He wasn''t that surprised there was a spot of it here. That it was this far down and difficult to reach didn''t give him a lot of hopeful feelings that any other spots would be easy to find. Though Obsidian Island wasn''t overly familiar in build and terrain, it did generally line up with the main stomping ground of a predecessor in the series of the game he had been playing before coming here. And if that map had lined up with this real-world place, an important city would be above him. Why it was this far down was still a mystery.


    Since some time had passed, Orison tried casting again only to succeed in casting the feeble Candle Flame spell but nothing else. Still, the spot of light allowed the freed Rithus and Morrel to find him, Gan and the tethered woman who was still peacefully sleeping, oblivious to her near death experience. Once freed, the mystery of why his head wasn''t getting better was solved. Orison realized that he had been robbed on top of everything else.


    When Morrel swam in front of Orison and tilted his head, pointing up, the boy shook his head and pointed to where the sense was telling him to go. Morrel shrugged his shoulders and made a sundial figure on the palm of his hand to indicate his query on how much time they had before the potion''s effect wore off. An important issue for Gan and himself since they had to occasionally make each other uncomfortable for Gan to not drown.


    Orison indicated the potion should last for around half an hour before it started wearing off. Morrel gauged the distance to the surface and gave fifteen, ten more additional minutes than they likely needed but Morrel made judgments more conservatively when risks were higher. Orison nodded before he was off towards his goal.


    The boy lead the way as Morrel pulled, the more miserable by the moment, Gan along and Rithus dragged the woman by her seaweed tether. Ignoring the temptation of relishing the imagination altered sight of a ''reptile child'' skipping along with an ''elf balloon'', complete with a small panicked chase when the ''string'' snapped, Orison had found his goal a little after the second pucker session between Morrel and Gan.


    Within a dilapidated ruin of a structure, a surprisingly clean ''tasting'' pocket of air was trapped in the corner of a tilted blocky room. As Gan greedily sucked in unexpected fresh air with teary-eyed joy, Orison heard what sounded somewhat like an upside-down wooden bowl rotating on a wobbly axis. The sound grew stronger as he reached down to shift sand, finding a mask with a mildly disturbing, bestial image.


    Traces of blood red light filtered in from the low wall crack they had swam in through, several feet behind them.


    The star-like spark of condensed alien energy exploded in light and color leaving them all standing in what looked like an underground warehouse. With a quick word of caution to not touch anything until he was done looking around, Orison checked the perimeter of the strangely created spacial area. Behind the lower door of the warehouse was an empty corner of a wood cabin, a hand sized corner of frosty window let red light spill into the interior. Backtracking to the upward leading door revealed an enclosed piece of ancient and elegant underground structure lit by a flicking, in and out of illusionary state, floating crystal.


    Dismissing both oddly grafted additions as unhelpful, Orison returned to his companions and began digging through the crates and bins. The rules of this place seemed to be the opposite of the last ''fairy gift'' place he had been as things became illusionary after he had decided he didn''t want them. A fact he discovered when going through a crate filled with books as he picked out the ones that granted skill.


    While book sorting, Orison said, "Guys, I need you to go through this warehouse and pile up all the items that look like food, vegetation or otherwise alchemy looking on this side of me. Treat anything else you find as being potentially dangerous, unless there''s absolutely no need to think so, and pile those on the other side. Let''s do this as quick as possible because I don''t want our napping friend here to wake up before I''m done."


    As his companions chipped in to help while Orison stuffed his head with the occasional skill find, what and where they were finding things sparked a memory of a shadowy person playing on his console and asking him if it was really alright to stuff all their belonging in this place. Vaguely, Orison felt like the memory should have hurt but it felt so distant and lacking in vividness, the unintentional reminder of his lost lover brought nothing but a touch of melancholy nostalgia. The memory did let him get a good idea of what he would find and what he wouldn''t.


    His ex-lover was an orderly hoarder of foodstuffs, pretty things and books but disdained carrying anything beyond personal equipment when it came to tools of violence. Somewhat disheartened that the rules that governed how this worked didn''t choose his last save but the last save, period, he was never the less ecstatic of the fortune after disaster. That joy hiccuped when Gan shined an apple on his soggy pants, took a bite of it just to see it disappear and started making scared sounds while swatting the air around his ears.


    Orison jumped up and ran over to Gan speaking with insistence, "What''s wrong, Gan? Tell me what you''re experiencing."


    Looking somewhat pale from fright, Gan said, "I was a bit hungry so I thought I''d just eat one of these apples but it didn''t really go to my gut so much as got soaked into me... Then I started hearing all these whispers that sound like you, now that I think about it, but I couldn''t understand what they were saying."


    Orison''s eyebrows shot up as he said, "How do you feel?"


    "Fine, I guess. I might have felt a little tingle but I don''t know if it was in my head or not, since I nearly had the sh*t scared out of me," the scout said.


    Asking them to gather around for a moment, Orison cleaned off a crate then dumped one of the food bags on top of it. He then grabbed a box he knew had nothing but gems, crystals and a few pieces of nice jewelry in it, then dumped them into the empty sack.


    Orison said, "I have to be really careful how I say this so listen closely and try to catch all the subtle meanings within what I''m going to say. If I told you there was a strange fruit that might make you stronger, grant you magic and maybe more but might also turn you partially or even fully into a person of Highland decent, would you want that?


    Morrel added, "There would be a price to pay for one who straddled the line between one race and another too evenly. Do you know of this, Orison? It doesn''t happen often so it''s not common knowledge."


    Orison shook his head.


    Morrel grunted softly and continued, "The state is derogatorily referred to as a mule. When peoples of two races create life together consistently, some of their offspring show more than signs of the other, not fully expressed lineage. They become essentially stuck between the two and are unable to produce offspring with either. I have been told that at one point in ancient history, there was a community of half elves capable of infrequently bearing offspring with each other but not much, if anything, is recorded about such a community and it''s mostly treated as myth."


    Although that objection made Orison pause, Rithus said, "One life leads to another, happening many small times, sometimes big. It is strange but also exciting to imagine such a passing as this. I was sma-"


    While Rithus waxed more eloquently than usual, some simple yet occasionally hard to understand Marshland philosophy, Gan started eating.


    When Morrel asked him about his lack of hesitation, during a particularly rough shudder, he said, "Wouldn''t have done it maybe if Gran was still around but I don''t have anyone except the little boss man over there and his mom. You two, uh, too if you like, if not... I doubt anyone cares if everything shrinks some. Well, it''d be nice if THAT didn''t bec-"


    Orison paused in the middle of his alternating focused gains session to growl menacingly, "Gan! Finish that sentence and I''ll make you spit it all back out."


    Putting the potions, enchantments and learning on hold, Orison remembered some partially forgotten desires to further refine possible loopholes in his wishes. Flipping around the mental notebook of ideas, Orison did manage to make some small but useful additions. The biggest but most vain of those was to further define ''Highland people person'' as a male Highlander who was as appealing as possible, within the limitations of his already preset genetic variance, to any who generally find Highland males appealing.


    While rolling around the changes that were being made to him, Orison discovered that the ''year of age appropriate magical and physical training'' were showing more coordinated and positive results. As his own understanding of what he wanted and what could be used to obtain that desired result became clearer, not to mention his glacier increase in maturity, the alien energy diverted to that task had a great many more blanks to fill in. Although he wasn''t sure, having the three other men and the sleeping, possibly mage, in the room might also have fine tuned that wish''s functionality.


    Before returning to the nearly impossible task of time efficient, prioritized by most needed, resource usage, Orison thought, "No wonder Morrel was so disturbed at my physical condition. I basically had ''body by high school gym teacher'' and ''more magic is gooder'' training. If I hadn''t ended up getting his help, by the time I got through here, I''d likely have ended up with failing organs and ruptured magic conduits... Every single one of my wishes had more death traps than a table top adventure module. I''m starting to wonder if I should be terrified of my storage space. It''s obviously got some freaky things going on with it."


    While Gan and Rithus entered into an eating while they worked contest, Morrel was more deliberate and slow but steady about both. Done with book sorting, Orison turned the three towards the modest pile of skill books to alternate through as they made their back and forth drop offs. By the time that Orison had made and stored away what he considered the most important potions and a handful of ''kind of cheated to make'' enchantments, Gan and Rithus were starting to exibit some fairly noticable changes while Morrel only looked noticeably younger, which wasn''t saying much.


    With nearly the whole warehouse sacked and sorted, Orison illusion misted everything outside of a few feet beyond the piles. During Orison''s explanation of which piles were for what, a particular bin that was on the edge of the ''real'' space, fell and rolled out into ''real world'' space. A recognizable dress and an ominous staff that had no business being in this wish space, came shooting out of the bin like it was a cannon.


    The unfortunate Marshlander, blinded by the offending apparel and taking a nasty hit to his shoulder from the stick, hissed in startled pain. Attempting to slap the entangled items away from him, Rithus'' unfamiliar fledgling magic gift activated the staff uncontrolled. After spitting out three chaotic discharges of energy, the staff disappeared from the world. Unfortunately, one of those discharges hit Orison.

 29 OEW

    In the creature''s barely cohesive thoughts, "Mortals, not hostile. Worshipers? Need to unblock the gate below me. Break the ground... Worshipers are making loud noises, sometimes they do that... Unformed ones are coming through, just a little more. What is this pain? Something is twisting me inside... I can''t move. No, stupid worshipers, don''t feed me... Unblock the gate!"


    Orison floated in a dark place but he wasn''t stationary. Something pulled him. In a second, an eternity, he found himself before a blue-green sun that shown with the bright liveliness of a Caribbean sea. Passing it''s outer expression, he found himself in a place that was a mashup of giant mall, temple and a touch of furnishings that made it feel like a home.


    Passing a mirrored wall, he expected to either see a sandy haired boy or a tired and gloomy man. He saw neither. Instead, the reflection showed a person somewhere between man and boy, something between human and otherworldly. With a guilty subtle checking of his surroundings, he inspected other features before breaking into a perverse smile.


    "We really are a vain person, aren''t we?" a mirthful boy''s voice said behind him.


    Ears burning, Orison whipped around to see a ghostly visage of the original. "I thought we were merged. Is something wrong?"


    Exasperated, boy Orison replied, "Nothing''s wrong. We ARE merged. To put it in a way you''ll understand without getting all metaphysical, I''m a subordinated processor to the main one. You know, if you want to see the entire soul as a computer."


    Teen Orison said, "I wanted to be equal with you, not subordinate you or whatever!"


    Boy Orison laughed and said, "You''re still holding on to this fantasy that you''re Al pretending to be Orison until the two of you are one proper soul? No wonder I look like the boy instead of Al... Most of what makes me yours, CAME from Al, statistically speaking. You were technically already one soul as soon as you woke up... What made you so confused and caused you to jump to conclusions wasn''t your soul, it was your mind.


    "Once again, to keep things simple, I''ll use tech you understand. If you liken a soul to a cassette tape, then the spiritual planes are magnetic fields. Over the time it takes souls to pass through them, maybe reincarnating or facing some semi-permanent afterlife scenario, their old lives are forgotten. The duality discomfort you feel is because neither soul was purged of its nurture aspect. Aaaand the child''s body has a significantly different ''nature'' than Al''s body did. You handled it well, considering your misunderstanding. At least you didn''t have a psychotic break."


    Orison looked at the boy shaped entity and asked, "Okay, let''s take all of that as true, for the moment... I get what you say you are but how did you come to be and what are you willing to tell me about ''you''."


    The ghostly boy said, "I''m willing to share everything about me but you won''t understand it, shouldn''t even try to. It would be bad for your spiritual and mental health... I see the suspicion, so let me give you a piece of evidence. I am the spiritual equivalent of what your space is, intermediaries between the parts of yourself you have yet grown and evolved the ability of your meta and mundane consciousness to safely interact with directly. Because you created the ''inventory space'' and I, you can continue absorbing ''alien energy'' and foreign spiritual essence without the nearly endless concerns a mortal would usually have from doing so, until one day, you won''t be one anymore."


    Massaging his head, Orison said, "Anything else you do for me or anything else it would be good for me to know? Also, I think it would be good to name you something so I don''t think of you as me, us, whatever."


    The child specter said, "Though I may be distinctive, I AM still a part of you. Attempting to separate me completely would be unsafe... How about Interface, no, Beta. If Orison is Alpha and Omega of this internal space, then I would be Beta. I am, after all, a part of yourself that will see many ''editions'' and ''updates'' as you grow.


    "As for what I do for you and useful knowledge, if I know it then you already do but I suppose I can give you an uncluttered perspective of that. Honestly though, we won''t have many chances to allow you to talk to yourself like this. You shouldn''t even want them.


    "Since you''re about to wake up, I can tell you a quick thing or two that your dissonance keeps you from seeing clearly... Soul crystals are spirit poop. It''s what your soul, body and ''space'' either don''t want or can''t use safely. By inference, eternium crystals are miracle grow, processed and super concentrated spirit poop. It''s creation breaks down many of the impurities within soul crystals, allowing it to be used in small quantities to invigorate mortal bodies and magic conduits but it is still filled with things that aren''t good for physical vessels.


    "Creating enchantments are a great intermediary for understanding it''s usage but the next logical step is the creation of artifacts. It''s a large and dangerous step though. Take your time and learn more. Continue being as thirsty for know-"


    Orison sat up, coughing and spluttering. While his vision was clearing, he felt the need to remove and readjust his loincloth as it was biting fiercely into his waist and other more sensitive areas.


    In an unfamiliar, mellow voice, Orison asked, "What happened?"


    "The stick that hit Rithus, turned you into a monster. Since you sort of looked reptilian, I asked Rithus if he could talk to you since you didn''t seem to understand us. For whatever reason, when he knelt down and made some sounds at you, you just nodded and started busting a hole through the floor.


    "We didn''t know what to do about that since Rithus told us not to get close to you or you might attack but as soon as you fell down I started giving you some of the food because you said it would turn people into Highlanders. Morrel made fun of me but looks like I''ll get to laugh now because it worked... mostly."


    Panicked and wishing his eyes would clear faster, Orison said, "What do you mean by ''mostly'', Gan?"


    Gan took a sharp breath and paused, making Orison''s anxiety wrench up several notches before the scout said solemnly, "I-It''s just... You lost some time. It''s not a lot, not really."


    Nearly in a hyperventilating state, Orison wanted to hit Gan for scaring him needlessly.


    Laughing in relief, Orison asked, "How old do I look exactly?"


    Gan''s silhouette looked Orison over critically and said, "The only light in here''s coming from the ghost crystal behind you and, uh, a bit from your eyes but that''s got a lot more normal in the last little. I''d say somewhere between fifteen and twenty, er, seventeen...Yeah, don''t worry about it. I''m sure you didn''t lose that much."


    Orison shook his head at the irony of his situation. He had been so worried about not growing fast enough and overshot his mark. His mind already started turning on how to flip it around to work for him.


    Casting a brighter light spell, Orison stuck it to the ceiling and consigned what remained of the room to illusion status, noticing that further alchemy would be pointless since all the ''edible'' looking ingredients had at some point ended in his or Gan''s mouth.


    "Where''s everyone else?" Orison asked.


    Gan chuckled and said, "The trussed hen started to wake up so Rithus and Morrel took her back. The Marshlander''s more than a sight better off. We all are. It''s just that most people here never really payed much attention to Rithus and Morrel can hide...really well. You and I aren''t that, um, recognizable. I mean, we are but not in a way that doesn''t raise questions."


    With softer and better balanced lighting, now that he wasn''t standing with his back to the breaking down crystal, Orison discovered that his sight wasn''t actually that bad at all. Evaluating Gan, Orison understood what the scout meant. If the Northlander wouldn''t have stood out in a group of vikings before, after miasma created food gorging, Gan would blend in better with a group of quarterbacks or college gymnasts.


    Orison thought, "Trimmed, streamlined and balanced sums it up. No big changes, just a crap ton of tiny ones that adds up to an overall big difference." out loud he said, "I don''t see it. I mean, sure, it''s a drastic change but not for people who don''t know you well."


    Gan looked at Orison in disbelief and said, "If someone is half blind. My face is as smooth and hairless as a baby''s butt. Do you think there''s a single Northlander man who doesn''t at least have stubble? If my backside hadn''t swollen like I sat on a fire ant nest, my pants would have slid clean off. Look, I''m not complaining about anything. I''m just saying I look like a completely different person. If I insisted I was me and they knew what I should look like, they''d notice too much. If I didn''t insist I was me, they would escort me directly to their prison."


    Orison was going to ask about the changes of the other two but as he was getting ready to, his senses picked up a wisp of soul shooting into his space. Tracking it to it''s source, Orison noticed the hole under the illusionary floor that exposed the corner of a translucent, oily tinted window to another place that was framed in a corner of gold plated bone. Even as he looked, an impish looking creature on the other side saw him and dove through, turning into a wisp that got sucked straight into him, spooking him yet again.


    Turning his senses inward, Orison noted that he had a great deal many small and medium sized crystals that had, overall, taken more of the filtered latticework than they had given. In that moment, he had reached two conclusions. This was an Abyss gate that could not be left open and if he wasn''t snatching the things up as they appeared, him and his friends would have been overwhelmed and killed.


    After Orison assured Gan that he had no intentions on continuing to unearth the gate any more than he needed to destroy it, he bent to the task of studying it to figure out how, safely. Cracking the frame might blow them up. He didn''t have the time or understanding of it to deactivate it from his side either. After two hollow eyed people shuffled by only to be shunted through the exposed portal corner, adding to Orison''s wisp collection adding another diminutive net loss to his lattice filter, Orison saw it was clear.


    Cautiously peaking to the other side, Orison saw what was powering the portal. Two mummified people were chained around it to make a macabre mirror frame. It was their energy that was keeping it open. Noticing that the chains were incredibly rusty and loose, he opened the hole on his side just wide enough to fit them through, one after the other. As soon as the two were on his side, the gate powered down, cutting the chains cleanly enough that the only thing binding the corpses to the chains any longer were the forked spikes driven through shoulder, hip and ankle bone.


    Horrified, Gan said, "Why did you drag those things over here? Quick, let''s cut them up and burn them."


    Orison glared and Gan and said, "If you light a fire in here and burn up our air, making me waste multiple potions to get the rest of-"


    He paused to hear a raspy whisper repeat itself. "Please...help...me."


    The mummy thing on his right wasn''t dead or undead, it was alive. Cold pragmatism and compassion warred in Orison''s head while he staved off Gan from dismembering the impossibly alive creature in front of him. Wary of hostile action, Orison decided to treat this case as he had the werewolf woman''s. He had Gan stand at moderate distance with arrow trained as he removed the spikes as gentle as he could while sending light touches of healing to stabilize a body that should have long since expired.


    The body, for all intents and purposes, responded to his magic as if it were not alive. Holes did not close and flesh did not mend. Exhausting all the lesser options at his disposal with no signs of improvement, the urge to deliver mercy rather than healing grew a bit stronger.


    In a last ditch effort to compromise between his overly altruistic conscience and the pragmatic side telling him that saving a stranger from the Abyss carried too many unknown dangers, Orison grabbed a bottle of purely beneficial ''game wine'' and sent the will message to make it ''real''. In his earlier experiments here, Orison discovered that the food only acted as alchemy ingredients in his hand and only acted as a conduit to his wish alterations for others. Drinks were different. They acted the same as ''game food'' did if another got to them first but if he touched them, he could ''bring it to reality'' proper. Then it proved it''s benefits and detriments closer to something between potion and recreational beverage.


    As he slowly trickled the wine into the mummy''s desiccated mouth, Orison thought, "If this does nothing, I didn''t waste a precious life saving resource and I guess I can consider it a toast to better fortune in the afterlife for the poor thing."


    Orison observed carefully as he slowly poured the wine. The only observable effect was, the body was so dry that it soaked the wine in like a sponge. As the body took in the last drops of the bottle, Orison prepared himself to deliver, as kindly as he could, his merciful death sentence.


    In the middle of trying to figure out how to address the thing, He heard the whisper again, "Very weak but useful...magic of...low dimension... is too thin... but this...hel-"


    As the mental whisper became to weak to hear again, Orison weighed the metaphorical feather against his heart, yet again. When he had pulled the mummy in, he had only wanted to close the portal but now he was faced with a much harder choice. He never considered himself a person of faith but he had the clear compass of a person raised on it''s values and turning a back on someone in need that he could help felt wrong. On the other hand, this stranger needed the best of what he had to even have a shot and should he even be successful, there was a good chance it would covet what he himself wanted or had... It didn''t sit well for either side of his ethical quandary that what tipped him towards aiding the stranger was his curiosity towards what it knew.


    Calling another illusionary drink into reality, he poured it down just a bit faster and said, "I want your binding oath that you will do me and mine no harm and that you will freely share what knowledge you possess, um, that the laws of this reality will allow you to."


    With some time to form it all and a couple more bottles of wish booze that made the mental whisper a bit fuzzy around the edges, it said, "I will these words within the structure of my key and upon the structure of the tower I climb: I will no harm upon the one who aids me or those this one claims under their protection. I will to share what I may of knowledge to this one until I am bid to rise within the structure of my tower once more."


    Orison thought, "Wow, I could feel that. When I said binding oath I was just putting some dramatics into it. A sincere promise, please and thank you would have been good for me!"


    "What was that, Little Boss? Never mind that. We should kill it, kill it with fire or , uh, something," Gan said anxiously.


    Stifling a chuckle, Orison said, "That was an oath. The special kind. We''re good. As a matter of fact, I think giving any more of those drinks might do more harm than good... Take a couple of these clay jugs here, get light weight hammered and chill for a bit."


    Gan took the jugs but instead of enjoying them on the spot, he tucked them away carefully in his bag of goodies and sat a bit away, shooting a stink eye at the ''juicy'' mummy. What followed was a trial and error of remaining materials. Raw food was apparently ''structure poison'' as it carried Orison''s will within it. Of the remaining alchemical ingredients and what he could do with the meager remaining pile of mundane food, stamina enhancements were the only ones that gave minute but consistent trickle benefit. The skill enhancers all flickered dangerously between real and unreal in the tiny bit of illusory space left and did next to nothing. The one cure poison potion seemed to help tremendously which made black lines form on Orison''s face.


    Once again in debate, Orison thought, "So the thing ''she'' needs the most right now is detoxification... Finding out I''m dealing with a woman makes it even harder to just throw my hands up... What the hell is she made out of!? I could have saved a small army with what she needed just to go from crypt keeper lich to stereotypical zombie. Well, a zombie with pretty, lavender eyes... Okay, newly awakened hormone monster. That is a full stop, hell no. Even if she turned into a celestial fairy, I''m going to see ''this'' in my mind every time I look at her. I''d have to find a whole new term for that kind of ''heavy'' because cougar and snow leopard aren''t even enough... Graveyard panther, maybe?"

 30 OEW

    Gem like eyes set inside of a grotesque ''living'' cadaver followed Orison''s self agonizing pacing.


    A much more lively feminine tinted mental voice said to him, "I can only imagine the sacrifice such precious and undoubtedly finite resources symbolize for you. And pouring them down what must seem like a bottomless hole, for a complete stranger, it''s far above what anyone could reasonably ask... It''s difficult beyond measure for a higher dimensional existence to convalesce in a lower one. If it wasn''t for all the- all the horrid things those creatures used to make me a source for that gate, I could recover on my own to some small degree. I-I''m compelled by oath to say that you have done enough to sustain my existence. I..."


    Orison glanced over to see his gruesome patient stare at the ceiling as a tear trailed from her eye and thought, "I get it, okay. Tortured for who knows how long by who knows what, you just want to get home or away from here at least... Here''s this local ignorant savage that pulled you off the ant hill you were slowly being eaten on, who surprisingly has a first aid kit in a place that barely knows what clean water is, but he''s bogarting the bandages and rubbing alcohol. To him it''s life saving stuff but to you it''s probably just the crap you sometimes remember to replace because if you really needed help, you''d go get ''real'' medicine."


    Clearing away the indecision, Orison pulled out four potions and administered them one by one, asking her while trying to gauge the effectiveness. It saddened him to find out that the healing potion was about as effective as stamina boosters. The cure poison potion produced mild but considerably less effect than the first one and the cure disease popped out a thin film of black sewage from her withered pores. After a quick check up on her, he bit his lip until it bled as he gave her a second cure disease that had also drastically reduced in effect from the first time.


    With luck, he had managed to add a third ''silver bullet'' potion to his preexisting two, three that was about to be two again. After taking the very first one he made out, and a compromise with the pragmatist inside not to waste a second one since it would likely only follow the same pattern as cure poison and disease, he administered the final ace in his sleeve. For a moment, nothing happened. Right as he was about to give in to the childish impulse to throw a tantrum, thirteen baby fist sized black orbs with red, angry script on them weakly ejected out of her major orifices.


    Orison stared numbly at them before closing the door of his imagination on what she must have endured. He didn''t want to know and the last thing she''d ever need or want was useless pity after grimly holding on for so long. The one thing he was sure he could bank on was after this woman recovered, if she recovered, he wouldn''t desire to be an abyssal denizen who crossed her path.


    Snapping out of his thoughts, Orison checked on her again to find that she had nearly returned to mummy status again after expelling a copious amount of sludge that was so foul he was glad that nothing remained of the alien energy. Because if there had been, he would have abandoned it. Passing his beloved water breathing circlet over to Gan and donning the mask that had initiated this entire scenario, Orison carefully bundled up the corpse woman and carried her off once she had been cleaned multiple times. Unable to destroy the gate directly, Orison summoned a golem out of the rubble around the mostly buried building and had it beat cracks until it collapsed.


    Swimming a long coastal route to avoid random encounters, Orison went over all that had happened as daylight filtered through the water. Aside from substantial gains, fairly substantial losses empowering his group then healing the resource pit, he had learned some important things as well. What was likely three separate nodes of alien energy had been drawn to that place and the only reason that made sense was the presence of that gate. Additionally, Orison was fairly certain that the energy was far more potent than it should have been.


    He thought, "Is it possible that the miasma sent to those other locations possesses the ability to consume and repurpose certain other types? I mean, it does for me with the soul stuff. Could there maybe be some kind of remnant in it from the source it came from?... Out there somewhere, a node might be sucking up all the rest as it feeds on some other crazy dangerous thing... If I don''t claim it, what happens? Maybe gimped Ms. Pacperson can help me understand."


    During a swim break, Gan informed Orison of the meeting spot where Morrel would be waiting for them. "I don''t know who else will be there but if it''s someone you don''t want to know more than what Morrel would tell them... In the middle of saving the Fvaris sister, we encountered a mad god artifact. It was destroyed but not before it had hurt you and affected us. I was waiting with you until you were stable enough to be moved.


    "We could tell you were coming back but didn''t know when they left if you''d be completely back to your old self when it was done. To be honest, until you mumbled something about wanting to be equal and not wanting servants or something, we didn''t even know if you were going to be, uh, you."


    Orison nodded and said, "Speaking of which, what did I look like transformed? And on a side note, where''s that dress?"


    Gan shuddered and said, "You looked like the Marshlander version of an Abyssal warrior. Rithus was beside himself... Not going to lie. When you started breaking the floor with your bare fists I was glad my pants were already wet. Bet you''re glad I stuffed some of that food in your face to help you change back."


    Not wanting to hurt Gan''s feelings but not entirely willing to lie, Orison said, "Hard to say. It might have helped me change back a little faster... The dress, Gan?"


    "Oh, right... Now don''t get the wrong idea... I have it in my bag. Everything was going see through and disappearing so I picked it up. I thought your mom might like it but I was going to have you look at it first," Gan said, a defensive look on his face.


    Orison laughed and said, "If you want to keep it you can but mom will get what I made for you instead."


    Gan turned red faced and protested a great deal too much. Orison knew the Northlander was just being too sensitive about being caught with feminine articles but thought it a good time to get a dig back for the nearly completed slur against Highlander adequacy. When Gan looked about ready to have an aneurysm, Orison relented and told him it was fine to give to Droya. It actually surprised Orison that the world laws didn''t poof it but when he looked over the enchantments he realized it had been altered to a bunch of small buffs but that was a good thing. It made it helpful without making Droya a mug target.


    Since they were waiting for tired legs to recover for a bit more, Orison gave Gan the enchanted ring he made for him and said, "I know a man''s supposed to kneel when he does this but would you-"


    Obviously not amused, Gan said, "Har har. What''s it do, little boss?"


    "Well, if it works the way it should, it''ll heal you and help you catch your wind back a little faster. In theory, it should keep you from hurting yourself if you fall down too but since the world didn''t let me keep the spell, I don''t know how good that last enchantment is," Orison said.


    The woman''s mental voice chimed in, "That will happen when the concept behind a spell conflicts with reality too much. If you were determined, you have a key to the tower. If you climb it, then the only thing of value from such knowledge will be the fundamental theory behind magic itself as the models will have to be reconfigured every new step up... I seem to be getting ahead of myself. The key and tower are usually metaphors. Climbing is both metaphor and truth."


    Once there was a moment where Gan was distracted, Orison told the woman that was wrapped in a sheet, "Thanks but focus on recovery. I''m sure both of us will be a lot happier when you''re back on your own feet again."


    A few minutes from their destination, the woman drew their attention to a cleverly hidden alcove near the shoreline. It had been abandoned for over a decade but the furnishings inside were in decent shape and with a good cleaning it was livable.


    Orison said, "I don''t want to impede your recovery by getting you to use your strength just to talk but what about this place allowed you to notice it? And there may be some reason for it but I''d like to be able to call you something besides mummy lady."


    The woman replied, "A name, even a nickname, is a symbol of a person. It can be used for many things. Those who climb the tower fall out of the habit of such courtesies. Still, I would not want to be so ungrateful... Lily, after my grandmother... There are places where the laws are weaker, small spaces within it''s structure. Those who climb and the occasional ascetic are sensitive to them but all others are the opposite, unconsciously avoiding them. You can leave me here so that I won''t draw attention."


    Seeing the practicality, Orison agreed. Being a person who believed little things matter, even if they weren''t that helpful, he took some time to situate her more comfortably. Not feeling comfortable just leaving her there in the dark, he took out a softly glowing lamp and some other mundane creature comforts to situate around her. Eventually Gan became impatient and reminded him that Droya would be growing more anxious the longer she had to wait.


    As he was leaving, Lily''s mental voice said, "Don''t let anyone examine your mask too closely. Treasure it... and thank you, for everything."


    When they reached their destination, Orison stored the mask away wondering what about it may have made it so special or different in the woman''s eyes. As far as properties went, aside from the fairly strong defensive field it gave him, it contained a preset water breathing and night sight enchantment. Seeing Droya rush up to him, he decided to stow the thought away and revisit it later.


    Droya hugged him tightly and said in a soft voice, "It doesn''t matter sweetling. I knew it was you as soon as I saw you. That awful thing may have robbed you of your childhood but you take all the time you need."


    Orison chuckled and said, "Mom, I never felt like much of a kid anyway. I''m pretty sure that most of the New Fvaris elders think I''m some sort of body snatching necromancer to begin with."


    Droya stepped back and took a better look at him then said, "Some cubs can''t wait to grow up. Perhaps you won''t feel the loss of these precious years until you''re older."


    Orison smiled wryly. "Perhaps."


    "Still, you can take pride that you shouldn''t have any trouble finding a woman who won''t mind taking care of you. Most women, at one point or another, get the feeling they''re catering to a man-child. At least you''ll have an excuse," Droya smirked.


    Slightly offended, despite knowing Droya was just trying to get his mind off of perceived depressing thoughts, Orison said, "Equally as many men find themselves playing daddy to a baby-girl too but you don''t hear them making a deal out of it."


    Snorting, Droya said, "I don''t know where you''d get such a notion, little cub, but we need to get you presentable if you''re recovered. The archmage of Frost Fort is coming to examine you personally."


    In a panic, Orison gathered back up the enchanted items and any other potentially suspicious stuff from his people and personal room. Unwilling to wear the luxurious outfit he''d gathered from the miasma node, Orison borrowed an outfit from Corvinus, Claduis'' little brother since none of his old clothes had enough leeway for him to mend them into fitting. As if to make fun of his rushed efforts, it was nearly nightfall before the archmage graced the consulate. When the man finally showed up, he dismissed courtesy and any other ''time consuming frivolity'' to get straight to the task for which he came.


    "Your channels are wide and clear and your reserve is stable without any issues. I''d say the experience you have endured has been more beneficial than harmful overall. Tis a pity to lose some of the most carefree years of a person''s life but from what I''ve gathered of your situation, I''d say you haven''t been enjoying them much anyway... If you hear any voices or feel compelled to do things that seem dangerous or destructive, send a message through whatever channel is most convenient at the time. Anything you''d like to ask me young man?" The middle aged Northlander said.


    Knowing it would seem suspicious if he had nothing to say, Orison asked, "What do you know of my father''s situation? Is it possible he could be saved?"


    The archmage said, "I''m not one to forget favors, Orison. If there was anything I could do that I thought could help, I''ve either already did it or working on it. I consider your father a friend though we did not know each other for long... Once, right before I had become a journeyman, he helped me a great deal. If not for him, I''d not have made master in such a timely manner much less archmage. I''ll not forget that...


    "No offense but I''m a busy man and I need to comb over the ruin you encountered that cursed thing in. I hope you were as forthcoming as you could be about what I should find there. Thirteen unknown orbs, a corpse and an inactivated Abyss portal was it? I honestly wished you hadn''t collapsed the building but if it had taken me longer to get there, unfortunate things might have happened. Well, I''m off."


    As he was stepping out the door, the archmage turned around and said, "Due to the sensitive nature of events, I''d appreciate you keeping a low profile for awhile and not go spreading the story of your ordeal around. It would only make things more difficult for both of us. My contemporary in Centerland has assured me that as long as Droya is taking care of the consulate for the next limited amount of time, considering your contribution to the safety of this region, your duties will be discharged in advance for meritorious service.


    "The land you have been granted has, for reasons outside of magical concerns, been relegated to the west coast in a mountain valley situated between Highland, Centerland and my own glorious country. It''s actually quite nice for a s*** hole with no apparent value... Journeyman Therridel will be meeting you there as your personal tutor. As much as the colleges would like you to attend in person, until time makes your situation less notable, it''s best for all you become reclusive. The journeyman''s presence is mandatory so try to not make things difficult for him."


    As soon as the archmage was gone, Orison said his good nights to everyone and headed to his room. Fighting off the overwhelming desire for sleep, he pulled a stack of velum sheets from his space and began reading. The papers he had found in his nightstand that were left by Nub didn''t contain anything of great importance but on a positive note, Portia had shelled out for the commission of an enchanter''s workbench.


    By the time it was finished, Orison estimated he''d be on the other side of the continent but in retrospect of distance, he''d be much closer to the vampire lord''s chapter house. It wasn''t as dire a need anymore but there were a lot of things he could accomplish with it. In hind sight, he had let a workbench get away from him but he wasn''t surprised that the manifest of inventory for their warehouse of goods taken from the manor did not include it. Considering the way of things, it had likely either misted away as soon as it was abandoned by him or it was converted and noticed by someone who knew of it''s value, making it mist away in another fashion.


    An eventful night and day had sapped Orison to a level of weariness he''d been enduring for far too long. Stripping down, he climbed into bed and prayed to whatever force that would pity him to just have one night of uninterrupted sleep or he''d turn against the gods themselves. Head hitting pillow, the greatest of all magics granted to the weary settled upon him instantly.

 31 OEW

    Over a mountain of missives and parcels, Orison caught Droya up on all the events the past two weeks had brought as he helped her sort. A large portion of less official ones were inevitably handed over to the secretary as they made their way to the consulate''s reception room where the two listened to and addressed as many concerns as they could handle while a great deal more youthful and invigorated Morrel scribbled notes and distributed documents.


    Exasperated over the sheer waste of time most of this was, Orison complained to his mother during morning break. "Over half of the crap that''s coming through that door has nothing to do with us. If this were any other consulate anywhere else, they wouldn''t have made it past your secretary. Why is she helping you in the back instead of screening time wasters in the front!?"


    Sighing, Droya said, "This is the cost of authority here. If I tried to run this place like you suggest, the secretary would pry into people''s business. Captain Nadir would be snooping through all the goods and there would be so many complaints about us running to New Fvaris and the capital that we''d be going home in disgrace or burned to the ground within a week. Probably both."


    Orison frowned, "How long has it been like this, mom?"


    "No matter, little cub. The missive that the archmage''s assistant dropped off stated that our assignment here ends on the first day of fall. I can hold up for a couple months," Droya said with a weak smile.


    Orison smiled angelically and said, "Oh, only two months? That''s not so bad... I''ll be back in just a little bit, mom. I need to relieve myself."


    As he walked out, Droya frowned with worry but didn''t stop him.


    Walking into the reception room, still holding a peaceful compassionate smile, Orison told the secretary, "You came here as part of a trade. You wanted to learn how empire business was done and we wanted some secretarial help. You know how to do secretarial work, right? It was on your recommendation when we chose you over three other candidates, yes?"


    The secretary''s professional smile grew stiff as she responded, "That''s right, so if-"


    "So sit your a** down in that chair and screen our visitors. Send trade matters back to the trade house at the dock and security matters to the captain''s aid. If so much as one concern makes it to my mother''s office that doesn''t belong there or we get one complaint about you asking non-professional questions while performing your duties, I''ll send you back to your elder with a replacement request and a strong recommendation to have you staff agricultural logistics... Piles of sh*t need counting too... Political spies are supposed to be discreet and do so good of a job they''re overlooked. You are currently an obstructing eyesore, consider this your one and only warning."


    Stepping outside, Orison got the attention of the soldier on consulate guard duty and told him to get Specialist Cray and Captain Nadir to report as soon as possible, to consider it urgent. Before the healthy, vital and significantly more confident Rithus could finish brewing mother, son and himself a cup of the Marshlander''s favorite tea, Cray was already sitting nervously under the benevolent gaze of Orison. The tea had been drank and the cup removed before Captain Nadir had sauntered into the side meeting room.


    Orison turned his beaming smile towards Nadir and said, "So glad you could finally join us, Captain. I need the soldiers not on guard or meal preparation detail to be assembled."


    Scowling with arms folded, Captain Nadir asked, "Why? Is it so important you can''t tell me and I can relate it at evening roll call?"


    "It is, Captain. It pertains to matters they need to be aware of for the next two months. Dangerous things that could be a problem right now. I need them to be aware of those things as soon as possible," Orison said, smiling face becoming more saintly by the moment.


    Pinching the bridge of his nose, Captain Nadir said, "I''ll do as you ask, Legate-in-training, but there will be the Abyss to pay if you''re wasting mine or my men''s precious time on personal nonsense. What happened to you must be trying on the mind but consider yourself cautioned in advance."


    As Nadir stalked out of the meeting room, Orison turned to Specialist Cray. "I couldn''t ask for a better friend and soldier out of you after our first little hiccup, specialist... I need you to go get the officer in charge of the trade building and spread the word that soon there will be an important announcement at the consulate building. The merchants currently in the inn or in transition from port to warehouse will not want to miss it or they''ll be losing money they could have saved."


    Cray took off like a man who''d been pardoned from the executioner and afraid someone would change their mind.


    After a ragtag half of Captain Nadir''s men stood in just enough of a formation it wouldn''t draw frowns from the patricians in attendance and most of the merchants had assembled on the civilian side of the speaking platform, Orison ascended it and addressed them. "Loyal soldiers of Centerland and assembled peers, today marks a historic moment in the history of The Empire. As of eighth evening bell yesterday, due to supernatural phenomenon, I have been declared seventeen years of age by the archmage of Fort Frost himself. For the first time since the founding of the empire, a man of Highland decent holds the title of patrician and legate simultaneously. To commemorate my coming of age and this momentous occasion, all merchant taxes accumulated on today''s shipments are exempt and redeemable."


    The merchant patricians that were working themselves up to interrupt became quite again.


    Orison continued. "To all the soldiers in attendance and all those marked for guard and dining hall, to celebrate, you will be given a one time bonus of five gold. No need to announce yourselves. Steward Morrel has already taken roll. For those who work or are currently in sickroom, Morrel knows who they are, special considerations will be given based off of circumstance. For the other twelve soldiers who are not here due to dereliction, either blame themselves or Captain Nadir for not following my instruction."


    Eyes narrowed, Captain Nadir said, "Legate-in-Training, this is-"


    Orison bellowed, "Legate! Captain Nadir. Legate Cantrip to you, soldier, or has your brief stay here allowed my military colleague to forget basic military law and procedure! Just in case you may be hearing impaired, I am no longer a minor and all titles with their due respect are owed me. With my peers as witness, Captain, if you are in dereliction a third time today, I''ll have you temporarily stripped of command!"


    Nadir retreated to stony professionalism. Out of the corner of his eye, Orison noticed the soldiers subtly shifting into a cleaner formation and subconsciously taking it upon themselves to move into a more formal parade field ''rest''.


    Taking a breath to calm himself back into saintly serenity, Orison returned to his address. "Fellow peers, please feel free to stay or return to your own matters as your prestige and dignity prefer."


    In one of the benches, a ruddy and seasoned merchant said, "You jest! This is the best show I''ve seen all spring and summer season!" accompanied by a few subdued laughs.


    Orison continued his address, moving on to accommodations. A substantial ''above and beyond the call of duty'' award pay bonus was given to a soldier who had rescued a drowning victim. A twenty year old bottle of top-shelf whiskey he gave to Captain Nadir for ''admirable and timely resolution'' during a dispute between two merchants in the consulate. Finally, he gave three vials each of vital and vigor potions to Specialist Cray for ''wearing out the most sole of his boots'' providing assistance to the consulate.


    To finish off, Orison told the soldiers that daily operations would remain unchanged. Droya was still acting legate in his absence due to frequent sudden and unexpected needs of his presence for diplomatic and personal affairs. He assured and warned them that she spoke with his voice and any decision she had made would be upheld by him. Lastly, he informed the men that even though there was an unsightly display earlier, Captain Nadir had his and Droya''s full support. He only desired to make clear, in no uncertain terms, just who and what he was not only to the captain but also to them.


    When Orison called an end to the assembly, Nadir pulled off protocol exactingly to the tee. As soon as the men went back to their tasks, Nadir left as well. A small part of Orison wondered if the captain would drink or smash that bottle. Either way, he had done all he set out to do and wanted to tidy up affairs with his mother and the gold he needed to cough up to the balance book so that there wasn''t any trouble. Droya would ''stomp a new mud hole'' in him otherwise.


    Back in their private quarters, Droya said, "That was a bit extravagant wasn''t it?"


    Orison sighed and said, "Yes. I had no idea how much goods arrived at the trade warehouse today or I would have put a cap on it. Don''t worry though, I have a new chunk of wealth to make it up and then some... Did you like the dress from Gan and the new ring I gave you, by the way?"


    Droya said, "They''re lovely, both of them, but-"


    Orison quickly interrupted, "I would like to explain but I can''t. I''ll just say this. Do you remember the ''problem'' with the manor?"


    Wryly, Droya said, "You mean the one that ''I'' can''t talk about either?"


    Orison said, "Yes... They are connected and there may be more in the future. It might even be unavoidable. Someone or something is moving me to do specific things or be in specific places. It''s a subtle hand and I have all the free will I want to hang myself with. Still, it comes down to accepting or denying and I think there are consequences for both but rewards for only one."


    Orison leaned in and whispered, "If I''m gone in the evenings or the middle of the night without explanation, don''t raise alarms unless there isn''t a coin on tails under my pillow that smells of an herb for each day, written on this list. As soon as you think it''s memorized, burn it."


    Droya looked sad and weary as she said, "I feel so cheated. You were supposed to be my boy. Five years for us to be mother and son in something other than just name."


    Orison reached out and held her hand. "You are, Momma Yaya. There are only two places in my heart that are equal to yours and they aren''t even filled yet... And hopefully won''t be for a while. I''m far from ready to settle down. Besides, I may have things I need to do but your words and wishes still have the power to move me. Hehe, an arrogant prince still has to answer to his queen mother no matter how old he is. Just ask around. It''s true."


    The two talked some of their feelings out and turned to ways on maximizing profit over his ill gotten gains. For the time being they avoided talking about New Fvaris and what would come of the thwarted coup. On the balance, it was obvious who was owed but the obsidian elves were always on a knife''s edge shy of hostile towards their unwanted but currently needed guests. Only time and word from Obsidian''s lower capital would solve that query.


    Business and personal feelings squared away, the mother and son turned towards the rest of their group as Droya caught him up on things and as secret matters became less sensitive they moved their conversation to the dining hall as no one was up for cooking after the hectic and somewhat emotional day started drawing to a close. Just as he was contemplating slipping away to check up on his ghastly new friend, Orison was approached by Nadir.


    "A word legate," the captain said, still visibly frosty.


    Orison nodded before he hesitantly followed the captain back to Nadir''s private quarters. Motioning for Orison to sit opposite him at the cleared chess table, the young mage almost cried tears of joy when he saw the captain put two glasses and the bottle of whiskey on it instead of pieces. Pouring two fingers worth in each, Nadir raised his glass to Orison and downed it before putting two more fingers worth in it again. To not seem ungracious if this was the peace offering he hoped it was, Orison took his shot to the head and winced, this body completely unaccustomed to the sharp assault.


    Nadir obliged a refill and then said, "Well played today."


    "I hate chess but I''ll play it when I have to," Orison said as he looked at the board.


    Nadir snorted and took a sip before he said, "Why did you think you had to? You could have just given me a little time to adjust."


    "F*** that," Orison replied.


    "How long do you have before you and your group are gone?" Nadir asked as if the answer didn''t matter.


    Orison smiled genuinely and said, "Around two months and I should be out of this snake pit."


    "Didn''t think you''d be that up front about it," Nadir finished off his second glass while Orison continued to sip.


    Nadir laughed and said, "You''re not even going to match me?"


    "To prove what exactly, that you''re the better alcoholic? The crap on my plate''s to high to get really plastered with you today, Captain," Orison said wryly.


    Nadir said, "I wouldn''t if I were you either. The server tonight was one of the men you stiffed on a reward that was a little too generous to just laugh off. I''m pretty sure he laced your food with some bubble gut."


    "Tell him thanks for anticipating my stress induced constipation. Now, if you''re feeling real generous, you might want to warn him and the others that got stung by my power play that if anything like that targets my mom they''ll be bald and impotent soon after," Orison slid his glass over for a touch up.


    Seeing that the young man was going to sip it out, Nadir poured another three fingers and pulled the bottle to his side. "I think you''ll find the average soldier gets a feel for his superior''s bottom line pretty quick... I like your mom, Orison but you make it clear to me that I have to choose her or my men. To me, that''s not even a choice."


    Orison sighed. "I''m pretty sure she liked you too but the daytime frowns and evening smiles you were giving her made that ship sail awhile ago. To be clear, I don''t nor want to interfere in her affairs in that department. But since we''re being candid, mom''s not cut out to be the wife of a career soldier."


    "How''s the wife of a hero any better?" Nadir said bitterly.


    "It''s not. In either case, a retired man of action couldn''t find a better woman, I''m sure. Just don''t bank on her being still available by then. Enough said on that, please." Orison leaned back and relaxed a little after seeing things weren''t likely to take a left turn.


    Nadir took another two shots back to back, let out a depressed sigh and said, "Now that''s shelved, level with me. How bad is it going to get after you''re gone?"


    Orison looked at his glass before deciding to get it over with and downing it. "Find the men worth saving and get out of here as soon as you can. Who knows, the one who replaces me might end up being a miracle worker but don''t bet on it. Plain and simple, they don''t want us here and the one caught holding the ball is likely going to go down in fear and fire. One year, two tops and they are going to have everything they need whether it''s Centerland or Summer Domain providing it.


    "I''d like to believe I''ve opened the door for ways to still keep trade and work opportunities in the future but there''s going to come a reckoning first. These elves were not nice people before they lost their home and got picked over by vultures. If anything, they are only harder and more callous, not less. Of course, if someone else asks me, I''m going to paint roses and sunshine on it. I want that hapless dope to come and replace me as fast as their opportunistic a** can get them over here."


    In a low voice, Nadir asked, "What did you see over there that has you so... bleak? Did what happened to you have anything to do with it?"


    Orison said, "Yes and no to the second. I''ve already pushed the archmage''s bottom line today. I''m inclined to toe it on the rest. As for what I can tell you, this land isn''t even kind to it''s own natives. No one else has a fart in a whirlwind chance of prospering here. To the north, death sleeps. Deep in the soil, disease waits to resurface. In it''s hidden cracks and crevasses, all manner of terrifying things are waiting for the seeds to grow so they can harvest again. If you can''t leave, have a good exit strategy."


    Nadir grew quiet and morose. There wasn''t dismissal or invitation to join his misery, just a numb acceptance of anything and nothing. As a person who had been down that path himself, shy of being able to offer what the Captain actually wanted, there was nothing to be done.


    Before he left, Orison asked, "Can I take this as hatchet buried or at least a truce?"


    Nadir looked at him a little blearily and said, "Take it how you like. No matter how we feel we still need to do what needs done."

 32 OEW

    With the pleasant, mellow buzz wearing off faster than he''d like, Orison stopped by his room to change into something more suitable for night gallivanting.


    "I''d like to come along too, if it''s not much trouble. I''ve felt constantly restless ever since we''ve returned and pacing upsets Lady Mother Droya," Rithus said.


    From behind the Marshlander, Orison heard, "I''m inclined to follow as well. Gan is not a person with small courage and he seems greatly discomforted by your convalescing guest."


    Orison sighed and said, "It''s probably not a good idea to be going anywhere alone right now anyway... I think Gan''s just being overly sensitive on this one, though. Not because his instincts are wrong, per say. She''s admittedly very disturbing but I don''t think she''s dangerous, at least not to us."


    Once Gan was satisfied that Orison wasn''t traveling alone, he was more than happy to ''hold down the fort'' with Claudius and Corvinus. For a moment, Orison contemplated the two Tulius brothers and the pregnant elf while he ''went for a night swim''. They were good and trustworthy people but he considered them a little too overawed and respectfully distant from him whereas they were considerably more comfortable around his mom. He saw the good in Droya having her own people and that was what he decided to label them as. Whatever benefits he passed along to them in the future, they could be done so through Droya to cement that.


    The walk to the west beach wasn''t overly long and the pair of roaming soldiers they met along the way bought Orison''s excuse of needing to cool off with a swim. It was only a few days until longest day and the soldiers admitted to a quick dip at the end of their shift a time or two. The one Orison still only knew as Mellow warned him to pay attention to the sky. The soldier had served two years on the other side of the Obsidian Strait and claimed that waterspouts and torrential rains with strong headwinds can come out of nowhere.


    While swimming to the hidden alcove, Orison mumbled, "Damned Mellow. You trying to raise flags on me or something?"


    The first thing that was apparent upon walking in was that a fight had taken place here. A few splatters of blood and spiderweb cracks of scorch marks had destroyed the previous serenity of the hidden place. There was a mummified corpse here but it was the wrong one. Over to one side, a small blue dot pulled all of his attention to it. As if compelled, Orison walked over and touched it.


    In Orison''s mindscape, a red haired and olive skinned woman said, "A man claiming to be some such magical important person, found the gate. Using some form of augury magic, he managed to find me. Fortunately for me, he confused the other portal source as a direct representation of what secrets I might hold. Before searching me for similarly hidden things, he revealed a storage artifact that had been placed around a rib bone of the other source... He confused it as an enchanted ring! Can you believe it!?... The fool tried to interrogate me as to ascertain it''s secrets.


    "Well, of course I duped him into allowing me to touch it. Inside were things I am certain my poor fellow portal mate died crying about. To have salvation that near and not be able to get to it!? It''s a personal torment I don''t dare imagine. It''s probably what killed him.


    "So condensed version of events are we fought, he lost. I erased his memory as killing him might bring you harm, which would breach our oath, and I sent him back to his home. I also may have accidentally given him a compulsion to go dig for secrets in his own body before violating someone else''s. I''m sure it won''t be anything major.


    "Look, I know there are a lot of things I know that you''d like to but the truth is, the more I share the harder I''m going to make things for you. So let me help you with a few basics and if you make it to where I am one day, I''ll help you out a little more... One last thing before this remnant transfers to you, there''s a box merged with the stone under where you set the lamp. It will emerge when you say your name over it''s location."


    The blue dot lifted from the crack in the floor and shot into Orison''s head. It wasn''t as nearly earth shattering in content as he thought it would be. He now knew a term for his mask and the box. They were called boundary items though some called them abandoned conduits, though few were. According to Lily, even the most mundane of boundary items were valuable because they were resistant, if not immune, to changes between dimensions. Simply put, they were more ''real'' than real but they did tend to follow practical laws of items in their nature. Wood would burn and fluids could be lost to evaporation, though they tended to be more enduring and resistant to entropy than their mundane counterparts.


    When it came to sharing her knowledge of ''climbing the tower'', she was hesitant and spoke more vaguely. From what Orison could gather, he was in a low, very low, dimension. On a positive note, it meant that his foundation would be stronger with more ''step baptisms''. On the other side, his journey would be longer and more dangerous before he was ''established''.


    When speaking of his ''key'', she was even more vague. In her definition, a key was an item, knowledge or ability that transcended the laws of a current reality. Obviously some keys opened more locks and allowed one to climb higher but just simply originating from another existence or dimension greatly increased the chances of discovering new keys. She explained that it was hard to tell what key someone had but most people who had one possessed a certain quality that drew a climber''s attention. Since climbers learn at one point or another how to hide that quality, it almost served as a newbie badge.


    The explanation of ''tower'' wasn''t much better. From her point of view, a tower was the metaphysical structure one made to climb. One might need many small steps to climb one reality or one to climb many. If meeting another friendly climber, one could refer to the amount of realities one climbed as their ''steps''. The mental image illustration showed a stick figure with boobs saying in a text bubble ''Hi, I''m Lily and I''m a Fourth Step''.


    She explained that describing things that varied too greatly from person to person was too difficult and forcefully explaining could do more harm than good as it might give wrong impressions that could waste a climber''s time. Depending on the climber, that could be fatal. While on the subject of fatal wastes of time, she explained that dimensions with magic were a double edged blessing. Often such places had many keys hidden within it''s allowed parameters of magic but the study of it could take many years with little results as well.


    Individual spells themselves weren''t that useful outside of what opportunities for current survival, safety and comfort they offered. The study of it''s theory, however, offered a great deal more. When contrasting the theories of two different reality''s magic systems, she assured Orison, he would get ideas on how to leverage against the fulcrum of greater structures allowing him to create spell-like abilities even in dimensions and reality''s that didn''t have magic. To give him an idea, the remnant had other reality models for light, minor heal and a spell called ''presto'' she said wasn''t the same but shared some elements with his Degree Shift spell.


    After the models had decompressed into his mind it didn''t immediately give any meaningful revelations but he felt a slight sense of spiritual fatigue that probably meant Beta may have picked up on something. He kept his focus on the spell models as various warnings and cautions unpacked into his mind. A stray side thought realized that Lily''s magically packaged info share was quite similar to the way skill books had dumped info into his head except that the skill books were far more subtle and well organized.


    Humorously, Orison realized much of what she warned and cautioned about could have probably been found in a bookstore on Earth from an idiot''s guide to wilderness survival and foreign travel. The warning about how ''heavy planes'' like abysses and hells were a more dangerous place for climbers than it was for natives and it''s accompanying information obviously could not. And after seeing the last caution, he felt a great deal less happy about all the possibilities her information inspired.


    For most, climbing was lonely. Making friends and even deeper connections with planar natives was considered bad practice because of the emotional baggage losing them accumulated. The amount of climbers lost to emotional fatigue, according to Lily, was even greater than those lost to running out of lifespan or becoming trapped somewhere combined. She didn''t claim that as an absolute truth but she did say that what she had seen of other climbers, it seemed quite plausible. Orison didn''t need a caution from Lily to know just how damning to a person grief was but the way he saw it, a lifetime of chasing greater heights without others to share its joy with would be just as damning.


    Orison rose to his feet and almost blanked out, wobbly and disoriented. It took him a little while to get situated and find the location of the box since Morrel was giving him a once over. He came to the irrefutable conclusion that Lily was crappy at transferring knowledge directly.


    Orison stood over the spot mentioned, casually noting the lack of lamp, and said, "Orison... Orison... Lily, what th- Your name... Haha, Lily."


    Orison stared dryly at the appearance of the box summoned by ''your name''. Ascetically speaking, he thought it was quite pretty. From what he could see, it appeared to be a cherry wood trinket box with an ornate mandala motif. Orison believed she left it for him because, value wise, it was worth multiple times what he had given her but otherwise useless. According to her, it could serve as a container for sentimental items of small size, preserving them from loss or change for awhile as long as it remained closed.


    Whatever the items in it had been before, far too much time had passed. All of the mementos the other portal mummy had kept in it had long ago adjusted to this dimension do to proximity. Moved a little to pity, Orison arranged the mummy on the bed and took the one piece out of the box that looked like a child''s attempt at carving to lay with it. It made the world seem just a little less dark to him.


    Outside of the place that had been repurposed to an unknown man''s tomb, Orison prompted Morrel and Rithus to pick a piece out of the collection. Giving the rest over to Morrel for the elf to put in his oiled swim bag, he threw the box into his space. A few seconds later, with a look of surprise and confusion on his face, Orison fainted.


    ***


    "We really do need to stop meeting like this. It''s unhealthy." Beta said.


    Orison glanced around at the temple mall house and said, "Why am I here exactly?"


    "Though it''s just a guess, You''re fairly sure about it by now, aren''t you?" Beta said.


    "My space ate the box. I''d ask you why but you''re me and will just be more certain of what I''m guessing but stop me if I''m wrong." Orison said.


    Beta nodded with a faint smile and said, "We''re getting the hang of this."


    Orison took a deep imaginary breath and began, "So the box wasn''t as plain a boundary item as it appeared... My space eats boundary items related to itself, like the carry extra stuff ring...But that shouldn''t be...I see. It''s laws. The ring wasn''t a boundary item, per say, but it did contain a small bit of gravity laws because, miasma making it real. The reason it didn''t eat the gauntlets?..."


    Beta chimed in, "Not likely to be a boundary item, not in a fluctuating state, mixed enchantments... That''s what you know... What won''t be clear yet and is only a guess for us, your space is a boundary item. She didn''t say they couldn''t be a part of someone...


    "Hypothesis; the miasma we chase was once a part of a god or flying spaghetti monster. It is lost power, left behind involuntarily most likely...Guess with circumstantial evidence; Our body contains an impression of that entity''s existence in the form of the ''blessings'' granted by those books. Wild guess based off of intuition; miasma responds to our ''wishes'' because that impression gives us a link to it.


    "On the ''what if'' conclusion all that is true or close enough, then with the new information Lily has given us, we can have a working idea. She mentioned ''abandoned conduit'' as a type of boundary item but didn''t clarify. We know enough to make an educated guess that the books original Orison read could fit the description if abandoned is replaced by owned."


    In a eureka moment, Orison took the thought up and continued, "And of all the ''wish'' structures we used to make it ours, the wish for an inventory space was left the most vague, leaving the miasma a desired structure but no inspiration to draw from other than what already existed within it and whatever impressions were left around it from it''s source, residual impressions from the books perhaps."


    Beta took the line back up, "Now, here''s were things get beyond the part of us that you are and temporarily require the part of you that I am to explain more manually. Your ''sub-processor'', space and soul juicer 3-in-1 isn''t just an ''item'', it''s a part of you, an extension. You might even call it a conduit, a conduit that can make itself more complete by consuming other conduits that share it''s nature. You now know a third way to help it grow. That''s an important thing considering that we know miasma is limited and we have no desire to become a Lovecraft knock off monster.


    "A quick bad news, good news. Good news is that once your space finishes digesting the box, it''ll be more useful and less constricting. It''s also safe for you to put things in it again. The bad news is that it consumed everything in it that was created by miasma, though I managed to save all but one of each type of your potions. The mask is fine as well."


    Orison paled and said, "That''s all but the smallest fraction of our wealth!... One of each potion gone is awful suspect."


    Beta nodded, "Instinct. It needed it''s parent energy to help it take in the box since it''s not that strong yet, a good amount of your soul crystals being ''burnt'' as fuel as well. The inventory items it took in were more than just digestion aids too. Our understanding of matter and energy composition is also marginally improving along with it''s conversion, slowly. It was far more ben-


    ***


    "Do you think he has the falling sickness? I''ve seen warriors that take too many blows to the head. That-"


    Orison cut off Gan''s claim and said, "No. The gift that was left for me was just a little more ''rich'' than I thought it would be... Thanks for the concern, everyone, but I need to speak with mom in private."


    Droya, who was holding his hand by his bedside, said, "So you''re finally awake?"


    Orison said cheekily, "If I''m not, I''m really in trouble!"


    Droya let go of his hand and slapped it, then said, "Not the time for jokes. Everyone''s gone. Let me know what''s wrong before my imagination eats too much of my sanity away."


    Orison nodded. "Something very good happened to me but it''s only good in the long view. Short view, we are significantly less wealthy than we were, about seventy percent less from the last time I gave you a relatively accurate update." thinking to himself, "More like ninety to ninety-five percent."


    Droya blanched.


    Orison said, "The supernatural incidents have given me gains I can''t even begin to describe but that loss was the result. Thank goodness I had already handed those enchantments out... Your mother''s jewelry is fine, by the way."


    Looking only marginally better, she said, "The workers sent to start construction on the new land will need nearly twice what I have on hand to cover the contract budget. A little over a thousand gold more than that needs to be paid up front when the next major ship comes next week. And you know as well as I, we can expect logistics to dump paying the expenses of the base, all of them, on us until the replacement legate comes."


    Orison nodded grimly. "It''s far from hopeless. I''m just going to have to buckle down and do some real work for a change."


    Droya said, "The enchanted items that you made for us, I-"


    "No, mom. One, if we start hawking important stuff like that our reputation will take a hit we can''t afford. Secondly, they are a layer of protection none in our group can do without. Thirdly, enchantments don''t grow on trees. They are brand new and that will raise mage awareness to them and us. After all, I doubt an archmage is going to volunteer credit for making them, not without turning me inside out for how I did it without crippling my potential," Orison said firmly.


    Sitting in silence for a time, Orison said, "But that does bring up something. Dowager Fvaris owes me. I can''t be nasty about it and I sure as the Abyss can forget about getting my items back that her Grandniece robbed from me but I can leverage against that for some funds... You''re much better than me at lighter touch diplomacy. Do you think you can help me write out this missive, mom?"

 33 OEW

    Early evening saw Gan and Orison traveling on Stupid Horse to the contact spot for Nub, he''d never actually been to. Absentmindedly, Orison realized that two grown men in full gear wasn''t far from maxing out the horse''s capacity. Dipping into the already deeply ''in the red'' funds to get weapons and some basic leather for himself was a decision that even Droya supported if he was planning on becoming more ''proactive''. After all, he wasn''t going for a swim but into fringe areas that may have elves or local fauna that might take exception to his presence.


    About three quarters til their destination, Orison slowed down to a walk. Not long after an arrow dug into the ground not too far from the front of Stupid Horse. Looking around, with the help of his mask brightening up the twilight gloom around him, he spotted two obsidian elves with bows.


    Placing a hand over the one Gan was about to draw his own bow with, Orison said, "I''m here to see an old man with some simples to ease his suffering."


    The one who fired his bow said, "I don''t care why you''re here, pigskin. Couriers are to stay to the road and in daylight. That was the deal."


    Orison thought, "So not the lookout... Sh*t."


    Aloud, he said, "Illness and infirmity doesn''t respect mortal agreements and I''m not a courier, I''m a healer. It''s one of your own I''m here for, against my better judgment. Someday it might be you that needs some healing at an unagreed to place and time. Your call."


    The two elves conferred and the ''pluckier'' one said, "Alright, healer. I got a toe that needs looked at. Your companion stays where he is, I''ll meet you in the middle and you prove your skills. All goes well and I get something out of it, we believe you are what you say you are and you get your safe passage. I''ll let the replacements know that you might be appearing on your return journey... Deal?"


    Mentally cursing, Orison agreed. For the next ten minutes, Orison swallowed pride and bile as he half knelt with an unpleasantly smelling foot propped on his knee. He was tempted to seal the infection in with a healing spell but didn''t want to imagine what his welcome would be the next time if he had to make this trek again. Getting tipped a silver after using numbing ointment, delicately trimming the ingrown nail out with his dagger then cleaning and wrapping up the toe, made him upset for the half second it took to remember that these guys were dirt poor and it was likely all the man could afford.


    "Change into a clean pair of socks every day or every time they get damp, which will be often if you''re walking around in this heat. Let it get air when you can and I hope I don''t need to tell you to keep it clean... Use a little high strength alcohol on it a couple times a day for the first few, if you have it." Despite his unfriendly feelings, Orison didn''t like doing things halfway.


    "Yeah... It''s just a little digging in that lasted this long. Seems a lot of fuss over nothing," the elf said.


    Gravely, Orison said, "You were a few days from losing your toe, maybe your whole leg if the infection reached your blood. Does it seem like a lot of fuss over nothing now?"


    Orison looked at the other elf and said, "If you see your friend having a hard time putting his boot on because he didn''t listen to me, you get him to whatever healer you''ve got. A little hurt pride isn''t worth becoming a cripple over."


    Back on their way, Gan asked, "Why''d you go so far out of your way?Let him lose his foot if he wants to be stupid."


    Orison sighed. "Gan, you come from a place that plays hard but doesn''t hesitate to go to a healer over a scratch that doesn''t look right. Nearly every Northlander is raised knowing that they could lose their life over a little frostbite or infection. Half of these elves don''t even fear death and I mean death of any kind not just bravery in the face of. What they do fear is being an embarrassment. He''d go to his deathbed cursing me and calling for my blood no problem but he''d never admit that he was crippled or dying because he was stupid.


    "I don''t care whether he lives or dies but I don''t want him or his family causing the consulate difficulties, at least not until after I''m gone... I''m worried about people with no better options going to the consulate for healing now, though. Turn enough away, it''s a fight. Take them in and they get sick or die anyway, it''s a fight."


    While Gan and Orison were talking about the similarities and differences between Northlanders and obsidian elves, another arrow landed in front of stupid horse.


    Tiredly, Orison said, "I''m here to see an old man with some simples to ease his suffering."


    "He has suffered long. Why do you come now?" a voice in the darkness asked.


    Orison thought, "Oh thank gawd." then said, "The silence between our last dealings leaves me ill at ease."


    The voice said, "Remove your mask so that I may insure you are the one on whom he waits."


    Orison complied before an obsidian elf with faintly glowing red eyes revealed herself. "Your sight must be sh*t in the dark. Your glow''s almost as bad as mine."


    "Depends on how much blood remnants or magic''s around," Orison replied as she led them to a remote cabin.


    The vampire laughed and said, "If it helps you see blood then there are probably worse things that stand out."


    Wryly, Orison said, "I''ll never look at an inn room the same way again and I''d rather cut off my hands than wash the soldiers'' laundry."


    She chuckled and said, "You may be waiting for some time. It''s a collection night. Speaking of, my sire''s geas protects you from my hunger but your friend is distracting... No danger, my large friend. I am simply feeling the need. Any chance that you''d be interested in a little rough trade, Northlander, er, Highlander? Normally it''s not so difficult to tell."


    Orison spoke on Gan''s behalf. "So we''re clear, that''s a no but is your sire a certain ''gold'' guy?"


    Pouting, she said, "That''s the old man."


    "Then step outside and I''ll see what we can do for you," Orison said.


    Without a complaint, she gracefully slipped into the night. Originally Gan was against bleeding into a bottle so Orison started. Seeing his ''little boss'' providing, he compromised with going halfsies. Orison fished by doctoring up the nearly two cups of blood with a little sprinkle of soul crystal powder from the ring of broken chips and pieces circling the formation in the ''dark'' of his space along with a couple drops of vigor potion. A touch of healing and a cleaning later, he called her back in.


    Swishing it around a bit, he said, "A refreshment for the lady but since we''re the guests, I was wondering if we could get something to drink while we wait as well."


    Eyes never leaving the blood bottle, she poured them some wine and exchanged her bottle for his, then said, "It was a bit rude. We don''t receive many visitors, you see. Cheers!"


    After toasting one another, Orison put a vital potion drop in each one of his and Gan''s wine glass before enjoying. After drinking, the vampire''s eye glow shifted a little into the purple spectrum before she fell to the ground moaning and writhing. Orison felt like slapping himself in the forehead for being dumb. In all the stuff that had been going on, he''d never really went forward with anymore testing on the results he''d gotten from Nub''s experiment experiences. With the sensitivity of vampires to soul crystal and vitality in blood, he should have guessed his blood was way too potent for a vampire to drink undiluted. As soon as her antics started getting graphic, Gan and then Orison a bit reluctantly, stepped outside for decency''s sake and for Orison, guilt.


    His voice breaking a little, Orison asked, "That... Did that do anything, you know, for you?"


    Gan''s chuckle seemed a little flat as he said, "If anyone else asked... I suppose her enthusiasm was contagious but my mind kind of drifted to other, um, inspiration from there.


    Orison patted Gan''s shoulder and said as he adjusted himself, "No judgment, buddy... All said and done, I think I might as well apologize to her twice because I''ll probably be remembering that later."


    "Remembering what later?" Nub''s amused voice resounded from the darkness.


    "Ah. Well, think I might have temporarily broken your progeny." Orison said sheepishly.


    After looking in on her, Nub asked with false cheer, "Did she ask or did you offer?"


    Orison said, "She asked for Gan''s blood but he wasn''t that willing. It ended up being half his and half mine, less than two cups worth with the proper mix. It just didn''t dawn on me until she started acting funny that I might not want to think of my blood as normal. That is all on me."


    Nub sighed. "No harm meant. I''ll have her run it out in daylight. Fortunately, that''s her first and it was far and wide too potent. She''s going to be feeling unwell afterwards. Between being too gone to remember the best parts and all too aware of the bad ones she''ll not suffer any long term effects. I suppose I could have warned you when we did those little experiments that you smelled like a walking bag of your mix but that was before. Now I can barely smell your blood over the... everything extra."


    Orison apologized profusely and said, "This was less ignorance and more thoughtless stupidity. Is there anything within reason I could do to make it up to her?"


    Nub rubbed his nose and said, "I doubt she''ll be complaining much but she might be a little afraid of accepting drinks from you in the future. Donate a vigor and vital potion in her name to our treasury and I''m sure that she''ll think highly of you."


    Orison looked wistfully at his dwindling pile of even more mundane goods in his space and handed them over. "I''ve ran into an issue and I need to make some quick liquid funds... By liquid, I mean coin. No offense if the clarification wasn''t needed but after saying it I realized the possibility of social differences in meaning."


    Nub nodded while stroking his beard. "I thought that the consulate and greedy patricians might over tax your reserves someday."


    Orison scowled into the distance. "If they had managed to fleece me of over 80,000 gold in assets, the obsidian elves wouldn''t have had to worry about destroying the consulate. I would have burned it to the ground myself. No, this is more of a personal grievance with nature and reality."


    Nub''s jaw barely managed to keep itself attached until he recovered himself and said, "That''s one Abyss of a grudge with nature."


    Orison nodded and said, "I''ll make my pitch quick. For every person of the recreational murderer, child molester and rapist kind that you let me kill, I''ll grant you two of these small crystals to split profit even on. If two happen to be obsidian elves with spirit guardians, I''ll grant you one of the large ones to split profit with."


    Nub looked at Orison oddly for a moment but then thought about it more logically. "Must they be of that variety, trash farm livestock?"


    Orison said, " I insist, with backstory. Please keep it honest with me, Nub. I''d like to believe we''ve been good family to one another thus far. I wouldn''t forgive myself if business ruined that."


    Dull eyed, most likely his professional murderer face, Nub said, "What yield of mortal flesh are you looking to reap?"


    Orison said, "At the moment, I have eight small and two large. If by some means there are more with guardian spirits, I could come up with a maximum of two more."


    Nub said, "Four without guardian and four with. Any reason for the preference of my mother race?"


    Orison said, "It''s the spirits not the race that I''m interested in."


    Nub said, "I could take you ghost hunting if that''s what you need. It wouldn''t be all prettily wrapped up in a bow for you but you wouldn''t have to be a murderer of men. I can see some of what makes you, Orison, who claims familial ties with me. Killing to protect yourself or in the passion of vengeance is vastly different from killing a man you have no reason to personally hate. I''m assuming that''s why you didn''t join The Order to begin with...


    "And to be honest, the business wouldn''t ruin our current relationship nearly as quickly as watching you kill trussed up men would. That goes doubly for watching you kill people of my mother race made helpless, deserving or not. Part of why I find our visits so enjoyable is the you who is free of the filth my world is seeped in. Watching you stain yourself in it and knowing I was the reason why would make me unable to forgive MYSELF."


    Both were quiet for a time before a woman''s gasping moan and shaky laughter broke it.


    Gan interjected, "I''m keen on getting knee deep into anything you want to throw yourself at, little boss, but ghosts I''m no good with."


    Absentmindedly Orison nodded toward Gan, then said, "The weakest variety of ghost and undead would cause me a net loss on what I''m trying to achieve but I''m a bit iffy on throwing myself against powerful ones."


    Nub considered then said, "What do you have that you believe is good against undead?"


    Orison said, "Fire Shot, a slightly unstable fireball and a bound battleaxe that''s a bit more damaging than the norm due to me having to rebuild its model. I can get a good twenty or so feet toss that''ll cut down a guardian spirit in one hit... as an example."


    Nub chuckled a little nervously. "Fire and vampires make bad companions, especially exploding fire."


    Orison said, "I''m fairly certain I can gauge but if you get caught in the magic''s effect you shouldn''t be hurt by it as long as I can view you as one of mine. Secondary effects from natural combustion and burning don''t have the same protection."


    Nub said somewhat disbelieving, "Your magic can tell friend from foe?"


    Orison nodded. "As long as there is someone hostile to me nearby, my magic won''t harm people I see as friendly as long as they actually are."


    Seeing as Orison wasn''t keeping it a secret from this man, Gan said, "Saw him throw one of those axes right through his mom and kill the man who was trying to hurt her."


    "How good are you with swords?" Nub asked Orison after mulling over Gan''s testimony.


    Orison replied, "A two-handed one in mine would be a joke. I can handle a one-handed alright but not nearly as good as a dagger or a bow."


    Nub seemed to come to a decision he''d been mulling. "I''ll extend you some trust but I need you to extend me some too. We need some specialized equipment. Give me the crystals upfront and-"


    Orison handed him the eight small crystals and two large as soon as he asked, interrupting Nub''s speech.


    Nub looked at them blankly for a moment then said, "Alright... Northlander, if I give you a sword that can make ghosts bleed, would you still fear to face them?"


    Red-faced, Gan said, "Never said I feared them to begin with! It''s just frustrating to get slapped around and sucked on by something you can''t hit back."


    Nub and Orison shared a look. Both thought better of commenting.


    "It will take me the rest of tonight to get everything together. So we can begin tomorrow. If I''m called away, I''ll have Mei take you... I want you to understand, there is a possibility of running into people. Though I doubt it will happen, if I or my progeny is incapacitated for some reason, they can''t leave to identify us later," Nub said.


    After setting up a more convenient meeting place and discussing the finer details, Nub escorted them back to the road.


    On their way back, Orison asked, "Are you good with this? I know what you just said but I''m not going to think less of you if ghosts and undead are just one of those things you don''t handle well."


    Gan said, "I wake up some nights from memories of that attack on the road to Whiteriver. It wasn''t the walking dead or the ghosts that I remember so clearly, it was the feeling of helplessness... despair. The ghosts drew the fight out of them, the marshal and Hvass. One just clipped me and nearly caused me to give up and lay there. It might be a strange thing to say but as long as you''re there, I''ll be fine. And if I can get some good licks in, it''ll help me put the nightmares down too.


    "But you know, if it''s just about needing the money, I wouldn''t hesitate for a second to hand over the ring or circlet you gave me. They aren''t-"


    Orison shook his head and said, "It will always be something, Gan. Some people pulling strings in Centerland are trying to find a way to beggar us. This is just a hiccup on our side. The construction crew''s going to try to find ways to get more money while doing less labor. Senators are going to urge for outrageous tax levies. Every step of the way, someone is going to be there trying to make us bleed out what gold we have and there will always be someone nearby ready to provide a bad term loan. The trade warehouse officer has already made an inquiry on mom and Nadir to see how we''re situated financially. He''s probably got a little chest with a prepared contract, waiting.


    "The way I see it, if I can''t afford it, I let them take it. I want to provide some security for mom and anyone else I get close to, that''s all. There are definitely cheaper and probably even better ways to do it. One day, Gan, I''m going to be walking a longer road. I want to leave a good place for the ones who can''t or don''t want to keep walking with me."

 34 OEW

    "The dowager is loaning you her secondary alchemy equipment for one month, along with a stack of fine vellum and ink, which is yours to keep. The Speaker of the Left sent you a pack of ingredients and seeds from her island estate. The Speaker of the Right sent you a card with a crude gesture drawn on it... The entire council of elders, as a whole, sent an inquiry of findings from ''their'' historical ruins with a note stating that you may expect sincerity of equal measure in finding your lost articles as they expect from you on the findings report... Xia''s surviving grandniece sent Morrel 100 gold and a personal letter. That is all," the secretary read out nervously.


    Reigning in his rising blood pressure, Orison said, "Take this down and send it with the evening post... Dictation, madam. Grab a sheet of paper and your ink!... I thank you, Speaker of the Right, for your continued and unwavering sincerity. Speaker of the Left, your admirer awaits any personal favors you may have for him... Granny Xia, I will not waste the opportunity your generosity has bestowed to me... City of New Fvaris, once the culprits behind the disappearance of my personal items have been found, please feel free to openly use or wear them with pride so that I know who to thank for bringing thieves to justice. As for the glorious city''s inquiry, the learned and prodigious archmage of Frost Fort will, no doubt, be more than willing to take time from his pursuits to address your concerns with far more knowledge and wisdom than this lowly student of the arts can provide."


    With as much respect and difference as she could project, the nervous secretary said, "Legate Cantrip, when will Lady Mother Droya be resuming consulate operations? The rest can wait til-"


    Orison smiled serenely, causing the secretary to shudder. "My good lady, please continue reading the reports. My mother will be here when she has finished with family matters."


    Nodding she swallowed dryly and continued. "Logistics has sent a note of debt to the total of-"


    Orison grabbed the opened wax seal document and tossed it into the metal bin to the side of the desk before hitting it with a fire shot. "Send the bill of services and personal resources rendered in operation to logistics, along with a copy of the sick room reports and make sure the separate building material invoice letter is written large enough for them to read the detailed and itemized columns."


    He called for Morrel. "Sorry for interrupting your training time with Rithus. I need you to arrange a trip with Captain Nadir to the trade warehouse. Pick his account book apart, show him the real number, collect the difference and then split it in half with him after telling him there was ''nothing wrong with his books after all''. Let him know I took care of logistics'' discovery of errors on his behalf. Give the half we collect to Captain Nadir for payroll."


    Morrel said, "You would have gotten far more if you had waited another week or two."


    Orison said, "Hopefully in another week or two this will be pocket change again and the headache it represents for you and me both won''t be worth the bother. Besides, it''ll keep Captain Nadir off our collective a**es for awhile. It''s not my fault his unit has swelled to fifty plus with barely a full set of equipment for every other soldier. He knows damn well that the legate whose coming wants to hit my funds and then claim the write off for himself. Too bad, neither the captain nor the replacing legate needs to know I just claimed them today. If Nadir doesn''t piss me off, I''ll even honor it."


    Morrel said, "You''ll never get another copper from them so you''re just going to pay yourself from the taxes and send them unauthorized bills?"


    Orison nodded, "And normally that would get me imprisoned but with so much on the line that they weren''t expecting, Centerland will swallow my little theft with a smile. Not only that but if they took me to court I''d be able to drag a few senators'' dirty deeds to light as well. We collected all the evidence. Most of which can be seen in the bill of services I sent... My taxation theft isn''t even five percent of the total fraud we were left to try and cover. Medical supplies, building material, equipment and payroll, you name it and it was stolen from.


    "Long story short, I was sent to fill a pothole they made in a new empire trade route. My inheritance and death combined would have done it too. Seeing that I''ll survive, they''ll try to lever against their own crimes to bury me anyway. A friend of a ''silent friend'' gave me all the proof I need to switch places with them if they dare to push even one more time. After reading my bill, the spies in logistics will let them know it. I hope they do keep pushing, though. I can''t wait to own their assets in tribunal."


    Morrel shook his head, "And what happens if you die? Your mother isn''t a mage with special connections. She''ll rot in Gray Cliff."


    Orison smiled sadly, "You think I wouldn''t make sure she''s taken care of? Worst case scenario there''s a set of rustic little cabins in the Northlands for mom, you, Rithus and even Gan. My brother even has some gold squirreled away to help you guys get by if need be."


    Eyebrows raised, Morrel said, "When did you get that done?"


    "I didn''t. My brother did. When I was staying at his house, he stopped by one night to let me know some things and part of that was a promise to take care of mine if something happened to me here... Now, I was warned they look like sh*t. No one''s lived in them for a long time but there''s forest, game and a three day travel by foot to the nearest village. All the bugs and privacy even the most wanted criminal could hope for."


    Morrel nodded then said, "One step ahead. That''s tolerable. Try for three... With any luck, I''ll have to pull toenails and teeth to get the real ledger."


    Chuckling, Orison said, "Shouldn''t that be the other way around?"


    Morrel smiled, showing a fresh filed and resin coated set of teeth once more. "Oh, no. I feel a strong desire to torture a Centerland patrician today."


    "Well, don''t wear yourself out too much. Any day now a clan princess could be stopping by to reward the bravery of her knight in enchanted leather a little more intimately," Orison said.


    A little more serious looking than Orison expected, Morrel said, "I''ll have the ability to perform my duties satisfactorily."


    A little perplexed, Orison muttered to himself as Morrel went about his task, "Ooookay."


    After spending some more time with the secretary ''flattening hooks and cutting sinkers'', Orison took a nap until fifth bell after midday. As prearranged, Droya woke Orison after consulate hours were over to mull over gains and losses. The three scrolls that he had made in the late night to early morning gained them three hundred in the coffers under the table, with one scroll safely tucked into one of Droya''s secret stow away spots.


    "Imagine my surprise. Captain Nadir smiled and nodded my way in broad daylight! It wasn''t until I got back here that I found Morrel had shook down the trade officer today." Droya said, bemused.


    "How did that go?" Orison asked, still shaking a bit of grogginess off.


    Droya beamed. "You couldn''t have timed it better if you wanted to. Captain Nadir forced the door of the trade officer''s personal office open with secret stash cubbyhole uncovered and black book right on his desk! The fool had just taken a bribe from a smuggler. The trade officer and smuggler are locked up right now."


    Orison frowned in suspicion. "What was being smuggled?"


    Droya said, "Morrel said it was drugs and medicine that wasn''t cleared for trade."


    With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Orison went to the sentry tower. "At ease soldier. I need to see the seized goods."


    Centurion Calix, aka ''Hefty'', said, "The captain said-"


    "Sh*t! He said sh*t, Hefty. I need to see the goods." Orison bellowed.


    Reluctantly, Calix led him to the ''evidence locker'' was. Within seconds, Orison identified the items as cure and after treatment for a particularly painful and crippling disease that made joints stiff for those that survived, capable of turning healthy young men into ''grandpas'' barely capable of taking care of themselves if left untreated too long.


    Orison rushed down to the holding cells and ran some healing over the swollen face of the ''smuggler''. "When was the first victim and how well is it contained?" Orison asked immediately.


    Almost crying with relief, the young Centerlander with a conspicuously deep tan and narrow eyes said, "Finally, a question I can answer... A little over four weeks ago and it''s in village for now but who knows what will happen if people start running out of food. Look, the Speaker of the Ri-"


    Orison said, "I don''t care who funded it or what they will do if you''re not released because we don''t have to find out... Hefty, let him loose and give him his stuff back. The Captain will be pissed but I''d rather be in that cell right now than him. It''s that serious."


    Orison ran back to the consulate and begged the ''Stupid Horse'' scroll from his mom with quickly repeated apologies and promises as he ran back. While the ''smuggler'' was loading up scroll version Stupid Horse, Orison gave him the breakdown of how it worked. Captain Nadir caught sight of the ''escaping prisoner'' but couldn''t rally the entry guard fast enough to stop the fleeing merchant.


    As Captain Nadir began stomping towards Orison, the young mage said, "If the next thing out of your mouth is stronger than a calmly stated ''why?'' the row we are about to have today will be legendary in the history of a** chewings.


    Captain Nadir clenched his jaw so tightly for a moment that Orison imagined he heard the cracking of tooth enamel as the captain asked why in a voice that rumbled like distant thunder.


    "Disease, moderately contagious and set to sweep right towards us through New Fvaris... How do I know? The medicine, the direction he''s beating that summoned horse and because I F***ING asked!" Orison started calmly and ended red faced and screaming.


    Nadir stood stonily as Orison took a couple of deep breaths to calm his screaming nerves then said, "Lets finish this conversation in your office. I''ll explain properly."


    With both of their rages flaring, it took no time at all before they were in Nadir''s office with the aid dismissed.


    The captain led, "Five minutes, Orison! Avoiding disrespect and putting a fool''s cap on me, yet again, would have only taken five minutes."


    Orison said, "No, it would have taken five minutes to get your attention, who knows how long before you were willing to talk to me and who knows how much talking before I could convince you. Comfortably based off past examples, I''d put that at about an hour or so...


    "Did you notice I gave that merchant a scroll worth 150 gold just to get him to his destination a little faster? That was to make up the difference and put him ahead maybe an hour instead of getting there nearly half a day later. Do I strike you as being that generous for no reason?"


    Orison let Nadir have a lead to rant and rage himself out while he thought of his next step. "Yeah, I hear you. I could tell you about an extra half a day of suffering. I could tell you about how many more untreated could end up spreading it out of desperation for help or relief. I could tell you of people drowning in rivers trying to quell the fever and spreading the disease down stream. Likely, you''d not care about the little details that don''t affect you or the consulate so I''ll get to that.


    "In a half a day, many things can happen but the most important of those is the people who will have been beyond saving, either their lives or a recovery that would grant them the ability to return to working and providing for their families instead of being a burden. What matters is the excuse it provides to Revivalist sympathizers. What matters is that Summerland Domain is waiting in the wings for their chance to get what Centerland is getting now. What matters to me, is that you''ll split the earnings exactly as I instructed Morrel and you''ll return the trade officer to his post with a warning to look the other way on smuggled medicine, ALWAYS, because we can''t afford the consequences."


    Nadir said, "I represent Centerland law. I can''t look the other way when a crime is committed blatantly."


    Tiredly, Orison said, "What you can''t look the other way from is a little over 300 gold you''ll have to give back... Alright, give it to me along with an extra 100 since that was what the guy took from my pocket directly from my tax exemption day celebration."


    Nadir scowled and said, "What are going on about now?"


    Orison said, "Well Captain, since you are a ''by the books guy that can''t overlook the law'', I have to record it along with the empire''s proper share of reclaimed goods and money. 119 gold was stolen from me directly and reclaimed with the help of me and my own people. 296 gold belongs to Centerland logistics in the care of the empire''s military fund."


    "I could have you relieved of post duty and awaiting trial for releasing a fugitive." Nadir said coldly.


    Orison began smiling benevolently and said, "You could but after I was exonerated for doing so within the breadth of my power as diplomatic exercise with just cause, I''d have you hanged for treason."


    Nadir frowned and threatened, "You wouldn''t live long enough to see a courtroom."


    "We''ll make great bedfellows in the mass grave the consulate will turn into before a week''s out...All over 300 f***ing gold coins, you stubborn tw*t. Release the trade officer and give him half the money back." Orison spoke soothingly.


    The captain growled, "I''ll have you cough up every last copper of it plus interest before we''re done, Legate."


    Orison said blandly, "Don''t act like you''re doing me a favor I owe you for. Even if I didn''t talk you into releasing him they''d only send another just like him or worse and that one would arrive alert and scheming against you before he even unpacked."


    Nadir said, "I don''t know what kind of fresh faced recruit you take me for, Orison, but I''ve served under monsters and with idiots and schemers my entire career. I''d be just fine. You need to worry about yourself and the lack of support you actually have."


    Orison nodded and said, "You''re absolutely right, Captain. I''m tired of playing around. Two thirds of the resources you and your men spent, enjoyed and have, came directly from my pocket... My inheritance and holdings have been keeping this place running since day one and we''ve got nothing but grudging support and complaints from you. I am one headache away from claiming hardship and sewing up the bloody hemorrhage this security unit has turned out to be."


    Nadir sneered and said, "You''d leave everyone here to fend for themselves for two months while you have to live with them?"


    Orison smiled and said, "Everyone? No. Just the ones who don''t pay allegiance to me, directly."


    "You can try but it''s empty allegiance. As soon as a single official steps off a boat they''ll be back in formation and watching passively as you swing." Nadir scoffed.


    Orison calmly stood up and walked to the door, "You''re the one drawing lines in the sand. If you hadn''t done a single thing more than be a captain to your men not a damn thing would be different in this place except the relationship between my family and you... And here you were, worried that bad superiors would ruin Cray. How long ago were you ruined?"


    After making sure that the grateful and repentant trade officer was released with his empty purse refilled, Orison directly passed on his message about ''medicine smugglers''. He went back to the consulate and had the secretary and Morrel create a current and future week sheet of expenditures showing Centerland and Cantrip family''s share of pay in large, bold and circled totals. While they were doing that he used Transcribe to create a copy of the consulate''s account ledger.


    A quarter of an hour into supper, Orison walked into the dinning hall, posted the current and future week''s sheets onto the wall then laid the copy of the ledger under it on a stone table formed and carried in by a golem. Seeing the soldier''s curious eyes on him, he smiled at all of them tiredly. With a ''help yourself'' gesture to the papers and the ledger, he had the golem carve the word ''transparency'' on the stone table then got in line to eat the same thing the soldiers were having. While Orison slowly ate, mind turned to the night''s planned ghost hunt, Claudius and Corvinus joined him.


    Only a small number of soldiers were savvy enough to understand the ledger but a great deal could understand the two sheets which only had one small and one large column apiece. It didn''t take long for the few to verify to the many how everything ''looked'' and that got the ''old timers'' to start telling stories about what it was like before a little boy and his mom stepped into a run down and trampled fort. Everything, both good and bad, was laid bare to all the soldiers in the dinning hall that evening, admittedly with embellishments and wrong assumptions but the gist of what Orison wanted to convey made it through.


    By the time that Orison handed his tray over to the washer, he''d received a pat on the shoulders or a whispered word of gratitude from nearly half there. The majority of the soldiers who didn''t know him personally were no longer glancing at him with indifferent eyes. Some admired and some feared, depending on what they were told but there were very few that didn''t carry some form of respect and by the next morning there wasn''t a single soldier who didn''t know the small but eventful history of the consulate or who was responsible for it''s current state.

 35 OEW

    Sneaking out had been a great deal more difficult than Orison thought it would be. The increase in security personnel meant tighter and more alert roaming patrols. As much as he didn''t want to admit it, Orison was beginning to understand Nadir''s increased confidence in the consulate to handle itself against the infrequent raids that had decimated the place before.


    Orison didn''t believe that this nightly outing would be more than a couple times thing to begin with. Since he and Gan were almost caught by a pair of soldiers patrolling the wall and once again making it out of the few hundred yards of patrolled area around the perimeter, he decided to be bold about it instead after this time. The obsidian elf with the infected toe and the medicine smuggler had inspired Orison with a decent cover reason to be skulking around outlier native areas during unsanctioned hours. After all, the consulate may have an apprentice healer on hand now but Orison''s skills still had him being called to the sick room from time to time.


    "I wonder what Specialist Caius would fleece from me to read his medical books," Orison thought out loud.


    Gan whispered, "Stupid Horse''s steps at least sounds like an animal, Little Boss. Probably not the best time to be having conversations."


    Chastened, Orison remained silent until they reached their destination, a rather large but withered and dead tree. As they waited, the occasional scent of sea could be smelled on the gentle but invigorating breeze drifting up from the southwest. Suddenly the air took a strange feel as the wind became cool enough to make goosebumps stand up on the pair''s arms, raising the fine hairs on the napes of their necks.


    Orison was naturally a bit more sensitive to the supernatural than the average person but what Gan lacked in sensitivity he made up for in general alert paranoia. As they backed away from the tree, fine tendrils of mist began wreathing around them with the dead oak as the center. Dashing with all their might, Orison and Gan barely made it to the thin and calm outer rim of the unnatural swirl of dense fog that concealed the tree from sight.


    A set of red eyes slowly bobbing toward them said congenially, "No real harm in getting caught within. Well, there is if someone panics. It''s easy to accidentally hurt a friend when you''re randomly swinging and firing off arrows or magic in poor visibility."


    Orison said irritably, "So, a test to see if we can hold ourselves together in an unknown and potentially hostile situation."


    Nub chuckled. "Not particularly. If I had that little faith, I wouldn''t have agreed to this at all. In truth, I just thought this would be a nice warm-up spot and let your Northerner friend shake some nerves off by getting in there and striking down a ''mourning one''."


    Gan let out a subdued laugh and said, "It''s quite a ways til morning. Are we supposed to wait here until the fog starts clearing before we hunt?"


    Orison slapped his forehead as Nub let out a belly laugh like a man who hadn''t done so in some time and was out of practice.


    "Not quite. I''m going to give you a new weapon, he who ''walks first''. I figure you can get familiar with it and shake off your dread of weak little barely sentient bed sheets. Two birds with one stone," Nub said with suppressed mirth.


    Gan took the delicate and slightly fancy looking silver blade from Nub and said, "I''m going it alone?"


    Nub nodded and said, "I''d send Orison in with you but it would likely be more attracted to him than you. He might accidentally smack it out of annoyance and that would be it. Listen, this is a fledgling training ground and you''re far from a stranger to combat. Hit it once or twice and it will lose enough strength to go back into hibernation for a few months. I''d actually appreciate if you didn''t kill it though. It''s for training after all."


    Gan test swung the blade a few times then looked at the dense section of fog skeptically for a moment before he barreled in.


    Orison sighed and said, "How long does he get before you consider it a fail and don''t want him to tag along?"


    Nub said, "It''s a little more complex than that. Attracting the ghost can take some time and it gets quite shy after taking a hit. It''s more a test of patience and nerves. Within a half hour or so, it should stalk him. If he takes it down with one swing then so be it but if it''s still got some verve, it''ll try to keep it''s distance and harass him.


    "If he doesn''t lose his grit, it''ll open a way for him to leave. If he gives in, he''ll be in there til a couple of hours before dawn. The worst case, he comes out exhausted and unfit for ghost hunting for awhile. Best case, in five minutes or so we have a person who''ll not fear them ever again unless an elder ghost damages his psyche or an ancestor ghost gives him a spiritual wound."


    Orison contradicted, "Worst case scenario, he comes out two hours from dawn a mental child because it broke him... I''m giving it an hour then I''m lighting up that tree in the middle like a midwinter bonfire. I''d rather owe you for a new training ground than let my friend come out a psychological cripple."


    A little surprised, Nub said, "You have that little faith in your companion?"


    Orison shook his head and said, "I have a great deal of faith in him. I''m just not willing to take unnecessary risks with my people''s well being."


    Nub said, "Honestly, it''s not that harrowing. A few repetitions of the same trick and even the most cowardly will become numb to it and stop caring. Their fear often turns into anger from there. I''ve yet seen a fledgling fail one of these more than once."


    Orison looked at Nub and said, "Around two months ago, Gan saw two of his band mates torn apart by corpse puppets while guardian spirits used their fear and pain to strengthen themselves. Although this method is a bit extreme, if he can make light work of this ghost, he could step out of the shadow of his trauma in one quick stride. If not, I can''t let him stay in there all night."


    Nub nodded and said, "I can see the process. Still, losing a training ground is not a small thing. It''s not that big of a thing either but you''ll owe some compensation. It''s not my personal property... Speaking of which..."


    Nub handed Orison a few small sacks of coins worth around 500 gold, a quiver of twenty silver tipped arrows and two silver daggers. With a little hesitation, he handed Orison two yellowed scrolls still in good condition. Lastly, Nub handed him a small fisher''s net that was decorated with little silver beads and a few heavier silver weights around it''s edges.


    "That last one''s a loaner. If it gets shredded or lost, that''s going to be another 200 gold. It''s really not worth that much but I had to borrow it on short time and that was the condition." Nub said with a mild annoyance written on his face.


    Orison nodded absentmindedly while looking at the scrolls. "What''s on these? They only have this little sun thing on them and I have no idea what that means."


    Nub smiled a little nervously and said, "What do you get if you take the basic fire projectile spell and mix it with the basic healing one?"


    Orison''s eyes lit up. "A spell that necromancers would wish didn''t exist."


    "Necromancers? It''s a spell no undead capable of thinking would want to exist. That includes vampires. Please be very careful with them. We pried those from the dead hands of a weird cult acolyte a few years back. I figured they''d make good last resort options for you."


    Under Nub''s disbelieving eyes, Orison cracked the first one open and exercised all his power to burn the spell model into his mind before the glow faded, untriggered. Quickly, Orison cast a transcribe into his journal and started writing notes.


    More than a little unsettled, Nub said, "Orison, what in the Abyss are you doing? Those things are antiques from my personal collection! It''ll take ages for you to turn a bare model into anything worth while so why would you even bother? Right now, I just want to cry. Those things are practically priceless in the hands of a collector!"


    While Nub grumbled and simmered, Orison dedicated his all to the task of overlaying the two separate models he actually already possessed versions of. Thankfully he''d made a low grade heal model for Thorrinson or it wouldn''t have worked nearly fast enough before the model and his somewhat skewed transcribe made from the light afterimage of the model in his eyes became too obscure for him to mentally follow.


    "Fascinating. You can actually make a model this way? Two apprentice level flat models from conflicting schools overlaid, turned into a three dimensional model that''s still apprentice level. Trim the overlap, connect edges, some redesigns to maintain functionality of desired form and viola, an ultra vi- positive energy fire shot," Orison mumbled as he cribbed notes under the night vision power of his mask.


    A still slightly out of breath Gan with bird''s nest hair said, "We''re, uh, ready to go when you are, Little Boss."


    Orison looked up, slightly stunned. "How long has it been?"


    "About an hour and a half," Nub said wryly.


    Color draining from his face, Orison said, "I said an hour, Nub. I may have been a little out of it but I wasn''t that worried because you were here."


    Nub said blandly, "He came out of the fog after a half hour ''by accident''. The ghost didn''t seem to have a taste for angry and Abyss bent Northlander. It was running away from him the whole time. Since you seemed busy, he wanted to practice hunting it."


    To avoid heckling, Orison handed Stupid Horse''s reigns over to Gan once the scout was situated behind him and slipped back into model theory. For the next quarter of an hour, as Nub led them to that night''s real hunt spot, Orison partially cast and corrected his theoretical model. Nub grumbled the whole way over how wasteful and irresponsible Orison was being until two minutes before their destination, a wobbly and weak looking violet ember floated out and extinguished with little flair.


    "Three casts... Just three more casts and I think I''ll have it. Just give me a little breather and I''ll be ready." Orison said.


    Nub muttered, "We''re not even there yet... Ganga Fyrstr, who is Orison''s master?"


    Gan shrugged his shoulders and said, "I think he''s self taught."


    Once they reached their destination, Nub turned and reflexively flinched at a violet glow. "We-We''re here. You do realize the sensation of having one of those that close is like someone shoving a hot poker next to my face?"


    "Oh, right. Sorry about that. Never mind about the breather. As long as we''re not knee deep I should be good with half of my reserve, right?" Orison said.


    Nub sighed, "I think of things from a fighter''s perspective. We''re well rested, you''re magic''s for big fish and surprises. Is there ever enough preparation for surprises? If someone manages to put a number or weight to that, I want to be the first to hear it... Enough bleating around. Behind me is a door to an old clan tomb. It''s on the small side if memory serves so it should be a decent first run."


    Nub turned and started digging into a mound behind some skeletal shrubbery.


    Seeing that it was taking some time, Orison said, "Um, Nub, I have a golem."


    Nub backed away and said, "I honestly didn''t expect more than a light layer. Please, be my guest. It''s reassuring that the next time we won''t have to lug around shovels. Nothing shouts ''grave robber'' quite like a shovel over the shoulder in the middle of the night."


    While Orison''s golem got to work, Gan said, "Is that what we''re doing, robbing graves?"


    Nub waved a dismissing hand. "It''s not quite the same in our culture. A tomb without a family to guard it is fair game. To us, a clan tomb isn''t just a place for the dead. It''s a treasury and a temple. Would you ignore an abandoned treasury or disdain raiding a temple that no longer had worshipers?"


    "I found the door... Or what''s left of it anyway." Orison said.


    Nub said, "I''ll tread first. Let me check for weak walls and traps then I''ll come back. If there''s big bad things chasing me, I think you know what to do... If I get buried, I can probably get myself out but I''d appreciate some assistance. One time I had to dig for nearly a week to get out and I was in such a frenzy that I... I''d rather not have that happen again."


    "We''ll be waiting right here in nice open space," Orison beamed as Nub slipped into the dark maw of the tomb.


    Gan said, "Won''t he, you know, sample the best before we go in?"


    Orison shrugged. "So what if he does? Treasure hunting is sidebar for us. Besides, it''s his place and he''s taking the biggest risks. If he gets lucky I''m sure he''ll save us some broth after he eats his fill"


    After a few minutes, Gan said, "Get ready, Little Boss. Two red eyes are heading this way quick."


    Catching light of the entrance, Nub yelled, "Too big! Run!"


    Strangely unsurprised, Orison smashed a bottle of strong alcohol on his golem and set it on fire then sent it to ''hug'' Nub''s pursuer. Seeing that Nub wasn''t panicked, just concerned, Orison didn''t trigger a collapse. He just had Gan stand in front of him and spammed unstable fireballs into the entrance as soon as Nub cleared it.


    Nub spun around to see that instead of running with him, Orison had set his golem on fire and sent it to hug the elder ghost while shooting fireballs ''through'' it, hitting the ghost and it''s minions. Before the vampire could rejoin the action, Orison had finished the elder with a battleaxe to the spectral face while Gan finished off the two spectral minions like he was beating them for pie topping.


    Seeing that there were no more coming, Orison sat down with a sigh of relief as he had burned though his pool with such speed it left him lightheaded. Gan walked full clear of the door before he collapsed on to the grass laughing for a couple seconds before he started snoring. Nub looked at the both of them in a mix of amusement and disbelief.


    The vampire said, "That was foolish. Impressive, I admit, but foolish none the less... Without vital potion, Ganga Fyrstr won''t be back to any kind of battle ready for a couple of days. A breath or two more enervation from those specters and his life would have been in real danger. As it is, he probably lost about a year''s worth of longevity, give or take. If that elder had touched either one of you... I gave you silver arrows for a reason."


    Orison walked over to Gan and smacked the scout''s jaw a few times til he was roused enough to take a drink of stamina potion.


    "He''ll be up in about two or three minutes. I agree with your assessment but if we had tried to run, the elder would have probably thrown spells at us. In life, most of these guys were destruction or necromancy mages, right?" Orison said.


    Ignoring the question, Nub asked, "How did your golem even manage to slow the elder down? That''s what really bought you the extra breath you needed."


    Orison said, "With Rithus'' help, I''ve been running some basic level alchemy to make as much refined salt as I can. That stuff if almost worth it''s weight in gold, literally. It was kind of a waste but it was our first run and I was half expecting some unpleasant surprise. It wasn''t over my left shoulder or anything but I tossed some salt into the ground I made the golem from, you know, for good luck."


    Nub stroked his goatee and asked, "Why did you set the golem on fire? I know every little bit helps but..."


    Orison said, "Well, that was more improvisation but I did notice that the elder had a hard time locking onto our presence. It also made the elder hesitate before it moved through the golem. To be honest, I''m kind of disappointed the salt only slowed the ghost down instead of stopping it from moving through at all."


    "Well, we can wait here for a few minutes, if that''s all your friend needs but we can''t spend too much loitering around. We may be past Longest Day but..." Nub said.


    Gan got up and shook himself like a dog. "Ready to whip some more egg whites, Little Boss."


    "Take the rear guard with your bow, Gan. If you got grappled by another ghost before you completely recover, it really will affect your longevity." Orison said.


    Orison quickly explained to Gan that vitality sapping ghosts actually could be considered ''life drinkers'' after a fashion but what really affected a person''s life span was the deep tissue necrosis. Elders were so dangerous because they could draw large amounts quickly and could focus their draw point to the head to incapacitate their victims. Between stamina potion, a touch of healing and the scout''s enchanted ring providing a constant small trickle, as long as the scout didn''t consistently get sucked on, necrosis wouldn''t occur.


    "Break time''s over. We need to get this done." an impatient Nub proclaimed.

 36 OEW

    "Hey look, Little Boss. They left some jelly behind." Gan said.


    While Nub was checking urns and small boxes lining the hall, Orison carefully packed away the spectral remains. A few times, Nub would caution them to step around certain areas, more for the thin crust of dirt covering sink holes than any man made traps. It wasn''t long before they had cleared the hollow at the end that carried a small chest filled with little more than a collection of rusty equipment and a few coins.


    Nub said, "I don''t understand. I mean, sure, a ghost can grow stronger by consuming other ghosts or absorbing ambient energy if it was a special place but how could an elder sustain itself and two specters here? There''s not even an ancestral tablet..."


    Orison thought, "If tablets act as a focus for faith like the statue of the unnamed warrior in Whiteriver, then maybe my finder sense can pick it up."


    He closed his eyes and focused on the energy sense Find Objective had turned into. Further down and in front of Orison, close to a city block away, lay a faint pinging glow in his mind''s eye. "There has to be a trap door or false wall, Nub."


    The vampire chuckled. "That''s a fanciful thought, Orison, but sometimes it''s just a poor haul. Perhaps the keepers took the tablet with them when they fled to the coastal lands."


    Orison looked at Nub irritably and summoned his golem from the loose and lightly packed dirt around the hollow. While Nub looked on in indulgent pity hiding a weak but hopeful anticipation, Orison started check the most likely places based off the weak energy signal below. Catching enthusiasm, Gan went twisting and pulling a few sconces that lined the chamber using the candle flame spell he''d learned by rote from Orison to light his way. Unable to find any mechanism, or at least not one that worked, Orison used the golem to slowly poke a few bricks out till he found a space behind them.


    "Do that much more and you''re going to bury us, Orison," Nub said nervously.


    Orison smiled and gestured to the space behind a wall. "What''s that look like to you, Nub?"


    The two came to investigate Orison''s find and saw a set of uneven stairs at the end of a sturdy, roughly hewn hallway.


    "To be fair, this section was walled away a very long time ago, Nub. The outer portion was likely appropriated by an affluent family who DID take their tablet with them." Orison said, trying to be a gracious ''winner''.


    Grateful to be exonerated, Nub said, "This would definitely be a dent to my expertise otherwise. I''ve been doing this for a long time, you know."


    Gan mumbled to himself, "Being good at finding traps is one thing but being a grave robber''s nothing to be proud of."


    "Point of contention between cultures, Northlander." Nub said adroitly.


    Orison cut off the potential culture comparison conversation to ask, "Speaking of expertise. Have you seen this terraco- this type of clay baking before?"


    Having gotten to the base of the stairs, after the golem smoothed out a small collapsed area, in front of them was a wide vista with stalactites merging into crumbled walls.


    "I''ve heard of it but never seen it myself. I honestly believed it to be the fever dreams of a tomb ''explorer'' who ran foul of an old volcano vent." Nub said.


    Seeing no apparent dangers, the three spread out to comb the place before meeting in the center. None had anything to show aside from Orison who offered a look at some patterned clay fragments he guessed once may have been ornamental statues. Something, it seemed, only he had interest in.


    While Nub checked out the rusty but otherwise well preserved ancient lock box, Orison tried to interact with the large memorial tablet that had sunk partially into the floor. Though there were still granules of ''faith'' essence still in it, reminiscent of the warrior statue in Whiteriver, it was unresponsive to him. As an offhanded experiment, Orison tried to will some into his space.


    For a small moment, Orison was bombarded by weak whispers of people asking for things, people who he had no doubt were already long gone from this world. Something deep within himself rejected the presence of this energy and in response, his space ''burned it off'' like how much of the ring of crystal had been. Since it seemed useless for much else, Orison funneled the remaining essence into his space to aid it in digesting the boundary item.


    Orison thought to himself, "How weak was my space in comparison that the damn box almost choked it to death trying to swallow it?"


    If nothing else, the trip to this place had earned him the largest unblackened crystal he had yet to ever form and some aid for his space''s ongoing indigestion. He also had a decent idea of what Lily had meant by ''structure poison''. While leaning against the largest of the stalactites nearby, Orison contemplated the nature of these higher energy sources and had a sneaking suspicion that there were ways to wipe off the ''structure'' within it to claim for one''s self. After all, to some degree that was what his space was doing to the box and, in theory, what he did to the miasma after a fashion.


    Hovering near Nub, Gan said, "Why don''t you just smash it open?"


    Sighing Nub said, "Because, the most valuable things possibly in this damn lock box are fragile and I''d break them."


    Remembering a nearly useless spell set he had, Orison pushed off the stalactite and walked over to offer what aid he could. During the process of clearing away rust and particles inside the tumbler, there was a large ''crack'' sound where he had been standing. With a forceful push of kinetic magics, Orison popped the lid up and had the much faster Nub scoop up the contents while he and Gan started running back to the stairs.


    They didn''t make it but a few paces before a section of the floor gave way to fall into a dim and distant red glow below them. After Nub and Orison managed to grab up Gan who''d almost fallen in, they beat feet back to the entrance.


    ''Gan said, "Wait. When I almost fell, I caught a glimpse of a large soapstone box with stuff all around it, kind of dangling underneath in a carved out nook under there somewhere."


    Gan pointed past the collapsed piece of floor to the back where the stalactites were thickest.


    Orison shared a look with Nub that showed a similar thought on what that ''soapstone'' actually was.


    "If Orison promises not to knock anymore stone icicles loose, I''ll take a look," Nub said.


    Orison said, "I really hate that I''m about to say this but as long as you have a way to anchor and pull me back up, I might be the better choice to go. Things are already unstable over there and it might only be a one chance grab. I''ve got the superior retrieval ability."


    Nub sighed, "This whole outing''s been filled with trust exercises. What''s one more?"


    The vampire produced a coil of tightly woven silk string he insisted was several times stronger and resistant to fraying than standard rope. After being secured, the young mage care fully made his way to the uncovered burial chamber, looking for all intents and purposes like a severely swollen uvula.


    As he made his way over for first haul, Orison thought, "How did this insane thing stay here for so long?"


    Three trips and two hours later, Orison was running healing through his scraped and bleeding fingers that had been abused, even through the leather gloves, from all the free hand climbing. Aside from the lid which he barely managed to store, the rest of the jade coffin was still sitting down here. Unwilling to leave it, Nub suggested breaking it into pieces. Orison wasn''t keen but since Nub would give him the reagents and writings without deducting from his and Gan''s cut, Orison said he''d try for one more haul.


    With a whispered apology to the dust blown out the side of the coffin, Orison started loading pieces away after he hilt punched the corner fittings to slide a side off. Once stored, Orison was making his way back when a woman''s head peaked around the edge of the dangling burial chamber.


    Heart hammering in his chest, in a congenial voice, Orison said, "Uh, hi there."


    He was answered by a shriek joined by another. Two succubus like creatures swiveled around the air before they lunged at him with talon feet. In a panic, Orison went to his go to for magically provided tanking. The summoned golem appeared in front of Orison and latched on to the leather winged women right before the floor gave way.


    Orison screamed like a toddler as he began a free fall to certain death below. With a last desperate bid to kill the summoner and free itself, the nearest bat winged woman raked her unclasped foot down Orison''s side. Reflexive instinct had Orison holding his bowels in from the opened abdominal part of the raking while inborn magical gift prompted a perfunctory trickle of healing. The sudden snap of unforgiving silk rope stopped any further consideration for anything as the pain of his ruptured wound and spinal damage caused Orison''s consciousness to plummet into black oblivion.


    "Come on, Little Boss. You got to wake up and do something or you''re not going to make it." Gan''s pleading brushed against the fuzzy feverish borders of Orison''s mind.


    A dull thud to the side of his face, rocked Orison''s numb and sleepy world. He forced his heavy lids open to find out what was not letting him rest in peace. Through hazy and incoherent thoughts, he looked at Gan''s concerned face and realized something was wrong.


    "Is somebody sick or hurt? I''m too tired." the string of unintelligible sounds that came out of Orison''s mouth sounded nothing like they did in his head.


    To keep them from bothering him, he dropped a healing, cure poison and disease potion with another mumble that was meant to inform Gan that if they were wasted, he''d be mad but only sounded like weak moans. Feeling as if he''d done all he could with how tired he was, Orison drifted back into darkness. Before peace could claim him, fluids assaulted his throat.


    He coughed weakly and spluttered trying to ask why he was being drowned but all he received was yet another unwanted bit of liquid that tasted different to the last. He struggled weakly trying to stop the assault but every time he managed to choke it down, more was added. Finally, the drowning attacks stopped but then a tingling itch that revved up to screaming muscles and lower limbs kept the fringes of darkness away.


    Orison''s eyes flew open. With returning clarity, he looked around at Nub and Gan''s concerned faces. Looking down, he could see signs that his belly had begun to swell and bruise. With cold logic kicking in, he realized he''d been on the very edge of dying from intestinal seepage into his abdominal cavity. All the healing provided by his amulet and Gan''s ring combined could do nothing for a rampant spread of bacteria. Even his resistance to poison and disease that sprung from his body''s resistance to change couldn''t keep up with a steady supply of toxins and microscopic lifeforms from his own ruptured bowels.


    Noticing the dangerous level of flagging strength from his body, Orison chugged down a stamina potion and got to work. Since all of it was sealed inside of him and he was already weakened dangerously, his only option was to do what he could to assist his body in a natural purge.


    In a voice barely over a whisper, Orison said, "I need water and strip me so I don''t soil my clothes. The potions will only get me so far and there''s only three places where things can come out without putting another hole in me... Apologies in advance."


    A couple more cure poisons applied with directed will and Orison purged his body''s toxins in the way nature intended. Even knowing ahead of time, Orison ejected the various waste his body would allow in embarrassed misery. Being cleaned by a patient and compassionate Gan, like a newborn, was something he vowed to forget as soon as time and cheap liquor would allow.


    Seeing morning sky peek through Nub''s cabin window, Orison said, "We''re not going to be making it back before we''re missed. Mom''s going to freak out."


    Gan said, "It''s fine. Nub disguised himself as a village runner and left a message at the guard station that you were delivering a child or whatever. He should be back shortly... I was really scared there. People usually don''t even come back from half what I saw."


    In an effort to divert his own mind from yet another brush with death, Orison said, "What did you guys do about the tomb? There were Abyss monsters down there. We can''t just leave it exposed or things could get really bad!"


    Gan said, "Nub took care of it... I mean, I didn''t see it myself but he said that the next time someone went there all they''d see is a sinkhole filled with seawater."


    Orison weakly chuckled and said, "In the future, if you see me take the mask off ''to breath a little easier'', the code phrase to remind me of common sense is ''baby wipe''."


    Orison spent the rest of the day in a state of alternating naps, healing and bathroom breaks before the abdominal swelling went down. Come late evening an exhausted and overtaxed Nub came sauntering in with his progeny to check on him. With everything back in order, Orison handed over the last of the jade and Nub gave him what gold he could scrape together in anticipation of more to come. The vampire also gave him two more bottles of blood mix to keep on hand for him.


    "To bad I can''t build a resistance to the sun or by now I''d be able to walk around like everyone else. Two thirds because of you, Orison. I''ve done more vampire suicide runs than I have in the previous five years combined and the year''s only half way over," Nub said tiredly.


    "All the more reason to enjoy my company. I keep your life exciting," Orison said with feeble humor.


    The vampire woman said, "No offense to you or my sire but perhaps more recreational outings can be postponed for a few days. Both of you have jobs to do that won''t wait easily for recovery."


    "A few days? Surely my young friend here should have filled his needs and then some... Orison, I don''t know how dire your circumstances are but once your full share has arrived, an additional five to seven thousand will be settling into your coffers." Nub said, plea for an end to unofficial adventures obvious in his voice and eyes.


    Orison nodded and said, "Gold was a secondary from the beginning but I got what I needed. I have a strict two day policy on recovery from the brink of death anyway.. Just so you''re aware, I have no reserve of the crystals I gave you and I don''t know when I''ll be getting more."


    "I thought you could get two more of the large ones." Nub said, obviously having no problem with his memory.


    Sighing, Orison said, "If we had been hunting in the range I was expecting, then there would have been. Please tell me you didn''t over sell in anticipation of more."


    "Sh*t," Nub said.


    Orison looked inside at the two soul crystals that were so large and pure they had a faint opal sheen in pale imitation of the eternium crystal slowly growing inside the black crystal formation. A third was slowly burning like a fat midwinter log in a part of his space he could only bear looking at for a short time. Finally he observed the ring of powder and chips orbiting the formation as the two pristine ones were gradually finding their balanced place in it.


    With a faintly irritated tint in his weary voice, Orison said, "Get a small box, Nub. No use pointing fingers when we''re all guilty of something. I can''t give you a whole crystal but I can give you enough powder to keep you in good standing. If you can run in the sun for me, the least I can do is scrape the bottom of the pot for you."


    Nub rummaged around until he found a clean, suspiciously urn-like container. "Thanks for being understanding about it. I''ll be a little more careful in the future."


    As Orison dumped a good third of the volume of his crystal ring, he said, "I could say the same back. Then you could say it again after Gan took a turn. Doesn''t change that one of us will screw up again sometime... For example... Progeny of Nub, I''ll be more careful in the future. Thanks for being understanding about it."


    She raised an eyebrow and said, "Who said I was being understanding about it? I''m just not in any hurry to pay back my grudge."


    Orison sighed. "Always somebody who doesn''t want to play by the rules everyone else is using."


    Ambling back on Stupid Horse, Orison rode behind Gan for a change. Still weary and feeble feeling, Orison desired to be as responsibility free as possible.


    Passing back Gan''s enchanted ring, he said, "So the story is a long and complicated delivery? Nub''s assurance that he could ''borrow'' a mother and a baby if the need arose disturbs me a little."


    Gan was silent for awhile, then said, "I''m not one to look sideways at a proven friend and ally but what about ''vampire'' do you not seem to get? There is absolutely no good to come of associating long term with such creatures. If the endless stories of the suffering they cause, even to those they care for, isn''t evidence enough, what can I say?"


    Orison tried to parry, "Other than dietary needs and a few allergies, they aren''t that much different... Which is to say they have understandable psychology."


    "Instinct and darkness at the very core of their existence, is the difference. An abbot from THE Sanctuary wrote a whole book about vampires. You can read it in the mercenary guild-house there at Whiteriver. He claimed that a person''s soul is corroded almost to nothingness in the process of becoming a vampire. It is the filling of that emptiness with the essence of darkness and death that grants them their strength. In time, they come to resemble a creature of the Abyss themselves. Their mortal form becomes no more than a disguise to make hunting easier." Gan said.


    Orison said, "No offense meant. I knew you could read but I didn''t take you for a person who enjoyed it."


    Gan drawled lazily, "Back when I decided to specialize as a scout, I took it a little more serious than most. Outside of that, I do like a good hair raiser. Or I used to, at least. These days, I''m just happy to get an uninterrupted sleep... I thought I''d be good after knocking those ghosts around but then I saw you almost get gutted by that...thing. No, I don''t think I have a taste for that kind of story anymore.


    "When she taught me how to read, Gran told me that people most enjoyed reading what their life lacked. Maybe I''ll switch to romances. Don''t tell anyone I said that. I''d rather admit to swapping spit with an old wood elf first."


    Orison thought about the type of books he enjoyed reading on Earth. He had to admit that Gan''s ''Gran'' might be on to something. After what he''d been through here, many of his favorite stories probably wouldn''t have the same appeal they once did.

 37 OEW

    Keen on rest, Orison only checked in with his mother in brief summary letting Gan fill in the blanks. After getting a bath drawn by an uncharacteristically subdued Yulian, Orison filed away the need to get a more detailed picture of household affairs once he was up to it. After a proper washing, Orison donned his health restoring amulet, stamina regenerating ring and an elemental resistance ring that made the daytime heat of his room bearable. Flopping onto his bed, he lazily reached for his underclothes with halfhearted intentions towards decency that didn''t quite overcome his stronger desire for more sleep.


    A light rapping at his door woke him up. He had a bleary recollection of asking Yulian to send someone at midday, figuring at that point he''d be rested enough to get through the rest of the day with the last bit of bruising and abdominal distention resolved. Before he could answer whomever the ''alarm clock'' was, the door opened crisply. A different kind of alarm bell rang in his head as the realization of his nakedness cut through the blur of sleep.


    "Legate Cantrip, Your La-" The secretary froze.


    Orison, who was caught mid attempt scrambling behind him for the edge of the sheet he was laying on, froze half propped and stretched out, unintentionally looking like a model posing for a smutty book cover. With it being the only person on the consulate staff he absolutely refused to act like an embarrassed teen in front of, he went for the only other option available.


    Unhurriedly, Orison sat up on the side of the bed and gave her a lazy side glance as he reached for his underclothes. "Madam Secretary, I''m obviously not decent. Would you mind closing the door while you explain yourself?"


    Orison''s imagined scene of her rushing back out and stammering to a closed door, didn''t happen. Instead, unclear whether it came from being flustered or boldness, the cheeky woman closed the door behind her. While inspecting her shoes with occasional sneaky glances up she explained herself as Orison tied on his loincloth with a slow deliberateness that had more to do with not wanting to show his own shocked nervousness than to add to his perverse aristocrat act.


    While slipping on his pants and leather greaves, the secretary relayed that Droya had sent her to not only wake him up but to inform him that there were two missives and a parcel waiting for him along with an angry patrician wanting to complain to him directly. Message delivered but looking unsure of what to do, she stood in front of the closed door, hands pressed over each other on her stomach. Catching her glancing downward, yet again, Orison dropped the undone laces of his pants as a somewhat wicked idea spun through his head. Walking over to her, he placed a hand on the door, over her shoulder.


    Doing his best to loom over her with an arrogant smirk, he said, "Madam Secretary, I do believe you enjoyed catching me in a vulnerable moment."


    She stammered with slightly upturned and wide eyes, "Legate, I- I meant no disrespect. I-it won-"


    Orison interrupted. "If you enter my room without acknowledgment again, I''ll take it as an invitation to punish you... Would you like that, to be punished? How long has it been since you were spanked, Madam Secretary?"


    Speechless and on the verge of hyperventilating, he noticed that the stimulation was a bit too rich for the poor elf so he released her from the improvised kabedon and took a couple of steps back. "Well, do you have other matters to attend to or are you trying to call my bluff?"


    With one hand still clutched to her stomach, she batted for the door handle with the other as if she was afraid if she took her eyes off of him, he''d maul her. After a fumbled first attempt, she managed to get the door open with just enough space to wedge herself through. She was off like a dart but not before closing the door with polite gentleness. With no one to show off to, Orison finished getting dressed.


    Not in the mood to deal with screaming merchants yet, he went to the private office first. Crossing his fingers it wasn''t some grizzly trophy of some kind, Orison opened the package addressed to him on the table to find a pair of familiar boots. With childlike glee, he cleaned the mud and bloodstains off of them then mended them before immediately taking the leather greaves off and putting his old friends back on.


    The stylized card inside read, " When I come to take what belongs to my clan I hope you can run fast, boy. A rabid animal like you is best served set loose to ravage Centerland sheep."


    Smiling widely, Orison thought, "An honest enemy really is better than a false friend."


    Next, Orison opened the plain and rustic looking missive. Inside was a poorly spelled thank you letter with uneven lines that looked like it had been written with a grease pencil. It had been written by a twelve year old girl, practically a kindergartner in elf years. Orison''s ''magic horsey'' had gotten the drug smuggler home fast enough to save her father''s life and before the disease had crippled her older brother. Her mom, who was the village''s healer, was ''with the ancestors'' two days before the arrival of the medicine.


    Between the lines, Orison read the unspoken words of a small girl''s harrowing ordeal of isolation and fear. As mother then father and finally brother took turns giving her someone to talk to during her two weeks of bedroom lock down, the family next door would send water and food from their own likely dwindling supplies through her window slats with a rigged pole after checking to see if she was still alive. Even in the throws of fear and deprivation, this little coastal fishing community had kept it''s spark of compassion alive.


    It wasn''t a feel good kind of story but the bitter sweet story of survival as the real world often was. That the girl took time in her grieving to send the simple thank you letter, cleaned a part of Orison''s heart that had slowly been building up accumulated resentment of late. While washing his hands and carefully dabbing a distilled alcohol soaked rag over the letter, he read it once more with slightly misty eyes.


    After taking a moment to absorb the little ray of spiritual sunshine, he opened the last missive. A Northland trade group had ventured deep into Obsidian''s central lands to provide essential tools and goods to the brave and hearty souls who were taking up residence there. Having completed their mission, they decided to take the remaining distance south instead or returning the way they came. New Fvaris would be hosting them in the completed central structure of the ''Droya Memorial Diplomatic Center''. The reason why Orison was being informed was that one of the Northlanders who acted as the forward scout, claimed to be family and mentioned him by name.


    While reading, Orison muttered over the missive, "My mother is alive and well, okay... It''s just a cultural thing. Living a glorious life for honor after death is built into their thinking. I''m sure it''s meant in the best possible way... So my brother went on a grand adventure while I was sea farming and politicking for survival. The envy, it burns...


    "Everyone''s the main character of their own story, Orison. It''s dumb to think about how his tragic orphan backstory and way of life is more MC-like than yours... It''s absolutely unreasonable to compare overprotective mother and pregnant maid that has a boyfriend to monster loli and hot warrior woman companion... Cold wars with clan leaders and military officers with endless trysts and adventures... Damn dust, always making my eyes water..."


    Taking a quick breather to get himself prepared, Orison made his way to the meeting room and had the secretary escort the ''angry patrician'' to him. As soon as Orison saw who it was, he glared at the secretary for half a second before motioning the trade officer to sit.


    Orison said, "Sorry for the delay. You were somewhat misrepresented. I was expecting a merchant passing through, not a semi-permanent resident of the consulate. What seems to be the pro-"


    The man launched into his diatribe. "Your captain has lost his mind! I honestly don''t know how you managed to get me released from that madman''s clutches but I''m forever grateful... He''s seized the trade house into his governance and is holding all tax revenue until the new legate arrives. I don''t mean disrespect for advising when you''ve proven yourself to be quite adept at ''the game'' but I believe he plans on using the funds as he sees fit, then using the remainder to bribe the new legate. Between the two, they could easily pin the misconduct on you, especially since rumors of your ''dining hall transparency book'' is all the evidence he needs to paint a bleak picture of your personal finances... I-I''m sure they are fine of course but..."


    Orison fumed for a moment before inspiration struck.


    After ordering the secretary to bring him stationary, Orison wrote out a letter, then used transcribe to copy it three times. After affixing official seals on two he sent them out, one to New Fvaris and one to outgoing post to Centerland. The trade officer, who had been reading the letter as Orison wrote it, smiled deviously in evil counterpart to Orison''s serene one.


    The trade officer scrambled to get his personal belongings together as Orison grabbed the consulate sentry on duty to fetch Centurion Calix. While he waited, Orison briefly explained what was happening to Droya and handed over handling their personal household affairs to her. When Calix appeared, nervous and unsure why he''d been summoned, Orison almost cracked up. Seeing the most intimidatingly built Centerlander he''d ever encountered acting like a bully summoned to the principle''s office nearly made the height of his day.


    Orison said, "This letter explains what''s happening today. This list I''m writing now are the names of those I''m inviting to serve under you, VOLUNTARILY, as embassy detail until the new legate arrives. Until such time, you will be acting captain of that detail as Captain Nadir was assigned by a higher power to this specific, physical post. I have no jurisdiction over that, unfortunately. If you serve well, Hefty, it''s not impossible for that to become permanent but even at the least it will be in your records that you served in such a capacity...


    "You have until fourth bell to find these soldiers, try to recruit them and gather belongings. I''ll accept up to three more soldiers of your choosing but that''s as far as I can requisition. One third of the total troops is the limit of my power and I have no desire to have more strange faces surrounding me than known ones. The medical officer is not possible either for the same reason as Captain Nadir. Believe me, I''d yank him too if I could. You can tell him that if he does show up at the embassy at some later date, he''ll not be turned away."


    Orison gave Centurion Calix enough time to digest the letter and go over the names, answering a couple of questions along the way, before dismissing him. While he was doing that, Morrel watched over the outgoing post by the dock to make sure Orison''s letter wasn''t removed from it. Rithus and the Tulius brothers weren''t idle either. With their own belongings, they were loading up the two best carts out of five that were left by various merchants due to tragedy, inconvenience or expense. He didn''t think the captain would commit treason but to insure nothing out of sort happened, Orison had sent his mother and Yulian ahead with Corvinus and Rithus as soon as the first cart was loaded along with the only two real horses they had managed to keep Nadir from requisitioning.


    A little after first bell past midday, Morrel returned with news that the post had left successfully with the return boat. Surprisingly, Orison managed to make a summon horse scroll before Captain Nadir, who''d been busy playing tax collector, had finally managed to count up everything and put it in safekeeping. Orison knew it would take mere seconds after the captain left the trade house''s locked counting room for his aid to inform him of events. Sure enough, not but just a few minutes into his post scroll making breather, Orison saw the captain coming towards the consulate like a summer storm. With Claudius and Morrel flanking either side of him, Orison stopped Captain Nadir''s furious forward momentum with a powerful thrust... of two letters.


    Flickering murderous intent fought with military discipline as the captain reigned in his anger long enough to glimpse through both. "I''m going to strip you of authority now, Orison. After that, I''m going to put you in a cell. Are your men going to resist this action or will you come peacefully?"


    Orison said, "I''ll come peacefully because if they make it here before I meet them in route, you''ll be dealing with Revivalists without my help."


    Captain Nadir sneered as the men he brought with him tensely readied themselves to draw their weapons. "Based off what, these two letters?"


    Orison sighed, "No, Captain. I base that off the two copies of the second letter you have there. One is over an hour''s ride out to New Fvaris and the other is a half hour out to sea. Imprisoning me means dealing with the Le'' Yu.. Leyoo..."


    Morrel cleared his throat and said, "The Liu clan, Orison. Their name means something akin to kill and destroy, I believe. Their surname is not a proper part of the ancient elvish language but it''s an old addition to these islander elves that''s appeared in many historical documents."


    Captain Nadir looked at the two of them as if they were insane. "You''ve probably sentenced us to death. Forget locking you up, why shouldn''t I kill you?"


    Orison shook his head in pity. "Captain, the reason why nothing will really change is locked up in the warehouse right now... Taxes and goods, Captain Nadir. The Revivalist clans aren''t completely insane, you know."


    "Those taxes and goods belong to Centerland. I''d rather see them burn than be stolen. What do you think all these men are even here for?" Nadir said passionately.


    Eyes bleeding venom and suppressed hatred, Orison said, "They were supposed to be here for me. YOU were supposed to be here for me! This WAS a consulate not a merchant guild trade hub. This land doesn''t belong to Centerland! Those taxes belong to the governing body of this land, which it now has. I only took the initiative to return it to it''s rightful owner since I can do my consulate work from the embassy.


    "As far as negotiating with the Speaker of the Right is concerned, I may have no compassion left for you after this last move of yours but I have none with your men. Whe-"


    Nadir cut in, "I did this to make sure MY men wouldn''t go without supplies and face the same fate as the ones who were suffering here before we arrived. If you hadn''t threatened to cut off funds I wouldn''t have done that."


    Orison said, "You and your f***ing selective hearing. I''ve never once threatened to cut off supplies. I only threatened to cut off you and anyone else who wouldn''t listen to me. If you hadn''t threatened to imprison and have me killed secretly I would have tried to talk reason with you first. Everything I''ve done has been in response to you drawing clearer and deeper lines between us, Captain."


    Nadir stonily said, "Throw this word twisting snake in a cell."


    Orison stepped forward, stilling Claudius and Morrel from defending him and said, "Trading post commander, tell your men that what you do will have them crucified with you for treason if any of you survive." He turned around and offered his wrists behind his back.


    The men hesitated, looking at Nadir. "You have a count of 100 to explain to me how you''re going to stop Revivalists from killing or enslaving us, Orison."


    Orison dropped his hands and turned around. "Well, the first step you''ve read in the letter. The land is released back into Clan Liu''s custody but razing the post to the ground also would stop trade. The taxes collected go into the clan''s treasury and I''m certain that no matter how much they hate you, they wouldn''t be so stupid as to cut off an instant source of lucrative revenue.


    "Throw that in the face of not only restoring gold to their coffers they''ve been bleeding out for supplies but also having first pick of what rolls into the docks, as long as you don''t piss them off they won''t do anything outside of hurl an occasional insult at you. Not only that, Captain, but they know they need you to make the merchants feel safe enough to come. Even if malcontents decide to stir trouble, the other four clans aren''t going to sit idly by. In reality, they''ll hate this place a whole lot less when it''s theirs.


    "If I can leave by fourth bell, I''ll make it there before eighth. I''ll have a chance to address the whole New Fvaris council before end of day at nine. I don''t think I need to tell you how many more issues you won''t have to face if I can do that before the Liu Clan gets their people together and comes here."


    Nadir had his men stand down and said, "How can I trust you to do as you''ve said? No, let me rephrase. Your mother can stay as a guest with us to insure you''ll do as you''ve said."


    Orison smiled benignly. "You''d have to run really fast to make that happen, Captain."

 38 OEW

    About that time, Centurion Calix came up with a half dozen familiar faces and said, "Legate Cantrip, is the captain of this trade post obstructing you from your diplomatic duties? Aren''t we supposed to be getting ready so that we can stop the slant-er, the obsidian elves from getting too rough with the men that are staying here?"


    The look of defeat on Nadir''s face spoke volumes. He had been cut loose. With the downgrade of consulate to trade post an unstoppable fact, since Orison had officially declared the embassy as his residence, the captain''s position no longer carried the same authority. By the same loophole of being assigned to the post rather than to Orison that he had been using to defy the young patrician, he was demoted in importance along with it. Even Calix, who was only an acting captain of a legate, was technically his equal in rank.


    Orison let the smile slip from his face and said with a trace of genuine regret, "In spite of everything, until I leave I''ll still lend aid if your men have need. Dispose of the account books and hide the gold you got today. I have no knowledge or need to know what you managed to collect and who knows what logistics will decide to do... I''m not sorry for doing this but I am sorry it turned out this way. For what it''s worth, you''re a good captain. I wish I''d gotten to you first."


    Orison addressed the other men and the ones that had come to his ''rescue'' with Calix. "Captain Nadir may have some doubts about my intentions. Acting Captain Calix, how much loyalty should I expect from you and your men if I fail to keep the soldiers who stay here safe?"


    Calix crisply gave a salute and said, "Absolutely none, Legate."


    Orison turned to Captain Nadir and said, "There you have it, Captain. You don''t even need a hostage."


    Deflated but still proud, Nadir issued a casual salute near the edge of sarcastic and said, "Then don''t disappoint, Legate. Why are you still running your gums at me? Get your sh*t together and go."


    With the nastiness behind them, Orison focused on restoring his magic while the soldiers and staff got busy. Just a touch over an hour later, Orison had his second scroll and was starting to feel the strain on all levels. For the last hour before time to leave, much to everyone''s irritation and amusement, Orison took a catnap on the driver''s bench until the cart was loaded up.


    After sadly watching by the sidelines as Morrel popped 300 gold worth of scrolls, Orison turned to the secretary and said, "I''m leaving you in steward Morrel''s care. Make sure you let the soldiers know what they need to do to keep from getting holes poked in them when they reach New Fvaris. Failure is not an option, Madam Secretary, but rewards are."


    The woman squirmed under Orison''s intense stare. "I won''t disappoint, Legate Cantrip."


    Orison flashed her a saintly smile. "I know you won''t."


    With a personal conjuring of the horse, Orison was off ahead of them. Once outside the patrol perimeter, Orison let out a sharp whistle. Gan stepped out from behind a deceptively small looking hill and saddled up behind him. With a whisper of ancient elvish, they were off into a run.


    Orison sighed as they maintained the break-neck speed, prompting Gan to ask, "Feeling down about having to play the bad guy? Nadir might have meant well, all in all, but he deserved it."


    Orison laughed and said, "No, man. I''m just thinking about how I could have a screaming elven beauty clutching at me right now instead of you but I was afraid she''d faint or p*ss herself."


    Gan went silent for a minute then suddenly held Orison tighter and started screaming faintly at his ear in a choppy falsetto.


    "For the love of all that''s holy, stop. If a Fvaris patrol saw that there''s no telling what they''d do," Orison chuckled as he lightly rapped his knuckles on Gan''s forehead.


    Gan added sagely, "Care to guess how they''d react to a screaming elven ''beauty''?"


    Orison replied soberly, "Good point."


    As they came up to Droya and her company, Orison slowed down long enough to let them know everything was going according to plan before going full run again.


    "Do you think Morrel will be able to get Rithus over the fear of being on horseback? The one time I actually got him up here, walk mode was all I could handle. Even then I thought he was going to squeeze the stuffing out of me. I might be bigger but he''s stronger too." Orison asked.


    Gan grumbled, "If you''re that keen on finding a new running partner why not just ask Morrel?"


    Orison said, "Are you kidding? He''d probably find a way to turn it into some kind of miserable training. Don''t tell him I said that. He''s already unhinged about how the miasma let me skip the ''discipline instilling'' parts. Half the time I think he makes up self torture exercises to keep me from learning too fast."


    Gan said. "If he is, I think my old instructor would probably agree with him though. The longer it takes to learn, the longer it takes to lose it, he used to say."


    "Well, to keep you from making bitter beer faces about it, I''m not looking for a new running partner but there''s bound to be times when you''re doing other things. I need a backup choice." Orison said as he spotted a Fvaris Clan patrol.


    Commanding the horse into a walk, Orison rode slowly and waited for them to instruct.


    The lead of the patrol asked, "State your name and your business on this road."


    Orison said, "Though I may not be that recognizable after the incident, I''m Legate Orison Cantrip. I''m here to bring news to the council and meet my brother at the embassy grounds."


    Another of the patrolling guards asked, "What did you instruct was the best thing to grow in section C3?"


    Orison thought back to the grid and honestly didn''t remember after going over hundreds of sub-divided sections. "There are 144 main grid spaces further divided into quarters due to uneven areas. Most of the suggestions were done on site, not by the grid. Early C column was close to the soft curve. I gave a site suggestion but overall I thought it was best to leave that space free for recreation or potential future tourist accommodations if I could ever convince the Council how satisfying sucking foreigners dry of gold would be even if they hated them being here."


    The guard said, "It''s him, sir. He rarely says a word if it isn''t a part of three or more sentences."


    Orison glared at the guard and said, "Resentment."


    The guard smiled and said, "Now I know it''s him for sure. The only thing he likes more than drawing out his words is making other people eat theirs."


    The lead patrolman pulled out a white cloth square and pressed a metal block on it then handed it to Orison. "Lift it for any other patrol to see and you''ll make it to the gates without further interruption. I''d suggest removing your weapons and storing them away if you don''t want to get them confiscated. A revivalist clan is on gates today."


    Orison nodded to the lead patrolman then rode at a walk the rest of the way. Two more patrols and a bit of hassle at the gates and they were in with little trouble due to the earlier patrolman''s help and advice. With the good time they made, it was only a little after seventh bell when he made his request to speak with the council. Judging by the hour it took before he was summoned, he either wasn''t very welcomed at the moment or there was a lot going on. With the Northland group here, he desperately hoped it was the later.


    Orison was trying to get a read on the five elders but even the two speakers were neutral and poker faced. "Honored venerables, I feel privileged to stand before you alive and healthy today."


    Unable to help himself, the Speaker of the Right quipped, "Any day you stand before me alive is a privilege, leech."


    With a raised eyebrow, Orison asked, "Why a leech?"


    The Speaker sneered out, "Disgusting but useful."


    "That was dangerously close to a compliment, I think. Thank you, honored elder." Orison said.


    Elder Fvaris, now the younger sister, said, "This isn''t a good time for social niceties, though ever a part of these proceedings as they tend to be. We''ve read your missive only a little over an hour ago. What prompts this sudden decision and how does it benefit ALL of New Fvaris as it''s benefit to the Speaker of the Right''s clan is obvious."


    Orison feigned confusion as he said, "How is being able to collect taxes not something that benefits all of New Fvaris?"


    Elder Fvaris sighed and said, "These taxes are something only the Speaker of the Right''s clan will get, assuming they even want them."


    Orison pretended enlightenment. "Oh, so when the honored elder hurriedly clears off the structures and sends them packing, when they rebuild on a Progressive clan''s coastal property will only they then benefit? If so, why would he be so quick? Wouldn''t his clan be able to enjoy not only wealth but also first pick of new goods?"


    The Speaker of the Right smiled evilly while the Speaker of the Left frowned at Orison.


    "Which leaves me to ask again, what is the benefit for all of New Fvaris?" Elder Fvaris asked.


    Orison said thoughtfully, "The way benefits are structured, aside from having access to goods at all, never. What I don''t understand is why this council of five wise venerables can''t agree to a policy that would determine that no matter who hosts the trade dock, a standardized tax would belong to the council treasury while a smaller portion would belong to the one who sacrificed land space. Isn''t the benefit of having first pick of new goods and direct access to every arriving and departing merchant enough to want the trade post on their land?"


    Orison patiently tolerated a diatribe of tradition and the reasoning behind having the two party system with a neutral arbitrator.


    Orison waited until he was addressed to speak and ignored the question that granted it to say, "There is no influx of wealth, of any kind, on the entire island of Obsidian. People have need of those goods and they can look forward to export in another year to start earning back what they spent but merchant taxes are a way to earn some money back right now. There is no reason not to share that, equally, so there is no fighting and certain issues can have some relief and room for error... Right now, during the time you need it the most.


    "I can say with certainty that sweeping away the post, over taxing or generally making things overly inconvenient will bring import to a screeching halt. It doesn''t matter who you''re dealing with. The post is already there. Merchants come and go from it daily. If the soldiers aren''t threatened in any way, they''ll toe the line with the local land owner, no problem."


    Orison laid out empire standards for taxation and foreign cooperation with local authorities among other things the council would have already known if they had been curious at any point. All Orison was personally invested in was maintaining safety and peace for the embassy and trade post until he was gone. It galled him to no end that to do that he''d have to start the framework that would only show mutual prosperity to Centerland and Obsidian island in a year, becoming someone else''s merit. Not getting credit for an idea that didn''t even belong to him wasn''t a problem but working so hard for another patrician to get rich off of, pissed him off enough that even the council could tell.


    Elder Fvaris asked, "Why do you seem so reticent to tell us these things? Have we pressured you to reveal secrets you would have rather kept?"


    Orison said, "Not at all, honored venerable. I''m agitated that whatever slug of a patrician they send to sit in the embassy a little after this time next year is going to be showered in praise for all the hard a** work I''ve done and am going to be doing until I leave."


    "That''s assuming we believe you and follow your advice, legate. Which at this moment, doesn''t seem as likely as you assume." Elder Fvaris said blandly.


    Orison sighed, "Because it''s going to take days to draw up the step by step you can look at and know it will work because everything you know about trade and commerce will line up with it perfectly. Thus my complaint of hard work. Even I don''t consider long talks and bickering more than a waste of time."


    The Speaker of the Left said, "So what you''re actually asking is that we keep the status quo for the few days you need to do your ''hard work''?"


    Orison sighed and said, "Yes. Because as much as I''d like to skin my previous captain myself, I made a promise to do all I can to keep them safe."


    The Dowager stepped out of the shadows and said, "That won''t be necessary... Speaker of the Right, your land and the land of the Speaker of the Left framing New Fvaris are being exchanged. Neither of your clan''s main houses are even on Obsidian. Your ancestors have brokered this deal. It is done. Pact''s share of taxes are ten and the land holder five percent. The city of New Fvaris is also five for a total of twenty. The remaining five percent will be awarded to the post so as to keep Centerland from pushing a legate into our faces to incessantly bicker and whine.


    "Orison, it was a bold move on your behalf to push forward events that were to take place after you left. I hope you''re not going to waste MY time having come unprepared to answer my questions about the ruin in the bay. That will make things go in an unpleasant direction for you."


    Orison said, "No, I came prepared. I also have other things to share I hope you already know about. I distinctly hate being the bearer of bad news."

 39 OEW

    Irritated, Xia said, "We are in a private room. Every ward available to us is present. Please start speaking before I rip your head off and scry the information I want directly from it."


    Orison began. "There was an Abyss gate down there. It was accompanied by an artifact that changed me. This is the end result, the intermediate stage was much more gruesome... I closed down the portal by pulling off it''s power sources from the other side. One of those power sources was alive and the archmage found them. Long story short, I saved them inadvertently so they were on the positive side of ambivalent towards me. The archmage tried to fight them and got his memory scrambled. They left."


    Xia asked, "What happened to the artifact?"


    "The world erased it and I got cold chills saying that much," Orison said.


    "What is this other information you hoped I already knew?" Xia asked.


    Orison let out a slow breath and said, "I think there are probably more Abyss gates under the island, inside of it."


    Xia nodded. "Yes, the ancestors know. If you have knowledge of where others are, you need to tell me."


    "It''s only a guess but check this spot on the map." Orison silently prayed she wouldn''t ask more as he pointed at the place Nub assured should just be a watery sink hole.


    Xia said, "I won''t dig into your activities but this is your last chance to hand over items of cultural significance to my people, Orison. I couldn''t care less about a few coins or common gems but... The ancestors are looking for something. Things that have been lost to our people for a long time have been shaken loose by the tragedy that struck this island over a decade ago.


    "Our people value nothing more preciously than our past and events from thousands of years ago robbed us of that understanding. They will not help us seal away the dangers underneath us until we find what they are looking for. If you have something that will help us move the ancestors to act on our behalf, then give it to me. You are aware of the danger beneath us. It''s a problem for everyone, a problem that will continue to be one until they find the link to our past."


    Mixing truth of two events to create a convincing lie, Orison said, "There is one thing I managed to get that was kept from the archmage. It was a gift from the person I set free from the Abyss gate... This is the only thing I have that might match what you ask for. Even if you scoured my soul or tortured me to death I couldn''t help more. I have no knowledge or possess any more items like it."


    From out of his space he produced a scroll, the only writing in the burial chamber that was whole, pristine even. It wasn''t one of the famous ones of this world but it was something special. Orison only looked over it once but even though it was written with the ancient elvish pictographs, the sound combinations were nonsense. Something about it tickled his memory but it didn''t quite click.


    With a speed that made lie of her age, she snatched it from Orison''s hand. Her buddenly brightened eyes dimmed little by little as she read through the lines that were as indecipherable to her as they had been to him. Going back to the beginning she started pronouncing then phonetically as if she had forgotten Orison was in the room with her.


    The way she read it was slightly different. Small marks that meant nothing to Orison had her speaking the words slightly different than the way he had imagined them to sound. As she began reading it in a different direction, she said something he almost wished he hadn''t heard because it was one phrase of maybe a handful he could recognize from a language none in this world should know or even be able to be taught.


    Before he could register what he''d done, out of habit he muttered as he mulled over it, "The way is formless... No, ''The Formless Way''."


    In a frenzy, she dug her gnarled fingers into his hand, breaking a nail off into his palm as she dragged it over the scroll to point at where he understood. Orison wanted to pull his hand back but he was afraid of what the consequences would be if he hurt this woman for any reason. Frantically, he read through it trying to recognize any other part, worried that Xia would react poorly if he couldn''t help at all.


    Since the scroll''s writings weren''t in depth, looking to be little more than someone creating a piece of art using their calligraphy while trying to work around the world''s laws that would stop them from writing it, he took a stab in the dark. He didn''t know what was actually written there but she wouldn''t calm down enough for him to talk his way out of his slip of tongue until she heard something so he just recited the only piece he knew that contained it.


    In ancient elvish he intoned, "We look at it but do not see it; it is invisible. We listen to it but do not hear it; it is inaudible. We touch it but do not feel it; it is intangible. These three elude our inquiries, thus become one..." He finished with, "Knowing the primordial origin is the essence of the Way."


    She released his hand and after seeing what she had done, was mortified. In worried concern, she fished around her her pockets for a kerchief and a flask of clear fluid that smelled sharply. After dabbing the kerchief, she reached over and pushed Orison out of the way as she tenderly dabbed the spilled blood droplets off the scroll as carefully as she could. As she carefully tried to edge a droplet that was near the stylized bagua at the bottom, they touched.


    Unbeknownst to her, a mist of spiritual energy carrying a golden marble and a ring barely visible to Orison''s sensitive eyes crept over and into him. An intuitive terror gripped him but he wasn''t able to move due to the strong paralytic agent that was hidden underneath the nail the Dowager had broken off in his palm. If Orison wasn''t somewhat resistant to such things he was sure the muscles that controlled his autonomic functions would have stopped working under the heavy delivery of toxins.


    His magic and spiritual resistance was fighting a losing battle with the spiritual energy attempting to burrow the golden marble into his body as the ring forced itself onto his finger. With no other choice available, he exercised his will to move them into his space. With no resisting pressure in front of them, the marble and ring shot into the recesses of his space like a cannonball. The force of their wake was just enough to knock the paralyzed Orison off his feet. Turning around at the noise, Xia saw Orison looking up at her with accusing eyes.


    The dowager looked down at Orison with empty eyed grandmotherly kindness. "Oh, you precious thing. Granny didn''t mean to hurt you. An old woman has to have her protections from you rebellious youngsters after all. Let''s get you all fixed up and take you to the ancestors."


    She removed the fingernail and applied some powder to the wound. Whatever it was she had given him, it wasn''t the antidote, it was another poison.


    Orison mumbled around his numb face, "Worthless."


    With a kindly smile, she said, "What was that dear? What''s worthless?"


    "W-world...kill us all. You, m-me, ancestors."


    Chuckling indulgently, she asked, "And why would you say that?"


    Since he saw how the calligrapher''s trick worked, Orison had a good idea of how it was done. In ancient elvish, using the blood, dust and cold sweat in his palm, he shakily drew out MAN DAy RIm Now,


    "Read b-big p-part." Orison pushed though in mushy speech.


    Curious, she sounded it out in parts. Sensing nothing wrong, she said ''Mandarin'' and fell to the floor hugging her chest and gasping. Orison felt his heart squeeze tightly as well, a backlash from the sharing that he survived only because all his muscles were relaxed and the momentary hypertension caused by heart cramp only served to move his blood more quickly rather than rupturing something. Deep within himself, an entity that was slowly invading him in parts screamed in agony, shredding into a multitude of pieces. The world was unforgiving and would follow unwanted things back to the source from which they sprang. An instinct within himself let him know that he was quickly making reality''s sh*t list and if he didn''t stop, he''d suffer the same fate as the spirit now being absorbed by his space.


    Under the impetus of the increased blood pressure, he squeezed out, "Just one word''s worth of real meaning did that. W-what do you th-think w-would happen-" He pointed at the scroll laboriously while barely managing a casting of cure poison.


    Staggering to his feet while she was still clutching her chest trying to remain conscious, Orison looked down at Xia and said, "You''re one nasty b**** sometimes but better the Abyss Lord I know. I take it my little demonstration under duress has clarified everything for you?"


    The old woman forced a nod while her eyes, no longer empty but filled with the fear of death, begged him for help.


    Orison knelt down and worked some healing into her as he said, "All the innocent people of this island don''t deserve to be pulled under by greedy old monsters. I want you to know I''m doing this for them. If you were to fall here, I''m afraid your grandniece isn''t enough to hold it all together yet and as far as I know, this is the only stable governing body here worth a damn.


    "Find a way to give that scroll to your ancestors that keeps you and me out of it. If they want to kill themselves by figuring it out it''s something small figures like you and I should stay out of but hopefully it''s enough to move them. Are you recovered enough to use your own methods?"


    Xia nodded and popped a small bead into her mouth before crunching down on it. After a few stabilizing breaths she said, "I''d find some witty way to threaten you but what''s the point? Go about your business while I figure out which naughty lamb I don''t like enough to send this... thing to the ancestors."


    Orison made his slow, stately way out of the private room and down the hall leading out of the council building, trying desperately not to let his growing panic show on his face. He felt bloated to the point he was worried he was going to burst like a tick and every second made it worse. His inner space was so chaotic at the moment that he couldn''t look anywhere in it without seeing impossible geometries that made his consciousness hurt and mind spin.


    An elf directed him to his own personal quarters in a succinct conversation he could not properly recall only moments after having it. As he turned the corner, the familiar face of a young adult Northlander met eyes with him. The familiar face said his name which caused him to reflexively nod in agreement. Before he could say anything to stop the Northlander, Venito had picked him up into another world shattering bear hug.


    Pressure both within and without caused a small, body damaging sliver of his inner space to break free of it''s confines within Orison and slide past the weak spiritual barrier of Venito''s aura envelope. Under Orison''s strengthened spiritual sight, he watched the intruding polyp of space rupture. A forceful expulsion of excess energy ''structure poison'' shot into Venito''s spiritual space along with the slightly dimmer golden marble and fractured remains of the ring.


    He watched as the marble, under the last directive of the dead entity''s shreds clinging to it, settled to a point so low on Venito''s abdominal area Orison wouldn''t have followed it if he weren''t fearful something bad might happen to his brother. Simultaneously, the remains of the ring and the few small pieces of Orison''s own inner space that had been subconsciously claimed by Venito''s soul reenacted an implosion and subsequent extra-dimensional explosion that Orison was familiar with. The last remaining instinct laying within the dead shreds of spirit body, circulated the energy inside Venito in the pattern it was most familiar with, making small adjustments as it went along to fit it''s new physical vessel. Divested of purpose, the entity''s remains slowly drifted up towards Venito''s seat of spiritual consciousness where they''d be absorbed and processed over time.


    On the physical side of things, Venito''s chest gave two lurching thumps strong enough for Orison to feel them through his hug compressed rib cage. Less than a second later the circulating energy linked the marble, protean space and spiritual seat together. The sudden welling of power and vitality surging through Venito''s body caused him to turn beet red and made Orison aware of a part of his brother''s anatomy he was certain neither of them wanted him to be acquainted with.


    The incredibly spiritually insensitive Northlander, released Orison incrementally like a deflating blood pressure cuff before he quickly turned around in confusion. "Something came up. I mean, sh*t, I''ll be back later."


    Venito took off with an expression similar to when a person doesn''t know if they''re going to make it to a toilet in time, grim faced and with a sense of dire purpose. Orison wanted to stop him and explain what happened but he himself was in a different kind of serious need for alone time. And as far as Orison could currently tell, his brother was in no life threatening danger.


    Once behind closed doors, Orison sunk to the floor, running healing over an arrow shaft wide wound that went through the center of his chest, taking a small circular chunk of bone with it. Fortunately, the way it was made had sealed capillaries and did little harm to the integrity of the bone the sliver of inner space had passed through. The incident, as a whole, enlightened Orison to the consequences of what would happen should the space grow faster than what his spirit could contain. Spontaneous spherical matter annihilation may be a unique way to go but it didn''t appeal to the young mage.


    Taking a look around in his space that was settling back into old form, Orison noted that whether it was the entity''s spiritual essence, the spacial power of the ring or the golden marble, little of it had been of use to him directly. That was in comparison against the total amount, however. The ''little'' each one had contributed before accidentally shunting the lion''s share into his brother, had each contributed to a noticeable if not drastic change.


    His soul body was half again as dense and large, taking up a rough two-thirds of the growth potential his current body could contain. The sudden growth had left worrisome stress marks around it''s outer perimeter but as long as he didn''t experience more ''growth spurts'' any time soon there was no real danger. The rise in strength of will and magic potential such an increase represented meant that it wouldn''t be long before he could reliably hold journeyman spell models with some study and practice. Such a growth represented years, if not decades, worth of intensive dedication to the arts. It was no small wonder few could persevere to reach even this height much less strive for mastery.


    The growth of magic reserve and regeneration having doubled from it''s original baseline may seem impressive but it was a standard that only put him even at ''seventeen'' with the potential he had shown at ''ten''. With a stretch of educated guessing he''d place himself somewhere around a reserve magnitude of five and a channel magnitude of two. There were probably at least a handful of early twenty-somethings, forty for elves, in each college with comparable ability. There was a good possibility that there were slightly more than a handful total that have or at least had that same potential at seventeen.


    Orison''s physical capabilities hadn''t changed much at all. Individually they weren''t impressive but taken into total consideration he could be considered at the lower end of elite. In actual martial combat, however, two standard soldiers with good coordination could put him into dire straits if magic was taken out of the equation. Where he really shined in this area was the magnitude of his healing and stamina. Both of which were fairly close to the upper limits of natural possibility.


    He hoped he''d never have to find out for sure but Orison was confident he could bounce back from the average physical issues with only a quarter of the time. After the bay incident, Orison had opportunity to know that five hours of sleep could put him in good standing for the day without enchanted equipment. With as hectic as his life was, he didn''t think it would take long to discover if four hours would be sufficient or if he could run two full days on a standard sleep with little to no ill effect.


    The disintegrated bits out of the ring''s stone had dumped some pretty bizarre stuff into his space. After mixing, chopping and spitting out what it didn''t want, a small plane of calm, life supporting area existed within it. Upon a flattened mound of five colored soil resided a thick patch of grass not quite large enough for an average adult to lay on and a sapling tree a little shy of five feet tall. The small plane orbited around the eternium crystal formation and when Orison focused on it, he could see it taking in minute amounts of the dust and the tree was ''breathing'' in the light shed from the eternium crystal in some kind of parallel to photosynthesis.


    The most visually impressive of all changes to his space was the eternium crystal. It was no longer a black crystal formation with a bit of eternium inside. There was no black to be seen. The main ''finger'' was a little over a foot in height and a third as thick. Two supporting ones were attending it on either side, each a little over three inches long. The ring around the formation had a variety of crystals in various shape and size devoid of energy but quite a bit of powder that carried a good deal of potency. Only one of the large opal sheen crystals remained, swinging in counterpart to the small plane.

 40 OEW

    Settling a group of eight people into a group of apartments made for six was more of a chore than expected. The original layout for the Centerland portion of the embassy suits held one spacious room for one and a much smaller room actually designed to only be comfortable for one. Two rooms were designed for staff that frequently found themselves in cohabitation with others pretty much everywhere they went such as soldiers and servants.


    For the sake of preserving as much peace and harmony as possible under the slightly cramped conditions, an aid to the Speaker of the Left offered a storage space in their compound to hold the furnishings and various amenities that weren''t of any need, providing an ingenious folding cot that could easily be set up in any room but the cramped single that Orison selfishly claimed under the guise of needing privacy for his continued studies. He would have bit the bullet and offered it to his mom but the only two who could share the large bed in the much more luxurious room without raising eyebrows or causing misunderstandings with the obsidian elves expected to visit on a regular basis would be Droya and Yulian.


    With the brothers being a natural choice for roommates and Morrel being fairly short of patience and tolerance to people he had to share sleeping space with other than Rithus, that left Gan as the floater. To keep him from feeling too short changed, Orison dedicated the footlocker and half his wardrobe space for Gan''s personal effects and the office room would be Gan''s private space from ninth evening bell to seventh morning bell. Any important documents and records would be held in Orison''s or Droya''s bedroom desks depending on nature and space needed.


    At least that was the plan until Claudius and Corvinus got into some kind of forcefully subdued argument that had Claudius asking Gan to room with his brother and taking the floater position voluntarily. No one particularly minded but it left Droya and Orison somewhat worried if whatever was having them into it would become a bigger issue. Droya seemed to have an idea what was going on but had her own personal policies on getting involved in the private lives of anyone outside of Orison unless it became a necessity which left him holding the short stick.


    Wanting to put best foot forward on upholding the arrangements in place, Orison knocked on the office turned after-hours bedroom. Claudius opened the door and let Orison in before returning to sit on the cot leaving the office chair for the ''Little Boss'' which Gan had the two brothers now calling him as well. Heating up some water for tea using a newly improved novice spell he decided to also call ''Presto'', as the model had moved fairly far from Degree Shift, he sat in comfortable silence and waited for the cups to finish steeping.


    As Orison handed Claudius a cup, the older soldier took it upon himself to start. "I suppose you want to know what that was all about?"


    "Only if you want to talk it out. Mom and I aren''t really big on butting into your guys'' personal lives. I figure you and your brother will hash it out eventually. I''m just here to lend an ear if you want one." Orison said.


    Claudius sighed. "I really don''t want one but it''s more because I wish this thing that''s happened just didn''t."


    Orison took a sip and just nodded. He was content to just sit in silent support if the man didn''t want to say another word. Either way, he was intent on leaving after they finished their tea or the man had lost interest in his.


    Half a cup down, Claudius finally relaxed enough or realized he couldn''t relax and started talking. "About a week or so after Yulian was situated, the three of us went to visit her grandpa. I was planning to ask blessing and all of that. Well, it just so happened that there was a witch passing through nearby and Yulian''s cousin fetched her. She paid the witch a silver to do a small little blood spell the old lady pretty much made her living with as most of her simples were little more than folk remedies that did more for peace of mind than the body, if you ask me.


    "Well, the way it works is that the mother and the father both get their finger pricked and mixed in this bowl of squid ink and when she does her thing over it, the healthier the baby is the more ring shaped the blood in it is supposed to get. I don''t know how true that is but I do know why her spell earns her so much coin. It only works if the drop of blood is from the mother and the father. It didn''t work.


    "I''d be lying if I said I wasn''t disappointed but we always knew there was a chance. It put a little damp on the day but it didn''t really change my decision or anything. No, what did that was when my brother offered the witch another silver and had her do it again. It worked, a healthy little circle that used my brother''s blood."


    Orison said, "That''s a rough one."


    With a frustrated face, Claudius said, "You know, it''s not like I''m mad. Nothing the girl said was a lie. In a twisted kind of way, I''m even a little grateful to her. The first day after the consul fire my brother looked fine aside from some bruises and scrapes. I got burnt trying to find the legate''s aid and he had a beam fall on him but he got back up and dragged us out."


    Orison said, "Internal bleeding''s tricky. Sometimes it solves itself and sometimes it causes problems. In his case, it''s where he was bleeding from."


    Claudius said, "The pain my right side was in, it wasn''t even comparable to what I felt when they carried my brother back into the sick room because he''d collapsed. That night, Yulian came in all tears and concern for us. She gave me something to eat she said came from a little red flower. It tasted like sh*t but it made me feel good and she made me feel like I wasn''t some kind of deformed monster. That''s what planted all these funny ideas in my head to begin with, that night.


    "She told me she cared for me because I held her like a lover and not like I paid for it, because I smiled and had a kind word instead of leering at her or whatever. She liked my brother because he was friendly. He wasn''t interested in slipping her a coin but he''d chat with her, made her feel like a normal person.


    "From what I could gather, when I wasn''t busy trying not to hear it, he just kind of broke down after seeing Yulian and I do our thing. He thought, he KNEW, he was going to die. After she gave him the rest of that flower stuff, he pretty much gave her his last confession and she gave him a ''close your eyes and think of them'' kinda thing.


    "All that said and all of the heat of the moment intentions behind us, I just want her to be happy. I just want my brother and his baby to be happy. What it boils down to is that both of us have different ideas on what''s best. He wants to be responsible and I want to leave him free to chase the one he''s had his heart set on. Sometimes I get the idea that there''s something he isn''t telling me but I learned a long time ago that he only says what he wants and you can''t even beat another word out of him."


    Orison sighed. "Did the both of you talk with Yulian, ask her what she wants?"


    Claudius looked up at Orison a little irritated and said, "Of course we did. She''s more sappy than both of us combined. We both care for her in different ways and she cares for us too. She doesn''t want to be a problem. We all got something good going for us with you and your mom and none of us want to mess that up. I think that if me and my brother don''t sort this out then she''s just going to go at it alone."


    Orison mulled over it then said, "The way I see it, and treat it as so much hot air if you don''t agree, is that all three of you are over thinking this trying to be considerate and respectful. Both of you brothers should just tell her what you feel about her and what you''re actually offering then let her make her choice. Assure each other that you''ll respect whatever choice she makes and then deal with whatever hurt or disappointment comes after in the same way you''ve dealt with everything up til now. Because if things keep going this way, you''ll all just wear each other out and everyone''s going to be unhappy."


    What Orison knew of the two brothers that was the best he could think of. Claudius was hotblooded and a bit impulsive and Corvinus was a cool-headed, big picture kind of person. Out of all the differences between them they shared one thing in common, the way they liked to deal with problems. Simple, clean and no wasted effort is just how they wanted it. Rip the bandage and dive all in, no toe dipping.


    If it was anyone else in the world they wouldn''t be having this problem at all. Forcing themselves to walk on egg shells around each other and Yulian is what was causing this whole mess or it would have already been solved. Sure enough, as soon as he was done planting the idea, Claudius was halfway out the door.


    With the fire lit and nothing left to do but clean up the ashes after a bridge or two were burnt, Orison headed to his room to crack open the journal and get back to studying his spell models, something he''d not had time for in awhile. Before he''d even managed to close the door of his room, the main door of their apartment suit was knocked on. Seeing as he was the only one free, Orison sighed and headed to the door.


    Orison muttered under his breath, "Three soldiers, a steward, a maid and a general staff yet I''m the one answering the door."


    The person waiting on the other side made him genuinely glad it was him, however. Lyra was just as gloriously stunning as ever. The small amount of resistance he''d managed to build up when staying with her to avoid being pinned under those eyes filled with cold humor as if the whole world was just a dirty joke she found funny yet distasteful, was completely gone.


    "As refreshing as I find your way of ogling me, how long are you going to make me stand out here?" she said with a smirk.


    Orison unfroze, stood aside and welcomed her in. Closing the door behind her, she turned and gave Orison a once over. And as if she was the physical manifestation of karmic retribution, she pushed him against the wall with a hand to his chest and sniffed him.


    To finish off her intimidating assault, she grabbed his crotch and fondled it for a second before she said, "There''s no way in the Abyss that you''re a girl in disguise. I''ll admit you''re pretty enough but illusions and disguises only go so far."


    Orison, mentally blanked, squeaked, "What!?"


    Having finished her business with him, she stepped back and was looking around while she answered offhandedly, "Just a man-child looking for a reason for something that doesn''t even need one. As if a stray thought or a cool breeze isn''t enough of an excuse for boys...excuse me, men your age to pop one. Since he just HAD to have an actual reason, he offered that maybe you were a girl in disguise.


    "I thought if there was anything beyond a man''s natural inability to control the head that does most of the thinking for them, it would have been some smell stuck to you after brewing a potion or something. Looks like my first thought was right. So sad for him... Where''s your mom at? Oh, there you are, Droya. How have you..."


    Having spotted a much more interesting conversation partner she strode past him. Left in the aftermath of her unrestrained actions and damaging words, Orison stood there with dark lines down his forehead and a cold wind in his heart. He thought about explaining to her what really happened to Venito but if his brother wanted to send Lyra with a mission to grope and indirectly insult him then he could return the kind favor by letting her keep thinking that Venito was an unrestrained pervert. As far as Orison was concerned, it wasn''t a lie anyway.


    After a few minutes of sulking, concern won over irritation and Orison went to the Northland suit. After being greeted by two men on sentry that he''d never met before, one poked his head in to clear Orison and let him pass. As he waited for a blushing obsidian elf maid with a rumpled uniform hastily donned to show him where Venito''s room was, the young mage compared the two suits. He tried not to get a little heated that it had two extra bedrooms and good deal more space to pace around but failed.


    Orison glanced at the maid with spiritual vision opened to see a nestle of energy low down congregating around a small shred of barely ''alive'' remnant.


    Orison thought, "One last bid for survival, huh? Odds aren''t good, whoever and whatever you are." Walking past her, he whispered, "That seed''s going to take."


    She smiled widely and said in a low voice, "Truly? How do you know?"


    Orison hadn''t expected that response but let a little more ''soul'' shine through his eyes, leaving her wary but convinced.


    As soon as they stepped into the room, the maid said, "Your brother has assured me that the deed is done. Should I send my sister or would you like me to attend you the rest of this night?" the elf girl said.


    Venito looked at her from where he was sitting in a desk chair with nothing but unlaced pants and slightly yellowed undershirt on and said, "I''m not finished with you yet, sweet roll, but give us brothers a little privacy. I''ll make it up to you later."


    The girl giggled as she closed the door while leaving. "These elves sure are accommodating. It''s been killing weird sh*t and f***ing, the whole way here."


    Orison felt a little sick as he said, "That hasn''t been my experience but then again, Centerland is almost a curse word around here... It doesn''t bother you at all, the children thing?"


    Venito shrugged, "I keep track. Got them down in my book so maybe if I get all knotted up about it later, I can look for them. But Orison, these kids will be born into a whole clan. It''s a whole large family to look after them and it''s how they''ve done things forever. I mean, they prefer elves and some clans don''t participate directly but they''ve lost a lot of people. One of the things the Progressives are about is making sure blood doesn''t get too thick."


    Orison sighed and said, "Your life, your choices. That''s not why I''m here anyway. About the, uh, incident in the hallway-"


    Venito cut him off and while looking half guilty and half accusing said, "Nooo...Let''s just forget about it. There''s better things to talk about any way be-"


    Orison tersely said through gritted teeth, "It isn''t about a little moment of embarrassed confusion. It''s about the the foreign objects in your body you don''t know about."


    Looking slightly offended, Venito said, "I was checked before I left and I''ve been checked since I got here. I''m clean."


    Anger slipping his leash, Orison bellowed, "Not everything''s about your damn s*x life!" He took a deep breath and said, "Do you have a way to insure privacy from other means of spying?"


    Looking confused again, Venito said, "I do but I was told to only use it for emergencies. It''s not subtle."


    "Use it. It''s more for who might be monitoring me anyway. Besides, you''re in an embassy. Everyone expects diplomats to carry ways to keep conversations private." Orison said.


    Venito stuck his head out of his bedroom and said, "I''m going dark. So don''t panic like last time."


    A couple voices grunted acknowledgment as Venito pulled out a finger bone from his pack and broke it. A sphere of darkness expanded out over them and Orison switched to spirit vision. It only let him see his brother and some mess on the bed but it was better than nothing. Even the mask didn''t help him see any better so he put it back away.


    "Well, I hope it''s important. I only have one of those left." Venito said.


    Orison explained everything that had happened since he had gotten to Obsidian Island, skirting and explaining things vaguely when it came to things the laws didn''t want talked about. About the scroll that had started this whole mess, he just explained it as the source of what Venito now had with no further details. After explaining what little he knew about the spatial ring and the golden marble, he mentioned the entity''s remains that he hoped would shed more light into his brother''s situation.


    He ended his rant by giving Venito a ''proper brotherly hug'' and said, "Welcome to the special people''s club or whatever the Abyss you decide to call it... Oh, and you should think extra hard about spreading the love right now. Until you properly claim it, that energy leeks out of you every time you do."


    Orison walked away with a benign smile on his face. What he said wasn''t a lie but really didn''t think the amount, outside of what the last barely living, probably not even sentient, remnant piece took was worth bothering about. Curtailing his brother''s manwh*re ways was just sweet revenge. And right before he stepped back into the Centerland suit, a pouting elf woman stomping away let him know that it was already in effect.

 41 OEW

    Guiltily, the next day, Orison went to check on the embassy unit situated in the hanger bay style barracks behind the suite. He had nothing to worry about as the faces of the soldiers greeting him were filled with smiles and camaraderie. Confused, he knocked on the acting captain''s door which connected to a simple two room suite in the back of the barracks. Calix was disheveled and slightly out of breath when he opened the door as a second door connected outside slammed shut, cutting of a girlish giggle.


    Orison said blandly, "Captain Calix, it''s after eighth bell. I know official business doesn''t start til ninth but we''re not natives. It''s no big deal as yesterday was a moving day but I need you to take discipline serious. It''s all sweetness and unexpected perks right now but we are in the heart of darkness. If you don''t want to wake up with your throat slit one day, you''ll be wise to remember that.


    "I can see breakfast was brought to you this morning but meals will be taken in the embassy dining hall from now on. Here''s a copy of the schedule our secretary graciously drafted for us. As you can see, outside of the duties listed there is also a sixth to seventh morning bell assembly every first, third and fifth day. Wear your fitness clothes not your armor. Since you won''t be doing patrols you need to run. I''m not sending the lot of you home with pot bellies and love handles. Don''t worry, you''ll see me there too.


    "Half staff gets sixth and seventh day off in rotation. The ones that didn''t get it off that week, get second and fourth off instead. We have the beach from sixth to seventh morning bell every seventh day, Captain. I want to see a martial training drill happening there. You and your second in command can take turns leading it. And yes, you can choose your second... Where''s Specialist Cray?"


    Calix scratched his head and said, "He, uh, was invited elsewhere last night."


    Orison''s mood shifted from annoyed to angry. " Who went with him?"


    "Um, no one, Legate," Calix said guiltily.


    Orison smiled benignly, "Well, if he returns alive, let him know to report to me. If he doesn''t, then when we find where he died, you can kill yourself there to atone for failing him as his captain... Don''t worry too much. There''s only a forty percent chance a Revivalist lured him off to slit his throat."


    Turning around, Orison bellowed in as best a Nadir impression as he could, "No one goes anywhere outside the embassy grounds unless directed otherwise for the next two weeks. No one goes anywhere by themselves, EVER! If you are stumbling somewhere to take a p*ss because you''re too drunk to find a latrine, I want another soldier close enough if you drop your d*ck he can catch it before you wet your boots. AM I CLEAR!?"


    Old military habit kicked in and most gave a loud and crisp affirmative. In the back, one of the soldiers snickered instead. Orison didn''t know their face so he turned to Calix and whispered, "Whoever that was in the back that laughed at my joke instead of answering me, I want you to ask yourself ''what would Captain Nadir do?'' and I want you to do it."


    Calix stood there stunned for half a second, thought for a second more then walked up to that soldier and said, "Thank the Maker, men. We have a volunteer for latrine duty. Congratulate him for taking up the task for the next week so none of the rest of you have to."


    Everyone looked at the poor soldier, who was no longer laughing, with amusement and pity in their eyes as they sincerely wished him well. Afterwards, Orison called Calix into his office and calmly told the man about how dangerous their environment was. He also suggested that Calix spend a good deal of time going over how his past captains handled things if he wanted to have a chance to keep the position after Orison was gone. The young mage knew it might not matter but he wanted to be as hands off with this side of things as possible. Orison silently prayed that Calix would step up because he didn''t want to start missing Captain Nadir.


    Cray showed up at Orison''s office a quarter past nine. With little else better to do, after the archer was informed he would serve as Orison''s aid first to fifth day, the young mage had him join Morrel''s daily discipline training with them. After seeing Cray collapse into half sobbing gasps, he was inspired to ask Morrel to teach the set to Calix. In Orison''s mind, grueling drills that benefited the body and unwanted duties were better for maintaining order than lashes which did nothing but add injuries and grudges.


    For the next two days, Orison focused on getting his people adjusted to embassy living. During that time, he saw a fire of ambition light up in Calix''s eyes as the light in Claudius'' burned out. For good or ill, Yulian had made her choice and anyone could tell it wasn''t an easy one. To keep Claudius occupied, he had his future urban prefect keep him company during training and off duty hours where they quizzed each other on finer points of Centerland law.


    Droya took advantage of the elves being a bit warmer towards Northlanders to do some shopping and trading along with Lyra. Morrel and Rithus were occupied demonstrating non-corporal punishment and discipline with Calix. After a brief catch up session with the other Northlanders, in a surprising act of social cordiality, Gan was getting to know his roommate and Yulian better.


    Venito stopped by after a good night''s sleep complaining of headaches and flashes of memories that didn''t belong to him. After finally giving him the recipe for vital potion, Orison ran a little healing through Venito''s head and told him to take it easy for the day. On day two, he came to Orison looking like a child who had woke up to a surprise trip to a major amusement park.


    After being told a lot of things that made no sense, Orison just stopped him and started a round of brisk observation and experimentation. The largest and most important factor that Orison looked into was Venito''s space which was much larger than his own but showed little signs of growth potential. He was pretty sure that without the small amount of his own space acting like glue where it was most fractured, the whole thing would fall apart but he noticed the strange energy that Venito was generating and swapping with the space was starting to show minute signs of healing it. Observing it seemed to give Orison some insights into his own space but they were so vague he had to give up on trying to chase them down and Venito started showing signs of being edgy about the prolonged physical contact method that Orison was using to ''see'' more clearly.


    The craziest part was if some of Orison''s soul crystal matter was put into Venito''s space, it would draw moisture and turn into a type of spiritually enhanced water then concentrate the rest into a stone. If that water was put into his space, it would congregate to his mini plane before it was separated into regular water and charged crystal dust. After Venito pulled out a plant for Orison to look at, that turned into something fairly mundane as soon as it touched air, they decided to end their experiments.


    Their ''keys'' were so different from one another there was little one had that could help the other aside from some alchemy knowledge which was greatly beneficial to both. Venito would never be able to use outside help with the processing of living materials in his ''little world'' so he''d really have to buckle down and learn alchemy if he wanted to advance with the key he''d received. Some of the insights that Venito could offer didn''t help Orison''s alchemy skills so much, at that time, as his understanding of transmutation and the spell model of the same name he possessed that had stumped him for so long.


    By the fifth day Orison had moved himself and his people to the embassy, everything was running as smoothly as it had in the consulate for the most part. He still had to step in and help Calix out from time to time and put his acting captain back on the right track again but the man was slipping into the role more comfortably by the day. It was just in time to start receiving missives and occasional visitors again and now that he was within arms reach, the council had already summoned him twice to discuss matters with the majority on indefinite hold as he insisted on maintaining his consulate legate status until a properly trained and vetted legate arrived.


    With the arrival of the Northlanders'' boat to home, it was time for the two brothers to part ways again. Orison almost couldn''t believe the metamorphosis his brother had gone through in these five days. Venito was still the same mischievous lecher but it almost seemed more like a mask hiding the deeper, more tranquil version of himself springing into being. It irked Orison that, if anything, his brother seemed to be drawing more women''s eyes of late but it was perversely satisfying seeing Venito turn away from it due to his nervousness over Orison''s warning.


    In their parting words, Orison asked Venito to ''send a message for encouragement and honesty'' to the contract workers being sent to build the Cantrip estate, if the assassin could. He also slipped a couple magic scrolls to his brother for payment if someone in The Order''s grapevine could relay word of where Rithus'' daughter was. He knew it was a long shot but so was Droya''s inquiries through the merchant gossip chain. The way he figured, two ''hail Mary passes'' were better than one.


    Once the Northlanders left, Orison settled into a blissful routine that lasted all of a handful of days before he felt like something was wrong. Something was worrying him that he couldn''t quite put a finger on. Unable to endure the restlessness any longer, Orison turned to confide in Gan.


    "I don''t get it. Calix is doing a great job. Nothing ominous is coming up. My training with Morrel has hit an even, tolerable level since he''s always running somewhere. Magic study has hit a few road blocks but that''s not really in learning magic so much as it is filling in the holes of what makes it work. I can''t do anything about that til I have an actual tutor. I kind of feel like I''m going a little crazy, Gan." Orison said.


    Gan looked at Orison like the young mage had two heads. "Alright, Little Boss. Since you seem to be overlooking the obvious, let me just point it out... You''re bored. Either that or you aren''t taking certain matters in hand but I know you''re touchy about that. So let''s just go with bored."


    Orison was tempted to dismiss Gan''s viewpoint but for the sake of playing devil''s advocate with himself, he thought it through, "Maybe it''s due to the changes inside me from the miasma but even with the forced maturity, I run on the cold side when it comes to ''needs''. The thing with the secretary proved to me it''s there but I have to want something for there to be ''something''. That rules out the later half.


    "Bored? Not really. I genuinely like messing around with magic and Morrel''s physical and martial training brainwashing is finally taking hold in me. All the near death experiences hasn''t instilled any adrenaline junkie tendencies in me either. No, wait... That could be it. I know that danger and unpleasant surprises lurk around every corner and the calmness of the past few days has been eroding away my sense of caution. My instincts might be warning me against being complacent."


    He turned to Gan and said, "Let''s get Morrel and Rithus together. The four of us are going to west beach after swinging through the trade post. I don''t want to lose touch with matters down there and the Speaker of the Right is a bit salty after losing access to those enduring breath potion main ingredients we''ve been keeping a secret. Combine that with a need to get a hold of a certain ''special merchant'' of our acquaintance for the rest of our gold and it''s a three for one."


    Gan playfully accused, "What, little old me instead of Claudius?"


    Noting the touch of real concern hidden inside the question, Orison said in all seriousness, "The Tulius brothers and Yulian are mom''s people. It''s a soft line since all of you are my people but I want that line there. Mom''s picked up the subtle hints I''ve been dropping and taken Claudius'' depression distractions in hand. Besides, I''ve come to think of you as my right hand."


    Gan chuckled and messed up Orison''s hair. "Aww, Little Boss. Never knew you cared."


    Mildly irritated, Orison finger combed his hair back into place and said, "Don''t let it go to your head. It''s not like you have any real competition."


    Seeing that his thoughtless comment had hit a little harder than he meant it to, Orison added, "It''s the little things. Rithus is Morrel''s number one priority. I''m fairly certain that he''s Morrel''s real son but for whatever reason won''t actually ever say it. Rithus has an oddly child-like quality to him in spite of how much he''s capable of. He''s growing into himself but it''s like he''s just started to mature, if that makes sense.


    "You''re solid. I can can trust you to take care of yourself and I can trust that you''ll be there if I need you. Plus, you''ve seen some of the darker sides of my life and didn''t flinch or go running to my mom, worrying her over things she can''t help with and would probably have a hard time understanding. As much as I want to be open and honest with her, I don''t want my life to overshadow her own. Everyone deserves to be the main character of their own story."


    Gan draped an arm on his shoulder and leaned on him a little, looking into the morning sky. "Just trying my best to give back what you gave me first. You said you''re walking a longer road. Sounds good. I''ll see how long I can walk it with you. Who knows, maybe I''ll live long enough to regret it and wonder what my own road could have been. Maybe, just maybe, I''ll look back one day and think it was the best damn decision of my life... But I think that''s enough heart to heart. Daylight''s burning and it sounds like you got a whole day''s worth planned out."


    Once Morrel was tracked down and the shareable parts of Orison''s plan were laid out, the old wood elf didn''t seem thrilled. Rithus, who had been cooped up in the embassy the whole time, was almost tearful in his supporting enthusiasm, however. Perhaps in sympathy of the Marshlander''s plight, Morrel softened up. With all four on the same page, running it by Droya went without a hitch. She even looked a little relieved to have legate duties to attend since a few passing storms had slowed down her side goods trading.


    Orison had planned on checking in at the post first but as he got further away from New Fvaris, the further away from people he wanted to get. It started out subconsciously but it became more and more apparent to him that his intuition was warning him about something after all. And whatever it was, almost like a calling, it would not be something he wanted strangers to witness. The only thing he could get out of it was that it would be big and scary.


    At first he was going to hide it because that same instinct was wanting him to have Gan, Morrel and Rithus with him. The three, in the process of taking in some of Orison''s structured miasma had become somewhat tied to him in a way that his intuition found helpful in surviving whatever ordeal he was getting ready to face. That intuition, however, did not control him. And Orison wasn''t about to send these three who trusted and followed him, into whatever was coming blindly.


    While swinging a little north on the west beach to fetch the potion ingredients, Orison explained what he was feeling as best he could then said, "Gan knows more than you of what my future is. If I live, it is not just limited to this land, this world." He looked at Gan who nodded and continued, "This is the choice. If you stay today, you can walk the long road with me. If you leave you will not be able even if you want to. It will be dangerous but if we survive we will be more... I don''t know these things, I just feel them."


    Frowning, Morrel was about to speak but Rithus beat him to it. "My world has been so small. Ever since the day my daughter came back with the key you had made, it feels as if what was unlocked wasn''t my collar but something bigger. Something lies in front of you but it is not a road. Roads are not tall. They do not pierce the sky, do not part the stars. Or so says the shadow in my bones... I will walk with you, Orison. I will walk with you and I will climb. If that walk or that climb is only for today then I will live today free of all bindings and locks save for my debt of gratitude and reverence to you."


    Orison smiled and said, "Keep the reverence. I want to walk with family not servants."


    Rithus smiled and nodded. Whatever Morrel was going to say was painfully swallowed back down. Because it just seemed perfect, they went to the place that had once held Lily''s body, the only place Orison knew of where the laws of reality were weaker.


    While they waited. Morrel found a moment to speak with Orison alone. "Whatever is to come, if a sacrifice is to be made that can be borne by another, any that can be spared from Rithus, do so. I will bear them in his place."


    As the air around them took a rusty red glow, Orison said, "I''ll honor your will, Morrel. In return, whatever truths you''ve been hiding from him that he has a right to know, you''ll tell him once this is over."


    Morrel smiled bitterly. "Then let us hope the price I must pay is high enough to spare us both the pain of those truths... Don''t look at me like that. I may be a fool from time to time but I am no coward."

 42 OEW

    The rust colored light grew brighter as the last vestiges of light sunk below the horizon. A waning moon centered within a large and ominous red one that nearly took up a third of the sky. The inner cavern that was the final resting place of an unknown person shook and expanded into a ghostly realm of white grass and bleached, skeletal trees that showed the majestic yet terrifying lunar display.


    To say that Orison was baffled would be an understatement. Though it had only happened twice, he was certain that such an illusory phenomenon should only occur in the presence of a miasma spot. Still, it had happened and all any of them could do was wait to see what would come of it.


    From the distant illusory sky faint voices chanted in unison as a more distinct and clear voice intoned, "Devouring darkness, go back from whence you came in the name of $%#E\u0026^$ and \u0026%$*^. To their divine glory I abjure and banish thee. Return and plague us no further!"


    First it started as a light rain of invisible mist, then a drizzle. Orison and his companions looked at each other as signs of being ''rained on'' was evident but everyone was dry. Just as Orison thought that whatever was happening didn''t seem to warrant the overreaction his instinct had sent him into other than for secrecy, the intensity reached a hard pelting rain with occasional semi-solid chunks hitting with enough force to sting.


    Once again the voices chanted and the old man in charge intoned more exorcism lines. Above them, an unpleasant and dangerous scene unfurled as collections of random things from weapons and armor to coins and gems were mixed with gelatinous masses that squirmed and writhed. Soon, an eldritch horror version of whack-a-mole began with the four dashing and rolling out of the way as they ran and slipped, taking the random cut or bruise when they scrambled a little too slowly or ran into previously dropped detritus.


    The elderly voice beyond the fake sky reached a trembling crescendo. An angry ball of dark, azure streaked energy flattened and spread into a pulsing ring whose center bulged outwards towards them ominously. Of one mind, they all ran as far towards the outer edges of this ghostly realm as space allowed.


    As a vulgar display of expulsion from the ring took the shape of a thick coiling rope of chaos flashing impossible geometric patterns within, Orison screamed, "Don''t look directly at it!"


    To his right Gan screamed back, "Who wants to? I feel like a rat that fell into a latrine right now. Did the gods just sh*t on us!?"


    As he closed his eyes, Orison thought to himself, "Don''t listen to him. It''s just a giant cup of mad god soft serve, chaos flavored ice cream."


    Done with it''s task, the portal began to close and the old man''s voice grew fainter as it bellowed, "Hundreds of years worth of star well magic reserve, gone just like that! If you weren''t my sister''s only child, I''d flay your skin for book covers."


    The last thing Orison could hear before the voices became too faint was a woman begging for a chance to explain why she kept the growing ''energy source'' a secret.


    Morrel broke the silence. "Well, what now? That ''thing'' we have our backs turned to moved when I looked away."


    Orison muttered to himself, "How am I supposed to take that in? In just a moment, it''s going to lock on to me and try to squeeze itself in until I pop. Then it''s going to move to them."


    Using his spiritual sense, Orison tried to sort out what all was actually contained within while trying to ''listen'' to Beta''s intuition delivered advice.


    As the first tendrils of fuzzy edged, super condensed miasma groped towards him, trying not to completely freak out, Orison said, "Try very hard to think about the perfect you, Morrel. That and nothing else the whole time. Out of all of us, you have the clearest picture of who you were, are and always wanted to be.


    "Rithus, my intuition is telling me that you should trust yours. The ''shadow in your bones'' sounds eerie and scary but I have no idea how to guide you... Gan, best moments of your life, replay them in your mind... I don''t care if I''m screaming, laughing or saying things you don''t understand. Focus on yourselves and don''t interfere with each other. If someone looks like they are in trouble, trying to help them will only make it worse... It''s going to be fiiiii ahhhHHHH!"


    For an eternal microsecond, Orison became a white nothing. Then it was over. The four of them were in the cave, slumped in random positions like they were rag dolls thrown into a closet. They just laid there reeling and recovering from an event they had no way to describe. Most of it, they couldn''t even recall.


    Having difficulty pulling in his spiritual sight well enough to see normally, Orison asked, "Is everyone alright? To my other vision everyone looks fine but I can''t see well yet."


    Gan asked, "Does anyone else feel like they were ripped apart and put back together again?"


    Morrel grunted an affirmative and Rithus slowly nodded as Orison said, "I think that might be an understatement."


    Orison''s intuition was telling him that their gains had been tremendous but looking within and without, all he could sense was that all of them were ''more'', though the way Morrel was ''more'' wasn''t quite in tune with everyone else. For himself, he couldn''t sense much new growth but that was unsurprising considering that if he had ''grown'' much more it would have killed him. There were several new mysterious ''feelings'' about things in his space but all that would take time to explore.


    So would the large collection of less mystical items in his space but, if anything, he''d be more stingy with them because everything down to coins had a trace of the sensation that his mask had. That wasn''t to say that they were all boundary items but Orison was intuitively aware that they had ''staying power''. It might be short or a long time away but one day he''d leave this place and those items would mean a great deal more then than they did now.


    While Orison was taking stock of his ''loot'', Rithus yelped out a worried warning for Gan not to leave this inner cave. "It is not safe for us to leave here. The world will not accept us as we are yet. The shadow in my bones is covering the seed of who I might be and soon I''ll be safe but you do not have this, Gan."


    Gan put on a worried expression and said, "Then how long will I be stuck here?"


    Morrel added what he knew. "I carry something with me that I have been communing with for the last two days. It will suppress the parts of you that the world will not accept but it will also make you much the same as you were before... Orison, you will need this as well."


    Orison looked at Morrel sharply and said, "That''s what I felt was off. Morrel, what did you actually focus on when the miasma came to you?"


    The elf answered, "I appreciate the meaning behind your advice when this began but what you wanted for me was not what was important to me. It took no more than a moment''s thought to realize that what the three of you would do, if it succeeded, would bring you into disharmony with the world. The world is more than a collection of laws, Orison. It has a will of it''s own as well and that will desires its own growth. This is common understanding to those of the Emerald Vale.


    "I appreciate that you kept to your intent and honored our will as more important. Because of this, I was able to hold the world''s retribution away and was given the means to allow you all to safely move within it. If you accept it, your outer self will be brought into alignment with what the world allows, with no thought or effort on your own behalf."


    Orison stumbled over to Morrel and placed a hand on the elf''s chest to see Morrel''s ''inner world'' more clearly. There was a moment of resistance from the elf''s spirit before it relented and allowed the blunt, and in retrospect, rude intrusion. Orison ''saw'' a lush and verdant space filled with plant and animal life. Through it, Orison could understand a bit of the world''s laws and will directly but his real purpose wasn''t this.


    Within the living ark that was Morrel''s chosen conduit there was an immaculately preserved biosphere and beyond the center there were other, more rarefied, environments with their own host of sparse life. Within each environment there was one or more special plants that shimmered and hummed, attuning this inner ark with the outer world. Through this process, constant minute changes took place to keep it aligned.


    Orison looked at the elf sadly and said, "So while we forged a key, you created a collar for yourselves to buy our freedom?"


    In a rare paternal smile he usually only reserved for Rithus, Morrel said, "No, Orison. I''ve given myself a purpose... One day the will of the world will raise beyond its vessel and I will be called to the west, along with all other creatures who will not belong to the next age of this world. Unlike Gan''s budding spirit of exploration, my little tadpole''s spirit of calm contemplation or your spirit''s hunger to unravel ever greater mysteries, I have much humbler desires... What I posses is still a key. It''s just one that requires patience and perseverance to wait for it''s door to present itself."


    Gan broke the somber mood. "It''s not like we''re parting ways as soon as we step out of here... Little Boss, it might have slipped your notice but we''ve been in here for a while. For the life of me, I can''t figure out how we haven''t messed ourselves or woke up dying of thirst."


    With that sudden realization, Orison asked Morrel, "Do you know how long it''s been?"


    The elf nodded and said, "Nearly a week. I came out of trance only long enough to start attuning two days ago. There was a lot to take in and I was the only one who had help outside of what Orison was providing. I sense that Droya is well but worried."


    Orison said, "Then we should probably get attuned, or whatever, and get back."


    Morrel summoned out what looked like a small stone bowl of slightly luminescent aloe gel, applying as he spoke. "This will seal away the parts of you that threaten the laws. In return for this compromise, what exists within you will no longer be subject to those laws as well. While you are on this world, what you can express out into it will be limited to it''s allowed boundaries and the exchanges between yourself and the world will follow it''s laws. As long as you follow that covenant, the laws of this world will not be exercised against you to fit its patterns or work to remove you.


    "You will be recognized as a new life within it which means that any past transgressions will be absolved. In place of the warnings that you may have received before when attempting to express the forbidden, you will simply find yourself unable to. Forcing yourself to overcome that resistance will break the covenant and the world''s retribution will be swift and final."


    Once the elf was done, he gestured for Orison and Gan to step out and give Rithus and himself a private moment. As interested as Orison was in returning to let Droya know they were alright, he felt that what Morrel was about to do was hard for the elf and waiting for the return trip back home to be over might cause Morrel to lose his resolve.


    While they waited outside, Gan asked, "Rithus told me that you put the other dead thing in there... Did you?"


    Orison said, "Uh, yeah. Why?"


    "Because it''s not in there anymore," Gan said and shuddered.


    The ''father and son'' talk didn''t last long but whatever had been revealed during it left Rithus silent and introspective on the way back. Orison was glad to see that nothing had changed in the way they treated each other but it was obvious that ''the big reveal'' wasn''t something easily processed. To take the focus off of the private moment between the two and whatever secret it held, and to satisfy Orison burning curiosity towards it, the young mage proposed a round of ''show and tell''.


    For Orison, initially at least, it seemed nothing had changed aside from the feeling of being more and the increase to his spiritual sensitivity that was as much of an annoyance as helpful since he had to repress it to see properly. It wasn''t until he removed a small soul crystal and saw the majority of it''s essence evaporate into the air, leaving behind a fingernail sized piece of eternium crystal, that he realized just how ''more'' everything in himself had gotten.


    As soon as Rithus saw the piece of eternium crystal, the look he shot Orison reminded the young mage of a child seeing a stranger with candy they wanted. Seeing no harm in it, Orison handed it over to Rithus and the Marshlander immediately placed it into a satchel that Orison hadn''t noticed before and couldn''t detect after. When asked about it, Rithus just called it a ''craft bag'' and shrugged to any further inquiry. The only other information that Rithus could say about his new condition or anything else he may possess was that ''it'' was hiding within the shadows in his bones.


    Gan was even more perplexed about his changes. After a heavy round of trials, it was an accident that revealed a small edge of his mysterious changes. He summoned a map or at least he saw one. It was apparently very detailed but not only was he the only one who could see it, Orison couldn''t sense any changes within or outside of Gan. The young mage had a sneaking suspicion that most of what the two had earned from the ordeal was locked away for the moment and only a long time spent in personal exploration would allow them to discover what else they were capable of in this world.


    To work out what kind of physical limitations they now had, and to get back faster, Orison suggested a long distance run. It became obvious that their old paces weren''t even enough to make them breath heavy. When they reached about half of their maximum speed, which Orison found to be fairly even, all of them started to lose stamina. All of them except for Morrel. Apparently, the world was biased towards people who toed it''s line. As New Fvaris came into view, Orison tested out other physical limits to discover that the world''s limits were stacked a bit unfairly against them on an individual ideal but in a balanced overall, it could barely be considered fair... if you didn''t count Morrel.


    As they closed in on the city entrance, Orison thought, "Just great. My brother is the real main character and now Morrel is the secret boss."

 43 OEW

    \tThe four''s arrival caused a minor stir as Droya had been running the Centerland soldiers ragged looking for signs of them. As the days had dragged on, the search started including the possibility that they were dead despite Droya''s assurance that Orison was alive at least. The special pearl she had almost stopped working, however.


    \tOddly, Calix seemed rather ambivalent towards Orison''s survival but Orison tried not to take it personal. Droya was understandably beside herself with nearly hysterical relief and Claudius looked relieved as well, though there was a hint of guilt mixed in with it. A certain point clicked in his mind and Orison read between subtle lines of body language that Orison and party''s disappearance had catalyzed some changes in Droya''s and Claudius'' relationship. If Droya''s acceptance of Claudius into her personal space was any indicator, it was a fairly substantial change.


    \tOrison wasn''t the only one who was missed. Gan received a warm and relieved welcome from Yulian and Corvinus that suggested the scout''s social efforts had been reciprocated. Elder Fvaris'' lingering formal well wishing to Morrel after a brief one to Orison also spoke a subtle tale but no one present was the least bit interested in the private relations between the Cantrip House''s steward and a council member.


    \tBeing that their disappearance had become something high profile, the council was owed an explanation. To avoid a direct inquiry, Orison managed to get a moment alone with the Speaker of the Right to hand off the packaged materials in need of replanting as soon as possible and asked him to make excuse as to avoid alerting the Speaker of the Left''s attention. Orison explained that a storm kicked up, forcing them into a bad situation because they were a bit further out to sea than was safe due to being afraid of getting caught essentially stealing from a Progressive clan''s land.


    \tThe Revivalist elder may not have cared for Orison much but he did want to keep the resource acquisition a secret so he reluctantly agreed. He offered a story about how Orison and party were on an errand of a personal nature for the speaker where a misunderstanding occurred. He wasn''t willing to vouch for the whereabouts and activities of Orison during that time but he could provide evidence in the form of a couple of reports he had received of Orison doing good deeds off the beaten path in violation of agreements but to the betterment of the Obsidian Islanders. Since under normal circumstances, the only one who''d usually blow their top over such a good-natured flaunting of diplomatic agreement was the one to offer it as excuse, no one questioned further but doubt could be seen lingering in Elder Fvaris'' eyes.


    \tTo smooth things over the rest of the way, Orison gave the recipe for a few skin care products to the Speaker of the Left and asked for a private word with Elder Fvaris after the meeting. "I don''t want to waste any more time than the inconvenience of my disappearance has caused everyone so allow me to say one more thing. Tell Granny Xia that I had to face the consequences of a certain acquisition and there should be no more."


    \tThe Fvaris elder gave a weak smile laced with misery and said, "I can''t begin to express how much of a joy it will be to relay your message... Perhaps you could relay a message for me. If there is nothing urgent to keep him from doing so, I''d appreciate Steward Morrel''s assistance with a personal matter. Say, around tenth evening bell?"


    \t"I can do that, Venerable," Orison said, trying to maintain an oblivious demeanor.


    \tSomewhat embarrassed, Elder Fvaris said, "If, uh, if Morrel''s attempts to fulfill certain duties continues to produce no results, are you capable of doing so?... I don''t have a great deal of practice in relaying such delicate matters... To be blunt, I know that you are supposed to be only eleven but even before your forced maturity you seemed to be rather ''wise'' for your age. Many believe rumors I''d prefer not to repeat. Instead of prying into your personal secrets, I''ll ask directly.


    \t"I and another woman of my clan were tasked with making stronger connections to yours. We''d obviously prefer to do so through Morrel, as he is an elf that understands the traditions, but neither of us has quickened and Highlanders are supposed to bear a strong connection to an old, shared heritage... Are you ''capable''?"


    \tCompletely blindsided, Orison said, "A direct question with a deceptively easy answer. Morrel still has, ahem, opportunities to prove himself, yes?"


    \tThe elder nodded, attempting to hide her own discomfort over the topic, and said, "And we''ll do what we can to ensure those ''attempts'' produce results. If they do not, however, then we need to look towards the only other acceptable alternative. Due to the, well, nature of things, You would need enough time to satisfy an honest attempt. Let''s say three weeks... That gives your steward one more before, by necessity, we look towards you."


    \tWith a series of awkwardly exchanged formal parting statements, Orison left the council building with restrained pace. Upon returning to the embassy suite, Orison called a ''family meeting''.


    \tAfter he explained the sucker punch conversation he had with the Fvaris elder to Droya and Morrel, Orison said, "I''m not going to fly off the handle about being kept in the dark about this because I can see the emotional and FLAWED logical reasons. What I want to know now is why. Why did the two of you, and I know it had to be both, decide to do this?"


    \tA long, drawn out explanation ended up boiling down to two key points. For both Droya and Morrel it was about safety. For Morrel alone, it was also about honoring an old tradition. For the clans, it was to ease the disagreement on what the consulate''s, at the time of the Cantrip family''s arrival, status actually was. From the perspective of the Revivalist clans, the consulate was a besieged invader''s camp the obsidian elves were in negotiation with. The Progressives saw it for what it was meant to be and the Pact clans were looking to exploit any advantage it could to further survival and prosperity.


    \tOrison digested all of that and said, "Well, we are not in the same position we were before. I have plenty of leverage to push against if there is need. Morrel, I get that there is this elvish tradition of paying one''s ransom with offspring if the victorious party requests it but we aren''t prisoners of war. All I want to know is if you want to. Just so I''m not misunderstood, I''m not asking if you are willing. I''m asking if you actually desire to continue. I don''t need to know the reasons, just your will."


    \tMorrel turned to Droya and said, "The words I would share with your son would be easier shared between the two of us. It isn''t that you cannot hear them. It is merely that some conversations are less difficult when not had in the presence of a mother or a friend not of the same gender."


    \tDroya playfully acted offended and said as she walked out, "I see how it is. Enjoy your lecherous men-talk then. This simple woman will find some knitting or some such to keep my little head occupied."


    \tNot one to let arrows fly without returning fire, even harmless ones, Orison said, "Perhaps Claudius could help you untangle some string, mom. There seems to be a lot of red ones knotting around here recently."


    \tThe look of speechless shock and offense on Droya''s face no longer looked feigned as she stormed away. Perplexed, Orison turned to Morrel with the filed away notion of discovering what misunderstanding he had just caused.


    \tIt didn''t take long because Morrel filled him in as the elf expanded a magic zone that smelled of lush plants. "Droya didn''t understand your reference to archaic obsidian elf expressions. She may have missed ''the red string of fate between lovers'' but she fabricated one of her own from a common lewd insult given to men who have a preference for Bastet women."


    \tSeeing that Orison was still confused, Morrel further explained, "Red knots, my innocent pupil... Men who take interest in Bastet women are referred to in less polite circles as, er, ''cat'' hounds."


    \tOrison felt a little sick at the implication of what his mother had thought he meant. "Of course I wouldn''t- I''d never... I just wanted to tease her a little to let her know in a round about way that I support her happiness, is all."


    \tMorrel nodded and said, "I''ve seen first hand and need no explanation. When we are done talking, I''ll find a tactful way to let her know your real meaning... But stow that away for now. I need to speak about issues that unfortunately involve you in affairs I don''t think you are ready, or barring that, willing to deal with.


    \t"Up til now you''ve been able to avoid certain attention due to most placing your emotional age as too young. Once you open that door of possibility you''re going to be dealing with more than most grown men would find pleasant. How you decide to pursue your own affairs is beyond what I care to be involved in. A certain secretary is far and wide aware but has kept her silence on the issue. I will say that comforting a rapacious woman who calls out someone else''s name in poignant moments wasn''t an enjoyable experience but being requested to spank them over imagined misdeeds was quite novel."


    \tOrison, who was already mortified over Droya''s misunderstanding, had been heaped with embarrassment over his relatively innocent role play being not only known by another but having them fill in as a replacement to continue it. Wanting to finish this conversation so he could recover equilibrium alone, Orison motioned for the ''not so'' old elf to finish.


    \tMorrel sighed. "For our private lives to overlap in such a way is uncomfortable for me as well... All else aside, I may have been somewhat unwilling to indulge the Fvaris clan in the beginning and used some wood elf secrets to keep such dalliances unfruitful but I have grown pity and fondness for the girl known as Ruolan. She is the personal attendant of the current Fvaris elder.


    \t"That leads me to a matter I need your aid in. There is a second part to the tradition they are using. It hasn''t been exercised in this current generation to my knowledge but if they want to use one they cannot deny the other... As such things happen, men are wont to develop feelings or at least possessiveness over their children and the women who bear them. If a man can successfully steal away back to their clan with the woman who bears their ''ransom'' and that clan allows it, then she will be considered a ''trophy'' wife. When a child is born of such a union, it and any further children who are male will be considered to belong to the man''s clan but female children must be returned to the woman''s clan to avoid feud.


    \t"What I want to know is if I steal away with Ruolan, will you allow us to claim you as our clan and take the responsibility of insuring that the tradition is honored if they pressure you. I am not yet ready to part with Rithus and even if he was willing to follow me to the Vale, I know nothing of my mother clan or if I would be welcomed with such a family as I have and further desire to create. So that I can be sure you understand what I ask, will you allow us to take your name and be a part of your family in an official manor so that I can exorcise ancient elvish tribal law?"


    \tThe young mage rubbed his forehead attempting to absorb the load just dropped on his head. "You have always been a careful and shrewd person, Morrel. If you''ve got it all planned out and know what you''re doing then I''ll trust you on it... I''ve thought of you and Rithus as a part of the family since the beginning anyway. It just never occurred to me that you''d want to make it ''official''. So what, I''m adopting you?"


    \tMorrel chuckled. "From a Highlander perspective you could see it that way. From the Vale''s stand point, it suggests that you value me enough as a subordinate to allow me the privilege of ''wearing'' your clan''s name beside my own. And so you don''t make the mistake of confusing it when it will matter, by doing this you will become a ''clan'' in truth. Cantrip will no longer be a family surname in the eyes of elves."


    \tOrison frowned and said, "It sounds like thin sophistry. Are you sure it''s strong enough to hold up?"


    \tMorrel said, "Remember when I told you about the lost tribe of half elves? It is believed by my people that the Highlanders are their descendants. Because of this, there are some clans dotted among the Highlander families. If we were dealing with a Summerland Domain clan then no but the obsidian elves have always honored the old traditions when it involves another clan as long as that clan currently possesses elven members."


    \tOrison said, "You place a great deal of importance on using the word clan over family. What are the important differences that I should be aware of?"


    \tMorrel said, "In this case, the only difference that is of importance lay in the fact that clans may have more than one family within them. In the eyes of elves, that means with time, another family may rise to power and replace the current ruling family of the clan. Even if they do, however, they must honor all previously made agreements with other clans."


    \tOrison smiled and said, "Well, I doubt I have to worry about a coup to usurp my Centerland title since they don''t play by those rules. I''ll have hard enough... Morrel, when this happens, is it possible for our ''clan'' to seek a place in the Vale? I''m not saying I want to or even that we should but it could be an unexpected bargaining chip."


    \tMorrel blinked numbly then said, "I-Yes, in theory. You would need a wood elf matriarch and she would have the final say in all affairs outside of the clan."


    \tOrison said, "I''m banking a lot on future ifs but when you talk to mom, bring up that I''d like us to purchase and free a wood elf woman. If she asks why, for now just say that you''ve inspired a curiosity toward Vale cuisine, minus cannibalism obviously. Since she seems to have a hard nose about having young women in my employ for some reason, let''s shoot for old enough to be a matriarch within a year and young enough to travel. I already have a major misunderstanding between us. Let''s get that solved before I go adding more."


    \tMorrel added, "Age is a factor for a matriarch but so is talent."


    \tOrison said, "I figured there would be a snag but that''s not as big of one as it seems. Old enough to be a matriarch within a year, young enough to travel, let me worry about the rest. It''s just insurance but as long as she proves trustworthy, Morrel, I won''t treat her wrongly. I hope I''ve inspired that much trust."


    \tMorrel said, "On the younger side would run around the minimum range of 500. Prepare to scrape the lint from your pocket... I wouldn''t think I''d need to say it but becoming a clan needs to be done soon and stay a secret issue until after we have left."


    \tOrison nodded and said, "Consider it done when you you draft the document, sacrifice the animal or whatever it is we need to do."


    \tMorrel laughed and informed, "The old way was exchanging a cup of fresh blood and a bowl of enemy stew. We can just settle for signed ''adoption'' papers, for now."


    \tOrison said thoughtfully, "There''s a mean rabbit mom bought a few days back that''s bit her and Rithus both. A bowl of enemy rabbit stew sounds pretty good."


    \tMorrel sighed and then chuckled. "It wouldn''t be the first time someone played loose with the old ways, I''m sure."


    \tIt didn''t take long after their private discussion to get the ''adoption'' matters complete. And after an awkward apology from both mother and son which neither enlightened the onlookers about the reason for, the new clan settled down to a rabbit stew dinner with a copiously wine diluted blood toast.

 44 OEW

    \tThe following week brought some pleasant surprises and drastic changes to the clan that resided within the Centerland suite. By consensus, it was decided that in anticipation of poor traveling conditions if they waited for the whole duty term to elapse, all but Orison, Morrel and Gan would make their way to the Cantrip estates ahead of time. In anticipation of need, Orison spent every free moment available making scrolls. Through a parcel delivery from the trading post, Orison finally received his additional cut of the liquidated profit from the grave digging expedition.


    \tIn a turn of better than anticipated sales, ten Centerland bank notes worth 1,000 apiece laid in the box. Aside from the one he cashed out to split with Gan and Morrel, he handed the other nine over to his mother. Barring an absolute catastrophe, it would be enough to enact the first part of the mother and son''s plans. As a back up for if the contractors needed extra encouragement to be honest and hardworking, Orison included some fireballs in his scroll stack along with a golem scroll he could barely manage if they need a little extra help finishing an important structure in a timely manner.


    \tHearing that they would be leaving soon, Rithus had Gan and Morrel escort him out to Black Glass Field. Once the natives who owned the obsidian mine saw that the crazy Marshlander was only collecting scoops of sand into a relatively small satchel, they didn''t even bother to haggle or heckle. With such a large amount of glass sand and pumice laying around no one knew or cared how much he could fit in his little bag after getting a couple silver from him. The depression found the next day where the Marshlander had been was attributed to sinkage.


    \tTwo days before departure, Yulian''s cousin had managed to track down and invite the old witch with the paternity spell to visit New Fvaris. It was an eventful day for the soldiers of the barracks as Orison had paid the old woman five gold and a temporary spot on his staff with a steady income to provide her services to any woman who believed themselves to be carrying a Centerland soldier''s child. After having tested the veracity of her claims towards the spell and over two hundred for the model with notes to learn at a later date, he set her and all the baby mommas loose to finger point.


    \tThe men had grown accustomed to the warm reception they had received but after the women stopped coming around once having acquired what they wanted, a few soldiers had gotten bold enough to start approaching others. Unfortunately, those approaches weren''t as warmly received. Though no one stepped forward to lay claim there were a few rumors of Progressive men having been beaten and even a damning rumor of a Progressive woman being raped.


    \tAt that time, Orison had his hands full with preparations for his family. To curtail the soldier''s activities, he staged this event using a bit of Centerland law about the responsibilities of a soldier to their children. Ten percent of a soldier''s wages could be claimed for each child, up to a maximum of fifty percent, until the child''s majority of sixteen by that law. Since Orison couldn''t do anything to the soldiers directly when it was in their rights to pursue whatever local entertainment was available when not on duty, he hit their wallet instead. The one to be hit the hardest was his acting captain, Calix. In less than a month, the man had managed to sire four children.


    \tDespite how deeply the surprise paternity testing cut the soldiers, only two were overly angry about it. Orison had to remind himself that most of the soldiers were lifers that looked forward to nothing better than a ''soldier''s wedding'' at one point or another to begin with. The Progressive families that had privately sponsored this unofficial fresh blood drive were overjoyed at the unexpected financial support. One of them even offered to sponsor homes with a small bit of land for couples that desired having a go at marriage as long as the soldiers involved swore to offer their swords to clan''s defense upon leaving service.


    \tOrison knew that once the shock and novelty of fatherhood wore off there would be more problems on the horizon but he had bought himself some time on that front. The ones responsible for the physical altercations weren''t difficult to find after ranks were no longer closed up as soldiers now found themselves with bigger concerns than hiding a buddy''s misdeeds. Such concerns Calix proved to be more than capable of handling himself. The **** rumor was a different story, however.


    \tOnce Calix had done everything he could on his end, Orison took over the investigation. While it turned out to be Revivalist malcontent ''flash'', there was some substance behind it. It took some string pulling with some help from the Speaker of the Left but he did manage to track down a woman who had been abused. Some coaxing and compassionate assistance from Droya managed to open the woman enough to get her story. With what unofficial testimony she provided there were only two soldiers that fit her description based on a few telling signs she could give.


    \tFor whatever small blessings it was worth, she wasn''t pregnant but she had ''scratched'' her assailant''s left shoulder. After a fair call for all soldiers to bear arms literally, Orison found three so marked and one of them was Cray. Her second clue was that the assailant didn''t have much body hair. Which, once again pointed to Cray but didn''t eliminate one of the other two. Orison recognized the man as the one who laughed and didn''t respond to his battle buddy speech.


    \tUnwilling to drag it out any further than it needed to be, Orison asked for the guilty party to step forward for a lighter sentencing or wait for him to borrow a truth teller from the council for a maximum sentence of castration and ten years of labor camp to repay the remuneration due the victim. The ''laughing'' man bolted for the door. In a moment of temporary insanity or vile cunning the man screamed at the top of his lungs about how he and Specialist Cray had enjoyed the woman together amid other randomly spouted lies to give the Revivalists something to rail about.


    \tWith his and Gan''s attention on chasing down the ''laughing'' man, neither of them noticed an enraged Cray grab the bow he left at the door. Three seconds later an arrow sprouted from the other soldier''s eye socket. After a choice invective of his own, Cray returned the bow by the door and apologized to the woman on behalf of the security unit. As much as a swift ending to the delinquent soldier solved Orison''s problems, Cray had just doomed himself. Without the man responsible able to stand before the council, his accusations towards Cray wouldn''t be easily laid to rest.


    \tOrison spoke before the council about the incident and attempted as best he could to exonerate Cray but, in reality, they didn''t care about the incident much at all and certainly weren''t that interested in the truth. Even the Speaker of the Left saw a chastisement of some kind in order as a way to show Centerland soldiers that they were accountable for their actions. In poor Cray''s case, they wanted to kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.


    \tThinking quickly, Orison came up with the best solution he could to keep Cray from facing a fate the archer didn''t deserve. On the surface, Orison stripped Cray of his titles and was sending him home in disgrace to ''serve his sentence'' elsewhere. In reality, Orison offered Cray a position on his land as woodsman where he''d finish his enlistment term as a border woodland patrol. The understandably devastated but thankful Cray accepted. The sweetheart he''d been ''courtin'' proper-like'' begged her father to allow her to go along in secret but was ultimately denied.


    \tThe next day, Orison sent the bulk of his people on ahead of him. It was the first time since Orison came to this world that he was well and truly going to be separated from his mother and the second for Morrel to be away from Rithus. What should had been a mildly sad but hopeful parting was made bitter by the manacled Cray and hysterically weeping elf girl.


    \tGan, Morrel and Orison watched the boat get further away when a soft, almost effeminate voice said behind them, "Watching loved ones part is always a difficult thing to do."


    \tOrison turned around to face a Summerland man just shy of halfway through his life. Were the man a human instead of an elf, Orison would place him in his mid forties but soft living could make lie of true age and it was obvious to Orison''s eyes that the gold elf had taken good care of himself. The two guards that flanked him were much younger but didn''t appear as if they had a day of ''soft living'' between them.


    \t"I don''t believe we''ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. Pardon unintended rudeness. It seems I was negligent in studying Domain titles as I was supposed to have been replaced before you arrived," Orison said cordially.


    \tFaintly smiling, the elf said, "We have no title for diplomat. It is simply a function one of us may serve. My official title is Commissar. Avenar Diedrich is my name. You may call me Commissar Diedrich during official duties but please, feel free to call me Avenar if you''re inclined to be friendly."


    \tOrison said, "As of this moment, I have no reason to be otherwise. I have no doubts you already know my name and title but for politness'' sake. Legate Orison Cantrip, at your service. Feel free to call me Orison whenever you like. I''m just a stop-gap til the real man of the hour arrives anyway."


    \tAvenar gave a knowing smirk. "No need to be so modest. Words of your deeds and accomplishments have even reached the Domain. The very embassy I will reside in over the next two years bears your mother''s name at your behest. I have just cause to believe your replacement may find difficulty filling your shoes."


    \tOrison scoffed, "More like anchor weights you mean. I can''t wait to slip them off. No offense meant but perhaps we can continue this tomorrow over lunch. There''s a great deal of reorganizing to do within our suite and somber moods aren''t fitting for new meetings."


    \tWhen the three returned to the Centerland suite, Orison dropped his polite demeanor and fumed. "How much do either one of you bet that the unaccounted for gold found in laughing man''s belongings came from that snake. When he was shouting all that nonsense, I wondered who he kept looking for."


    \tGan said, "It just doesn''t add up. He wouldn''t throw his future away over a handful of gold would he?"


    \tMorrel enlightened, "No. That man''s assault had nothing to do with the gold. It was just a symptom of the disease. Orison''s actions accidentally flushed out a traitor before he could do real harm."


    \t"So Avenar''s real reason to be on the dock was gloating over his misdeed?" Gan asked.


    \tOrison said, "I''m sure he enjoyed the show but no. He wanted to gauge how much it had affected us... We are closing ranks and going dark as possible. This last month we are here is not going to turn into a circus for this clown... Wow, I can say that?... Anyway, I''m sure the men are going to hate it but aside from visits to their girlfriend''s homes, they aren''t so much as farting on New Fvaris''s streets. I''ll see what I can do to make their barracks a little more comfortable."


    \tThe next morning after their beach run, Orison informed the soldiers of the new tight regulations. "I know it will be hard but we have a gold snake slithering around in the grass and I don''t want anyone to get bit by it. Remember Specialist, sorry, Cray of no title? That was just an opening salvo. We do not go for tavern crawls when enemies are at our door.


    \t"To compensate, I''ll allow storage of recreational food and beverages in the barracks and temporarily relax visitation. Give me a little time and I''ll have privacy walls and front curtains for your bunks. You''ll need to work things out with your bunk mate but we''ll get through this. I''m not even going to pretend I can play games at this guy''s level but I won''t hesitate to set his board on fire if he wants to force me to play them.


    \t"Anyone sees anything suspicious, you report it to Captain Calix. Captain, until I say otherwise, I want to hear a morning and evening report daily. Keep everyone on the straight and narrow. I''ll see about getting you a raise to help feed your clutch with, you virile b******."


    \tCalix''s chuckle sounded hollow but considering his cut, that was understandable. In secret, Calix was ridiculously proud of himself and Orison knew that two of the four mothers to be were sisters who had openly declared that if he chose them to live with after service, they''d share him. With everything that was happening, Orison was keeping an eye on Calix, however. The way he figured, a man with expenditures and more family to exploit than he could keep track of could more easily be flipped.


    \tWhen Orison returned to the suite, the first thing he did was start shoring up defenses of his home. After digging a little into the ground under the floor to make a little safe house that might expand to an emergency tunnel, he discovered someone had already beaten him to the punch and considering how new they looked, it hadn''t been done long ago. Out of spite, Orison had a golem dig all night until it reached the sea, flooding the whole thing and all of it''s hidden accesses. He spent the rest of the wee hours of the morning fixing the foundation around his part of the suites openly.


    Predictably, he was summoned to the council at nine sharp along with Avenar.


    \tElder Fvaris led. "Legate Cantrip, as the senior in diplomacy currently. We''ll start with you. Do you know who built the flood tunnels under our city?"


    \tOrison looked confused. "When I found them they weren''t flooded though."


    \tWith a rictus grin, the Speaker of the Right said, "So do you admit to flooding them then?"


    \tOrison smiled widely and said, "I sure do. And I''ll do it again and again unless Granny Xia tells me not to."


    \tFrowning, Elder Fvaris said, "What if I tell you she was the one who had commissioned them?"


    \tOrison pretended to think for a moment and said, "Then I''ll help you rebuild them, of course. That is, right after I apologize to her in person. I can wait til she gets here if need be."


    \tLooking a little ill, elder Fvaris said, "That won''t be necessary, Legate. As it so happens, she didn''t."


    \tOrison faked relief and said, "Did I catch any rats or snakes? I''ve heard that unattended tunnels and caves on the island can fill up with vermin quickly."


    \tBoth the Speaker of the Right and Avenar frowned. Orison looked bitterly at the Speaker of the Right.


    \tHe thought, "I knew we''d never be bros but come on. You couldn''t wait til after I left?"


    \tThe Revivalist leader ignored Orison''s silent disappointment but at least didn''t throw any venom at him. He also didn''t admit to cooperating with the Commissar in the tunnel system''s creation behind the Speaker of the Left''s back which left the Commissar flapping in the wind. To Orison''s surprise, Avenar swallowed it down, unwilling to burn the only bridge the Domain diplomat likely had.


    \t"Commissar Deidrich, look at me. I was ten when I got here. This job is so stressful, it really ages you. Can we just not? Whatever Abyss the Domain wants you to raise, will it spoil so quickly it can''t wait for the man who was trained and might even enjoy playing such games with you?" Orison entreated.


    \tAvenar looked deprecatingly at him, "I had no such intentions from the beginning. As poorly as you may perceive me, I derive no pleasure from bullying children."


    \tOrison sighed. "Over my time here, I have come to appreciate the beauty, savagery and sheer insanity of this island and it''s people. Soon, I can appreciate it from a good, safe distance of half a world away. It would be my pleasure to spend a couple of weeks sharing stories over meals, having evening discussions about magic or philosophy and generally making things as pleasant as possible for both of us. I don''t even want to contemplate the alternatives."


    \tAvenar turned to the council, who had seemed to switch from interrogators to a blood thirsty audience waiting for violence with anticipation, and said, "Was this the plan of Centerland? Send a child to receive sympathy and mercy long enough to establish a few unfair trades then move on to real diplomacy?"


    \tIn a move that was disrespectful to the council but Orison hoped would be entertaining enough to fly with their current mood, he spoke before them. "No, Commissar, they sent me to die. They sent my mother and I here to hemorrhage out my inheritance and then die to cover up embezzlement. I have earned every borrowed second of my life, the lives of my people and the Centerland soldiers here. Honored venerable and respected enemy, do you disagree with this?"


    \tThe Speaker of the Right replied, "I do not but you will not speak before us when we are addressed, Legate."


    \tOrison bowed. "My apologies to all the present venerables. I merely wanted to make a point that would save us all some time and effort at the cost of courtesy. Commissar Deidrich, I have earned my seconds of life, enough of them to leave alive. The Dowager makes the exchange rate extremely simple. Two benefits for one inconvenience and right now, by any accounting that I can see, you are in debt. Start earning."


    \tThe Domain elf laughed and said, "Then let me begin earning right now!"


    \tA formation lit up under Orison''s feet, rooting him in place as if he had been instantly frozen.

 45 OEW

    \tAvenar didn''t waste time on pleasantries. As soon as he was assured that Orison was petrified, he pulled out an antique collar and placed it around Orison''s neck. By the time that the young mage could move again, threads of dark red spirit energy had buried themselves through most of his body.


    \t"On your hands and knees, slave," Avenar ordered.


    \tIn an experimental half second, Orison briefly resisted long enough to analyze how the threads worked before giving in to the demand. Turned to his inner space and spirit sight, Orison began working on the threads and paid no heed to the arrogant winner speech the Domain elf gave as he used the young mage as a seat. As superficially humiliating and physically painful as his current situation was, Orison now understood on much better terms what his compromise with the world actually meant.


    \tThe paralysis spell and the spirit threads of the collar were external influences. Most of his body was also considered external and therefore subject. The internal effects that should have sealed off free access to magic talent and freedom to think as he wished, did nothing. His head, chest and testicles seemed to be gray areas that could only partially be affected on the physical side. They were easily mapped and observable due to the clusters of threads trying to unsuccessfully invade more than the mere surface of those areas.


    \tStill, he didn''t have to fake the pain he felt as Avenar demonstrated his control. As a brisk auction came underway to determine his new owner, Orison began siphoning the spiritual energy into his space. Before the handing of the control key could be completed, Avanar begged indulgence that Orison needed to be prepared with all assurances that the young mage would be returned in the condition he was taken.


    \tElder Fvaris, who had won the impromptu auction, said, "I''m knowledgeable enough to complete whatever else needs done. There is no need for preparation."


    \tAvenar, already halfway through a speedy and efficient casting of a specialized type of teleport, said, "It will only be a short time."


    \tLooking a great deal more concerned than she probably would have liked to show, Elder Fvaris moved to interrupt the teleport casting. Dowager Xia stepped out of the shadows behind the large throne-like chair her grandniece sat on and placed a restraining hand on the elder''s shoulder.


    \t As the circle lit up, Orison gave a covert wink at the Fvaris elder and Xia, thinking, "Fake it til you make it, right?"


    \tOnce the blinding curtain of light faded away, Orison found himself in a secret chamber surrounded by a half dozen guards.


    \tAvenar dismissed them then turned to Orison and said, "Disrobe. Fine clothes and enchanted jewelry is far too valuable for a lowly slave to possess."


    \tAs Orison took them off, with flashes of light produced by bursting half complete candle flame models, he drew the clothes and jewelry into his space along with greedier draws of the spirit threads, moving closer to their source.


    \tAvenar looked on in disbelief before he started laughing. "It was all flash and no substance. You were walking around practically naked with tailored illusions? A talented mage beggared by his own kingdom, this is priceless... We are going to have a chat, you and I. I''ve heard all sorts of rumors about you and I wonder how many of them are true...


    \t"If you don''t fight the magic and help me expedite this process so I can return you to your new owner, I won''t call one of my guards in to violate you for my amusement. Unless, that is, you''d rather I did? All you need do is tell me which you prefer. It will be the last choice in anything you do or get in some time I''m afraid."


    \tAs the elf reached to caress Orison''s face, not a touch of anything other than cold calculation in the elf''s eyes, the young mage was inspired to a different plan. It hurt like nothing he''d ever felt before but reaching with his magic to the source of the collar''s power, he ripped the pea sized paste pearl with a nearly drained presence of eternium crystal powder out of it. The sudden scraping disappearance of the spirit threads in his body left micro wounds riddled within him.


    \tSeeing Orison collapse, Avenar laughed again and said, "What? Are you angry, scared? That pain you''re feeling is for trying to move against me. You see, the magic in your collar will not allow you to do much more than have fleeting thoughts of harming anyone, even yourself." Moving down to grab Orison''s face, the elf finished, "Your life and death are no longer yours, muddy blooded mutt."


    \tUsing guesswork, Orison gathered some crystal powder from the orbital ring in his space and fashioned another half-pea sized pearl with it. With no power in it, the collar was unclasped and nearly fell off. With a jerk of his head, Orison managed to catch it between his collarbone and chin.


    \t"I cannot even begin to imagine how much pain that little act of defiance cost you but I am glad you have some fight. Far too few manage more than a word or simple gesture before their resistance is wiped clean." Avenar gloated.


    \tOrison punched the elf in the throat. As Avenar struggled to pull in air, clawing at his own wind pipe, Orison fought off the elf''s hands to put the collar on, earning a few scratches in the process. Once it was clasped, Orison placed his makeshift power source into the collar. A high pitch whine came from the enchantment structure within as the metal portions of the collar started heating up.


    \tTwo things registered at the same time. Orison realized that there was too much energy in the ''battery'' which was going to cause the collar to explode and that he''d hit the elf too hard. Despite the searing of his flesh, Avenar couldn''t so much as whimper. As a makeshift solve for both, Orison projected the simple healing model he''d made a while back for Thorrinson and projected it on to the exposed part of the elf''s shoulder blade before connecting it with the excess energy from the collar.


    \tOrison watched in detached curiosity as the eternium powered spell model also seared into the elf''s skin over and over as it healed it''s own damage and the damage to the elf''s throat. Realizing that the elf would start screaming soon, Orison ordered Avenar not to. The process of the collar pushing against primal instinct wasn''t overly effective. Nearly breathless grunts and agonized whimpers broke free of the collar''s ability to stop.


    \tA guard came to peek in. to avoid the guard noticing anything overly suspicious, Orison bit the additional humiliation bullet and pulled Avenar over himself, pretending to cry and let out weak protests. Seeing the guard relax, he was relieved that he''d be able to push this disgusting creature off himself and get to work but the guard didn''t leave. At the distance Orison was at, it was hard to tell but it seemed as if the guard in question was hesitating to leave because he was ''enjoying'' the show.


    \tSilently screaming obscenities in his head, Orison whispered a command to Avenar prompting the elf to grit out through grunts and sobs, "If you''re going to watch.. you... might as w-well join. Uhnn undress and help m-me punish this slave."


    \tThe quickness and lack of hesitation to obey spoke volumes to Orison about the goings on in this place. He vowed to burn it to the ground as soon as he''d sacked it.


    \tA few more whispered orders as the ready and eager guard approached, "L-lay there and close your ha-eyes. There are things I w-want to see a-hu-and enjoy first."


    \tAs soon as the guard obeyed, Orison summoned a battle axe and backhand swung it. It wasn''t a clean cut through the neck as he''d hoped but the guard was dead after a mere moment of thrashing anyway. While the young mage cleaned and dressed himself, he had Avenar lay on top of the guard''s body, both to hide it''s wretchedness from Orison''s sight and for cover if someone else decided to get curious.


    \tOnce Avenar had adjusted, after the nerves in his back around the model had stopped working, Orison began interrogating the elf about where they were, what was here and how to get it. Once he was done with that, he ordered the key for the collar be given to him. Orison watched on in fascination as the elf tried desperately to say the release phrase but couldn''t as he reluctantly handed it to Orison.


    \tKey in hand, Orison was about to begin his pillage and sacking plan when a heavy and unsettling feeling welled up in him. A compound whisper as loud as a banshee''s scream resounded across his mindscape. There was one wish Orison had made that throughout his adventures, never had the ability to express itself until that moment. It was a great deal of power repressed into it''s fair share of the structured miasma but he wasn''t taken by surprise entirely. A part of himself had been waiting for this moment and Orison let it control the flow, warping and exploiting the wish''s loopholes.


    \tWhat had seemed like some time in his space had only been about thirty seconds in reality but it had been a fruitful thirty seconds. Once pulled back out, the key no longer resembled itself at all, it''s appearance a tennis ball sized glass orb filled with symbols and pictographs. It had become a powerful conduit with a very specific focus. Just holding it, Orison knew, anything created by an elf that was no longer alive could be repaired, controlled and undone by this ''key''. That included elves themselves, assuming a parent was dead.


    \tAs a conduit it had rules, both the rules of greater reality and it''s own, flavored by it''s creator and in the creation process itself. In general, it took more energy from it''s user than it used. If there wasn''t enough, it would tap life force or soul to make up the difference. The exception was the releasing or destruction of slave collars and other devices that deprived another of free will. The concepts of freedom and lending aid were a part of its creation so the more a use aligned with those ideas, the less extra energy it drew. Using the key to fix or activate a device, like a slave collar, not only ran to it''s most extreme costliness but it would also misalign the conduit with it''s current holder.


    \tThe most curious attribute of Orison''s new conduit was that it had a will of it''s own. It refused to be locked up unused or stowed away, forgotten. When it had been with someone for awhile without serving any purpose, it would ''move on''. Orison realized that this was what a conduit really was. It wasn''t meant to be kept by it''s maker but released to seek out the maker''s chosen type of people, allowing the creator to observe and even interfere in those lives. It was also an accumulator depending on its general usefulness, gathering excess energy and feeding it to its creator. If the conduit was too useful, as this one was in his current world, then other beings could become covetous of it and Orison would only have two options. He could recall it to his space or abandon it to keep from drawing their attention.


    \tLifting the orb, Orison gave the command for all slaves to gather all portable valuables on the property and move to his location. He was shocked to discover that quite a few of the guards on the property were also under some form of compulsion that the orb recognized. Considering its first use flew in the face of its paradigm, the orb was not happy but Orison allowed the orb to sense his intent which made the orb chime in contentment.


    \tFresh out of the forge of creation, the orb was supercharged but Orison recognized it was currently so strong due to Avanars key as the base with the sheer amount of miasma used in its creation. Anywhere else and over such a distance would likely kill any mundane who attempted to use it in such a fashion as they wouldn''t be able to pay the price. It was at that moment Orison realized what he had created was no pure agent of goodness in the world but a trap for the selfish and a trial for the just. Only a selfless martyr or one strong and wise enough to use it judiciously could consider it a benevolent existence.


    \tIf the environment and the participants weren''t so fearful and despairing, Orison would have laughed at some of the things considered portable valuables. There was absolutely nothing funny about the condition of some of the slaves assembled in front of him or the guards of the property who were a blend of victim and assailant both. For the near hour it took to subdue the few inhabitants of this island that weren''t under Orison''s control by orb or sheer fear and plunder, he didn''t want to use up much more time on the second part of his planned actions. He needed to get back before a myriad of possible negative situations might unfurl.


    \tUsing a handful of orb reinforced questions, he split the inhabitants into three groups; the ones who were willing to be a part of his ''clan'' and were loyal, the ones who didn''t or weren''t trustworthy but were relatively innocent of wrongdoing and the rest. The ''rest'' were summarily led into another room and executed by bound axe as humanely as Orison could deliver under a shortened time limit, assistance to collect blood, hearts and heads included. The ''free and innocent'' were released from their collars and given a share of the less desirable but still useful loot to make their own way after Orison made a cursory effort to organize them.


    \tOrison looked over his new people. A mercifully small amount of hollow eyed youths, a couple of injury lamed young adults and four ''former'' Domain guards who had no family left or that would claim them who had grown too disillusioned with their reality after the horrid treatment of Avenar, were his lot. Picking through the least nauseating of clothes, he ran some cleaning and healing before Orison divvied up what was useful for them and paid out a good chunk of salary before storing the rest away.


    \tOrison had Avenar use his manor''s circle to move all his new people to the beacon formation in the Domain suites. Once they had arrived the guards there were made to stand down and between lesser uses of the orb, his own guards and Avenar''s insistence, Orison managed to parse out two more deaths and two reprieves. Since they were soldiers brought with Avenar by choice, Orison wasn''t surprised to not obtain any more Domain defectors. The two survivors received a bit more loot in need of liquidizing than those on the island as they were in greater need of it to safely make their way back home. His people finished off the maneuver by claiming all the best of the suite and marching it back to Centerland''s own.


    \tWhen he arrived, Orison found Gan staring at the door with a relieved smile when he walked in but no sign of Morrel. He quickly filled Gan in on what had occurred and asked the old witch to look after the young ones and tend to the other two young adults that were still in need of some more mundane recovery. After that, he roused the Centerland soldiers to be on alert, introduced them to the two elven guards who would be joining them to protect the suite then took the two remaining plus Gan and Avenar back to the council house.


    \tDespite it having been nearly two hours since Orison was abducted, the only major change as they were urshered in to see the council was that Xia was sitting in the Fvaris chair, taking a tea with the council.


    \tUpon seeing Orison enter like someone had lit a fire under him, Xia cackled and said, "Took you long enough. I thought you weren''t going to return until half the Domain was overrun by an Abyss gate or some other impossible nonsense... Grandniece, as I said. He either would prove himself as capable as what I believed or he would prove me wrong and not worth special consideration."


    \tOrison said blandly, "Thak you, Granny Xia, for your glowing words of faith."


    \tTurning to the secondary council member under the Speaker of the Left, Orison said, "Venerable, I have taken Granite Falls Island. If I remember correctly that is your clan''s previous crown jewel island. Do you want it or do you desire to pass it on to a more hot blooded clan?"


    \tA heated discussion broke out over the benefits and negatives of burning bridges with the Domain over one island.


    \tOrison let them bat it around back and forth for a few minutes until he said, "Please venerables, I know it is rude to interrupt but I have much to share and there is not so great a time to deliberate on it to best advantage... First and foremost, it is not just one island. My slave here has access to three more. If taken, the two between them will be cut off almost completely except by boat, which is considerably dangerous and time consuming for the Domain to send reinforcements to.


    \t"There is less than a five and a half hour window before evening report and after that things become uncertain. All I need to know is, are you hungry or are you satisfied? It''s simplicity itself to pin this ''atrocity'' against the Domain on me and close it but if you want your islands back, I can save you half the effort it will take right now and scare the ugly underwear off the Domain. They aren''t going to consider turning sights back towards Obsidian Island until after spring of next year but by then they''ll be entrenching to protect what they have acquired and playing the long game with you."


    \tThe speaker of the Right stood up and trembled in anticipation around his hideous rictus grin. "As long as he can substantiate, I am all for."


    \tXia immediately hushed the assembly before turning shrewd eyes glowing with a spell model towards Orison. "Before this can go any further, I want your assessment of the situation and it''s success rate."

 46 OEW

    \tOrison spilled all he had acquired from Avenar about troop numbers, estimated wealth and situations to expect on each of the three islands. Under Xia''s truth spell, the Commissar turned slave repeated what he had reported again with only minor but important differences the elf had managed to work around the first time.


    \tOrison thought to himself, "This disgusting piece of work can''t die horrible enough but he is loyal to his country."


    \tXia added, "It sounds like one of the islands that would have previously belonged to the Speaker of the Right''s own clan has some unexpected problems. What do you say on your end to mitigate this situation to better favor his predicament, Legate?"


    \tOrison laughed, "What a nice way of stating that even though I am spoon feeding you an opportunity, I need to lend my troops and bleed for it too... Elder Liu, I''d like to go kill some Domain elves with you today but the soldiers will need some incentive. Twenty percent spoils and first pick with two of your people for every one of mine in the vanguard."


    \tElder Liu''s eyes brightened as his ashen skin tightened further. "Half a percent per soldier that kills two or more up to a maximum of ten percent. I want both of your so-called captains and the vanguard will only be promised equal numbers."


    \tOrison''s eyes narrowed as he said, "Last shot, Elder. Half a percent for every two kills ''total'' up to a maximum of of twenty percent. They''ll have to work hard to earn it and I''ll drum up thirty troops or you can half the total. I can only promise one captain. I''ll try to get you both but I''ll need three hours and mounts for ten. The other clans need to start their attacks before then which means I''ll have to leave Avenar with Granny Xia."


    \tElder Liu laughed like a lunatic. "That''s a lot of pressure you''re putting on yourself. I like it. Done."


    \tOrison took the gold elf''s spell book and four of the six scrolls from him. With a sneaking suspicion, Orison ordered Avenar to tell him if there were any beacons near or on the trade post. He was unsurprised to find out there were two and one was an underground relay right underneath the barracks. Afterward, Orison ordered the gold elf to obey Granny Xia in anything related to the attacks but nothing that threatened him or his people. If the elf couldn''t stop her from forcing him into an action that threatened Orison or his people, the elf was to kill himself. He did this brazenly before the old woman which only made her smile, almost fondly, as if she was proud of him.


    \tAs Orison rushed off, he could hear Xia using him as an example to Elder Fvaris that no matter how hectic things became, she should never lose focus of small and potentially fatal details. What he didn''t hear about until later were the many examples of how and when he had failed to keep his.


    \tThe young mage thought it was a bit too much to force his newly acquired gold elf clan mates to fight their own people so he let them stay with the rest in the suite. With a quick call to rally, Orison had Calix and his soldiers gear up. Afterwards, he explained the situation tersely to the captain.


    \tTurning to the troops he said, "Today, we are going to spill some Domain blood beside an enemy. That enemy is going to pay handsomely for your services as long as you make the gold ones bleed and not them. I''m off to drum up some old friends to fight with you... Captain Calix, once they are suited, get them to Elder Liu. Don''t start sh*t but don''t take more than what''s appropriate. If any soldier doesn''t see as many or more obsidian elves in the vanguard than there is Centerland soldiers, don''t march. Barring a drop into the Abyss, I''ll be back in time but I try to prepare for the worse."


    \tBy the time he had made it outside, Orison saw a file of ten skeleton horses with their own leather as tack. Dark lines ran down his head for a second before he shrugged.


    \t"Don''t look a gift horse in the skull, I guess," Orison thought as he had them rank up in front of the Summerland suite.


    \tStepping inside, Orison fired off a scroll with the underground relay. It took him almost a minute to find the hidden catch but once it was popped open, he stepped out casually to the dropped jaws of the three soldiers inside.


    \tSmiling benignly, Orison said, "Thank your lucky stars I got my foot on the neck of a Domain diplomat right now or this could have been nighttime with a different flavor of elves coming to slit your throat while you slept... Your welcome... I need to see Captain Nadir right now and it''s a full alert emergency. NOW!"


    \tThe three ran off as the young mage stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. It surprised Orison how much he missed the decommissioned consulate. Squabbling with Nadir didn''t seem nearly as stressful as what he was dealing with. He had to remind himself that if he hadn''t went to bat with Nadir, he would have ended up owing logistics thousands before it was all said and done. More importantly, he would have looked soft and easy to squeeze to the senators he''d be dealing with soon and that could be disastrous.


    \tUnwilling to take the risk, Captain Nadir came running up from the dock area but began frowning as soon as he saw Orison ''taking it easy''.


    \tTo head off inevitable posturing, Orison shouted out to the captain, "You need to see this now," and disappeared into the barracks.


    \tWalking and discreetly trying to catch his breath, Nadir entered the barracks to see the opened relay with the magic circle in it. "That''s definitely not good."


    \tOrison nodded and said, "That''s not even the half of it, he collared me too. I got better, then collared him back but still, I got a taste of magic slavery. I can say with certainty, that I wont be applying for additional experiences."


    \tCaptain Nadir said, "This definitely deserved my immediate attention but not a full alert. I have men pulled from essential duties because of your false alarm."


    \tOrison smiled benignly, "Who said it was false? The alarm is that we have two and a half hours to reach New Fvaris if we want to kill Domain soldiers for honor, glory and loot."


    \tHe quickly gave Nadir the breakdown and let the captain make up his mind.


    \t"As tempting as this is, I don''t have enough horses to gear and I could only get eight there with the horses I have that I''m willing to spare from official duty." the captain said, shaking his head with fake solemness.


    \tOrison said, "You''d do it otherwise?"


    \tNadir smiled a fake smile and said "Of course I would. That''s good gold. It''s a shame."


    \tOrison shouted, "You heard him, men! Your captain is calling you to kill the Glorious Empire''s direst enemy! Suit up in ten and be ready to ride in five!"


    \tThe men scrambled before Nadir could stop them.


    \tTurning to Orison, he just sighed and rubbed his head. "What tricks do you have up your sleeve to make me look foolish this time?"


    \t"Just follow me and I''ll show you," the young mage replied.


    \tTwo more scrolls burnt and some creative stacking, Orison had ten skeletal horses on the post. Captain Nadir mirrored Orison''s look from earlier with much the same end result. The young mage could see the fight and hesitation dancing in the captain''s eyes.


    \tSpeaking plainly, Orison said, "Captain Nadir, the extra gold may just seem like a deadly lure but listen to me on this. Once this fight is done, Centerland soldiers will have fought beside their biggest detractors on this island. If you can hold them together long enough to get a few lives saved and a little camaraderie as an icebreaker, a lot of the hostility could be laid to rest. Without a little good will to break some of the bad blood, things could turn ugly not long after I leave. You know I''m not just talking to hear my teeth rattle."


    \tNadir attempted one last volley to back out. "What''s to stop them from turning on us or honoring the split after it''s done. One little argument could turn the field into another battle."


    \tOrison didn''t want to admit it but the last part was all too true. "I know you won''t take my word for it but Elder Liu is more honest than any other Elder on that council and not by a small margin. He''ll do what he says but to sweeten the pot for you, this island battle is your merit if it turns good and my failure if it turns bad. I swear it to you. I already have foiling the Domain plot and urging the obsidian elves to burn their bridges with Summerland already anyway."


    \tNadir thought for a moment then said, "Throw in finding the underground relay to me. That''s just embarrassing."


    \tOrison laughed. "I''m not stupid, Nadir. That''s pretty much key to the whole Domain plot. I can write in that after informing you of the one under the embassy you found yours without any help from me."


    \tNadir smirked. "Can''t blame me for trying."


    \t"I can. I did and I will forgive but never forget. That aside, I do miss you from time to time. Calix isn''t bad but he''s not you. I''ll never admit it to anyone else though. I really wish things hadn''t gotten this way but I guess we are who we are." Orison said, a little regretful.


    \tLooking a little regretful himself, before he turned to organize the soldiers, Nadir added, "My mistakes wouldn''t have been mistakes if it had been any other legate in the entire empire. I know that''s a sh*t apology but it is my truth."


    \tAs Orison watched the captain work his special brand of military magic, he thought, "Damn it, I believe you. Why else do you think I can let go of the stunts you pulled. It just p*sses me off that I couldn''t have the best man for the job beside mom and me because of it."


    \tRiding like the Abyss opened behind them, Nadir had taken every man he could that knew how to ride except for a couple out on courier duty. Doing the math in his head, Orison counted up a total of thirty-four and after they arrived, two would be leading horses back which left thirty-two. It made Orison a little nervous that if more than two couldn''t make it to rally then they''d lose half count. To lessen the odds of that happening, Orison shouted at Nadir that little piece of new, causing the captain to let out a string of curses.


    \tOrison thought at worse case, if he had to, him and Gan could make up the numbers but if Morrel was still AWOL when he got back, he had more important things to attend to and damn the loss of reward. No sooner had that thought passed through his head before the most rickety of the skeletal horses stuck a small jump a little too hard that it shouldn''t have been made to do to begin with.


    \tThe little show-off that was having too much fun with his ride, was spilled and when he stood up, the soldier fell back down with a scream as his leg bone poked out of the top of his left greave. Orison, who wasn''t too far away, waived everyone ahead then turned around to apply first aid and snatch up the fallen soldier. With two quick slaps of heal to the leg and tail bone, Orison tossed the soldier on to Stupid Horse like a sack of potatoes and took off again.


    \tThe rest of the way was playing catch up. Luckily the show-off on Orison''s horse served as a lesson to the rest not to take the undead horse''s unflagging stamina for granted. As they got closer to the deadline, a couple horses went lame slowing Orison down again. Once healed, the horses followed Orison as if it was the most natural thing to do but despite this unexpected assist, he was painfully aware that his horse was not going to catch up to the rest. Responding to it''s maker''s frustration, the the recently dubbed, Danann Key flared into brilliance as the horse model within Orison''s mind underwent a change to it''s original full potential, increasing it''s aspects all around. Once finished, the orb disappeared.


    \tThe lifelike and beautiful white horse didn''t much resemble Stupid Horse anymore and had a telepathic link with the caster as long as physical contact was maintained. To commemorate it, Orison decided to rename the spell to Summon Enbarr. It occurred to Orison, belatedly, that the orb had unintentionally pulled a nasty trick on him.


    \tBlanking him out to fix the ancient elven spell also meant that Orison would have to find a calm time to meditatively search for the orb as he didn''t feel where it went. If the orb was used or in danger of being claimed he''d know instantly but until then he would be in the dark. Unfortunately, that meant his biggest ''cheat'' if he found himself in the upcoming fight had been removed, significantly lowering his desire to go.


    \tPassing by a pile of three legged horse bones outside of the city, Orison said, "Well, Patrin, you got what you earned but it still looks like I need to have a quick word with Elder Liu. That could have gotten someone''s neck broke."


    \tThe soldier clinging to Orison, somewhat pale but in working order, said, "Legate, I admit to enjoying myself but I didn''t signal that horse to jump."


    \tThe captains pooled their men and without Orison having to say a word, Nadir took lead with Calix temporarily taking the second''s spot.


    \tWhile the two caught up on finer details, Orison addressed the soldiers as Elder Liu observed. "Yesterday''s enemy is today''s ally. That isn''t just politics, it''s life. Whatever may come tomorrow is tomorrow''s order of business. While you''re out there reaping gold in more ways than one, remember two things. You have to be alive to spend it and you need a clear conscious if you want to enjoy it.


    \t"To help you remember those two points, this battle has one additional rule set. Any incident of friendly fire or buddy f***ing of any kind will dock your reward by half but any incident of going above and beyond to save a ''living'' clan member will earn you fifty percent more than the base number before additions and subtractions. There is no additional reward for saving your fellow soldier as that is what you should be doing without question but notable instances of valor will be rewarded as per tradition."


    \tWith one last word to Nadir and Calix that the leader''s share would be split between them sixty to forty in Nadir''s favor and that he would be taking none, Orison turned to Elder Liu for a final conversation before battle. "Venerable, I did what I could on my end to provide incentive for useful cooperation. Old hatreds aside, I''d appreciate a return of that. Things like a shoddy horse that ran out of animation before it could pass through the arch of this city doesn''t inspire much trust."


    \tElder Liu didn''t show any reaction in either direction to that reveal. "Whatever I may feel towards Centerland, Legate, I and my clan know the rules of engagement. Chaos in the field serves neither of us. As for this horse, I''m not inclined to look into it. Rushed work is bound to have flaws. I will heap shame on the one responsible for tarnishing the repute of their craft."


    \tOrison nodded. "Speaking of craft, when I agreed to one clansmen per soldier in the vanguard, I meant living clansmen. No matter how you try to play on those words, a corpse puppet is a possession not a person. Their spirit is what you treat in death as in life."


    \tThe elder showed signs of shiftiness so Orison added, "If you won''t do it for good faith do it for morale. Even a soldier of your own clan flanked by corpses they do not control is going to feel compared in importance to them. That makes for a poor fighter."


    \tElder Liu said, "Using corpse puppets as vanguard is a cornerstone of our fighting style. Changing it for this one battle is going to cause more harm than a minor drop in moral."


    \tOrison said, "Then have the soldiers guard the controllers and share kill count two to one. Since earning a percentage increase for saving a clansmen was added in to our side, there won''t be a problem with that. Treating the soldiers I brought to help you as autonomous corpse puppets, I have a big problem with that."


    \tOnce the elder and Captain Nadir where in their strategy meeting to hash out the details, Orison went to find Gan after insuring that, at least on their end, soldiers were stationed to poke holes in unauthorized appearances at the beacon circles. Upon entering the Centerland suites, the young mage saw an unfamiliar face in the crowded main room.


    \t"Vener- uh, Legate Cantrip, I know we have never met. I''m Ruolan. I believe that Morrel is about to be in great danger," the young obsidian elf woman said, a single tear blazing a trail down her wine-stain birth marked face.

 47 OEW

    \tGan, who had already heard the whole story and was waiting for Orison''s return, reported. "The girl here has Morrel''s get. It''s confirmed but really early in. Fvaris clan was going to take her to some secure location along with some other girls . Morrel got them to hold off taking Little Lan by owing them a favor which Elder Fvaris'' father immediately called in." To the side, he whispered low in Orison''s ear, "They gave him the other breath potion and sent him into the hole, the place we went to where you got hurt bad."


    \tOrison looked at Ruolan and asked, "To the best of your knowledge, did Granny Xia or Elder Fvaris have anything to do with this?You know what? It doesn''t matter. Is there anything you don''t have with you right now that you absolutely must have to the point you''d risk your freedom to get it?"


    \tRoulan thought for a moment and shook her head.


    \tLike rolling thunder clouds in the distance, Orison rumbled. "Gan, as soon as I get Elder Liu on to his island, I want you to get everyone''s things together. I was done with these a**holes the second they let that Domain elf set a trap for me in the council house. This whole thing was just a way for me to break free faster. In spite of everything, we haven''t even gotten through this island skirmish and some Fvaris b*****d is setting up the next ploy."


    \tOrison turned to the old hedge witch. "Medea, do you have enough fire in your bones to make sure Calix doesn''t get himself killed doing something stupid for three weeks?"


    \tThe old woman cackled and said, "Even the gods can''t keep stupid men alive but if you''ve got the coin, you''ll buy the best advice I have for him. That''s all I can promise."


    \tOrison nodded and said, "Name your price."


    \t"Fifty gold and a writ of passage to you land for if I make myself unwelcome here," The witch said steadily.


    \tThe young mage replied, "Done, but you need to make up your mind for certain whether you want to stay here or make your way to me when you''re done. I''ll not have an elderly person crossing half the known world by herself."


    \t"One last grand adventure it is then but who will stay to accompany me?" Medea said.


    \tOrison turned to the group of people he had rescued and said, "I need a volunteer... Thank you, but the four of you are recently divested Domain soldiers. Too many bad things could happen to an obsidian elf and a gold elf guard traveling through Centerland with little more than a piece of paper to protect themselves from accusations with."


    \tTo the lack of the group''s surprise, the offer of volunteer that Orison accepted was from the only Centerland lineage person in the room, a fourteen year old boy who''s father was an unknown Domain soldier. Given to Avenar as a gift when he was eight, the boy had endured four years as the commissar''s toy and two more being trained as an infiltrator. The boy had buried his hate deep and resisted the mental programming parts of his training as best he could. Another two years and it was likely he''d have been lost to the darkness Avenar attempted to instill within him.


    \tIf Orison hadn''t had the Danann Key to ''unlock'' and ''repair'' the boy''s will among other things the conduit considered locked and damaged, confirming that the boy''s father was dead, he''d never have been able to fully trust the Centerland teen. Avenar''s methods contained magical means as well as mundane and this was a small test the young mage had concocted on the fly. With the boy''s willingness to volunteer being the last hurdle, Orison had decided to add him to the roster of his inner circle.


    \tThe young mage took the boy to his office and closed the door. "We haven''t got a lot of time before I have to finish affairs with Elder Liu so let''s get to it. First off, I need a name to call you because the one given by that filth isn''t a proper name and doesn''t ever bear repeating. Do you have one in mind or do you want help?"


    \tThe boy''s dull, world weary eyes met Orison''s. "Something simple and easy to remember will do, lord."


    \tUnpleasant goosebumps pebbled his skin as Orison said, "No need for the ''lord'' business. Orison is fine... How about Gaelen or Duran. The meaning of the first is ''firm mind in difficulty'' and the second is ''firm and enduring person''."


    \t"Duran then, Orison," the boy said.


    \tOrison nodded and said, "Alright, Duran. Keep your eyes centered on my chest and try not to blink."


    \tAs Duran''s eyes locked on to him, Orison summoned out every skill book copy he had left, one at a time and opened. They were of no use to anyone in his core group as they had either already read them previously before Orison acquired them again, were about subjects that held no interest to anyone or, in Droya''s case, didn''t possess the spark of talent the world had deemed necessary to get their benefit. Books on the heavier armors, smithing, shield work and the leftovers all unloaded their knowledge with that spark of something extra that had come in the items ''dark night of horrors'' bestowed.


    \tBelatedly, Orison realized that the world wasn''t reacting as poorly to the changes catalyzed in Duran, making the bit of ''aloe gel'' he''d wheedled out of Morrel to study, unnecessary. He theorized offhandedly that it probably had something to do with the world''s ''energy tax'' on the items used to do it as compared to when they were receiving ''dark night''s'' benefits without any contribution. He also observed that whatever Beta had done to exploit the loopholes in his wishes, or perhaps due to the majority of granted essence being filtered through skill books, Duran had lost none of his Centerland ascetic despite also having been ''aged and trained up''.


    \tWhile taking a couple of minutes to copy over some novice spells he thought would be useful for Duran, a cursory spirit sight scan informed Orison that the boy might be nearly as ''primed for climbing'' as his other three teammates but the extra something that all the rest had was little more than a seed of possibility in Duran. Orison considered that having such a possibility of self guided growth might not be as sure of a success but in the long run might actually be superior, as the boy would make it more uniquely his than the others had a chance to.


    \tOrison prepared a ''care package'' of equipment and funds then bundled up the boy who had passed out at the edge of spiritual and mental rupture, laying Duran down in his own room. After administering a little of his most precious potions to help Duran adjust, Orison laid a note along with the new novice spell book and care package beside the bed. After leaving the room, he cast his dubious Lock spell on the door and informed everyone that Duran would be up and about within a couple of hours.


    \tTaking Gan to the side, Orison asked discretely, "Is Morrel still alright and how much time do I have left before Xia''s time limit with Avenar is up?"


    \tGan''s eyes widened. "How do you- yes, he''s still alright. My best guess on the second is that it''s already up. Even if it isn''t, about a minute ago Elder Liu sent a clansman to ask what the hold-up was."


    \tOrison said, "In the last couple days, you could go wherever anyone else was without asking around. I figure your ''map'' has some interesting feature or two you discovered but weren''t sure enough to tell anyone about yet. Besides, you were cool as a breeze under Ruolan''s worry which isn''t your style, Gan. I''d say you almost give a sh*t as much as me about the rest of our ''family''. Now, if you were worried when I came in, it would have been a whole other story... and f*ck the Elders. If I wasn''t in such a hurry to find a way to cut ties with this sh*thole I''d want to kill them all for watching me get trapped by that Domain douche and not lifting a finger."


    \tOn the off chance he may not return, Orison informed the four elven guardsman of his clan an alternative travel arrangement he hoped would be unnecessary. With Gan in tow, Orison strode over to the Domain suite and informed the Liu clansmen there that the ''hold-up'' was due to Xia not returning his slave in a timely manner. Ignoring their follow-up questions, he made his way to the beacon and used it''s signature coupled with his tie to the collar to call Avenar to him.


    \tHe felt the tug but his gold elf teleporter did not appear. Trying one more time to call, Orison sent his spirit sight with it experimentally. It didn''t leave out of his short radius in any particular direction as he expected. Instead, it lead Orison into the depths of the Fvaris compound.


    \tOrison howled, "That selfish, greedy b*tch!"


    \tStepping outside, he turned to the Fvaris compound and screamed at the top of his lungs. "Bring me my slave now or I''m sending a golem to fetch him. Elder Liu doesn''t have time for your exploitation. He still has his island to claim!"


    \tHearing his name, the Revivalist leader speed walked his way to Orison and said, "Enlighten me."


    \tOrison said benignly, waving his hand towards the Fvaris compound, "It would be my pleasure, Venerable. The old greedy c*nt has my slave somewhere in the ground over there."


    \tA large handful of Fvaris clansmen came pouring out, throwing shade at Orison and denying his ''outrageous'' claims. One of the older men walked over to Elder Liu and stated that Orison was plotting something and that their clan elder had ran into unexpected problems due to false information, trapped with Avenar on the island Fvaris was reclaiming.


    \tOrison turned to the Fvaris clansman and said, "So you won''t mind this..."


    \tRealizing the only thing he''d probably get back from his slave was a broken body minus relic slave collar, he was finished playing nice.


    \tIn ancient elvish, he said, "Fight after death."


    \tOnce said, Orison willed his slave return. With a pop of displaced air, Avenar shambled out of the Domain suite, pieces of building and gold skinned body parts belonging to his attempted rescuers shuffled out of his way. A damning small plume of dust raised from a piece of ground to the side of the Fvaris compound.


    \tWith saintly expression, Orison said, "My goodness. I thought that would be perfectly safe since he was supposed to be much further away. But why would he be exactly where I said he was instead of where your honest and trustworthy personage claimed him to be? And what''s this? Domain elves? I''m going to be honest. I had no idea it was that deep of a betrayal. She was even selling out all the other council members."


    \tElder Liu, who had been ready to turn on Orison, smashed his staff into the man''s head as the clansman lunged for Orison. "No one is touching this legate until I get my use of him."


    \tOrison turned to Elder Liu and said, "From my best estimate, you have fifteen minutes at full capacity before his soul burns out and the collar breaks. Make plans for a boat trip back."


    \tElder Liu frowned and said, "So you''re giving this thing to me?"


    \tOrison nodded and said, "You and your clan are adept at using the dead. I''d just get people killed trying to make it force cast. Fourteen minutes and counting, Elder. I doubt you care if Fvaris clan members try to kill me or not. I sure as sh*t don''t. She''s about to realize I''ve been f***ed for the last time so now I guess it''s your turn. Enjoy, and watch your back."


    \tElder Liu shouted at the remaining Fvaris clansmen, "The Centerland soldiers are coming with me so I''d advise against taking hasty actions or when we return the name of this city might become Liu Enclave. For once, your dowager owes explanations."


    \tOrison turned to Nadir and Calix as Elder Liu had the undead elf open a way, sending a target team of controllers and corpse puppets to secure the magic circle room. "Don''t try to back out. Just go. The future of the embassy and post''s safety lies in your cooperation with the other four council members now. Since it''s a wartime scenario and I have no formal military training, I''m empowering Nadir with consul legate authority aside from two orders. Calix remains acting embassy captain and I still control missives until I take administrative leave."


    \tAs Calix went with the first batch of Centerland soldiers, Nadir said, "In the end, you''re not much different than them. You could be leaving us for death."


    \tOrison said, "We were dead men from the moment we stepped on this island. I''ve kept us alive for over two months off the back of my own work. Now it''s your turn to bust a** for awhile. I think I left it much better than it was given to me. Especially since any Domain agreements with the New Fvaris council or whatever it''ll be called in the near future, are a pipe dream now. Or do you disagree?"


    \t"Brazen of you to say so within my earshot, Legate," Elder Liu said.


    \tOrison turned to the elder and said, "Why is that? I know you''re going to kick Centerland''s a** out of here as soon as you''re done with them too. I''m just trying to be honest and insure it''s with them alive instead of ashes in the wind. Isn''t that fair enough?"


    \tThe elder paused and said, "Daggers on the table instead of underneath, is it? That suits me fine. Mutual use until one is no longer needed. Not a bad bargain. Let''s hope the legate coming isn''t stupid and that''s just how it will play."


    \tAs the soldiers and clansmen disappeared in one curtain of light after another, Orison thought, "If you had continued on the path Xia paved you would have been done with us both by spring, now it''ll likely take two years. That''s plenty of ways to drive new wedges and obstacles all over the place."


    \tSeeing Xia''s revealed hand, it was no surprise that in a couple of minutes members from both Progressive clans came knocking on his door while Orison prepared a stack of missives he planned on sending off tomorrow at the trade post.


    \t"Legate Cantrip, sorry to interrupt but our elders are trapped on the islands and they''ve already had incidents of threatening transmissions. With the little support they have, it would be impossible for them to hold on without supplies and boats would take too long," a woman nearly as old as Xia looked, said.


    \tSighing, Orison took out the last teleport scroll and said, "On this is the key to the the island circles. Either use it to send some people and supplies or get a teleport specialist to copy the configuration. If you''d like to rely on Elder Liu''s generosity, perhaps he''d use the slave''s last dying moments to give aid."


    \tJudging by the sour looks on their faces, it would be a hard choice of who got reinforcement and supplies. Taking a little pity on them, Orison advised them to send double to the Speaker of the Left''s island. Water current was with the flow on her side and a boat could be sent between in under an hour. They already knew that but having someone point it out saved them precious time in argument. He also told them that time was of importance and when finished they should have the circles dismantled to avoid retribution.


    \tThe old hedge witch walked over and rubbed Orison''s cramping shoulders as she said, "Time and time again they turn to you for help and then plot actions in the dark that would bring you harm. Have you grown to hate us?"


    \tOrison sighed and shook his head. "They bank on the last action I''ve done as being the last use I have. At the end of the day all of you are just trying to reclaim your home and survive. Treating one stranger honorably isn''t worth anything in the face of greater chances of survival and prosperity. Now, don''t get me wrong. I''m no saint and I''m holding personal grudges here. It''s just that I can understand. A lot of lives count on this city working out."


    \tThe old woman smiled, showing off a set of false ceramic teeth that must have cost a fortune for a poor lady. "Then, to balance up all that ingratitude, let me show you what I found behind that hideous self portrait you stole from the Domain suite. Maybe it will brighten your mood some and show you that not all of us are ungrateful wretches no matter how Abyss bent on survival we are."


    \tWith a word to be careful, she peeled back a corner of the portrait''s backing to reveal two tightly rolled scrolls and a single sheet of vellum that looked like a map. Activating spirit sight, Orison saw that the scrolls were more teleport scrolls but with two separate choices of destination for one, far from each other by the math in them. The sheet of vellum, when seen through spirit sight revealed those destinations to be the Domain''s and Northland''s colleges along with a secret storage facility which was the only destination for the first scroll and only if one had saw the vellum to fill in it''s coordinates spot.


    \tOrison may not be capable enough yet to do the whole spell himself but he could certainly fill in the missing math. While trying to remove the vellum, it flared up into smoke and ash, removing any chance of Orison reverse engineering the academy formation sequences for future scrolls. The scroll that contained them was warded against such a use as well.


    \tOrison sighed wistfully and said, "Why me and not Fvaris after I was gone? I''m certain Xia will bounce back. I haven''t done much but cut off her plan to toss me aside for the opportunity to open trade with the Domain."


    \tThe old woman cackled and said, "What reason has she given YOU to do anything for her? That woman has made more promissory notes to the common people than her bony backside can cover more than once, all the while waiving the reputation of the Fvaris Clan''s golden scales of fairness. Young Cantrip, she would have watched the fisherman and farmers she couldn''t use starve with cold indifference while putting a finger on that scale to keep it looking even.


    \t"You made sure we would have something to eat through this fall and winter. Believe that the little people around here will remember you long after these large clans have forgotten. Pretty speech made, I''m also certain YOU won''t forget a favor and let an old woman mooch off you during her waning years. You''re even leaving me a strapping lad to keep me company on the lonely road to your house. I''ve not grown so old I can''t tell which side of the biscuit has the honey on it."


    \tOrison said, "Bet your boots... Pretty sentiments made, I''m hoping an old healer can help said strapping lad untangle the knots in his heart and head along the way. He has wounds no magic I know can heal. A bit of responsibility to shoulder, some elder''s wisdom and a road to shed his old life on sounds like a good recipe for recovery to me...


    \t"Oh, one last thing. If Calix can''t appreciate your presence or Nadir lets this place fall to the Abyss in a hand basket, feel free to leave early. The last stretch of your journey''s going to land on the edge of mid fall so if the weather turns bad early, wait it out in Widow''s Weal at the bottom of the pass."


    \tUncomfortable or just unaccustomed to being fretted over, Medea said, "Well, get on then. No one can miss you if you''re not gone."

 48 OEW

    \tEvening fell fast while the group made their way to the trade post. Unlike the expeditious retreat from weeks earlier, the return was painfully slow. Two real horses with real horse needs were carting four children, four elven guards and three adult non-combatants. Gan was becoming antsy about catching up with Morrel which made Orison nervous in turn. Whatever Morrel was doing in the sink hole, he''d passed out of Gan''s ability to sense.


    \tOrison found himself in a catch 22. The guards would not be well received at the trade post''s inn but he didn''t feel it was safe for a Fvaris escapee and two additional young men with little ability to defend themselves to go there without protection. That left Orison having to escort them so he could use his name and reputation to insure decent treatment. Leaving Morrel to dangle in his predicament was starting to eat at the young mage, however.


    \tRight around the time Orison was going to tell them about the secret hermit cave and let them camp there for the night, a risky endeavor he wanted to avoid with children and the Bastet man with a bad leg, the first batch of soldiers returning from the Liu Clan raid started galloping their way up. Before Orison could even start to feel relief, he noticed that nearly half had serious wounds. In a five minute round of cleaning and slapping a ''tide over'' heal, Orison explained that he had a friend that might be in peril. He told the soldiers that if they allowed his group to rest on post with them, he''d return after he retrieved his friend and help the post healer finish the job.


    \tOrison and Gan rushed off, testing the very limits of Enbarr''s capabilities. What had Orison''s guts in a knot was the knowledge that if anything happened on either end of the equation he found himself balancing, someone important to him was going to be feeling the loss in a heavy and possibly grudging way. If Ruolan was recaptured by her clan, then all Morrel was doing would be for nothing and he''d not have much of a chance to reclaim the girl who Morrel''s seed was in the early stages of taking hold in. If something happened to Morrel then Gan would hold serious grudge against Orison''s delayed response insuring that Orison''s guilt would have it''s best friend, blame, to keep it company.


    \tAlong the way, a sudden minute trickle of pure, unstructured miasma appeared in his space. Such an event almost made Orison''s mind blank as he realized that the Danann Key went to Rithus'' daughter, Lithus, to consume the wished into existence key that was like it''s parent. When Orison tried to think if there was anything he had that was made by an elf and imbued with the miasma, the only he could think of was Morrel, which he immediately threw out of his head. As he turned to think of the best way he could use the ''cup of chaotic potential'', his spiritual sub-mind took up the task.


    \tOf all the possibilities, Orison wanted one that could benefit all of them but had no real hope of such a little amount being able to do much of anything. His spiritual sub-mind, Beta, disagreed entirely. His mind''s eye had a fleeting daydream picture of Beta in a construction worker''s uniform, spreading a thin layer of mortar between two bricks with the word ''wishes'' stamped on them. Once he pushed the two bricks together, four other sets of bricks stuck together too. Orison saw the analogy and agreed, allowing the sub-mind to take control of the miasma. Whatever Beta was going to do with it was on a level that a mortal mind would have to warp itself unhealthily to follow.


    \tNot too far from the sinkhole, Orison had to dismount from Enbarr because his mind was getting fuzzy as his magic reserve became active and his body started warming into a low grade fever. There was only so much of the potential locked away behind a ''year''s worth of age appropriate training'' that could be used. Once all the holes were filled, the rest just laid dormant. He couldn''t follow the changes that had been made because they were done on too small a scale but once connected and tweaked the two training wishes suddenly had an immense amount of new potential growth directions. A domino effect of small-to-large scale changes was catalyzed but the time it would take to finish would be measured in real years moving forward.


    \tIn theory, Orison should have felt nothing but the rush of pressure against the new outlets for the dammed up potential pushed against those channels in a dangerous way. To alleviate that pressure, some had to be shunted across the subtle connections between himself and the other four people of this world who had been changed by his miasma as well. As the surging tide of potential broke over and through those connections, Orison felt them become damaged and weakened. He didn''t feel that this was a bad thing, over all. It simply meant that future changes and growth he underwent wouldn''t influence Morrel, Gan, Rithus and Duran any longer. They would be the complete masters of their own ''keys'' from now on.


    \tA dim illumination of understanding was brewing in Orison''s intuition from this event. He believed that the ''dark night of horrors'' was, in some ways, like what he''d just done with the connections. It belatedly dawned on him that every time he found a new node of miasma, echoes of his first wish would be able to create more nodes like a spreading infection. The more nodes, the greater chance of finding ones that were near a source of energy that could be consumed and that cycle could potentially continue until the world became consumed.


    \tKnowing that the world had a will that expressed itself through it''s own laws much like the structure that Orison had, it had most likely gathered all the nodes to one place and shunted them to Orison through the banishing ritual the old man voice had enacted. He felt that the world would have destroyed him outright if it had found a way but Orison also represented a chance for this world to harvest a great deal of energy that it normally wouldn''t have access to as well, such as the power generated from the Abyss gate he had closed and the ''star well'' the old man voice had spoke of. It was cold and mercenary but the world took a calculated risk. If not for Morrel''s insight, the world would have been able to use it''s laws to kill them and claim it all.


    \tGan''s worried voice cut through the clearing fog In Orison''s head, "Are you alright, Little Boss? Whatever it was you just did let me feel Morrel on my map again for a small moment and light up a whole bunch of places I''d forgotten I''d been to but it wasn''t worth it if you hurt yourself."


    \tOrison collected himself and said, "I''m fine, Gan. I just had a little surge of insight and made a few small changes. It was a bit much to take in all at once and some spilled over on to you guys. That shouldn''t happen anymore."


    \tGan said, "If that''s the way of it, we need to hurry. Morrel went or was taken somewhere else and the way to that place is under us."


    \tRunning, they were at the sink hole in a couple of minutes.


    \t"I need you to show me the location above ground. We''ll dig from the top because I don''t want us swimming in that water. There''s liable to be things in it that are not safe," Orison said as he looked into the slightly murky depths of the sink hole that smelled faintly of sulfur.


    \tGan guided them as he occasionally stared in the distance with unfocused eyes.


    \t"It''s under here but it''s quite a ways down," Gan said as the both of them surveyed the rather unassuming piece of flatland.


    \tOrison summoned a golem to start digging. Under the clear night sky, a collection of stars overhead glimmered a little more brightly as Orison was inspired to try something he hadn''t thought of before but should have. He attempted to hand the control of the model for the golem to his spiritual sub-mind.


    \tThe model wavered and shook. It seemed like it would collapse altogether for a few seconds but then it started to smooth out. The golem teetered on the brink of falling apart but soon it began stabilizing. It''s actions dropped in efficiency and speed by over half but it looked like Orison''s experiment was a success. It did add some strain to his spiritual endurance, however.


    \tFocusing again, with his mind free of the sustained concentration to control the first golem, he summoned a second one and had it work in concert with the first. Orison was left with a vague impression that with some practice, he could maintain two summons and still be able to cast immediate effect spells. Such a revelation opened up a great deal of possibilities since his main consciousness and the sub-mind could work on completely separate projects and still maintain seamless synchronicity.


    \tThrough his intuitive connection, Orison sensed a pitiable realization. Beta could hold and direct but couldn''t construct a spell model itself, not technically being a part of material existence in any meaningful way. Aside from maintaining and directing an existing model, the only other assistance it could provide would be to overlay a spell with a replica echo that could boost a spell''s effect to some degree but Orison would have to spend some time practicing before that was possible. Since the cost of that boosting echo would add to spiritual exhaustion and come from his space instead of the world, Orison didn''t see himself spending too much time on it in the near future. It was just too expensive in energy resources to be anything but a desperation move.


    \tIt took more time than it would have taken to swim to it, especially since there was a shelf of sedentary rock and pumice under it, but about fifteen minutes later a murky, spot of water was revealed. As the golems widened the hole, Gan and Orison noticed a faint dull red glow deep inside the water. For precaution''s sake, Orison dawned his mask as Gan pulled a slightly tarnished circlet out from his back left side satchel.


    \tBoth of them took a small amount of time to remove all but the essentials and store them in Orison''s space. Out of his ingredients, Orison removed a bowl of fat that the world didn''t change much after sucking away the lion''s share of it''s special essence. It took a little convincing to get Gan to cover himself with it too but Orison explained that there might be hidden poisons and other dangers in the water that even magic would have a hard fixing. The fat would be an added layer of ''armor'' that could keep the water away from their skin.


    \tWith a few last minute warnings that weren''t that necessary and irritated Gan some, especially after the ''drinking a potion underwater'' example was brought up, they dived in, holding onto the heads of the golems. Sinking like stones in a literal sense, there wasn''t a lot of time for them to orient themselves once they hit the bottom in a jarring fashion. With Gan''s eyes tightly shut, it was up to Orison to see what was going on through the protection of his mask.


    \tThe first call the young mage made was to have them stay on the backs of the golems, letting them crawl across the cracked floor of the flooded cavern doing his best to maneuver around the bubbling fissures responsible for the uncomfortably warm condition of the water and a possible indicator of volatile acidic gas. With the slower pace, Gan was going to need to take a ''breath'' of this possibly toxic water before they reached the red edged portal. When the scout could no longer bear to wait, Orison attempted to mitigate the risk by casting create water in front of Gan''s face.


    \tFocusing so hard to get the timing right on the create water spell, Orison''s golem wavered and dissipated, forcing him to swim over to Gan. The exertion caused a great deal of the outer lay of fat, already dissolving due to the heat of the water, to slough off, exposing patches of skin that started to give off a stinging sensation. Despite all the preparations, Orison and Gan were in agony once they crossed through to the other side.


    \tOnce through, Orison didn''t even so much as glance around for safety''s sake. He immediately alternated casts of create water to get the dangerously low PH water off, presto for cleaning off the remaining fat and heal to counteract the painful welts.


    With a little more effort to deal with Gan''s aching throat and lungs, they were finally ready to face new challenges. Both had a moment of gratefulness that nothing was waiting for them on the other side or they would have been in a dire situation.


    \tWhile they geared back up, Gan said, "My map isn''t working right, wherever this is. Good news is that I can get a general sense that Morrel is northeast of here."


    \t"You might not have noticed yet but this place is repressing us more that we usually get from our world pact. Fortunately, fighting it doesn''t feel dangerous. It''s almost like a spiritual arm wrestling match. If you''re strong enough to bend it, the only repercussion is the inevitable bounce back which will make you even more repressed. Exercise your gifts sparingly so you''ll still be able to fight back if things get rough," Orison said as he looked at the landscape that was reminiscent of Lord Whiteriver''s holdings.


    \tOpening his spirit sight to it''s limits, Orison channeled it through the strange energy source finding talent that Find Objective had warped into as they made their way to where Morrel was, according to Gan. At the very edges of the talent''s current radius of sense, he found a strong node that pulsed it''s energy out and pulled it back into itself. It was the direction they were traveling and it was not friendly or even neutral. There was a low grade sense of hostility and desire to cause harm, to feed off them. Connected to that source, directing that mild malevolence was a creature that Orison felt intuitively was like the abyss lord he had once summoned. It was hard to tell from the vague memory of the experience he had with the mad elf cultist but he believed this entity to likely be stronger.


    \tIn the distance, Gan noted that there was a citadel made of marble and brass. He couldn''t see more than vague impressions at their three mile separation but he reported signs of movement within it. Orison was impressed by the revelation. To the young mage, there was little more than a shiny glint available to his mundane sight.


    \t"Little Boss, do you think that you could get the other golem back out? We''re going to have a fight on our hands to get Morrel back I think." Uncomfortable with the odds of their upcoming confrontation, Gan turned to his "Little Boss'' for a chance to provide better odds.


    \tOrison replied, "Give me a chance to experiment with an option. Every thing we do brings more repression with it and we''re still a ways from our goal. I was fortunate enough to bring a maintained golem through with us but I''m not sure how much time or integrity it will have left once we reach our destination. It''s being held by an unconventional method that I haven''t had a chance to get the full measure of. Besides, we''re going to need a more powerful aid to claim Morrel from whatever thing lies at the heart of this...realm, plane or whatever this place is."


    \tTo test a theory, Orison pulled out one of the special gold coins from his space. After he flicked it into the air a couple of times, he stared at it with spirit sight active and noticed no change in it''s held essence. Whatever will governed this place, it had no ability to act freely or it would have gobbled up the coin in an instant if it was sensed. After he received a verification from Gan and checked with his spirit sense, his action had garnered no attention.


    \tOnce he found the best cover this area had available, Orison pulled two more objects from his space. The first was an arrow that he''d never be able to get away with drawing out in Amoril because the will of the world would have erased it. The second item held a heavy chance of being warped to useless. A staff fashioned from an overgrown flower looked more comical than anything but hidden within the gaudy staff was the power to summon abyssal creatures.


    \tOrison handed the arrow to Gan and said, "I''m about to do something really risky. If the thing I call with the staff turns unfriendly and tries to attack us, do your best to hit them wherever has the greatest chance of success. It''s really strong but it''s a single shot. I really hope that won''t be necessary though. It would be a big help in taking down the thing keeping Morrel prisoner."


    \tGan said, "Well, whatever you''re going to do, I hope we can finish this quick. I doubt that Morrel is enjoying his visit right now.


    \t"It''ll be fast and either we''ll have more help or we''ll have a warm up in fighting something more powerful than us on an individual basis."


    \tNot fully convinced of the wisdom of his decision but desperate for more fighting capability than the golem could provide, Orison pointed at the ground around twenty feet away and let a use of the absurd flower staff discharge.

 49 OEW

    \tAmid a scent of exotic floral fragrance and a faint, faraway sound of merriment, an abyssal lord was summoned within a scintillating sphere of crimson and gold. Orison immediately engaged in a battle of wills with the entity, plying the gaudy staff''s enchantments against the mostly human looking monster for advantage. Unlike the first time he had dared to draw a being from such a place, the young mage had a substantial wealth of knowledge and solid casting experience.


    \t"You again, mortal? Has time and insanity brought you to desire the taste of my blade?" the abyssal lord said.


    \tBy coincidence or design, it was the same abyssal denizen that Orison had summoned to face the elf cultist with.


    \tOrison smiled benignly, "It seems that fate has given me a second chance to a** f*** your free will, elite mob trash."


    \tThe dark entity fought against the mystical bindings enforced with Orison''s will as it said, "I had two reasons to kill you swiftly, now I have three to kill you slowly."


    \tProjecting saintly compassion as he pushed more spiritual pressure through the eye sore of an artifact, Orison said, "Why don''t you tell me your first two reasons while we wait for your inevitable submission."


    \tTaken by surprise, the abyssal lord now fought on spiritual and mental fronts. Unwilling to split it''s resistance two ways, it conceded the mental. "We felt the will of the one we serve depart, releasing us from our oaths. Those of us with greater ability vied for dominion when you summoned me. I needed to return to the fight as quickly as possible. Your interruption cost me my chance. You also reek of the one we once served."


    \t"We can revisit this a later time but look around you, spawn. Tell me what you see and the opportunity it possesses and let me know if you still feel like killing me or bargaining instead," the young mage offered.


    \tAfter a few seconds of surveying the sub-dimensional realm, the abyss lord said, "A weakened plane I''d have to help you kill the owner of, connected to a low dimensional world would barely make us even. I could accept it as a peace offering."


    \tOrison laughed and said, "Let''s jog and talk. We''ve got some place to be and a seriously unfortunate kidnapper to murder painfully."


    \tAs the two men and a demon made their way to the citadel, the young mage and abyssal lord bargained furiously. Amid myriad stipulations and methods of closing or attempting to open loopholes, the abyss lord unwittingly revealed many pieces of information and even a few secrets of the Greater Abyss and it''s adjacent semi-material planes.


    \tGan watched on in horror, fascination and occasionally in humor as Orison ran mental circles around the soldier demon who''d never had much interaction or experience negotiating with wily mortals. Despite that, the instinctual cunning and hatred of restrictions or rules welling from the very core of this creature born from chaos, insured that the young mage could only accomplish so much with time and the life of a friend on the line.


    \tBy the time that they had reached the citadel or aviary, if the abyssal lord''s words were true, Orison and Rozcherek had reached a mutually unsatisfactory agreement reinforced by fiendish pact ''magic''. Once their safety in cooperation was assured, Orison agreed that after the plane was captured, Rozcherek would be it ruler. In return, Orison and one other of his choosing would receive an equal share of a ten percent tithing for any essence gains greater than at the time of the realm''s claiming. This profit would be reset at each tithing to reflect the new total. With a great deal of wording involved, that essence would be delivered in a way that only bolstered and nourished the recipients without any form of corruption or binding to the plane involved.


    \tThe debate over worship and the ensnaring of mortal souls took up two miles and the majority of their bargaining time. It was also the source of most dissatisfaction for both. It was a necessity for Rozcherek to recruit cultists and obtain spiritual residents for the realm to grow and the best Orison could do is tone the method of gains down from torture to dissolution through pursuits of pleasure and revelry. As a compromise to ensure a softer touch with souls thus obtained, those who lived a life in pursuit of pleasure and gain through methods which spread suffering and misery such as sadists who plied their skills on the unwilling, slavers or dealing in life destroying recreational drugs, those souls could receive the traditional treatment. When Gan, possibly feeling left out, raised the issue of masochists, both demon and Highlander were dumbfounded for a moment before agreeing that those kind should get what they want to the limit that they could bear.


    \tAll conversation ceased when Gan spotted two flying scouts. Roz, nicknamed by Gan to the abyssal lord''s ire, noted in hushed tones that they were a lesser subspecies of succubus incapable of changing gender at will due to mixing with harpies. Individually, he bragged, they could be harvested like grain but in groups they were a problem because even though they weren''t bright they did coordinate well. He also expressed a desire to spare as many of them as possible. When he claimed the plane, they would make for a good set of easily grown subordinates since they weren''t that picky about mate/victims, unlike their ancestors.


    \tNot overly in agreement on sparing the creatures but wanting to avoid as much confrontation snow piling more suppression from the plane on himself and Gan, he pulled out an invisibility scroll with some reluctance. With a ''gather round, children'' gesture, Orison popped the scroll. Since world repression wouldn''t allow him to learn it, as he''d tried once already, it wasn''t a great loss but it still irritated him. Still, he tried to see how this plane allowed the model to form and tried to take in some of the details as they skulked their way in to the main aviary dome.


    \tWhen they finally reached the heart without much difficulty, Gan and Orison attempting to hold back their bile over the smell of offal and rotting flesh to the extremities of the place, the sight that greeted them defied rationality. Out of all the horror scenarios that the two had expected to see, a nightmare harem marathon had not been one of them. The large domed area with perpetual early twilight sun streaming through it''s open pillared top half, illuminated a hellish scene of medieval religious sentiment against fornication. Were it not for the look of senseless misery on Morrel''s face and obvious proof of being bound here against his will, Orison would have raged at the risks and resources it had taken to reach them as quickly as they had.


    \tWhispers of a demon said, "Feeling some jealousy or admiration for that man? It''s apparent that this aviary has suffered some form of mass population reduction recently. They are going to use him to replenish some of their numbers and then they are going to eat him...See the larger one to the back? That''s their queen. She''s keeping him ensorceled and coaxing more vitality out of him. He must have had quite the unusual amount of hardiness for an elf, to last this long."


    \tThe plan for Morrel''s rescue had never included the abyssal lord who would only agree to capture and wrest control of the plane from it''s leader, even if they had asked. Orison''s only recourse would be to allow the demon to draw the queen away and aid the abyssal lord in her destruction while trying to kite the rest until the demon succeeded in claiming the realm. Realm reclamation was almost an instinct to Roz''s kind and there was no chance of Orison coming close to scratching the surface of doing such a thing himself. That was one of the things that weakened his bargaining abilities with Roz and it was what took their best chances at open combat away as well since the demon wouldn''t lift a finger voluntarily for anything else until this realm was his.


    \tAs Rozcherek slunk his way towards the inner sanctum, Gan said, "I wondered why there were so few creatures patrolling. Between what Nub did to flood the outside and the rest in here fighting over Morrel, we could have nearly stomped our way in with chain mail on and not been discovered."


    \tOrison quietly hissed, "Focus, Gan. When the big girl over there goes for Roz, you need to pin her to a pillar with that arrow. I have a feeling she''s going to move fast when she does and you only have one shot before it turns into a fight for our lives."


    \tDark lines formed on Gan''s face as he said, "No pressure or anything, right?"


    \tSensing that his golem was about to collapse outside, Orison improvised a little by having it slam into an outer pillar. Seeing all the leather winged harpies raise their heads and swivel them in the direction of the collapsed golem in perfect sync was unnerving. The ease and quickness it took between a screech from the queen and half the number milling about to split off in a speedy ''v'' formation to fly through the pillars for reconnaissance also made Orison''s heart drop to his stomach. He finally understood Roz''s unintended praise of their abilities but considered ''coordinate well'' to be a massive understatement.


    \tAn unintended side-effect of his impromptu attempt to cut some of the numbers in the room down was a heightened sense of alertness causing the remaining ones to begin hunting around the immediate vicinity and looking at Morrel with anticipatory hunger that no longer looked sexual in any way. As Gan gave Orison a ''see what you did'' look, The queen let out a rage filled shriek and recalled all the minions in the area to precede her through the inner chamber which Orison assumed the Queen used as her nest, likely to cover the heart of the plane that lied underneath it.


    \tThe other half dozen disappeared into the central chamber before the queen took one last glaring look around and headed that way herself. For a half second, Orison considered double-crossing the abyss lord. The way was cleared and the spreading six flying ''sisters'' outside might be avoidable. For good or ill, Gan removed their chance to back out.


    \tWith an uncanny twist, the queen almost completely avoided the arrow that gave her a ripping nipple piercing but the reality bending essence within the arrow activated it''s effect, expressing itself as eviscerating lesions that spread out like a fractal picture made from cut wounds. Her death was so sudden and complete that her minions didn''t even notice until the smell of warm blood and viscera filled the air. In spite of his better judgment, Orison opened a paralyze scroll on the returning ''suck-you-peas''.


    \tGan and Orison both rushed over to Morrel. While Orison pulled out a silver dagger and started sawing at the rope ties around Morrel''s wrists, Gan pulled out the dagger''s twin and got to work at the ankles. No sooner had they accomplished that then a collection of anxious chirps and angry shrieks echoed from above. Orison tossed one each of the next to best healing, stamina recovering and magic restoring potions he had at Gan before summoning a golem for cover, enduring the backlash of returning repression from the plane.


    \tOrison bellowed, "Roz, you''ve got a ten count before I start murdering your freaky flying hookers!... Sh*t, make that three!" ending in a squeak as a talon reached past the golem.


    \tThe attack that came from a dive bomber who sacrificed a wing with a loud crunching sound to reach him, was only three inches away from ending his life or barring that, his lineage. Upping the discomfort of the repression to barely endurable, Orison opened a kinetic shield for three count before opening a ''hell ball'' scroll consisting of a swirling storm of fire, ice and electricity magic.


    \tOrison shouted in rage, "Stop fucking around or I''m going to summon another abyss lord and shunt your delaying a** back to where you came from you loophole lawyering c*ck sucker!"


    \tThe young mage realized that Rozcherek might have seized the will of the plane but he wasn''t technically the ruler until he declared himself. Until then, he could sit back and watch while these creatures murdered Orison and his companions and be free of the tithing agreement if nothing else. To get the fence sitter to move Orison pulled the staff back out and began focusing his will through it.


    \tIn a panic, Roz, who had been leaning on the alcove frame to the inner sanctuary while watching the show from behind the paralyzed half-dozen, immediately started speeding through declaring himself. Finally relaxing a bit, Orison started slumping to the floor when one of the winged hybrids who''d been burned, frozen and shocked beyond ability to reason but not dead like the five others, lunged and buried her claws into Orison''s ankle, nearly severing his foot as it dragged itself towards him.


    \tIn a howl of rage and pain, Orison stabbed her in the face. As Gan came to kick the mostly dead creature away, it swiped in it''s death throw, knocking off Orison''s mask and slicing through skin before splitting his left eye.


    His world became white hot pain but through it, Orison knew that the demon had stopped reciting and was ''generously'' removing the paralysis of the other six creatures still not technically under the abyss lord''s control.


    \tUnder Orison''s current situation, the only reason why any kind of thought was possible at all had more to do with his spiritual sub-mind than anything else. Another spell was now completely out of the question and with their exposure, Gan their only whole and functioning member, they were going to die. On a desperate flash of insight, Orison pulled out a soul crystal and smashed it into the ground.


    \tUnconcerned about the shards piercing his hand, he croaked through the pain and blood loss. "I call for my first tithe, Rozcherek. Hear me and heed our pact."


    \tRozcherek may not be responsible for creatures on this plane that weren''t aware, only by technicality in this case, he was the ruler of this plane but their agreement for tithe was based on him controlling the plane, not ruling it. Once the demon payed tithe, however, the technicality that allowed him to watch passively as the leathery winged women murdered them would become too thin and the abyss lord would suffer dire consequences for disregarding the pact.


    \tAs one creature reeled backward with an arrow in the eye, another lunged towards Gan causing the abyss lord to roar his displeasure which sent the winged women skittering for the shadows of the pillars. Rozcherek stalked forward menacingly, causing Gan to draw the silver sword at his side. Orison placed a weak restraining hand on Gan''s leg, pointing at his own.


    \t"Put a tourniquet on my leg for a second before I bleed out. If you shoot him then I''ll have to buy your freedom," Orison said hoarsely with a dry mouth.


    \tRozcherek said, "Well played but he isn''t the only one here you are concerned with. As the ruler of this plane, that elf behind you is my property."


    \tOrison said, "He''s a member of my party in good standing, Roz. I asked for safety and protection for me and companion. Well guess what, Gan is my companion and Morrel here is also my companion. And before you try to bring out a tired singular and plural argument, I now have a banish scroll in my hand which will not harm you in any way but will keep you gone enough for us to leave. But if you make me use it, I''m going to collapse the entrance to this realm on my way out, reducing it''s usefulness to you by an extraordinary degree. Once again, without hurting you or the plane in any way."


    \tRozcherek grumbled. "At least I''ve had the pleasure of witnessing you become a half blind cripple."


    \tThrowing his voice down into a low, emotionless boom, Orison allowed the full force of his spirit to blaze through his good and ruined eye as he said, "What does a fragile clay vessel matter to me. Of all who once heeded me, I chose you but you disappoint... Await my return and displeasure, disgraced servant." Reeling it all back in, Orison turned to Gan and said, "Did the big guy borrow me again? What did he have me say this time?"


    \tGan spit and spluttered, unsure of what to say.


    \tOrison patted Gan''s shoulder and said, "It doesn''t matter. I''ll live, what, a hundred or so years if I''m really lucky. I''ll long be dust before he comes back so I could care less what he does in two or three hundred."


    \tRozcherek said balefully over a hint of hysteria, "Oh, I''ll make sure you live long enough to face him with me. Find out what I can do to earn graces or you''ll beg to die and not be able, mortal."


    \tOrison sneered as he tossed out close to twenty black soul crystals that didn''t even match snuff with the dust of his space''s inner orbiting ring. Orison noted offhandedly that there was a larger second ring of lesser quality crystal and dust forming since he started taking in new souls again. Low dimensional souls were of next to no value to him any longer. But any kind of soul material had value in an Abyss tied realm as the parameter worked off of a different system of measurement that Orison wasn''t even going to begin an attempt to understand.


    \t"You can start by making this into something useful so I and the ''other one'' can start earning some useful tithes," Orison said, gloating internally while trying to ignore the excruciating pain and anemia.


    \tRozcherek looked at the crystals with a mixture of pleasant surprise and worry. Not even Orison understood the significance of producing ''larva seeds'' but Roz''s attitude did a 180 flip as he apologized for the deceptions and ill treatment, going so far as to order the remaining ''suck-you-peas'' to clean out a place for Orison and his group to recuperate before departing. Not believing the demon''s act for a second, he just took what was offered and attempted to stay strong til he could finally work on repairing the damage.

 50 OEW

    Taking advantage of being out from underneath the thumb of Amoril, Orison whipped out a ''best'' mortar/pestle and distiller while he made a max effort attempt to reattach his foot while fixing his eye. Between putting himself back together again, guiding Gan in nursing Morrrel and making some more ''kewl'' alchemy products, two hours slipped by. By the time Morrel was up and itching to leave the house of his r*pists, Orison had done all he could for himself while replenishing his stock of need to have elixirs and unguents.


    While they walked towards the ''thin spot'' to Amoril, Gan said, "I don''t think he really couldn''t find your pinky toe. And after all he did, he could have given some kind of compensation."


    Orison sighed, "All of it''s a mix of lies and truth. Anything an abyssal denizen offers has it''s barbs and costs, even gifts. Not offering anything is more sincere."


    Morrel absorbed the conversation but didn''t say anything.


    In concern, Orison asked, "Any lingering effects or problems I can help with?"


    Morrel grunted a negative.


    In a low voice, Gan said, "It''s probably been rough. Let''s just give him some time first."


    Morrel said somewhat curtly, "There''s nothing wrong with my ears or any other part of my head. I have nothing I want to say until we are well beyond the borders of this accursed place and neither should either of you. Every small part you share increases your connection to it and the one who controls it."


    Whether they believed Morrel or only saw no harm in humoring the old elf, the rest of the walk passed in silence. With nothing left to distract him from the growing ache in his ankle and foot, Orison turned attention to his damaged eye. What started out as a hope that the reason it didn''t return to full function was because of the planar will''s suppression turned into curiosity as some form of change was occurring within it. He wasn''t sure yet what that change would completely entail but he could already see how his spiritual sight was compensating through it, giving him a somewhat more complete view that plain sight alone. There were some obvious drawbacks but Orison now put his hopes in the changes rather than getting back what he lost.


    Once they reached the portal and started stripping to have Orison pack away the equipment that wouldn''t fare well to exposure with the acidic water at the bottom, Gan winced in sympathy at the sight of the young mage''s still rather mangled looking foot and missing toe. Orison shrugged in indifference as he pulled out another bowl of fat. Morrel was midway to handing the mask back to Orison that the young mage had forgotten about in his rush to alleviate pain.


    Midway through the action, Morrel froze and said, "Stop, what are you about to do with that!?"


    Confused, Orison said, "I was going to apply it to stop the water outside from eating off our faces and tender bits. What of it?"


    Morrel''s eyes shined with a greedy gleam as he explained, "The will of the world took the creature this came from out of existence. I''ll assume you know what it is but obviously are not aware of what it can do. It has the power to do what temple priests charge hundreds if not thousands of gold to do. If you still have it, mix in the green sacrament that I gave you and use some on your foot... Some, fool. What about some means almost a quarter of it!?"


    With burning ears and irritation, Orison scraped most of what he had taken out back into the bowl of fat that had a faint mint color due to the ''aloe gel'' and rubbed it on his foot. It started as a faint itch that quickly turned to a burning sensation that had Morrel holding him down to keep him from stopping what was happening out of alarmed instinct. After two minutes the pain lessened back down to a deep itch as he looked to see that his foot had been relatively restored.


    Gan said, "Hey, Little Boss. Rub some in your eye!"


    Both Orison and Morrel looked at the scout like he''d lost his mind before the old elf said, "It should never be used on the eye or the head until skin covers the area that is desired to heal least the soul of the beast that lives within the fat would possess the person."


    Orison thought, "Meh, close enough but I doubt the risks of aggressive magic steroids would make much sense or be entirely correct either. I wonder what he would do if he knew I wasted a whole batch of it to get here. It looks like Gan knows not to say anything." Out loud, he said, "Any words of wisdom to share on protecting ourselves from-"


    Morrel produced an oily substance that made Orison think of the better smelling bug repellents as the young mage cut himself off with a sigh, "Aside from attracting certain butterflies this plant''s only use is warding off blood sucking bugs. Sadly, it has no recorded affect against vampires. A more economic choice, don''t you think."


    Gan grumbled, "It''s not like everyone has a garden hiding in their a** to just pull things out of."


    Trying hard not to laugh and draw Morrel''s ire back to himself as he coated himself in the floral smelling oil, Orison said, "Why don''t you take a second to see if you can summon out a satchel like Rithus does while we lather ourselves. You''ve managed to keep from doing things that would repress you here. A little experiment or two to see what you can do before Amoril put''s the shackles back on might produce some surprises."


    In the scant minutes before they passed through the thin spot, Gan discovered he could summon out a great deal many things he understood well, including a horse, but none of them had any additional supernatural features and he could only bring out one thing at a time, big or small. He also discovered that his map could be taken out as well before the repression became too much. Orison was certain that the map was Gan''s conduit and likely had many uses still left to discover but unlike Orison''s orb, for many possible reasons, Gan''s map was completely rejected by the world.


    Without looking back at the plane none of them had the desire to see again, the three swam upwards with vigor and intensity. After yet another round of rinsing and cleaning they geared back up. Emulating his golem trick, Orison summoned two Enbarrs, glad to be out from under the crushing repression of semi-material plane. He doubted he was the only one.


    Making haste to return, Orison filled Morrel in on the happenings the old elf had missed.


    Morrel said, "I had thought that in the end you would need a decisive way to cut yourself free from Fvaris. What''s left to be seen is if the dowager will allow it or if she''ll pursue for even greater loss to everyone involved. Not that she''ll want that but she might see you as worth trying to crack or making a bet that you''ll concede first due to still having not gutted yourself of non-essentials to statecraft like compassion, for instance."


    Orison thought about it and said, "That''s...probably true."


    In response to what Morrel said, Orison swung their track toward Nub''s shack. Orison hoped that the vampire''s business for the night was wrapped up early enough to help with his spontaneous endeavor. Fortunately, on this night they didn''t run into any patrols and drew near the cabin without burning too much extra time.


    A familiar female obsidian elf with faintly luminescent red eyes greeted, "I see you''ve brought yet another guest to our humble home away from home. How much can we expect this one to keep silence?"


    Wondering what had a bee in the girl''s bonnet, Orison said, "He aid''s in keeping the world''s silence. Our secrets are trivial in comparison."


    The woman said sharply, "Your opinion only and not everything is about the grand scale. For the sake of my..." Eyeing Morrel darkly she continued, "Father, I won''t be rude but this had better be of importance if you don''t desire to be ran off for your own good."


    Catching the not so subtle hint of larger activities in the works, Orison pulled out a case of premixed ''blood plus'' and began, "If people are hopping I hope this will help ease some needs to get you through... busy times."


    "Provisions are always welcome but why haven''t you found a way to make yourself easier to reach? Was si-father''s hint of handing you three bottles sometime back not a clear enough hint that he may need YOUR help?" the vampire said, obviously emotional.


    Orison magically transcribed a copy of a page out of his journal, a rough outline of a protean constitution he''d drafted while thinking of things he thought the world wouldn''t mind as much based off of experience and experiment.


    He handed the copy to Morrel and said, "I know how fast you could run if we weren''t holding you back. If you''re feeling anxious about returning to your girl then no need to wait. This lady''s...father... has done a great deal for me so if he''s in need I should see what I can do to help... That sheet is the key to a bipartisan system that wouldn''t require a neutral house to keep the balance between Progressive and Revivalist. Spread it around after you get back. Let''s see how willing the old b*tch is to crack me if squaring of with me might crack her."


    Morrel didn''t so much as look at the sheet or mutter a word before he dismounted and took off like a dart. The young mage had a distracting thought that if Morrel could run any faster it would start to look cartoonish, assuming he wasn''t chasing you, then a person might wonder what the world had against them. And for once, they might actually have a legitimate reason to think that.


    The woman visibly defrosted after hearing Orison''s words. "If you mean what you said then we could use some help. For whatever reason, sire warmed up to Gan at first sight which might have given you the mistaken impression that he''s easy going but that''s just a mask. In reality he''s meticulous and rigid in conducting affairs. Before we move on to other matters, I''d like for you to know that. He would not have been happy to greet another of your crew so readily but then again, many of the ways he''s interacted with you have broken the norm."


    Not much less concerned than Morrel about the state of affairs back at the trade post, Orison said, "What can you share with me about the situation. You might have a specific way I can help in mind but if you let me know what''s allowable there might be more or better ways I can provide assistance."


    She froze, an eerie state to see a vampire in as they could do it so thoroughly, then said, "The pieces of jade that sire fenced brought a lot more attention to his channels than he had anticipated. We have no idea why but certain old ghosts have bent a large amount of resources and manpower to trace it back to it''s origins."


    Orison said, "Point them at Fvaris Clan and mention a scroll. It''ll be like a magic trick how fast the heat will be removed from you. The last I know, the scroll in question is in the or a Fvaris Clan ancestor''s hand."


    She became thoughtful, mumbling to herself so low that Orison couldn''t understand what she was saying before returning to a normal volume. "How sure are you that this scroll is their true target?"


    Orison sighed. "Ninety-eight point six sure. At least, as far as Xia knew, the ancestors in general were looking for the missing link to an old origin or a pre-recorded history bloodline responsible for a lot of the cultural anomalies to be found in obsidian elf words and traditions that don''t match the rest of the elves. I warn you not to investigate yourself. The world itself is against the discovery and dissemination of that knowledge."


    She asked, "Do you know?"


    Orison said, "I literally can''t answer that, which should be all the answer you need."


    The vampire said, "The irony behind that to a people who revere ancestry is almost too much of a misery to endure. So the old ghosts are seeking their own destruction? Then I hope they find what they seek."


    Orison shook his head and said, "Don''t be so quick to stick with that point of view. There are hidden threats in this island that can easily be thwarted or contained by them that would result in large losses or outright failure for the living. Of course, I''m not going to cry over it either. In the long term, the aid they offer versus their demands are too unbalanced. Spiritual remnants of any shade are generally only interested in the past and this is a time of desperate fighting for renewal. A dangerous time for ghosts to be calling the shots."


    She snorted. "Right now, I''m worried about myself and my sire. The rest of the world will have to wait until I have the peace to decide whether I care or not."


    Trying to contain his impatience, Orison asked, "Alright, there''s your long term solution. What do you think I can do to help now?"


    The vampire woman who still showed no intention of revealing her name said, "Kill, maim, mislead or use your best judgment. Here''s a copy of the lead investigators that are closing in. The three at the top are closest."


    Orison gave the list a dubious look then said, "Where is Nub right now or how close is he to returning home?"


    The woman looked distraught as she said, "I haven''t seen him in four days. The place where I knew him to be heading last has a cold trail with no further points of interest."


    Orison said, "Do you have something of his that would contain a strong connection with himself sympathetically like a piece of clothing he''s bled or better, some piece of personal equipment he worked ritual magics with."


    She thought for a moment before she went into the cabin. Orison almost left by the time she came out half an hour later with a silver long dagger.


    Handing the blade over, she said, "Sire was practicing one of great-grandsire''s tool creation arts. This was mainly used by him to draw blood from himself. I''m not supposed to be touching those things but if there was a time to break his rules, it''s now."


    Orison handed it to Gan and said, "Can you get a feel? Think of the knife as a compass and his essence remnants on it like a needle for that then see if it works with your unseen ''visual aid''.


    Gan broke out into a light sweat before he said, "I got something. It''s really faint and I have to focus hard, hard enough to make my head throb."


    Gan grabbed a stick after he almost used the long dagger to draw in the dirt, causing the woman to shoot forward and yank it out of his hands. Paying no heed to her scowl, Gan began drawing a rough outline of an area then circling a part of it.


    The vampire looked down at the drawing and exclaimed in fearful agitation, "Seven Sisters standing stone ring! The damned ghosts are going to curse our whole line using him as the sacrifice! I need to leave now, inform the-. Success or failure, I''m satisfied in what you''ve done for us but this isn''t a fight for the proper living like you to involve yourself in."


    As she grabbed a few item''s with a speed he couldn''t quite follow, Orison said, "Wait!"


    Mentally crossing his fingers, Orison pulled out the minty bowl of fat and then a scroll that he quickly smeared a finger of the fat across as fast as he could. The energy primed to dissipate slowed to a crawl.


    Handing the smeared scroll over to her, Orison said, "I don''t know what will be left of this scroll after two or three days but if you use it before then, it''ll create a circle of fire around the user and instill fear in the ''unnaturally alive'' between a twenty to thirty feet area. That includes vampires but it could be useful if you have a mortal to bring along for the ride."


    The woman took the scroll carefully and stowed it away with the same respect one might pay with a grenade that had a loose pin. With a measured nod she turned and sprinted out into the night.


    Gan looked out into the distance she disappeared in and said, "I still don''t think mixing with vampires is a good thing but it''s undeniable Nub''s due some difference."


    Orison left a thinly coded message about his future travel plans on a piece of vellum and tossed it into a bowl on the table before leaving. Unfortunately, he wasn''t able to get the help he''d hoped for from Nub but in turn, perhaps what he''d provided instead might save the vampire''s life ensuring a continued ally in the future. Since that was the case, Orison made a few more copies of his proposed bipartisan constitution that required the common citizen to hold their leaders accountable but robbed those leaders of no more power than the enforcement of a few basic tenants no leader would be dumb enough to publicly claim as unfair. On his way back to the trade post, Orison stopped at three directional signs along the way and stuck them on.


    As they neared their destination, Gan suddenly asked him to stop in a mild panic."Little Boss, there''s trouble up ahead and I''d lay good coin it''s waiting on you. They''re looking awfully impatient though."

 51 OEW

    \tScout and mage crept stealthily towards the trade post. Orison realized that he''d been letting his boots ingrain lazy habits again because now that they''d been repaired after one of them had a third sheared off, destroying the muffle enchantment, he had to actually try to move silently and it wasn''t as easy as Morrel''s training should have made it. Still, he was good enough not to subtract from Gan''s effort which would do for the time being.


    \tGetting closer, the young mage could now see what the scout had been talking about before on the road. A thin line of obsidian elves created a barricade between the post and a slightly more substantial group facing towards the post with weapons drawn. The thin line of friendly elves looked like their resolve was beginning to waver, however. Orison had a sneaking suspicion that when the friendly ones moved it would be the signal of an attack or from the looks of the activity that could be seen from where Gan and Orison was, a surrendering of whatever the elves had come for.


    \tGan said, "I can see them from here. Morrel and his girl are standing on the gate wall looking like they''re staring down a firing squad and the soldiers on either side of them look like they''re keeping an eye on them rather than being buddies."


    \tOrison had to get Gan''s help but by the skin of their teeth they managed to get past the guards and into the post. It worried Orison that if they could do it, so could others. Pushing that to the back of his mind, Orison strode to the front in plain view and even though a few of the newer faces looked ready to jump him, a few familiar ones warned them off. Whether old or new, no one looked happy.


    \tIn a spot of humor, Captain Nadir did a double take when orison showed up beside him before the captain was aware of his presence. "We''ve held out for half the night, Orison. They''re going to think we''ve been harboring you to delay with you just showing up like this."


    \tOrison sighed. "How about telling me what''s going on and I''ll start cleaning the trash as usual, Captain. I believe I''ve demonstrated I have the ability so give me some benefit of the doubt until after I screw up the first time."


    \tNadir raged quietly. "Damn it, Legate. That''s what I''ve been doing for half the night. I''ve all but burned up the goodwill and patience everyone has for you and me both... Those out there with weapons pointed are Fvaris and the ones standing in the way are the Grenada. Speaker of the Left has lent what little she could but I wouldn''t be surprised if there is a Revivalist clan out there waiting to reclaim the spoils we just earned from them... You have five minutes to fix this before I toss the whole lot of you out to the wolves."


    \tOrison said, "I hear you but what are they actually here for?"


    \tLooking like he would pass out from repressed anger, Nadir explained, "Fvaris Clan claimed you stole one of their maidens along with holding the responsibility of three deaths of clan members in a terrorist act. They want to take you, Morrel and the girl back as prisoners and claim the rest of your remaining people as slaves in compensation."


    \tOrison walked up to the wall and it was obvious within seconds that the Fvaris clan had no intentions of letting him so much as speak. They wanted what they wanted and they were going to scream and even kill if they needed to get it. Since that was the case, Orison wrote some information on the back of the two ''constitution'' papers and threw them down to the line of obsidian elves below. After the leader of the barricade read it, he looked up at Orison and gave a thumbs up before turning around and had his people draw their weapons, pointing them at the Fvaris Clan.


    \tThe present Fvaris elder looked stunned and confused at the Progressive clan''s sudden change from peaceful protesters to actively defending with force.


    \tIt took him a moment to get the hot blood he whipped up died down enough to speak with Grenada''s elder. "What''s the meaning of this? You told me you were here to make sure no one was harmed that shouldn''t be and you would not interfere beyond negotiation. That negotiation happened hours ago. We''re ready to end this now that the murderer is here. What are we waiting for now?"


    \tThe Grenada elder said, "Don''t speak to me, speak to the Legate and you''ll know."


    \tAfter bantering and another round of raised threats and closer inching aggression, the Grenada elder didn''t move and the post didn''t hand Orison over. With no other choice than to let Orison speak or continue this stalemate, the elder finally conceded. "I''ll listen to you for a thirty count and after that, if you don''t get your deceitful ass down here then the blood of Grenada will be on your hands too."


    \tOrison calmly and loudly stated, "There is a reason the Revivalists are not with you today when they''d normally be chomping at the bits to shred us with you. Your own dowager is ready to sacrifice you as well as everyone else here to make up for her mistakes. EVEN YOUR OWN ANCESTORS ARE ABOUT TO FACE THE OTHERS'' WRATH AND YOU ARE HERE SHOUTING FOR ME!? Get your sorry a**es back to your city and start offering explanations to the other four clans for the dowager''s betrayal or THERE WILL NO LONGER BE A FVARIS CLAN!"


    \tIt was tough trying to talk through the rising and falling tide rabble rousing clan members but he managed, though his throat was a little raw.


    \tThe Fvaris elder shouted, "With what proof!?"


    \tOrison started to explain but once again the rest of the clan started shouting chants and denouncements so he stopped and turned to Nadir. "Captain, send out half your troops to reinforce clan Grenada. You know what happened. You know that Fvaris only needs one small victory to start turning tables or one small defeat to begin their topple. If you want them to fix things with the Domain and have a sword hanging over your''s and your soldier''s heads for the rest of the time you''re here then don''t."


    \tNadir turned to face Orison and said, "You know, I no longer like you anymore."


    \tOrison replied benignly, "I no longer care how much of an ungrateful wretch you are any longer either."


    \tThe captain scoffed and after ordering his troops to reinforce, he said, "I''m not the one who fails to see what others do for him."


    \t"We can have another session of drinks about how our feelings don''t even matter after this is done, Captain," Orison said bitterly.


    \tNadir nodded and said, "You''re going down there with me and as soon as my first man falls I''m going to cut off your head myself."


    \tOrison shared his agreement and added, "Yes, let''s burn together for actually expecting you and your men to do what they were sent here for... Gan, Morrel, sweep the post for assassins and if I die during this, use this scroll to get the two of you and as many of the rest of our people as you can, out of here. This is the coordinates set I want you to use and the circle is ten feet in diameter."


    \tGan protested but Orison cut him off with an order to take care of Droya after getting a hold of Venito.


    \tOnce Nadir and Orison walked out of the walls, the Fvaris clan had reached a fever pitch and was pushed as close to the Grenada line as they could without getting poked while a few suicidal ones were test thrusting at Grenada members.


    \tWith one last try to get the upper hand without resorting to bloodshed, the Fvaris elder said, "Ready to pay for your crimes, murderer?"


    \tWith this one last chance to speak that would last all of five seconds before it resulted in fightin,g Orison said in conversational tones as he flared the full force of spirit behind his eyes, "Xia, in three breaths your clan is going to be gone unless you stop them."


    \tAn elderly woman''s voice resounded, "Stop!"


    \tAn illusion around one of the members to the back wavered and revealed the dowager.


    \tFrom her protection in the back, she said, "You mostly believe that. How?"


    \tOrison replied, "Three breaths until you leave with them or your clan will be gone."


    \tXia waived her clan back and within little more than a second, had a myriad of sustained effects on her as a titan of spiritual mass began manifesting itself while she sneered.


    \tWith one last look at the scenery around Lithus'' husband, who had just used the orb to break into an elven made townhouse, Orison recalled the Danann key to his space. Covertly as possible, he summoned it out with a silently willed command to ''free'' all that made up Xia. Obviously the elves that ''made'' her were no more so in a sifting of ash and spirit reduced to particles, she also was no more. Orison felt a little ill but she had left him with no choice. She wasn''t willing to back down. Maybe, like himself, she couldn''t afford to.


    \tTo recoup a small part of his losses, he halfheartedly lobbed a summoned axe through the dissipating spirit guardian to claim it. The completely disappeared wider second ring had a faint scattering of dust to demarcate it''s borders again. Nearly ten times as much had been taken by the orb. As the Danann Key once again ''ran away'', Orison saw that not only did it plop in front of a nice looking middle aged Northlander woman, he could see she was nursing a sickly little wood elf girl as a young Northlander man paced around with concern and worry.


    \t"A desperate grandmother praying for a miracle is a far cry better than a thief but I''m not willing to commit to that judgment. I did just kill a granny that also was praying for a miracle in her own twisted way." Orison thought as he turned back to the remaining Fvaris clansmen. "I''ll forgive if you depart this very moment. Otherwise, join her."


    \tSeeing that Grenada members were about to join them in their fear, Orison said as calmly as he could, "Stay, friends. The danger has passed and there is much to discuss. Besides, if Elder Fvaris is willing to see reason, I have no further grudge to bear."


    \tOrison didn''t miss the hatred and fear in the younger elves'' eyes as Clan Fvaris turned and walked away with the spirit of a funeral procession. Unfortunately, no amount of veneration would allow Xia to return to them but there was a chance of making a more ideal and impressionable version of her. Orison conceded that faith was a mystery he was far from unraveling.


    \tThroughout the night, Nadir, Orison and the Grenada elder discussed the framework of a constitution Orison had given them. He also explained the rumor he had ''heard in passing'' about a scroll that all the ancestors were looking for that Xia and Clan Fvaris were keeping secret from the rest which is what he had written on the back of the constitution draft. Finally, at the end of a grueling session, Orison told them to pass a message to the Liu Clan that since he had orchestrated the taking of the Dowager''s life in self defense but had taken an obsidian elf''s life none the less, he would exile himself for as long as the truce held.


    \tAs he bid farewell to the Granada Clan people who had ''righteously stood for justice'' with him, he handed a letter of apology to Obsidian Island for the betrayal of their expectations in him. It was nothing more than a backhanded way of leveling a finger at the lying Fvaris clan member who he ''fully shared the blame with'' over the terrible tragedy of the loss of three Fvaris clan members and the currently unknown amount of Domain elves who were ''residing'' underneath the Fvaris compound. Though he expressed sympathy and concern over the Domain families affected by the loss he also expressed '' innocent confusion'' on why they were underground instead of residing in the Domain suite.


    \t"It''s two hours til sixth bell, Captain. I''m still game for that drink if you are," Orison said more in jest than in earnestness.


    \tNadir said, "A fortifying cup or two to start the day I will get no sleep for? Why not?"


    \tOrison followed him and expressed some concern for a possible condition he thought Nadir might have. The captain snorted and made a retort that working with Orison would cause a righteous man to fall into all sorts of damning conditions of deteriorating mental and physical health. The young mage looked back at his life up til that point and had to grudgingly agree that Nadir''s thought had far too much circumstantial evidence for his liking.


    \tSince they were soon to part ways, Orison expressed the will to end their service time together on a note closer to how it began. Seeing no harm in it, Nadir waited for what Orison wanted to say.


    \tThe young mage toasted, "For a small time, I thought you might become my stepfather. Mom could do worse than a man who could protect her but a sight better than a man who''d put her second. Still, if it had been her choice I''d have accepted you."


    \tNadir returned, "For a small time, I thought I you might become my stepson. A man could do worse than a kid who was bright and protective of his family but a sight better than one who constantly finds himself in dangerous situations, whatever the reason. Still, if she would have me I''d have accepted you."


    \tThrowing them back, the captain filled up for a second.


    \tNadir toasted, "For all the times we couldn''t see eye to eye and spited each other, intentionally or not, bury that and put it behind us."


    \tOrison returned, "For all the times we did what needs done and our feelings didn''t matter, bury that and put it behind us."


    \tThe captain looked like he was done but Orison waved for one more and Nadir laughed but obliged only in ''one more'' but no more. After the small tumblers were filled two-thirds, the drunk''s standard, Orison doused them both with a few drops each of vital and vigor potions.


    \tOrison toasted, "May we never again have to work with each other so that after some time and distance we might actually have a chance to be friends."


    \tNadir didn''t so much return as add-lib, "I don''t know if I ever want to get close to your ''large boat'' but I sure as the Abyss will drink to never getting caught in its wake again."


    \tNadir slammed the shot back leaving Orison to catch up but it didn''t really matter since they were done. Possibly in more ways than one. As Orison saw his way out, not for the first time, he went over all the exchanges they had and wondered if there could have been a way he didn''t see to keep Nadir in his corner but ultimately whether it was sooner or later, Orison felt that they would have had conflict. The only other choice was to learn to live under Nadir''s thumb and that wasn''t something he could have done. It all boiled down to one couldn''t and the other wouldn''t. They may occasionally see themselves on one side of that or the other but Orison believed he really understood what Nadir meant when the man had said it didn''t matter how they felt.


    \tFeeling light in step under the potion spiked whiskey, the young mage, met back up with a relieved Gan and Morrel. With scroll back in hand, Orison finalized their next move.


    \tOrison said, "Morrel, I''m claiming Ruolan as clan restitution for the loss of Avenar. Is there any reason why I can''t or shouldn''t?"


    \tMorrel said, "Many but I support the decision. Feud with Fvaris looks unavoidable at this point but it won''t matter much considering where we''ll be. You should be wary of taking in obsidian elves without clear backgrounds in the future as result."


    \tOrison nodded then turned to Ruolan, "Welcome to the clan, Ruolan Cantrip. To let you know we appreciate you, your status as trophy wife shall be hereby abolished and if Morrel wants you as I believe he will agree, you shall be afforded the status of legal first wife. Even should yourself and Morrel decide to go separate ways in the future, you and your progeny will see no dissipation of status."


    \tSeeing the look of shock and confusion on the obsidian elf woman''s face, Morrel explained, "The Cantrip family upholds equality of rights and privileges without discrimination between genders. The Cantrip Clan will apparently be the same but keep in mind that the clan will be within Centerland and they believe in birthright inheritance. First son has priority but a daughter may inherit if there are no male heirs and that will only apply to the Cantrip family or an adopted heir."


    \tOrison said, "There''s a lot of uncertainties in the Cantrip Clan''s near future but I''m going to work hard to make those as many pleasant surprises as I can... Oh, before I forget. I want you to know that we all think you''re beautiful just the way you are but if you ever find the day that you want to do it just to give yourself a little pick-me-up...."


    \tOrison handed her a jar of cream and told her it had the ability to reduce her facial birthmark over time but warned her not to use it for any other reason than personal pleasure or he''d be disappointed in her. He never thought that would prompt Morrel to ask her in seriousness if she''d still want to be with him afterwards in a worried tone. The musical laughter she had before saying yes told Orison it wouldn''t be long before she''d be able to use the cream without it being for sad reasons.

 52 OEW

    Once again, it was only Gan and Orison. Not that there was anyone better to be gazing off into the distance with. Since the scout''s eyes were better and he had a map, Orison rationalized that the moment he could no longer see what was getting further away, he could just look where Gan was looking and pretend he could still see it.


    It was a strange realization that the young mage had spent nearly double the time sending people away than being able to welcome them back as he turned to Gan and said, "I knew Morrel would go with the rest by boat but it feels like such a waste to just leave with the scroll like this when a third, maybe even a fourth, could tag along with us as long as they packed light. Maybe we should just kidnap somebody."


    Black lines ran down Gan''s face as he said, "Please don''t do that, Little Boss. Haven''t you stirred up enough trouble here?... Speaking of trouble, did you manage to check the outgoing missives to make sure Nadir didn''t try to steal your thunder?"


    Orison smiled benignly and said, "Of course I did. I also drugged Nadir and read all his private ones, putting the most incriminating in a neat pile right in front of his face to see after he wakes up any moment now. Then again, I''m not sure what he fingered the rim of the glass or spiked the whiskey with but whatever it was, mixed with mine, it''s making me positively bubbly."


    Gan muttered, "More like a hand full."


    Distracted momentarily, Orison focused back in and said, "Handful? When was the last time you peeked? The miasma did a... I mean why are you dithering around for? Let''s find a good place to pop this scroll... Truth serum, definitely truth serum. But why? Did he have a change of heart on actually doing anything during the toasts or something?"


    Orison still seemed dangerously distracted and chatty while he activated the secret storeroom scroll. Gan looked green as he watched the young mage scrawling a set of symbols representing numbers while looking and babbling away at him instead of the model formation. Despite that, the drawing was neat and orderly without mistake. Being a novice at magic himself, Gan expressed sheer bafflement at Orison''s ability to do so. Once stopped from telling Gan about Beta, the young mage realized that he might have wanted to check on Nadir before they left. If the captain had dosed himself that strongly too he might have reached dangerous levels of toxicity.


    Worriedly he sought Gan for psychological comfort. "He wouldn''t have dosed himself with truth serum too, right?"


    Gan was in the middle of expressing doubt when the curtain of light swallowed them up and spit them into a pitch black room. "The man would have had to lose his mi- Whah? Wait! Don''t move. There are traps everywhere. I can see traps!... No, douse the magic light. I can see them better in the dark. Can you use your glowing eyeball thing to follow me?"


    Orison said, "Yeah but if you spit on the safe spots, I can see them even after you''ve moved past them.... This is his safe room, he''s dead.... Never mind, the dad is in a dangerous ruin with my toy for some reason... Hey don''t use it so much. You''re going to grow hairy palms. Just kidding, but you will burn out your life force and soul. Get plenty of rest and take your time. You have a spark of talent. It can pay for some of it and if you use it like a key- Well, yes I made it, mostly. Yeah, after this haul you should toss it into a drawer til it moves on. You''ve got peeps to take care of."


    Gan said, "Have you finally lost your last marble or something, Little Boss?"


    Suddenly a great deal more sober after finding out he could channel consciousness through to speak so clearly with a holder of the Danann Key, Orison replied, "No. Sorry about that. I have a conduit with a bit of it''s own mind and the current holder was using it without realizing what he was doing to himself. I have a sneaking suspicion that when we get out of this picky place, you''ll be able to do the same with your map. You''ll probably be able to control it much better too."


    Sounding relieved his companion wasn''t losing their mind, Gan said, "Well, if we want the loot we need to get this lock box, chest and wall safe open without setting off the traps."


    After a thorough discussion of options, Orison had the lock box in his space and was fiddling with the chest lock using the bunk lock/unlock spell after having Gan spit into the key hole a few times. It could have been done easy enough with Danann''s key but Orison wanted to use the hidden room to test his capabilities and he didn''t want to take his conduit away from the man because the poor Northlander with the recovering elf girl would almost undoubtedly die without it. He didn''t have enough ability with the key yet to send it back where it came from and had a small fearful premonition that having a conduit bounce so quickly all over the place was bound to get the wrong kind of supernatural attention.


    Fifteen minutes and a good deal of cold sweat later, the chest was open but neither Orison nor Gan had a decent way to get the stuff out of it without setting off the pressure plate. That''s when it dawned on Orison. There was no secret way to get this safely. Avenar had intended this place to be a death trap but for the person who knew what all the traps where and how to protect against them with magic.


    Orison had Gan list all that the scout could figure out with his map and then deduced a puzzle. "Alright, If I have this figured out right, the lock box is corroded by the acid trap. Once it corrodes open, the box releases it''s gas which mixes with the one the pressure plate produces, causing an explosion..."


    As Orison finished explaining out the rest of his most probable version of the Machiavellian mouse trap before him.


    Gan said, "So, to get this stuff, we have to be melted, poisoned, burned and then blown up?"


    Orison explained, "No. We are going to hide behind a golem and a kinetic shield and right after I put on my mask and you take a few deep breaths, I''m going to trigger it. After it''s done doing it''s thing, I''m going to grab the stuff and then we''re going to get out of here as fast as we can before we get too bad off and recover at the college in Fort Frost."


    Gan said, "That sounds dumb. Whatever, let''s do it, I guess."


    Once they''d taken every possible precaution and Orison was ready to blow the whole thing, he widened his spirit sense to it fullest capacity to really see the interactions about to happen, when he stopped.


    Orison started cursing, then said, "You were right, Gan. The configuration of traps throughout the whole room, if placed on a flat surface, make the ancient elven pictograph for simple. It carries a much more derogatory meaning if used alone. The cheeky, obliterated b*****d insinuated that the person who died here would be dumb for ''not seeing the bigger picture''. Quite a theme that''s been popping up in my life lately. First, Nub''s progeny insinuates that I think too big and now a dead guy wants to insinuate I think too small.


    "Wait! This sick f*** was actually a genius. Proof that the world isn''t even close to fair. It''s ''simple'' to see the big picture but ''smart'' to see the little details... of the picture, Gan. Not there, the little details in the ''big picture'' on the wall safe. There''s no direct translation into the modern tongue for it but much like simple is an insult by itself, complex is a compliment by itself."


    First with spirit sight and then with normal vision, Orison inspected a piece of the wall safe picture that formed the ancient elven pictograph for ''complex'' out of grass stalks and wildflowers. He might not have the original item or spell to make it visible but Orison''s spirit sight helped him make out a slowly moving tumbler series of numbers. It still took time but eventually Orison managed to construct the simplistic magic model that lined up with the one laid inside the wall safe that acted as the knob. With one last look at the picture to get the current sequence, the safe was finally opened.


    Inside of the small compartment, were the items necessary to deactivate the traps and open everything. Both of them discovered that even with their special advantages, the real valuables were hidden in the traps themselves and neither of them had gleaned a clue of that. The main compartment of the wall safe, the lock box and even the chest just contained more elaborate and dangerous substances that weren''t of any value and a hazard to try and collect. After cleaning the infectious powders and poisons off the gold and silver coated lead bricks, Orison still took them out of the chest as Gan ran around gleefully collecting the real loot. It wouldn''t be long until the young mage could turn them into real treasure.


    Surveying their bounty, the first apparent thing was that there was little plain wealth unless one counted the small bag of precious gems. After splitting up the less than a thousand gold between them, Orison quickly glanced through a small stack of scrolls a couple rare books on enchantment theory and a selection of weak enchanted jewelry that Gan had to remind Orison the actual value of before the young mage even cared about them.


    The young mage looked at Gan and said, "We''ve got to be missing something. This was the last bastion of an affluent man who had a slave ran farm island, a master mage of spacial magic and a scion of his clan. The traps and props were worth more than the loot so we have to be missing something."


    The scout said, "All of this doesn''t mean anything to me. The guy was meaner than a snake and crazier than a sack of cats. Didn''t you tell me that his spell book was mostly just love letters to his father or something? Master mages don''t usually carry their spell books around with them anymore, or so Court Mage Gerrald said. My gran told me that trying to understand crazy would make you crazy too. Let''s just go si-"


    Orison stopped listening to Gan as his mind started whirling. Opening up the spell book and reading through it again didn''t reveal any new insights but another twenty minutes and a hundred of Gan''s bored sighs later, Orison doggedly inspected all the loot before discovering that the places the scrolls went coincided with Avenar''s parental ''love letters''. Coincidentally, Orison discovered that the scrolls would also kill the person trying to use them since a small part of the math was wrong.


    In a long, drawn out session of math, code cracking and general scholarship that Orison barely qualified to follow, he figured out that Avenar was a sadistic prick who even wanted his successor to suffer but luckily the young mage picked up on something Avenar did not intend. He found the shortcut Avenar himself would have used to visit those other sites if there was need. Two days later, both Gan and Orison were more weary of heart than mind or body.


    Implements of torture, remains of people and experimental subjects best mercifully ended were common welcome at each new site. There was great wealth to find, though all but a small fraction was invested into macabre and dangerous devices. Among them were a rebuilt ancient elf slave collar production device and a mana baptism machine that had been repurposed into some kind of pseudo abyssal creature creator. Fortunately, Avenar and his associates hadn''t managed to make anything useful with it yet but from what the duo who were pillaging and destroying could see, it wouldn''t have taken many more years for the nearly 300 year long project to unleash new horrors on the world.


    Orison burned the research papers and files on premises but had no doubts there were more elsewhere. Together the two of them dismantled and destroyed the magic machines and salvaged the eternium crystals with whatever other valuable pieces could be put to less gruesome use. After the sacking of the final and largest site, in the middle of retrieving correspondences and other sources of evidence that could be given safely to others, a substantial amount of flashing curtains of light appeared in the infernal machine room that had Gan and Orison scrambling to a hidden spot to pop the academy scroll.


    "You are an unauthorized user of the teleportation scroll that brought you here. Until the Master of Defense has questioned and cleared you, move off the transport circle and into the secondary containment circle." The old robed figure on duty said.


    Orison nodded and while complying, asked, "Would novice spells be allowed while we wait? I have a great deal many missives to send and do not possess the proper amount of copies... Oh, right. I''m Orison Cantrip, disciple candidate to the archmage here. Journeyman Therridel is my registered tutor."


    The old prune of a robed Highlander, who''d been intent on pretending he couldn''t hear, perked up and turned to Orison. "Well, in that case, I''ll summon our prestigious aboriginal archmage to deal with this."


    The sourness of tone and implied lack of respect towards the titular leader of Frost Fort Academy had alarm bells going off in Orison''s head but after the old Northlander appeared looking fine, aside from a few new scars, Orison assumed the robed raisin was just an institutional figure who''d been around long enough, people couldn''t be bothered too deal with his attitude. Many aging figures probably even supported his right to surliness. Whatever the case may be, the archmage had questions of his own and it didn''t take long til they were in the old Northlander''s personal rooms.


    "What new horrors are you preparing to unleash in my general direction, Young Cantrip?" The archmage stated in humor.


    After transcribing a copy of the more important test notes and correspondences, Orison handed the originals over, content to not speak a word unless necessary.


    The old Northander''s smiling face fell away by degrees. "Do you have any idea what this would represent if all were aware of these experiments, considering the names involved?"


    Orison said, "A cold war magical arms race potentially ending with a cataclysmic event capable of destroying this world? More likely it would end with two or three super powers checking each other with the threat of utter doom while the rest of the world had to huddle in one of their shadows for protection while being exploited."


    The old man shook his head and said, "What you lack in magical knowledge cannot be made up for with historical pursuits and mind studies, Apprentice Cantrip. War, however, is correct. Insofar as I can speculate, world threatening cataclysms are a regular, bicentennial event... What is the state of this device? What did you see and what else do you know?"


    "We broke it with extreme prejudice," Orison said before relaying all but the treasure hunting.


    The archmage considered the information and said, "Before I release you to get a meal and some much needed rest, why me? Why not report this to the Centerland college and earn some merit with the emperor?"


    "Convenience. I could say that it''s because you have me listed in the books as being a prospective candidate for discipleship but I''m too tired to bullsh*t," Orison replied.


    The archmage chuckled weakly and said, "The last time I tangled into your affairs I lost the memories of three hours and picked up a few new hobbies I have to indulge. What will it cost me this time?... I honestly had your older brother painted as the spiritual heir of your father but your knack for stumbling into trouble is even stronger than Baldur''s, I fear."


    Two days of scavenger hunting for valuables while immersed in horror and death had worn heavily. After an evening meal and a hot bath, Orison and Gan both collapsed into their beds within an isolated guest room at the base of the archmage''s tower. And if a sobbing young mage was comforted back to sleep by a certain scout startled awake by muffled, nightmare induced screams, no one but them was aware.

 53 OEW

    After his fifteen minutes of weakness in the middle of the night, Orison didn''t know how to face Gan the next day. As a person who was comprised of one half child and one half modern man with little resistance to the limits of depravity that intelligent creatures can reach when unchecked, the carnival of obscenity within Avenar''s private research facilities and the larger one that likely belonged to a group of like-minded and deranged mages had been more than he could digest. A few more days in daylight would ease that but the young mage felt like something good and wholesome within himself had been lost and trying to replace that lost innocence with something positive would be a challenge of years, he felt.


    There was no avoiding it. There would be more and detailed questions for Gan and Orison, dredging back to the surface what both of them would like to bury and move past til they could shake the shadows off. If anything helpful could come from that then perhaps it would be that dissecting the event and recounting it into a numb litany would make the horror of it less personal but Orison told himself to never allow that numbness to turn into apathy within himself. He knew things could be better, the world and people could be better, and becoming ambivalent to atrocity was not how ''becoming better'' happened.


    The young mage recapped the choices he''d been making since he arrived on this world to see how they fit the ideal he was trying to sell himself over the late breakfast-early lunch brought to them. In the beginning, he hadn''t had many options and was trying to make the best out of what was presented to him. Somewhere along the way, Orison realized he''d been slipping into dangerous decision making. Playing cat and mouse with a sociopath oligarch, long past the part of necessity, and making deals with a real demon were two steps in bad directions.


    He needed time to get all the parts of himself on the same page and there was a perfect place to do that. Of course, if the Centerland Senate was going to give him too much of a hard time about it, he was done dancing to that tune. He had one or two more big plays left and then he was done. Either he''d get what he was owed or he''d find a wild place to carve out a piece for himself and make them accept it but first, he had to appease an archmage.


    After sifting through the information presented the day before, the old Northland archmage worked into finer details, squeezing for a little more at a time until Gan and Orison weren''t even sure if what they were saying was true or not. Eventually, in frustration, Orison expressed that he and Gan were done. To be expected, the archmage drew upon the might of his title and magical prowess to assert that they would be finished when HE was finished.


    Orison said, "I personally cut the throat of four children who had been half eaten and still somehow alive in various degrees of f***ed up beyond repair. Mindless men were mounting mindless women as they screwed and chewed on each other, all the while opened up and partially dissected. There was no respect of race, age or gender in that place. Those mages wanted to make monsters, monsters that they could control. What else is there to know? Do you want to know how they did it? Do you want to repeat the process and see if you can do what they did?"


    Calmly, the archmage said, "There is no evil inherent in knowledge, Apprentice. I''m not condoning what those elves did but much could be gained for the betterment of-"


    Orison cut him off by saying, "Go dig for secrets in your own body before violating someone else''s."


    The archmage''s eyes glazed over before he strode out of the room with grim purpose. As soon as the old man was gone, Orison dug around for examples of the archmage''s handwriting and used transcribe to piece together two letters, sealing them with the non-magical wax stamp on the desk.


    Gan took pace with Orison''s speed walk and asked in hushed tones, "What was that?"


    The young mage, keeping his purposeful stride to the transport circle, said, "Our favorite mummy left a wind-up key dangling out of the old man. Since he wanted to keep twisting on us, I twisted the key. For whatever good it will do, if he chooses to come looking for us to twist us again, I''ll break the key off in him. He doesn''t seem like a bad sort, just more thirst for knowledge than sensibility. A wake-up call on what it''s like to feel powerless in the grip of another might make him more sympathetic to the victims than curious about the results of the experiments for awhile."


    Once they reached the transport circle, Orison declared himself on official business of the archmage and politely asked the middle-aged woman on duty to send him to the Centerland Empyrean College.


    With a bored expression, the lady said, "Even the archmage himself needs to pay the minimum. You are not he. Five hundred gold."


    All patience gone, Orison said, "I don''t know if this is a shakedown or what but these letters bear his seals. I''ll give you 250 or a black eye and either way you''ll be sending us. What''ll it be?"


    The woman laughed at him before he lunged and punched her in the face before she could even register what he was doing and as she stared at him in horrified shock, he said, "F*** up the sending if you dare. The Centerland Archmage is involved in this too. I don''t have time to deal with inflated egos but maybe you do? I personally wouldn''t want two of the most powerful men in this land looking down at me angrily at the same time but suit yourself."


    The woman began her weaving but added, "In this moment, you have two men behind you. Little lamb, you have no idea-"


    Orison said, "I''m not trying to go to the Marshlands just yet. Fix your coordinates before I rip out your heart like the last specialist who messed with my teleportation, assistant. Yes, I remember you but I''m not surprised you don''t remember me from when your late master tried to murder my family and Captain Nadir. In less than a few months, I''ll be as good as the two MASTERs of spacial magics I killed, if not better, Journeyman I-don''t-care-who-you-are''. Maybe you''d like to pretend another sneeze? Oh, that''s right. This circle''s parameters are preset and it will only accept valid beacons. If you''re too tired, should I do it myself? Your job looks pretty lucrative maybe I''ll-"


    Gan and Orison disappeared in a curtain of light before they found themselves in another circle made of precious materials.


    Orison muttered to himself, "Now I''ve got you. Centerland coordinates, get!"


    Gan said queasily, "Why did you have to rile her up so bad?"


    The young mage said, "One, I hate her. Two, I could see what she was doing and could interrupt it at any time. Three, I wanted her to set the coordinates without masking it. Four, she already has it in for me and mine. Why should I be anything but as offensive as I can be to someone who tried to kill me once and would do it again if they could?"


    Gan chuckled nervously. "Fair enough, Little Boss. She is a teleport mage too though."


    Orison laughed as two Centerland soldiers approached for identification. "She can''t cast a teleport. She can only attend a preset one. Otherwise she wouldn''t still be wearing journeyman robes."


    The young mage declared himself and flashed the sealed letter, requesting to speak to the archmage. Once his request was accepted, Orison pulled a small box out of his space under his robes. Once he stood in front of the grim and battle magic scarred Centerland mage, Orison handed the letter over.


    After speed reading through it, the archmage offered his hand and said, "A real pleasure, Orison. In this office, feel free to call me Tertius."


    After the archmage shared a soldier''s forearm clasp with Orison, followed by a nod of greeting to Gan, Tertius waved the two into a seat. Contrary to expectations, the Centerland archmage called for refreshments and chatted with the young mage about all the adventures ''the boy'' had on Obsidian Island.


    The archmage said, "You couldn''t even begin to imagine my disbelief at hearing the snake pit below us sent an untrained, untried mother and child to deal with THE most difficult diplomatic assignment our country had to offer. If it wasn''t for the Empyrean Court augury, I would have brought you back to safety and sanity with my own hands. Well, now that you are here, no need to worry about going back. The pit has already sent your replacement and if it all falls apart between now and when he gets there, it has nothing to do with you."


    For the first time in what seemed like ages, Orison let out a genuine sigh of relief. "I have two sets of people making their way to my estate. After the events spoken of in the beginning of that letter, if I hadn''t earned it then I don''t want it any more."


    Orison slid the small box across the desk at Tertius. Once the archmage had seen it''s contents and taken out the papers, he slid it back.


    Tertius said. "Offer the rest to the Vox Populi as prepaid land tax at the senatorial session. I''ll pretend, very unconvincingly, to be surprised at seeing them and immediately requisition those eternium crystals for the good of the empire and all that. Since you have to hand them over for yours and your family''s safety, you might as well get something out of it. Still, why didn''t that old blow hard up the way get his claws on them first?"


    Orison shrugged. "I didn''t offer and he was preoccupied. If he asks, I don''t have more."


    Tertius smiled and judging by how awkward it looked on his face, the archmage apparently didn''t have a large amount of practice doing it. "Of course you don''t. I''ll relay the message if asked but I think I can do one better by insinuating that I DO know what you have and support you having it. This whole setup is garbage and what passes for a decently trained master slips by notches every year. Is it any wonder when the older of us constantly rob anything of value the younger generation find and make them burn out their potential to earn it back?


    "I''m going to make myself clear, Orison. I want you for Centerland and I''ll fight for you as long as you don''t start acting like a typical academy snot who walks around like the world owes them something. Surviving your ordeal was admirable. Getting ahead was impressive. Making it look like it was easy scared the delicates off the powdered pigs in the senate which, honestly, tickles my ulcer ridden belly. I''ve never had the pleasure of meeting your father but I''m certain he''d be proud of you."


    Orison smiled bitterly and said, "It was anything but. My survival is greatly due to chance than anything else... Um, about the Domain activities in the letter?"


    Tertius said, "I doubt you actually WANT to be a part of that so consider your part done and I''ll take it from here... You seem to do pretty well on your own so I think the academies would ruin you. How about I send up some books once you''re settled in and try not to let your tutor cram your head with any weird ideas about what''s what in the world of mage craft. When you reach a dead end that the spy from Fort Frost can''t help you with, just write to me. I''ll see what I can do to help you out. I''d offer to take you in as a disciple but that would do you further injustice. Believe me.


    "Hmm, would you be adverse to having a small mage guild on your land? Things are a bit thinly spread but if you can take some of your gains to get it started, I''ll see about increasing the funds that way. Where one goes, the other usually follows but the mercenary guild charter houses have always footed it''s own bill."


    Orison said, "I, uh-"


    "It''s settled then. Follow my servant to get whatever you need and sometime later this evening, you''ll have your snake pit meeting. I''d suggest getting some rest in if you need it. Those pedants can turn anything into a circus if given half a chance," Tertius added before standing up and seeing his way out."


    As the servant led them to a reclusive suite with just about anything a person could want on short notice, Gan said, "What in the Abyss just happened?"


    Orison shook his head and chuckled. "I was treated like a smart, brave and potentially useful ''child''. To be honest, I don''t care. He''s right. I don''t want to be involved. I don''t want to go to an academy and spin wheels for years to get what I could on my own in months. Better yet, he stated plainly what he wants from me and what he''s offering in return. As long as I don''t step out of those generously wide lines, I can do what I want... Nothing to complain about."


    Gan said, "Help ME understand."


    Orison nodded and broke it down. "As long as I''m a Centerland mage, Tertius will keep everyone off my a**. If I stop being a Centerland mage, I''ll be on his sh*t list. He warned me to not get too friendly with my tutor and that the mage guild I''m supposed to build is his answer to that tutor''s presence... I''m not certain about the last part but either a mercenary group is interested in getting close to me or wants to keep an eye on me. My best guess. There may have been some hints on not learning things he doesn''t approve of but on that, it''s better to do and ask forgiveness than to be asked permission and be denied. He''ll be much clearer then and I won''t have to guess."


    The carefully planned round of back and forth Orison had prepared for the senate was not to be. Unlike his envisioned circle of vultures looking to tear a chunk where they could as he fought with cunning and valor for every little piece he escaped with turned into a pageant. He was paraded around, complimented by the archmage and emperor and barely had a breath of time to hand over his ''land taxes'' with a promise of ten years paid in full off of them.


    It irked him that him or his heir would be looking at 3000 in annual taxes after ten years off a thirty mile diameter blob of a mountainous gray zone which didn''t really belong to anyone because no one really wanted it but didn''t want anyone else to have it. The Northland High King did agree to letting Centerland have it but Highlanders don''t cede anything they aren''t forced to which potentially left him dealing with their interference if Orison expanded development in that direction or found something worth fighting over. Northland''s side wasn''t much better considering the Forgotten were uncomfortably close to being a neighbor on the north-eastern portion.


    It didn''t take much thinking for Orison to realize that the senate still got their digs in. The young mage''s merits and the eternium crystals taken from the two machines had bought himself ten years of fiscal freedom from the emperor and Tertius but after that, the senate would slowly dismantle and eat up anything he''d made of the place. He smiled secretly to himself that he''d do more for less time. If the senate thought that they''d be able to squeeze anything he didn''t want to give from the place he was leaving for his loved ones, they were in for a rude awakening.


    To some degree, the emperor must have been wise to Orison because he deemed to give the young mage the tenth official offering of the baron title. As a feudal system title granted outside the senate''s power to address, as long as the emperor himself or one of his descendants didn''t revoke it, a baron could be infinite in debt and the senate could seize nothing. The previous emperor had robbed the patricians of military power and it seemed that this one wanted to take away the right to regulate taxes. If successful, the senate would be nothing but a collection of rich land owners with legislative power easily overthrown by angry commoners or vetoed impotent by the emperor.


    It took several days but Orison collected up a large caravan worth of provisions, tools and a few essential ''journeymen'' of harder trades to make the final stretch of the trek to his new home with him. Since it was already in the works, Orison decided to forego waiting and sent an invitation to the mercenary guild within the capital to send some people to prospect and help the young mage pick out a site. The reply was lukewarm but some gold and a promise to let them choose before the mandatory mage guild made them far more friendly.

 54 OEW

    "Three weeks it took us to reach here and now the driver says he won''t take another step. It''s over twenty miles of trail into this mountain pass before we reach your valley! If it was a problem, they should have said so before we got this far. Droya should catch up to us in a week and if this lard sack is acting like this then you know there''s not a lick of work been done on the manor... We''re going to be stuck between two mountain ridges with no chance for help a whole winter and sh*t for shelter" Gan ranted and raged for over five minutes before he finally calmed down enough to realize that Orison had summoned two golems, one leveling and one pounding.


    Orison walked over to the driver and said, "I can either pay you for a bit more road or I can send your equipment back when I finish its delivery myself."


    The nervous driver said, "Look mister, I know I didn''t say nothing but I figured you''d understand when you saw it. Ain''t nobody getting through there til the trail''s rebuilt and nobody who ain''t crazy''s gonna do that til spring."


    Orison''s eyes narrowed. "Golems don''t get tired and if one falls, I''ll summon another. The trail will be twice as safe and we''ll travel half the speed but if you dump my goods on the ground here, I''m going to dump a golem on your head. These goods are going with or without you. Since you seem to be a man who cares about his people and equipment, I''ll compensate you for the extra time. What will it be?"


    The driver said bitterly, "Ain''t leaving me much choice are ya!?"


    Rune, the leader of the mercenary group that came with them, came up to Orison. "Had the men ask around Widow''s Weal. The construction crew made two trips up to your place. On the second trip back, a part of the trail collapsed due to heavy rain but they were speaking about seeing monsters and such. The woodsman in employ by the patrician family that runs this land said that there was no sign of anything save the workers and found no conclusive evidence that sabotage was involved. The woodsman said he wouldn''t rule that out either though."


    Orison snorted. "One way or the other, I''m not going to mess with them. I''ll give your home office a ten percent claim on beating my deposit out of them minus the transport fees and material that actually made it to the valley. Pass the message, if they lie about that like they lied about all their other promises, the boss can use what money he embezzled to buy or renovate a crypt."


    Rune chewed on a long piece of some wild grass and said, "How much was the original deposit?"


    Orison said, "Eleven thousand of what should have cost six but I wasn''t going to complain when there wasn''t any others rushing to offer. I should have known it would be a damn scam but I thought I could scare them straight. Damn a**holes showed me. Just collapsed the damn trail and spread rumors. That''s alright. I only want my money back and every spit-to-miss village from here to the capital aware not to use their services. They have to have competition."


    Rune shook his head. "Nope. Well, small time sure but manors and keeps are a different game."


    Orison said, "If that''s the case, were the blueprints for a few of the better manors and keeps built in similar areas as my valley to fall into my hands, I''d pay twenty gold apiece for the best two of each kind and an extra five for ones that have building design notes up to 200 worth."


    The young mage was screaming in his head, "I just got done playing diplomat. Now I have to be Bob the freakin builder to have a place to live in!? I get what he''s saying. The average stubborn person can raise a little ranch house, cottage or barn but talk more than that and it''s real craftsmanship with sh*t I have next to no idea about."


    Rune scratched his head. "Dusting off records and scrolls isn''t our normal bag but the gold''s good. I''m sure someone''ll be up to it."


    "Um, excuse me Patrician Cantrip but if you don''t mind taking a few directions with your rock men, our tools are a little light but a three story affair should be doable as long as we can get some more lime." A somewhat timid stork of a man in his mid twenties had stepped up.


    Orison said, "Patrick, right? I remember the master mason you were apprenticed to seeming pretty happy to sell you off. This might seem a bit late but since you want me to invest in materials beyond the scope of your hire, I need some assurance... Rune, I still want what I want and it''s going to take hours before we''re past the initial collapse. We''ll wait on you or whichever one of your men want to run my request to the post."


    Rune nodded and headed off while Patrick ''interviewed''. "As you can tell, I''m Highland descent. Father was a proper centurion but never made his honorable. Mostly due to mom I think. Truth is, Master caught me reading his son''s architecture material and has wanted me gone ever since... My father paid good money to that man to teach me and I basically was forced to steal what- It doesn''t matter. The point is that I can do up to three stories with stone if your golems help. I wont promise a finger width more than that but I can do what I say."


    Orison said, "Could you plan a simple village layout that can grow with a sewer and flood ditches as extra obstacles?"


    Patrick flushed red a little as he said, "You give me some reference material, a test area and some time and I can. Just... I''m only one person and that''s a lot to do."


    Orison mulled it over and said, "Here''s a hundred. I assume you know what to order to get what you need ''reference wise''. Write up material requests as you think of them and when the rest of my people catch up, report it to Droya, my mother, or Morrel, my steward."


    Patrick said, "No offense but we''ll be up in the mountains, snow locked til spring before those books make it back."


    Annoyed, Orison said, "I know but when spring comes we''re hitting the ground running and I can personally make a trip through the Abyss itself to get our supplies when it gets here. Believe it."


    It took four days to get the caravan through twenty miles but the trail had transformed into a road wide enough, if barely, for two wagons going opposite direction to pass one another safely. It also had drainage ditches and small stone bridges packed over with gravel and dirt where water seemed to congregate most frequently. It''s not that he wanted to spend that much effort when there were critical needs to be met but when Orison saw how little building material had made it through to the valley, he wanted to make sure he had a valid reason to murder the next caravan driver who refused to deliver goods in a timely manner. And if there happened to conveniently be another ''heavy rain'' collapse, someone would die for that too.


    With Patrick''s help, the first day there was spent surveying, checking fault, water and all sorts of lines and other small details Orison never would have thought about until it was a problem. Once done, They came up with the initial usable area. The five mile long and three mile, at it''s fattest part, wide diamond of a double ridge locked valley had three major problems. The extreme eastern and western sides were avalanche and rock slide hazards. The widest and lowest part in the middle was a flood plain in spring.


    Orison marveled over the raw beauty and potential of the place but inherently understood why it had never been developed and why the only locals where two families of goat and sheep farmers on the western side. Without a lot of time and effort, it was too harsh and cruel to live here. Anywhere between three to five months out of the year, you couldn''t reach it. Late winter could damage or even destroy structures for nearly a third of the valley on either side and the middle third could wash away.


    After some discussion and good deal of convincing Patrick he wasn''t suicidal and would be able to deliver on a through-the-winter work schedule, the first set of modular and movable buildings for what would be his thirty plus people were built on the northern side of the flood planes. Wood was fell in the south and brought to the north while multiple golems were summoned daily from the center to end their brief magical lives laying out a growing bank that was raked over to make raised land up to the northern tree line. A week later, Droya had a teary reunion with her son and Gan was released from assistant duty by Rithus.


    Orison happily handed administrative and resource matters back over to Droya almost as tearfully grateful as their actual reunion hug was. Claudius and his brother, got to work getting to know everyone and gathering as much intelligence about the area as possible. Completely freed from social and organizational duties, Orison was finally able to return attempting to work himself into an early grave without distraction.


    Another week later and Cray had proven to be the most immediately useful of everyone. A smoke house, built to his design, was preserving meat the archer and Gan had hunted. A cave with signs of copper deposits on the west end was uncovered as well as a couple of small ''hidden valleys'' within Orison''s property lines that weren''t in the land report. One held a natural lake, part of the reason for flooding, teeming with fish. All Cray''s merits.


    With the end of that week, came Morrel and his group of Domain refugees. Their trip had not been uneventful but quick thinking and a few bribes had gotten everyone through unscathed. Old infrastructure in place, things began running smoothly as clockwork while the first sight of morning frost showed itself. All would have been gathered in place but Duran and Medea were still a no-show by the time the last large load of goods was delivered along with three journeyman mages that started setting up shop with snide comments on their rustic domicile.


    After Orison kindly informed the two destruction mages and one restoration specialist that they could feel free to f*** off to where they came from or sleep in the snow for all he cared, a war of silence emerged. It was a war Orison was destined to win. He needed nothing from them and Therridel, who came riding in from the north two days later was crack enough at restoration that Orison could lord properly with subordinates for every minor task needful in a season of nothing to do in the valley but prepare for winter.


    If Cray was the all-star in early fall, Therridel was the all-star for mid. The fifty year old gold elf, twenty-something for the non-human races, brokered peace with the other mages. The two destruction mages were coaxed into knocking off the east peak and creating a back-slide area for snow. It would take some time but by the end of next spring, an ambitious project that Orison was starting to hatch would begin unfolding. With one last mildly dangerous trip to Widow''s Weal, Orison and Gan brought back Patrick''s study materials and a small library''s worth of magic and mundane books/materials meant for the mage''s guild but Therridel managed to convince the restoration mage to play school teacher and librarian until spring. The woman would have happy hands full stuffing knowledge into the handful of young minds in the valley and the residents would have a respectable winter recreational activity.


    Sadly, it looked to the Cantrip Clan that their last two members would not be arriving before spring but Orison had left missives and a mercenary guild reward to provide aid and safe travel for the pair to Widow''s Weal where they''d be sure to receive a warm and comfortable welcome. Orison didn''t dwell too heavily on it since Gan assured that wherever they were, he could sense that Duran, at least, was still alive. Since that wasn''t in the cards, Orison split his time into mass landscaping and coursework with Therridel. After Morrel launched a complaint that time for training should always be made, all the martial folk had morning and evening sessions added and Orison found himself getting personal ''tutoring'' from the old wood elf yet again but he could at least share the misery with Rithus.


    Wrapping up another intermediate magic theory less Orison said, "So Del, what''s your deal? I mean, I get you''re the archmage''s spy but you are actually a real help and you at least seem to care."


    Therridel looked at Orison stunned for a moment. "That was incredibly blunt but no offense taken... I''m not really a spy, you know. I''m sure I was intended to be a first alert if you turned out to have dangerous sentiments but all things considered, I''d almost put you as not enough of a risk taker when it comes to delving into the secrets of magic. I find your approach to be, if anything, more structured and systematic than most academy types but that''s not a bad thing."


    Orison raised an eyebrow. "So are personal questions off limits or is deflecting a subconscious habit?"


    Therridel said, "I- When I first arrived, I thought I needed to prove I was useful before you found a reason to wedge a block between us outside of tutoring. Based off our first interactions, you didn''t give me the impression of being open to friendships with gold elves."


    It was Orison''s turn to be stunned. "What gave you that idea? Look around. I think if I gave anyone a strange impression, to the casual observer, I look like I try too hard to prove the opposite. I can pretty much get along with anyone who doesn''t try to hurt me or my people."


    Therridel stammered for a moment then chuckled, "Yes, I got that after I arrived HERE but when I wrote to you before you went to your inheritance hearing you were quite hostile. You don''t actually know who I am yet?"


    Rusty gears turned and Orison realized who stood before him. "You''re the stalk, er, guy who sent that artist to get my picture!"


    Therridel blushed in embarrassment. "In retrospect that was somewhat untoward. Every mage has some form of obsession and mine is pictures. I have journals full of portraits and landscapes. I''ve probably spent more money on artists, paint and such than I have on mystical reagents or the like... I''ve even pursued constructing an advanced model of transcribe capable of capturing what the eye sees rather than a page image for my master thesis."


    Orison looked at the elf dubiously. "Well, I was responsible for the death of your father. I kind of took the extra friendliness in a threatening way. Most people don''t try to get close to a person who, even if only indirectly, caused the death of a parent for good intentions."


    The elf spent some time silently thinking before he responded, "My father was cruel and dangerous to servants and a coward else-wise. My mother wasn''t fond of him either... I know there was a certain guard of the household who was particularly concerned for my well being when I was very young and my mother favored him a little too much. Draw your own conclusions about everything else."


    Both of them sat in uncomfortable silence for awhile before Orison said, "Oh. Well, whatever. I actually had some thoughts on your thesis that I shared with Gerrald. We kind of agreed to disagree on certain subjects but if you''re interested, I could share them with you?"


    Therridel eagerly accepted the olive branch and the two spent the rest of the study session filling in the glaring hole that attempting to remove mysticism from magic made.


    The next day Orison decided to take a rare break. The first snow of the season had melted over the next few days as temperatures temporarily took a mild turn. The passes were not going to clear but the surrounding area of his valley was accessible for a short window and orison wanted to take advantage. After visiting the long cabin the miserable and bored mercenaries had constructed, he realized that these people needed something to do or cabin fever would potentially turn them into a surly problem for the otherwise peaceful valley.


    "Rune, I know you and your right hand are...special. I don''t have a problem with that. In fact, I could use you and your men''s help with something and I don''t need to feel like I''m putting you in danger to do it." Deciding to be blunt, Orison outright admitted to knowing there were werewolves in the mercenary group.


    Rune''s eyes temporarily flared yellow before he said, "Ballsy brat aren''t you. I''m game. What did you have in mind?"

 55 OEW

    Orison pulled out a map Gan had helped him to create. "There are blank spots all over the place. I need to know what I''m working with here and if there are dangerous spots that either need to be dealt with or avoided. To be clear, I''m not asking you to deal with them yet. I just want this all marked out. While you''re at it, if you happen to find a nice spot for running in, I''m not adverse to respecting a private ''territory'' on the edges of my land. In fact, there''s likely a good deal of uninhabited or mildly infiltrated and potential threatening spots from east to northeast out there for the claiming."


    Rune eyeballed Orison and said, "Wanting to use us as a shield against Forgotten Northlanders isn''t doing us any favors."


    Orison nodded and said, "Having threats none of us know about on our stomping grounds isn''t a favor to any of us but don''t pretend that circling off a chunk of hidden ridge land as a private sanctuary isn''t appealing even if you have to mark and defend that territory."


    Rune snorted. "If there was anything in there worth claiming, it would have been."


    Orison sighed. "I think you''re missing a big hole in your logic on that one. Navigation through this area is a big pain in the a** and mages are too expensive to put to work on construction projects. With a little time, I''m going to turn this into a second major trade hub for Northland and Centerland. If I can manage, I might even add Highland to the mix. The one thing this place was missing to make it appealing to those like yourself will be here.


    "Are you going to try to convince me that people aren''t a part of the equation? It''s quite the contradiction to need lots of privacy but still be close to people. Still, I think this area has more than just a little potential to become exactly that, a place with lots of private space but access to a good number of people."


    Rune peeked and listened around then said, "The old wolves were responsible for that trail to begin with but no one was interested before. If you''re telling me the truth then yeah but I know a thing or two about you that makes me a little uneasy about investing too much... You going to lie to me and tell me you don''t have blood-sucker acquaintances? The best kind of place for us is the best for them too. After we do the dirty work are you going to clean us out to make room for them?"


    Orison flared soul power through his eyes. "One thing will be crystal clear. There is no territory on MY land to fight over because it is mine. Peace will be kept here because those who break it won''t be welcomed or possibly breathing. I''m offering the east of my border as allies. If you want it, I''ll help you claim it as long as you help me get to the hard to reach areas of my land and tell me what''s there. West is off limits and there might be a vampire or two that pass through but there will be no nest near my land, ever. No other points are up for discussion."


    Rune looked ready to take Orison up on a challenge for authority until his keen hearing heard the draw of bowstring to his left and right. "Coward."


    "Mage, hypocrite. Only one of those arrows is aimed at you so unless you want your pack mate to have a new silver accessory in his face you''ll tell him to stop creeping up behind me," the young mage said blandly.


    As quickly as it escalated, the heat died out of Rune''s eyes. "Two hundred and a signed document stating that your eastern border is our group''s training ground. I''m not interested in having your help claiming territory."


    Orison said, "100 and if I see signs of recent ransacking of anything you find on my land or failure to report a finding will result in unpleasantness. I''m asking you to look, not touch. It''s more to give you something to do and a way to get some gold."


    After a few finer points of contention and a detailed contract, the group of mercenaries had something to do until late fall came, ending any meaningful outdoor activities for anyone except for two of their six person group. Not that the other four couldn''t find something to do. Orison made sure there was some coin to throw around between his people and even if it wasn''t what they were expecting, there was a silver or two for a couple hours'' assistance on any number of activities.


    With less and less for most to do as fall progressed to it''s nastier side, Orison observed the visible expressions of his people''s personal lives between his relentless pursuits to force his land into usability. With so little going on, there was really only one activity healthy people would always have available that was of interest, no matter the environment. And as far as Orison could see, there were plenty of people that were healthy and interested.


    For himself, other than batting around the idea of taking ''Sandy'' from the mercenary troop up on her flirtations, which he declined after learning that Rune''s pack mate was serious about her, he didn''t really go out of his way to make himself available. Joining him in celibacy, because reasons, was Rithus. Both of them seemed to be on the same page about entertaining anything serious when they planned on leaving someday and the Marshlander didn''t particularly feel any ''needs'' when the weather was too cold apparently. Neither did Orison but he thought it had more to do with certain parts of his mind catching up with his body.


    As time went by, it became more obvious that Gan''s friendship with Corvinus and Yulian went into areas Orison was happy to remain unenlightened about and Morrel was throwing around so much ''dog food'' with Ruolan that even established couples like Droya and Claudius occasionally found it uncomfortable to be around them. It dawned on the young mage that Morrel still thought of himself as an old man and not the powerful supernatural entity in the prime of his life that he''d become. Ruolan had a strangely low self esteem and soaked up the generous affection that rained on her from Morrel, returning it with an intensity that bordered on obsession. In the words of Droya, ''It would be adorable if it wasn''t a little scary.''


    With the absence of a temple and magistrate, Orison found out that he was the only entity on his land capable of officiating legal weddings. This surprising tidbit was brought to his attention when Jiraya, the young Bastet man he''d rescued from Avenar''s estate, approached him with the forty-something Highlander restoration mage to be officiated. Their story was completely under the radar but was somewhat of a welcomed surprise. The two had grown close due to sharing responsibilities over the four children in Orison''s clan. It hadn''t been an intentional decision for things to turn out that way but Jiraya just kind of naturally slid into it and proved to be a deft and trustworthy hand at childcare and Myriam found joy in teaching that turned into a deeper affection for the traumatized kids.


    Orison contemplated that the same thing that drew the woman into a restoration specialty is what pulled her heartstrings for Jiraya and the four children. Determined to make it something less dry, Orison splurged a bit of supplies from his private stock and held a little ceremony, urging them to share vows and making it through the legal proceedings in as natural a way as two nights of crash course studying Centerland marriage would allow. As a traditionalist, Myriam married into the Cantrip Clan and defended it from slander as if she were born into it, which apparently was a Highlander way of thinking that he wasn''t aware of.


    As if the ceremony had been some sort of catalyst, the four gold elf guards and remaining Marshlander woman from the Domain refugees slowly started coming out of their shells and mingling with everyone. That didn''t mean all was well, however. Just when Orison wasn''t on edge around Therridel any longer, the elf got himself beat up by Rune''s second when the journeyman illusionist let ''Sandy'' have her way with him. Luckily the elf was capable of handling his own problems and before the week was out, Sandy was no longer acting oblivious to her companion''s advances but the man in question suddenly seemed to be more interested in the ongoing mission Orison had given to Rune. Aside from ''abusing'' Therridel with a weirdly possessive ''bros before h*es'' mentality friendship in his free time, the man became another helpful set of hands around the valley. At least, that''s what it looked like in public and that''s all Orison cared to know.


    As interpersonal relationships grew deeper and more complex, Claudius and his brother found themselves with actual business to handle. Orison found it sad he couldn''t share a joke with Claudius about his Mayberry sheriff way of handling things but was happy to continue his tight, three section plus sleep schedule. To cut down further on things he didn''t particularly have a care to deal with on the daily, he empowered Droya with the ability to use his seal to officiate on his behalf and slowly started fading into the background to focus on the land and his magical studies.


    Just when Orison was finished with linking the western lake with the reservoir and service creek, Rune handed in the eastern side report. Among a honeycomb of caverns with common crystal and semi-precious stone deposits was a hydro-thermal activity area. After running a few test to make sure it was safe, Orison delegated the northeastern most third, accessible only by cave unless one was really good at climbing, to be the beginnings of pack territory. The southeastern two-thirds along with the southern caverns would be developed into a winter retreat/ recreational hot springs area after development.


    With the resources of his property now known and the people around him briefed on expectations come spring, the young mage lost himself completely to development and study. It was a cold scouring of his mind and soul. All thoughts and feelings tumbled from jagged edges to smooth corners under a blur of golems, models and theories. Weak sun, wind and eventually blizzards were his days. Words of the deceased wise and arcane symbols with a slightly concerned but supportive small group of friends and family flitting in and out were his evenings and nights.


    The final few barriers that existed between boy and man within Orison eroded away. On Longest Night, at Droya''s behest, the young mage took the first day off in nearly two months. During a small celebration of the returning of light and life, Droya slipped him a small present, secretly wishing him a happy birthday. Orison smiled at the three sets of quality woolen socks within and knew he had finally become himself. And if the shadows in his heart might never be completely gone, at least for the time being, he had made peace with and moved beyond them.


    His gift to the clan was an underground access route, lined with glow stones and mixed support structures that wouldn''t buckle under an earthquake, to a somewhat steamy but near tropical hot springs region large enough to put a decent village in. It had nearly taken three weeks but Orison had removed a portion of cave ceiling and transplanted a large amount of grass and other flora to create a place that would maintain a temperature of around 80 degrees all year round. It was a nearly one mile ovoid of private paradise. Until some buildings were complete within, the only two permanent inhabitants were Rithus and the Marshlander woman but soon most of the clan would be living there until spring.


    After the intense, two month long session, Orison switched gears back into reconnecting with his core group even as he slowly drew a line between himself and the rest, pushing them into Droya''s arms. Ultimately, this was all for her, Morrel and those friends and loved ones who would inevitably be left behind. It was only a small thing at present but inside Orison, Gan and Rithus was a slow building pull that would grow stronger, an instinct that would lead them to a restless desire. They had already made the first step on the short road to the tower and for better or worse they didn''t intend to turn back.


    ***


    In a rare moment of privacy, Orison sat down with Droya for a serious talk. He had noticed the sad stares at the increasingly round belly of Yulian and a small knot of unhappiness laying in the deep bottom of her and Claudius'' relationship. The young mage had been putting off a final card to play as he watched to insure Claduis wasn''t going to give in to whatever small voices might be whispering to him that might drive the man into the arms of a woman that could give him what Droya could not but he didn''t. The Centerland man was as true as the day is long and it was obvious that despite Claudius'' desire for a child of his own, his love for her was strong enough to deny seeking it.


    "Mom, I don''t want to give you false hope but I have a possible solution to your infertility. It comes with risk and there''s some gradual changes that come with it." Orison said.


    Droya was silent for awhile but eventually curiosity won over dread and she said, "Tell me about it, sweetling. Let me know all you can."


    There were some unspoken understandings that lay between them and Droya knew by how he breached the subject that this was one of the ones that came close to secrets not easily shared. "I have secured a source of, let''s call it, essence enrichment. That source is not a place that could be considered good but the portion that belongs to me is free of ''taint''. I have the ability to give over a portion of that to you but know that even though it should make you whole, over a long time it will also make you more. It won''t be in the way I am but you''ll live a long time, maybe more than you''ll want to. You might change over time as well but it will also be small changes and over a long time. The thing is, once I grant that portion to you, I can''t take it back.


    "Of course, there''s a decent chance that our shares from that place will be severed at some point. That could happen tomorrow or never, though. If it''s a long time, you will eventually be forced out of the material realm to live among the ''others'' that watch, guide and manipulate this world, only able to visit for a short time. Morrel can help you with a lot of that, including staving off changes or keeping you from being pushed out but the price is making a pact with the world as he has. Honestly, to protect from many unknowns, I''d say you should do that from the very beginning if you choose to do this."


    Since Morrel was brought into it, Droya had him weigh in. The conversation was long and all possibilities were covered. Orison noticed that Morrel had strong mixed feelings about it but considering his closeness with both Droya and Orison, whatever internal struggle the wood elf was enduring had ended up landing in their favor. With all discussed, Droya decided to sleep on it. It all left Orison with the subtle feeling that he was a devil tricking a poor woman into selling her soul.


    Once Droya was gone, Morrel said, "For the chance to have children, to give children to Claudius, she''s agreeing to a great deal more than she was designed by nature for. Still, she''s a strong woman and adaptable."


    Orison asked, "What will the world ask of her Morrel? I''ve negotiated for the source but what will the world want from her?"


    Morrel said, "The world does not bargain. It does not issue bills for services. She will be to a lesser degree as I am and her importance to the world will raise with her ability and willingness."


    When the next day came, Droya decided to go through with it but not without reservation. Unlike the sacrament that Orison and Gan had, which more resembled applying sunscreen, Droya swallowed the aloe substance down. An entire day was spent communing and bringing herself in alignment with the world. Afterward, Orison designated her as the other tithe holder. Orison watched carefully for tricks as she called for her first tithe and sure enough there had been one. A spiritual entity of weak strength slipped through the connection but once inside it was met with a green glow that dissolved it like mist in the sun.


    Assured by Morrel and what he saw, Orison no longer needed to worry about such things. What was to become of her future was in her own hands and what she could get out of Rozcherek before the demon inevitably found a way to slip the contract or was defeated by another of his kind. If there was anything to regret, it was the subtle wall between mother and son known as the will of the world that would be between them from that point forward. Still, the woman had risked much to stay by his side and provide support when he needed it most. He wanted to provide her with something enduring. The young mage just hoped that she wouldn''t end up hating him for it.

 56 OEW

    As things are wont to do after a period of peace, events of all kinds began rearing their beautiful and ugly heads in waves. An unseasonably warm snap in late winter was directly followed by a record cold. Just an hour after Duran came staggering half dead into the valley clutching an urn to his chest, Yulian went into labor. Two days later, a healthy baby girl was introduced to the rest of the family after a few touch-and-go moments had put mother and child into a delicate state for a day. After discussing, the couple had decided to call her Primia, a small play between the second half of Gan''s name and the fact that the girl had come a little early.


    With the best magic and medicine available, Duran was barely on his feet but he insisted on attending the greeting. Right after the naming, when everyone was taking turns to greet the new life and give their well wishes, Duran bluntly shoved the urn into Yulian''s hands. Corvinus looked ready to pummel the boy but Yulian understood the unspoken meaning. Among a growing list of requests that Droya organized was a small tomb to enshrine an ancestor.


    Orison helped Duran to the Cantrip Villa within the ''secret village'' and was about to start asking the boy questions about their journey and what happened to Medea, among other things, when the edges of Duran''s existence started going fuzzy. It was the same reaction Orison had seen before when he pulled out an item the world didn''t approve of. There was no time to fetch Morrel and even if the elf had manged to make it to them, the wood elf had explained there was no more ''grace'' left within him to share for the time being.


    With a great deal of trepidation, Orison did the only thing he could think of besides lathering Duran with the bowl of regeneration fat that most assuredly wouldn''t be enough to stop Duran from unraveling. Orison took the boy into his arms and willed Duran onto the small plane in his space. There was a great deal of resistance and the outer edges of the boy''s body wavered, even slightly dispersed before Duran had settled, as if drawn there, at the foot of the tree.


    For a moment, Duran looked like he''d been dipped in corrosive material before Orison felt a spiritual fluctuation from the tree. All the dispersing pieces of Duran realigned where they were supposed to be but the boy was locked in a coma-like state. It was hard to sense but the tree had made some sort of attempt at spiritual communication with Orison. All that the young mage could grasp from the unfamiliar way of communication was a need, a strong need for something.


    Confused, Orison thought at the tree as hard as he could, "I don''t know what you want. Can you show me?"


    The tree shook almost like a startled person. The young mage realized he must have reacted like a person whose hearing aid had died, yelling to make sure he was heard. To help figure out what the tree wanted, Orison began pulling samples of things from his space towards the small plane. It didn''t take long to figure out from the tree''s ever weakening ''happy'' feeling every time Orison brought a wanted piece forward from the collection of stuff that it was pretty much everything that had been ''near'' the wake of Duran''s passing through his inner space to the plane. It just so happened to be the bulk of martial equipment and less organic alchemy ingredients ''gifted'' to him during ''dark night''.


    While the tree held Duran''s spiritual self inside a non-functioning body, Orison began combing through all the material that had been ''contaminated'' with pieces of the boy. Orison sadly watched as nearly all the equipment and a few other odds and ends slowly disappeared into Duran as if the image of a body was a lie, hiding a black hole inside. Before being crushed, an ugly thought briefly flitted through the young mage''s heart that if he had knew just how costly Duran would become, he might not have been so quick to save the boy.


    The next day, Orison almost exploded into a rage when he noticed that the tree and nearly half of his plane were gone too. That rage quickly died, however, once the young mage realized that the tree had been the one holding his plane back from growing properly. The tree may have been responsible for forming it to begin with but too much of what made Orison''s space wasn''t compatible with the tree''s survival. Now that it was gone, Orison''s plane was taking in much larger amounts of crystal dust, insuring that it''s growth would be a great deal faster. As a sort of parting gift, the tree had imprinted it''s drawing and processing ability onto the grass that had adapted to his space''s essence the best.


    Orison thought to himself, "So that was the deal? You save the boy and in return he hosts you because my space was too hostile for your future growth or something?... F*ck it. Easy come, easy go I guess."


    The worst part of Orison''s act of altruism was yet to come. The precursor was sudden memory loss for everyone that should have known Duran. The only immune to such an effect were his three companions and his mother. A few days later while the young mage was helping the goat herd dig out his ranch and middle son from a sudden avalanche that claimed the young man''s life and half the ranch''s livestock, Orison felt the sacrament that protected him from the world''s retribution dim significantly.


    In a panic, the young mage scrambled to find Morrel. "What in the Abyss is going on? One second I was helping a grieving father collect the remains of his son and in the next I''m scared the world is going to erase me."


    Morrel closed his eyes and after an excruciatingly long minute, he said, "Something about ''that boy'' threatens the world. From what I can understand, your ''guest'' should be recovered and awaken in less than a third of a year. When that happens, it will mark the end for both of you whether you keep him with you or not. Just the understanding of you possessing the ability to possibly create another of his kind is enough.


    "The sacrament you carry grants you that time. It''s sad and sudden but use this time as best you can to finish your affairs here. I will ensure your safe passage ''out'' when that time expires. That, of course, extends to Gan and Rithus as well. I may know nothing of this climbing business but I do understand that each of you carry something within that will draw you elsewhere once you strengthen it enough."


    Orison despaired. "That''s not enough time! So many things need to be done and we can''t do even a small fraction before late spring!"


    Morrel shook his head sadly and said, "Life is full of such trials, even for people such as the rancher who hadn''t even the ability to say goodbye before losing his son. Do you think that the thought had ever crossed his mind that he may outlive his child, would even want to? If it''s of any solace, this world''s state is a temporary one. What once was below you may yet lie above. ''Climb'', as you call it and perhaps we may yet meet again."


    With a grimace bordering on disdain, Orison said, "There are so many threats to what I''m trying to build here. Even the taxes I''ve paid will only cover half the time once I''m gone. That''s assuming I have a designated heir."


    Morrel said, "You border on insulting those that will remain. I am not powerless and you have given us the tools we need. It''s true that without you many things will be more difficult but some things will be easier. Five years is enough to find our own way. Take some time to name an heir and we''ll fight for the rest ourselves. There are few fools among us and fewer that are weak... Every moment spent in pity is one less you''ll have."


    The young mage recoiled, stunned and a little hurt, almost as if he''d been slapped. He wanted to lash out, throw accusations. Anger bubbled to the surface but before it had a chance to erupt, a few rational thoughts took hold first. Had it been even a month ago, the result would have been much different but child and man no longer warred within him.


    Orison said, "The shortest distance between two points is rarely the best line to draw, Morrel. Point taken though. Just so YOU''RE aware, I never questioned anyone''s ability to survive but I was trying to build something that would last. I wanted to give you all a safe haven and shelter, not a piece of dirt you''d have to fight to hold onto."


    Morrel slowly nodded and said, "I may have misjudged what you needed to hear... There will always be a fight, Orison. As long as one holds something of value, others will want it. That''s a truth for all people."


    The young mage retreated to lick his wounds in private. He wanted to at least have a night to soak in and digest this new misery before he was ready to share it with others. Sadly, sleep was denied him. Since that was the case, he spent the night drawing up a will of inheritance instead. It cost 200 gold but the next day, Orison registered his will with the Centerland Acadamy to insure no one would tamper with it.


    After he was done, the young mage tracked down Cladius and had a private word with him. "I''m about to have the most awkward conversation with you, so bear with me. This is a vital potion with a secret ingredient, actually a couple. The important thing is, once you and mom have prepared your hearts for it, I want you to take this and make sure this damn place gets an heir. If Droya doesn''t have one, this place won''t get one."


    Claudius spluttered for a bit but eventually got out, "I''d never say a word to slight your mother but... This is, uh, never mind. You think it''ll do the trick then what''s the harm?"


    Orison thought to himself, "Plenty, but nothing you''ll notice or won''t recover from in a couple months. I don''t have time to wait around and see if you shoot blanks or not." To Claudius, he said, "Take it soon. There''s not a lot of winter left and you''ll want as much free time as possible for a couple of weeks."


    The young mage wanted Morrel to hide the fact of Orison, Gan and Rithus'' not so distant departure but didn''t keep it from his two companions.


    "I don''t know what unfinished business you have here but I figured I''d give you as much time as I could," Orison said.


    Gan didn''t have much to say, aside from looking mildly gloomy. Orison knew Gan had grown close with Corvinus and Yulian but the scout had never forgotten that there would be a day of farewell.


    Rithus said, "I have one. I''d like to give these pearls and some gold to my daughter."


    Orison nodded. "I''m not too far off from getting beacon teleports down. It''s funny that I''m having trouble with full mastery of free-hand casts of it after boasting to that b*tch at Fort Frost. As soon as I have some testing logged for safety''s sake, we''ll take a trip to where she is. I would have mentioned it sooner but I didn''t want to get your hopes up til we could go."


    Rithus'' eyes became wide as he said, "No, Orison. I don''t want to go see her. I just want to do this last thing for her. Please don''t think poorly of me or her but I was an embarrassment to her and she was punished many times for my sake. I-I was not the same as you know me now and I tried very hard to hide my... difficulties from everyone. We do not have many fond memories of each other..."


    Orison said, "I dare her to be ''embarrassed'' of you now."


    Rithus waved his hands frantically. "It''s not just that. I look and smell different now. She would only see me as a stranger. Besides, since I am going away with you, I''d rather her continue to be as she is. What would be the point in raising her care for me? I have no desire to make her feel loss or needlessly mourn. I only want to provide for her one last time. It would even be better if she believed it to be from you or maybe fa-Morrel."


    Orison frowned and said, "I just have one question for you and I want truth. Would not seeing your daughter one last time cause you regret."


    For a moment, Orison saw a shadow of the old Rithus, introverted and unsure of himself. "There are already many regrets. Forgiveness has been given and taken but distance was the only thing wanted of me from her. Please, let the memories of the past be buried with our collars and only live in the places within that do not let them die."


    Later that evening, while taking a break from beacon to beacon transfer practice, Orison asked, "It''s not my business but there''s just so much I don''t know about what Morrel and Rithus went through that it drives me nuts sometimes. I have no right to ask and you can tell me to go to the Abyss but I want to know whatever I can about their time as slaves under your father, Therridel."


    The elf glanced sideways at Orison from his book and said, "Firstly, I''ve all but came out and called myself a b*****d to distance myself from him. As far as I can see, not only do you not have the right to ask but I don''t have the right to tell you. Never the less, since you''re bold enough to ask, answering it is the best chastisement I could offer."


    Hearing the answering of his request couched so ominously, Orison began wondering if he''d made a mistake but just like Pandora before him, once the box was opened, the only thing left was to wait until the ill wind had passed to put the lid back on.


    Therridel said, "I won''t bore you with the endless litany of pettiness and cruelty. I''d appreciate putting this unpleasant topic to rest as soon as possible. Morrel is not only Rithus'' father, he''s also his grandfather. The old fiend attempted to do the same with Rithus and Lithis but Morrel put an end to the fruit of that possibility with herbs that I gave him to sterilize Rithus. None were willing and none ever grew to enjoy what they were made to inflict on one another.


    "Drugs and subtle magics were used to accomplish what the collar could not so simply demand of them. And if you think the depravity stops there, you''d be mistaken. It is merely the deeper wound for making a mockery of their affections for each other, hurting them in ways other acts could not.


    "The only reason I believe I have not awoke here with a dagger in my heart or drawn across my throat was due to that bundle of herbs and the problems my death would cause you. I was a coward who could not do what needed to be done when I had the chance but I feared facing execution if it was discover that I was the cause of that man''s death. Even if I had avoided that fate, the house would have tested my parentage the moment he passed away. I would be fortunate to avoid fates comparable to Morrel and Rithus if proven a cuckold''s child.


    "Now, it doesn''t matter. You killed him in the act of breaking Domain law. My disdain and shaming of him when possible proved to be an unexpected boon. Perhaps you can better understand my excessive enthusiasm towards you, at that time. You killed our tormentor. The slaves weren''t the only ones you freed. My mother simply doesn''t have the ability to express anything more positive than ambivalence towards you due to circumstance... Are there any other painful and humiliating questions you''d like to ask me this evening?"


    A pale faced Orison said, "No, and I''m sorry."


    Therridel gave Orison a weak smile, "Don''t be. It is the truest sign of a person designed for greatness in the art to have a strong curiosity. As long as you''re willing to pay the price or carry the burden seeking answers will ask of you, then do so. Save taboo for shamans and dogma for priests. We''re mages."

 57 OEW

    After a week of intense discussion with Patrick and the other skilled laborers, the Cantrip Clan came up with the development plan of their main valley and assets. It was an ambitious project that would take years to complete but each increasing step would bring new revenue and interest to the barony. The whole first year of which would do little to enrich the valley but make it livable and prevent tragedies like the goatherd''s family from happening again.


    All said and done, at the end of four years, the barony would have a lakeside summer retreat to the west and a hot springs getaway to the east. Those would only be the draws, however. The first money earner would be transforming the trails to wide and safe roads capable of being used well into winter and as soon as early spring. These roads would be border taxed with an affordable flat rate not dependent on goods.


    For safety and long term defense, the northern and southern sides of the valley attached to the trails would bottleneck to a large gate. Portions to the left and right of the gates would be bolstered on the inside while being dug out on the outside to create wide ''death drop'' gullies. Over time, the outer areas thus created would turn into additional land for agriculture as well.


    With such a small time window ahead of him, Orison saw the days sift through his fingers. A few days were burnt on discussions about possible future business partners. A few days melted away under a plan to create an undergraduate institution that focused on useful applications of magic to serve people, tentatively called The Centerland Corp of Magic Engineers. Two weeks that extended past first thaw were spent creating a stack of golem and horse summoning scrolls. another week passed on novice magics with a few ''purple fireballs'' to be stored in the clan for emergencies.


    It was nearly the end of early spring when Orison finally broke the news to his mother about his forced leave of absence. Being that she had discovered two days prior that she was pregnant, he thought it was the best time, if there could ever be such a thing. It registered almost immediately that she wasn''t surprised. It wasn''t that anyone had broken confidence, she just knew.


    Droya said sadly, "I was waiting for you to tell me. I had caught on the day you suddenly changed your whole plan. One minute you''re involved in every single aspect then the next you send a will of inheritance and become completely hands-off, as you say."


    Orison said, "I''m keeping some gold but here''s everything else I can''t really take with me. A good deal of it will need-"


    Droya pulled Orison to her chest and said, "I know, I know but I don''t want to talk about that. I don''t want this to be another discussion or plan. Just let me have one more time to hold my son before he''s gone."


    Neither of them knew how long they had stayed that way. Droya felt that after she let go, Orison would no longer belong to her. Orison felt that as soon as he let go, the last small part of his childhood would die. For both of them, this was the true goodbye. The planned formal one might not even happen if he ended up being stuck somewhere else but even if it did, this was the moment his heart and eyes were no longer focused on this world and this life he had tried to make.


    An hour before dawn the next day, while the young mage and Marshlander watched Gan stealthily slip out of Corvinus and Yulian''s cabin with boots in hand, Orison said, "I''ll try to make this as quick as possible. Rithus, the beacon can''t be moved or covered. If it is, we''ll have to go straight to White River without you."


    Flush faced, the scout hurriedly put his boots on and said, "Sorry I''m running late. It was hard to get untangled fr-"


    Orison interrupted, "In truth, you''re right on time. I''m just glad you don''t have a hangover. I can''t believe you had the discipline to hold off on drinking your stash this long."


    Gan looked back at the cabin with reluctance in his eyes. "''Good friends'' like that are hard to find, Little Boss, but I would have always been just a guest in that house. Guests have to leave eventually."


    Rithus said, "An hour''s ride from South Bloom to the village. No more than an hour to find her and no more than a half hour before you return after that, for two and a half hours total."


    Orison nodded and then began constructing the teleportation model. With a certain sense of pride, Orison watched as the two of them were covered in a curtain of light. When the light faded, Gan and Orison found themselves staring at dingy walls.


    A mussy haired older gentleman said, "Welcome to the southernmost mage''s guild in Centerland. I can''t even begin to imagine what''s so important that you''d pay 400 gold in correspondence but I don''t want to know. It''s fifty gold for upkeep."


    Orison handed a small leather pouch to the old mage and said, "Extra ten for the early morning."


    The man smiled and said, "Nice to be appreciated. Pleasant journeys."


    Once led outside, Orison summoned two horses after he donned his mask.


    "These early morning runs aren''t as enjoyable when I''m not free to watch the scenery," Gan said over the rushing wind between them as the two horses gave all they had to help their riders reach their destination.


    Orison snorted. "Unless I need to conserve my magic reserves, just woke up Gan and a little tipsy Gan gets their own Enbarr from now on for the same reason lonely for awhile Gan would get one."


    The scout chuckled in embarrassment before lapsing into silence. That silence was broken by a grunt close to sunrise. When Orison turned to see why Gan had made such a noise, an arrow glanced off his mask, leaving a scratch down the side of his horse''s neck.


    The young mage rode low as he edged his horse over to Gan''s as quickly as he could. Not for a moment did he have either horse slow down. Once he noticed that the scout''s injury was an arm flesh wound, he let the horses keep running for a few miles before bringing them to a stop.


    With practiced speed, the young mage broke the arrow after pushing it out the other side of Gan''s bicep. Ignoring the scout''s cursing, Orison removed the two pieces of the arrow and doused the wound in grain alcohol. As Gan let out a muffled scream through clenched teeth, Orison hit the wound with a ''presto'' before slapping an improved heal on it.


    The scout looked back at the road behind them with murder in his eyes. "Have we made good enough time to go back there and rip those little pieces of sh*t to jerky?"


    Orison shook his head and said, "Sadly, we''re going to have to swallow this insult. They might have not been as good as Morrel but this is their home turf. We might not be able to track those Marshlander''s down if we had all day... Remind me to pick you up a buckler. If you''re good enough to block your face with your arm, it might give you a better alternative.... Looks like you''re going to get your way after all. You''re on arrow catcher duty again."


    Orison dismissed Enbarr Two and brought out a modified tower shield with shoulder straps then handed it to Gan.


    Once Gan was seated behind Orison, the scout complained, "This damn thing makes me feel like a turtle."


    "Tell me that again once your back is tough enough not to spring leaks from a longbow shot," Orison retorted.


    The precaution had ended up being unnecessary. Both of them sighed in relief once the Centerland sentries just outside a small village that resembled a wooden fortress came into view.


    The right sentry said, "Halt. Lead rider, remove your mask. I need your names and purpose for visit."


    Orison gave his name and title then asked after Lithis.


    The left sentry denied having heard of a Highland baron and looked ready to start trouble but the right sentry stopped him and said, "Keep your visit as ''silent'' as possible, Baron. These are troubled times."


    Orison nodded and replied, "Despite what my reputation may paint me as, I''m a better friend to ''order'' than any have right to expect. After this, I''m heading far north by beacon. Since you''ve showed me some courtesy, if you have any messages for family, I can swing them to post via White River."


    The undercover Order member gave a surprised smile and said, "I have a brother up that way and it takes ages to get in touch with him. I''ll be relieved in about a half bell or so."


    Orison and the sentry shared a few more pleasantries, including the whereabouts of Lithis. Since the Marshlander had taken up a job as a server in the local tavern, Orison would wait for the sentry there. When the young mage and scout arrived there, they discovered that Lithis wouldn''t be on duty til that evening. After assuring the matronly Marshlader of the establishment that they were only inquiring to deliver a package from her father, she gave them directions to Lithis'' home.


    Upon seeing the hovel she lived in, the young mage sighed. He didn''t have a good impression of Lithis'' husband when they first met and that impression didn''t improve when Orison saw the man trying to use the Danann Key to rob a house. Reigning in the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Orison knocked on the door. It took three tries before a bleary eyed Lithis answered. In the background, a baby wailed but there was no other noise in the house.


    "Stranger, please tell me this is important. It will be some time before I can get my little girl back to sleep again," she said wearily.


    Orison smiled and said, "Is it that hard to recognize me after growing a few inches and not having a dirty face?"


    Clueless, Lithis said, "If I''ve showed you some kindness before then I''m glad to see you doing better. If it''s not much trouble, I have a spare silver if you''d be able to get a decent meal to my husband. I''m only able to visit the stocks once a week but I''ve heard that some Marshlanders have starved to death in there. I''d consider it good turn enough if you''d do that for me."


    Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Orison tried again. "I believe you lost the key I made you. Something else I made may have popped up and ate it. Apparently, magic is still surprising me with it''s unpredictability as it did when we first met."


    Lithis looked at Orison more keenly as her nostril slits discreetly widened a little. "You do not smell or look familiar to me. As for this key business, I have no idea-"


    Irritated, Orison said, "I told an abyssal lord to suck his mom''s spiky t*ts. You called me son of Ori confusing my name for a Northerner''s... It doesn''t matter. I''ve brought some things for you but I really don''t want to give them to you out here. Please invite us in for like five seconds so I can be on my way if you don''t feel like catching up on old times."


    Still wary, Lithis backed away from the open door. Keeping herself between the visitors and her crying daughter, she gestured at a splintered wooden table with only three good legs.


    She said, "No offense, if you are who you say but life is hard here and I''m very tired. As you can see and have heard, I have an infant and a husband in the stocks. His family was not as welcoming as we had hoped and my job is the only thing keeping us from starving."


    Orison only half paid attention as he opened the small sack of pearls wide enough for her to see the contents and set them beside a small carved wooden box filled with nearly all the gold Rithus had managed to save since he began working for Orison and Droya.


    In spite of what he was requested, Orison said, "Everything on this table came from Rithus. Getting these to you was the only personal request he''s ever made to me. He didn''t even want you to know they were from him but I want you to know."


    Staring at the money, Lithis said, "I apologize for the rudeness. If it''s not much trouble, could you take fifty of that and redeem my husband before he''s sold?"


    Orison frowned. "Centerland soldiers are selling prisoners?"


    Lithis said, "Oh, no. There is a Domain trade post southeast of here, not too far. You may have small trouble getting in but they''ll respect your coin fast enough."


    Orison shook his head. "One question, Lithis. If I get him out, what will happen to the rest of that gold? You were sent down here with a couple years worth of comfortable living but I find you in a hovel. I don''t want to know why. I just want to know if I''ll still see you in a hovel a few months from now if I get him out."


    On the verge of tears, Lithis said. "He''s the father of my child. What am I supposed to do?"


    Orison stated bluntly, "Do what''s right for the child and for yourself. That''s what a mother is supposed to do."


    She continued offering reasons she didn''t seemed convinced of herself before Orison cut her off. "I''m going to guess that he didn''t receive a warm welcome from his family because he''s a trouble maker and a thief. Go back and see if they''ll take you in without him or you can come back with me to the north if you want support. Droya will be more than happy to make room for you with our family and the Marshlander woman that lives with us would be glad of some familiar company."


    Lithis stood stunned for a moment before she said, "Thank you for bringing me this. I- I''ll take my chances down here. Tell my father that I understand better now and I appreciate this but it''s enough."


    The young mage shrugged and walked out.


    As they walked back to the tavern, Gan said, "This is Rithus'' daughter. Isn''t there anything else to be done? You spent more getting here than was in that box."


    Orison sighed. "She''s barely surviving but she was going to give what little she had on a chance to get a meal to the man whose poor decision making skills landed her in this mess. I don''t even trust her with what Rithus wanted her to have but that was his to give... We don''t have much time but I''ll see what I can do."


    When they got back to the tavern, Orison ordered them both a breakfast and struck up a conversation with the matron there while he waited on the Order agent. The whole situation on the Marshland border was a hot mess and many of the surrounding native families had migrated deeper in. Rumors of a large militant group with ideas of kingdom building had started emerging. She intimated that if business started slowing down much more, she was going to be moving as well.


    Orison had to admit that the meal was amazing, almost worth the subtle poison that was in it. After paying the woman and curing Gan, they lounged around for a few more minutes, nursing a poison free ale apiece. And handful of minutes past half bell and Orison stood up ready to leave as the soldier that they had been waiting on came in with false sheer on his face.


    The man said, "Sorry for the wait. There''s a few things that I needed to look in on before I came. I know it''s a little untoward but is there a possibility that you''d help me look over my letter. I can write my name well enough but I''ve been told my writing skills are quite problematic."


    In a more serious and sincere tone, he said, "I could really use your expertise."


    Orison sighed but nodded. "A half bell is all I can afford to lend."


    The man looked at Gan in askance but Orison insisted the scout come along or he wasn''t going. The young mage explained that it would not be the first time Gan had been acquainted with Orison''s dealings with extended family of friends. He got the impression the man would have balked if the need wasn''t so great.


    After being led by the man back to his home and brought past his ''wife'', the soldier brought them to his cellar door. Behind it...was a cellar. At least, it was only a cellar til the man closed the door and reached for a latch in the dark. Orison would have no difficulty finding that latch himself because the cellar''s entire interior had been splashed with blood at one time or another. No matter how well the cellar had been cleaned the blood''s ghostly remnants shimmered in bluish-white florescence to Orison.


    In a dimly lit environment, much like Portia''s chapter house in aesthetic, the young mage saw an old man and equally old woman of Centerland descent rushing between over a dozen convalescing people of varying ethnicity.


    The man said, "It''s my job to know names and faces but I didn''t really know anything about you beyond that. Gelphus did and urged me to invite you respectfully."


    Upon hearing his name, the old man turned towards them and a faint scarlet luminescence shown in his eyes.


    Gan muttered so low Orison almost didn''t hear it. "Of course, it''s a vampire."

 58 OEW

    Gelphus spoke in a frail voice, "Would that there was time for proper greetings. By reputation, I know you to be a learned young man of healing and this situation has me perplexed. An entire chapter house was completely brought low without a single strike against it. I''d wager that the Night Matron herself weeps tears of hysterical laughter over such a ludicrous situation."


    Orison didn''t approach them as he asked, "What do you know of their condition and what treatments have you tried?"


    The old vampire said, "They simply appear to be poisoned. Inflammation of the kidney and liver are the only symptoms but they steadily worsen. As for treatment, I''ve administered two emetics to clear the digestive track and promote sweating. My colleague is currently doling a charcoal based elixir which does show some signs of slowing down the decline but it is only a time buying measure at best."


    After spending half of his available time exhausting what little actual medical knowledge he came to this world with and what had came with his supernaturally granted alchemy expertise, he was still stumped. With little else to add since he was warned that magic healing would kill them almost immediately, he asked about their last assignments which were varied and non focused but one stood out. The first to be brought in, deceased for half a day by the point Orison had arrived, had been sent to answer a sacrament to kill a witch that had half completed a folksy curse.


    For lack of anything else he could do, Orison knelt down and touched the abdomen of the one closest to death. Immediately, Orison felt something akin to a spark of static charge attempt to jump to his hand. With the weakening of his world acceptance barrier, the spark invaded but was pulled into his space by instinct. With nothing to cling to, the spark flared into a dark light pattern before dispersing.


    Inspired but unsure, Orison suggested, "It may seem unorthodox but drown one of the stronger ones and revive them. I couldn''t even begin to guess the method but it looks like a killing curse that can jump from person to person. I think you''re safe from it, Gelphus, but what about you, mam? Have you touched any of them directly?"


    The old lady said, "At my age, I fear contact of any kind with the ill. No, I have not."


    It wasn''t ideal but after seeing the first to be drowned show signs of recovery, they mercilessly drowned the rest. Only about half survived and by the end, Orison direly wished he knew of a better method. He wasn''t even sure if he was right or if whatever was affecting them was coincidentally stopped. There was even a good chance that whatever affected them might only be temporarily stopped and return again but he''d given it his best effort and told them so.


    Once they were done the old vampire, with no sign of remorse over the loss of half his patients, said with a smile, "Quite a novel treatment, kill to save."


    Feeling unsettled, Orison said. "I''m not that sure. Best to get someone with knowledge on curses to make a follow-up as soon as possible. I''m really getting short on time though."


    The old woman said, "That''s the problem with youth, always in such a hurry. I heard you''re going to Whiteriver. Do you have room for one more? I''m not asking for myself. I have a granddaughter who needs to make her way to a chapter house up there. Too many sacraments are piling up and it''s not easy to find recruits that don''t need at least a year or two of training before they''re ready to start murdering smartly."


    "I''m leaving in a 500 count," Orison said, starting to get irritated.


    The old lady turned to the Centerland soldier and said, "You heard the impatient boy. I can''t very well run to fetch her myself!"


    Orison muttered to himself, "Whose doing who the favor here, old hag?"


    While the young mage waited and Gan fidgeted around nervously, Gelphus brought a stack of missives that resembled a month''s worth of tied up paper recyclables. "This safe house is quite isolated and rarely used more than once or twice a year. Add that to a temporarily dismantled chapter with all their records and it''s quite the collection of small favors you''re racking up on this delivery."


    Orison said, "I do have a favor I could use in return."


    Warily, the old vampire said, "Speak it."


    "There''s a Marshlander woman with a baby girl named Lithis in this village. She''s the daughter of a friend. I''d like to make sure she''s cared for to the extent that you can offer for whatever I''ve earned here," Orison said.


    Gelphus looked thoughtful as he said, "That name sounds familiar..."


    The old vampire walked over to one of the two surviving Marshlanders laying on the floor and pulled out a potion that Orison thought looked familiar before pouring into the reptilian man''s mouth.


    "Takris, remind me the name of the girl you''re always going on about is. Yes, I know you never told me directly but I have keen ears and you never shut up when you are ''home''." the old vampire said.


    Dazed and jittery, the Marshlander said, "Lithis?"


    The old vampire said, "What do you know about her situation?"


    Takris jogged his foggy brain and said, "Too soft and delicate to make good here. Elf blood''s so strong you can smell it. I mean, I know YOU can smell it but Marshlanders can. Ebb and I got in a fight over her but we made good. Whoever can find a reason to kill her husband without getting in trouble with you can steal her and her daughter for their family without the other interfering... Oh, heard her husband tried to break into that p*ss elf commander''s house. Was going to put some skull cap in a soup for him before we got sick."


    Orison asked, "If she''s so desirable, why did her husband''s clan kick her out?"


    The Marshlander looked at the old vampire as if to say ''who''s this guy?'' "Er, best guess would be that their matron thought she''d get more males on her side and take over or something. Could just be the elf blood, though. Older families are weird about that kind of stuff. Too pretty''s just as bad as ugly around here."


    Gelphus said, "She''s now a charge of The Order as repayment for favor. You''re clear to use assignment funds to get close to her but if you screw it up, I''ll find someone else. Whether you can mix business with personal is up to that young man over there... Out of the seven who survived, this Marshlander here looked to be fighting it off. Even if it comes back I think he has a good chance of survival. Is that sufficient, Baron?"


    Orison nodded and said, "Maybe it''s better this way. Don''t force yourself on her and I could care less what the two of you decide to do with each other but take care of her daughter too."


    The Marshlander smiled widely, showing a long row of carnivorous teeth. "No problem. My family outside of The Order is small and the Matron''s old. No one will cause her any problems I or my birth siblings can''t solve. If I win her over, she''ll be deep marsh. It''ll be safe and away from the worst there."


    Behind the out of breath soldier carrying two large packs was a stunning raven haired beauty. As much as Orison attempted to project ambivalence, it was difficult not to become a little more self aware when the curvy woman walked over to him. The vivid green eyes that locked on to him were too knowing to be considered flirtatious and that kept Orison from being dumbstruck in the same fashion that Lyris could evoke. The woman was a little too much.


    The woman flashed a set of perfect teeth and said, "You are the teleport specialist?"


    Orison replied with a benign smile, "I''m running late and don''t have time for this. Get your sh*t over here and place it carefully around that satchel."


    The old woman started cackling madly. For a moment Orison wondered if he''d have to waste more time keeping her from having a stroke. The young woman frowned and sweetly asked the soldier to do it which the man fell over himself to accomplish.


    After Orison had the three of them and the woman''s things organized he began casting as the old woman said, "Your new chapter leader may look like a little girl but she''s a terrifyingly old monster. Be respectful and don''t get tangled with her protege."


    The young lady''s annoyed acknowledgment was cut off by a curtain of light. Once the light cleared, the young woman said, "Where is this?"


    While Rithus, Gan and Orison shuffled themselves so all four fit, the young mage answered, "Grabbing my other companion. It''ll only take a moment."


    Orison ignored the woman''s disapproving frown as he began casting with a half dozen friendly faces waving and calling out in the surrounding tropical hidden village. Gan and Rithus both gave her a cold stare until she sheathed her daggers. For a second, Orison admired the ingenuity of the wide woven belt that rested lazily on her hips. He hadn''t been aware of her being armed at all.


    When the light cleared again, they were standing at the bottom of a well, neck deep in water.


    Orison momentarily panicked as he thought. "Sh*t, I forgot! Good thing it''s not higher."


    Fastest thinker among them when it came to watery situations, Rithus grabbed the satchel and one of the woman''s packs and lifted them above his head. As she lifted the other she shot Orison a scathing look and then the Marshlander a grateful one. The young mage closed his eyes and focused entirely on the thread of connection that lay between this point and the much more intricate magic circle that lay in Portia''s chapter house.


    There had been enough traveling between the two that a temporal line made of spirit and magic lay like a cable he could follow. As he cast, Orison allowed the coordinates portion of his math to naturally draw and align itself with the line. With a surging flash, they arrived with several galleons of water washing out into the cavern. An ancient vampire in full terrifying glory came storming their direction as Orison called out, "Portia, I''m sorry about the mess but I forgot about spring run off."


    The monstrous visage stopped and said, "Never again appear like this-your heart out!"


    Orison muttered, "How I''ve missed the both of you."


    Slowly and with great effort, Portia began to take on her little girl form as she said, "What is the life threatening situation that brings you here unannounced- too early for dinner."


    With the woman looking all too happy to let him fend for himself, the young mage said, "This thing here, is yours. Oh, and so is this thing." taking turns pointing at the soggy satchel and the woman. "Give me a moment to fix the first one. I don''t know what to tell you about the second. I believe it''s beyond repair."


    The woman flashed a look that promised murder at Orison as she turned around and reported in to her new leader. The young mage flashed multiple uses of presto and repair to dry the stacks and put ink back where it ran from. Thankfully, a great deal of the most important writings, such as the chapter records, seemed to be both resistant to water and ink smudges. When Orison''s tank had nearly bottomed out, the young mage felt he''d done all he could and sat just outside the circle with Gan and Rithus. Comically, the Marshlander had kept his eyes closed and tucked his head between his knees like he was in a crashing airplane.


    Once Portia had dismissed the woman, who likely didn''t share her name because such things were for The Order only, the ancient little vampire girl approached Orison again and said, "This counts as breaking the silence. The Marshlander I may have been able to abide but the Northlander is a serious breach of consideration. -pain"


    Orison frowned. "Nub liked him just fine. We even went on adventures together."


    "You never took this Northlander to Nub''s actual safe house either. -soul out," the little vampire said.


    Orison sighed, "We''ll be gone in a couple of months. The world doesn''t want me here anymore and they''re coming with me."


    Portia blinked and said, "What does that even mean? -ploy for mercy?"


    The young mage explained what he could then said, "The rest of this, the records and people baggage were just coincidences. I originally was coming here to tie up family affairs. I figured I''d try to catch up with my brother one last time and see if there was anything I could do for my future sister-in-law among other things."


    Orison thought since she was being difficult about it, he might as well go straight for the big guns.


    Small points of color brightened Portia''s pale cheeks as she said, "Enough foolishness. - fire in the void. I''ll overlook this but they will not remember what they''ve seen, though I will allow them to remember what they''ve heard. -out alive!"


    Unfortunately, Venito and Lyra were out on some kind of adventure or another and Portia had no idea when they''d be back. As much as Orison could tell how this irritated Portia, there was nothing she could do since there were targets on a list and it would take a month or more to get them done. Ultimately, she was an old and patient predator. Such a small amount of mortal time likely meant nothing to her.


    After discussion, what Portia desired most was a few sets of elite gear. She got her shiny new enchanter''s board but The Order was dragging feet to supply an enchanter. In reality, she had gone dark for over a decade and The Order had written her off. It was proving difficult to reestablish after going rogue during ''the time of true silence''. When they no longer had one who could hear the whispers of sacrament, Portia had written ''them'' off, thinking that the Night Matron had completely abandoned them.


    With a small sack of gold handed to them, Orison let Portia separate him from Gan and Rithus since he didn''t want them getting their brains scrambled by the vampire. With an enchanter''s work bench before him, he''d lose himself to work anyway and there was no reason to let them skulk around in a dangerous place they weren''t overly welcomed in. In a surprising turn, Portia did let Rithus visit the chapter house''s shrine before taking them to White River.


    With one last goodbye to his faithful boots that had been with him since the beginning, Orison deconstructed the model that would let him recreate silent step. The process repeated with poison resistance, elemental resistance and the regeneration enchantments. Step by step, Orison used Portia''s collection of crystal bones with a few grains of his own dust as sources to make seven sets of gear. When Portia or the woman he had brought here weren''t milling about, he''d make an item or two using his superior crystal material til he''d made four more, much stronger sets, on the sly.


    Done with that, Orison turned to scrolls. With the work bench before him, his rate of production was ten times faster and easier for the golem and fireball scrolls. After a nauseating amount of failures, Orison even managed to make a single beacon teleport scroll tied to the well at White River. He, of course, changed to novice ones, some better heal and a few cure poison scrolls while he was being watched. It annoyed him how heavy-handed Portia was being about her shares but since it was for Venito too, he tried not to mind.


    On a day while Portia was resting and the femme fatale was absent, Orison bundled all he had secretly created and boxed it. Using the smaller but sturdy practice beacon Orison had hidden in Droya''s ''she shack'' inside the Cantrip Cave, the young mage teleported the special enchanted sets and scrolls. It made him chuckle a little thinking about how his mom would react to the bulging, cracked floorboards in the corner of her getaway spot. At first, he was going to leave specific instructions on who got what but after thinking about it, he left it up to her. The only instructions inside, explained what the items and scrolls did and a P.S. that simply said ''Love you, mom.''


    Venito''s arrival at the chapter house signaled the end of Orison''s work. Portia assured that the stacks of scrolls and bundled lesser enchanted items that were his ''share'' would make it to the people he had them listed for. All the people that had shown him or the people he cared about a little kindness along the way such as Thorrinson and the ''orange kerchief'' server at the inn would get a little present and a note in the night.


    Orison''s brother was a simple person at heart. After learning about his little brother''s imminent departure, Venito took a two day leave of absence and brought Orison back to his house along with ''the new girl'' and a couple of his buddies from ''work''. Gan and Rithus, who had been staying at the inn were also invited.


    Not big on showing feelings with words, Venito just got everyone hammered and then got mushy for a few seconds once he was fairly sure Orison wouldn''t remember. Seemingly intent to make sure, he got everyone into some kind of drinking game no one could remember that clearly. Sadly for Venito, he hadn''t taken into accountability his own mischievous nature and poor self discipline when drinking. And despite how much more resilient and fast recovering he was, Orison was a little faster in waking up.

 59 OEW

    Orison awoke with a throbbing head, dry mouth and a full bladder. With his eyes clearing, one to the material world and one to the essences around him, the young mage took stock of his current situation. Due to the weight of a woman he didn''t recognize, his right leg was filled with an unpleasant pins-and-needles sensation.


    Looking at the blond haired girl with a heart shaped face that looked pleasant enough while sleeping that he didn''t immediately wig out over his situation, Orison shifted his attention to where her face was laying. At some point, the lacing on his pants had been ripped open and left that way, revealing a part of himself to the world he''d rather not remain that way. With a painful hiss that he tried to keep quite, the young mage packed his goods away, noting teeth scrapes that hurt enough to warrant a touch of healing before further assessment.


    Inching his way out from underneath the woman, Orison began taking in the rest of the room. Booming head fading to a duller, more manageable thud, He realized that he was currently in the master bedroom. Further spanning his vision, he saw that his brother had, at some point, not been content to just watch whatever scene he had orchestrated unfold. What Orison''s booze addled mind couldn''t piece together, his spiritual sub-mind helped him fill in.


    Whether by coin or coaxing, the pretty blond lady had taken it upon herself to get acquainted with the sleeping mage. Whilst in the midst of impatiently preparing him for deeper introductions, Orison''s older brother had become infatuated with the other heart shaped feature of the young lady. Despite the unexpected ''intrusion'' into the physical conversation, the kind lady attempted to converse with them both in the most natural way available. Unfortunately for Orison, his older brother was a rough conversationalist, causing their own communication to have issues that resulted in light injuries. Seeing that, even having fallen asleep, his older brother and the lady hadn''t technically ended their conversation, Orison quietly excused himself.


    Having successfully exited the bedroom, Orison''s focus shifted to finding a place to relieve himself. As he contemplated the best way to step over a couple that used their own clothes as bedding, blocking the way down the stairs, the young mage saw Lyra surveying the battlefield. Even with a light hangover she still managed to exude the aura of a valkyrie assessing the fallen for worthiness.


    "It''s only third bell, Orison. There''s no place for you to sneak off to and avoid helping with the cleanup," Lyra said while smirking.


    The young mage quietly chuckled, "There''s going to be a lot more to clean up if I don''t find a chamber pot soon."


    Taking another small sip from her cup, she said, "Sadly, my room is a body free zone. As long as you''re capable of hitting the target without shooting wide, you can use mine."


    A few moments later, half embarrassed but 200% relieved, Orison found an outlet for his worries in Lyra''s room. Torn loops on his trousers betrayed his hopes as gravity cruelly bared his assets to the woman he realized was watching him from the doorway. He could have caught the pants before they had slipped to his ankles but he was a little too concerned what would happen if he took his attention off his current task with the chamber pot.


    A soft click of closing door with even softer pads of bare feet made the young mage wish he could finish his business much faster than what nature would safely allow. A cold, narrow, calloused hand caressed his backside as another worked under his shirt and over his belly. Soft weight rested against his back as wine soaked breath tickled against his neck and ear.


    "In another year or two it might not be true but you really are pretty enough to be a girl. So much like my shield sister from that time, soft in the right places, hard where there''s need to be," Lyra said in a slurred whisper.


    Orison took a sharp intake of air due to cold fingers and unexpected stimulation. Being compared to a girl yet again by her rankled but he was a little too compromised to be thinking about such complex thoughts too carefully.


    She continued, "I''m going to make myself comfortable. If you can be a good girl who knows how to clean her plate then I''ll let you have dessert. If not, then I guess I''ll just have to wash the dishes myself."


    Amid the sounds of rustling clothes and a creaking bed frame, Orison stood frozen in indecision as bruised ego warred with desire and a small amount of compassion. In the end, ego lost to numbers and a stronger opponent. A little later, knowledge from another life and a pair of misty ocean eyes framed and held tightly by strong thighs gave a pair of cold blue ones the special kisses they craved. And if in the process of the young mage getting what he wanted and needed, a slightly higher pitched voice and shamefully worded whispers to closed eyes were used to protect the fantasy, then that was their business.


    When they were done, Lyra gave out a temporarily sated sigh and with a somewhat guilt laden voice, she said, "I''m not one for cuddling. Not to be cruel but I''d like to be alone right now."


    Orison slowly nodded before slipping his clothes back on, casting a mend on his trouser loops and trying not to look a little hurt as he quietly slipped out of his second room of the night. Closing the door behind him, Orison looked ahead to see Venito standing outside of the master bedroom with complex emotions on the Northlander''s face. The young mage didn''t know what to expect so instead of trying to slip past his older brother, he climbed over the railing and soundlessly jumped to a clear spot on the floor below before walking outside.


    Still a little before dawn, the crisp mid-spring air of the Northlands would be too chilly for most but it was a negligible thing for Orison. Venito didn''t seem much bothered by it either as the older brother caught up and silently walked beside the young mage. Once they found a relatively private spot on an eastern wall lookout point, they both turned to look at the predawn sky.


    In a voice laden with complicated feelings, Venito said, "Was it as good as we imagined?"


    The message Orison heard between the words went more along the lines of ''Why her instead of any other woman'' or ''Why you and not me?''


    The young mage looked at his older brother and said, "What she wanted, what I had to be for her, was a girl she used to know. I''d be lying if I said I didn''t enjoy myself but now I feel empty and trying not to take being unwelcome to stay, personal."


    Venito chuckled mirthlessly, "When you put it like that..."


    The young assassin leaned on the stone and mortar safety wall before he drew up a fist to head height and slammed it down with the force of a fully swung eight pound hammer. Aside from a bit of redness on the side of his hand, no one would be able to guess that the dislodged stone and mortar chips were caused by Venito''s ham-fist strike.


    "Couldn''t you have just let me rough you up a little? Do you always have to be so damn serious and clever?" Venito said with a watery smile.


    Orison shook his head and said, "Serious and honest. And no, only to the people I care about. In this world, this life, you''re my one and only manwh*re of a big brother."


    The assassin speechlessly blinked a couple of times then smiled wickedly. "Says my girly faced little brother who had to pretend to be one to become a man."


    Orison smiled bitterly, "Too low. Too soon."


    Venito hooked an arm around Orison''s shoulder and lightly headbutted him from the side as they faced the eastern horizon. With the first light of false dawn, the assassin finally dropped his arm. For the only time Orison could ever remember, Venito seemed a little hesitant to let go rather than looking relieved and accomplished.


    "Took it for granted you''d be around. I think I''m going to hate not being able to find you whenever I feel like it," Venito said with his back to his little brother.


    Continuing to look out at the starry sky, Orison said, "You have a plot for a hot springs cabin and another for a lake house up on my land. Let mom know whether you want to get them built yourself or if you just want her to take care of it."


    Venito chuckled with false cheer as he said, "I''ve already got two houses. Now I''ve got to worry about two more?"


    Orison smiled to himself, "With all the future wives and mistresses you''re racking up, you''re going to need places to put them all."


    Walking away, Venito said, "In that case, I might need a couple more... Better find yourself something to do for awhile. I''m going to see how loud I can get that wild girl waiting for me to howl. I want to know if I can get her to clear the house AND clean it."


    Orison muttered to himself, "Absolutely ruthless."


    Walking the long way around, Orison shuffled by a sudden soft orange glow coming from the front porch of the smithy. It wasn''t a surprise. Orison had seen a faint glowing blue shape standing there long before he reached it.


    "Still getting up before the sun, Volta?" Orison said letting his eyes'' glow brighten for a second.


    "Back so soon? Did Centerland kick you out too?" Volta shot back.


    Orison snorted, "Close enough. Made me a baron and stuck me in the mountains over by their northern border by the west coast."


    The blacksmith''s wife looked over Orison and said, "Must have been the Abyss itself on that island. You don''t look a day under sixteen."


    Orison sighed, "Ran afoul of an artifact. Coincidentally, that was next to an Abyss gate. Verified by Frost Fort''s archmage to have aged me to seventeen. That''s not something you can spread though. You''ll get me in trouble with him, the Abyss gate part I mean... Since I ran into you, did you ever find the owner of that ring?"


    Volta said, "There were a few that tried to pass it off as theirs but not a soul could get it right. The proper thing to do is give it back since you''re the one who found it but I have a little request I''d like from you first. For the trouble, you understand."


    Chuckling, the young mage said, "Alright, lets hear it."


    Volta said, "I''d like you to come to the temple and tell my brother and his friend all the good things you''ve done. Let them share a little of your glory."


    A part of Orison wanted to say no but there was a chance that the ring could be a boundary item. It might not have anything special about it but, as Lily said, every boundary item is valuable. Girding his resolve, the young mage followed Volta to the temple to earn back his maybe valuable ring.


    When he first arrived in the hall where the nameless warrior stood, Orison began telling his story like he was thinking out loud. Something about being sensitive to the energy around him, paying attention to everything he did, made him take it a lot more seriously than he originally intended. By the time he finished his adventures, he was speaking to the nameless statue like a friend who silently listened to his woes and triumphs, sharing his joy and pain.


    Orison''s logical side was telling him that it was just the power of faith doing what it was directed to do but there seemed to be something deeper to it that defied explanation. Within that part the young mage couldn''t understand lied a kernel of hope for any who fall. It was like a slim chance of renewal and continuance that Orison found a sense of comfort from, a solace from the nightmare of the reality he understood. At the same time, it also made him feel humble. There were things, maybe even entities, much greater than himself that cared, loved on a level beyond mortal understanding, to counterbalance the madness inducing chaotic ambivalence and malice of the alien forces he had brushed against.


    It only lasted a brief moment but Orison had what could only be called a vision. Whether it was a hallucination induced by his own hopes and desires or if a higher power was showing him a glimpse into the fate of the fallen virtuous, he didn''t know. Within that vision he saw the two men who fell to the necromancers, bolstered by his tale, a little stronger and brighter. They beckoned to him and showed him a blurry figure of a man who turned to him sending a sensation of pride, sorrow and a bittersweet happiness tinged with guilt.


    Orison may not have been able to recognize the person by sense but the emotions painted a picture that could only fit one person, Baulder. Once again, logic could not grasp a small part of whatever experience just befell him. Orison had not though of Baulder for quite some time and yet the man appeared, just enough doubt to cause unease at blindly accepting the cold theory of faith essence inspired hallucination. Whatever the case, the young mage left the temple feeling a little lighter, a bit cleaner in a way he couldn''t express.


    Seeing the complex look of mild bewilderment mixed with a touch of spiritual euphoria, Volta said, "It happens from time to time. Not often, mind you but every now and then. They reach out to you or you reach to them and for just a moment, you can see them or feel their presence. It''s not a big thing. It''s so you know they are well where they are. It''s to help you move on and to let them do so as well... Death is just the beginning. No one should seek death for what happens on this side holds importance but neither should we be afraid of it."


    Some of it had been forced on him but Orison had made his choice. There was a place and a path for those who led simple and virtuous lives that was, in its own way, no worse than ''climbing''. The reward for such a life may be only theoretical but his path was no different. The thorns and brambles of staying true to ones own heart were no easier to overcome and just as possible to fail. Such was the revelation that had been granted to him. There was no bitterness or regret in that understanding for Orison. In fact, it released some of the shackles of worry and anxiety over leaving loved ones and friends, whether close or at the fringe of the circle his acceptance and care drew.


    As they left the temple, the eighth bell rung. With a small amount of hesitation that seemed to bring a slight cloud of confusion in her eyes, Volta gave Orison the ring and walked away on her own business. Despite her brusqueness, the young mage had a new found appreciation for her. Underneath that layer of blunt action and sharp tongue lay a heart of gold for those who could earn her esteem. He chuckled to himself at the fortunes of her husband, a man who was blessed and cursed with a woman like her, in equal measure.


    Since he was a noble in another country''s domain, to be courteous, Orison went to the great hall and said his greetings to the legate there and explained his visit as being one of pleasure, not business. Because it was protocol, the legate passed on the information to Lord Whiteriver''s aid and asked the young mage to wait on a response whether the Lord desired to see him before he was free to carry on with his visit. Of all the things he''d not miss when he arrived elsewhere as an unknown, a nobody, it would be the absurd amount of bureaucracy and observance of custom that came with entitlement.


    The aid came in with burning ears about half a bell later to say, "His Lordship is currently entertaining an important visitor and expresses some regret in not being able to hear of your adventures. He, er, encourages you spend as much of your coin as possible but advises against poaching the, uh, beauties of his land." The aid''s face grew redder as he continued, "If, if y-you absolutely cannot live without a Northland woman then she m-must carry no bounty greater than thus."


    The poor aid looked close to dying of embarrassment as he mimed breasts upon his own chest with his hands to the size of somewhere between a B to a C cup. The legate looked onward blandly, somewhat jaded to Lord Whiteriver''s sense of humor.


    Orison pretended to fish a box from inside his robes as he summoned it from his space and handed to the aid. "It''s a mere token of my gratitude towards your lordship. It''s nothing much, just a ring that staves off weariness and will help fight off poisons to a small degree." Orison leaned in and whispered, "Let no one examine or test it other than what is absolutely needful. It''s quite a bit stronger than the average of its kind and that could elicit some greed and curiosity of its origin that I''d rather avoid."


    As the aid nodded with understanding, the legate said somewhat ruefully, "I suppose I should be grateful not to be thrown from this office and be assaulted but I can''t help feeling a little disappointment for meeting the boy marvel who survived Obsidian Island and have no token to remember the moment by."


    Orison couldn''t help cracking a small smile over the admirably straightforward but ultimately shameless gift begging. He thought over it for a moment and pulled out a few small sealed porcelain pots.


    Pointing at them, Orison said, "A little trophy from my walk though horror. It''s scarlet flower resin. It''s contraband in our home country but commonly used here to bring relief to the injured. It slipped my mind to turn it in. It might be a bit lazy of me to dump it on you like this but I just don''t want to deal with the paperwork. Could I entrust you to dispose of it in any way you see fit?"


    A knowing smile flicked past the legate''s face as he gathered up the porcelain pots. With an affected seriousness, the legate assured Orison that it was no trouble to leave the minor bothersome task to him.

 60 OEW

    After leaving Lord Whiteriver''s meeting hall, Orison swung into the mercenary guild. After scanning the place and ignoring the recruit on ''greeting duty'', the young mage walked up to the first ''special'' member he could find.


    Whispering too quietly for normal ears to hear, Orison said, "I need to speak with your alpha. I have a special delivery."


    The man eyed him warily but rushed off to report their visitor after barking for the other loiterers in the main room/dining hall to keep their eyes on their guest. A few minutes later Orison stood before a mostly gray haired but still powerful looking Northlander.


    The grizzled warrior gave Orison a once over but whatever he judged from it was lock away behind a seamless poker face. "Get on with it. What unpleasantness awaits us today?"


    Orison smiled faintly and said, " I need a large, lidded container half filled with ice. If you don''t have the ice then bring me a few buckets of water. If you don''t have the container I need, get one."


    With a raised eyebrow, the old wolf sent someone to fetch what was requested. It took a bit of time since the young mage was presented with buckets of water first but soon enough, with the help of his degree shift spell, he had enough chipped ice to half fill the empty ale barrel they had provided. Using some slight of hand, Orison unloaded all the hearts he had collected along the way.


    The old wolf was going to ask where the delivery was that required all this preparation before the faint aroma of blood reached his nose. With mild curiosity, the pack leader of this branch stalked over to the barrel and took a peek. After seeing the generous bushel of mostly gold elf hearts in a decently fresh state, the man smiled a grin that managed to look menacing and predatory even when jovial.


    "Who do we have to thank for this elixir delivery?" the old wolf said as he slapped the lid on, cinching the metal band with his bare hands.


    Orison said, "You''re looking at him, Alpha. I would have saved them for Rune and his right hand but they''re neck deep in fresh kill right now marking out a territory to start expanding his own pack into... Oh, I''m Baron Cantrip of Everspring Valley and it''s territory."


    The old wolf sat back down in his chair and said, "I doubt a Centerland patrician from the emerging new line of nobility would go through the trouble of bringing us this without desiring something. Speak your mind and save the tongue twisting for your peers."


    Orison nodded. " I honestly don''t want anything other than what the older generation would normally do, take the time to remind a newer one of the code if it looks like they''ve forgotten. Rune brokered an alliance with my clan, not me. So if I disappear as long as my clan honors that alliance he needs to uphold it for two more generations. This delivery is just a sign of good faith that our clan knows how to appreciate our allies, nothing more."


    "Passing on a message is no hardship but your alliance with him has nothing to do with us. We are a different branch and our lineage is two removed from his," the old wolf said.


    Orison frowned, "So you''re not his paternal grandfather then?"


    The old wolf laughed, "Family and pack are different concepts. Don''t try to confuse what''s what here."


    Orison sighed, "And here you just told me to not tongue twist things. I claim you as part of my allies, not the pack here. It''s a damn shame when a grandfather claims to have nothing to do with his only son''s eldest."


    The old wolf growled, "Claiming me as an ally does involve this pack because I''m alpha here. Of course I care about my blood but that''s a personal affair and what you ask is a pack affair."


    The young mage said, "I''m asking you to reign in your grandson if he gets greedy at bottom line. Just be plain about it and say whether you will or not. An honorable wolf is a good friend but a white eyed wolf needs put down. I don''t think I can get any clearer about speaking my mind."


    The joviality disappeared from the old wolf''s smile. "Maybe a little too clear. Are you threatening the safety of my pack or grandson?"


    Orison said blandly, "People who bear threats don''t come with an armful of goodies to make potential enemies stronger or give them what''s necessary to make more. Are you saying that the grandfather of my ally is a stranger? If so, just tell me to f*** off. I and the future goodwill of my clan will not bother to darken your doorstep again. I have little time to waste on meaningless pursuits."


    Joviality returning a few notches brighter, the old wolf said, "If you were here to make friends, you should have said that instead. I don''t need a boy like you to tell me what I should do about my grandson but if his ally wants to make nice with me and mine, I''ll not turn them away for no reason."


    Orison thought to himself, "It might not be exactly the same but it''s Clan Fvaris all over again, gobble up benefits without a single sincere f***ing offer to reciprocate a damn thing."


    To the old wolf, he said, "From what scant little I know about werewolves there is pack, family, allies and prey. Aside from that, it''s told that the old wolves will keep their promises. I''m not here to make nice. I just want a small promise and maybe extend the possibility of becoming allies as well.


    "Whether my clan will become family or have pack within it is up to my heir and the individuals of my clan who might hold the desire. My clan won''t discriminate against it''s members who may seek such a thing but I''m personally not interested. Will you or will you not twist a young pup''s ear if he strays off the path?"


    The old wolf lapsed into silence, picking up his mug and swirling it around a few times while he looked in it. "Give us a road, young pup, and I''ll stop twisting your ear. If you''ll do that, I''ll be a good old granddad and say a few words. If I like what I see, then I''ll return in the near future as an Alpha officially and put an offer of alliance down on vellum with ink or bark with blood if you like. I''m grievously sick of the eastern rift squeezing blood from our stones every damn spring season."


    Orison smiled benignly, "Then get your sh*t together, ''granddad''. You can supervise me. Since we''ll be starting right next to Forgotten territory you might want to bring a few extra shield arms."


    The old wolf nearly spit his ale through his nose. "Right now? Do you have the manpower and supplies ready?"


    Orison said, "Follow me to the start of the trail and you''ll see what I''m capable of. It wouldn''t be too late to twist my head head off, much less my ear, if you think I''m wasting your time once we get there. I''ll have my people ready in a bell. Outside whatever you''ll need for protection I guess about three weeks of provisions should do it." To himself, he thought, "If it takes more time than that, Mom''s going to have to finish it from her end but I should be able to get us close enough to count."


    The alpha said, "We cover your a** while you make our road, what''s the toll, tax or whatever word your going to use as an excuse to leech off of the people who actually work for a living?"


    The young mage said, "Allies pay nothing. Proof of identity will be needed but Mom''s already working with the mage guild on that. That doesn''t mean if a trader has one of your men on security that they don''t have to pay taxes. For everyone else, it works like this... The sheet I gave you is has no exceptions aside from emergency rescue and unattended minors which will be held in care until a family member can retrieve them.


    "One copper per commoner on foot, three for one on horse. It''s a silver for a two horse or smaller wagon plus one copper per person, two silver for a four horse, copper per person additional fee always applies. Nobility crossing to another kingdom pay a minimum of one gold plus one silver per person unless carrying an order I can''t refuse. The return is free. For all other active duty and government, it''s one silver out and free in. Northland and Centerland will be responsible for goods checks unless the trader is leaving the through way into my town or the rural areas on the other side. I assume Northland and Centerland soldiers will end up being stationed at the entrance to their passes. Both of them will likely try to set up their own tolls with inspection, because greed, but there are already plans underway to have hidden egress for allies.


    The old wolf grumbled, "Pray you''re not offering what you can''t deliver. That''s a lot of trade lines I''ll be missing out on if I can''t push some contracts through your place come late spring. This is our golden season."


    Orison gave a genuine smile and said, "Then every second is precious. I''ll meet you on the southern road by the smithy at a quarter past ninth bell. Bring a two horse wagon and leave enough room all your people, including yourself, and three more."


    The alpha mulled it over and said, "So, four of us. And where we''re going it''ll better be all pack. Whole bands have been known to disappear over there... Where are you going to get horses that won''t balk to carrying a pack of us? Never mind. If you can''t deliver on something that small at least you''ll save me time by telling you to f*** off early rather than later."


    Back on a timetable, Orison rushed back to Venito''s house to pick up Rithus and Gan who were up and helping a familiar blond woman clean the house while walking on shaky legs. As Orison walked past he slapped a healing on her buttocks, literally. Before she could protest, Orison informed her it was kindness and a small payback for the injury she gave him. She was confused for a moment before she realized she could move without soreness and fuzzy memories filled in his injury reference for her as she blushed violently.


    "Alright, you two. We''re on short time. I''m pitching in but we need to take off in a quarter hour," Orison said to Gan and Rithus.


    Lyra coolly watched the cleanup from her customary spot on the railing outside her room. Seeing the frosty ambivalence, Orison realized she was making a stance on what had happened between them and it wasn''t open for discussion.


    The young mage sighed internally and said, "Is my slutty brother home?"


    "He reasoned today was as good as any to move back to the lake house. He only planned for us to winter here out of convenience," Lyra said crisply before retreating back to her room.


    With Lyra not even making herself available to answer questions, the three plus poor server girl who had work that evening at the inn made record progress on restoring the house to order. The pretty blond gave Gan and Rithus a hug out of gratitude, a surprise kiss and a** grab for Orison, before making her own way. With a last look towards Lyra''s bedroom Orison left with his companions as well.


    While the young mage restocked and set up a delivery of goods with a mercenary escort deposit added, Rithus asked Gan, "Do you think the nice girl who smelled like stew will get some good sleep before she has to go to work?"


    Gan laughed and said, "She just buttered us up so she wouldn''t have to clean by herself. I doubt she''s usually that nice."


    Rithus leaned in and whispered, "At least all of the people Orison''s brother worked with were nice. I know what they do. I just mean that they were, uh, really friendly. Will you disagree with that? One was so friendly WITH you I thought they WERE you until I looked at them."


    Gan took the unintentionally delivered embarrassment in stride while he whispered back, "The guy that was hanging off of you earlier in the night or the girl later, did either of them smell like you this morning?"


    Rithus tilted his head to the side and thought before answering without a shred of embarrassment or hesitation, "The man smelled a little stronger of himself later. When he got drunk and started crying I just held him like Morrel would hold me when I cried. It made my leg scales itch a little and kind of tickled my belly skin, the way he was rubbing on me. I''ve never been complimented on feeling smooth and cool before... Maybe the hearth fire made the house a little too hot for him.


    "The girl''s mouth probably smelled like me a little. She wanted to know if I had two parts at the end of my pen*s like she had heard before. I was going to answer her but she said she wanted to find out for herself. I didn''t want to tell her she couldn''t because she asked very politely many times."


    They walked in quiet for awhile before curiosity got the best of Gan and he asked if Marshlanders actually had forked willies.


    Frowning as if recalling a bad memory, Rithus said, "Deep marsh kin do. They also have less resistance to the cold, don''t have molars and like to eat meat raw. I don''t know if it''s all of them but the few that I''ve met were a little meaner too."


    Keying in on the last bit, Orison said, "I think a deep marsh male is trying to get close to your daughter. Should we be worried?"


    A little distressed, Rithus said, "Is her baby a boy or a girl?"


    Picking up on the anxiety Orison said nervously, "It''s a girl."


    Rithus visibly relaxed and smiled a little goofy while he daydreamed for a second.


    Snapping out of it, Rithus said, "It''s fine then. It''s not something I know for sure but I''ve heard that deep marsh men will kill male children of a dead rival or give them to the shadows sometimes if the children are young enough to not remember. The deep marsh woman who told me this also said that men from the same family will sometimes make a sport of killing a woman''s mate if they both took a liking to her so they won''t fight between themselves. It sounds too bloodthirsty to be true but even if she was just trying to scare me..."


    Orison thought to himself, "My gawd! No wonder that guy said being too pretty is just as bad as being ugly. That troublemaker''s family probably took one look at Lithis and that was all she wrote. No need to tell Rithis that the woman who told him that wasn''t lying or exaggerating. I thought Takris and his ''buddy'' were just all assassin-y with that killing her husband game thing. Maybe his order ''buddy'' was actually another family member. If we ever do make it back to this world, I''m going to start paying more attention to what what reptilian facial features are more appealing to other Marshlanders. Seems like it could actually be useful to know."


    To keep from making things awkward for Rithus, while the Marshlander was getting some stall food to take with them on the road, Orison asked Gan, "How could he not get that the guy was humping him? I figure that kind of thing would be pretty obvious."


    Gan looked woodenly at Orison, "Everyone was at least a little drunk, even Rithus. Everyone was also in varying states of undress, even Rithus. Your brother''s work friends don''t have a lot of inhibitions but they were fairly respectful so I didn''t worry much about keeping an eye out. He might be catching on but Rithus is pretty dense about a lot of things. Besides, I''m pretty sure scales aren''t as sensitive as skin. Judging by the way Rithus said it, he was trying to take advantage without our Marshlander friend knowing and that makes it a lot creepier."


    With black lines running down his face, Orison thought, "Never knew assassins came in so many shapes and colors. I''m glad I wasn''t the only one who wrongly thought a Marshlander would be safest of us all from molestation. Probably better he doesn''t know. This might be one of those times that ignorance really would be bliss."


    Done with personal business, the three companions were milling around the blacksmith''s area. Seeing that the mercenary group hadn''t finished their preparations, Orison took out the ring while eating a late breakfast. It was definitely a boundary item but it was ordinary in every other way.


    Orison handed it to Gan and had the scout examine it. "It feels special, even looks, I don''t know, more vivid than everything around it but it''s just a ring, Little Boss."


    The young mage whispered, "It''s a boundary item. They''re supposed to resist change when we ''move on'' to other places. Some are special but this one isn''t I guess. Rithus, I want you to take a closer look at it to so you can recognize them when you see them in the future."


    Rithus fiddled with the ring and handed it back to Orison.


    After giving it a little thought, Orison handed it back to Gan and said, "Maybe you should hold on to it. There may be times that having a prop like that might be able to get you out of unpleasant situations."


    Gan said, "How could a wedding ring ge- Yeah, I can see that. Now that you mention it, I wish I had thought of it before."

 61 OEW

    A little later, the alpha walked over and said, "Wagon''s been here for half a bell and we''re ready to go. Where''s the ho-"


    Orison summoned the first horse and while the old wolf stared dumbfounded, the young mage summoned another. "Meet Enbarr one and two. We''ll have to get them back into the tack a few times a day but they don''t need food or water and if they break you just make another. No muss no fuss."


    Since the werewolf seemed taken with them, he let the man take first driver duty. Ever since the Enbarr upgrade, as long as Orison didn''t get too far away he could not only control them as if he was in contact but other people could interact with them as if they were relatively smart horses as long as Orison allowed it. Since they were sensitive enough to respond to the command words from a distance, Orison didn''t freely share those anymore. Two people trying to interact with them at the same time could cause an accident.


    Orison''s travel plan to get to the trail was unconventional. Roads that traveled through the westernmost part of Whiteriver''s territory, aside from one that nearly shot like an arrow straight west, were little better than trails most of the time. To keep from wasting days traversing them in an increasingly complex way to reach their goal, Orison just took them off road. With Gan''s help, the group could mitigate running into obstacles that weren''t impassable and major roadblocks that caused the western trails to become such a convoluted mess could usually be solved with a clever combination of golem and manpower. The young mage didn''t miss the mercenary leader memorizing landmarks and occasionally setting hidden directional signs. It was likely that there would be a better road through these parts in the future due to this journey.


    On a smooth stretch of road they actually managed to find aligned with their trip, the old alpha named Freki said, "This reminds me of younger days, blazing trails with the previous lord of Whiteriver. How greatly one generation can change to the next, it''s a sad and confusing thing."


    Orison replied, "After great trials, people crave comfort and stability. The generation that comes after benefits from the labor of the one that came before and if they haven''t tasted hardship themselves, take what they have for granted. What''s sad and confusing is that it takes the horror of death, deprivation and hardship to awaken most people''s spirit. Every generation has their innovators but golden ages only come after great upheaval. After ignorance, the greatest enemy is complacency."


    Freki looked at Orison strangely. "Who''s the old man here? What I was getting at is how different the successor can be to the one that came before. I see where you''re coming from but the whys of it aren''t that important to those of us that live on the fringe. Comfort and stability are things to never truly be ours. Survival, that''s the goal for us all. But for me and my kind, sometimes it''s the only goal we can really focus on.


    "Say this all goes well. Me and maybe even a few other old wolves throw some of our eggs into your basket. We never know for how long the hand holding that basket''s going to be steady."


    Orison said, "Lucky for all of you, it''s Droya, my mother, who''ll be holding the basket. You couldn''t ask for a steadier hand. She''s also not shy about talking your ear off about anything you need to know. If I have anything to complain about, she''s too fair. People don''t become prosperous in a world like this being fair but if she can have a few staunch allies at her side, she''ll be able to at least stay the course. If stable''s all you need she''ll give it."


    Freki narrowed his eyes. "No one is ever content to stay the course. Once people get used to what they have, they want more. I''ll sooner believe that a b*tch can squirt wine from her t*ts than believe a ruler of any kind can stay fair the whole way. Sure, they can BE fair but once the pressure''s off, once they feel safe and secure, folks start looking around for more to grab."


    Orison released a small amount of spirit, enough for the old wolf''s hackles to start raising. "What we do, we do for our loved ones. A piece of dirt itself holds next to no appeal to us. Our eyes are set beyond the boundary of this world. We can talk philosophy and ''what ifs'' but don''t judge what you haven''t yet experienced. And I promise you, a group like ours, you have not yet experienced."


    The old wolf''s eyes turned yellow and a low growl could be heard in his voice. "Don''t be so quick to judge, yourself. There isn''t much I haven''t ''experienced'' and the world can only take away what the man knows. The wolf remembers."


    Orison replied, "Then does the wolf remember what dangers used to roam where we ride past without a care? There doesn''t seem to be much of a limit on what it is capable of erasing. What my family earns through wisdom or foolishness, I can accept. But if a force raises against them, robs them of the right to choose their path, then that force better hope I do not find myself here again because I will erase them with a vengeance even this world can''t match."


    As if the grim seriousness of a moment before was only a hallucination, Orison''s spiritual pressure disappeared and he said with a saintly smile, "I have it on good authority that I have a pretty decent chance of returning too. Of course, allies should be happy to see me return. I''ll bring souvenirs."


    Freki was lost in contemplation for a time but before they ran out of road and the way required their attention once more, the old wolf said, "So that''s what this is about. I''d ask what you did to p*ss off the world but if you could answer, it wouldn''t be that serious."


    Orison said, "I saved someone that scared it. Haha, I better not say anything else on that. I think I just lost a couple of days. Luckily, we made this trip a red-eye. I barely have enough time to build this damn road as it is."


    Nearly three days in and they had finally reached their destination, the beginning of the trail. It had been a wet, chilly day and the evening was only getting cooler. Orison estimated that by midnight, the temperature would drop enough to begin freezing. By consensus, with no consideration for personal space or individual comfort, everyone huddled together in the larger pavilion tent that Freki had brought. Due to circumstance, it wasn''t a good idea to light a fire and even the most hardy of them was fatigued from the non-stop push to get here.


    Orison got a glimpse into what it meant to be pack and the weight of what it meant to lead one that evening and night. If someone was having difficulty with something it would only be a second before it was a task for two. If someone needed something, it was a mere moment before someone who had it, offered. It was just a collection of little things but they all added up to a unified whole that no amount of military discipline could equal and only the closest of friends could understand.


    This was more than an instinct or the spirit of pack alone. The old man who led them took those things and crafted it into unquestioning loyalty and trust in each other, a work of years that could be irreparably damaged or undone with one mistake. It was easy to make those kind of mistakes when tired and testing self control by eating a heart to stay alert and battle ready so that the rest of the pack could sleep. Yet, that''s what the old man did and likely had done many times before.


    ***


    Orison woke to being jostled roughly out of the way. Three pack members were mid transformation even as they were ripping their way out of the pavilion tent. Sounds of spoken old Northerner words were flying back and forth. Orison may have known enough to translate some runes but not enough to converse smoothly and the conversation that was happening at the moment was moving too fast for him to follow.


    Mask on, the young mage made his way out of the significantly larger opening of the tent to see a showdown between the Whiteriver werewolf pack and a dozen feather caped Forgotten that had three bull sized white wolves with them. He might not have been able to follow the whole conversation but Orison picked out a few choice bits that dealt with an attack and something about middle mountains. At first, Orison thought that they were referring to a couple of Forgotten that fell trying to venture towards Everspring Valley but it became apparent that the Forgotten here were riled up by an attack that came from there to their own land.


    Orison tried his best to ask what the attackers looked like but he was ignored. Lettting his eyes blaze in the cold, frosty darkness, Orison asked again more authoritatively. He was answered by an arrow bouncing off his mask and lightly sticking into his shoulder. It looked like the fight was going to break out then but Orison delayed and kept the conversation rolling by throwing out his arm dramatically, dislodging the arrow, then laughing and insulting the weak arm of the archer as Gan placed himself between the Forgotten and his ''Little Boss''.


    From the stunted amount of words he could understand, Orison gathered that the leader of the group likened him to to wet female genitals and promised the young mage an ear if Orison would face the one named Skoll in a single trade of blows.


    Before agreeing, Orison expressed as best he could, "Man eggs crack with small strike. Woman parts take beating for all passing of moon in sky, still work in sun. Woman parts strong. Man eggs weak."


    The young mage turned to Freki and said, "That was really bad, wasn''t it? Did I at least get my point across?"


    Still very much wary and alert for the first attack, the alpha said, " Some of them are trying not to laugh loud enough for the leader to hear but the leader isn''t laughing at all. I''d say yes but it doesn''t change anything."


    With Freki''s assistance, the next part was easier for both Orison and the leader on the verge of trying to kill them all, to understand.


    The leader said, "No use trying to make more time to breathe but since I asked you to face Skoll, I''ll accept your challenge to fight with words first... Yes, it is true what you say but one part. She is not stronger, she is tougher. Taking a beating and still working is for the defeated, even if the defeat is a joyful one."


    Orison said, "Say that when it is not joyful. She takes your beating til you are weak and slits your throat while you dream happily."


    The man returned, "A coward to kill the sleeping."


    Orison shook his head and said, "Cunning to kill the sleeping and you''ve done it many times. Shameful to do then call another coward for the same thing. In the end a dead enemy is a dead enemy. Cook, healer, giver of joy and comfort, also keeper of secrets. They are not a sword but they are strong because they make you strong for having them, just like a sword. That is a woman to a man that knows the treasure he has. A broken woman, a sad woman and an angry woman can be a secret sword pointed at the man who despises his treasure."


    Turning to Freki, Orison whispered, "I don''t know what in the Abyss I''m doing here. Did I just turn a lighthearted word play into a debate?"


    "He isn''t trying to kill us yet so you''re doing something right," Freki said.


    After the leader had sifted through the broken Old Northland, he said, "Are you this woman? I don''t kill you and you become like a sword to me? This, I don''t want but I could take you. Some chiefs have pity for the woman hearted and value what they can provide. It is a shameful life you ask for but if you''re life is that important to you-"


    Red faced, Orison said, "I am not the woman that I speak of! Her name is wife. Her name is mother. Her name is sister and daughter. Because she is behind you, you are stronger. The circle you make with your arms is their safety and their happiness. I know this and you know this. In this we are the same."


    The leader frowned. "People from the middle of the mountains broke my circle . They made three wives widows and two daughters orphans. You go to the people who broke my circle and you want to say we are the same? Who is in your circle, hm? Whose circle are you in?"


    Orison took a fortifying breath and said, "The middle of the mountains is my circle and if one from my circle broke yours without...Freki, how would I say ''just cause''? Never mind, I don''t even think I can say that... without first blood or those from yours breaking my circle first, then I will give them to you, blood for blood. But I need to know the faces of the ones who bring...wrong to you."


    The leader smirked. "Then face Skoll. If you still stand, then you have the strength to make us bleed. Only then will it be of more value to talk instead of kill."


    Orison sighed and thought, "Well, at least I get an honor dual. That''s better than nothing."


    The young mage nodded. "Then let me see the face of the one I must bleed to bring... bring your ear!"


    The leader laugh reminded Orison of Rozcherek, his Abyss Lord frenemy. The man growled some short phrase in Old Northlander that even had Freki puzzled. The nearest ''dire wolf'' slowly slunk forward as it''s hackles raised. It met the Forgotten leader''s eyes and then the leader looked at Orison. Skoll, the dire wolf, swung his massive head towards the young mage and bared it''s fangs.


    "What a d*ck move... Gan, it''s do or die man. This was my choice. If I go down, try to get Rithus back to Everspring."


    Reluctantly, Gan moved out of the way and backed up to the Marshlander. With Orison''s companion out of the way, the leader growled out another sharp phrase and the white furred beast stalked towards the young mage with slow grace that deceived the eye as the gap between them dwindled quickly.


    Adrenaline kicked in and Orison''s mind started whirring. Golems were out of the question. They took too long and he thought they''d see it as breaking their bullsh*t honor and take it as a sign to attack in mass. Big, flashy magic would be worse. It would do a lot of damage but arrows would be peppering and who knows how many would fall but one thing was certain, most of the arrows would be aimed at him. The mask was only so good. He''d still be a dead porcupine if even just three were focused on him. That only left him with one decent option that would leave the young mage low on reserve and still facing them all.


    Orison muttered, "Please let this work. I know we''re in for a fight to the death if I take it too far but I gotta make this good."


    In a move that Orison had only practiced four times, leaving him with broken bones and damaged organs twice, the young mage drew and empowered a model for the kinetic shield inside his space and tossed it to his sub mind to hold in ready. Less than ten feet away, the giant wolf launch itself at Orison like a cannonball with teeth the size of long daggers. Pulling to the very limit of what he could endure through his channels, Orison unleashed an intentionally overcharged and unstable telekinetic model that immediately burst out like a sonic boom. His sub-mind released the shield a tenth of a second too late.


    The wolf''s chin shot up with brutal force, small chips of enamel flying, due to the sudden appearance of the magic shield. The sonic boom of force didn''t knock the wolf back, the creature was just too big. But it did send a rippling shockwave through the dire wolf that disrupted every system of it''s body. It was only for a second but the beast''s heart stopped, mind shut off like a switch was flipped and minor blood vessels ruptured from it''s throat to midway through the barrel of it''s body. The dire wolf collapsed into a heap, right where it stood.


    Orison wasn''t okay. The shield may have rebound and amplified the force into penetrating vibrations on the wolf but a third of that did the same to the young mage. To save his own life, Orison pulled as much of his inner potential out to the limit allowed to save his mind, heart and delicate parts from rupture but that left the rest of his organs and tissue to be ravaged. In the flare of spiritual force focused through his eyes they were saved from damage but everything was a blur. He could see nothing but spirit.


    While the numbness of shock protected him from pain, Orison managed to hoarsely call out in broken Old Northlander, "I have done. I brought pain by your hand called. I now want to give life help... make whole. Damn it, I want to heal your wolf!. Can we not pretend that futh-...ark... Come on world, it''s just a damn name. What does it hurt!?... Can we just speak common tongue? I''m certain you''re tired of hearing me slowly butcher your whole language!"


    Without command, the other two dire wolves slowly started slinking towards Orison, ears laid back and teeth bared in utter silence.

 62 OEW

    Unexpectedly, the leader looked at Orison and said in Old Northlander, "I will not speak the unclean tongue but you may. Hearing a filthy, slant ear blooded Highlander speak in our words sickens me."


    Pushing the anger down Orison said, "If I heal your wolf, will you withhold your attack and let me hear about who crossed your border?"


    The leader said, "I will stay my hand while you heal my wolf kin. When you are done you''ll have my ear. Nothing more do I promise."


    Orison thought to himself, "If I didn''t need time to heal myself and an excuse to do it in front of you, I wouldn''t p*ss on you to put out a fire."


    The young mage pulled out two flasks and said, "One is for stamina and one is for healing. Your kin will need both. I will take half in front of you so that you''ll know they''re safe. Is this acceptable?"


    Orison was already drinking while the leader said, "Do what you need and be quick. The night grows thin."


    As Orison turned to the beast, it''s two companions protectively flanking and ready to harm at his approach, the young mage reminded the leader that healing isn''t possible for him to administer if he''s being torn apart while trying to do it. Reluctantly, the Forgotten leader issued a sharp order that drew unwilling but obedient whines from the two wolves. They laid down but watched Orison with menace in their eyes.


    With a little slight of hand, the young mage switched out the flask of ''Best He'' for a watered down version that had a flashy magical healing kick and little else. The flask of triple threat magic restoration was replaces by a dregs vigor potion. After pouring them into two of the three bowls he carried for travel, he used a stick on the ground to push them towards the injured wolf. Stepping back, he let the wolf decide what it wanted to do as he focused on getting a decent reserve back and seal up the cracks in his mangled innards.


    The shock was wearing off and Orison felt like he might have passed out and died shortly after if it had taken much more time to sneak in his healing. The mask was the only saving grace from his enemy realizing that the time bought to heal his wolf was letting Orison return to a decent fighting state. A sinking feeling in Orison''s gut told him that this man wasn''t interested in getting the right person, the Forgotten leader just wanted an excuse to step out of his border to kill.


    Knowing that bloodshed was just around the corner, Orison wondered why the Forgotten leader was being so patient. Sure, having another dire wolf in the fight would be a good thing for the leader but something felt off. Then it dawned on the young mage. If they fought as it was, there would be heavy casualties. Orison had no doubt that the man thought he would win but who would want to lose their men in a fight if there was a better option.


    Looking back at Gan, the young mage''s fear was confirmed. The scout wasn''t looking at the enemies in front of them, he was looking nervously behind them, into the inky darkness of the shadowed ridge trail. Things were looking like they were about to go from bleak to hopeless. Orison had brought these men here for a glimpse of a brighter day and instead showed them a gate to the Abyss. Magic, conduit, items from his space, Orison had nothing in his arsenal that was going to be able to ensure a purely positive outcome. Survival itself was in question, at least the way they were at that moment.


    Orison turned to Freki and said under his breath, "If I did everything I could to allow you and your men to walk away from this, would you consider it a fair gesture in exchange for the road? You and your men, I admire the spirit of your pack and want you as ally to my clan."


    Freki laughed darkly, "We''re here because of you. Don''t you think we already expect you to do everything you can to allow us to walk away from this?"


    Orison said, "There is a difference between everything as I am and everything I ''could''. The first is bloody and dangerous with little chance of a hopeful outcome. The second is still bloody and dangerous but my time here will be done. Do you understand what I''m saying?"


    Before the alpha could respond, the Forgotten leader looked at them with narrowed eyes as a new arrival stepped out of the shadows to whisper something to the aboriginal Northlander.


    The leader laughed and said, "I owe you my ear, Highlander."


    In a swift motion, the man hacked off his left ear and threw it at Orison. "This will not be as fun as chasing down a herd of Highland sheep nearly four years ago but it will spark fire in the blood just the same."


    He and his men chuckled and looked as if they were reliving a fond memory. One even went so far as to brag about the woman he raped before gutting her. The leader brought them back to focus with the order to make new stories on this day as he smiled wickedly, blood trickling down the left side of his head where an ear used to be.


    Something deep within Orison''s soul flared at the leader''s comment. Releasing his suppressed potential to ensure their retreat at the cost of his remaining time was no longer enough. Having the pack as allies no longer mattered. The safety of his companions became a dim but present sentiment. This man and at least two of his followers were with the people who had turned Orison into an orphan and peaceful or safe solutions were not going to give the young mage what he suddenly wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment.


    Within a state of furious instinct, as the first volley of arrows flew from front and behind rained down on the vastly outnumbered group, Orison summoned the Danann Key to him. There was nothing to be unlocked here but himself and he did. Two thirds of the crystal ring evaporated in molten sparks. One of the three large eternium crystal fingers whined and cracked. Orison wrested the kinetic shield into a barrier whose empowering model was drawn with a faint and sparse presence of crystal dust in the air as eldritch whispers flitted past his subconscious.


    Hidden potential boiled to the surface and though Orison could not see it, all under the protection of his barrier witnessed the sandy blond of the young mage''s hair fade to a luminescent mythril, the edges of his ears drew to a finer point. Under the metamorphosis empowered by the Danann Key, Orison revealed to those present what the fate of the lost tribe of half elves truly was.


    Through the singing whispers and sparks of ghostly blue nestling into the cells of his body, infiltrating and claiming his inner space, the young mage realized that the blood of his ancestors was not of this world. They were not the harmonious and nature loving creatures of fantasy but the alien minded and capricious creatures of old lore. What the Danann Key had unlocked within him was not half of what they are but a small fraction. With the dim and nearly illusionary vessel he possessed in comparison to that legacy, unlocking any more of the mysteries inside him would not only be suicidal but impossible. He would need a great deal more ''fertilizer'' to sacrifice to the key than he currently had.


    Internally he had mocked the old obsidian elf architect for the man''s assessment of being able to possibly touch the feet of of the ancient elves'' achievement if Orison gave his all. With what he felt now, if anything, that was an understatement. The elves of this world were only pale, world shaped echoes of that race''s glory and the Highlanders may be their true b*****d legacy here but the low dimensional vessels of that race''s wistful dalliances could only carry a fragile seed of their potential. It was a seed that the greedy world had let flourish for a small time before reaping and devouring it.


    Under the heady influence of that alien race''s equally damned and divine bloodline, Orison''s rage and hatred transformed into an ethereal song of cosmic destruction in his veins. Dire wolves and warriors were swarming around the blue dome, eating away its sprinkle of eternium invested power as two semi-sentient earth elementals with glowing azure eyes and a flicker of blue flame in their chests stormed out of the barrier. The transformed golems sprang forth to bring calamity upon those who would dare to raise their sharp toys at their creator.


    The sub-mind coolly reflected that the legends of the ancient elves'' ambivalence was likely a misunderstanding of the discipline they exercised to keep their strong emotional impulses from self destructive behavior. It calmly watched as the sacrament of the world sizzled like butter in a hot pan on the spiritual spectrum. For a fraction of a second, it split it''s attention from maintaining the model of the overcharged golem under it''s control to send a spike of logic driven imperative through the red cloud of rage to remember the bowl of fat with traces of sacrament within it. Orison called the bowl of regenerative fat out of his space and liberally smeared it on his face and neck before tossing it at Rithus.


    "Anoint yourselves, break the shackles of this world, rend their flesh and souls with me!" the young mage said, lost to the insanity of blood-lust as he dashed out of the barrier to physically intercept a bolt of crimson streaked black energy cast by an enemy shaman.


    Like a fanatic in the throws of religious ecstasy, Rithus scraped the bowl and started smearing as the Marshlander rushed out of the circle with supernatural speed, a dark fog beginning to roil out from his pours. With anxiety and a growing fear for the safety of his ''Little Boss'', Gan took a modest dollop and smeared it on his head before rubbing the rest around his hands. With the pitiful amount remaining, the youngest of the pack, caught up in the excitement, came over and sniffed at the bowl before eating the little that was left. In the nick of time, Freki pointed the agitated wolf the opposite direction before he let go and called the rest of the pack to join him.


    On one side or the empty standing barrier, archers and warriors coming back from a raid elsewhere were desperately attempting to strafe around fang and claw. On the other, raging fire, darting shadow and living stone were carpeting the surprised and slightly panicking Forgotten. Seeing the situation completely spiral out of control, the leader shouted for a cease of hostility and a talk of peace but Orison was beyond caring. Of all the people here, the leader, the braggart rapist and and his chuckling companion were going to die or Orison was going to die trying to kill them.


    On the fourth casting of fireball, three melee fighters with ax and shield closed in on him, covered in a glassy shimmer of magical energy. Orison jumped up, abandoning the casting to pop an unstable and sloppy levitation he had far from gotten the hang of but gave him the lift he needed none the less. Switching gears, he cast a violet fireball down instead, laughing as their skin cooked in the short burst of radiation. An arrow took the young mage under his left shoulder blade, piercing beyond the protection of his mask. The pain and sudden limitation of movement caused him to lose concentration and he fell back down, breaking the arrow shaft and driving the head into the bottom of his lung.


    The Danann Key blazed to life, driving the arrowhead out and half repairing the wound, leaving potion and enchanted equipment to do the rest. Distracted by trying to follow where the willful orb was disappearing to, Orison failed to note that one of the severely ''sun-burnt'' men was cognitive enough to swing their ax. Reflexively, Orison raised his left arm to block it, losing his left hand from the mid forearm down. The bloom of shock sobered up Orison''s fevered rage but made him lose sight of the key''s path.


    Before the burnt man could make a second swing, a silver longsword took him through the neck. Gan appeared in front of the young mage as a flash of silvery green light manifested a mountain lion that dove to maul another of the burnt assailants. With the momentary full cover, Orison grabbed his severed hand, cast a presto to clean it and his wound then stuck it in best alignment possible after swiping the grizzly end over the excess glob of fat on his forehead.


    While casting a healing to ensure his hand would stay on, Orison surveyed the field to note that the supercharged golem on his left had killed the wolf but was so badly damaged it was going to fall apart any moment. Rithus was darting through the outer tree line, stalking archers and the pack on the other side of the dome were in various states of injury, save the youngest who only showed signs of a few newly healed wounds. The other golem under Orison''s control wasn''t overly damaged but neither was the remaining dire wolf.


    Seeing two warriors closing in to give the dire wolf some backup, Orison commanded it to hug the wolf once the two warriors were in range and explode the rest of it''s eternium dust fueled existence at them. The other, he sent at the leader and his two men who showed signs of preparing to flee. In a dual explosion that rocked their side of the battlefield, bits of rock shrapnel and a disrupting shockwave shot outward from where the golems once stood.


    The two men in front of the leader, blocked with metal ribbed wood shields that stopped the flying stone chips at the expense of the bones in their arms and less protected legs as the shockwave knocked all three off their feet. At the same time, the golem to Orison''s right shot pieces of itself directly into the wolf it flung itself on like a tripped claymore while peppering the two warriors with organ jarring shotgun blasts of shockwave bolstered shrapnel.


    Weak and dizzy from blood loss, Orison took stock of his body''s condition to find that it was riddled with partially healed injuries and ravaged by a significantly weakened curse that was manifesting itself as some kind of disease, eating at his lifeforce directly. With the will of the world waiting on the other side of the flimsy remaining sacrament, Orison took one of his ''silver bullet'' potion along with the rest of the triple threat magic restoration potion left in his flask. With some minor difficulty, the young mage stood into a mundane flying arrow that ripped through a small chunk of his right shoulder muscle, close to his neck.


    The archer responsible lost his head to Rithus, whose chameleon like skin rippled due to the rush of a kill before the Marshlander blended into his surroundings and moved on. Gan was giving all he had and it was only barely enough to keep the two warriors flanking him from putting him down, small trickles of blood oozing from grazes that breached his leather armor. The Mountain cat that Gan brought out was chasing down the exhausted shaman responsible for the life eating curse that was originally meant to parasitize the barrier and grant the shaman more magic.


    The young mage put up a strong front, letting his spirit blaze from his eyes and shouted, "Forgotten who remain, abandon your leader and his two guards. Return home and send a man of peace to speak with the Bastet named Droya. There is no need for more death. My anger is sated and all that remains is claiming blood for the lives of my family that were killed by him, disrespected as livestock. IF YOU BRING WAR TO MY CLAN AGAIN, MY WRATH WILL BE LEGENDARY AND YOUR PEOPLE WILL BECOME MYTH!"


    The young mage bombarded the two Guards and their leader who was scrambling to stand and run with three fireballs in a row, dropping his reserve to fumes. Orison was little more than a paper tiger after that but his point had been made. The leader was still alive, weakly crawling and screaming from the burns.


    Orison straddled the leader, using the weight of his own body to pin the Forgotten chief face down, using vicious retribution to cover shaky legs that were barely capable of walking. For show, Orison dug into the man''s back with bare hands, using the wounds of crisp skin as entrance, until he could finally reach in and pull the Forgotten leader''s heart out. With one last beating squirt, the young mage severed the arteries and finished yanking it free.


    With what little strength his enchantments and potion dregs restored, Orison walked the heart to Freki. Wishing he could drink another stamina and healing potion but knowing that it would only make him sick and possibly cause other types of potentially fatal problems, Orison handed the heart to the alpha. The alpha hesitated for a moment before taking the heart and chewing a bite out of it before handing the rest to his right hand. There were plenty of other dead men to take hearts from but this gesture had meaning. The pack was an ally.


    Orison took out the small few potions that lacked the faint boundary item feeling and handed them all to the alpha as well, explaining what they were. The cure poison and disease potions would be life saving for the more mundane members of the alpha''s mercenary guild and the two healing potions were useful in the moment. One werewolf would be able to get over the hump and survive because of it. Using the last tiny trickle, Orison cleaned an ankle and foot with presto before sticking them together. Getting the remaining small glob of fat that still had a little magic to it from the side of Rithus'' neck, the young mage smeared the wound line.


    With only seconds left before the wrath of the world would descend, a lush emerald ''soap bubble'' of energy surrounded Orison, Rithus and Gan. They could hear the faint sound of Morrel''s voice willing them good fortune on their journey and carrying the hopes and love of a father to his son. A sudden feeling of free fall came over them but Orison didn''t witness or feel anything else. From sheer exhaustion of body, mind, spirit and magic, the young mage had fainted yet again.

 63 Crystal Cage 1 OEW 63

    "Little Boss, you got to wake up. We let you sleep because it looked like it was doing you a lot of good but Rith is saying something bad is coming. I''m starting to feel jittery myself," Gan said as he shook Orison.


    Reluctantly, the young mage stirred himself and sat up. Looking around, the entire place was just a collection of greens, blues and purples in streamers of aurora borealis like light that ranged from bright to dark. He could feel a firm, somewhat giving floor but had no way at all of identifying dimension, size or anything else.


    He looked at Gan and Rithus in confusion. "Where is this? Scratch that... You said there''s a threat coming? What do you know? What have the two of you figured out?"


    Rithus said, "I made a floor with my thoughts but I have to keep thinking about it or it will disappear and we''ll be floating again."


    Orison tried his spirit sight but everything looked exactly the same, just a little washed out. Switching to focus on his weird ''Find Objective'' ability, the young mage saw a myriad of little dots. If he reached out to one, it would respond and move a little closer. The one he was experimenting on felt dangerous so he stopped drawing it to him. While he was thinking about only wanting to see the ones that didn''t have that feeling of threat, many of them winked out.


    While he was experimenting with the dots, he told them what he was seeing and they told them about the things that they had tried. What Rithus and Gan had mostly done, amounted to them playing around with the ''invisible stuff''. There was an insubstantial essence around them that could be shaped but required focus or the created object would return to nothing. While Orison played around with the dots, he had them work on trying to mentally refine something as realistically as possible.


    "We shouldn''t just keep messing around, I think. I can see a red blot on my map. It''s still pretty far away, I guess, but it''s coming straight at us," Gan said nervously.


    Orison said, "There''s no real sense of movement here. It''s mostly just thought. Don''t go in strange directions with that or you might get separated from us. I''ve pulled one of the dots close enough to see. It''s some kind of- Alright! It''s a kind of portal. Let me draw it closer."


    When the portal was only a few feet away, Orison saw lush greenery on the other side but little else. Rithus could see it too but Gan couldn''t. Not only that but Orison had the feeling he could go into it and so did Rithus but Gan''s hand would just go through it when they tried to guide him. It took a little playing around and drawing another dot to figure out that their ''tower keys'' didn''t fit all the ''locks'' for those places.


    After Orison had drawn their attention to the ''portal dots'' they started drawing the ones that all three could sense towards them. It was an interesting observation that of all the mysterious parts of himself, Orison''s busted Find Objective ability was the best method for finding them. He could ''feel'' some by following connections in his space. Spirit sight could ''see'' a couple once he knew they were there. Even the remaining eternium formation, down one of its fingers and little left of the crystal dust ring but a few chips of the shattered finger and a sparse sprinkle of the highest potency dust, would ring out in a harmonizing vibration that could draw a few.


    It was quite different for his companions. Rithus'' ''shadow in his bones'' drew him to the ones he could interact with as they drew to him. There was nothing else that the Marshlander knew of within him that could affect them. Gan also only had his map but it was as clear to the scout as it was to Orison using ''Find Objective. Between the two, they just watched their ''displays'' and as Rithus resonated with one, as long as they could both see it, they drew it forward.


    By the time they had around a dozen, they stopped pulling more. The red blot that Gan had saw on his map had gotten close enough that they could vaguely see a slightly darker smudge in the distance. Orison''s own instincts start ringing alarm bells by that point. So, with speedy but detailed observations, they made a choice. It was a peaceful and essence rich feeling place that had no apparent signs of danger or discord. Not that they could see much beyond the portal view.


    Side by side they walked closer to the portal and right before they would go through, Orison suddenly felt a strong resistance to passing build at his chest. He had forgotten about the comatose Duran inside his space. Orison quickly related the news before his companions finished walking through and he got stuck in this place alone. He started to cycle through the choices even as the three sensed for others without Orison limiting what he could see. By the time he had narrowed it down to two, Gan had been pulling on a match close enough for them to see it.


    The dangerous unidentifiable object had grown close enough for Rithus and Orison to see the details that Gan had been able to see for awhile. It looked like a twining ball of tornadoes with jagged pieces of triangular metallic objects and random debris occasionally grinding against each other. They had no doubts that greeting it was a bad idea.


    The two choices before them were, by Orison''s accounting, a 1940''s style world with a slightly dark feeling undertone and a bright, mystical place that felt rich in multiple essences. The third nearby showed a metropolitan city that seemed rather modern but it felt greater in power of existence than them by a good margin. It felt dangerous because feeling like a weak presence in comparison, instinctively seemed to indicate difficulty in survival and high chance of failure to transcend.


    With common sense elimination, the choice was clear not only to Orison but also the others. Unanimously and without reservation, they stepped through the portal which would take them to the bright world that was much more dense in essence. It would have been their first choice before the Duran hiccup but it''s strength of existence compared to themselves was a good deal higher than their second best choice which made them feel that the survival curve might end up being a bit more challenging than they were comfortable with. Right or wrong, it was time to see where stumbling around in the dark with a little guidance from Lily had brought them.


    ***


    Once Orison had walked through, his sense of sight immediately vanished. He didn''t appear where the image of the portal showed. Instead, he floated in a darkness with the feeling of ''ending'' all around him. Through that, there was a sense of possibility.


    Within the darkness, Orison heard Lily''s voice, "If you''re ''hearing'' this, it means you did it. You started your climb. Experiences during step baptism vary almost as widely as the major archetypes of keys but no matter what kind it is, the process will rebirth you. It will strengthen your existence a little each time. The biggest help comes from accumulations of ''structural poison'' and other harmful things being released from you unless the entity instilling them is seventh tier or above. Don''t confuse tiers with steps.


    "Steps are a collection of experiences that indicate the expected understanding of a person as they ''climb the tower'', greatly flawed but decently useful as a general outline. The tiers are a broader concept that involves other ''climbers'' who use different ideologies. No matter if they call themselves espers, mages, cultivators or any other endless variant of MOSTLY meaningless labels, there is a general consensus of power. I haven''t recovered enough to give you much here, since this piece has to be embedded a little more strongly to keep the baptism from wiping it immediately, so listen up.


    "Don''t stress over what you don''t know. When it comes to your first few steps, knowing too much is almost as bad as going in blind since it can give you bad misconceptions. Your intuition is your best friend right now. It can screw you over too but it''s less likely than ''advice'', even well meant.


    "If you''re like most, you''ll have choices of realities your first couple or so times. In general, there''s no inherently better or worse one for your fist step except for three off the top of my head. There''s more to it but like I said before, too much ''advice'' is bad.


    " Don''t chose realities that are stronger ''feeling'' than you and, if you like to play it safe, any that are over half as strong. You want to be able to resist a reality''s will if it''s a meddler like the one you came from. Just know that playing it safe''s no guarantee that it actually will be. Look at what happened to me.


    "Do NOT go for realities with high concentrations of essence unless it looks primitive. It is either a trap or filled with natives that can threaten you. Usually both. Sometimes it''s a protected hub which could lead to voluntary/involuntary recruitment into trans-dimensional organizations or just plain old slavery.


    "It should be obvious but don''t chose ones that feel dark with no essence because they''re dead. Well seasoned and experienced climbers sometimes aim for those as high risk gambles, you are neither. Dim with little essence are moderately dangerous but most consider those ''treasure''. By most, I mean fourth step and higher.


    "If you find yourself in the first or second kind, don''t panic. Just keep your head down and try to blend in until you have things figured out. If you find yourself in the third, uh, good luck.. No matter how many ''steps'' you need to take, don''t jump from low to mid dimensional realities until you''re a fourth tier.


    "Just a quick draft here... First tier is no supernatural qualities. Second tier is gifted in low dimensions, no supernatural qualities in mid dimensions. Third tier is legendarily powerful in low, not much stronger than average but stands out in dangerous ways in mi... rth tier... emigod...oundary ite...ooting for y-"


    Orison didn''t have anymore time take in the message. It was ripped from him as a cool, refreshing feeling washed over the young mage. That euphoric wave didn''t last long until it built into a painful ripping sensation as Orison''s physical mind and body wavered on dissolution, shaking out damaged, corrupted or dead pieces on a molecular level before reintegrating him into a healthy whole. Orison''s soul and space were washed through in much the same manner. Body, space and soul alternately supported each other to keep the cleansing force from taking things away that were wanted.


    Dispassionately, the sub-mind provided that the baptism wouldn''t have been so intense but Orison got more than a double dose as whatever greater law of reality that supplied the cleansing and rebirth had to work ''through'' him to reach Duran. It speculated that the tree which had made a place for itself within Duran was also sentient but on a different level and elicited a minor response from the cleansing and ''rebirth'' force as well.


    Orison''s latticework ''filter'' that ran between space, soul and body was so gummed up with poisonous, corrupted and completely useless material that the cleansing wave didn''t fully clear it after he kept the latticework from being ripped away entirely. Since the lattice was like a kidney/ liver combo and his space was essentially the supernatural equivalent to a digestive tract, it wasn''t so much a surprise as it was disturbing and unsettling just how much the supernatural side of himself had in common with the physical. This realization brought a practical, if somewhat vulgar, enlightenment to the young mage.


    In general, souls didn''t have bowels. Whatever crap they accumulated during life had nowhere to go. Without a way to cleanse themselves, all souls would end up dark no matter how ''virtuous'' they lived. Orison already knew that souls moved elsewhere after life and due to his ''religious'' experience at the Whiteriver temple, he was mostly convinced virtuous souls were rewarded. The baptism that climbers experienced wasn''t meant for them at all and a physical body with no supernatural augmentation wouldn''t survive such an experience, much less benefit from it.


    The baptism hadn''t been all beneficial either but nothing wildly beyond expectations had occurred. He knew that he''d lose the remaining items in his space that weren''t ''strong'' enough and now he was intimately aware of the mechanism responsible for that. There was an inkling that non-boundary items which WERE strong enough to survive the crossover would conform to the new reality and that was partially verified as little remaining looked as it did before.


    While a light bloomed and grew in the distance, Orison realized a few more things. His soul and space had shrunk well over half but had become more dense and stable. He also noted, with some amusement, that Duran had been ''washed'' out of him as well. With a movement of will and some physical effort, he was also wearing a set of clothes unlike his hitchhiker.


    As the light drew closer, Orison was able to see that it wasn''t moving to them, they were moving towards it, and ''it'' was a sight to behold. In front of them was what appeared to be a mountainous and deeper hued celestial cousin to the eternium formation within Orison. Around it danced luminescent ribbons of nebulous gasses and bits of stone fragments that were forming minute quantities of similar crystal formations.


    A fingernail piece of the crystalline substance floated towards them. As Orison grabbed his piece and examined it, he noticed that Duran looked at his skeptically while he seemed to be pantomiming holding a shield. Switching to spirit vision, the young mage saw that there was a kind of spectral shield in front of Duran. That shield was not only protecting Duran but also Orison from what looked like hazy ripples drifting off the mountainous piece of ''astral'' eternium.


    The piece of crystal that Orison held, melted into him and attempted to shoot itself toward Orison''s spiritual seat. Out of reflex, the young mage brought it into his space instead. Once there, the liquidized crystal attempted to burrow through his latticework towards his soul but only managed to aid the speed of it''s digestion. Orison was horrified to discover that over half wasn''t digestible and within those parts were a multitude of complex models that Orison couldn''t even begin to identify but would have permeated every part of himself, causing untold amounts of effects. Under the working of his space, the models began unraveling, turning into dust particles no weaker in strength to the ones he currently thought of as ''max potency''. Not wasting the chance, Orison called upon the telekinetic model granted to him from the book of alien knowledge. He was pleased to see a few more pieces come to him but wasn''t pleased at the weakened strength and shortened range of the spell. Much like Find Objective it had become busted and more of an innate ability with limited use.


    Knowing the willful actions of the darting crystals, Orison managed to catch one with control of his space and isolate it. Before he had a chance to look it over further, a sense of free fall disrupted his thoughts as he was surrounded by a cylinder of vertical light beams. Once the light cleared, he found himself butt-planting in front of a floating astrolabe-looking device.


    Standing up, Orison looked around to notice a fairly small but clean and happy looking village. Aside from a couple of people who had briefly chuckled at his rough landing in front of the device, everyone took the appearance of strangers on the platform with ambivalent familiarity. The young mage wondered why Duran''s state of undress didn''t faze anyone but noticed that at some point during transfer here, the boy had been dressed in what appeared to be well made commoner clothes with leather or metal sewed onto them in key places.


    "Are you alright, Duran?" Orison asked.


    The boy nodded then grabbed Orison''s hand and said, "Can I see?"


    Confused, Orison gave the boy permission. Duran closed his eyes and Orison felt a sharp energy poke through his spiritual protection like a small needle.


    Withdrawing the incredibly focused energy, Duran smiled faintly before returning to his expressionless face and said, "You''re not infected."


    Orison frowned. "What do you mean?"


    "The big crystal music box, we''re in it''s cage," Duran said.

 63 Crystal Cage 1

    "Little Boss, you got to wake up. We let you sleep because it looked like it was doing you a lot of good but Rith is saying something bad is coming. I''m starting to feel jittery myself," Gan said as he shook Orison.


    Reluctantly, the young mage stirred himself and sat up. Looking around, the entire place was just a collection of greens, blues and purples in streamers of aurora borealis like light that ranged from bright to dark. He could feel a firm, somewhat giving floor but had no way at all of identifying dimension, size or anything else.


    He looked at Gan and Rithus in confusion. "Where is this? Scratch that... You said there''s a threat coming? What do you know? What have the two of you figured out?"


    Rithus said, "I made a floor with my thoughts but I have to keep thinking about it or it will disappear and we''ll be floating again."


    Orison tried his spirit sight but everything looked exactly the same, just a little washed out. Switching to focus on his weird ''Find Objective'' ability, the young mage saw a myriad of little dots. If he reached out to one, it would respond and move a little closer. The one he was experimenting on felt dangerous so he stopped drawing it to him. While he was thinking about only wanting to see the ones that didn''t have that feeling of threat, many of them winked out.


    While he was experimenting with the dots, he told them what he was seeing and they told them about the things that they had tried. What Rithus and Gan had mostly done, amounted to them playing around with the ''invisible stuff''. There was an insubstantial essence around them that could be shaped but required focus or the created object would return to nothing. While Orison played around with the dots, he had them work on trying to mentally refine something as realistically as possible.


    "We shouldn''t just keep messing around, I think. I can see a red blot on my map. It''s still pretty far away, I guess, but it''s coming straight at us," Gan said nervously.


    Orison said, "There''s no real sense of movement here. It''s mostly just thought. Don''t go in strange directions with that or you might get separated from us. I''ve pulled one of the dots close enough to see. It''s some kind of- Alright! It''s a kind of portal. Let me draw it closer."


    When the portal was only a few feet away, Orison saw lush greenery on the other side but little else. Rithus could see it too but Gan couldn''t. Not only that but Orison had the feeling he could go into it and so did Rithus but Gan''s hand would just go through it when they tried to guide him. It took a little playing around and drawing another dot to figure out that their ''tower keys'' didn''t fit all the ''locks'' for those places.


    After Orison had drawn their attention to the ''portal dots'' they started drawing the ones that all three could sense towards them. It was an interesting observation that of all the mysterious parts of himself, Orison''s busted Find Objective ability was the best method for finding them. He could ''feel'' some by following connections in his space. Spirit sight could ''see'' a couple once he knew they were there. Even the remaining eternium formation, down one of its fingers and little left of the crystal dust ring but a few chips of the shattered finger and a sparse sprinkle of the highest potency dust, would ring out in a harmonizing vibration that could draw a few.


    It was quite different for his companions. Rithus'' ''shadow in his bones'' drew him to the ones he could interact with as they drew to him. There was nothing else that the Marshlander knew of within him that could affect them. Gan also only had his map but it was as clear to the scout as it was to Orison using ''Find Objective. Between the two, they just watched their ''displays'' and as Rithus resonated with one, as long as they could both see it, they drew it forward.


    By the time they had around a dozen, they stopped pulling more. The red blot that Gan had saw on his map had gotten close enough that they could vaguely see a slightly darker smudge in the distance. Orison''s own instincts start ringing alarm bells by that point. So, with speedy but detailed observations, they made a choice. It was a peaceful and essence rich feeling place that had no apparent signs of danger or discord. Not that they could see much beyond the portal view.


    Side by side they walked closer to the portal and right before they would go through, Orison suddenly felt a strong resistance to passing build at his chest. He had forgotten about the comatose Duran inside his space. Orison quickly related the news before his companions finished walking through and he got stuck in this place alone. He started to cycle through the choices even as the three sensed for others without Orison limiting what he could see. By the time he had narrowed it down to two, Gan had been pulling on a match close enough for them to see it.


    The dangerous unidentifiable object had grown close enough for Rithus and Orison to see the details that Gan had been able to see for awhile. It looked like a twining ball of tornadoes with jagged pieces of triangular metallic objects and random debris occasionally grinding against each other. They had no doubts that greeting it was a bad idea.


    The two choices before them were, by Orison''s accounting, a 1940''s style world with a slightly dark feeling undertone and a bright, mystical place that felt rich in multiple essences. The third nearby showed a metropolitan city that seemed rather modern but it felt greater in power of existence than them by a good margin. It felt dangerous because feeling like a weak presence in comparison, instinctively seemed to indicate difficulty in survival and high chance of failure to transcend.


    With common sense elimination, the choice was clear not only to Orison but also the others. Unanimously and without reservation, they stepped through the portal which would take them to the bright world that was much more dense in essence. It would have been their first choice before the Duran hiccup but it''s strength of existence compared to themselves was a good deal higher than their second best choice which made them feel that the survival curve might end up being a bit more challenging than they were comfortable with. Right or wrong, it was time to see where stumbling around in the dark with a little guidance from Lily had brought them.


    ***


    Once Orison had walked through, his sense of sight immediately vanished. He didn''t appear where the image of the portal showed. Instead, he floated in a darkness with the feeling of ''ending'' all around him. Through that, there was a sense of possibility.


    Within the darkness, Orison heard Lily''s voice, "If you''re ''hearing'' this, it means you did it. You started your climb. Experiences during step baptism vary almost as widely as the major archetypes of keys but no matter what kind it is, the process will rebirth you. It will strengthen your existence a little each time. The biggest help comes from accumulations of ''structural poison'' and other harmful things being released from you unless the entity instilling them is seventh tier or above. Don''t confuse tiers with steps.


    "Steps are a collection of experiences that indicate the expected understanding of a person as they ''climb the tower'', greatly flawed but decently useful as a general outline. The tiers are a broader concept that involves other ''climbers'' who use different ideologies. No matter if they call themselves espers, mages, cultivators or any other endless variant of MOSTLY meaningless labels, there is a general consensus of power. I haven''t recovered enough to give you much here, since this piece has to be embedded a little more strongly to keep the baptism from wiping it immediately, so listen up.


    "Don''t stress over what you don''t know. When it comes to your first few steps, knowing too much is almost as bad as going in blind since it can give you bad misconceptions. Your intuition is your best friend right now. It can screw you over too but it''s less likely than ''advice'', even well meant.


    "If you''re like most, you''ll have choices of realities your first couple or so times. In general, there''s no inherently better or worse one for your fist step except for three off the top of my head. There''s more to it but like I said before, too much ''advice'' is bad.


    " Don''t chose realities that are stronger ''feeling'' than you and, if you like to play it safe, any that are over half as strong. You want to be able to resist a reality''s will if it''s a meddler like the one you came from. Just know that playing it safe''s no guarantee that it actually will be. Look at what happened to me.


    "Do NOT go for realities with high concentrations of essence unless it looks primitive. It is either a trap or filled with natives that can threaten you. Usually both. Sometimes it''s a protected hub which could lead to voluntary/involuntary recruitment into trans-dimensional organizations or just plain old slavery.


    "It should be obvious but don''t chose ones that feel dark with no essence because they''re dead. Well seasoned and experienced climbers sometimes aim for those as high risk gambles, you are neither. Dim with little essence are moderately dangerous but most consider those ''treasure''. By most, I mean fourth step and higher.


    "If you find yourself in the first or second kind, don''t panic. Just keep your head down and try to blend in until you have things figured out. If you find yourself in the third, uh, good luck.. No matter how many ''steps'' you need to take, don''t jump from low to mid dimensional realities until you''re a fourth tier.


    "Just a quick draft here... First tier is no supernatural qualities. Second tier is gifted in low dimensions, no supernatural qualities in mid dimensions. Third tier is legendarily powerful in low, not much stronger than average but stands out in dangerous ways in mi... rth tier... emigod...oundary ite...ooting for y-"


    Orison didn''t have anymore time take in the message. It was ripped from him as a cool, refreshing feeling washed over the young mage. That euphoric wave didn''t last long until it built into a painful ripping sensation as Orison''s physical mind and body wavered on dissolution, shaking out damaged, corrupted or dead pieces on a molecular level before reintegrating him into a healthy whole. Orison''s soul and space were washed through in much the same manner. Body, space and soul alternately supported each other to keep the cleansing force from taking things away that were wanted.


    Dispassionately, the sub-mind provided that the baptism wouldn''t have been so intense but Orison got more than a double dose as whatever greater law of reality that supplied the cleansing and rebirth had to work ''through'' him to reach Duran. It speculated that the tree which had made a place for itself within Duran was also sentient but on a different level and elicited a minor response from the cleansing and ''rebirth'' force as well.


    Orison''s latticework ''filter'' that ran between space, soul and body was so gummed up with poisonous, corrupted and completely useless material that the cleansing wave didn''t fully clear it after he kept the latticework from being ripped away entirely. Since the lattice was like a kidney/ liver combo and his space was essentially the supernatural equivalent to a digestive tract, it wasn''t so much a surprise as it was disturbing and unsettling just how much the supernatural side of himself had in common with the physical. This realization brought a practical, if somewhat vulgar, enlightenment to the young mage.


    In general, souls didn''t have bowels. Whatever crap they accumulated during life had nowhere to go. Without a way to cleanse themselves, all souls would end up dark no matter how ''virtuous'' they lived. Orison already knew that souls moved elsewhere after life and due to his ''religious'' experience at the Whiteriver temple, he was mostly convinced virtuous souls were rewarded. The baptism that climbers experienced wasn''t meant for them at all and a physical body with no supernatural augmentation wouldn''t survive such an experience, much less benefit from it.


    The baptism hadn''t been all beneficial either but nothing wildly beyond expectations had occurred. He knew that he''d lose the remaining items in his space that weren''t ''strong'' enough and now he was intimately aware of the mechanism responsible for that. There was an inkling that non-boundary items which WERE strong enough to survive the crossover would conform to the new reality and that was partially verified as little remaining looked as it did before.


    While a light bloomed and grew in the distance, Orison realized a few more things. His soul and space had shrunk well over half but had become more dense and stable. He also noted, with some amusement, that Duran had been ''washed'' out of him as well. With a movement of will and some physical effort, he was also wearing a set of clothes unlike his hitchhiker.


    As the light drew closer, Orison was able to see that it wasn''t moving to them, they were moving towards it, and ''it'' was a sight to behold. In front of them was what appeared to be a mountainous and deeper hued celestial cousin to the eternium formation within Orison. Around it danced luminescent ribbons of nebulous gasses and bits of stone fragments that were forming minute quantities of similar crystal formations.


    A fingernail piece of the crystalline substance floated towards them. As Orison grabbed his piece and examined it, he noticed that Duran looked at his skeptically while he seemed to be pantomiming holding a shield. Switching to spirit vision, the young mage saw that there was a kind of spectral shield in front of Duran. That shield was not only protecting Duran but also Orison from what looked like hazy ripples drifting off the mountainous piece of ''astral'' eternium.


    The piece of crystal that Orison held, melted into him and attempted to shoot itself toward Orison''s spiritual seat. Out of reflex, the young mage brought it into his space instead. Once there, the liquidized crystal attempted to burrow through his latticework towards his soul but only managed to aid the speed of it''s digestion. Orison was horrified to discover that over half wasn''t digestible and within those parts were a multitude of complex models that Orison couldn''t even begin to identify but would have permeated every part of himself, causing untold amounts of effects. Under the working of his space, the models began unraveling, turning into dust particles no weaker in strength to the ones he currently thought of as ''max potency''. Not wasting the chance, Orison called upon the telekinetic model granted to him from the book of alien knowledge. He was pleased to see a few more pieces come to him but wasn''t pleased at the weakened strength and shortened range of the spell. Much like Find Objective it had become busted and more of an innate ability with limited use.


    Knowing the willful actions of the darting crystals, Orison managed to catch one with control of his space and isolate it. Before he had a chance to look it over further, a sense of free fall disrupted his thoughts as he was surrounded by a cylinder of vertical light beams. Once the light cleared, he found himself butt-planting in front of a floating astrolabe-looking device.


    Standing up, Orison looked around to notice a fairly small but clean and happy looking village. Aside from a couple of people who had briefly chuckled at his rough landing in front of the device, everyone took the appearance of strangers on the platform with ambivalent familiarity. The young mage wondered why Duran''s state of undress didn''t faze anyone but noticed that at some point during transfer here, the boy had been dressed in what appeared to be well made commoner clothes with leather or metal sewed onto them in key places.


    "Are you alright, Duran?" Orison asked.


    The boy nodded then grabbed Orison''s hand and said, "Can I see?"


    Confused, Orison gave the boy permission. Duran closed his eyes and Orison felt a sharp energy poke through his spiritual protection like a small needle.


    Withdrawing the incredibly focused energy, Duran smiled faintly before returning to his expressionless face and said, "You''re not infected."


    Orison frowned. "What do you mean?"


    "The big crystal music box, we''re in it''s cage," Duran said.

 64 Crystal Cage 2

    Orison was about to ask more when a passing man said, "You folks might want to move from the platform. If someone else comes barreling through, somebody might get hurt."


    The young mage thanked the man before walking off the slightly raised circular platform. Duran stood next to him and studied the platform which made Orison curious in turn. It wasn''t anything fancy but switching to spirit vision, Orison did notice the two interlocking squares that formed an eight pointed star. The triangular portion of each point had a spell model embedded in it that had a vague similarity to the one Orison used to make beacon jumps on their previous world.


    "Sick," Duran said.


    Obviously not slang, Orison asked, "Why do you say that?"


    "It makes you need it, the big crystal music box. If you''re not infected, you can''t use it''s things," Duran said while scowling.


    Orison continued to study the platform for awhile before reaching out with magic to activate the device above it. The whole thing was magically and spiritually locked down. Orison could only see the models on the platform. The device above it was even off limits to his spirit vision. Further examination was cut off by a flash of light.


    A young, blue eyed man with feathery blond hair and an athletic build appeared on the platform beside a tall and equally well put together man with long black hair and dark eyes. The black haired man also had two sets of horns, one long and one short, that grew horizontal from his temples along the curve of his head and slightly curled at the ends, long up and short slightly down. He also had a tail, more dinosaur-like than lizard-ish even though it was thinner.


    The blond haired man saw Orison and came walking over with a smile on his face. The young mage became wary and ready for trouble. Upon seeing Orison take a loose fighting stance that shouldn''t be that easily noticed, the bond haired man frowned, looking a little sad.


    "Do I look so different you don''t know who I am, Little Boss?" the blond man said.


    Orison immediately relaxed and said, "Now that you''re a little closer, talked and I''ve had a few extra seconds, yeah." Turning to the black haired guy, Orison said, "You''re Rithus?"


    The man nodded with a grim look on his face and walked over with a strangely wide and awkward gait.


    Concerned, Orison asked, "Are you hurt?"


    Rithus tilted his head slightly to the side, looking confused.


    "Why are you walking like you''ve ridden a horse for too long?" Orison said.


    Rithus walked closer and leaned down a bit to whisper, "My parts...down there, they''re on the outside. It-it feels wrong!"


    Trying hard not to laugh in the face of Rithus'' misery, the young mage said, "Go through Morrel''s forms a few times... Not your modified one, the original... Like this, like I''m doing."


    Gan introduced himself to Duran properly and the boy just nodded, saying his name once before lapsing back into alert silence as Orison walked Rithus through the stances. Once it looked like Rithus had the hang of it, Orison asked him to ignore the strangeness of sensation and walk in the ''always ready'' pattern which was essentially just walking with an ingrained sense of balance and measured step. With Morrel''s martial training as a guide, Orison had Rithus capable of walking without drawing unwanted attention fairly quickly.


    Gan interrupted them after a bit to say, "Uh, we only have two days to choose a trainer and they''re broken up between the five capital cities. After that, the transporters and trainers won''t be free anymore."


    The time that Gan and Rithus had already spent on this world was five hours compared to Orison and Duran just finishing their first. That time had been spent well despite Rithus'' weird walking. Gan had managed to figure out a good many things, including on where they needed to go to get what training.


    Unfortunately, Duran put a blot on that by pointing out an unpleasant truth. "Gan can. He''s infected. We can''t."


    After more discussion and Orison filling in some blanks based off of Gan and Rithus'' experiences, the young mage realized their group had some big problems. Duran''s excruciating process of explaining what he knew a few words at a time made that problem clearer but offered no immediate solutions.


    This world had a clear division between two types of people, the Chosen and the Children. The Chosen were those called to the ''spirit of the mother'', the big crystal music box, to be given a spark, the infection. The Children were their descendants, up to three generations. Beyond three generations, the Children became infertile but that generation of descendants had the greatest number of new chosen selected from it.


    The Chosen could get a leg up in life by benefiting from devices that instilled a year or so worth of learning at a time and could go to any one of those trainer devices to learn from it for a fee that got increasingly more expensive. The Children could use general devices and store items in a limited extra-dimensional space using their inherited ''infection'' but the trainers wouldn''t work for them. That wasn''t to say that the Children couldn''t learn. They just had to do it the old-fashioned way.


    It was a no-brainer who had the advantage but the Children weren''t overtly discriminated against. They were simply relegated to support and were encouraged to learn for the purpose of innovation and discovery. The drive to learn by personal experience outside of what trainers required for integration and retention was something that the vast majority of Chosen seemed to lack entirely as they grew dependent on the easier learning provided by the trainers.


    There were major downsides to being one of the Children that discouraged them from seeking to step out from the support role no matter how skillful they became. Creatures only dropped things for Chosen before disappearing. Also, the Children didn''t re-spawn like Chosen, they just died and disappeared like creatures did.


    The world had a lot of game-like qualities but it wasn''t a game at all. The Chosen might be able to re-spawn but their souls would take the brunt. After a few deaths without time and soul enriching experiences, the ''mother spirit'' would deem the soul too tired to return and place it back into the ''cycle''. Creatures of the world had a similar phenomenon that guided their existences, biggest difference being that their spaces accumulated things from birth and dropped them at death. If the creatures became too low in number, they''d begin to re-spawn too. Even natural resources would renew themselves after a time.


    The loop wasn''t indefinite. The Chosen were selected around adulthood which ranged from eighteen to twenty or race equivalent years. In five to seven years, the trainers stopped working for them and in ten to twelve, the re-spawns would stop happening as well. Once in a great while, a handful of figures among the Chosen would rise above the limits and transcend, motivating the other Chosen to strive for similar glory. From Orison''s perspective, the world was an efficient, well maintained and balanced soul farm.


    Orison sighed deeply and said, "Alright, it''s not that bad of a trap. We can see that Gan wasn''t brainwashed by the ''song'' and radiation you protected us from, Duran. It just adjusted them to better fit the world and instilled some awe by letting them feel it''s record of ''motherly love''. As soon as he knew the truth, it lost most of its grip. Right, Gan?"


    The archer nodded and said, "It''s kinda sad. I''m almost resentful, almost. I wouldn''t go around trying to wake up others if I were you. I have a strong feeling that it would be dangerous."


    Orison acknowledged Gan and said, "The important thing is that we don''t fall into everyone else''s pace. To get what we need from this world, we have to play along but we''re just like the Children, except for Gan. I''ll be able to figure out workarounds eventually but we''ll need to hit things one at a time.


    "I don''t think I need to say this but... Gan, if you die, playing catch up will be very hard. I have a feeling the soul fading thing is going to take a lot away from you and you might lose your conduit. I couldn''t see your map ''key'' or conduit before with spirit vision but I can see them now. That crystal thing has it''s tendrils wrapped around them tightly. It might not even re-spawn you at all."


    Orison spent some time observing the culture and how people got the things they needed. Fortunately, although almost everyone did space to space transfers for currency and stored their goods rather than carry them, there were a few who didn''t. Despite those few being in the minority, no one really seemed to care.


    For whatever reason, gold was the only currency. Orison now understood why the silver and copper coins in his inventory had all vanished, turning into a slightly smaller amount of gold instead. He wasn''t going to complain as that had nearly tripled the amount of gold he had but he was also anxious. Having close to a hundred thousand gold might seem like a lot but a single stay at an inn was thirty in Lavendar, the village that they had found themselves in.


    Though it would put Gan in a bit of a time crunch for free training, they waited until a less crowded time of day and had Gan activate the transporter. Since the chosen could bring one of the children along with them, it was easy for the young mage to pop from one place to another with Gan. By around midnight, Orison finally felt confident that he understood all the parts of the transporter''s interlinking models. Returning to their rented inn room, the young mage spent the rest of the night stripping the trapped crystal in his space of those models and transferred them to a broken shard of eternium from the finger that had shattered off the formation. After testing that it did work but pulled around a hundred gold from his space each time, the mage was filled with a mixed sense of accomplishment and agitation.


    Once he finished copying the pattern onto another shard, Orison was interrupted by Rithus moments after handing the shard over. "You do not need to make another for Duran. The shadow in my bones has seen what you have done and now does it for me. It''s eating the bad crystal and keeping the good things. With time, I''ll have all the good things but I need to see them to know what''s good and what''s bad."


    Orison shrugged and handed the shard to Duran.


    The boy said, "More can fit. Wick is shrinking the lines."


    Orison said, "What is Wick?"


    "The tree." Duran stated woodenly.


    The young mage smacked himself in the head. Each one of them had a unique way of seeing things and between them all much more of the puzzles and mysteries surrounding the mountainous crystal''s cage could be solved. Pooling their knowledge and supernatural abilities together, they came up with a plan.


    Making full use of Gan''s free day of transporter and trainer interactions coupled with his ability to bring a person along as a retainer, the three others had their turn observing the two devices as well as how space to space transfers worked. Two more days down and nearly half of Orison''s fortune spent, all four could now pass as chosen. The remaining large problem that no one could make any real headway in was how to remove the ''infection'' from Gan. When the time came for them to leave this reality, no one knew how it would affect him but since they were all ''locked in'' even the idea of how to leave was an unknown at the moment.


    Shelving that issue for the moment, Orison went over their gains in the past two days as they spent the night in Lavendar yet again. With Orison''s trapped crystal as reference and pattern stripping material, they could copy over the models they needed. With Wick the tree''s help, these copied models could fit onto the two shards that Duran and Orison each carried one of. With each usable model stripped, Rithus'' shadow could understand more of the crystal and the greater one behind all this.


    After spending quite a bit of that two day span unlocking the ability to use the trainers under the guise of careful consideration about their future path in life, the group of four were perhaps one of the most knowledgeable sets of chosen at the starting line. Because of this, they all had an understanding of the next step after basic training sets that had them being more careful about their choices and that would lead to less wasted time later. It also illustrated yet another problem. Once these choices were made, it was impossible to change one''s mind and learn another set without waiting for a year or temporarily forgetting one, a process that required dying once. That meant, unlike other chosen, once they picked, that''s what they''d be using for the whole time they were here.


    The beginning maximum was two combat training sets, one gathering and one processing profession, only one of which was free for Gan. Due to the window shopping, they were aware basic combat jobs mixed to make specialist jobs and made plans to pick accordingly. Without spending too much time admiring the capital cities, the group of four bounced between them to get the training they wanted.


    Gan picked up archer and druid so he could become a ranger later on. He didn''t have much of a hunger for magic but what little he did find appealing, druid had it at low enough proficiency it wouldn''t stop him from getting what he needed to pursue what he wanted. He also didn''t have a taste for crafting or artistry but dismantling and leather working didn''t bother him much. Within the knowledge for dismantling was a change to his infecting crystal that would slow down the world''s reclaiming of things that he killed and mark parts he kept in his space. Orison understood why chosen approaching the end of their 10-12 year term almost all picked it up.


    Rithus'' choices were a little baffling considering what they knew of things but Orison trusted him to do what was best despite how the world wanted things done. The former Marshlander had chosen elementalist and lancer for his combat training despite no specialist jobs linking them. After some consideration, Rithus also dropped a gathering training to pick up the least popular woodworking training and tailoring as well. With a faint smile, Rithus patted his craft bag to reassure himself before it once again vanished once no one was looking.


    Duran picked guardian and healer with little fuss but Orison had some doubts as to whether the battle cleric specialist job had anything to do with it. Unsurprisingly, the boy chose mining and blacksmith, more because he had no real interest in craft work but was familiar and wanted to be helpful even if he didn''t particularly like it. The boy wasn''t particularly motivated to excel but was more than willing to pitch in and seemed to have an innate dislike of watching others have a hard time or get hurt.


    Going last, Orison, had changed his mind on picks. Originally, he had planned on picking in line with the knowledge of what would give best bang and not overlap with other''s choices but Rithus and Duran had reminded him indirectly that it was more important for pursuits to keep true to one''s own path and desire. He chose summoner and artificer.


    Both of them were at the very bottom of suggested first choices as they were complicated and considered support roles. Summoners were considered to be half healer and half guardian, not good at either but paired well with healer as a primary focus. Artificers were considered half elementalist and half adventurer, terrible at either but paired decently with them. They were so theory heavy that the trainer docked a training slot, only allowing him to get the alchemist training but not the herbalist gathering training that would make it worth while. Though Orison wanted to complain about that, after finishing the alchemist training ''installation'', he had to admit that his head felt a little overly full.


    To finish off, Orison had to buy the gear and equipment everyone''s training required. That mostly only pertained to crafting and gathering jobs but Orison wanted his people to start off with decent defensive gear because the free starter stuff was all garbage. No one would be fighting as a group or making anything for anyone else until they''d done the follow up instructor guided classes and practice exercises that came with the trainer downloads.


    This world wasn''t filled with morons and the capital largess provided instruction to keep promising hopefuls from rushing off and getting themselves killed. The leaders of various organizations also didn''t want the market flooded with cheap, shoddy works that would cause people to get hurt or sick. In fact, they didn''t want markets to be flooded, period, and would direct new tradesman to the goods or services that currently were most needed in their fields. They insured everyone had something to do without stepping on each other''s toes or crashing the value of things.


    The following instruction period was going to be responsible for separating the group up for nearly two months. The last night in Lavendar was a short, informal farewell party. To keep anyone from being cut loose with no one else around for too long, the order of instructors was shuffled around until everyone would have someone else in the same capital that they were in with two glaring exceptions, both of Orison''s combat instruction periods and Gan''s druid instruction.


    Truth was, aside from the two weeks that Orison would be spending with Duran as the boy''s protection target during guardian training, the schedule was more of a psychological salve. Everyone would mostly be too busy with their instructors to do much more than check in with each other. So the next day, everyone bid their farewells to each other as they went about their own way after Orison doled out a few hundred gold to each person.

 65 Crystal Cage 3

    Leisurely strolling to his destination, Orison took in the the Capital of Thoth. Situated on a mesa of dreary tundra, it was all too often under a thin film of clouds that never quite produced enough rain or let in enough light of day to bloom into the grassland that covered the map surrounding it. The city''s main claim to fame were the vast amounts of low-end magical tech it made and the sizable amount of elementalists that called it home. The summoner training device was also here but once the instructor period was over, those rare few who focused on summoner as their main profession tended to be migratory.


    Orison got the feeling that something had gone wrong with the original designed purpose of this place. He highly doubted this mesa that seemed to practically bubble with spiritual essence should feel so essence deficient in the air. No doubt, this was likely one of the reasons summoner''s potential was so rarely explored. On the way to see his summoner instructor, the young mage''s spirit sight revealed the prevalent problems of this place. Between advanced elementalists practicing their destructive magic at the mesa''s edges where it wouldn''t hurt anyone and the manufacturers sucking essence out of the ground to fuel their mass produced convenience items, the mecca of summoners had turned into a nightmare of smog and ozone.


    Slightly depressed, Orison finally greeted his instructor, a wild haired human who wasn''t actually a summoner at all but had managed to reached the required mark to earn extra money as an instructor while trying to elevate his achievements in elemental magic. At thirty-five the man looked older than forty and his spiritual outline looked a touch faded. Obviously having met a little too much tragedy in his Chosen status prime, the man was likely scared of death and took the route of many other ''retired'' elementalists before him.


    "There are always one or two Chosen every year who choose this training to augment their elementalist profession. You won''t hear me complaining since it means I get to keep my measly 100 gold a week salary. The name''s Mylar, by the way." the man with short but unruly black hair touched by a few white streaks, said.


    Orison introduced himself as well while trying not to imagine the man being made out of aluminum covered plastic.


    Mylar continued, "So, have you completed your elementalist instruction or have you came here first? I need to know if you''ll start throwing ice and fire around if you get startled."


    Not wanting to start hearing more well-meaning but unwanted advice about killing himself and dropping one of his combat trainings, Orison said, "Here first."


    As the man went on a bland diatribe of what a summoner was and how a person went on to get started, Orison interrupted him. "I apologize but what would it take to do the practical parts of this instruction period closer to the druid''s beginner zone?"


    Stunned for a moment, the instructor asked why.


    Orison explained, "A partially brain-dead person could figure out that this mesa has long become a place where summoning would be hard to train in. Spirit infused magic is alive in a manner of speaking. This place couldn''t be more dead without becoming a necropolis. The only place that even comes close to the environment that this place presumably once resembled is the druid''s beginner zone."


    The instructor frowned thoughtfully then said, "If you''re willing to bear the expense of our transport and willing to return without complaint if another potential future summoner stumbles in here at any time during your instructor period, then it''s not a bother. It might be a fairly decent change of pace."


    Orison coughed dryly, "As long as you don''t insist on inn rooms and restaurant meals in Daub, then fine. 400 gold is already a bit rich for the blood."


    Mylar laughed. "You won''t find an elementalist whose afraid to spend a few nights in a tent unless it''s storming but during this time, if we find a need for shelter, I''m sure the druid instructor wouldn''t mind hosting us for a stormy night or two. Chances are good that just the story of why we are there may end up buying us at least one decent meal."


    Initially, Orison thought that moving to outside the woodland city of Daub would be a hassle but the instructor seemed more eager than him to go. It occurred to him that Mylar may not have been that great of a success story and now found himself lacking the savings to make trips like this often. Considering a round trip would cost half a month''s salary, if Orison was in the instructor''s place, he''d have cried tears of joy to temporarily escape this dismal cesspit for a couple of weeks.


    Stepping off the transport platform at Daub, Orison briefly soaked in the sight of aesthetically appealing tree houses while breathing in the significantly sweeter air. Though Mylar was doing the same, the older man was trying to be sly about it. To grant a little dignity to himself, Mylar restarted the tutorial lectures Orison was certain the man could deliver while sleeping as they walked.


    Since it was only polite as their presence was a bit unorthodox, Mylar briefly explained the situation to the druid instructor which not only ''bought'' them a meal but a place to stay for the entire time that they were there. Druidic path wasn''t quite as unpopular as summoner but the majority of it''s students were like Gan and didn''t have much propensity for magic. As soon as they had understanding enough to forego it to advance to ranger, it was abandoned entirely. It did have its fair share of post thirties constituents as the druidic path boasted some vitality preserving aspects at its later stages but those older students rarely desired instruction for more than an hour or two to help them get the initial concepts down.


    At the moment, the elven druid instructor who insisted on being called Mo, didn''t have any active students so as Orison and Mylar where about their business, the elf tagged along to alleviate boredom. That ended up being a boon to Orison and Mylar both as the elf''s quiet conversation with Mylar kept the elementalist from interrupting Orison with unneeded advice on how to ''feel'' the flow of spiritual essence and gave Mylar pleasant companionship.


    What typically took anywhere from one to two days for a beginner in summoning to accomplish took Orison all of one hour. The young mage had no idea of how long it would have taken him in Thoth but considering that the introductory summoned sprite was a little larger and healthier than the standard, he was glad he did. Taking it out to smack around dog sized bugs and using it to heal a few herbalists for nearly a week instead of beating around on a training dummy and wasting time having it heal minor injuries on factory workers who could care less was just icing on the cake.


    Mylar commented, "I''d place it at what a hard working Summoner could achieve in around a month. That almost makes your shelling out 200 gold to get us here worth it but you''re going to have to really put in spectacular effort if you want to even come close to making the other 200 worthwhile. You''d be better off chasing herbalists around and begging for tips than swatting horn beetles all night and day. Without alchemy, the random herbs they drop aren''t going to be of much use-"


    Orison, who was in the process of synthesizing a weak potion, spared enough attention to raise an eyebrow at Mylar before returning to his task. In truth, the herbs that the beetles occasionally dropped couldn''t be used to make anything by themselves but two of the herbalists who''d ran into a bit of trouble were appreciative and easily coaxed into giving up a couple plants or selling them cheap. Not only had Orison used this chance to make a few introductory potions but also learned that taking herbalist would have been a waste of beginner''s training.


    Mundane herbalists among the Children were more than capable of providing what an alchemist needed for quite some time as long as one knew where to buy and didn''t need to hang on to the ingredients beyond a day or two. Tack on that Orison had already started integrating and slightly moving beyond the drawn boundaries of the information provided by the trainers and the only good thing about learning the gathering training was the world granted ability to horde what had been harvested. Orison wasn''t overly interested in doing much hording of raw ingredients to begin with.


    The young mage asked, "What is the prevalent theory on the determining factors for what a creature drops?"


    Mylar collected his thoughts and said, "There are many unverified ones but two with decent enough evidence to be considered verified. Reim''s Distribution states that Children and Chosen who die are primarily responsible for items that make no sense for a creature to drop, such as gold and random equipment. Prime compulsion theory states that creatures will congregate near the particular natural resource that can be found in their drops... That second one also is the explanation for why creatures don''t wander too far from their zones and will kill each other if their numbers become too large instead of migrating as the intelligent races would."


    The next part of the instruction involved moving to the outer edge of the beginner zone and getting into a few unwinnable positions. After the instructor got them out of it, doing it again until the threat of death was no longer frightening and would no longer cause the student to freeze up. At the edge of the druid beginner zone were wasps the size of small birds of prey. Their stings could paralyze from pain and were nearly impossible to outrun.


    Orison was requested to draw three at once, prepare himself to taste some pain and then the instructor would jump in to help. Due to Morrel''s training and the gradual effects of the miasma''s remaining trickle adjustments of his physique, after being stung once and not seeing the instructor jump in, the young mage dispatched them himself. The instructor simply asked him to draw four and then five when four couldn''t overwhelm. When it was six and Orison had been stung enough to actually be paralyzed on his last two, he seethed in pain filled anger as the summoned sprite struggled to keep Orison alive while trying to take them down. Though the little floating ball of silvery green light finally fell, the wasps were distracted by it long enough for Orison''s paralysis to wear off.


    After finishing them off himself, Orison turned on the instructor and said, "What the hell, Mylar!? If you weren''t my instructor, I''d stick a dagger in your a** and remove your hemorrhoids free of charge!"


    The currently stony faced man stuttered on the order to draw seven before busting out into a laugh. "I can''t do it... I''m supposed to push you to your limit and even if you felt like you were dying, you were only about halfway there. I still had plenty of opportunity to step in. That was your current limit and you knew that five was your safe limit. You kept calm and didn''t need me to step in. Don''t hold a grudge for me doing my job, alright."


    Mo stepped out of hiding where he''d been tailing them out of boredom. "Quite impressive dagger-work. I thought you said he was a primary elementalist but just came to do your instruction first."


    Orison shook his head and said, "That was Children taught, if you''re thinking I''m an adventurer. It''s one of the reasons I chose artificer as my second combat. I figured spirit formed creatures would actually blend well with the magicked constructs as long as I had some actual physical prowess to balance it out."


    Mylar and Mo looked at Orison with the same pitying eyes while Mo said, "The training devices introduce supernatural features later on that Children training just can''t imitate. The time of arch-summoning and grand constructs are gone. I might be a middle of the barrel druid but even I''m sensitive enough to the turning of Osomo, may the mother source of soul watch over us, to know that it will not return. We will be fortunate if the great magics do not fall next."


    Mylar chimed in, "Orison, I thought you were one of the bright ones, not some idealistic dreamer. The basic mixed trainings are only supplemental to other pure ones. Sure, you can dabble into the aspects of four different trainings this way but ultimately all you''ll earn is one year gone and a bit more insight. I won''t say that''s all bad and I certainly wouldn''t be so callous as to suggest intentional suicide to learn something else. What I will say is that even the best pair of trainings that lead to nothing more aren''t capable of keeping their head up in front of the worst of specialist trainings. This isn''t either. It''s the absolute worst pairing possible."


    Orison kept a pleasant face by act of sheer will, "I will only say this once and will deny having ever said it if another asks. The trainers may make you powerful beyond wildest expectations but they are a crutch that turns into shackles later when you lose the strength to meet its requirements. If you want even a shred of a chance of surpassing the world, go back to the very basics.


    "Have Children who learn the hard way fill in the blanks and show you the hows to understand the whys. If you don''t, the next whole chapter of your lives will just be facing safe challenges and building a family, nothing more... Oh, you think I speak rudely? What do you think the cataclysms that come every few generations are? They are outsiders who see your world as a prize and fight to claim it.


    "Your own ''mother'' sings to you her love and desires you to rise but so few ever do that she is left with no option but to flee each time. Surpassing your ''mother'' isn''t a blasphemy, it''s what children are supposed to do. When the day comes that she must flee again, perhaps one of you could be the one that insures Osomo can survive. Perhaps the unthinkable can occur and you won''t have to flee at all."


    To cut off their arguments, Orison cast the revamped heal he''d finally pieced together after days of observing his sprite and comparing the two reality''s models he had. It was weak and unstable but just as effective as the druid''s basic heal, looking nothing like any heal that the elementalist or druid had ever seen. Watching the weak but greatly more penetrative effect of his faintly opaline heal, the two instructors fell silent and pensive.


    Thus distracted and no longer nattering at him, Orison was reveling in his own discovery. At first, he thought something had gone wrong with Find Objective and then again with telekinesis but becoming ''broken'' was the goal. When a spell moved beyond a model and simply became an ability without model, it would be weak, like starting over again. Find Objective was showing signs of gaining additional features and had a slightly increased range. Telekinesis had just broken here and was weak but with time and additional discovery, Orison had no doubts it would grow stronger. After three separate models from three separate existences where used to build the healing model he was using now, it showed signs of becoming ''broken'' as well.


    A new thought provided by his sub-mind made something clear as well. There was only so much space for these spells that became abilities. At some point, extra spell knowledge would become no more than that, extra. He needed to become more selective about what he tried to elevate before he ran out of room to store them or he''d run out of space. That didn''t make learning more models and theory a total waste of time, however. Telekinesis was already showing some signs of picking up traits of other telekinetic models at a rate that only his sub-mind could vaguely observe.


    It was just a rudimentary concept at that point but he''d not only have to make sure not to fill up on abilities he didn''t really need or want above other choices, he needed to let the ones he had, have room to grow as well. Since his abilities could absorb other concepts to make themselves more versatile and stronger, Orison categorized what he knew. He then divided it up into five greater concepts and an overarching duality he''d focus on above others until he knew more.


    Find Objective would become the kernel of Spirit. Healing would become the kernel of Life. Kinetics would become the kernel of Force. His understanding of spacial concepts through the one he possessed and his growing understanding of teleportation would make Space. The faintly understood transmutative properties that existed within his space and conjuration models would form Matter once he understood them both a bit better.


    Above and below those concepts were the duality of creation and destruction. Whether individually or combined applications of those kernels, Orison made golems, summoned creatures and conjured things. He used those very same forces to destroy things. The duality existed, in Orison''s mind, as nothing more than a sliding scale but that sliding scale accommodated interactions with multiple kernels and allowed concepts that only dwelt partially in one or more, a place to reside.


    At the moment, all Orison had done was give a structure for himself and his sub-mind to fit everything he knew into so that he could understand it better and give his growth a definite direction. Since his capacity was finite, he wanted to use it as efficiently as possible. That required some future planning and he felt that he had that covered for the meantime.


    When Orison looked up from his thoughts to see the two instructors staring at him with hopeful eyes, Orison said, "I suppose I know a small thing or two I could share but it''s equal exchange or nothing!"

 66 Crystal Cage 4

    With little else to do in Mylar''s opinion but grind out the remaining week, the two instructors and Orison had a basics information powwow instead. After two days, the sharing of healing magic theory became the tipping point to ''breaking'' Orison''s healing model into an ability. Though the druid was far from capable of doing that, his emerald colored healing had taken on a touch of prismatic sheen and was nearly strong enough to rival a healer''s ''mid-heal''. Orison had a hunch that the druid had been on to this trail before but had given up before reaching that critical eureka moment.


    The next three days weren''t immediately as rewarding for Orison but sharing with Mylar had managed to get Orison to the point where he could form a flimsy fire shot and could use presto again. Mylar, on the other hand, nearly lost his mind. The petty Degree Shift that Orison had been neglecting as simply a part of the much more useful Presto, held a secret within it. It wasn''t a secret that benefited Orison but within was the most fundamental and easily observable foundation of the elementalist''s entire branching tree of ever more powerful applications.


    Seeing that he''d lost Mylar for the umpteenth time to the elementalist''s own thoughts, Orison got him to promise signing off on his instruction. With how weakly Mylar responded, the young mage had Mo promise to remind Mylar and left them to their own personal enlightenments. He had one more thing to accomplish before he ran off to Fortune for his artificer instruction.


    Heading back out to the area that contained the wasps, Orison repeatedly summoned and dismissed his sprite while making minute adjustments each time. After a full day of this process, it looked quite different. Instead of a silvery green ball, it was a blurry white humanoid with opaline insect wings made of spirit and magic. The nearly foot tall figure could still heal, a little better in fact, but its real advantage from before was the speed and viciousness it had while attacking. With how far spread out the wasps were getting, Orison could barely draw them faster than the ''alien fairy'' could kill them with it''s razor-like hands and feet.


    The part that made Orison smile was the reconnect of his space to things made of his spirit essence and magic. Not only was Orison getting a trickle of spiritual essence and a few grains of crystal dust per kill but was greedily ripping whatever might be in the creature''s spaces. Not wanting to draw much attention, Orison stopped before he''d thinned them out too much. After all, Gan would need practice targets later too when he went for druid instruction.


    Taking his sweet time walking back towards Daub, Orison hadn''t made it very far when a couple of Children herbalists were making their way back on to the path. One had strayed a little too close to a wasp that had wandered a bit out of it''s usual orbit due to Orison''s insect genocide. In a panic, the herbalist beat it down with a stick and the other jumped forward to crush its head with their snake beater staff. As if it was a catalyst, small bits of dark smoky substance gathered off the bodies of wasps Orison had killed but hadn''t completely disappeared yet.


    Within less than a second, the smoky essence rushed toward the Children killed wasp. The corpse levitated off the ground and transformed into a black wasp the size of a full grown man. It''s first target was the two Children frozen under some kind of fear effect. Orison had no time to think if he wanted to save them. Pulling a bow out from his space, the young mage drew the mutant wasp''s hate to himself with a sticking arrow blow.


    As soon as Orison saw it turn to him, shrugging off the arrow as if it was a sticky leaf, Orison put the bow away as he summoned his first sprite and donned his mask. The slowly drifting wasp, lashed out in a charge move Orison only avoided due to already somewhat strafing to keep the stinger off center of his body. Tossing the sprite to his sub-mind for maintenance and control, Orison summoned a second.


    While dancing around the wasp, trying to keep a good balance between enough distance to read the wasp''s movements and close enough not to waste energy, he ordered his sprites to attack. His hope was that if he could keep from engaging, the creature would be drawn to the sprites that threatened it, allowing him to flee. Orison might not be balancing on a knife''s edge of death yet but as soon as he started getting winded the slim chance of escape would be gone.


    Without diverting his attention, Orison screamed at the couple. "Go get the druid instructor! Don''t just lay there and die with me. If you''re fast enough, I might still survive... Go, damn it!"


    The second yell shook them from their stupor as they scrambled off at top speed. A very slow looking top speed to Orison who''d have to dance with this devil wasp until help could arrive.


    Orison took in and released a deep breath as the wasp slowed for a moment. "Alright, ugly, It''s just you, me and my little alien fairies."


    Seeing that the wasp didn''t divert from trying to run him through with it''s stinger no matter how many scratches the sprites put on it, Orison gave up on trying to shake the hate. He tried a dagger, his flimsy fire shot and finally his touch heal as it brushed past. Orison wondered what people would think if they saw the last one but he was desperate and out of ideas. Whatever was animating the wasp didn''t actually like it and flinched minutely. With a new direction to try, Orison switched to touch attacking with heal as it brushed by while his sprites would scrape it''s shell and release tiny ticks of heal with each strike.


    Right as Orison was worried he''d get too tired to dodge anymore, the wasp seemed to get slower too and started showing tattered holes in its smoke along with cracked rot spots on it''s shell. For the first time since the fight started, the wasp retreated a little instead of advancing. Taking that as a sign of eminent victory, Orison continued backing away slowly while looking for surprises as the fairies kept chipping away at it.


    On the verge of collapse, the wasp let out a dark spray from the top of its head. The fairies were instantly corroded and Orison turned to run a split second too late. The spray that had taken out the fairies fell right before him causing him to stop and pinwheel his arms to keep from touching it. Contrary to expectation, the spray didn''t finish falling to the ground but became a shell that trapped Orison in with it.


    With nowhere to go and knowing the creature was preparing some kind of mutual destruction move, Orison pulled out the only shield he had left in his space. He crouched into it as best he could while summoning out a fairy to go chip at the dying again, mutant wasp. A second later, Orison saw the fairy fly past him into the barrier shell and vaporize into motes of light before he too was lifted off the ground and slammed into the shell.


    Knocked breathless, Orison saw the shield let off a vapor as it began dissolving. Gathering up what strength he could into shaky arms and wobbly legs, Orison dug at the ground furiously a couple of times before laying into it and covering himself with the melting shield right before another corrosive wave ran over him. Shield now useless and only a couple of seconds til another corrosive wave came to start melting him too, Orison slid directly underneath the creature after wrapping himself up in a fancy but otherwise useless cape from his space.


    As soon as the feeling of concussive blast faded, Orison dropped the cape and pulled out a spear he had absolutely no real skill in and rammed it as hard as he could through one of the shell openings. A splash of fluids fell on Orison before another corrosive wave of force threw him maximum distance into the shell. Apparently enough time had passed on the supernatural ability that had made the shell because instead of shattering his bones and organs on it, he went through.


    Pain ran inwards and outwards at the same time. Barely holding on to consciousness, the blind and def Orison summoned a fairy to tickle the undying monster to death, unwilling to give up. Last thread left, Orison brought out one each of his best stamina and healing potions, smashing them on himself. Braced for death, he instead felt washes of cooling sensation and after an agonizing eternity of around three minutes, sight and hearing started coming back.


    "It might have been more merciful to just let him respawn, Mo," Mylar''s voice said.


    Mo responded, "If someone fights that hard to live, they don''t want to respawn. You know as well as I, if he has the resources to pour into keeping his life, it''s better not to start at the beginning of his Chosen career with a death already down."


    Orison croaked, "So how close did I come to killing that thing?"


    Mylar said, "Many creatures in this world are at their most dangerous right before death. I once saw a whole hundred or more obliterated by getting a fiend dragon CLOSE to death. You save your best for crossing that finish line. If you need your best to even hurt it, don''t even try to race."


    Bitterly, Orison said, "Easy for you to say. Can''t outrun, can''t fight and don''t want to die. I did what I could."


    Mo sighed. "I believe what Mylar was trying to explain is the best course is to stall for time not slowly whittle at them while stalling for time. In you''re case, I would have done the same, I think. You had no idea if we could make it in time to help you so you were just doing what you could to help yourself... One naturalize gave me the finishing blow. It was really close. Maybe your sprite could have given you a miracle. We''ll never know."


    Orison took out another healing potion to hit him from the inside out because he was so injured, his and the druid''s heals weren''t reaching everywhere.


    Mo bickered, "What''s the matter with you, soft head. You''re not in combat. Let the healing do it''s thing. Even the worst heal will take care of injuries eventually and Mo''s is far from that."


    Orison sneered through slightly crackling skin. "Are you for real? I have systemic damage. Even the potion is going to leave hidden injuries that will take-"


    Mo interrupted. "You''re not one of the Children anymore, imbecile. Whatever healing misses, trainers and transporters correct. If they didn''t, every Chosen would be a walking scar on the border of death long before a decade was over."


    The young mage had no idea how much of that was true for him but he had to swallow the insult down.


    Mo said, "Speaking of which. You''re stable enough to make it through transport. Be careful not to kill too many of any type of creature on any given day. It''s usually not too hard to tell when you''ve thinned too much. I know the Children triggered the grudge this time and it was kind of you to step forward for them but you had to be running fairly close to the line. A Child''s actions get exaggerated reactions but not THAT exaggerated."


    Mylar lent a shoulder to help get Orison to the transporter. "Well, at least I''ll have a great report to file for you. Don''t look at me like that. I meant the test of your limits. You really did come close to finishing on your own. I''m not encouraging you to do something like that again but IF you have to, remember to save your best for last. In defiance of common sense, unlike people, special creatures seem to suddenly gain unlimited energy and usually have a powerful ability that they''ll just keep using over and over until they expire. A few of the truly unique ones become like completely different creatures entirely with a variety of despair inducing actions they can take."


    As he paid for the instructor''s trip and then his own to Fortune, Orison thought. "All the better to harvest a part of your soul with, Little Red Riding Hood."


    One day ahead of schedule, Orison grudgingly forked over another twenty gold for a room with meal and focused on concentrated healing what the transporter missed. With what little time he had left before succumbing to exhaustion, the young mage took stock of the gains he had acquired from the grudge. It was a vague feeling but Orison had sensed that when the creature died after going berserk mode, it had a wider connection to the source.


    In that space the grudge had been connected to lay a multitude of things Orison couldn''t sense but his secondary connection had managed to grab a random handful of it. Most of it was money but he now had a funky wand and floating book combo that was mostly ornamental in physical use but gave some neat minor bonuses. The real blessing after tragedy was the copious amount of crystal dust and the mending nub of eternium on his formation that finally slowed down to a level only his sub-mind could track next to an hour after he had arrived in fortune.


    The young mage hadn''t felt a surge of strengthening capable of being detected with just his mundane senses since the ''night of horrors'' and even then it had only been after the fact. He suspected that the surge had been more responsible for his speedy recovery than the transporter. Admittedly, the transporter did do a decent job of adjusting appearance and cleanliness but that was it. His last thought before sleep took him was how, on a purely financial level, he had still lost more than a hundred gold in spite of all his gains.


    Bright and early the next day, Orison reported in to the artificer''s instructor. The gnome that greeted him there was a great deal more friendly than he''d expected and had only been ''retired'' a year before but still seemed spiritually bright and even looked a few years younger than his retirement would suggest he should be. It didn''t take long to find out that a good portion of the reason for that was because he was a ''she''. Aside from a set of vivid mint green eyes, Orison felt that nature had been a bit too unkind to her in making her look decently handsome when mistaken as a man but rather lacking compared to other women, even Gnomish ones.


    A bit of Alta''s cheerful enthusiasm to have a new student faded as she noticed an expression on Orison''s face that she''d likely seen many times before. Before she addressed it herself, Orison apologized for his rudeness and got the introductory lecture back on track. With a note to himself to find a way to mend the poor first impression he''d made, Orison listened in.


    After a standard rundown of schematic reading and rudimentary engineering familiarity necessary to get started, Alta asked, "I don''t expect any to be as enthusiastic about artificer abilities as I am. Don''t feel like you have to pretend to be to get through this. As long as I see that you''re not letting what I say fall on def ears, I won''t have a problem with a minor lack of excitement."


    Orison smiled and said, "Mine were melted off by a grudge the day before yesterday but they''re working alright as far as I can tell, now."


    Alta chuckled and said, "Congratulations on survival. You''re much too lively to have respawned two days ago. Tell me, what''s your other combat training?"


    Couching a neutral face and preparing for yet another lecture he didn''t want to hear, Orison said, "Summoner, and alchemist is my craft, to save a little time."


    If anything, Alta''s smile became more radiant as she said, "If you f*** up my safe completion record, I''m going to p*ss on your corpse before it disappears. I don''t give a sh*t what your reasons are. It''s the only yearly bonus I can realistically qualify for and advancing in this field after gold earnings slow down is hard enough as it is."


    Orison adapted a saintly smile of his own and said, "If I can come a hair''s width away from killing a wasp grudge on my own with little more than a few days of summoner instruction, then not dying during yours should be a piece of f***ing cake. If I do, pray it isn''t your fault or I''ll make a point of dedicating a portion of my life to making yours a living hell."


    Projecting pure compassion, Alta said, "Alright, cocky blow hard. Do you want the kid glove tour of Fortune''s front steps or do you think you can swallow your ego long enough to do exactly what I say for a week and earn us both a little extra gold. Don''t say yes if you don''t actually mean it. You have a decent chance of dying if you don''t take it seriously."


    Orison broke facade first to say soberly, "I don''t care about a few extra coins. Will it let me understand artificer better?"


    Alta''s smile lowered in intensity to a more natural and genuine one, "It most definitely will and I really like that answer a lot more than a plain yes."


    Orison said plainly, "Prove your safe completion record is legitimately clean and it''s a yes."


    Alta nodded and said, "I think we''ll get along after all."

 67 Crystal Cage 5

    When Alta dragged him down into the bowels of Fortune for the ''alternate instructional period grounds'', Orison tried not to let his hopes get the best of him. Secret corridors and automatically reset traps that could kill the foolish and unwary were common and abundant but true to her word, as long as a person did exactly as she said, it became a cake walk. During the process of reaching their destination, the young mage got to see a mid range artificer in action.


    Orison already had a decent idea of why artificers had such a hard time keeping a foothold in a world that valued combat prowess over utility but he came to a realization on that two day underground dungeon crawl. Artificers were responsible for the current prosperity and comfort of Osomo but they had long ago ceased producing wonders that kept them relevant. Orison blamed that mostly on the training devices.


    The people of this world had grown lazy and indulgent in easy learning and swam like fish around the devices, awaiting the moment they qualified for a little more ''fish food'' instead of trying to tease things out for themselves. Ultimately, paths that were theory and resource heavy were either too difficult to master or not rewarding enough to pursue. Artificer was the absolute pinnacle of bad in those aspects. It''s little magic created constructs were meant for delicate work, not fighting.


    Everything of value had been stripped systematically from artificer and studied in detail by the Children to produce a steady but relatively stagnant supply of magic tech convenience. With little combat value and even less gold earning potential, it was doomed to continue fading into obscurity.


    It was pure irony in Orison''s mind, that both summoner and artificer had so much going against them as they were perceived, when both of them together were the foundation of the world itself. Whether by accident of design, much of what was needed to create actual artifacts had been removed from the artificer branch and the spacial/dimensional aspects had been removed from summoner. Despite this, the knowledge to fill in those gaps was hidden in plain sight within the transporters and the training devices themselves.


    Alta broke Orison out of his thoughts. "This set of double doors before you leads to one of the last remaining great constructs. During the golden age of Osomo, this fellow had taken the same dysfunctional path as you, starting out. He was a demented nut job but he was also a genius. More importantly to us, he was wealthy.


    "He predicted the decline of artificers and summoners, openly despised the training devices and was considered a heretic in the eyes of most of the known world. His views were so radically suppressed that even his name was stricken from history. It could also be because he was blamed for the removal of certain knowledge from the trainers.


    "How you want to view him or his works, I''ve done my part getting you here. Beyond these doors lies a series of challenges and how well you do will determine how much I get for bringing you here. If you can make it to the room of triangles, request to be transported out. I doubt you can actually solve it but if you do manage through sheer luck, what lies after that is death if you don''t actually understand the challenge from the room of triangles."


    Orison looked at her suspiciously as she walked to the doors and said, "Registered examiner Alta has brought student Orison for testing."


    An emotionless voice came from the door. "Acknowledged. Student Orison, please present mender drone construct for scanning."


    The young mage called on the starting artificer''s magic model that created a self propelling ball. Within the ball was a miniature toolbox complete with needle-like soldering pen and arc welder.


    "Ectoplasmic and etheric signatures registered. Please proceed to testing area one. Note, at anytime during testing, the process may be terminated by saying abort test. You may take the test only once every astral rotation, approximately every 361 years in Osomo''s locality," the door''s voice monotonously informed.


    Before Orison opened the door, Alta said, "There''s going to be a lot of nonsense terms thrown at you. I told you that the man was cracked but he''s also a genius. Try to get from this what you can. If, beyond all hope, you get to the room of triangles, I''ll personally hand-hold you through getting your second trip to the artificer trainer for ''power supply'' and ''power surge''. At least you''ll be able to use the little bug we get for something other than armor mending and sewing after that."


    Orison nodded at her and headed through the double doors. After passing through the laser looking scanner device, doors closed behind him and a plethora of menacing machinery tucked itself back into the sliding compartments they had unfolded themselves out of.


    Orison chuckled and thought to himself, "I feel sorry for the greedy folks who undoubtedly have tried to force themselves in here over the years. Being simultaneously burnt, electrocuted and subject to who knows what else would keep even the strongest would-be thieves out of here. There''s probably some closer to the top of the power charts who could get through but the damage to the capital above would be so immense that the merchants and powerful families'' own self preservation would stomp them flat before they had a chance... The man who built this truly was a genius."


    Any further contemplation was derailed by another monotone message. "Reconnect electrical distribution for the closed circuit panel on the theater table. Time limit is one hour."


    Orison stepped up to the worktable that raised from the opening on the floor. After a quick look, it was apparently a quick soldering job with the only quirk being to disconnect the plug on the right first. Worst case scenario would be a heart stopping electrocution but Orison doubted it had that much juice supplied to it. After unplugging and soldering the obvious break, the young mage scanned for any less obvious ones and found out that the more he looked the more fine and complex the malfunctions went. Keeping in mind the original request that only took about five minutes with the help of his little conjured magic toolbox, Orison went about solving the majority he could, giving himself a fifteen minute leeway.


    After plugging the supply back in, the monotone voice evaluated. "Main current stability, 87%. Sub-structure stability, 48%. Self repair function restoration 24% with less than 5% failure to initiate. Please follow floor arrows to testing room nine."


    Perfectionist that he was, Orison tried hard not to resent the poor evaluation on topics unrelated to the main test. To make himself feel better, Orison decided to see going to the ninth test room as ''skipping tests''. It dawned on him that he was a bit too petty for his own good but chose to focus on what was in front of him instead of dwelling on it.


    Once he had stepped into a thickly shielded room where he had to pass hand through gloves to access the circuit board on the other side and see what he was doing through a window, Orison heard the voice again. "This is a magic free and essence shielded room. Without using magic or external spiritual aids of any kind, please proceed to repair closed circuit panel. Time limit is two hours."


    Orison saw the same circuit board that he had been working on before but all the magic generated fixes had been stripped off, presenting him with the same ''exact'' board he''d been presented with when he first came in. On the table were an old fashioned soldering iron and arc welder rod with a few of the materials one would expect to get with them. The personal difficulty had raised exponentially by that fact but more of the delicate fixes would be easier due to it to. Precision responses from the mending drone to that degree would take months at a minimum.


    It took nearly twice as long to get as far as he had with the drone while free handing it but the smaller fixes were a great deal less sloppy. With a half hour left, Orison tackled even smaller fixes. With fifteen minutes left, he switched to the hair''s width tool that was even smaller than the one his drone had and continued with a magnifier lowered down over his viewing window. With hands getting a little too shaky, Orison ended his repairs two minutes remaining. A scowl was plastered to his face for not having the ability to fix everything that he could see as he plugged in the supply. With a small break and a little more time, there were at least seven more he felt confident enough to handle.


    The monotone voice evaluated once more. "Main current stability, 92%. Sub-structure stability, 74%. Self repair function restoration 57% with less than 3% failure to initiate."


    Orison was disappointed with himself. Even with the training device''s boost and his knowledge from a more advanced society that was built around gadgets far more complex, that was the extent of his ability to leverage that knowledge. Half convinced he''d failed, Orison followed the arrows to a room with a chair and nothing else. He looked around the room until the monotonous voice requested him to sit.


    After sitting down, nothing happened until he went to stand back up a couple minutes later. Something within the seat shifted enough to make a click. A panel opened up behind him, almost causing him to dive for a corner of the room until he saw that it was just a projector of some kind. It didn''t work. Orison got up and fixed the old device. After some trial and error, he finally got it back into the wall, reactivating it by flopping back into the chair.


    The lights in the room dimmed and a white haired old man with fuzzy features due to the slightly unfocused lens was projected onto the wall. "If you''re seeing this then either my worst prediction has come true or my predecessor has decided to keep using my construct as a teaching tool. Although I hope for the later, the prior haunts me as I see the shadow of my life grow longer. No tool, no matter how well made, will see the end of it''s time.


    "The A.I. has deemed that remedial tests have become too much of a burden on resources. When this place was made, a first time failure would lead hopefuls through a few presentations on materials and award a second chance as long as the original try resulted in a four percent or lower chance of failure to initialize. To pass, the rate would need to be less than two percent and even that bothers me but now circumstances require me to relax that guideline further. If you qualify for a second chance then you qualify to continue. I fear that your current standard might even be the best available in your current time. I don''t want to discourage what must have been great effort and perseverance in what I fear is a world that no longer appreciates it but please keep the hope alive."


    The monotonous voice cut over the old man''s voice to say, "You are the thirty-first person to view this recording."


    The old man continued, "If the artificial intelligence followed your number by a warning of failure to complete preparations for further testing, then go no further. Terminate the test and mourn the passing of my legacy without an inheritor. If no such message was given, then proceed to the next room or use whatever barbarism you must to open a hole in the wall to your left after you have counted to ten."


    Orison counted silently as the wall to his left raised to reveal torn metal and a jagged hole in the wall. With a growing sense of apprehension, Orison made his way through the hole. On the other side was a room completely encased in what looked like high impact glass with several dents and even a few cracks in it that only ran a quarter inch deep. On the other side of the glass sat triangular pieces that had sliding parts to three slots on the far side.


    A crackling recording of the old man''s voice said, "For the sake of future generations, perhaps the future of this world itself, don''t try to guess a correct answer if you don''t understand what''s being tested. Until this point it wouldn''t have mattered much but the small transporters in the construct have been deemed a luxury of power usage or no longer function safely. This test is to open the way to intermediate tests.


    "Without an understanding of what''s being presented, you would only be wasting the dwindling resources of this construct attempting to go further. As much as I value each and every one of you that enter this creation of mine, I will allow the A.I. to dispose of the testers who proceed further without heeding what I say in the most efficient way possible. If not in consideration of future hopefuls, I implore you not to proceed further for your own safety if you do not understand."


    Orison thought, "Some people who''d made it this far must not have liked that request much."


    The A.I.''s voice kicked back on, "Failure to initiate test room interface. Please use manual placement."


    Seeing no way to physically grab and slide the triangles and still feeling the shielding against magic, Orison muttered, "I take that back. Obviously the person thought that the only way they could move on was to bust their way to the triangles."


    Orison reasoned that couldn''t be the case or Alta wouldn''t have given the warning she did. Looking around again, the young mage saw a circular piece of stone above the hole he came through. Inspecting it closer, he saw that it could be pulled from the wall. It was also connected by a thin but strong cable with light scratch marks on it. Someone had tried to rip it off but failed miserably.


    As Orison moved it to the glass, a nearby triangle was pulled out of its recess slightly. After inspecting the triangles and the circular stone in his hand, Orison came to the humorous conclusion that the manual option worked off magnetism. With the problem on how to move the triangles solved, Orison inspected them.


    He muttered, "The diagram above the slots are easy enough to figure out. I need to find the three isometric triangles that make an equilateral one but what''s underneath? Upwards bar is above a sun, sideways bar is above a moon. Three triangles that make an equal triangle coinciding with a sun, a blank and a moon are on the door.


    "The triangles along the walls of the room have degree parts and they also bear one of the two bars or are blank. There is a line that passes through the door which lines up with... It''s friggin binary! Pythagorean theory and binary are on the door. Hahaha... The blank isn''t blank, its just that the bars are smaller and there are so many that it just looks irregular. On, open and then off...


    "So that''s what the warning was about. A person could figure that out without knowing what it means. There''s even a chance that they''d think they know what it means if they weren''t that bright. I walked into a damn Darwin trap."


    Once he had it down, it didn''t take much time to fit them in the door. With a click, a small stream of current ran through the triangle pieces, turning on the sliding part of the door, opening it and then shutting it off. The whole room rotated slowly as Orison moved with it until the bottom was facing the open door, giving Orison only one way to go.


    Upon stepping to the other side and seeing the levitating triangle, Orison withheld rising panic. With the failing parts of the giant construct apparent, it wasn''t difficult to see how the people who had made it to this point would fare if the floating device stopped working or was returned to the slit in this room''s wall. Out of curiosity, Orison tossed a piece of iron ore down into the pit below him. Just shy of five seconds later, he heard a din come from it. The space was just big enough to fit all the testing rooms he had already been through, back in.


    "Please begin testing. Estimated reserves remaining before testing cannot be completed, 65-64-63-62. Testing has begun," the merciless A.I. said, forcing Orison onto the levitating bit of metal to end the countdown.


    To make the floating platform move forward, Orison had to do some speed math while following the directions on the wall to keep the basic code work from sending the platform back. It would have been easy enough and there was even room for error but Orison didn''t dare to afford himself such a thing with a countdown clock going off every time he paused for more than a couple of seconds. After one simple mistake made him return two sections back, the countdown had reached into the teens before he made it up, plus some extra.


    By the time the floating platform slid its way into the slot on the other side of the pit hallway, Orison had earned himself almost three minutes of ''reserve power''. It felt paltry next to what he believed had been taken off his life from anxiety and stress. Opportunity or not, Orison deeply regretted his decision to continue past the triangle room but knew that he''d probably do it again if offered the chance. The young mage couldn''t remember a time when the current extreme duality that existed within him had been illustrated so clearly to himself.


    Taking a deep breath, Orison stepped into the next room and thought, "What fresh hell is this!?"

 68 Crystal Cage 6

    Before Orison lied a huge scrapyard. Back when this giant construct was first built, Orison had no doubt that this had been an empty room with little in it save some receptacles for whatever mechanical debris managed to make it here.


    "Due to emergency energy... Due to emergency resource protocols, please remove power cells from construct units and deposit them into the recycling chute. Estimating average cell residual charge... Please deposit 2312 cells into the recycling chute," the merciless A.I. politely demanded.


    Orison looked up at the ceiling and said, "I''m a portal gun away from calling shenanigans on you."


    He reasoned that it was just a bit of elbow grease and had never been afraid of a little hard labor. However, it became obvious after taking ten minutes to access the first cell out of the back of a small unit that without the ability to use his mending drone, due to the heavy magic shielding, it would take weeks or even months to complete the task.


    Continuing to work as he thought, Orison deposited his fifth cell into the shoot and didn''t hear the number go down. It was counted at the same number as the time before.


    Orison said, "A.I., there was an error in the counting. Please respond."


    The monotone voice said, "There was no error. Equipment in the facility needed to provide a safe and healthy environment for your race are consuming energy that is otherwise unused. These expenditures add to the total necessary cells."


    The young mage said, "A.I., lower additional environmental energy usage to minimum amount necessary to preserve life."


    The monotone voice replied, "Unable to comply. The student does not possess required clearance to override this setting."


    Out of desperation to work against deficit, Orison acquired three cells at once and brought them into his space. Brushing them against the crystal dust, the cells went from dead to dangerously charged. Orison brought them out with a caution against disqualification from the A.I. for using external assistance during testing. Attempting to reason with the machine that there was no test ongoing, the A.I. responded that he was in testing facilities and therefore fell under that regulation.


    With fingers crossed, Orison tossed the cells into the chute. The A. I. gave a miserable result based off of expected yield that had the young mage despairing he''d die from some form of deprived state before he could finish but trudged on in the meantime while thinking furiously about solutions to the conundrum. After two more cells, the voice gave him a tally of a little under 200 remaining. A machine came into the room and also started combing through the pile around where Orison had collected the cheat charged cells. Sadly, the cells being collected by the machine didn''t count for his total. It took nearly three days for Orison to finish the remainder.


    He was angry about it but he needed water and food provided by the facilities which cost him extra cells. Knowing that there were perfectly fine food and beverage in his space but not wanting to get his testing ''terminated'', he wasn''t left with much option. Since nothing stopped him from putting things into his space, Orison stole a few cells and a couple of the smaller machines in retribution for his slave labor.


    In the next room was a much larger and better decked out version of testing room nine. The largest difference aside from size was a bedroom and a metal hand indentation on the wall.


    The old man''s voice cut in again. "If you are hearing this message, it has been over an astral cycle since someone made it to this stage of testing or functionality of the facility has become insolvent. If so, I can only imagine the hardship you must have endured in the recycling room. Be that as it may, I fear I require you to aid in some maintenance. This will not go unrewarded whether you succeed in trials to come or no.


    "There are two ways that you can fill the quota A.I. will expect from you. Repair the parts presented in the theater or refill cells using the receiver on the wall. Do not attempt to actively push spiritual essence through the receiver. Allow it to passively absorb. If any leaks into the room, A.I. will sense it and terminate your test... Please do not attempt more than two cell charges in a day. Each charged cell represents a month''s worth of Chosen spiritual accumulation stimulated by your crystal spark.


    "If you begin to feel hurt or sick in a way that is difficult to put into words, immediately cease charging cells and finish quota through repairs. All I can say at this point is that whatever is asked of you, it will be rewarded adequately. I''m sorry but all this that I ask is so that the hopefuls who come after you will have a facilities capable of testing them."


    Orison rolled his eyes and walked up to the indentation in the wall, sticking his hand on it. It was a cold and wrong feeling to have something invade his spiritual seat without fighting it but Orison did not allow the seeking tendril to stay there. Using his space to reroute the tendril, Orison let it float in the dust ring.


    Every few minutes there was an update on how many cells were left to charge minus one. The first time that Orison heard to grand number of sixty needed to complete the task, black lines ran down his face. Out of morbid curiosity, Orison asked the monotone voice how many repairs would equal a charged cell and received an average of thirty to fifty logged repairs. After the fourteenth cell, Orison asked the droning voice to cease with the cautions about soul exhaustion with a bitter look on his face.


    All said and done, the total amount of crystal powder consumed to charge the cells equaled about a third of what he''d managed to reap from the grudge. A follow-up question the young mage had managed to get the A.I. to answer revealed that the total spiritual essence required was the equivalent of a respawn. If he had been anyone else, the requested amount would have taken a month to get safely and that could have only been halved, at best, with repair work. At least when he laid down to take a five hour sleep, he was provided food and water without additional payment being demanded.


    Once Orison was awakened by the pitiless voice, he stomped off to the next part, darkly daring this place to demand anything more from him in his head. He almost spit blood in anger when the next portion was essentially asking him to manually input packaged coding into repaired and reset machinery using a screen that was mercifully all but automated. He still ended up wasting nearly two days before the A.I. no longer required him to finish backlog.


    Behind him, Orison realized that the giant construct he''d been passing through began resembling a sleeping dragon slowly waking up. Each room he was passing through was less test and more one-man maintenance runs through the entirety of the construct. At some point, he''d left the testing zone completely and had began making rounds, fixing things and aiding machines in distribution to restore functionality.


    At first, Orison was on the verge of rage quitting when it occurred to him that he was still being examined but in a different way. He wasn''t just doing, he was learning and his crisscrossing was nothing less than apprenticeship in the most direct manner available to the dead man. With little hints and clues, he had managed to understand that whatever ''emergency protocols'' that were in place, it had deemed his unworthy self as a desperation selection but wasn''t going to spring the big news on him until he''d logged enough effort to guarantee that if he was found unsuitable in some other way, another might still be found.


    With only two days left on his instructor period, Orison was finally lead to a small room that locked him in as soon as he had walked through the scanning doorway. The old man''s crackly recording came on, thanking him for all the hard work the young mage had done and regretfully informed him that the main inheritance room nor the rest of the test could be made available due to Orison''s assured understanding of the system that governed the giant construct.


    Before he could go ballistic, the A.I. began speaking "Student Orison, the system is about to ask you a question. The answer to this question will determine what the nature of your compensation will be before you are transported out of Meta-construct three. Regardless of your answer, the examiner who has brought you will qualify for a best result compensation and so will you... Are you an outsider who is currently trapped in Osomo?"


    The young mage balanced to pros and cons rapidly in his head and with no small amount of anxiety said, "Yes."


    The room he was in moved rapidly in an occasionally jerky manner that made Orison''s heart drop until it came to a rough stop. The door opened but stuck in the halfway position before Orison gave a helping hand to finish opening it the rest of the way in a slight panic to get out of the makeshift elevator. The large and luxurious apartment he found himself in was heavily marred by the passing of time. The large bed had mostly sunk in with a pile of dust in its center which Orison tried not to focus on or think too much about.


    In the next moment, a feminine version of the A.I.''s voice with emotion and ''life'' in it said, "So much time has passed that the recording you are hearing is not the one I had originally hoped you would hear. Little remains in this world that I''d be familiar with and none who''d be familiar with me. I make this message knowing it is the one most likely to be heard but the one I least wished to be needed.


    "Since my name and small desires no longer matter, I won''t bother you with their trivial and meaningless weight. On the vanity to the far wall is a box with a modified crystal spark inside. It was made with the combined might of my father and myself. The sacrifices made to create it are as unimportant as time can make anything but use it to cleanse yourself of Osomo''s tether. It will take time to assimilate, more if you were caught unaware and completely changed to suit Osomo''s design.


    "I once knew a man who referred to himself as a climber. Under his tutelage I and another managed to create a key, if such a term has meaning to you. A great upheaval occurred which you will read about if such things interest you and, if not, is unimportant. The important part of this story is that the climber aided many of us to survive what happened and there is a possibility that one of his disciples may yet still live. If they carry the conduit of our master, then the spark will help you find them as the conduit was also used in its creation. My prayers to some unknown and more benevolent existence than the cold heart of our own be with you in finding the answers that you seek.


    "There are perhaps a few trinkets of value for funding your exploration and escape from this place laying around. Freely avail yourself. I and this place have no need of them. If you are a kind soul who would listen to a small request, take a portion of my remains that lay on my bed. Should you find yourself escaped from the madness of this prison, allow those remains to kiss a sky and ground not of this place as I, in life, no longer can achieve."


    Orison collected the box and stored it in his space. As soon as it was inside, the space ate the box. It was a conduit that contained secrets of preservation and warding. It wasn''t overly powerful and digested in less than the hour necessary for him to comb the rest of the rooms for valuables which gave him a few thousand gold and a full set of mid level mage gear well suited to summoners. The black and silver robes, hat and shoes carried a few enchantments that were probably unique in their ability to provide more efficient spiritual essence usage among other minor bonuses. The jewelry set, while somewhat feminine, carried too many resistance bonuses for him to turn his nose up at their unappealing design.


    Isolating the clean crystal spark so that his space wouldn''t do something regrettable with it while he wasn''t paying attention, Orison gathered up a handful of her dust remains to honor the lady''s only request. To keep from being too cavalier or accidentally having her remains mix with the crystal dust of his formation, the young mage put them in a velvet bag of no real use that was among his collection of slightly odd boundary crossing survivors.


    In the middle of the mattress was a miniature version of the training devices the size of a marble. A small trail of it''s rolling path over the centuries could be seen in the dust but it had been inevitably buried by them as well. Lifting it out, curiosity too strong, Orison activated it.


    There wasn''t a great deal of information inside but it did contain the lady''s research on a bridge model that would allow a summoner to use the mending drone in two unique ways. In the Titania version, the drone would turn into a set of fire and electricity mage equipment for a ''female fairy'' version of the summoner''s basic sprite. In the Oberon version, a ''male fairy'' would be able to equip a modified drone into a set of armor complete with ''letter opener great sword'' and shield.


    Locked up in these apartments to keep Osomo from reclaiming the crystal spark before it was done purifying, she had apparently been very bored. To keep herself from going stir crazy in her last few years of life, the lady had taken a story her master had told her of and used it as fuel for imagination to create the fanciful renditions of the basic summoner and artificer models taught to her by her father. Orison saw within the modified models and the magical bridgework, a genius of a different caliber. The melancholy woman had taken apart and put together the models so many times that they had turned into perfected art. The renditions they cast were even more efficient than their originals but possessed a vital life of their own not too differently than Enbarr had once been for Orison, perhaps more so since imitating the emotions of a human and a horse were on totally different levels.


    Oberon and Titania weren''t just admirable works of art and a little embarrassing vice. Orison was eager to incorporate them because they boasted substantial increases in damage output, in Titania''s case, and melee capability, in Oberon''s. They were a little heavier in spirit essence cost but they more than made up for that in capability, especially when it came to increasing the efficiency of reaping more essence.


    After his cell charging experience, Orison had the final piece as to why summoners went the way of obscurity before even artificers had. At least artificers could make up for loss of combat capability with utility. Summoner''s spirit essence usage slowed down growth by it fundamental nature, though not in any meaningful way unless the summoner was particularly active with their skills.


    Having sacked the lady''s room of anything worth taking and received benefits beyond his wildest hopes, Orison walked over to the transporter formation that took him from the apartments back to the double door room with all the militant machinery pointed at them. Once he crossed the scanned boundary, attempting to return would be an act of suicide. Not that he wanted to. As fruitful as the trip had been, Orison somewhat hated the place.


    A miserable Alta waited for him outside. For whatever reason, she had been unable to leave until he returned. Thankfully she had come prepared for a bit of a wait with food and a few days water. Until he had reached the portion of the journey through the great construct where he had access to food and water, she hadn''t had access either. Seeing her manic face that switched between a scowl and a foolish grin, Orison braced himself.


    The gnome said, "I''m not going to ask and I don''t want you to tell me. I''m somewhat dying to know but I have a feeling knowing WILL get me killed, so here''s the deal. You made it to the triangle room in record snail''s pace and then we went back. End of story... As long as that''s how you tell it, that''s how I tell it."


    Orison whispered to her, "What you really don''t want to know is how long it could have taken."


    Alta shuddered and said, "I''m just glad to see you get back here alive. Not so much for your sake, mind you. The pain was worth the gain and all that. I don''t hold a grudge, much, but if you had croaked in there... No need to focus on a bad what-if that isn''t. Please tell me you understand how dangerous what you did in there is. Not then but now. You''ve got to promise me you won''t breathe a word. It isn''t just your a** on the grill."


    Orison looked at her solemnly. "I do and I do. Let''s get the hell out of here."


    Alta kept their minds preoccupied with small talk about what restaurant she was going to and what celebratory feast she was going to order right after she bathed and had a short coma in her bed as she lead them back through the traps that surrounded the area.

 69 Crystal Cage 7

    The last day Orison spent with Alta was a fun romp through Fortune. After her lukewarm reception outside the great construct, the young mage thought that the gnome would be glad to see his rear view getting further away but underneath it all, Alta was a naturally friendly and fair-minded person. Needless to say, despite the truncated report, Alta had passed Orison with flying colors.


    It was with a bit of reluctance that he parted ways with the artificer instructor for his alchemy training in Sek. The feeling appeared to be mutual but Orison wondered how much of that was him specifically and how much was the lack of kindred spirit she was more likely to find in everyone else that came under her tutelage. Either way, the desert capital Sek wasn''t a place he looked forward on returning to.


    Stepping out of the transporter, Orison wasted no time getting to the inn to get a room even though it was still early and bright outside. For whatever reason, the closer it got to evening, the more expensive the rooms became and the more empty the streets got. The trainer devices here might give the name adventurer and striker titles to what they taught but the locals and a good portion of the world had different names for those who specialized in their skills, thieves and assassins.


    If he wasn''t scheduled to be here these two weeks as contact and backup for Duran, after all he''d been through in the past near month, Orison would have ditched the alchemist certification. After all, he had no intentions on selling anything he made but didn''t see the harm in having the ability to. And when it came to alchemy that was much an art as it was a skill, getting some pointers from a seasoned professional was never a waste of time unless that professional was a jacka**.


    Sadly, the current instructor''s reputation was so sour that even Alta talked about it with a frown. Combat instructors and trade instructors rarely mingled but artificers ran in both circles. And though they weren''t particularly respected by either, her one run in with the alchemy instructor had been unpleasant enough to stand in his own league of dislike.


    After signing up with the instructor''s assistant, the first he had heard of an instructor having one, Orison went to the government building. In all but Thoth, instructor complaints were a part of public records and Orison wanted to see what he should expect. After his fey blood awakening, the young mage ran a little extra hot under the collar when something struck him wrong and hadn''t quite gotten a handle on it. He wanted to make sure that his mouth wouldn''t ''write a check his a** couldn''t cash'' and arrogant snobs were a sore spot for both sides of his inherited personalities.


    Enlisting the help of a sweet but shifty eyed beast-kin archivist for a couple of gold, Orison sifted through the instructor records over the last couple of years that Emir Ghanem had been teaching. There were nothing but glowing reviews. For a second, the young mage wondered if the poor guy was just stuffy and anti-social but then it occurred to him, there should be something. These records were too clean. Too clean meant lies and cover-ups. Lies and cover-ups meant power. In this world there were only three kinds of sustainable power due to Chosen being rather fairly distributed and being rather short lasting at their peak; large mercenary guilds, Royal families and key merchant organizations.


    Large mercenary guilds didn''t cater much to an individual''s vices. Reputation was too important. They might cover up one or two things for a valued member but would wipe someone''s butt for too long before finding someone more suitable. That applied to merchant organizations too but money could buy a lot of silence. Due to the instructor''s last name and Sek being a place where the royal family''s hold on the populace was more of an indulgence rather than a fact, they could be ruled out as well.


    Upon seeing the file Orison was bent over intently, the mousy archivist said timidly, "Oh no! Don''t do anything rash Mr. Cantrip. The Ghanem family are rich and powerful. You couldn''t even buy a healing potion much less make one without their approval. You seem like a nice kid. Just sign the registry to sell through his family and get your certificate."


    Orison''s eyebrows shot up. "You can''t even get through the instructor period without contracting through his family?"


    In hushed tones, the archivist replied, "Of course I''m not saying that. It''s ju-"


    Her ears perked up and she darted off without saying another word.


    Footsteps came around the corner revealing a late thirties man with a permanent smirk smeared on his face. "Orison Cantrip, completed summoner''s training with an oddly seconded seal of approval from Moskvander the druid instructor. You were accommodated for bringing to light an environmental issue with summoner training. Did you know? Such things tend to take time to reach active Chosen."


    Putting on his most benevolent smile, Orison said, "And who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"


    The well dressed man in decked in latest Sek desert fashion sat down across from Orison and said, "Why, the man whose history you are snooping on."


    The young mage maintained his saintly expression. "Snooping is such an ugly word for what any conscientious Chosen just beginning their journey SHOULD do."


    "Quite right. And how have my qualifications stacked against you expectations of an alchemist instructor?" Emir asked.


    Orison nodded thoughtfully. "Too clean. A good fabricated record should show a few minor dings to it. It comes off as either belonging to a ruthless but powerful criminal or a boring and lifeless individual. You don''t seem boring and lifeless."


    The Sek aristocrat raised an eyebrow. "If you think that I''m a ruthless but powerful criminal, why would you intentionally antagonize me? That seems fatally lacking in wisdom."


    Orison replied, "You have a reputation as a blunt snob. If anyone could appreciate candidness, surely it would be one who exercises it. If you prefer I join your army of a** kissers that you despise then so be it."


    "Being lost in a sea of irritating sand is better than being a pebble in my slipper. Both are under my feet but only one gets my attention. Is that what you want, little boy, to be a pebble in my slipper?" Emir''s smirking poker face never wavered.


    "I''m not nearly that bored. What I do want is something you may be able to supply, however. For you to be here less than two hours after I signed up for classes and researched you... An impressive intelligence network. Does it run that well outside of Sek?" the young mage asked.


    Emir sighed, "Answers are not something you can afford from me."


    Orison stood up with a regretful look on his face, ignoring the three other life signatures hiding around him, "A pity that. Still, I should show some appreciation for you coming all the way here to let me know not to waste two weeks spent on more lucrative endeavors."


    Orison released a modified teleportation circle his sub mind built in his space using Sek''s plaza transporter as the beacon. In front of Emir''s surprised face, Orison disappeared in a flash of cylindrical light beams. Of all the things that the young mage had picked up from the great construct, the adaptation for beacon assisted teleport was his personal favorite. And with the untainted crystal as reference, Orison was starting to unravel the security on the devices themselves. For the time being it was only not having to pay as long as he used his own energy to cast but many opportunities awaited once the process was done.


    The young mage took a moment to pop the inflation of his own ego. If not for the sub-mind, his own personal ability wouldn''t just be halved. It''s existence didn''t make him smarter directly in any meaningful way but it made analysis and other purely logic driven functions exponentially faster. In a way that he couldn''t even follow, the spiritual sub mind was stimulating his own mind to be more efficient and possess greater recall as well, though it was only as guide. A heavy amount of miasma was still sloshing in the back of his space somewhere, waiting to fill the gaps his body was producing in minute ways every day.


    As soon as the light faded to reveal plaza, Orison slapped feet on road to get back to the inn. After looking around and not seeing Duran back yet, Orison ordered an early supper and waited for his companion to return. When his plate was empty, building anxiety got the best of him and after asking around the inn, the young mage took off to go fetch the boy.


    Close to the outskirts of the city, Orison ran into Duran. On most days, the young mage and the boy looked around the same age but on that day, Duran could have passed for mid twenties and Orison highly doubted one day at the mine could do that. With the resolve to have a talk afterwards, Orison got the boy something to eat and then let him clean up before striking up a conversation.


    Orison said, "You couldn''t look more worn out if you wanted to. Is something wrong?"


    Duran was about to shake his head when Orison narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Yes?"


    The young mage sighed. "Have you been sleeping well?"


    Duran shook his head so Orison asked, "Do you know what''s keeping you from sleeping well? Please don''t just give me a one word response. I get that you don''t really like talking much but I''m trying to understand what the problem is. Imagine how hard it would be for a healer to figure out how to treat someone if they had to go through a long list of yes and no answers."


    Duran was silent for awhile but Orison didn''t push. Getting Duran to talk was like pulling teeth but it became three times harder if the boy started getting anxious. It wasn''t the best plan but seeing Duran''s state, if it would help the boy open up some, Orison resolved to get a little watered wine into him. Worse case, Duran might not talk but he might be able to sleep long enough to recover some.


    Orison almost laughed when Duran saw him pouring a bit of water into a wine glass and said, "Gan tried that. It tastes bad."


    Dubiously Orison asked, "I don''t want you thinking this is a good way to do things but you need something to help loosen up or barring that, sleep uninterrupted. If I let you drink it without water, is that alright?"


    Duran slowly nodded once which was his private language for ''not really but I''ll do it anyway''. Scrapping that, Orison let him try beer and a couple of other softer alcohols. In some ways, the young mage was glad Duran didn''t have a taste for alcohol and didn''t seem likely to acquire one. In this instance it was just annoying and if the boy just talked a little more he could have saved a lot of effort. A few tries later and Orison bought two shots of anise liquor which Duran took like cough syrup, a little trick that Medea had figured out ages ago but no one knew until Duran finally told him that night.


    After the tenseness drained a little from Duran, Orison prompted him again. "We only slept alone when we were punished... I wake up a little and when I reach for someone... I remember the pain or other things. After that, I can''t sleep anymore."


    It took a lot of coaxing and a couple of times Orison had to backtrack to get the truth when he encouraged a little too much, accidentally leading Duran into agreeing to things that weren''t exactly right. What had prompted the relapse of panic attacks that Medea had managed to lay to rest was Gan''s fault but not in any way that could actually be blamed on the poor scout. Their Northland companion simply wasn''t equipped with the understanding of abuse and its aftereffects like Rithus or the long years of acquired wisdom that Medea possessed. Orison wished he could pull Avenar back from oblivion to burn his soul out all over again.


    Jiraya, having come from a somewhat saner master, taught the children to comfort each other with platonic affection and what the difference was between what Avanar and the sick elf''s friends did to them and what the Bastet showed them. There was no real way to escape their situation but they could at least silently cry while holding each other and not fear that one of the other children would do to them what the adults did. It was their only lifeline to sanity and the only comfort they were afforded at the time.


    Once Avenar found out about it, he turned it into yet another way to hurt, reward and mold the children. If they displeased him, he''d lock them away in a shed by themselves. If they were obedient, the elf would allow them to sleep together in a small room, occasionally having them blur the lines between what Jiraya taught them and what he wanted them to do. To earn further compliance and malleability from his guards and children alike, he''d even blur the line between punishment and reward by giving a child to a guard for a night but afterwards the rewarded guard was instructed to pamper and earn the affection of the child they were given to predate on.


    Duran may have resisted the dark impulses and came out the other side relatively whole but all of the confusion, fear and pain were still in there. The boy was so twisted up inside that he didn''t know what he even needed much less wanted. Medea gave him a focus and goal to his life, helped him define his own moral compass. For the short time he was with Rithus, the ex-Marshlander reinforced what platonic affection between men was generally acceptable and gave the boy privacy to work out the ''dark itch'' Duran considered his growing libido without shame or comment of any kind.


    Gan was a different story. On the first night that they had shared a room, Duran had woken in the middle of the night groping around for a warm body to assure his half asleep self that he wasn''t in the ''punishment room''. Gan was a light sleeper himself and asked Duran what was wrong. Not a good communicator, Duran just responded with the simple truth that he didn''t sleep well alone. In Gan''s mind, that wasn''t a statement but a request and said it was alright for Duran to crawl in bed with him.


    Although it was strange for a fourteen year old, much less one in a young adult body to sleep with another adult, Gan was just trying to accommodate the boy''s ''request'' without overthinking it. Duran didn''t want to upset Gan by rejecting the scout''s kindly made offer. It did help Duran get back to sleep but also cracked open doors to bad memories.


    The next morning, Gan woke up to Duran curled up into a ball, crying silently.


    Unaware that the reason was related to himself due to accidental contact with ''morning Gan'', the bewildered scout rubbed the boy''s back until Duran stopped crying. The next evening, close to bedtime, Duran informed Gan that he needed to take care of his itch.


    Confused, Gan said to help himself without leaving the room. Duran attempted to poorly clarify by saying that Rithus asked Duran to let him know first. Gan humorously asked Duran if the boy scratched loud or something and Duran shook his head. Gan shrugged and told Duran to scratch an itch whenever he wanted. Needless to say, things got awkward and even more confusing to both of them but Gan tried to make light of the confusion and went to bed after giving Duran some privacy. Waking up in the middle of the night to Duran crawling in bed with him was a little too much for Gan after the incident, however, and things devolved from there.


    To end the issue, Gan let Duran keep the room and spent the rest of his nights at his instruction site. After checking in on Duran a couple of times and seeing that the boy had become an insomniac, Gan had tried the watered wine trick to help the boy sleep. After that, Duran was deep into his healer instructions and the mage who ran it cast sleep on him a couple of times to get the boy through the training but told Duran to follow up with a professional. Without any idea of what that meant and not wanting to open up a conversation with a stranger, Duran had simply tolerated until meeting up with Orison.


    The young mage sighed and said, "Well, it''s too late at night to do anything about it now. We''ll go back to Auma and see a healer tomorrow. You can sleep with me tonight but it''s only for tonight... What happened to you wasn''t your fault. That makes your troubles because of it not your fault. That''s what I believe and I hope you do too."


    Duran''s slow, jerky nod did nothing to alleviate Orison''s worries. Worse, behind the worry was guilt. Guilt for forcing maturity on a boy who could have used that buffer to adulthood. Guilt for starting to resent all that he had invested into and sacrificed for the boy.


    Dreading the answer but needing to know, Orison asked, "I have two more questions for you and then we sleep. Did you understand the explanation for everything in the note? Do you regret taking me up on my offer?"

 70 Crystal Cage 8

    Orison sat awake on the other bed in the room. His talk with Duran through a good portion of the night had lasted til close to fourth bell but after around four hours of sleep he was fully awake and refreshed. Determined to let the boy rest for as long as Duran could, Orison ordered breakfast and contemplated the derailed conversation that had started with his two simple questions.


    As they laid in Orison''s bed and stared at the ceiling, it had taken Duren hours to mostly express himself but he did have regrets. It wasn''t so much that the boy wasn''t appreciative, he was. If anything, Orison was kind of worried that the lion''s share of the reason Duran had relapsed so extremely was due to the pressure he put on himself living up to what he perceived Orison''s expectations to be. In all the ways Medea had helped Duran, the old woman had impressed a little too strongly the debt she thought the boy owed him.


    At the time that Orison had helped Duran become a climber, it had been done with a clear heart and mind. What it had ultimately ended up costing him, had driven a dark thorn into those feelings of altruism. Medea''s enthusiasm in securing Duran as a loyal follower had managed to push the scales in Orison''s heart to favor guilt over resentment. It wouldn''t have surprised the young mage if the wily old bat had anticipated some of Duran''s complication causing issues and done it with that purpose in mind. She was an incredibly insightful woman.


    When Medea came up, Orison brought out all the questions he had been meaning to ask but wanted to wait until time and distance had dulled things a bit. It turned out that the old woman had all but killed herself. Duran and Medea had reached Widow''s Weal with little issue but the old woman wasn''t content to just spin wheels over winter and had started helping out the village healer. When it came to her folksy medicine she was a bit of a quack but even the healer had admitted that Medea was more capable when it came to midwife work. It was that work which had ultimately lead to her death.


    When Orison had left Medea at Obsidian Island, he didn''t have much worry that she''d not be able to make the trip. No matter how healthy she started, exhaustion, cold weather and a touch of flu was a recipe for disaster in the elderly. After a difficult delivery had kept her out late into the night, tired and a little sweaty, she''d insisted on returning to the inn room with Duran. The next day she had stayed in bed and by the end of that day the healer had diagnosed her with ''wet lung''. Though the mundane healer had tried everything they could, Medea didn''t get better.


    Once asked about the supplies that he had left with Duran for such an emergency, the boy grew silent again before admitting that he''d not entirely listened to Orison''s instructions. He had handed them over to Medea to manage. Holding such powerful healing in her hand, the old woman had judiciously administered it in her travels with the intentions of holding an accounting of them with Orison after they met back up. As much as he wanted to rant about it, Orison knew all too well how hard it was to ignore those in need when you could help. As far as the young mage was concerned, it was the old woman''s call to make and respected her sacrifice.


    Late into the night of her first day being bedridden, Medea must have sensed the shadow of death because she had a long talk with Duran, preparing him for the worst and letting him know what she wanted if she passed. As was obsidian elf custom, Duran had her cremated and slowly started going a little off the rails until the early thaw. Despite warnings not to, Duran had attempted the pass and got caught in the following blizzard.


    Somehow Wick, the tree inside of him, managed to keep him going but Duran had pulled too much of his potential out in the process, turning the world against him. The young mage wondered what the core nature of Duran''s key was that had threatened the world so badly but he couldn''t quite answer that question even about himself and had no hope of Duran being able to explain. Thinking of what little of Duran''s mysteries as he knew didn''t hep him overly much beyond having a vague idea but it did get Orison thinking about Wick.


    The young mage pointed out to Duran that the boy was never truly alone. Wick was with him. The revelation seemed to take Duran a great deal more by surprise than Orison thought it warranted. As much as the boy and tree communicated on a spiritual level, Duran had never closed the gap in seeing Wick as anything other than a tree for all that it was obviously much more. After a few hazy ripples of weak spiritual energy bounced off Orison as Duran clumsily communed with the tree, a huge weight lifted off Duran and all Orison could get out of the boy before Duran passed out was the first wide and carefree smile the young mage had ever seen on the boy.


    ***


    While enjoying his breakfast, Orison noticed that two hidden and an overtly suspicious person were slowly getting closer to him. He sighed inwardly. The young mage knew that sticking around in Sek after spooking Emir would bring him problems but he didn''t think the alchemy instructor would be so bold as to send assassins into the inn first thing in the morning. After scribbling an ''I see you'' note on a napkin and driving a fork through it into the table, Orison left an extra gold tip and quickly made his way back to the room while trying to project confidence and lack of worry he was very much feeling.


    Snatching their packs, Orison woke Duran up and told him to get ready as quickly as possible. While the boy scrambled to gear up, Orison had been constructing the beacon teleport model in his space. As soon as the young mage sensed the first life signature sliding close to them behind a false faced wall, he pulled out the only other piece of equipment he''d found in the lady''s apartments. The simple sword with decent boosts to strength and defense on it didn''t exactly slide through fake limestone drywall and the spine of an assassin via stomach like butter but it got the job done.


    Handing the bloody tipped blade to Duran, Orison summoned a sprite to finish the job and steal all the assassin''s inventory. Before the young mage could determine the fate of the assassin''s crystal spark, the purified crystal spark from the great construct made quick work of locking it in place and started eroding models from it. With two brighter life signatures closing in on the room, Orison put a hand on Duran''s shoulder and teleported to the Sek transporter. Not wasting a second, he paid for the two of them and flashed away to Auma.


    The young mage turned to Duran and said, "Sek is off limits for awhile. Sorry about your mining instruction period but I have a spot of good news. Out of all the trainings to skip on, gathering ones are the least problematic."


    The boy shrugged.


    "Do you still think you''ll have trouble sleeping? We can see a healer and take a few days before we go to your guardian instructor." Orison said.


    Duran shook his head but right before Orison suggested they get the training over with, the boy said, "Warn them?"


    Orison almost said it wasn''t necessary but he didn''t really know how good Emir''s network was or how far the alchemist instructor was willing to go. After finding a secluded corner, Orison changed into the outfit from the lady''s apartments and donned the mask. After using his drone to make some cosmetic changes to Duran''s outfit and handing the boy a cloak from his growing pile of mundane garbage, the young mage was ready to go find Gan and Rithus.


    Several mercifully free teleports to outlier villages and most of a day gone, Orison hadn''t manage to run into either of them but had left messages at each of their instructors'' offices. He could have found them if he wanted but trudging around the plains of Thoth would be a huge waste of time. Knowing that out there somewhere Rithus was probably placidly picking wild cotton during breaks in his elementalist instruction filled him with a guilty sense of horrified ironic humor. It outright tickled him that Gan was out there following behind a mercenary group dismantling their kills when the scout would much rather be killing things with them.


    With little of importance to worry about until one or the other returned and got his note, Orison dragged Duran to go see Mylar. When he walked into the instructor''s classroom, the young mage noticed a few big changes. Everything was clean and there were a handful of young and old Children in vigorous discussion as Mylar jotted down notes at his desk. Upon seeing the surprise visitors, conversation died and Mylar immediately looked worried before hearing the familiar voice greeting him from behind the mask.


    The middle-aged elementalist said, "What brings you back so soon Mr. Cantrip? No matter how fast you meet the other prerequisites, it''s not possible to use a trainer any faster than once a month."


    Orison huffed expressively, "The alchemist instructor is an absolute piece of garbage and even sent an assassin after me for just looking at his record. I was back in this gray waste to give a heads up to my other friends. Since it was so close to end of business day, I thought I''d drop in and see how you were doing. Is there any advice you could give me on it? I''ll throw in a meal and some drinks if you''ve got the time."


    Mylar frown contemplatively, "He''s known to have quite the ego and there''s been little anyone can do about his Sek sanctioned hoarding of Chosen alchemists. But assassination over a little spat with a new Chosen, it wouldn''t be worth it."


    Orison shook his head, "Who knows why irrationally self-important people actually do what they do."


    "If you''re looking for a person with connections to help you solve problems with Emir or looking for an alternate route to obtaining certification for alchemy, you''d be better off going to Daub. Mo rubs elbows with retired Chosen all the time and the Children ran alchemy association there can certify you if you''re capable of demonstrating your skills with their equipment," Mylar offered.


    The young mage chuckled, "How much is a good dinner and a decent bottle of whatever you prefer run?"


    Under whatever stimulus Mylar''s imagination was creating the older gentleman swallowed a mouthful of saliva and said, "A little out of the way spot here I treat myself to on special occasions will hit my account around ten gold."


    Orison held the back of his wrist out in the customary transfer signal. Once Mylar mimicked him, Orison transferred 100. "Take your new friends and their students with you. A good meal and drinks taste better when you have company and I''m apparently going to Daub."


    Unfortunately for the dirt poor elementalist, the two old men had been eavesdropping the whole time and weren''t likely to let him slide on the offered treat. As Orison walked away with his companion in tow he came to realize that without his companions, the ''taste'' of his misadventures in this crystal cage would be quite bitter indeed. A good deal of his courage and ability to endure the challenges he faced were directly related to their presence. When the time came for them to part ways, however long or short that might be, the young mage wondered how he''d deal with it.


    Two more flashes of light later and Orison made his way to Daub''s second best inn. After getting the yawning Duran squared away in the luxurious tree house next to the archer''s courtyard, the young mage went to see Mo at his personal home not too far past the edges of the druid beginner zone. Opening the door after an erratic knock, Mo looked pleasantly surprised to see Orison. His sensitivity to life patterns made mundane disguises like a mask worthless.


    Inviting him in, the druid instructor said, "Did you possibly come by to see how your ranger hopeful friend took to my course?"


    Taking off his mask, Orison said, "I wish it was for something that pleasant. I''m certainly interested in hearing if anything funny happened. I could use a little humor to lighten my mood."


    Mo offered a seat and asked for details. For his part, Orison relayed his unpleasant exchange with Emir and the next morning assassin issue.


    The druid looked at Orison in horror and said, "That could have been a striker trainee in that wall! It might be an uncomfortable fact but adventurers and strikers have need of some fairly unsavory practices to learn and advance their beginning skills and abilities. It''s mostly harmless."


    Orison frowned and looked through the assassin''s belongings. They weren''t the possessions of a beginner, not even a rich one. Sifting through, Orison managed to find the most damning piece of evidence. It was a letter requesting the young mage''s abduction and promise of payment was too high to just be a casual request. He had no doubts that the penmanship wouldn''t match Emir''s even if the alchemist instructor was the one behind it and there was no one else the young mage could think of that would have just cause or motivation.


    Mo frowned after he finished reading through it. "I can bring this to a few people''s attention. It will keep you from being charged with murder at least. That''s assuming the life signature on the curse seal matches the one who died. Not a bright one to be physically carrying it instead of storing it in their inventory but some people are superstitious about putting cursed items in there."


    Orison asked, "Why the curse seal?"


    Mo said, "It''s a long and ugly story but the short version is it''s a way to keep strikers who take up such criminal activities from blackmailing the requester or selling them out to the intended victim."


    "Is there any way for your contacts to give Emir trouble? What would it take to get enough voices that matter to get him and his family ousted from being able to be instructors?" the young mage asked.


    The druid thought about it and said, "In truth, the Ghanem family and their associated business dealings have traditionally been ran well and knew where the line was, so to speak. They don''t disrupt the channels that matter and that''s all the powerful care about. If you''re asking them to step into common affairs, they''ll need some reason and that reason means benefits. If, I might be direct, that kind of benefits we''re talking about are well above the worth of what you want."


    Orison said, "I''m a petty and spiteful person. I put a high price tag on revenge... How about this? I know that Fortune is currently experiencing an energy decline in its surrounding area. Would giving these people insider information on how low it will get and for how long before it recovers be enough to get them to exercise some moral outrage?"


    Mo looked at Orison oddly before he said, "That would require verification and evidence to be considered of value to most. Aside from directly bringing you to their attention, which wouldn''t be a good thing for you, how could you provide it?"


    The young mage went through what he could remember of the projected values of ''available environmental saturation'' he had seen in the core of the construct while he was repairing things in there and wrote down what he could remember.


    Orison handed the sheet to Mo and said, "People can lie but numbers don''t. In about a week Fortune won''t be able to hide the phenomenon from the public anymore. I don''t know how these numbers will correlate with whatever equipment will be used but they''ll consistently pace with them. In a little over a month, the deprivation will reach a level where transporter services will be disrupted but it will only last for around a couple of days. After that, the energy level will slowly start rising again and be somewhere just slightly lower than it is now about three weeks after that."


    Mo looked over the sheet and said, "You know if your name gets attached to this you''ll have much greater problems than a rich scion wanting to hunt you down." Orison smiled benevolently at the druid and replied, "That''s why I''m filtering it to them through you. What''s a small secret like this in comparison to the larger one we''ve already shared."


    The druid laughed. "No need for subtle threats of mutual destruction. I just can''t promise that there won''t be ''some'' interest and I need a little help in figuring out where to direct it."


    Orison shook his head. "There''s no need to redirect it elsewhere. That information came from the great construct under Fortune where I failed at the triangle room just like others who came before me but unlike those, I shared my concerns for the decline of artificers and also shared my concern for the state of Thoth. The artificial intelligence had a response to that and wanted to remind the royalty of Fortune the agreement their ancestors had with the creator of the testing construct.


    "Maybe someone will have questions for me but so what? I don''t have any more information to share outside of the construct possibly relaxing guidelines for choosing a new successor but why would that matter to me? I''ve already been disqualified."


    Mo said, "I have a truth stone and a crystal recorder. Let''s get this down as best we can to conceal what you don''t want known and present you in the most ignorant way possible. It''s fair to get a little something out of it, though. How about another discovery accommodation?"


    Orison gave a genuine smile and said, "Works for me. I''ll keep the lid on it until your buddies have milked it for all it''s worth of course."


    After Mo finished expressing his delight in working with such a bright young man they formulated an ''interrogation'' that expressed exactly what they wanted the world to see Orison as, a slightly exceptional and lucky individual whose heart was bigger than his common sense.

 71 Crystal Cage 9

    It took two days for Duran to recover from the effects insomnia and high levels of physical stress put his body through. Had the boy been an average human, he would have been in a life threatening state. That would have been true for Duran as well had it taken longer to find out that Wick could fill whatever psychological queue the boy needed to sleep properly.


    Orison didn''t mind much because that''s how long it took for him to earn a certificate through the Daub Alchemist Association. Manual potion creating couldn''t compare to the speed and efficiency of crystal granted synthesis but the young mage saw the same reliance trap in it that much of Osomo''s convenience mechanisms contained. He considered the preservation and effect consistency that synthesized potions had to be evidence it was intentional.


    The young mage had hoped to find a like minded friend among the alchemists but almost all of them were closed ranks against the Chosen interloper. If it wasn''t for the hefty 200 gold examination fee Chosen had to pay to be certified through them, it was quite possible he''d have been barred from entry entirely. Although they never warmed up to him, Orison did manage to raise their esteem to polite ambivalence by the time he left with certificate registered.


    Orison could understand their feelings towards the Chosen. Alchemy was hard and Chosen alchemists were dirty cheaters who didn''t really understand anything outside of form. The function, understanding and artistry were lost in translation of the trainer.


    In the background, Mo''s contacts had already solved a huge problem that Orison should have seen coming but didn''t really think about due to being preoccupied. Sek authorities had came with an arrest warrant for the young mage. The charge was involuntary manslaughter and the would be abductor had his identity changed to a third year Chosen who had taken up striker training for the purpose of qualifying for a specialist training. Once the Daub militia had presented the abduction contract and started asking questions in return, the Sek authorities quickly retreated with a promise to ''look into the oversight'' their shoddy detective work had been exposed to be.


    Meeting back up in Auma, the four gathered together at the end and shared all their stories of what happened over the time that they had been separated. As expected, for the most part nothing was out of the ordinary as far as instruction went. On a personal level, they each had a few new details to share.


    Following Orison''s advice, Gan and Rithus had spent some time experimenting and learning about their keys and conduits. Rithus had discovered that even when he loaned out his craft bag to someone else, he still had it at the same time but couldn''t loan it to more than one person. Gan found out his conduit could turn into anything it touched and if it stayed in that form for a certain period of time, depending on complexity, it could ''remember'' that form.


    Figuring out keys was a tricky matter. It was dangerous to have someone else''s help directly and even listening too long on how another key worked could fill a holder with a sense of danger and wrongness. Keys and conduits were almost the polar opposite of one another. As far as the four could puzzle things over, conduits were meant to be used by others and would enrich the creator for doing so but keys were personal and the more they were discussed or compared the worse it felt.


    For every little bit they figured out, however, the more previous notions were challenged. Orison only got the discussing keys ''bad feeling'' when he talked about his quasi-spiritual blood which he almost knew nothing about. It seemed his space and crystal formation were like secondary symbiotic keys that benefited each other and were treated like conduits by the force behind the blue motes in his body.


    Rithus'' shadow was his key and other than providing insights and having hoarder instincts towards random things, nothing else could be discovered. Somehow the shadow had altered Rithus'' craft bag conduit into some kind of collection tool that always remained even if its main form was sent off with someone. The only other thing of note was that Rithus'' physical form didn''t seem to be as set or stable and because of that, more malleable to adaptation between worlds. The ex-Marshlander''s cavalier attitude to his form and appearance besides his tail baffled Gan, who was secretly vain, a negative trait that Orison identified with.


    Gan''s key resisted discovery and definition. He''d blank or suddenly become hard of hearing during their key discussion which signified that his key had the best automated self defense mechanism out of the four. It did become clear that his map was a projection of an ability granted by his key rather than being the key itself as they had originally thought. And though it was subtle at the moment, Gan''s existence was becoming more defined despite not showing any signs of essence intake. Whatever fueled Gan''s ''climb'', it defied explanation almost as thoroughly as his key.


    Duran called his key Black Dot. He was safe from the bad feeling because he couldn''t describe his key, although he did admit to understanding it somewhat. He may not be able to describe but with spirit sight, Orison could get the gist of it''s way of fueling Duran''s climb. The boy constantly took in minute amounts of matter and essence that were around him. Through a complex cycle that lead through areas Orison couldn''t see and even Wick, what Duran took in was divided and the unusable parts were released while the rest went on to create even more complex cycles within.


    The last part of their ''climber'' session dealt with what they needed to get ''more real''. By this point, Orison and Rithus had realized that climbing was more than just getting stronger, it was also becoming ''more real''. When Lily had thrown the Tier system at him it had confused Orison on what the difference between a climber''s steps and a tier of existence was and why Lily had subtly implied importance of step over tier. Raising in tier could let you go from a lower dimension to a higher one and you could do that by exceeding the limits of a previous tier''s power. Neither Orison or Rithus had even the slightest clue what reaching a threshold of steps actually did but there was a feeling that thresholds existed and they felt far more important than getting more powerful.


    The conversation got weird for awhile as everyone had to kind of meditate on what their keys instinctively pushed them towards but once the feeling was caught, no one in the group would ever have to doubt what they needed again. All they''d need to do is focus on that feeling and it would be clear no matter how confused a person became. That last revelation was helpful for talking to Gan whose key was kind of a reclusive jerk about being scrutinized in any way.


    Orison''s need was ''process''. Every step he made would be made a little differently each time. With spiritual essence as fuel, Orison would concoct a ''step'' through metaphysical alchemy. It sounded hard and confusing but at it''s most basic level, it was cooking but with things like experience, esoteric knowledge and boundary items as ingredients. His need could be much simpler but he refused to go down the path of soul devouring monster. Amassing a mountain of eternium to do nothing more than burn it waking up the fey blood was no less monstrous, at least for now.


    Gan''s need was ''satisfaction''. That didn''t mean he could drink, fight and f*** his way to greater glory because it was a deeper satisfaction that was needed. A job well done or a good nights rest after a hard day could each provide a small amount of this satisfaction. For a complex or inherently negative person, Gan''s method of climbing would be nearly impossible.


    Rithus expressed that his need was ''being helpful''. After saying that, he didn''t meet anyone''s eyes. Orison could sympathize. ''Process'' had been somewhat of a cop out as well. As kind and generous in spirit as Rithus was, when something struck his fancy, he became greedy for it until he lost interest. Fortunately, these small bouts of mania were things that Rithus easily controlled, indulging when it was harmless to do so and abstaining when indulgence would be harmful. Whatever Rithus'' need actually was, being helpful to people who appreciated it was likely more tied to the ''fuel'' for climbing.


    In a half humorous and half horrified revelation, Orison thought that maybe Rithus hadn''t been nearly as oblivious as everyone thought he was about the weird but relatively harmless molester at Venito''s party. Rithus was almost certainly very much ''appreciated'' at that time. The more Orison thought about it, the more he realized that the ex-Marshlander was very good at coaxing appreciation from people and had little reservation over sacrificing personal dignity to get it. And despite how much of a pushover that made Rithus seem, Orison had personally witnessed that his scaly friend had no problem giving the cold shoulder to opportunists or blatantly ignoring people who expected to be waited on.


    Duran''s need was a little hard to pin point but he identified it as being something like satisfaction and being helpful both. After mulling it around between the four of them, the boy finally understood what he was feeling to be relatively quest oriented. Duran identified an adversity of some kind and when he overcame it, he was rewarded. The types of adversity he most synchronized with were oppression and distress. The greater the oppression or distress, the greater the reward.


    Orison thought, "No wonder the world saw Duran as a threat. What greater source of oppression or distress was there in that world than the will of the world itself!? It''s a damn good thing Medea was able to direct that potentially unlimited angst in positive directions. This group already has a moody prick. I don''t want any competition."


    Having accomplished all they could on the subject, they broke up their meeting to go get dinner. Even if it was just for a little while before they needed to finish up what they missed and move on to their last instruction period, it felt good to be in a circle of familiar faces after being surrounded by strangers for over a month.


    In the midst of their revelries, Three people wearing uniforms that marked them as Sek authority walked up to the group''s table. "Orison Cantrip, you''re wanted for questioning at the royal palace."


    Orison turned his attention to the man in charge, "As soon as the person responsible for sending an assassin after me is apprehended I''d be more than happy to answer any questions the palace may have."


    The Sek authority leader gave a wolfish smile, "As you are in Auma I won''t arrest you but know that you''ll face the same situation in Thoth and Fortune. Currently, there are delegates from both in attendance at the palace and hasty compliance would mean less trouble for all involved. Less is better, especially for you and maybe even your friends."


    Orison frowned. "Duran, what''s the name of the ruling power here in Auma?"


    Duran replied, "The Holy See."


    "Then, whoever you are, we''ll be here for the next two weeks. I''m sure the delegates and whatever force in the palace wishes to question me will have no problems arranging that with the Holy See. Our beginning instruction period is almost elapsed and every person at this table has one more to do." the young mage said blandly.


    The Sek leader scowled and said, "You''d have his highness, the crown prince, come to you, a nobody!?"


    Resisting the sudden trill of rushing adrenaline, Orison said, "I''m the one whose wanted for questioning, not the other way around. Kindly f*** off."


    The angry man said, "I''ll remember this, half-breed."


    As the man turned to go, receiving hostile glares from two other half elves currently taking meals at the inn, Orison offhandedly retorted, "Said every forgettable villain in a second rate story."


    The man spun around, with a snarl etched into his face but before he could manage whatever he was going to say, the nearest half-elf that was dressed in half-plate shot forward with supernatural speed and knocked the man clear out of the inn with a shield that had metal ridges akin to the tread of a hiking shoe. The Sek leader''s companions looked ready to start something until their eyes locked in on the enameled crest etched into the heart guard of the half-elf''s armor.


    In a rich baritone the half-elf said, "Disturbing the peace, twenty-five gold fine for all three of you. Instigating civil unrest, fifty gold fine for your leader. I''m tempted to throw him in the stockade overnight to cool his mouth but since I''ve already used excessive force against him, I''ll pay his disturbing the peace fine as compensation and let the three of you go... No need to pay at the court. It''s registered with the Auma transporter."


    A faint spiritual ripple emanated from the enameled crest as Orison looked over his unasked for champion. Three inch velvety nubs of milk chocolate colored antlers framed a crew cut of green hair so dark it was almost black. Whatever the other half of the man''s blood was, it certainly wasn''t human.


    Caught staring at the unusual features, Orison turned to Gan and said, "What do you think? Can I pull off that haircut?"


    Gan seriously looked between the royal guardian''s head and Orison''s. "Stick it in a tie, Little Boss. It won''t make you look any manlier, just more bratty."


    The cynical look in the green haired man''s eyes turned amused as Orison said, "Could have pulled the punch on that one some, Gan."


    As if some scale had barely shifted enough to be positive, the half-elf came over open handed and offered a forearm clasp. "I''m Ivan, the captain of morning watch."


    Orison grabbed Ivan''s forearm and squeezed once firmly as the gesture was returned with a little more force than was comfortable. "Orison, laughingstock of the new batch of Chosen."


    Ivan''s eyebrows climbed up at the odd self address. "Interesting way of introducing yourself. Why do you say that? And why were the crown prince''s men harassing you?"


    Orison sighed, "If you''ve got the time, I''ve got the story but you might want to refresh your drink and grab a chair first. Since you''re far more of an official ear as I''m probably able to manage under normal circumstances, let me pay for it and make it honest but entertaining."


    Since it was rare but not unheard of for people to spontaneously spawn with a vision of Osomo''s ''heart'' along with a group of strangers that seemed to mesh well, Orison started his and his friends'' story from there. Hamming up the details of their first days and picking their future professions together as reason for closeness, the young mage continued on with his narrative about the summoner and artificer instruction. He cleverly ended things at the triangle room and only stretched the truth of how he learned the ''bridge model'' as his reward from the construct. When he got to his run in with Emir, Orison didn''t exaggerate anything but his own facial expressions as he related Emir''s ''pebble in the slipper'' bit.


    As Orison set down a rune etched stone he''d snagged from the assassin''s inventory that was capable of bringing a person to the nearest transporter then gave a knowing look at Ivan and said, "Fearing immediate reprisal, I got out of there with some magical help. Not but the next morning, an assassin broke into mine and Duran''s inn room. I didn''t know why he was there for sure but I assumed the worst since he had weapons.


    "After that, I left a note for my friends and went back to Daub to take the Association''s alchemist test. I''m lucky to have found the contract note on the assassin and got it to the Daub militia or Sek authority would have arrested me for murder! Now they''re coming back for me again and won''t even say why now except that representatives from Thoth and Fortune are at the palace too. I don''t care why they want me there. I''d be an idiot to go back to Sek."


    Ivan said, "I can''t give you an answer to why the prince is wrapping himself up in this but I can put in a request for arbitration with the Holy See."


    During his narrative, Orison kept feeling faint pulses of spiritual force from the crest on Ivan''s armor. Even though the captain seemed friendly enough, the young mage kept getting a strange vibe that he was being sized up, like the royal guardian saw him as some kind of competition.


    Ivan continued, "I was looking through you and your friends records as you were talking and noticed that you have two outstanding accommodations. Might as well handle that... Do you want gold, equipment or random prizes?"


    Orison considered for a moment before he said "A piece of equipment, preferably weapons for Gan and Rithus if I can do that."


    The royal guardian looked at the young mage sharply and offered his outer wrist to the scout and the ex-Marshlander. "All of this is fairly random except for gold I''m afraid but equipment is never a bad choice unless you already have special pieces."


    Ivan took in the fairly complete and complimentary set of mage gear on Orison.


    Chuckling and trying to sound humbly embarrassed while he lifted up the book that attached itself to a thin waist chain when not ''active'', Orison said, "There are some benefits for barely surviving a run in with a grudge but I''ve learned my lesson. Believe me."


    Ivan nodded and said, "I''ve no reason to question your honesty... This may seem strange but I''d like to have a private word with you."

 72 Crystal Cage 10

    There was a strange intensity to the request that had Orison''s guard up.


    Sighing, the royal guardian said, "I''ve offered to do you a favor even though you''re a complete stranger. Is my request so much to ask for?"


    Orison turned to Gan with confusion in his eyes as if to ask, "Is this guy hitting on me?"


    Gan looked at Ivan and back at the young mage and slowly shook his head, not looking entirely sure.


    Trying not to insinuate anything, Gan asked the royal guardian, "You''ll, um, return Orison the way you took him?"


    Orison thought to himself, "What the hell am I, a cellphone?"


    "I doubt it will come to much but if it does, I''ll cover any medical bills and I promise to do nothing life threatening... Mr. Cantrip, I assure you that safety is my utmost concern, on or off duty. If you''ll agree, I will place your arbitration request as my number one priority," Ivan delivered with a straight face.


    Not seeing any way to politely refuse without causing even more problems for his group, Orison agreed with a great degree of reluctance.


    Leading the young mage deep inside an excessively enchanted cavern, down into the heart of the private property of the controlling family of the Holy See, Ivan eventually said to the increasingly nervous young mage, "No need for such concern. Have a care with your emotions or you''ll draw other family members'' attention and they may not be as gentle in handling you as I will."


    Orison thought, "That''s supposed to help calm me down!?"


    At one point, as they were passing through a corridor with many doors, Ivan put a barrier around them that kept a curious older man with brighter green hair and a six inch set of antlers from getting closer. The older man smirked at Ivan but let them pass. As anxious as he could be without actively being attacked, Orison constructed a teleport model in his space and handed it over to his sub-mind to hold.


    Their strange tour ended past a bedroom that lead into a cavernous space lit with floating orbs and covered in a blanket of faintly luminescent grass. Ivan instructed Orison to put his equipment away and change into unenchanted civilian clothes. What would have been a stern refusal turned into compliance since Ivan backtracked to the bedroom to do the same.


    Combing through his space, Orison managed to find some knit cotton pants and a shirt that didn''t look too far from what the average person might wear in this world. There wasn''t a single set of footwear in his space that didn''t have some kind of enchantment on them but Orison didn''t think it mattered much. Though it was never stated, Ivan had called his steel banded boots into his inventory as soon as they passed through his doors. Apparently clothes didn''t matter much at all since Ivan came back into the cavern wearing only a pair of loose dojo pants.


    Frowning, Orison said, "Alright, start explaining because you''re seriously starting to freak me out and that''s something people a great deal more powerful than you haven''t managed to do."


    A brief stab of envy passed through the anxiety and creeped out sensation Orison was experiencing. Ivan''s frame was around half a foot taller and around two to three inches wider in the shoulder. That allowed the early twenties looking man to healthily support half again as much muscle as the young mage without losing much potential mobility.


    Ivan''s eyes clouded with a look of irritated disbelief as he stalked up to less than a foot away, slightly tilted his chin up and looked down at Orison. "You don''t feel that?"


    The royal guardian was close enough that Orison could feel Ivan''s body heat through through the flimsy shirt as puffs of warm air broke on his forehead. In spite of wanting nothing more than to put a few miles of stone between them, some rousing instinct kept Orison''s spine straight and his eyes unflinching as Ivan stared in them with uncomfortable intensity.


    When Ivan put his hand on Orison''s chest, the young mage broke out in unpleasant goosebumps. "Look, I hope I''m reading this situation all kinds of wrong but... If you''re trying to throw game at me, I''m flattered but I''m not interested."


    Ivan''s intense stare turned blank for a second and then he started laughing. There was no joviality in it at all, however. A sad and impotent rage with a hint of desperation induced madness at it''s edges bubbled up through it.


    A hazy spiritual force began condensing toward Ivan''s hand. "You thought I..."


    Orison registered a faint hint of danger right before a needle of highly condensed will lanced through his spiritual boundary. It felt quite similar to when Duran had did the same thing in front of the mountain of tainted eternium that everyone thought of as the heart of Osomo. Unlike Duran, however, it carried no sense of good will and the royal guardian didn''t try to withdraw it but drove it ever closer to Orison''s spiritual seat.


    The instinct that had been working its way to the surface of Orison''s skin, as it had once before during his fight with the fire wielding master mage, found an outlet past and roared through it. Fortunately for Ivan, the will was strong but not condensed. The first wild surge knocked the green haired man''s will out of Orison and back into himself with enough force to mentally stun the royal guardian.


    Wave after waved crashed and washed over Ivan''s spiritual boundary. Already stunned, the guardian''s legs nearly buckled under the pressure. Staggering backwards away from the young mage, Ivan had finally recovered enough equilibrium to actively resist.


    Ivan smiled and said, "Yes, this is just as good. I may not be able to cow you to boost my confidence but you can help me hone my will."


    Orison was horrified at first. Under his spirit sense, he could see that the will he was unleashing weakened Ivan''s boundary with every tidal surge. The guardian''s admission of trying to assert spiritual dominance mixed with total lack of remorse removed the young mage''s reservations as he began wielding it with deliberate intent.


    Feeling the growing weakness but sharpening of his focus, Ivan thought he was benefiting from the experience but in truth he was mere seconds away from his soul being riddled with weak spots that would take a long time to heal.


    The older man they had passed in the hall, appeared in a blur with his shield in front of him and a barrier springing into existence. "It''s obvious my son is responsible for whatever this is but if you don''t withdraw your intent, I''ll scatter it. No wound you''ve ever felt even comes close to that pain."


    It took all the self control Orison had plus his sub-mind to wrestle the wild intent back inside. Locked away back under his skin, the intent surged around inside of it for awhile before it finally started to settle back down into dormancy.


    Seeing that Orison had gotten himself back under a decent amount of control, the man dropped his guard into a loose state of readiness and turned to his son. "I gave you permission to look for a partner to train your glamour with, not your spiritual intent. It''s far too easy to wound or even maim someone without guidance. What possessed you to do something like this?"


    Ivan looked at Orison bitterly and then back at his father and said, "He''s doing it right now."


    The older man looked at the confused but still angry young mage then turned to scowl at his son. "He''s a descendant of tribal fey not wild fey like we are. Glamour is something we learn. It''s an innate quality they are born with just like we are born with spiritual intent."


    Ivan looked at Orison with a slowly dawning understanding and rising sense of horrified guilt which helped the young mage let go of the biggest portion of his anger. It was pointless holding a grudge over something caused from ignorance when no real harm had been done.


    The older man turned to Orison once more. "I don''t know what era you originally hale from or why Osomo would chose now to release you back into the world but my son isn''t completely wrong to take some offense to what you''re doing once you''re aware... Considering you''ve spawned only a little over a month ago, you''re glamour''s only going to get stronger and it''s already enough to influence people in small ways. If you leave it unchecked, it will warp the personalities and free will of the people around you."


    Feeling a little drained, Orison sat down in the grass and said, "Well, fill me in then because I''m hella lost right now. It would be great if you could start with what is was your son was originally going to do with me and what he actually ended up doing because for a hot second I thought he was trying to get handsy with me."


    The older man forced a building sneer off of his face and said, "Setting aside your... misconception, glamour and intent are two sides of the same coin but before I can answer your questions, I need to know myself. Give me a chance to speak with my foolish boy here and I''ll return in a short while. I''ll send Vivian to attend your needs. Be warned, unaware of your glamour or not, don''t get ''handsy'' with my daughter."


    As soon as they had walked off for a heart to heart, Orison changed back into his gear but kept his boots off since even the father wasn''t wearing shoes when he came in to rescue his son. Even though the young mage was simmering under the surface, he didn''t see any reason to act like an uncouth foreigner in someone else''s home. Besides, he somewhat liked the feeling of the feathery grass.


    Unaware of the goofy grin on his face as he walked and even rolled around in it a couple of times, Orison turned to see that a green hair girl had been watching for an indeterminate amount of time. Trying hard not to blush from being caught acting childish, Orison did some stretches and acted like he had been going through a workout routine. Judging by the wry look on the girl''s face, she had either been watching too long to be fooled or simply didn''t buy it.


    Vivian didn''t stand out overly much when compared to the hyper feminine aesthetic men of this world leaned towards and women in this world tended to desire displaying. Orison, however, found the modestly endowed and willowy Vivian far more appealing. If not for the olive colored hair and deer-like elvish ears, she could easily be the girl next door that men found pleasant to look at but women wouldn''t be overly threatened by. She was the kind of late teen looking girl who had no trouble finding a babysitting gig or retail job.


    With the type of clear and slightly musical voice that Orison could listen to all day, Vivian said, "I really don''t know what my brother was thinking when he brought you here. Of all the times for a descendant of tribal fey to be brought here, it''s the absolute worst."


    Orison said, "According to what your father gave permission for, it was a practice partner for glamour. I think that''s what he intended but ended up acting real weird before losing his temper and tried to do on a spiritual level what I thought he was about to do on a physical level. I have a whole slew of rotten jokes to make me feel better about everything but I think it might be in poor taste to share them with a young woman I''ve just met. More so because her brother is the butt of them."


    Vivian brought out a glass of vibrantly green tea and some biscuits then handed them to Orison. "Ivan''s always been so sensible. It''s unsurprising that in this area, he''d be even more unreasonable than the rest since he tries to be so disciplined the rest of the time... Oh, I mean for the rut. It''s ridiculous really. Why, two years ago, a distant cousin of ours rejected the champion outright and beat him down. I''d say it was quite the scandal but a year before that there were three women of our family who refused to participate at all and threatened to run away if made to.


    "I have it on good authority that the one he has his heart set on isn''t as resistant to his overtures as she''s lead him to believe. I think she was just too shy to tell him and used this year''s challenge as a way to test the sincerity of his feelings. I would have told him as much but I fear if he gave too bad of a showing, she might have a change of heart."


    Orison sighed. "No offense, but I have less interest in your brother''s romantic troubles now than I did when I thought he was trying to make me a part of them. It was zero then, so I''m fairly sure it''s managed to reach negative numbers."


    Looking slightly irritated, Vivian said, "What about a duel of glamour felt romantic to you?" No sooner had she finished saying that, a look of comprehension flit across her face and she continued, "Do you see assertion of dominance as, um, romantic? A cousin once told me it could be quite a thrill. There''s no shame in liking what you like I suppose."


    Orison''s eyes got wide and he waved a hand vigorously, "No, no, no. Whatever this duel of glamours thing is, I didn''t feel it at all!... He brought me into this little quiet spot on the other side of his bedroom, pretty much asked me to change into something more comfortable and then came back in wearing nothing but pajama bottoms. If that wasn''t enough, he gets in my face and says-"


    The young mage dipped into a false baritone and said, "You can''t feel that?" Returning to his normal voice, "Then he groped my chest!"


    Vivian''s face pinched in repressed laughter. "Th-that sounds absolutely dreadful!"


    "I know right!?" Orison chimed in.


    Vivian shook her head. "My poor brother was trying his hardest and he couldn''t even get you to feel his awe inspiration at all. That must have been devastating."


    The young mage realized she was laughing at his misunderstanding but actually felt pity for her brother.


    He thought, "What, you actually think she should care about you? You''re a stranger... Well, she''s a sh*tty hostess. Here I am traumatized and she''s focusing on my assailant. Petty but true."


    She crouched down in front of him where he was half sprawled on the grass, propped into a sitting position with his arms. Balanced on the balls of her feet, she locked large, innocent eyes with him. With a look of extreme concentration on her face, she bit her lower lip as a thin sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead.


    Considering how adorable she looked, Orison decided not to take offense at yet another green haired deer person trying to use a decidedly antagonistic supernatural ability on him. Due to not having his guard up like he had with Ivan, Orison felt a slight tingling itchy sensation spread across him. The settling intent inside of him stirred ominously as Orison willed it down.


    "You- you can''t feel that?" Vivian said, shooting optimistic eyes at him.


    A little flustered, Orison said, "Maybe? If you promise not to flip out and start trying to poke a hole in me with your intent, you can put your hand on me."


    A light splash of pink colored her cheeks as she reached out and lightly placed a hand on his chest. Like a spark had leapt between them, a faint but ultimately ignorable wisp of essence tried to sink into his mind. Not having it, the roaming beast of intent nipped at it.


    His intent might not be fully under his control but it was still a part of him. Since he was positively inclined towards the female who had just tried to charm him, the wild intent just weakened the outer layer of the foreign intent flavored glamour. As it returned to her, it soaked in some of Orison''s own unconscious glamour. Both were unaware until it was too late for either of them to do anything about it.


    For only a split second, Orison''s relatively innocent subconscious desire to earn a little friendly affection from the cute girl intensified within her into something not quite so innocent. She lunged in and kissed him hungrily as she fell on him. The young mage''s body had a predictable instinctual response to the sudden stimulation but he didn''t reach for her, he tried to back away. He fully well knew that it wasn''t her choice to throw herself at him but some kind of retributive rebound of charm.


    Despite his chivalrous response, she could feel the not so gentlemanly part of him quite clearly. In a fit of embarrassment and shame from failure, she slapped him before rationality returned and she scampered back to her feet and away from him like he was a campfire she had accidentally fell on. Though it had stung a little, the reflexive slap hadn''t been that powerful so Orison shrugged it off as he stood up. Letting the front split in his robes drape closed to curtain off the only evidence of his guilty indulgence in what happened, Orison said in a slightly cracking voice, "I may not know much about glamour and spiritual intent but it must take quite a lot of practice to add the penetrative power of intent to your charm and keep the soul attacking quality out."


    Vivian willingly took the peace offering but denied the flattering topic for distraction it was couched in. "Not so much. It was actually quite clumsy. I committed far too much of my strength into the push so I didn''t have anything held in reserve to defend with. You can learn from my mistake and we''ll call it even on the slap... I''m sorry for overreacting. In a way, I suppose I could take it as flattering that-"


    The stern voice of Vivian and Ivan''s father cut in, "Save the mutual stroking of ego. You both possess an embarrassing lack of self-control."

 73 Crystal Cage 11

    Vivian''s father continued to berate, "Orison was summoned back to Osomo scant more than a month ago with little memory and no family to guide him. What is your defense Vivian? More importantly, why did you engage in training with our visitor of unknown strength and quality?"


    Just shy of naked hostility, Vivian replied, "It was foolish. I''m certain GRANDMOTHER will have a punishment or supplementary lessons for me after I report my mistakes to HER. Feel free to report your version as you will, father."


    As she turned to storm away, her father said, "Stay, Vivian. You''ll want to hear this."


    The subtle entreaty added to soften the initially sharp given command sounded as if it had physically pained the prideful man to say but none of that wounded pride was present when he turned to Orison.


    The man soberly told the young mage, "This was an inappropriate place to leave you. Follow me to my dwelling and we''ll continue a much needed conversation there. You have the same word from me as Ivan gave you."


    Orison fell in step behind the man. "Does that mean that I can be expecting an assault from you as well at some point?"


    Vivian was about to speak up when the man said, "No. You will be taught how to draw your glamour in before I release you back into the general population, at minimum. You may not be aware yet but you''re a walking disturbance of the peace and dangerous to be unsupervised as you are now."


    Unwilling to be cut off a second time, Vivian spoke before Orison could. "Why be so alarmist over an affinity glamour? Are you afraid he''s going to friend the world to death?"


    The man didn''t answer his daughter immediately as he lead them into a living space that was lavish and comfortable looking without being gaudy.


    The move to sit on the couch while bidding them to take the two overstuffed chairs spurred a spark of amusement from Orison as the man said, "Harmless to us perhaps but there are plenty of people incapable of resisting glamour in any form."


    Orison said, "Look, no explanations necessary on the whys. I wasn''t aware I was doing it before but I wouldn''t want to be throwing around any kind of infringement on someone else''s free will, no matter how minor. That''s...wrong."


    The man nodded and continued, "After seeing the state of my son''s aura shell, I''d be able to identify either on any further victims. Since I''d be the one called in to identify and possibly hunt you, you''ll have to forgive me for my reticence to train you properly. It would be a conflict of interest...


    "You''ve done nothing wrong either, so I''m willing to give you all benefit of doubt and owe you some compensation. Aside from training you in how to contain your glamour, is there anything else I can do for you? No need to ask for the request you gave my son. Your arbitration''s already been registered."


    Orison sensed a hidden test in the offer. He was also somewhat convinced that whatever Ivan had done, it was a serious affair and probably carried a heavy punishment. It was a punishment Ivan would never have to worry about receiving because his father was obviously keen to cover it up. If Orison were to push that issue all the young mage would earn from it would be open hostility and that was the last thing he wanted any more of.


    Taking the high road, even though he didn''t feel the least bit forgiving at the moment, Orison said, "Things may have went sideways towards the end there but it doesn''t change that he went out of his way to help a stranger with their problem. It was obvious that he was just as clueless as I was in certain important matters so I''m inclined to just forget the whole mess. If that can earn me a little positive regard, then great. If not, at least we can walk away from each other with no hard feelings I hope."


    The man chuckled mirthlessly. "A little positive regard and no hard feeling, is it? If you say it''s cheap compensation, it''s cheap. If you say it''s expensive, it''s certainly that as well but I''d look petty to deny it wouldn''t I? Perhaps you were a diplomat in the era you hail from."


    Orison smiled wryly. "I have a vague sense of some experience in that direction."


    With zero warning, Orison felt a hammer of compulsion hit him and before the wild intent within him ripped it to shreds, the man asked, "What tribe are you from?"


    Before regaining control of his thoughts, Orison said blankly, "I don''t kn- Dannan. I''m from the tribe of Dannan... You better have a good reason for doing that or I''m going to begin considering you word worth less than sh*t paper!"


    The man frowned at the accusation and said, "Isn''t it obvious? You now know your tribe. It''s written into your blood but you would have had no way of knowing easily in your current state. Am I right?"


    Orison was starting to feel a little ill from all the small spikes of adrenaline he''d been dealing with throughout the day. "Ferreting out my secrets for your own satisfaction was just a happy coincidence then? I''m not completely ignorant and I''m certainly not one of your subordinates to command... Vivian, is there anyone I can appeal to-"


    The man stood up and said in an imposing voice, "You will not be going anywhere until you''re trained to withdraw your glamour!"


    Not breaking eye contact with Vivian, Orison finished, "for my training? I don''t feel safe with this person."


    Vivian flashed her father a seething look before turning to Orison and said, "Forgive father. He was an inquisitor for the Holy See when grandfather was in charge. They were quite stern then and some habits are hard to break. The only other person within the See that would be inclined to help you would be my grandmother. She''s... not kind to men with glamour or intent control issues. If it gives you some comfort, I can promise to take note of everything father does before I report to her."


    With the same sad but angry look Ivan had given him earlier, the man looked at his daughter while speaking to Orison, "Young man, I know that this is all confusing and frustrating for you but your training''s already started."


    The young mage sighed heavily and said, "Fine, but if you keep prying into anymore of my private matters without asking consent first, I will leave. Please don''t make this into a p*ssing contest. I can and I will but not if you don''t give me any more reasons to. Fair enough?"


    The man took a few deep breaths to get his own emotional agitation under control and said, "I may not be an inquisitor any more but I''m still an inspector under the criminal division. You may refer to me as Inspector Drey. Not even the citizens of Auma use the Nunos surname when speaking with us. Surnames are only spoken in the most formal of situations, such as issuing a duel or other kinds of challenge."


    Orison nodded and said, "Alright, Inspector Drey."


    "Then let''s begin," Drey said with a faint smile.


    ***


    The young mage looked around at the house-like mall palace until he finally spotted ghostly boy Orison. "What went wrong this time?"


    Beta was concentrating fiercely on something as it said, "The sizable amount of remaining wish structured miasma came into direct conflict with fey heritage and lost but our body can''t handle the gains. We''re not clear on what should be done. As the controlling consciousness, you have a hard choice that needs to be made quickly. Do we give the excess gains to your companions or give it to Ivan and Vivian?


    "Giving it to your companions means a short stay here but the risk of death for you is over fifty percent and it may have future detrimental affects to them. Giving it to Ivan and Vivian has less than one percent chance of death but the losses of current resources will be greater. It should be stated that major violations of free will occurred and the gains may make their family grateful to you rather than making you a fugitive. Analysis of greatest potential outcomes states the Nunos family will be aware that none of what transpired will have been your conscious choice but pride may still demand satisfaction."


    Orison looked at the ghostly boy and asked, "What exactly did I do?"


    "It''s more beneficial for you not to know. Do you desire to know anyway?" Beta asked.


    The young mage said, "Keep it vague."


    Beta nodded and said, "After devouring Drey''s invading intent, Your fey blood was stimulated. Some of that direction of stimulation contradicted the structure of your desire beyond the physical expression of your longevity and training wishes, exploited loopholes included. Several variables lead to undesirable results. If you were trying to gauge if your guilt response or compassion were high enough to warrant choosing them to alleviate the difficulty of your decision, then based on past decision making, yes.


    "Please note that requesting any more information will result in detrimental psychological effects that aren''t warranted. This conclusion is based off of correlated data from what is known about Nunos family ritual and wild fey lore temporarily gained from the consumption of Drey''s intent... Time in the mindscape is nearly one-thousand times faster but a decision needs to be made or... We have no choice now. Is there anything that you''d like to know before being placed in comatose status for the process to safely be completed? We only ask for our comfort and preservation of choice."


    Orison asked, "How bad is the damage to my body?"


    "Extensive but temporary outside of mid and short-term memory loss. We don''t have the ability to replace lost memories until they are recorded into the long-term center of your physical mind," the ghostly boy said.


    Orison nodded. "No chance of recall surprising me? Then I''ll accept ignorance. From the information gained from Drey, prioritize the meditation technique. I know the glamour and intent stuff is going to be dormant again but I want to be ready for when it comes back... I know we already have, I''m just saying it to hear myself think it. I wanted to see if it would give me any inspiration on things I can ask my sub-mind indirectly while I had the chance."


    Beta said, "Now that the miasma is gone, there are no known conflicts with any other functions. Key synchronization has increased. Space, crystal formation and spirit blood have formed a compatible cycle and the lattice work filtration has evolved into a receptacle for incompatible material. Do not exceed it''s ability to process between step baptisms or we''ll lose it.


    "Don''t give in to the impulse to panic at the loss of previous crystal formation material. We have a month to reestablish it. Don''t panic at the loss of spell models. All overlapping parts are consolidated based off the hypothetical model you made. Our physical mind was getting quite full of redundant and useless information pushed into it from supernatural sources and magic studies... Of course, no emotional memory was touched during this process."


    All went dark.


    ***


    As the young mage came to, Duran bellowed, "AWAKE."


    By the time his eyes came into focus, Orison was surrounded by his companions. Off in a corner, not quite capable of meeting his eyes, stood Vivian. Before he could start asking questions once he downed two glasses of water, he was informed he''d been out for a little over a week. Despite that, he didn''t feel weak in any meaningful way but had a little stiffness to work out. To everyone''s confusion and amusement, he went through a light calisthenic exercise and cleaned himself with a combination of presto and create water that had been absorbed by his ''Matter'' concept.


    With the consolidation of his models into the various concepts he had put together when he had been sharing magic knowledge with Mo and Mylar, Orison had temporarily lost quite a bit of versatility but he was primed for greater gains. Of all the things that had been reduced to their primary components, Orison was glad to see that Oberon and Titania had been left in tact for the moment. If he didn''t have them then he''d have no real competitive ability with which to start the new chapter of his journey.


    While he was filled in with all the essential information for the time he''d been playing ''sleeping beauty'', Orison looked at the devastated and empty place where his original formation had been. He still felt the deep pressure that hid within the spot, ready to condense more, but it would take a good deal of time to rebuild unless he started farming ''grudges''. That was an idea that sounded somewhat suicidal until everyone was coordinated in their combat.


    Things took a slightly awkward turn when Rithus and Duran left for the boy''s guardian training. In the ensuing silence, it was obvious that Vivian had some things she wanted to share in private but Gan was beaming distrustful and suspicious eyes at her. With the gap in his memory, Orison wasn''t exactly sure if being alone with her was a good idea or not but trusted that his sub-mind knew what it was doing.


    "Hey, Gan. Since we''re about to be done with our instruction, do you want to check out the best sights for us to start advancing in? I know it''ll take some time but I''ll give you some gold for lunch and join you there," Orison offered.


    Shooting a complex look between the two of them, Gan said, "Sure thing, Little Boss."


    After Orison transferred some gold from his surprisingly low amount, Gan walked off a little hesitantly. Alone, Vivian and the young mage stared at each other with an almost identical look of cool evaluation.


    Vivian started, "What do you remember of what happened at the rut challenge?"


    Confused, Orison said, "Rut challenge? What''s that? Technically, I think I know what it IS but what was I doing there?"


    Vivian looked searchingly into Orison eyes and then said, "If you don''t remember, it probably for the best to leave it that way. No one''s going to bring up what happened and no one can say you did anything wrong or broke any of the traditions... in spirit at least."


    "Was there anything good to come out of it? If I''m left completely in the dark it''ll bug me forever," Orison said anxiously.


    With a small shudder, Vivian said, "Well, as a challenger, your cruelty touched the very limits of what''s allowed. No young buck is ever going to want to step on your shadow anytime soon. I''ve never seen my brother cry like- never mind... I can''t speak for anyone else but when it was time for the claiming, you only wanted me. As angry at you, as sad for my brother as I was, how could I not forgive?


    "Before I say any more I have to tell you how it started. At the beginning, you rushed out of father''s abode like you were on fire and ran straight for the challenge circle like you knew exactly where it was and bellowed out a challenge at everyone. The elder generation was going to deny you since you didn''t have antlers but as if Osomo herself tired of their posturing, you grew a pair, right there on the spot. They were beautiful, made out of the mother''s heart, I swear it!


    "Grandmother herself declared it a sign of Osomo''s favor and sent word to all the family that the challenge would begin right then and there. I won''t ever speak of the challenge itself but grandmother was appalled when she saw that you were prepared to claim me in the dirt. You wouldn''t respond to words or taunts but when she grunted at you, you looked at her and she pointed with her chin all around where other bucks were building beds.


    "Seeing the beds of feather grass they had cultivated themselves along with whatever trinkets and whatnot to insure the woman they wanted wouldn''t deny them, you looked at the bare ground and back up at me like you were going to cry from the shame of it. In the next moment, you built a queen''s bed for me of gold, jewels and silk. Many other things that looked like they came from a long past era, grandmother took before I had a chance to explore them."


    Vivian blushed scarlet and took a moment to adjust herself. "We didn''t get to, to finish. You started looking like you were in pain but was... dedicated. I was... drunk on fulfillment but I was still aware enough to realize that it was really my great uncle''s fault things didn''t end the way they were supposed to. I''m certain that he bellowed a challenge at you, not for me but for your antlers. It was cowardly of him to wait until you were weakened from... your different battles.


    "Even with grandmother screaming herself hoarse over the sacrilege, he was preparing to fight you in physical combat. It was like you became a different person in an instant. In serene naked glory, you stood up and calmly broke off your own antlers and pushed one into my chest. It was insane but even though I thought you were going to kill me, I just let you do it. It hurt at first and then my world burst into light and shadow.


    "My cousin told me that afterward, my great uncle was lunging for you to grab the other antler out of your hand when two fairies from myth just appeared and started harassing him. Their scathing comments about him distracted long enough for grandmother to knock him unconscious with a spell. You just kept walking like nothing in the world was of any importance other than what you wanted to do."


    Vivian took a second to catch her excitement shortened breath.

 74 Crystal Cage 12

    Achieving a modicum of control, she continued, "Now, I don''t know how accurate the next part is because my cousin hates the girl my brother likes with every fiber of her being and she likes to exaggerate things that strike her odd fancy. She claims that you walked over to where my brother was and pushed the girl out of the way. Oh, don''t worry. You didn''t interrupt his claiming or anything. That loathsome girl revealed her true colors that day.


    "So there''s no confusion if events turn out to be slightly false, it''s my cousin''s fault... She claims that you pushed the woman out of the way because she was raining insults down on him. My cousin thinks Ivan''s intended, who admittedly does have a mean streak, felt slighted for me being chosen by you instead of her and decided to take it out on my brother.


    "This next part is where I don''t know how much of my cousin''s story I believe. She said that after you stood before him, you knelt down and lifted his head because he was so shamed by you in challenge that he couldn''t meet your eyes. She claims you cleaned him with magic before anointing him with blood from a narrow bottomed urn that seemed to immediately fill him with health and vigor.


    "She went on to say that you combed his hair with your fingers and kissed his cheek before you shoved the other antler into his chest. Another family member who was closer and on the other side of the cavern said that it looked more like you grabbed his hair to keep him from flinching away as you whispered something before cruelly stabbing him with it. What everyone can agree on was that once you finished gifting the antler to my brother, you fainted and he carried you away.


    "No one except my brother knows where you were or what state you were in for the next couple of days and the only thing he''ll tell anyone was that for all that he owed you, he would honor his word and your small request if it cost him his life to do so. Even grandmother was turned away when she asked after you. She was tempted to force answers out of him but she admitted to being unnerved by Ivan''s grim refusal. Two days later, he brought you out and dropped you off with your friends after apologizing over the delay."


    Orison was a little shell shocked and felt a faint nostalgia for Droya''s oversharing speeches.


    A little unsure of what to say to all of that, he asked, "Is there any other business that brings you here? I''ve lost a lot of time and should probably try to catch up with my companions or they''ll leave me behind."


    Vivian stammered a bit while blushing and said, "I thought that maybe, you know...but I guess that it was all smoke and confusion for you, huh? No huge surprise. I just..."


    The young woman started crying and it took some coaxing to calm her down. All the while she had been getting closer and curling into him provocatively. She didn''t love him. She might not even like him that much but whatever had happened that he couldn''t remember had made her feel she was more than she thought herself to be. After all the glamour and hormones had worn off, Orison thought that maybe she wanted some confirmation.


    Maybe it was because he was still a little unstable. Maybe giving her what she wanted was easier than facing her hurt face if he rejected her. In a moment of more painful honesty, perhaps he simply wanted her and didn''t want to give logic and reality enough time to provide him with a reason to say no that he couldn''t refuse. Fishing out the small handful of familiar ring shaped packages from the assassin''s loot, Orison bent himself to the sweetest labor nature demanded from the creatures upon it while denying nature its due.


    Sometime later, amid fading bliss and cooling sweat, Orison struggled to put words to his tangled feelings into the slowly growing space between their tangled limbs. "Hi."


    With a small, confused smile, Vivian replied, "Welcome back?"


    Drawing her back in close, the young mage said, "What I mean is, I''m not ready to let go yet."


    Orison''s body rebelled with a loud growl issuing from his empty stomach.


    Vivian lifted her head and nipped at his neck. "Then let''s order in and make a day of it. I like your hungry look but hearing it too isn''t as... endearing. Besides, I''m feeling a little peckish myself."


    With a mental apology to Gan for standing him up, the young mage gave in to her wishes. If some food and a little more time for affection was all she wanted, then that''s all he''d give her. Over the course of an afternoon, Orison indulged in physical needs and wants while slowly killing the small ember of possibility that had sprung up in his heart. When Vivian had reached the limit of what she could endure and Orison had reached a tipping scale where ache was overcoming enjoyment, he finally let her go.


    As she dressed silently, they met eyes one last time. Mirrors of each other, there was satisfaction, accomplishment and a touch of emptiness. As insightful as he thought himself to be, he had only been half right. She may have came for validation but she had stayed for closure. Once the door closed behind her, Orison hit himself and the sheets with cleaning but couldn''t quite get up the energy or desire to do more than just lay in the bed and stare at the ceiling.


    A few minutes later, there was a Gan patterned knock at the door. Not hearing Orison shouting otherwise, the scout let himself in. Taking one look at the young mage, the grouchy scowl on his face turned into slightly concerned amusement.


    Setting the paper bag in his hands on the dresser, Gan pulled out a couple of green bottles with reusable caps on them. "Did the lass break you, Little Boss?"


    Accepting the offered bottle, Orison sat up and popped it open, "Maybe a little. Nothing to worry about. An evening of wallowing in self pity ought to cover it... Good god, Gan. If this beer was any greener it would give a leprechaun the sh*ts!"


    Gan chuckled as he flopped into one of two chairs near the window table. "A Northlander will fight you over those words." He took a big swig from his own and let out a belch, "Kiss of the hops."


    Orison rolled out of bed and threw some shorts on before flopping into the other chair.


    The scout snorted. "Still burns me up."


    With grim determination, Orison swallowed a few more drinks of the offensive beer. "What does?"


    "I spent this whole week busting my a** hunting and getting certified as a tanner while you just slept and still roll out looking like you put in more effort. Do you sleepwalk Morrel''s training routine or something?" Gan complained.


    Whether from bitter beer or memories, Orison had a sour look on his face as he said, "You joke but I actually woke up stretching once. In fairness, I had forgotten to take off those enchanted boots but still."


    Curious, Orison stood up and walked to the mirror in the bathroom. The last bit of odd block shape that had stubbornly persisted in his muscles had smoothed to an appreciable silk over steel cable. As much as he wanted to lose himself in narcissistic admiration, other features caught his eye that had him a little dumbfounded. Inhumanly bright eyes colored like still frames of the Caribbean Ocean stared back at him.


    Beyond, in the reflection, a set of perfectly symmetrical and very much human ears helped hold nearly translucent hair back. Orison swore he''d never cut his hair too short to lay. Unnaturally numerous strands of silk fine hair with an indigo shine, they would surely feel like chinchilla fur and probably be just as puffy.


    Every aspect of himself was unblemished, symmetrical perfection. The more he looked, the more unnatural he felt. Switching to spirit sight, Orison scanned over himself to realize that the free flowing blue motes of ''spiritual blood'' had thickly condensed into his marrow, filtering in and out of his body through just as inhumanly symmetrical veins. The icing on top of the creepy cake was the discovery of two completely in sync hearts and two smaller but highly efficient livers.


    A part of himself that hadn''t batted an eye at having pointy ears balked hard at the new changes. Intuitively, he understood that whatever was happening could only be counted as an infant, a pupal stage. Knowing without really understanding how, Orison realized that after he''d changed a bit more, all the physical parts would eventually be natural looking again. It would only be just a facade, however, a mimicry to hide him from predators or maybe prey.


    Orison came charging out of the bathroom and stood in front of Gan, arms out wide and said somewhat manically, "Do you see it?"


    With oddly guarded eyes, Gan said, "See what?"


    "Perfect symmetry. Everything''s exactly the same on both sides," Orison said.


    Not knowing exactly what to say to that, Gan lamely replied, "Congratulations?"


    Frustrated, the young mage lowered his arms and walked closer, locking eyes with the scout, "I have TWO hearts, Gan!"


    Gan chuckled a little nervously and said, "Well, that''s something."


    Seeing that all he was managing to do was make his friend uncomfortable, Orison put all his gear on and said, "I''ve got two livers too. I feel like trashing them with cheap booze. You game to join?"


    The scout didn''t say anything. He just put his stuff into his inventory and headed for the door, looking back at Orison as if to say, ''what''s the hold up?''


    The young mage held the half used up purifying crystal in his hand. Beyond all expectations, it had cleared out the assassin''s and the one he''d snagged on his way into reality. Somewhere along the way, he''d lost the assassin one and he knew it likely had ended up in one of the antlers, maybe both. At the moment, he didn''t care about that. He just wanted the crystal to get to work clearing up Gan''s Osomo infection.


    Orison''s little ''look at me'' episode must have spooked Gan more than the young mage thought it did because when Orison approached him with the crystal, the scout looked ready to bolt rather than let it touch him. Orison quickly explained where it came from and what it did. Banking on the long standing trust they''d built despite his jitters, Gan put the crystal up to his chest and pushed before lowering his shirt back down so he didn''t have to see it slowly sinking in.


    They waited a few minutes, Gan pulling the half empty bottle of beer back out of his inventory and finishing it. With no discernible change, Orison contemplated just calling it a night and letting things take their course first but Gan wasn''t having it.


    Gan grabbed his arm and headed out the door. "You''ve got extra organs and now I have rocks in me. You aren''t backing out."


    "As soon as you feel something off, we come back. I don''t expect anything though. I''ve tested it twice. I''d try more out but I''m afraid it would run out of power." Orison said.


    Gan stuck fingers in his ears. "We''re getting drunk. No serious talk allowed until after remembering it gets hard."


    As Gan half dragged and then pushed, the young mage chuckled and said, "F*** it. I''d say YOLO but it''s obviously a lie. At least I''m pretty sure it is."


    "What''s YOLO?" Gan asked.


    Orison replied, "It means ''you only live once'' but I can say with some certainty that you can, in fact, live more than once."


    Gan mulled over that until three shots of what Orison assumed was rum. "No, I think it''s right. The me from yesterday isn''t even the same as I am now. Sleep is like the end of a whole one day life or something. Even if we do come back, we aren''t the same person. The life you know now is the only time you''ll have it, you know. So YOLO isn''t wrong, at least not the spirit of it."


    Nearly fifty gold worth of drinks and eats later, Orison blearily remembered that he wasn''t that wealthy anymore and for the first time since he left the lake house manor for Whiteriver, the young mage was almost broke. In this world, he wasn''t a young lord. He didn''t have stockpiles of resources or rich family. There was only one way for him to earn good money fast here and that was to kill. Grabbing one more bottle of ''Cactus Blue'', Orison convinced Gan to go back to the mage''s room.


    Orison thought to himself, "My god, drinking with Gan in the tavern would cripple a well off person much less a broke one."


    It was a little hard to get the conversation rolling but Orison got the scout to spill what was on the boards. Though it was barely coherent, the young mage got a good idea of where they''d be going for the next few days while Rithus and Duran finished up. Considering circumstances, it sounded like the best plan.


    Due to Orison''s issues, Gan and Rithus both had decided to go the route Orison had and got their certs through the Children equivalent associations in Auma.


    When the tanner examiner realized that Gan could teach him a thing or two about leather work, the examiner passed the scout earlier that day. Rithus hadn''t been so previously blessed with knowledge on tailoring. The wife of Duran''s guardian instructor just so happened to be a part of the weaver''s guild and for a small fee, Rithus did field training in the art while Duran and the boy''s instructor protected them.


    With all the traveling, inn rooms and eschewing free crafting instructors for costly paths through the associations, everyone''s funds were low. It tickled Orison a bit that the one with the most funds at the moment was probably Duran. In the long run it didn''t matter much, Orison needed something far more than money anyway and that was also something that murder hobo-ing for a few days would help with.


    A dark part of him even hoped that some Sek idiot would follow them out to where they were going and really give them a pile of quick gains. Then it dawned on him that he wasn''t some big bad-a** here. Orison wouldn''t even rank in the middle and if he was caught out in the boonies with Gan and little else against someone like the assassin he''d managed to catch off guard, they could die all too easily. It was a humbling thing that despite all his quirks, nothing had overly changed much from when they''d first arrived here aside from some spiffy new spells or abilities.


    As Orison laid in bed, not the least bit tired, he thought, "I may not have raw power but I do have a lot of tricks. Once I get the ball rolling, I should be able to close the gap to mid range pretty quick. It irks me that I can''t go hit up a trainer again. I''ve got the room in my noggin now but it''s probably just as well. Ninety percent of that sh*t''s either Osomo dependent or so lacking in practical theory behind how it works, it would probably just screw up what I can do or maybe even pollute my understandings which is worse than nothing."


    After dragging an insensibly drunk Gan out of the chair and dumping the scout into bed, Orison spent the rest of the night studying his past and present summoning models trying to make sense of how it worked in Osomo.

 75 Crystal Cage 13

    "Why did you choose this wreck of a place? Auma instructors across the board say this area is the worst," Gan said dejectedly.


    Orison smiled widely as he looked across the lightly forested slopes. "I actually chose it for that reason."


    Almost looking angry, Gan said, " I hope you didn''t have me spend almost three hours looking through zone information just as busy work."


    The young mage shook his head. "No, there was more to it than that. I wanted to make sure the place I picked wasn''t close to any of the top choices. There''s a handful of places I was looking at and this one is the second least used and furthest from from the top listed spot from its area. Plus, you''re the map guy, our scout. In the future, when we need to know where to go, everyone''s going to turn to you."


    Gan looked surprised and then thoughtful. "In all the excitement I kind of forgot. I don''t know when it happened but I stopped thinking of myself as a scout."


    Orison nodded and said, "I''ll take some of the blame for that. For one reason or another I kept you glued to my side instead of letting you do what you''re best at... Gan, once our group is together and we start adventuring properly, I''ll still have a hard time asking you to scout ahead."


    An awkward silence lingered between them as they looked for the entrance to one of the giant ant hills that held the prey they sought.


    Right before they went underground, Gan said, "I think I get it. I appreciate that you understand how dangerous scout work is and if I was in your position, I can''t say I''d have an easy time with it either. When you''re in charge of a group, sometimes what''s good for the group means more danger for just one of them. Sometimes it means one has to die so that everyone else can make it. I don''t think it should ever be an easy thing to do but it''s the burden of being the one in charge."


    Gan seemed to be satisfied at the thoughtful look on Orison''s face, not realizing that the young mage was just made aware of another small darkness that escaped notice before. Orison realized if it came down to it, Gan would be the last one he''d choose to ever abandon or sacrifice for any reason. It wasn''t that he didn''t care about Rithus or Duran but that he considered Gan more important. It was a twisted and guilt inducing feeling but the young mage came to understand that some deeper part of himself didn''t just register Gan as someone between a best friend and a subordinate but also as something that belonged to him, a possession.


    Orison knew such feelings were nothing more than that, a thing he couldn''t help. He swore to himself that even though such a childish and messed up sentiment existed within him, he''d not let it affect how he treated Gan. He made a silent promise to the scout that he''d never stand in the way of Gan''s future happiness, even if that happiness took the scout away from Orison''s side. No matter how much the young mage valued Gan, there were just some things Orison wasn''t willing to do or say because they wouldn''t just be lies but also betrayals.


    As they combed deeper into the dark and long abandoned tunnels, Orison ruminated the practical side of their group. Rithus was only a year or so from coming into his own. That would likely spell the ''beginning of the end'' of his entanglement with Orison. Once the ex-Marshalander shook off his past, both memory and no longer existing disabilities, Orsion had the intuition that the shadow that guided Rithus would lead the scaly man elsewhere. Their ''climbing'' paths weren''t that compatible, though Orison had no idea why.


    Duran was a bit of a hot mess but he would become a strong and reliable person with a little support. Orison felt that the boy had a good chance of sticking around with him for a good while on their ''climb'' but there would inevitably come a day when the greater good that Duran subconsciously served conflicted with Orison''s personal goals. It was a simple understanding that buried underneath the trauma Duran had experienced was the heart of a hero. It''s what let Duran survive what had happened to him and it''s what would drive him to greater heights in the future, if it didn''t get him killed.


    Gan was Gan. He was a relatively simple and straight-forward person. Under the surface, the scout was a person with deeply hidden noble sentiments and even deeper insecurities that combined to make him a loyal and trustworthy person to those that could get past the invisible fortress the scout had built around himself. A simple offering of human kindness and a place to belong may have won Gan for a lifetime but there was one thing that could take the scout away. Despite his current contentment, there would always be an emptiness that only one kind of person could fill. When that person came along, they''d be the whole world to Gan.


    Orison contemplated himself. He tried to be a good person but he could only truthfully claim to be neutral at best. The combination of Al and the original Orison may have canceled out the worst traits in each other and made for an individual with a lot of potential but the resulting person was still deeply flawed.


    Gan''s whispering voice knocked Orison out of his thoughts. "Three red dots. They''re about fifty feet past the bend in front of us."


    There were several reasons why the beginner zone they were in wasn''t popular. The biggest one was that the creatures that called the abandoned ant tunnels home were hard to catch. As soon as a group came near, they''d flee into the ground.


    There were two different creatures in the tunnels that looked exactly the same and one dropped nothing except a little mole skin. The earth elementals that disguised themselves as moles had a chance to drop precious stones or even magic gems but if even one mole was killed, they''d hide for days before emerging again. That meant that the average beginner, alone or in a group, stood little chance of making a decent gain versus time spent when compared to the more commonly used areas.


    Orison scanned with spirit sight, identifying that one out of the three cowardly hostiles had a much stronger spiritual signature. Getting as close as they dared, Orison sent Titania to speed strike and hopefully paralyze the mole disguised elemental. Close to the maximum distance that his summons could travel, Titania readied her wand and struck out with a tiny bolt of lightning.


    The two pet moles immediately fled. The remaining elemental was finished off by Oberon. Orison was hit by a rush of spirit essence nearly as thick as a third of the wasp grudge but despite pulling for all his space''s power was capable, only grabbed a single opal worth about ten gold.


    The young mage frowned. "Well, Gan, I snagged a ten gold pebble. Not the windfall I was expecting but they are hella rich in spirit. If the trend stays this bad, we''ll try somewhere else after I''ve filled up a bit to replace what I lost in the insanity inside the Nunos family cave system or whatever they call it."


    Gan said, "I don''t get it. Why would there be a zone like this at all? Old ant hills taken over by moles and earth spirits that are almost worthless doesn''t fit with the rest. Every single area of the world I''ve learned about serves one purpose or another."


    Orison nodded thoughtfully. "Just being near when I got that one netted you about ten times the personal spirit gain that smashing a wasp in Daub would have given you. If it was just a little easier to hunt them then it''d be the perfect place for summoners, healers or even druids to get their first advancement requirements. Something tells me that somewhere along the way, this place fell out of favor due to other areas being more suitable for advancement.There''s probably some hidden reward for certain accomplishments here but if it was good, it wouldn''t fallen out of favor.


    "At first, I thought of Osomo as a spirit essence farm that trapped souls here. I''m starting to get a different vibe though. I think it might have served a different purpose a long time ago but like a lot of things about this world, it''s been lost to time. Left to their own devices, the people of Osomo have become addicted to pursuing the easiest and most efficient gains."


    Gan said, "If this place had a set of people to fill in the gaps of understanding that the trainers don''t or maybe just can''t cover, this whole reality would turn into a giant training camp to pump out soldiers. They wouldn''t be as good as someone who earned it the old-fashioned way but the slightest advantage in numbers can make a big difference in a war."


    Orison''s eyes brightened, "That''s it! One of the things that Lily left in my head was a bit of knowledge on what kind of realities to avoid and how to spot them. The warning came a little late to do us any good this time but she warned me that essence rich places that weren''t new might belong to a faction or a powerful family. This reality might have been a training facility but somewhere along the way, lost it''s owners for some reason."


    With dull eyes, Gan said, "Neat. Not useful though."


    Orison smiled wryly. "Don''t be so sure. It could be useless information or it could turn into a priceless piece of knowledge."


    Turning back to the task at hand, Orison and Gan successfully hunted two more before an ominous feeling rose to warn them not to hunt anymore least they raise a grudge. The second reason why this place was so unpopular reared it''s ugly head. Even if a group had a way to hunt the elementals in a timely manner, it didn''t take many kills to risk raising a grudge.


    The results were the same as the first, good essence gain but bad loot-to-effort ratio. Gan questioned why Orison wouldn''t call it a day and find a better place but the young mage wanted to hit the other two mounds. It might not be that lucrative to stay but the best part of morning was gone and other areas would be farmed fairly thoroughly for the day. It took all their special cheats but they stood to average out to most first years farming in beginner zones with competition.


    As they slipped into the third and final ant hill, having made quick work of the second, Gan said, "It might be a little more leg work but this isn''t too bad. I heard fights are fairly common in some of the more popular places when too many are clearing the same areas. The man who ran the zone board told me the top three places have grudge related deaths pop up fairly regular."


    Orison chuckled. "Are you saying this because one of the elementals from hill two dropped a magic stone? I know the average one can go for around 200 gold but the one we have is only useful to beginner druids and mid range summoners. We''ll be lucky to get around fifty for it and that''s only due to minimum price protection."


    Gan weak optimism collapsed instantly.


    Scowling, the scout said, "Even the special drops are crappy here. What a waste of a day."


    "You do realize that we are still pulling the average. With our ''climber'' advantages we could get more elsewhere but we''d also draw attention. Besides, in the first two hills we could only kill three elementals. How much you want to bet that it''ll be three in this one too? Three hills with three kills apiece sounds like a hidden special condition to me," Orison said lazily.


    Gan only nodded numbly, unwilling to raise his expectations again. Orison only said it to boost Gan''s flagging interest but the young mage didn''t hold much hopes towards such a weak hidden condition either. Usually easy to trigger conditions only gave awful titles and a piece of trash equipment or a small amount of gold the next time a person went through a transporter. Whatever the case, the only difference between this hill and the other two was that all three drops were low grade earth attuned magic stones.


    As they made their way back to the surface, Orison said, "There''s nothing to really complain about. In little less than nine hours we earned about two days worth of resources if we converted it all into gold. It''s actually well worth it if you think about how the earth stones can upgrade each of yours, Rithus'' and Duran''s main equipment pieces to have some extra durability and physical protection."


    Stepping out, the sight that greeted them made their scalps tingle. A wave of giant ants were swarming in from every side, slowly closing in on their location. Orison would have teleported them out but there was a crude pyramid structure made of packed dirt in the center of the three mounds. Gan and Orison looked at each other and saw the curiosity and desire to explore mirrored back at them. Silent agreement established, they both ran at full speed to the rough stone doors barely cracked wide enough for them to enter.


    Once inside the large space behind the stone double doors and seeing it was safe, they turned and put all they had into closing them only to notice that the doors wouldn''t budge. As the young mage started preparing to cast a beacon teleport, the wave of ants parted around the structure. To their amazement, the giant ants ignored the pyramid completely to reclaim their tunnels that probably hadn''t seen anything other than moles and elementals for generations.


    Once Orison and Gan used their own unique ways to check for traps and hidden areas, they approached the only thing of note in the large room lit with spectral torches. A bus sized stone slab rested in the center. To the far fall were a set of pictographs meant to serve as instructions. The people who entered the room needed to drop a little blood on the slab and guard the entrance to keep others from doing the same thing.


    Making a small cut, Orison dripped a few drops of blood onto the stone slab, lighting up a complex pattern he tried to burn into his memory to study later. Gan hurried to do the same. A sense of building anticipation was almost burned out in the ensuing silence until a gravelly voice boomed in the chamber.


    "You have successfully opened and activated the temple of greed. Bold and reckless, you know the taste of being an invader. Now know the trials and sorrows of those who only desire to defend what they have acquired. Guard the alter from other invaders and be richly rewarded. Fail and behold all that you have accomplished flow away to others." The deep and reverberating voice said.


    Within Orison and Gan, a pleasant but relatively mechanical feminine voice issued from their Osomo crystals. "Chosen hopefuls Ganga Fyrstr and Orison Cantrip have opened the beginner''s instance ''Temple of Greed''. Join them to defend a share of the prize or join others to defeat them and claim it as your own. Transport is locked and only those third degree and lower may enter ''Dire Ant Mounds''."


    As anxious as the voice had made Orison, he sighed in a bit of relief hearing that only third degree and lower would be allowed in. First through third degree was considered beginner or low range while fourth through sixth was mid range. Each degree stood for a trip to the trainer for a class or profession. There were nine total degrees but only six in any given field. A first degree specialist was considered to be a fourth degree by the system and registered as mid ranged as soon as someone stepped on to their learning path in it. Becoming a specialist was also the only way to break into the seventh degree using the trainer. Few ever reached the qualifications for high range whether they became specialists or purists who looked for a legacy.


    A transparent screen appeared in Orison''s space with a ninety minute timer. The young mage determined that the way Gan focused on and swiped at the open air, that the scout must be seeing something similar. For nearly twenty minutes nothing happened but then random names from people Gan and Orison had never heard of started appearing on their screens requesting an invitation to ''party''.


    Having some otherworldly experiences navigating user interfaces, Orison quickly figured out that the Osomo crystal had an abundance of features that weren''t taught by trainers. There were probably quite a few people who had no idea how to use them. The delay before the party requests was likely due to this fact as affluent people who knew a few of the Osomo Crystal''s secrets rushed to find family or friends to share that knowledge in the hopes of taking advantage.


    Calmly, the young mage experimented with key phrases and gestures until he figured out some of the basic functions of the transparent screen. By the time Orison had figured out how to send requests of his own, Gan started spotting figures walking into the ant mound area, past a transparent barrier that hadn''t been visible til the newcomers had made it ripple. Looking at the pictograph on the wall, the young mage noticed that there were nine figures standing in front of the slab in the pictograph but the crowd making their way to the temple easily reached over a dozen and there was more than half of the timer left.


    Orison came to a decision. Once he sent party requests to Gan, Duran and Rithus, he also sent one to the only Nunos family member that appeared eligible from his search. The young Nunos man appeared almost instantly but there was a slight delay before Orison''s other two teammates arrived. The dark green haired man immediately started barking orders but soon noticed that no one was paying any heed.


    Turning towards Orison, since he was the one actually being listened to, the man said "There''s four more slots open and there''s only a little time before the first people will get here. I have a list of names for you to accept."


    Orison looked at the young man in annoyance and said, "Cool it. You''re here as courtesy to Vivian and Ivan only. The first group that makes it through that out there will get those four spots. If you don''t like that, feel free to leave."


    The young mage no longer possessed a fey blood empowered glamour or intent at the moment but his soul was strong enough to release a weak pressure none the less. The young man blanched under the implied threat behind the sudden spiritual ''love tap''. The Nunos guardian stammered out an apology and agreed to follow orders with a watery smile.

 76 Crystal Cage 14

    As the invading group drew near, Orison shouted out across the giant ant battlefield, "Four slots still open. It''s first come, first serve. No resistance until they''re filled."


    The Nunos guardian named Aiden asked in a low voice, "Why would you offer it so randomly? These kind of things usually have a surprise twist of some kind at the end. It''s called the ''Temple of Greed'' after all. There will probably be some kind of temptation to betray and you don''t know them at all."


    Orison saw that Rithus looked curious about what he was up to as well, so he explained. "Notice that they are eyeballing each other now? They could have stayed unified until they got here, making it far easier for them to conserve strength through their fights with the ants. Now they have to worry about double crossing since four slots were offered up. Since I said it was first come, first served, they have to be wary not to let people that aren''t in their smaller groups from pulling ahead too far. Recklessness and disharmony will make them far less efficient and cause them to wear themselves out more while we''re in here well rested.


    "So what if there''s a twist at the end? There''s five of us verses four others and there''s little benefit to you turning coats for another team when you''d just make trouble for yourself at home after this is done. No matter how hard we''re working, do you think the reward is going to be something that amazing? It''s a beginner''s area. Since when is Osomo known for being overly generous? Almost everything this world offers is fairly well balanced when it comes to reward versus risk but Osomo seems to favor punishing vice and giving extra rewards for good teamwork. Am I wrong?"


    With an uncertain look on his face, Aiden replied, "Yes. It''s as you say."


    Orison chuckled. "I''m aware that the royals have a bit more privilege and exemptions but the general rule still applies."


    With less than ten minutes to go, seven bedraggled chosen were making their way up the last hundred yards. Suddenly, two full nine person teams came into view towards the edge of the mound''s boundary space. One belonged to Sek while the other was a mercenary group with no easily discernible loyalty other than to themselves.


    Upon seeing them approach, the worn out seven were all uniformly about to leave when Orison said as loudly as he could, "You''ve done so much to get here. Four of you deserve to finish your journey. There''s a representative of the Auma royal family here and our position is not too far from the capital. Those two groups of latecomers wanting to profit from your hard work can p*ss off. Not a single one will be welcomed in here."


    Two didn''t listen outright and left. Of the remaining six, one heavily injured man was bid to return by his team and a man asked his wife to return home so that their child wouldn''t have to worry about both his parents being soul faded. A shifty eyed man in Sek garb that looked at the oncoming group decided to stay and Orison doubted it had anything to do with claiming anything for himself. Even though it was just a guess and may have been flavored with prejudice, Orison decided to keep such a person out.


    Addressing the heavily injured man, Orison said, "I want you to stay. You''ve done such a damn good job of keeping your team safe all the way here that you deserve this more than the rest." Pointing at the Sek man, he continued, "I''m sorry if I''m wronging you but you need to go. If you leave me a message, I''ll send some compensation. I just can''t take the risk with Young Master Nunos in my care."


    Aiden looked at Orison like the young mage had grown a second head but kept his mouth shut. Gan looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh while Duran and Rithus wore two very different versions of poker face. Duran must have taken Orison''s words a little too much at face value as he personally went out to escort the injured man back, giving a heal as he kept himself between the injured warrior and the upset Sek man.


    With little leverage to draw from, the Sek man gave his contact information and left. While they waited for the two groups to arrive, Orison and Duran tag team healed up the group of three and the ''husband''. Aside from the guardian man from the group of three, the only other person who looked fairly reliable was the ''husband'' who was a Dracanos like Rithus. The dainty wife who was sent back home was a regular human and Orison was sure there was a great story there that he wasn''t overly interested in hearing.


    As soon as there were nine people connected with the stone slab, three elemental grudges appeared in front of the opened door facing outward. Ten foot tall animated boulders with arms, legs and a heavy presence of shadowy energy rolling of them, stared down the approaching groups. Since the grudges scared off the remaining ants, the two groups were free to come forward but they had to deal with each other before they could hold any confidence of attacking the grudges.


    In a move that set Orison''s teeth grinding, The Sek group made a transaction of some sort with the mercenary group. While the royal representative stood back with the rest of his entourage, the mercenaries went to work slaying the grudges. Not entirely sure how he''d handle the unfolding situation, Orison was surprised to see Duran step close to the door and cast some sort of damage sharing skill on one of the elementals.


    As if it had been his own idea, Orison slid seamlessly behind Duran and began healing him. Seeing the effectiveness of the strategy, Orison called the others to use whatever assists they could on the grudges. Offering aid to creatures was a first for all of them but they did so without much hesitation.


    Orison kept a hand on Duran''s back, sending an occasional healing pulse as his basic model sprites sent two trickles of healing into the other guardian who was doing the same thing for another. The Dracanos man used some kind of war cry on the grudges while the young and timid looking bard from the three person group used a song that boosted magic recovery. The last of the three person group who looked a little too young to be there didn''t do anything until one of the mercenaries tried to use an offensive ability on Duran.


    As if someone had injected the girl with chicken blood, she rushed forward and cast a mirror-like shield in front of Duran. The bolt of lightning hurled back from where it came and nearly killed the caster. From that point, it looked like it was going to turn into a bloody fight.


    Orison yelled at the top of his lungs. "This is a damn beginner zone. I don''t know what you think might be gained from this but it sure as hell isn''t worth dying for. But I swear to you, the first one of my people who fall will be answered with a vengeance. ''They'' might be called grudges but I''ll put their hatred to shame, I swear it!"


    The lightning scorched woman said to the mercenary leader, "He''s... This isn''t worth it. No matter how this turns out now, we''ll either have enemies in Auma or Sek. I don''t know about you but I''m not that fond of the desert anyway."


    The mercenary leader took in his group and then looked back at the Sek people who just looked like they were there to watch a good show and sighed. "Fall out! This has turned into a sh*t show."


    As they were getting ready to leave, Orison yelled out to the mercenary leader. "Take this bottle for your mage. No hard feelings."


    Orison deftly tossed a vial of low heal he had made during the alchemy examinations to the man. The man caught it as they started walking away. Before the Sek group put together what was going on, Orison urged Aiden forward and prompted him to speak. He hadn''t been to happy about the Nunos family member sitting on his thumbs like the Sek man had but it wouldn''t do any good to push things too far. He just leveraged some guilt onto Aiden for the green haired man''s lack of effort and pushed him forward.


    In a somewhat shaky voice, the young Nunos man said towards the approaching Sek group, "This instance is on Auma territory and is presided over by an Auma representative. Take any action and you''ll be in breach of treaty."


    The Sek leader stepped forward, just out of range of the grudges and said, "Send Orison out and let me in. That is all."


    Taking a stance like the world would bend to his word, the arrogant man was surprised when the witch girl who''d cast the mirror shield for Duran earlier, hit him with a high speed piece of magical fluff that knocked him out cold. With a huff, she folded her arms and leered at the remaining people.


    Coughing nervously, the guardian of their three person group came forward and said, "What Orison claimed earlier is right. There might be a small and nice reward for those who make it in but it certainly isn''t worth death and your leader would push the issue."


    A man came rushing forward to pull their leader out of harm''s way, getting ready to scream murder himself. He stopped himself just in time. If he had given the word to attack, Gan had an arrow ready to open a new mouth in the back of the man''s head, from the front. With their leader out cold, the group from Sek left with little hesitation. None of them actually thought what almost happened was worth it but the group was comprised of royal retainers and had little choice but to follow orders until their leader had been ''unable to give further instruction''.


    In the last few minutes of the countdown, a large group of stragglers and vulture types came by to see if there was anything worth getting involved with but none of them could form a good enough motivation to face three grudges and a group of nine people staring at them coldly through the wide crack in the double doors. Once the timer hit zero, the double doors closed.


    The gravelly voice returned. "Over time, the line between invader and defender blur but those who come to call a place home must begin to build society and rules to continue protecting what gathers there. The first of those rules is the election or crowning of a single leader or a group of them. Either step to the alter and elect the one whom you desire to determine the fate of your reward or fight to claim it by choosing yourself."


    Hearing the trap in the words, Orison had Gan vote for him, he voted for Rithus and so on until the four had elected each other equally. After some discussion, the group of three all voted for the girl, the Dracanos and Aiden''s votes were unknown to any but themselves. Once tallied, the girl''s people disappeared in a flash of cascading light along with Aiden. Orison''s group of four still stood with the girl and the Dracanos.


    The gravelly voice returned. "Ruling with the will of the people ensures stability but so too can the strong grant it. Those who chose themselves may contend with whomever they desire to claim a larger share."


    Orison bellowed, "For f***''s sake! This is fine. Dispense reward as it is!"


    The girl was about to object when the Dracanos man frowned and shook his head at her, indicating that he only wanted what was his and nothing more. With only herself to rely on, she had no choice but to accept. Her wronged expression made Orison want to slap the dizzy girl.


    Afer 90 seconds with no fighting, the gravelly voice announced that due to the presence of two royal family members, there were eleven votes on ten shares. To make the numbers right, one would have to forfeit a vote so that shares matched votes. Alternatively, someone could be eliminated by combat. Before the girl did something stupid or one of his teammates threw away their share, Orison tossed away one of the two votes Aiden''s nomination had been worth. The girl sneered as spacial pathways opened to their inventories.


    The girl alone would claim forty percent while Orison got twenty and everyone else received ten percent. None of this bothered anyone but Orison. The young mage had become incensed over the girl''s attitude. While the reward piled in, Orison reached out through the shared connection and yanked as much as he could towards his space, not through his own line but through the girl''s much larger one, taking a rough half of her reward with it. There had been more than gold in the rewards but that was all she got and was none the wiser. With one last arrogant huff, the girl turned sharply towards the temporary circle of transporter light.


    Orison held a hand of greeting out to the Draconos to slow the man down and as the man reached out and grasped Orison''s hand firmly, the young mage said, "Don''t tell anyone how much you got or what else came with it. If it can''t be avoided, say 5000 gold. It''s a nice, safe number. It''s enough for you to cut loose a little without raising eyebrows and not quite enough to move the little hearts of big monsters."


    Puzzled, the Draconos man said, "Won''t the girl know and brag? What good would covering the truth do?"


    Orison smiled widely. "She thinks around 5000 is a share."


    The Draconos man''s eyes widened. He had received nearly twice that much gold with equipment and random materials worth nearly 30k.


    Taking a moment to shake the giddiness out, the Draconos said, "The name is Emris. If you need an extra pair of hands for something with a fifty percent or better chance of survival, invite me... Oh, I don''t know if you are aware but you shouldn''t expect rewards like these from beginning areas. My older brother runs with a mid range raiding group and my share alone would count for the full run of an instance that takes a six man team to clear in a week safely."


    As they walked to the circle of light, Orison said, "If you''re not too busy, we could use some help with things it seems aren''t quite common knowledge outside of royal families. Whatever you can share is fine and I''m more than happy to repay-"


    Emris raised a large hand in friendly protest. "No need to say more. Tell me where you''ll be staying this evening and after I have ensured that my wife and child are safe, I''ll meet you there."


    "We''ll be at the Auma Commons inn after the Nunos family gets done grilling us for information," Orison said.


    The Draconos man modded at Rithus and then twisted a ring on his finger that flashed red before stepping into the circle. Before Orison stepped through, he traced the track of travel to a place north and further underground than the Auma transporter should be. Instead of stepping through, he held everyone until he constructed a beacon model and brought his group to the Auma transporter.


    He announced to his group, "The Auma royalty tried to pull us into their family estate. We''re not going anywhere until we have something to eat. It''s nearly 7:00 PM and I don''t know about you two but Gan and I haven''t had a bite since breakfast this morning."


    Roughly around a quarter hour later, as they had just began to dig into their dinner, three armed men wearing the colors of the Holy See accompanied an older gentleman and Aiden. Lurking behind them was the familiar arrogant leer of a blond haired girl with a slightly soul faded man in guardian gear and a young male bard. After seeing the rear trio, the young mage barely suppressed his irritation.


    Orison stood up and faced the older green haired man. With a slight bow and lowering of head that looked like difference to the royal family but carried an unwilling readiness to accept a challenge by Nunos custom, Orison greeted the wry smiling gentleman. Seeing that the man was just following protocol and hadn''t come with the intent to start trouble, Orison had Gan slide down a seat to offer it in difference to the older man.


    After sitting down, the older man waved the guards to relax and ordered a drink. "Don''t think much of my visit, young man. I''m only here to ask about the instance you managed to open. I''m not anyone of great importance in the family, so no need to be so formal."


    Orison smiled benignly. "So you''re not an intelligence officer who answers directly to the Matriarch. Well, that''s a load off my mind."


    The man''s smile became brittle but he managed to keep a pleasant disposition. "It''s rarely advantageous to flaunt one''s own knowledge so openly... I digress. I''m here primarily as the father of Aiden and an officer of the Holy See second, at least today."


    Orison replied, "There wasn''t much of a need for you to come at all. I would have headed to you after I finished eating and cleaned up. It didn''t seem that appropriate for me to show up dirty with a growling belly like a beggar."


    The older man, waved his hand like he was shooing away a bothersome fly. "Our family would have made you most comfortable after your arduous day. However, you frequently manage to surprise and surpass our understanding of what a returned chosen is actually capable of."


    Orison shrugged, "For whatever reason, I have a little more freedom and privilege. Maybe it''s something akin to what the royal families enjoy, I assume."

 77 Crystal Cage 15

    The intelligence officer looked blank faced for a moment, as if he''d been struck with lightning. "That... hadn''t occurred to anyone but should have. Great Mother, but that would explain a lot."


    Orison shrugged his shoulders and continued eating, secretly glancing around. Aiden looked pale at the possible revelation but not nearly as pale as the unknown royal girl who looked like she might faint.


    Orison pointed at her with his fork. "Which royal house does that one belong to?"


    As the girl''s companions helped her to a seat and ordered her refreshments the Nunos elder said, "She''s the fifth princess of his majesty, King Zither of Fortune. Those followers of hers may be her royal retainers but to Osomo, she''s the retainer of the young bard over there. You see, being royal means a great deal many things but it doesn''t extend indefinitely. Each of three current generations is entitled to three offspring who will be guaranteed to be born chosen. That status lasts for a third of their lifetime. Three, nine and twenty-seven for a total of thirty-nine royal members per the three houses.


    "In days long past, there was once nine houses but according to legend three fell from grace and three others were lost. Our great mother is fair and constant but nothing lasts forever. One day, our houses will also join the fallen and lost to be replaced by new ones... possibly old ones returned. What is your opinion on that?"


    Orison shook his head. "Asking a person an opinion on matters he''s ignorant of isn''t that useful. If you need to hear something just to say you did, I''d say that I''m not a returned noble but maybe some other kind of privileged individual. I doubt Osomo places all trust and authority into the hands of secular powers destined for corruption and infighting."


    The older man laughed, "That is offensively blunt but undeniably true. The oldest records speak of a time when the royal families were little more than the most trusted and favored servants of a great, unifying force. Do you think that if such a force were to return that they''d be disappointed in us?"


    Orison sighed. "I thought this was an informal kind of thing. I didn''t expect you to start baiting me into making myself into an enemy of all the royals... I don''t think that such a force should have any expectations after having been gone for so long. If they did return, the only loyalty that they should expect is what they earn through force or benefits. A reasonable balance of both would be ideal, I suppose.


    "Before this goes on any further, let me get the original concerns out of the way. Here''s your transfer of one share, Aiden. I know it should be two but considering that I had to give one away for the sake of peace and the most meaningful thing you did was not cause trouble, I think that''s more than fair."


    Reaching out to briefly touch wrist backs, Aiden stammered out his agreement with a little embarrassment before fading into the background again.


    Orison continued, "Here''s a list of all the knowledge I can give on how the instance was triggered and my thoughts on the hows and whys of things. It''s a nasty little test, if you ask me. It''s no wonder that it fell out of use and ended up being forgotten. It''s rich rewards were likely a one time thing. I believe that there was just a great deal of accumulation after having been dormant for such a long time. And since it practically begs the participants to fight each other, it''s probably best re-forgotten."


    While the intelligence officer sifted through the scrawled notes Orison had made while waiting for his food, Aiden came up to him and gave the young mage his father''s name and working title to make things a little less awkward.


    After Deacon Bran finished reading Orison''s notes, he said, "Quite satisfactory. The family will probably play with the place for awhile but if everything here is accurate then you''re right. It might be fine if that area could be controlled completely by one unified group of people but that''s a direct violation of the treaty between royal houses and the reason why the royal family that predates Fortune, fell. The Great Mother despises hoarding and wasting to the equal degree she abhors wanton killing."


    Orison thought to himself, "Well, yeah. It messes up the efficiency of the soul farming cycle. Your great mother is nothing more than a powerful artifact with a built in supercomputer that has lots of neat programs installed. It might be an ugly way to think about it but the people of this world aren''t much better than ignorant livestock. "It wouldn''t be so bad if Osomo didn''t practically strip everything away before rebirthing the souls in its artificial reincarnation cycle. I can''t imagine how powerful a person or group would have to be to make such a thing. All of the combine gifts and talents of my group and it would likely take years just to perfectly replicate a crystal spark!"


    Orison asked the Deacon, "There are five capitals, right? If Sek, Fortune and Auma are the only ones with actual royal families then what is the deal with Thoth and Daub?"


    Bran rubbed his bristly chin. "An astute question but it exposes a critical hole in your thinking. There are many recognized royal families and independent nations spread throughout Osomo. There are only three remaining ones who are directly blessed by the Great Mother, you see. Royal treaty means a lot more than just treaties between the three blessed families.


    "Thoth''s royal family holds it''s recognition as one of the five great houses due to it''s strong ties with Fortune. Daub is in a similar support situation with Auma. The rest is terribly complicated and boring."


    For the rest of the meal, Bran relayed bits and pieces of relatively common information and answered a few questions about things someone born and raised in Osomo would know. There was a tacit understanding that this was Bran''s way of returning the favor of including his son in Orison''s discovery. Although it wasn''t spoken of directly, the young mage became aware that the Nunos family held him in high regard. Due to a power struggle between the current matriarch and her nephew, however, that regard had little practical use.


    With Drey recovering from spiritual damage and Ivan joining his sister in the Matriarch''s camp, the old woman''s political rival was having a hard time. The man''s vulgar display of greed and disregard for tradition during the yearly rut challenge did a lot of damage to his reputation as well. That meant positive things for Orison and his group because it meant that the man was far too busy trying to shore losses and doing damage control to mess with the young mage and his friends.


    As Bran wrapped things up and made his way out, Orison was getting a clear picture that his high profile way of dealing with the situation here had given him a great deal more freedom to act as he wished but had earned him trouble in the shadows. For the sake of his group, he needed to learn a little self restraint. He also needed better areas for him and his group to progress out of the public eye. The last was a problem the young mage hoped that the Draconos man, who had been patiently waiting at the bar for a few minutes, could help him deal with.


    After setting up a room for the night, Orison let his group get to loot trading early with a promise to join them shortly. As Gan and Duran made their way upstairs, Rithus decided to join Orison for the conversation with Emris. As a fellow sufferer of racial identity crisis, Orison not only could empathize but encouraged the two to talk first. It was great that Osomo gave such a convenient excuse of spawning amnesia to make such conversations completely free of awkward questions.


    As Orison plied the two with a little social lubricant in the way of a local specialty wine, he relaxed into a passive listening partner for awhile as Emris gave Rithus the breakdown. Aside from being the distant descendant of dragons, the young mage could care less about the history of the Draconos history and only keyed back in when information that was useful to the group as a whole came up. Dumping Osomo trash mechanics about Rithus'' new race, it was interesting that the Draconos had a couple minor innate spirit essence abilities that were lineage dependent.


    Once Rithus figured out his lineage, he could appeal to join a clan. Emris offered to introduce Rithus to his own but wasn''t pushy about it. Unlike some of the other races, Emris'' people weren''t that fertile but held a dominant genetic disposition when interbreeding. As Emris explained that tidbit, Orison also found out about the genetic hierarchy of this world. Draconos were at the top and humans were at the bottom. Due to possessing nearly universal genetic compatibility with the intelligent races, humans were generally accepted everywhere but for some reason elves were not as keen on joining with humans as they once were and a good deal of other fey creatures shared that sentiment.


    Once done with their info share, Rithus made his way to join Duran and Gan. For the next hour or so, Orison was filled in about other capitals that were on another transporter circuit and where the joining hubs were. He also learned some more about the crystal spark''s functions. The more he heard, the more Orison felt that the main creative person behind the creation of Osomo was inspired by RPGs.


    The game-like qualities of this world were nothing more than a mask for its insidiousness in Orison''s mind. Spawning dulled the threat of death and the instinctual fear of risk taking that existed within intelligent beings. The constant reinforcement from Osomo''s song of motherly love each life cycle of Chosen kept the general populace from looking for alternative answers for existential questions. Even if Orison''s guess that this world was once a training facility turned out to be true, it was just as true that key pieces of information were hidden.


    Whatever information that would turn the relatively hollow higher end abilities and skills into something more personally enriching was likely only available to those who swore loyalty to the original owners. Without that theoretical owner present to dispense such vital information, this world was nothing more than an accumulating jackpot that one fortunate outsider would one day collect or Osomo would eventually give in to the vicissitudes of time and have a fatal collapse. Either way, when that day came, everyone here would meet a sudden and tragic end.


    The young mage had to admit that as far as dystopian existences went, this one was rather well made and relatively pleasant. In their blissful ignorance, the residents of this world were safe from plague and famine, sheltered from self inflicted global crisis or suffering lingering consequences from the mismanagement of natural resources. They weren''t subjected to much conflict from any number of rampant prejudices that typically sprang from a multitude of faiths and nationalities either. Despite all that, Orison didn''t envy them at all. Everyone''s path through their endless cycle of lives were paved out while nearly all aspects of it were closely micromanaged like an overbearing bully of a helicopter parent that never let go.


    Orison had little desire to pursue breaking the lock off this crystal cage for anyone other than himself and his companions but he didn''t mind planting a few seeds of possibility if they presented themselves. In the effort to ''climb'' out of this place, he might stumble on a few of the world''s secrets. They would make nice presents for those who helped him and his people along the way.


    As an afterthought, once Emris was done playing school teacher, Orison invited him to the party''s room for some loot swapping. The equipment and resource drops were incredibly random and before slowly trickling their unwanted possessions into shops, everyone would benefit from seeing if someone else had things they wanted or needed first.


    Relatively uncaring about trying to get the absolute best out of what he wore, Orison switched out his unisex mage garb and feminine jewelry for a full set of gear more suited to a rogue style adventurer. He lost little in the exchange as set gear tended to create well rounded bonuses rather than focused ones in the lower range. The decision was made even easier by the fact that Emris was interested in everything that Orison had previously worn and made good deals for it.


    Once he was satisfied, Emris excused himself from the proceedings fairly quickly. "If I take much longer to get back, I may have troubles of a different nature to deal with at home. If you''ve nothing better to attend to, Orison, I and my wife can run you through a beginner''s raid dungeon. It''s near Snow Cap far to the north of the five capitals. I can''t promise that it will be a good run but it''s relatively safe and a good place to practice and learn in."


    Orison nodded, trying not to look overly eager. "It would be nice to get away from here for a bit anyway. Rithus and Duran have a couple of days left for their instruction period but after that we really don''t have any solid plans."


    Once the Dragonos left, Orison shared all he had learned about the Osomo crystal and its functions with Gan and Rithus, letting the latter examine the purified one. Surprisingly, Duran wanted to as well.


    Just realizing an important oversight, Orison asked Duran, "How did you answer the invitation? Your shard only has the models for identification, transporter and trainer usage."


    Duran said, "Wick followed Rithus."


    Rithus filled in, "I told him that you invited me. I broke my hand loom when that floating square came up and when I was asked what happened I told Duran''s instructor about the floating square. The shadow in my bones told me that you wanted Duran too so I told the instructor that we had both been invited. I didn''t expect to be pulled to you through the circle in that place but..."


    Orison looked at Duran nervously when the boy put the crystal into Wick''s inner plane.


    Duran looked at Orison blandly and said, "I won''t eat it."


    A few moments later, the crystal appeared in Duran''s hand and he gave it back. Orison quickly put the crystal back into his space.


    Anticipating Orison''s questions and the painfulness of getting Duran to answer them, Rithus chimed in, "I think Wick can pick up anything that is sent at Duran spiritually. He will not have much trouble with that part of not having a complete crystal at least."


    Orison gave Rithus a grateful smile and then chuckled as he remembered his own guesswork about how Rithus ''climbed''. Rithus smiled back but didn''t comment further. Putting random thoughts away, Orison turned to the matter of how they would unload the rest of the unneeded equipment.


    When Orison began discussing the best way to sell their loot, both Rithus and Duran gave twin looks of pained reluctance. It seemed there were quite a few resources that Rithus wanted to collect and equipment that Duran wanted to study/digest. That suited the young mage fine. They weren''t hurting for funds at the moment and the less unneeded junk there was to get rid of, the less likely it would draw unwanted attention.


    With all the business and pleasure of the late evening out of the way, it was time to call it a day. One by one they took turns cleaning up in the bathroom and turned in but once Orison was done, his head spinning with a myriad of thoughts about the past and future, he took a walk instead. Fortunately for the young mage, Auma sported a large and scenic park that never closed.


    As he strolled about untangling the knots in his head and trying his best to plot a course forward, Orison took in the beautiful scenery. With an occasional use of spirit sight, he managed to avoid getting too close to areas being used for much less contemplative purposes but didn''t entirely manage to avoid a random pleased sigh or flirtatious giggle. He couldn''t help but feel a little melancholy as he continued his stroll through a place designed to be enjoyed with another but there wasn''t any better place for a nightly stroll that wouldn''t encourage strange looks or frequent disruptive run-ins with guard patrols.


    Obviously the park had them as well but the passing guards wouldn''t question someone for a nightly walk there. People who kept night hours often frequented the park for a chance at casual interaction otherwise difficult to obtain or to help indulge a racy couple who wanted a little spice in their romantic trysts. The place was big enough to support those needs and still have a designated route for lonely contemplation and by the time he had hit his second round, Orison figured that route out and easily avoided the embarrassing situations he had nearly stumbled into his first round.


    On his third round, Orison grew tired of scenic viewing and turned to Titania and Oberon for distraction. Manipulating a bit of the more frivolous parts of their design, he discovered that they would interact with each other and their environment in amusing ways. Flirting, courting and even arguing could be initiated. The more he invested in it, the more life-like they became. It boggled his mind how complex and diverse the smallest parts of their design was and wondered at the sad life of the woman who made them.


    Increasingly more engrossed in his manipulation and interaction with them, Orison nearly bodily ran into someone walking from the opposite direction. Looking up he saw the conflicted face of Ivan who had just parted ways with a woman still visible in the distance. By the way she was striding off, things hadn''t seemed to go the way she had hoped because there was some stiffness in her steps that denoted irritation or maybe even anger.

 78 Crystal Cage 16

    Caught in a situation, he couldn''t pretend not to have noticed, Orison said with false cheer, "It looks like I ran into you at a bad time, almost literally. Maybe I should take that as a sign I should get back to the inn and try to get some rest. Sorry for disturbing you."


    As Orison turned to go, Ivan said, "Wait. Come with me f- No, sorry. Due to family and occupation, common courtesy isn''t a thing I get to exercise much. If it''s not too much trouble, could I have a little of your time?"


    Orison struggled to find a way to deny the guard captain but lacking a reasonable excuse when he was obviously pleasure strolling, he decided it was better to get whatever unpleasantness this would be, over with.


    Exercising his rusty ability with politeness, Ivan lead the young mage to a nearby private area.


    After motioning the young mage to sit at one of the two granite game benches, the guard captain sat across from him and began talking. "I''ve been dealing with some personal issues after the challenge this year." Seeing that Orison was about to get up and leave, he quickly added, "I only bring that up because I mistakenly thought other things that were happening to me were just extensions of that. It''s those things I want to talk with you about."


    "Just so we''re clear, Ivan, I have no desire to hear anything about what happened at the challenge. If anything you have to say is about that, I can''t help you because I remember nothing and I''m pretty sure I want it to stay that way," Orison said tersely.


    A bitter grimace drifted across his face as Ivan said, "Believe me when I say I envy your ignorance. No, I won''t bring up the challenge but I have questions I hope you can answer. If not for me, I hope that you''ll answer them for Vivian''s sake."


    With a stab of genuine concern that was strong enough to surprise him, Orison asked, "Is she alright? If anything''s wrong, I-"


    Ivan made a shooing motion with his hand. "Nothing''s wrong. Things have just been... different. I was hoping you might be able to help us understand."


    Orison wanted to ask why Vivian didn''t come to him with any concerns herself but that would likely lead the conversation into awkward areas as well.


    Seeing that the young mage still looked reluctant but didn''t show any intentions of bolting off, Ivan explained. "Four days ago, for about ten minutes, our connection with Osomo''s heart was severed. When it came back, we still felt a sense of no longer belonging to her. We also don''t have some of the royal privileges we once did but certain restrictions have been removed. For about a day after that we shared inventory space but now it''s separate again and we can feel it, like it''s a part of us.


    "Our bloodline is stronger and so are our fey gifts. Everyone except for grandma doesn''t even really feel like family anymore. I won''t bother talking about all the small physical changes directly but it would be a comfort if you have some insights into that."


    Orison mulled over what and how much was safe for him to tell Ivan, then said. "Can I examine you with spirit sight without you freaking out on me?"


    Wordlessly, Ivan put his armor away in his inventory and took his shirt off. As Orison stood up and walked around the table, Ivan stored the rest of his clothes into his inventory and laid on the granite table before Orison could stop him. Being that it would take more time to explain why that wasn''t necessary and cause needless embarrassment than it would to just to get it over with, the young mage didn''t bother.


    Sighing at Ivan''s overly dramatic ''casting couch scam victim'' expression, Orison touched the guard captain''s heart chakra point and let a trickle of spiritual essence flow through Ivan''s spiritual barrier as gently as he could. The first thing the young mage noticed was the chaotic imitation of his own space trying to stabilize as a mix of other influences tried to express themselves. A touch of sympathy wormed it''s way into Orison''s thoughts as he realized that Ivan was not too different in this moment as the young mage had been in the beginning of his own ''key'' awakening. What was worse, Ivan didn''t have the benefit of choosing for himself and was likely to dangerously stumble around in the dark until he figured it out or died.


    The young mage said in a dire tone, "I can explain what''s happening fairly easy but there''s consequences for doing so if I can''t trust you. Before I say a word, I need you to make what will be one of the most important decisions of your life. I can break the cause of the changes and what you have will give you an additional small strengthening to your bloodline. I won''t explain anything but things will go back to much the way that they were before after some time goes by.


    "The alternative is that I can help stabilize what''s happening and you''ll become a person who has the ability to rise beyond this world. Once you step on that path, it''s difficult to leave it and you''ll have to cut ties with all that you know and are familiar with. If you change your mind afterwards, the only way that you''ll be right with Osomo again is to permanently die and be stripped of what you have. If you die at all, a respawn will greatly diminish your chances at ascending."


    Less than three breaths later, Ivan said, "The second one."


    Orison sighed. "Either you''re taking this too lightly or you''re an incredibly decisive person."


    Flashing a confident smile up at the young mage, Ivan repeated himself. "The second one."


    Since the space inside Ivan was an imitation of his own and made with essence that was originally his, Orison had no trouble guiding it into a stable cycle. Once it all had a place to be and some direction to follow, Orison held back some of the essence tide to keep it from breaking Ivan''s first tendrils of latticework. Watching all the parts click into a cohesive whole, Orison noted that Ivan''s space wasn''t completely like his own.


    Orison''s own space was deeply flavored with the concepts of transmutation and dimension. Ivan had a bit of the second but very little of the first. Instead, the wild fey descendant had a great deal of life and death aspects. For a brief moment, the young mage had to hold back his own space from blindly reaching out to devour Ivan''s. As a mutually beneficial compromise, while Orison steadily released his hold on the essence tide within Ivan, he studied the infant space. To reciprocate, he allowed some crystal dust that was saturated with his concepts to flow into Ivan.


    At some point, Orison had lost focus in what he had originally set out to do as his sub-mind made deeper analysis. Distantly, the young mage was aware that Ivan had begun doing the same using a different method but neither saw the harm in the helpful exchange. Goodwill and trust established, while logic and higher reasoning functions were busy making the most of the exchange, subconscious and instinct were facilitating better connections.


    There was a certain addictive euphoria to what they were doing that kept the exchange going past the small bumps and scrapes of conflicting thought and major conflicts were simply not present. Ivan''s deep desire for power was satisfied with gains through Orison''s more profound and ability rich spiritual existence. Similarly, Orison''s deep desire to unravel mystery for greater understanding was sated by the root of Ivan''s ancestral power. If not for outside interruption, they would have continued long past what would have been healthy for either of them.


    Day had broken for nearly an hour and Gan had woken up to find his ''Little Boss'' missing. Elsewhere, one of Ivan''s subordinates went searching for him to report that the captain''s grandmother had requested his presence. When that subordinate had arrived, Gan had stopped him by stating that the captain was in a meeting of a personal nature. Being that nothing good ever came from a subordinate butting into a Nunos family member''s private affairs, especially one that took place in a secluded area of the park, the man had struck up an awkward and subdued conversation with Gan as they waited. When the guy had cracked a small joke, Gan acted like it was the funniest thing he had heard in his life and started braying loudly, slapping the tree next to him with dislodging force.


    The sudden loud noises disturbed Orison and Ivan''s trace-like state enough to realize the implications of what they had done and what they might have ended up doing if they had continued. Both of them were mature enough not to overreact or do something that would embarrass the other but it was obvious what had happened wasn''t something either of them would have consciously chosen to do. While Orison helped them both clean off some impurities that had been expelled, he expressed that a little unintentional skinship wasn''t anything to get knotted up about and Ivan returned that the gains were worth a lot more than slightly bruised dignity.


    Changing topics, Orison explained a bit about ''climbing the tower'' and ''keys''. After passing on the message that Lily had repeated about sharing too much being a bad thing, Orison said that he''d be in touch after Ivan had some time to adjust and explore all the newness. Right before they parted ways, the young mage ask Ivan to pass on the choice to Vivian and that if she was interested in ''the second one'' then Orison would do what he could to help.


    On their way back to the inn, Gan broke the silence with a little ambiguous support. "That Ivan''s a strong and dependable looking fellow."


    Orison looked at Gan dully and said, "A fact his future girlfriends or wife will appreciate, I''m sure."


    Gan nodded in sad understanding, "It went that bad, huh?"


    Ignoring Gan''s meaning, Orison replied as if he''d misunderstood, "Not really. The spirit sight examination lead to us accidentally discovering how to, for lack of better term, dual cultivate. It''s definitely something neither of us will be attempting with each other again. That''s for damn sure."


    Looking puzzled, Gan said, "But he was hug-"


    "I know what it looked like, Gan!... Sorry. Normally I''d be able to laugh something like that off but it''s a little too soon for me at the moment," Orison said, feeling a bit guilty for snapping.


    A bit sheepishly, Gan said, "Is it safe to ask what dual cultivation is?"


    Orison sighed and said, "Yes, but let''s wait til we''re in our room and I''ll explain what I figured out to everyone so I don''t have to repeat it."


    Once everyone had a chance to do their morning rituals and finished breakfast, Orison lead everyone back upstairs to explain what he had discovered before Rithus and Duran returned to finish up their instruction.


    Girding up his mental fortitude, Orison said, "Through a bizarre twist, I think I figured out something that probably isn''t that appropriate for tower climbers to do but might be important to one of you in the future. If you find someone with a ''key'' that''s highly compatible with yours and you''re, uh, close with them..."


    Before he continued, Orison already realized what kind of misunderstanding the way he was trying to explain dual cultivation might happen with Duran or Rithus, either one. "By close, I mean in a ''don''t want to live without them because of love'' kind of way...In the rare, not very likely, chance that you fall in love with someone who has a complimentary climbing method to you... Then it''s possible to synchronize your key with them." the young mage described as best he could how to do so.


    He finished with, "Most of what I''ve said is based off of an accidentally initiated attempt that wasn''t finished. In spite of the benefits, if it''s completed, you would have essentially married someone you can''t simply part ways with if things don''t work out because part of the two of you will exist in the other."


    As he looked around at his three companions, Orison noticed that a faint spiritual wave was coming off of Duran and the boy was smiling while holding a hand to his chest.


    Not really able to help himself, Orison asked the boy, "Are you dual cultivating with Wick?"


    Duran nodded. "I need Wick."


    The young mage could tell that there was so much meaning packed into those three words that it had turned something simple into something so terribly complex his insight couldn''t actually understand it all.


    After Rithus and Duran had left, Gan said, "Do you need to rest or are you good to go?"


    Orison said, "Neither. I need about an hour or so to consolidate my understandings and then we should spend some time getting back to the basics. There''s a training facility here and I intend to spend a couple of days to keep Morrel''s teachings from getting rusty and work on my summoning models some."


    Gan hesitated for a moment then said, "If it''s alright, I thought I''d take a day or two off from training and maybe try my hand at finding a friend."


    The young mage nodded, "Yeah, happy hunting. When we go to Snow Cap, it might be a lot harder to find, er, a friend than it would be here... Oh, before you go, take my share of the junk equipment with you."


    Over the next couple of days, Orison untangled insights and worked the imaginary kinks out of his body. Using the Osomo crystal''s messaging system, the group appraised each other of their situations and as everyone finished up their official and personal business, all was well. The only thing that bugged Orison was the lack of communication from either Nunos sibling.


    On the morning before the group''s trip to Snow Cap, Orison swallowed a little pride and reached out to Ivan rather than just remaining in the dark. If there hadn''t been a mostly superficial mark of Ivan''s left on his soul''s outer layer, the young mage would have just thought that he''d been blown off but he could tell that his message hadn''t completed. Minor annoyance and curiosity ratcheted up a notch to actual concern when a similar result happened after sending a message to Vivian that he had exercised with a strong push of spirit sight to follow.


    Anticipating trouble, The young mage brought his team to the hub that connected the ''Heaven Circuit'' that Snow Cap was a part of, to the ''Earth Circuit'' that contained the five great capitals. As Orison constructed an ''invite transport'', he scanned the surrounding circle of mercantile and leisure buildings that surrounded the capital city sized transporter. Other than noting the greatly increased number of non human and elf populations, there wasn''t much of interest or anything that stuck out as needing to be wary of.


    With a max effort push of spiritual intent, Orison breached through whatever interference was stopping his communication with Ivan using the soul mark as a back door. Moments later, a pleasant but slightly mechanical feminine voice echoed a confirmation of the invite and Ivan came stumbling out of the transporter''s light curtain dressed in extremely plain clothes. In just two days, Ivan''s demeanor had transformed from nearly arrogant confidence to grim melancholy.


    While constructing another invite model, Orison asked, "Is Vivian in danger?"


    Ivan shook his head, looking a touch more bitter. "She''s fine. She''s better than fine. Grandmother has named her heir apparent and was in the process of transferring the ''unneeded'' parts of your gift from her to me and trying to strip the wanted parts from me to give to her."


    Orison was stunned. "I''d ask how but this isn''t the time. Was your sister willingly participating in this?"


    Recovering his equilibrium at an admirable pace, Ivan replied, "The giving part, yes. There was little harm in that after she''d made her decision. The stripping part, she wasn''t happy about it but grandmother could always get Vivian to take her side in any argument."


    Finished constructing the transport model and seeing no reason to change plans since Vivian wasn''t in need of rescuing, Orison moved them to Snow Cap. The group quickly made their way to a lodge that had been paid for in advance. Before moving to get the fireplace going, Rithus snatched a folded quilt off a couch and draped it over the slightly shivering Nunos man''s shoulders, earning himself a another bit of easily earned gratitude.


    After a message from Emris interrupted Orison''s brooding, the young mage turned to Ivan. "Tell me, how much sh*t am I in for yanking you out of there?"


    Ivan, lost in his own thoughts, focused on Orison and said, "Short term, none. Grandmother isn''t a person who acts quickly unless the need is dire. Long term, I don''t honestly know. I think you reaching me through the wards and ruining a few hundred-thousand in ritual supplies will give her a measured amount of caution. Thank you for that. I didn''t fancy being turned into a soul faded and powerless man-child."


    "Your own grandmother could be that ruthless to you?" Orison asked.


    Ivan smiled bitterly. "There''s not a lot grandmother wouldn''t due to ensure the future of the Nunos family. No less than three days ago, I might have even considered the sacrifice worth it. But once you lit the fire of ambition in me, it was difficult to resign myself so easily."


    Orison smiled weakly, "You''re welcome... How far did the ritual get?"


    Eyes unfocused, Ivan said, "Far enough for Vivian to be reclaimed by Osomo. Not far enough to do more than undo some of the healing on my damaged spiritual intent. Combined with the forced shedding of antlers this year, I probably won''t be able to grow a decent set next year. All minor and relatively unimportant things in the broad view."


    Before the conversation could proceed further, there was a heavy pounding at the door that put everyone on edge. With weapons drawn and spells at the ready, Rithus moved to open it, tensed for sudden retreat if necessary.

 79 Crystal Cage 17

    Once Rithus opened the door, the group was immediately beset by the most formidable, nearly impossible assault to counter. A generously curved Draconos woman in her late twenties, with black cherry colored hair and dark chocolate eyes started chewing them out for not signing in at the rental office. Rithus gave an attempt to quell the woman''s wrath by explaining that one of their group was in strong need of shelter and warmth as soon as possible.


    "Honestly, sometimes the sheer idiocy of some five capital people still manages to amaze me. Did you think this place was called Snow Cap because we like powdered sugar? Whichever one of you is Orison, get your pimpled a** to the rental office and sign the book. Bring a hundred gold deposit with you as well. You can have that back as long as no one breaks anything or leaves too big of a mess for my staff to clean up." Wound down, the woman shut the door with measured force.


    Ivan sighed wistfully, "It''s a shame she''s married. A successful chase after a woman with a little fire in her would do me a lot of good right now."


    Rithus said, "She''s a widow. Her husband''s scent is almost gone on her."


    Orison furrowed his eyebrows at Rithus'' direction. "You and Duran haven''t had a chance to sell your extra gear yet, right? Do you think you can cobble together something presentable for Ivan before he tries to beat me in a race to the rental office?"


    As Duran and Rithus started combing through their inventory, Orison made his way to the door.


    Before the young mage was even halfway through it, Ivan said, "Don''t try to steal a march on me."


    Feeling his blood pressure rise a bit, Orison addressed the Nunos man before closing the door in much the same manner as the woman before him had. "I don''t have a habit of going around trying to find iron plates to kick. Give me a few minutes to finish my official business with the lady before you come trying to start some of your own."


    On his way to the rental office, Orison muttered irritably to himself about having the bad luck of possibly having found Venito''s twin. Internally, he knew that Ivan was just trying to distract himself and likely wasn''t that serious. The young mage would hate to cut the poor guy loose with no support but if Ivan managed to find more trouble trying to avoid dealing with the ones the Nunos man already had, Orison wasn''t willing to play babysitter to a time bomb.


    Orison wordlessly walked into the office and signed the book that was shoved across the counter at him. As he offered the back of his wrist to the woman, she scowled at him. Sighing, he removed 300 gold and set it neatly on the counter before the woman claimed it.


    After she gave him the breakdown for service and the location of the town canteen if they were interested in having someone else prepare and deliver meals to their cabin, Orison said, "If anyone shows up asking after me or Ivan, that''s the green haired guy, send me a message before escorting them over. There''s the possibility of unpleasant dealings and I figure it would be better to be upfront about it than being taken by surprise. If you won''t do it as courtesy, then do it in concern to your property."


    Raising a well shaped eyebrow at him, she said, "I appreciate the candidness. You''re paid up for ten days. Since you were honest with me, I''ll not raise a fuss but I''d be grateful if you moved along as soon as any trouble does come. We can consider whatever unused days as my hazard pay. That''s a long-term and repeatable offer as long as you''re in good standing and pay by the week minimum."


    On his way out the door, Orison decided to do some preemptive damage control. "I don''t know how serious he was being but Ivan showed some interest in trying his hand at earning your favor. Try not to cripple him. He''s actually just been through some seriously hurtful stuff and I think he''s just trying to keep his mind off it."


    She offered Orison a razor blade smile that gave him a slight chill. "I won''t pull the knuckle dusters out as long as he keeps his hands to himself."


    Inspired, Orison closed the door and turned back towards her. "Are you a close combat specialist?"


    Warily, the woman said, "What would a Chosen care about what one of The Children train themselves in?"


    Orison chuckled. "This one, and a great deal if it''s unarmed combat. I have some traditional training but no one in my party is a good sparring partner. Rithus, that''s the Draconos, has some of the same training but it''s not a passion for him. That training has saved my life more than once and since I''m a double magic, it''s my last line of defense."


    Looking at him dubiously, the woman said, "I''m not interested in being someone''s sand bag or giving another man free license to get handsy with me."


    The young mage rubbed his forehead and said, "Admittedly, you are a beautiful woman but I''m in the wrong head space and you''re obviously not interested in romance. What I want is a sparring partner who''s better than me at close quarter fighting so I can improve. Ten gold an hour paid in advance and either of us can call it quits when it suits them, advance pay forfeited. Any necessary healing will be covered by me. If you knock me out, Duran can cast a basic heal as well. That''s the kid with short, brown hair and a surly disposition."


    She thought it over and said, "Twenty an hour, five hours advanced and only striking for the first hour. We can move on to grapples after I''ve assured myself you''re not trying to pull some kind of stupid game on me. I can spare two hours after the office closes tonight at eight."


    Without thinking about it, Orison offered the back of his wrist again but before he lowered it, the woman tapped the back of hers against it and said, "It would be petty about tapping wrists when my fist will be kissing your face later."


    As he transferred the hundred gold, Orison laughed nervously. "That''s the spirit, I guess. It''d probably be a good idea to have a name to call you. A safe word might not be out of the question either."


    "People around here call me Ruby... A safe word, you say?" The Draconos lady laughed heartily for a moment before she sobered and said in a lightly sad nostalgia, "Anything but buttercup. I can''t imagine a situation where a standard three time tap out won''t due, though."


    Orsion said, "I only used it once a long time ago but ''red light'' for stop, ''green light'' for good to go and ''yellow'' for a courtesy check''.


    Looking at him oddly, Ruby asked, "What''s a courtesy check for?"


    The young mage had a flashback to a small karate dojo from another life. "During sparring, someone might have a piece of equipment that needs adjustment or might even be showing the world something they''d rather not. It''s just a way of calling the other person''s attention to the need for a quick adjustment without a possibly embarrassing explanation."


    The woman smiled and nodded in approval. "That''s surprisingly considerate. It must have been mixed training. Men are rarely that nice to each other."


    Orison shook his head. "The instructor''s daughter was the only girl there and she rarely sparred. More often than not, it would be for the safety equipment. It wasn''t that serious of a class. Practically cheap evening babysitting for the neighborhood and a parent would come unglued if a kid came home with a black eye or busted lip. I didn''t learn much from it but I made some good friends and we had a lot of fun. Back then, that''s all that really mattered."


    Not really conscious of doing so, Ruby sneered and said, "What kind of soft place was that?"


    Orison smiled wryly and replied, "Another world, another life. The kind of safe and happy place that seems more like a fairy tale than something real to me, now."


    While the young mage made his way back to the cabin, he couldn''t help but feel a little sad that the idea of a carefree childhood was so against the grain here that it would be openly despised. In an odd mood, Orison changed into his exercise clothes after the rest of the group went to go check out the town and grab some supplies. Stepping outside into the windless but biting cold, the young mage pulled out and dusted off his memories of those early days of martial arts training to see what he could make of it.


    It was an absolute mess, at first. The more he went through the basic form he knew, the more coherent it became but other than giving a little inspiration, it wasn''t that compatible with Morrel''s teachings. Even a little inspiration was still helpful and recognizing this, Orison started combing through his hole filled ''Al'' memories.


    Constructing and reenacting some of the flashier moves commonly seen from the more major martial arts were fun and did add some potential for surprise variation but not much else. From the small amount of Aikido some guy he thought may have been a boyfriend of Al''s sister, had demonstrated, it was just enough to realize that it would have been compatible. The real surprise was when, more for fun than anything else, Orison ran through a round of Tai Chi Al had dabbled with for a couple of months along with some elderly people at a park before he had snagged the job that had crushed his free time and pretty much ruined his life.


    The combination of movement and visualization began stimulating something that his sub-mind aided him in analyzing. What it revealed was a clue to a potential ''key'' that didn''t fit into his own path but the knowledge of it, he tucked away. Not willing to leave such a pleasant discovery to simple theory for another''s potential benefit in the future, he tried to integrate similar visualization into the oddly ritualistic ''Red River'' exercise portion of the Emerald Heart training.


    When combined with magic, the blood circulation and limbering portions filled him with greater stamina and could support a short but significant boost of speed until the bodily stored magic ran out. When trying any portion of the exercise with spiritual essence, his aura immediately drew down and condensed against his skin. Continuing to experiment with spirit, he discovered that the blood circulation and limbering portions would draw the essence into his marrow and nurture the blue motes of light in his marrow. During the muscle conditioning portions, the essence would penetrate deeply into the tissue with the lactic acid buildup and drive out minute amount of toxins while conditioning the body in ways that were too small to observe, much less understand.


    While Orison had been lost in self observation, the group had returned. Gan was long numb to seeing Orison''s training and Duran similarly held little interest. Ivan, however, was fascinated and when the young mage had finished a set and looked up, the green haired man wasn''t the only one watching. The ex-Marshlander also had been watching with rapt attention.


    Rithus said, "I need to tell you something but I''m not supposed to say it for others to hear."


    Both of them could tell that Ivan was filled with questions but the Nunos man had enough tact not to ask after realizing that he had witnessed something that pertained to personal secrets. To display the minor of amount of irritation he had, the green haired man loudly proclaimed his intent to flirt with the proprietress and then go get a drink with or without her. Considering it was only a little after midday, Orison told the Ivan that Ruby would be working until eight. Without looking back, Ivan stiffly changed trajectory and headed back towards the canteen.


    "He had money?" Orison asked.


    Rithus shook his head and said, "He borrowed some from Duran."


    As the young mage lead them away from the cabins towards a hill where a person couldn''t easily overhear without being spotted first, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "It''s the boy''s gold. Let him do what he wants with it."


    Once they reached their destination, Rithus said in a low voice, "Morrel couldn''t tell you this part due to an old oath but I was told if you could discover the part you just did on your own, I was allowed to tell you the rest."


    For the next half hour Rithus led Orison through the mantra and visualizations. They were a rather simple thing but if a practitioner didn''t know about them, chances of discovery were quite low. In reality, it was a good thing that the young mage had figured it out by himself first because after comparing what he had done and what the mantra''s instructions held, he could easily double the efficiency due to having followed the pathways in a more natural manner first.


    Not only that but there was a part of the visualizations that held more clues to the other ''key''. That part wasn''t a good thing for Orison to be using, at least not at the moment. The particles of strong and orderly essence that was similar to what he''d sensed in Venito clashed heavily with his space and the spiritual bloodline that he''d managed to awaken. Locking on to those particles, he guided them out of his body and watched them flow over to Rithus who was going through the mantra beside him.


    "No wonder the path that our ''keys'' unlock are incompatible even though they didn''t seem like they''d be. Rithus is following some kind of inner cultivation path that just has the flavor of magic... I wonder what the big difference is?" Orison thought as he finished up.


    Rithus opened his eyes and looked at Orison with a serene smile on his face. "It feels great doesn''t it? I like that the cold hardly affects me anymore."


    Orison looked around and noticed that he did feel a great deal more comfortable after stuffing bits of magic and spirit into the nooks and crannies of his body. "Yeah, nice side benefits. I half expected steam to be rolling off us but our aura isn''t the only thing that gets drawn in. Heat and moisture are even more efficiently utilized... So, the more we practice this, the less food and water we need?"


    Rithus tilted his head to the side. "When you''re not doing much. Morrel said that when drawing hard on the stored potential, advanced emerald heart warriors can become starved and dehydrated in prolonged fights. I''d never say this in front of him but I wonder if that''s why they developed cannibal practices.


    "Getting really hungry and thirsty in the middle of fighting and there''s this person in front of you that you hate and want to kill anyway. What''s the harm in taking a bite out of him or drink some of his blood? They get a little relief for their needs, get some strength to keep fighting and intimidate their enemies... Sorry, that''s probably a bit too much. I have a lot of stray thoughts like this. I enjoy trying to understand why people do what they do. I hope that makes sense."


    Orison chuckled. "Makes perfect sense to me. All the same, I think I''ll just make sure to carry a few more strips of jerky and an extra canteen with me."


    Rithus'' eyes got wide and he waved his hands in front of him defensively. "I... I''m not saying I would do that. I just feel like I can understand where the-"


    Orison laughed. "I get it. I get it. It''s a good thing to try understanding why people do what they do. You never know what little thing might make it easier to help a friend or defeat an enemy. If I''d warn about anything, I''d suggest not getting too nosy about things or offering advice when it''s not wanted. Showing a little understanding will help to make someone feel closer to you but too much and they might feel threatened or angry instead. I feel a little silly saying that to you, though. The ''shadow in your bones'' is probably far more qualified than I am in emotional matters."


    Rithus shook his head. "Not really. People are too contrary. Half the time, I''m afraid of saying things because people lie to themselves and hate that they like things or like that they hate things. It''s so foolish."


    Orison hesitated for a moment and then said. "I don''t feel comfortable talking about this but you''ve probably already figured out that I''m like two different people that got rolled up together?"


    Rithus nodded.


    "That''s because I am. One half of me is a barely teenage boy and the other half is a fully grown man. If I''m brutally honest, that other half wasn''t really that mature either but at the very least, he lived quite a bit longer... I won''t go into a big story about it but because of that, I have some pretty decent insight into why people can be so contrary.


    "In smaller ways, everybody is two people. There''s is the person that you were born to be and there''s the person that experience makes you. To boil it down as simple as possible, it''s nature versus nurture. The conflict between the two produces those contradictions."


    Rithus looked like he''d been hit by lightning, a violent explosion of epiphany illuminating muddled part of his understanding.


    Being a person who''d experienced that sensation a few times, Orison said, "Mull that over and if you want to talk about it some more another time, we can. As for me, I''m going to go warm up my lunch and take it easy for a bit. I''ve got a sparring session lined up with our proprietress this evening."

 80 Crystal Cage 18

    By the time that eight in the evening rolled around, Orison had nearly talked himself out of following through with the plan on sparring with Ruby. Whether it was the misunderstanding of his motivations by Ivan and Gan or his own second guessing about the effectiveness and safety of sparring with a stranger, it no longer seemed like a good idea. Ultimately, he trusted his gut and went to the office anyway despite the drunken heckling from Ivan and Gan''s well meant but misplaced encouragement the young mage had been enduring for hours.


    As Ruby locked the door to the office, she turned around to inspect Orison''s exercise outfit and noticed two sets of unfamiliar equipment. "What are those awful looking mittens and booties for? We''re not going out into the back yard to make snowmen and ice castles."


    Orison said, "Well, the primary goal is learning and improvement. I''ll be the first to admit than pain and it''s accompanying marks of shame are good teachers but we''ll be wearing them for the first hour of striker training. If you give the go ahead, we can ditch them when it''s time for grappling."


    Ruby smirked. "You afraid I''m going to work you over too fast?"


    Orison looked back at her blandly. "You have to admit, the padded gloves and foot guards make trying to go for cheap thrills a useless endeavor. It also insures me you won''t just go for a fast chin or temple strike to rob me of my time. I also have a decent cup on too, so a solid knee to the groin isn''t going to easily earn you two hours off what I paid for either."


    Leading him to the cleared courtyard of her house, Ruby said irritably, "You think you have it all figured out do you, mage?"


    Orison laughed it off. "If I did, what the hell would I need a sparring partner for?"


    The Draconos woman left Orison to roam her yard as she went into her house to change. A few minutes later, she came out wearing a plain but rather official looking training uniform that was slightly faded but still serviceable. With a little coaxing, she donned the protective gear with a couple of off color comments about what she thought of them.


    Orison sighed, "At least attempt to let me get some good training out of this instead of looking for a way to end it as fast as possible."


    Ruby gave Orison an evil smile that lacked any real malice and said, "Oh, you''ll learn something, one way or another... Remember, first hour''s striking only and I''ll end it the second one of three things happen; you intentionally start acting perverted, you use a Chosen ability or there''s a serious injury. Who made these ridiculous things anyway?"


    "Rithus made the gloves and foot guards. Duran made the cup. Luckily the last one''s a little flexible. It''s not quite the right size but I''d rather deal with a little discomfort than a busted testicle." Orison offered casually.


    As they squared up, Ruby and Orison took in each other''s stances and movements while she said, "Fight women rather than men a lot? Weak little bottom feeders like to build their confidence that way."


    It was Orison''s turn to smirk, "Psyching yourself up for playing dirty while convincing yourself I deserve it or are you just playing head games?"


    Ruby started circling. "Oh? It was a pretty simple question. Looks like I hit the mark."


    The moment was building and Orison knew that as soon as he opened his mouth to respond, she''d attack.


    Pretending to fall for the bait, he said, "So it''s both."


    As she lunged for a hit, Orison tilted to the side and tried to redirect her into a hip toss. She went with it, combining his force with hers to land a back-hand to the side of his head that left his right ear ringing and the world shaking from Orison''s perspective. Ruby finished off her neatly delivered double counter with a light roll back onto her feet.


    Seeing him unsteady, Ruby went back in for some serious work over before he could recover. Unbalanced and unable to retreat or step forward without inviting more punishment, Orison fell onto his back and kicked upwards. It was executed blindly with little ability to aim but he managed to heel kick her directly in the pelvic region hard enough to lift her off her feet and drop her on her knees.


    Hurriedly rolling to the side barely in time to avoid whatever had caused the heavy thump where he had just been, Orison yelled, "Red light! Do you need healing?"


    Sadly, he only managed to finished his words before a gloved fist connected with his face, bouncing his head off the ground. Ruby''s voice cut through his jarred senses with an affirmative response that finished with an entirely insincere sounding apology for not stopping on time. Unable to do so himself, Orison had Beta construct the basic summoner''s sprite model before bring it into the world and handed it''s control back over.


    As reality slowly came back into decent stability, he found Ruby looking at him oddly as his dragonfly winged alien hovered over her abdomen. Running a heal charged hand over his face and the back of his head, Orison said, "What?"


    With a disbelieving voice she said, "How did you cast a concentration spell while you were stunned? I may not be able to pull off anything near the potency of an actual Chosen fighting ability but I definitely stunned you."


    Orison winced at the sharp sting the lump on the back of his head gave off before healing magic made it recede. "You did stun me but it was only a mundane version from punching my head into this frozen dirt. That accompanying needle of spirit essence didn''t make it past my aura."


    Ruby coughed to hide her embarrassment over being caught cheating. "Either way... Forget it but color me slightly impressed. Anyway, we''re both cheap trick fighters so at least I know you won''t be throwing some dumb codes of conduct or misplaced chivalry at me while I''m trying to show you better ways to disable or maim someone."


    The result was much better than Orison had hoped. Instead of merely taking a beating from her, stealing inspiration and technique, she actively taught him while he took a beating. By the time his two hours were up, she had defrosted towards him a great deal. Apparently, all a guy really needed to make friends with Ruby was a touch of masochism and the ability to overlook the occasional mean spirited insult. In retrospect, it wasn''t easy to be friends with Ruby at all but she was a decent teacher and sparring partner. That''s all Orison really cared about.


    In the process of being shooed out of her courtyard, the young mage told her that his group had plans to go running in some local places with Emris and his wife. He didn''t know how long it would take or when he''d have the next decent amount of freedom to meet for another sparring session but Ruby was content for it to be his problem to figure out. Her only free time was between eight to ten in the evening from the second to sixth days of the week and wasn''t too keen to reserve time until he was sure when he could use it.


    Once he had finished hobbling back to the cabin, Orison was immediately interrogated by Ivan. "How was getting hot and sweaty with that ice queen like?"


    Orison sighed, "Educational and I have five more hours of torture left to go before I figure out if I want to pay for more of it."


    Brows furrowing, the Nunos man asked, " You''re... paying for her... time?"


    "Yes, Ivan. We are sparring and she''s teaching me. Do you expect her to do that for free?" Orison said tersely.


    Ivan scratched his head, having some difficulty putting his thoughts to words.


    Rithus tried to exercise some of his new understanding. "Orison is better at ignoring mating desire to receive other usefulness from someone than you are. Gan is better than him and I''m better than all of you."


    Rithus finished off by making a comically arrogant pose. After taking some good natured ribbing and clowning around a little to keep awkward questions from being asked Gan and Duran, he filled Ivan in on some mundane party details. Orison casually noted that the ex-Marshlander had practically quadrupled down his gratitude earnings in one fell swoop.


    Orison was happy for Rithus. At the same time, he was a bit morose because once Rithus completely came into his own, their climbing paths were destined to go separate ways. The young mage had originally held some hope that Rithus wouldn''t be ready to strike out on his own before they left this reality but he wasn''t so sure anymore.


    Two days without proper rest had Orison calling it a night not too long after returning. No one really knew how long it would take to complete the ''raid instance'' so everyone else was keen on getting a decent rest in. Orison''s last concern before falling asleep was trying to adjust plans for Ivan''s inclusion into their group.


    ***


    Orison woke up from the four hour trance-like state his sleeping had turned into a couple hours before dawn. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he made his way outside and logged in a round of training before cleaning up and heading to the canteen. The smell of baking bread and the scent wafting off of the specialty crackers a plump but pleasant looking older woman was breaking into stacks had Orison''s mouth watering and stomach grumbling.


    He wasn''t sure what beastkin the woman was but her human husband had already noticed Orison and headed over to their door. "We usually open at dawn but since we got started a little early ourselves, I don''t see harm in letting you take care of your breakfast needs a bit earlier."


    Congenially motioning the young mage in, the man talked up a few of their novelty goods until his wife looked at him in annoyance. "If you hadn''t indulged your older brother to go looking for that junk to begin with, you wouldn''t be so desperate to try unloading some of it now. No one wants any of those bags of beans. Either kind!"


    Orison looked them over and realized what he was looking at. He had missed coffee and chocolate for awhile, long before he had even came to this world. Seeing them before him now, he was more than a little ecstatic and overshared on how to make them marketable. In the process of explanation, the wife got excited. In the place where the ones that wouldn''t fit on the shelves had been sitting, some had gotten wet a few days prior and had been thrown in an old wine cask presumed to be ruined.


    After making sure they hadn''t been sitting that way for too long, Orison had the husband roast them. After talking the wife out of some of her precious sugar to be paired with the morning delivery of milk and cream, Orison percolated a pot of each using his alchemy equipment. By the time dawn broke, the morning customers were flaring their noses over unfamiliar but tantalizing aromas.


    To satisfy his own desires than to make profit, Orison invested a substantial 500 gold for the purchase of more. Taking his share of the finished beverages with him, along with breakfast, Orison cracked the thermos'' and let everyone in his group try a sip of each before letting them decide who wanted what. The only person who seemed to share his love of coffee was Gan who had something similar long ago.


    Caught up in their enjoyment, it had slipped everyone''s mind that they were supposed to meet Emris at the transporter. After answering a heavy knock, Orison calmed down the irritated man and explained the surprising find, treating the Draconos man and his wife to the scant remainder. Emris was an instant fan of coffee but his wife absolutely despised it. Fortunately, the empty thermos of hot chocolate clutched in a death grip within her hands was filled with another round before they left, opening the opportunity for her husband to splurge on another pot of coffee for himself. With a warning over the jitters that could be caused from drinking too much, they were ready to make their way to the raid instance.


    Due to the delay, they ended up stuck in a queue. Since they were only shy of a full eight person team, the first person to arrive decided to join them instead of piecing together a group from the strays waiting for a chance to go. Orison wasn''t keen on partnering up with a complete stranger but the man in question just wanted in the doors, he had no intentions of doing anything but mining on the first layer.


    After a little discussion, Duran also joined the man since going at anything completely alone was a dangerous move and the earnings for any trip through could double just from having a miner along. It would be a bit unfair to expect the guy that let them skip line to share anything with them and it was expected that someone would make sure he didn''t get ganged up on. The biggest reason was that once a person left back out, it wasn''t unheard of for a miner that was by himself to get mugged.


    Emris explained, "Minimum party for this instance is four people and the limit is eight. Any less than the minimum or more than the max and the portal won''t let you through. The biggest difference between this instance and the field is respawn rate for creatures. Creatures come back exactly an hour after they died. The standard is six people, two for mining and the four necessary to stand on the pressure plates to open up the last three layers."


    After having everyone share their main combat class, Emris took the front with Ivan, had Gan and Rithus take flank and had Orison take rear with his wife in the center. The Draconos man explained that the reason for this wasn''t simply to provide the most protection for his wife. She was a healer main and needed to have as easy access to everyone as possible. He was a banner man, a halberd wielder, and had the ability to draw unintelligent creatures to himself while giving a buff to everyone''s defense through his war cries.


    When it was almost time for them to pass through the portal, Emris said, "Time between when the portal lets another group through is a little over two hours. It might sound like there''d be a good possibility of another group catching up to ours but that''s never happened... Each floor has a one hour time limit on it. If you''re still on that floor when the time runs out, you die. That means after around forty minutes or so, Duran needs to follow the good man over there back out of the entrance.


    "The only other true danger in this place is getting separated. People moving completely alone have been known to mysteriously disappear. As long as the group sticks together and no one rushes into one of the two caverns inside, it''s a safe trip. First time runners get fifty gold added to their inventory for just entering and an average run without mined metal being taken into account averages around 200 gold. "There are no gold drops or dismantle opportunities from creatures here. There''s just a counter that is totaled together with everyone else''s and converted to gold which automatically splits evenly. It doesn''t happen often but sometimes the boss drops a few special items. Picking one up means forfeiting your gold but unless it''s needed, a person will usually sell it and split up the gold. After talking it over with my wife, we''re just here to run you and let you know how it works today. The only thing we''ll be taking is what the run gives us at the end."


    For the last few minutes before the portal activated with a swirl of condensed magic that looked like flushing water, Emris checked over everyone''s gear and made a few simple suggestions to the way Rithus and Orison was wearing theirs. As soon as they were on the other side, which somewhat felt like being flushed, Emris lead them around to clean up the long furred, rat creatures in the first cavern. After insuring that their numbers were low enough that stragglers would be too timid to approach the man and Duran, Emris lead them to the next layer.


    Outside of Emris and his wife, the rest of the group was taken by surprise at how nice and palace-like the second layer was. The entire room was polished marble floors, walls and large support pillars. There wasn''t a single sign of life at all aside from their own.


    Emris stopped the group from proceeding and said, "Now that we''re away from prying ears, let me tell you a few of this place''s secrets. I''d appreciate you keeping them to yourselves but it''s no large matter. Most groups that run here often figure them out but I don''t see any reason to benefit others for no good reason. Certain things that you do here can open up more layers. Do nothing special and there are only three before the plates and three after. We know a way to open two more before and one more after... We''ll be waiting here for thirty-nine minutes exactly."


    Ivan said casually, "What''s the point in doing that if you don''t get the nine gems from the first layer?"


    Everyone turned to look at the Nunos family member.

 81 Crystal Cage 19

    "Care to explain?" Emris asked, trying not to sound eager.


    Ivan shrugged. "What''s to explain? This is the tomb that was given to the Draconos people''s royal family to guard. To unlock the royal route, you need the nine family gemstones hidden on the first layer."


    Emris Lead everyone back to the first layer and said, "Do you know how to find them?"


    Ivan looked around for a moment before he started walking to certain spots, passing through walls as if they weren''t there and returning each time with a small gemstone that he placed in Emris'' hand. At one point, they passed where Duran and the just slightly shy of middle-age man were mining. The man looked at Duran with a curious look on his face and Duran just shrugged before he returned to pick at the cavern wall. Long past the age where a little peculiarity could stir his blood, the man went back to picking as well.


    In a little over ten minutes, the group was back at the ''vestibule layer'' and Ivan guided Emris where to put them. With the nine gemstones in place, at the thirty-ninth minute, they all stepped into the corridor at the other end and Emris stopped them. Emris was about to explain when he realized that things might not be how he knew them and so looked at Ivan.


    The green haired man had been caught off guard when he realized everyone was waiting for him to explain. "Oh, without the gemstones to power it''s movement, the sliding hall would have stopped at the service tunnel that leads back to the third layer. Now we''ll be moved to a shaft that goes to the hall of remembrance instead. It''s where honored servants of the First Family were interred. In this case, it would be the seventh overlord''s Draconos servants. They''d be the ancestors of the Draconos royal family... I, uh, shouldn''t be telling you this but as long as you don''t share it with anyone, it''s fine. Besides, it''s not like it''s my family''s tomb."


    Emris awkwardly chuckled. "I doubt it''s one of mine either. If it is, it would be too hard to trace back to. The Draconos royal family fell, what, a thousand years or more ago?"


    As the ''sliding hall'' shuddered to a halt, the group shuffled into a large and opulent mausoleum. Once they began exploring, Orison received a message from Duran. It read ''HELP!'' As quickly as he could, Orison put together an invite transporter model and hoped for the best.


    With nothing else he could do, Orison turned to Ivan. "If I invited someone the way I invited you out of your family, where would they appear in here?"


    As Ivan racked his brain, Orison received another message from Duran.


    The young mage said, "Duran said he''s in a room with a rusty stone in it."


    Ivan nodded, "That would be the ninth layer, the alter room. Since this way''s been opened, he could come up to us."


    Orison relayed that to Duran but the boy responded ''too hurt''.


    They young mage told everyone, "I need to head on first. Duran''s in the alter room and he''s hurt."


    Emris quickly responded, "Emily and I will go with you. The rest of you, loot what you can and meet us in twenty minutes. Anything important we should know about, Ivan?"


    As they were heading off at a quick walk with Emris looking back at Ivan, the Nunos man said, "Not really. All the creatures should be sealed away. Even the portal''s locked down."


    Orison grit his teeth and kept walking as Gan started chewing Ivan out. It hadn''t occurred to the Nunos man that where the mining stranger and Duran was, they had effectively sealed them in WITH the creatures. The young mage only hoped that Duran wasn''t ''too hurt'' to fix.


    As soon as Duran came into view, before Orison''s alien fairies could even reach the boy, Emily fired off two quick spells that coated Duran in a white and then silvery light. Most of Duran''s wounds had been superficial but a gash that ran along his inner thigh had nearly caused the boy to bleed out. Emily''s purify and mid-heal spell had instantly taken Duran out of danger but aftercare took the next twenty minutes.


    After finishing off a full canteen of water and chowing down some jerky, Emily hit him with a heal-over-time ability. For the next bit, Orison brought out his mending droid to fix Duran''s armor. By the time everyone had made it downstairs, a little drying blood on the ground was the only sign Duran had even been hurt.


    Orison asked, "How were you on the field that day at all, Emily. You''re definitely not in the low range."


    She replied, "I was out there with my husband when you activated that hidden instance. I wouldn''t have been able to go into the temple and a healer''s light of retribution is only so great anyway. I may have chosen to stay at the lower range for my husband and child''s sake but that doesn''t mean I want to hold Emris back from his own ambitions."


    Emiris looked at her warmly and said, "I don''t deserve her. We both know it but she''s too nice to admit it."


    Emily rolled her eyes and asked Duran how he was doing. True to style, a one word ''fine'' was his reply, followed by a ''thank you'' after a few seconds had gone by. Emris asked after the stranger they had come in with to find out that the man had escaped by using a hearth stone. That wasn''t to say that he had abandoned Duran but there was only so much help the older man could give with a pick axe. He had stayed behind as long as he could while they ran to try and catch up with the party only to get caught in the pressure plate room with a practical army of creatures coming at them.


    Orison didn''t know exactly how Wick had managed but at some point the tree inside Duran had become more adept at substituting the functions of an Osomo crystal. Over time, Wick would probably learn how to hack the controlling device directly. Duran burst Orison''s bubble of optimism in that happening any time soon, however. Just doing what it had done had apparently made Wick tired and the tree was fairly restful to begin with.


    While Ivan made a sheepish apology to Duran, Emris said, "Orison, don''t give him too hard a time. As soon as the plan had changed I should have insisted that they come with us instead of leaving them behind. A small change to the pattern of known events can change things drastically and this was anything but small... Well, I don''t know anything else from here. Usually this is where that transporter lights up and leads everyone out. The boss is locked up behind those double doors over there but we can see those huge bolts from here."


    Ivan spoke up. "The way it normally works is, a person of the royal family is lead here on the day of their majority and sacrifices some of their blood to the alter. After that, they swear fealty to the First Family and they get a fealty gift of some kind. I suppose someone could give it a try and see what happens."


    Since there was a proficient healer on standby, there wasn''t that great of a risk that anyone could note so Emris put a good sized gash in his palm and let it fall on the alter then swore the oath that Ivan coached him through. The Draconos disappeared in a curtain of light. With a look of grim determination on his face, Duran disappeared as well.


    Everyone else was left to look at each other, unsure of what to say or do. Nearly an hour went by before Emris returned looking dazed. Moments later, Duran appeared looking like someone had thrown him in a rock tumbler and walked away for a day. Emily looked over her husband in detail before moving to help Orison heal up Duran who had transformed into a human shaped bruise.


    Ivan said nervously, "We probably shouldn''t linger here. I remember that after I was done, we left quickly. When I asked why, Grandmother said that there would be a great cleansing that came to a tomb afterwards that none would survive if caught within."


    Taking the hint, Gan came to help Orison carry Duran as Rithus hurried over to help Emily move Emris. All seven made haste to the glowing transporter circle as waves of animal roars began reverberating through the complex. As they were getting ready to step through, Duran croaked out a panic riddled refusal and turned his head with painful slowness towards Orison. The young mage nodded and built a beacon teleport model, pushing outward a little harder than he normally would so they wouldn''t just appear back in the sacrifice room.


    Orison said to Emily, "Go your way or come with us. I can''t say for sure where we''ll end up exactly but I trust Duran not to raise a protest without good reason."


    Torn in indecision, the choice was taken from her when the glowing circle vanished. Showing visible dread, Emily walked over to them with Rithus'' help to drag along Emris, disappearing in another curtain of light. As soon as they appeared Emily let out a weak wail of despair before sinking to her knees. Wondering what the problem was, everyone''s eyes were fixed on her with a questioning expression.


    Tears dripping down, she said, "You brought us to the Listless Corridors. Any magic or abilities used here will be absorbed into the walls and used to make more shadow creatures. Power range is meaningless here. Only the most desperate of The Children will come in the hopes of becoming Chosen. It''s a death trap."


    Orison asked her to share what she knew of the place. Her father had used it to become a Chosen when he was passed over and had returned with her when she had been passed over as well. Deemed as a third generation Child herself, there was no hope of her having much of a fulfilling life after her father had retired. To give her that hope, he had retraced his steps only to find that the place had become far more difficult to survive than he had remembered. In the end he had died and she had barely managed to make it out alive.


    For whatever reason, around seven years ago, the place had ceased functioning the way it once had and the entire ''dungeon'' had gone haywire, trying to kill any who entered rather than testing for worthiness. The common consensus was that, Children numbers were reaching a saturation point and Osomo had ceased to support places that would allow one of The Children from raising into the ranks of Chosen. The whole place was full of incorporeal grudges that attacked the soul directly. She had managed to survive because her father had turned into a kind of grudge himself and had brought her to the main hall, allowing her to go the the acceptance process while she barely held onto life.


    In a bitter outpouring, she related that her current relationship had sprung from a moment of weakness when she had gotten too drunk to think straight and had slept with her teammate''s younger brother. When she found out that she was pregnant, she just kind of went with the flow but over the years she had come to love both her husband and child more than she could ever learn to love herself. Before Orison stopped her, she was about to drag her husband along with her to see if she could do what her father had done, bodily take on the shadows and hold enough of herself to bring her husband to the main hall before joining them.


    Orison asked, "What do they do exactly?"


    Emily, calming down into a numb despair, said, "They throw themselves at you, in you. Their deathly being evaporates as it comes in contact with your life force and they cancel each other out. Once your life force dims, they try to push themselves into your soul until you become like them. Before the main hall and at some of the corridor dead-ends, there are special ones that can sap your vitality. If you''re truly unfortunate, there are one or two reapers that can feast on your being, first confusing and then driving a person mad, making you easy prey."


    Orison looked at Gan and Rithus who were mirroring his smile. "Suicidal shades, a few guardian spirits and a couple of elder spirits who don''t even use spells!? We hit the jackpot!"


    Emily looked at them like they''d gone mad but a small spark of hope lit in her dull eyes. "I don''t know what you think you have that can deal with the shadows but be wary of traps. There are pressure plates and magic sigils that can kill you as well."


    Orison turned towards her as his eyes began to glow a soft Caribbean blue. "Thanks for the heads-up... Rithus, can your bones help with this?"


    Rithus smiled wider, "It''s not that hungry but it could eat."


    The young mage pulled out a lone silver dagger and three silver arrows. "Hey Gan, you''re on trap duty and if you see an elder spirit, give it another eye hole."


    Just to see if he could get away with it, Orison constructed the Titania model in his space before bringing it out. Right as the fairy manifested, the model evaporated and the essence invested was pulled into the walls. Orison just shrugged as a shade pounced at him.


    The young mage got a few swings of the silver dagger in before the shade touched him. Due to having his aura being pulled in tightly against his skin after having logged some practice in the morning, the shade was slowed down enough to only cause a barely registering amount of weakening before a couple more swipes finished it off. Vested of resisting will, Orison''s space sucked it up and formed a crystal that swung in the second ring that currently only it occupied.


    Orison thought, "Don''t worry, precious. You won''t be alone for long."


    Gan snorted. "If you''re going to keep me on potatoe sack carrying duty, hand me that letter opener. Use this."


    The scout pulled out a silver sword shaped from his conduit. As soon as it was in Orison''s hand, the young mage felt some nostalgia for his bound axe. Under his eyes, the sword took on an ethereal quality and started glowing a spiritual blue as it changed into a familiar short handled axe shape. Playing with it a bit, Orison found out his telekinesis was just strong enough to move it within twenty feet of him.


    Dispatching a few shades summoned by the leeched power off his experiment, Orison decided to only use it like that if he had to throw the axe so he could get it back. After the first half dozen had been dispatched with ease by Orison''s axe and casual swiped of Rithus'' hand that looked like it shredded them, Emily went from disbelief to plain relief. The occasional warning from Orison or Gan had even turned the nearly invisible traps into a casual stroll.


    About halfway, that situation started to change. The shades no longer came individually but two to three at a time and it became difficult for Orison and Rithus to insure that none slipped past. The increased effort also distracted Orison enough that that Gan had almost stepped into one of the sigil traps.


    Their pace began to slow and Emily was getting tired enough from her half of Emris'' weight that Ivan took it over completely, relying on those around him entirely to keep him safe. Things were beginning to get dire as the shades started running in packs of four but Duran had recovered enough to hobble on his own by that point, leaving Gan free to ''beat eggs'' with the dagger when a shade managed to slip past Orison or Rithus. It was during one of the ''egg beating'' sessions that Orison twitched backwards a little too far and Gan had to pull himself wide to keep from hacking Orison''s arm.


    The chain reaction that followed caused Emily, who had taken an elbow in the shoulder, to stagger into a pressure plate they were edging around. The resulting darts that shot from the wall mercifully all missed everyone except for one that lodged in Gan''s calf muscle. As soon as that round of shades had been dispatched, Gan plucked the dart from his calf and complained that a numb feeling was coming from the spot.


    Orison turned and used his ability version of cure poison. He knew it would make another shade but he''d at least keep Gan in the fight which was well worth it in his mind. The problem was, a shade didn''t come, a ''reaper'' came. The only one who was fully ready was Rithus and the man didn''t hesitate to throw himself at it despite Orison warning everyone that the elders were the only ones that they could not afford to have touch them.


    Orison knew why Rithus did it. If the Elder had gotten past Rithus and into the middle of their formation, the spirit could have pretty much touched four people at once. As it was, Rithus managed to push the elder spirit back but a thin and angry line of red drew from Rithus back to the elder. Weaving in a daze, Rithus blindly swiped another furrow into the Elder''s form before Gan speed fired two silver arrows through the ghost''s head and Orison finished it off with an axe throw.


    As Gan and Orison dashed forward to collect their respective weaponry, the young mage realized that the scout had lost some of his mobility. He realized things had taken a bad turn and standing still wasn''t an option so Duran had to half support the dazed Rithus as they turned into another corridor where yet another elder waited with two shades and two guardian spirits.


    In a shaky breath, Orison said, "F*** ghosts."

 82 Crystal Cage 20

    As the cluster of death closed in on them, Orison had a half second of real panic. The residual effects of light brushes here and there had weakened his aura''s defense enough to let their fear effect influence him.


    To stoke himself enough to break out of it, Orison slipped the leash on some of his rage. The edges of his sight became red tinged and the ethereal axe in his hand grew into a two-handed variety. Throwing caution to the wind, he drew on the stored magic in his body to give him a burst of speed and flew into them like a whirling Dervish.


    Once, twice, three time he chopped through the front line. Two shades and a guardian spirit collapsed and flowed into his space. Twice he avoided the swipes of the remaining guardian before the elder had him retreating as the two ghosts flowed towards him like an incoming flood. Any hope for backup was pointless as Gan faced two shades that had rounded the corner behind them. Much earlier they had discovered that stopping to catch a breath was a mistake and now they were boxed in.


    Knowing it was trading a bad idea to avoid a worse situation, Orison used his telekinesis to boomerang the axe through the elder twice before it smacked back into his hand, raising another two shades to join the fray before he exhausted his bodily stored magic for one more whirlwind. After that, things weren''t clear anymore. Beta calmly analyze that Orison had taken down the elder and guardian spirit but they had been pinned long enough for two more shades to join the two brought about by Orison''s telekinetic desperation move.


    For a short time, he felt himself staggering to someone else''s guiding hand. Suddenly pushed to the side, Orison slammed into a wall and toppled down. Due more to coincidence than anything else, the young mage flopped into a weak shocking trap. The beast that lay under his skin stirred sluggishly but it had been just enough to return some clarity to his thoughts. Looking up at his bedraggled companions, he pushed past the jelly feeling in his knees to pick up the silver sword that Gan had just dropped due to a guardian spirit snatching the last of the scout''s stamina.


    With a clumsy and amateurish war cry of his own, Orison hacked at the guardian spirit until it was down. Some inner quality of his cry, mundane as it might have been, stirred something in Emris. The Draconos bellowed one of his own but what came out wasn''t just sound, it was fire. It didn''t matter that a couple more shades were spawned from the siphoned energy because they just burned with the rest.


    The air seemed to clear long enough for Orison to pull out an amphora and despite his revulsion, took a swig of bloody vigor before dumping some on Gan''s face and splashing the rest at Rithus. As much as it helped, it hadn''t been the best of ideas. Six or seven more shades came around the bend at once but Rithus was just coherent enough to grab up Duran who''d ran out of endurance at some point while Orison had been elder spirit mind f***ed.


    Emris grabbed his wife and Ivan took the sword out of Orison''s hand, propelling the young mage after Emris as he hefted up Gan. Likely with the last bit of energy that he had, Gan shouted to turn left at a spot where two more shades were instead of heading straight down an empty corridor with the small army of shades right behind them. By unspoken agreement, both Emris and Rithus bodily rammed through the shades, staggering and almost falling down in the process.


    Orison shuddered as he stumbled along behind them. He could see the corrosion of vitality that the two Draconos had endured to brute force their way through. Stumbling, staggering and dragged, every last one of them entered a pitch black room that suddenly flared into eye torturing brightness. The shades that had swarmed Ivan backed up enough for the Nunos man and Gan to fall into the radius of light before Orison pulled them in a couple more feet as he fell onto his backside with a loud thud.


    A few seconds of indulged hysterical laughter and a few squeezed out tears of relief later for those who were simply too weak to do much else, a nimbus of purifying light surrounded them. With her magic back, Emily made short work of getting everyone into a basic state of coherence and mobility. Done with her healing duties, she walked to the very edge of what was safe and looked out to the thick presence of shades just beyond its border.


    With wet eyes and trembling voice, she said, "Daddy, I don''t know if you''re out there but I love you and miss you so much. I have a baby girl now and a husband who spoils her like you used to do for me. There isn''t a day that goes by I don''t think about you. All the happiness I have now was because you gave everything you had so I could. It hu... It hurts so much to think you''re stuck in this place."


    Duran''s uncertain look settled into one of resolve.


    Rithus stepped in front of him and said, "What you''re about to try, is it the best thing for her?"


    Duran shook his head. "Not the best but better."


    Rithus sighed and said, "Obsidian is better than metal.???


    Duran stored the ore in his hands away as Rithus pulled out a large handful of obsidian sand and synthesized it into a placard. Duran accepted it and walked up to Emily.


    "What''s your father''s name?" the boy asked.


    Not looking up, between sobs she said, "William."


    After etching the name onto the placard, he said, "Do and say as I do and say. You need to mean it." Kneeling, Duran released a weak wave of spirit as he intoned, "Ancestor William, we honor you and invoke you to dwell within this shrine..."


    Emris asked Orison, "What is your friend having my wife do?"


    Orison said, "He''s leading her through a ritual to inter her father''s spirit so that they can bring it out of this place. The culture that the ritual came from were ancestor worshipers... I have my reservations on how much I believe a shade to be the person who gave birth to it but, at the very least, your wife won''t have to agonize over her father''s spiritual remains being used to murder people.


    "If she decides to purify it after she leaves, then so be it but if she decides to enshrine the placard, I''d suggest you build a shrine shelter or tomb a good distance away from your house. Someplace private and peaceful would be best. It''s probably not a good idea to let others have easy access to it. Without the presence of family, enshrined spirits can be unpredictably hostile to unfamiliar faces."


    A little nervously, Emris said, "There''s a lot more than one going into that little glass thing."


    Orison shrugged. "Parts of William could be in them or some of the shades are resonating with the call. I imagine many people who have fallen in here came with the intention of making a better future for their family. Whatever the case, it won''t take long for there to only be one."


    The young mage walked over and examined the only structure in the bright room, a throne-like seat carved out of gold veined marble. Aside from a slight touch of roughness at it corners, the seat was otherwise pristine with the majority of its surface still polished to a shine.


    Ivan joined him. "So it''s a seat of ascension. Every single one of them is supposed to be nearly impossible to reach."


    Orison scoffed. "No offense, but we aren''t the strongest or best prepared group. How could it be that hard?"


    The Nunos man looked at Orison oddly. "This place only allows one Chosen and their retainer or a single Child at a time. We didn''t just cheat a little."


    Orison looked at the seat. "Okay, I see your point. Does that mean that only one of us can sit in it? Is there any benefit for a Chosen to do so?"


    Ivan said, "Well, there have been accounts of someone surviving long enough to have met another while still trying to find the seat. For all intents and purposes, if you reach this room, you can sit. As for your second question...


    "There''s three uses total. If used as a self bestowal, a Child can become Chosen and a Chosen can double their active time for learning and respawns. You can take the challenge as a proxy as well, designating someone else for the benefit. Lastly, you can force another Chosen to take the challenge or they will be downgraded to a third generation of The Children and become sterile... Oh, only a royal can challenge another royal, just in case you were thinking of getting back at that Sek prince."


    Orison shook his head. "Even if I could, I wouldn''t. If I get real beef with the Sek Royal family, I''d rather take revenge in ways that can''t be traced back to me. Mr. Emir Ghanem, however, is about to have a really bad day. I''d choose your uncle for screwing with me but I''m not a royal. It might be a way for you to smooth a path back out with your grandmother."


    Ivan sighed. "I won''t do it for her but I will for my sister... We might want to wait until everyone is ready. We get transported out as soon as we''re done from what I understand. Considering what we''re about to do, it might not be safe for any of us to be alone for a little while."


    Rithus, who had been patiently waiting for a turn to ask questions, said. "How does this proxy choice work? What happens if it''s an old person or a person who has already passed away?"


    Ivan racked his brain. "I don''t know for sure. I don''t think Osomo allows anyone not in the registry to be designated for anything. When someone dies permanently, they''re removed from the registry. As for older persons, it probably depends how old? Nothing bad will happen."


    Once Duran and Emily had finished up, Orison prompted Ivan to tell them what he''d shared about the seat. It didn''t take long for everyone to figure out what they wanted to do with the exception of the married couple who had to debate what was best for a few minutes until they figured it out. Rithus suggested that the married couple should go first so that they could have a small head start on getting home and finding a safe place to be before the curious and ill intent could call on them.


    Emris came up to Orison and initiated a hand clasp, acting somewhat mysterious. "Things may change greatly before we meet again, my friend. Whatever those changes bring, know that I will remember what you''ve done for my family." Seeing Ivan''s irritated expression, the Draconos man laughed and added, "You as well friend Ivan, all of you have my thanks for insuring our safety."


    As Emris sat on the marble throne, he designated himself and Emily designated their daughter. Once done, instead of automatically being enveloped in a curtain of light like Emris had, she was prompted to create a message which pinged on all Chosen''s screens in the region. Apparently, completing Listless Corridor and selflessly granting the benefit to someone else was praiseworthy.


    Her actions also earned her daughter a special title called ''Three Generations of Valor''. Once her daughter reached majority, the girl would be considered by Osomo to be a full Chosen capable of giving rise to three generations of her own and the title would grant the girl an extra three years of active status. Under the title would be the message of a mother''s love and hope for her child that the region was seeing now.


    There may not be a hard time limit in the room but Orison noticed that the light was slowly dimming. With that brought to everyone''s attention, people started moving with purpose rather than leisurely taking their time. Ivan''s message of payback was short and sweet but due to him being a noble, the whole world of Chosen got to read that one. Gan also went for a selfless proxy but Orison didn''t recognize the name.


    Rithus did similar but the message was a little accidentally suggestive in a way that had Orison feeling childish for chuckling. "*****, thank you. Your berries were extra tasty BECAUSE they were a little overripe. I hope to have them again."


    Stonily, Duran said, "I''m not using it. I''ll follow you out."


    Orison shrugged and sat down, composing his message. "Emir, you shouldn''t have sent that assassin. With this, my business with the Ghanem family is concluded. Don''t give me another reason."


    As his message played in Sek, Orison and Duran appeared back in Snow Cap. To celebrate survival, the group made their way to the canteen for an early supper and a couple of drinks. The young mage would have liked to celebrate with the married couple as well but after such a trying ordeal it was no surprise that they''d want to get somewhere safe and enjoy some peace for a little instead.


    Halfway to the canteen, Orison received a message. "By royal decree, the challenge issued to Emir has been canceled. For attempting to cause unjust harm to the character of a royal representative, 10,000 gold has been fined against Orison Cantrip."


    In angry disbelief, Orison relayed what had happened. No longer in the mood to celebrate anything, Orison excused himself but bid everyone else to enjoy themselves. Everyone was about to follow but Rithus held them as Duran said, "We''ll be back."


    Catching up to Orison''s seething form, Duran said, "We need privacy. Strong privacy."


    Knocked out of his building fury, Orison nodded and tried to think of a place that would suffice. Orison had Beta construct a model as he built one. By the time he had finished, they had reached Snow Cap''s transporter again. With a curtain of light, they were at the hub transporter for only a mere moment before another flash had moved them into the Temple of Greed. Currently inactive and sub-dimensional, it wasn''t a safe place to stay for long but it was the safest place Orison could think of.


    Duran wasted no time on trivialities. He removed an ornate box from his own tree constructed inner plane and followed that by removing a badge. He closed his eyes and moments later, one of the three gems in the badge''s mouth broke. Once he was done with that, Duran pushed the box and badge into Orison''s hands.


    The boy handed Orison the box and then pointed at the badge. "They''re yours... The prince, make it hurt."


    Whatever was in the box, Orison could sense that questing essence was bending towards the box and he didn''t think it was a good idea for that essence to find it. Quickly putting the box away in his space, Orison turned to the badge. After picking it up, a message appeared on the screen in his space stating that he held a herald''s badge. It was similar to a three wishes concept except that there were limitations. It held the same level of rights to order Osomo as a lesser member of the First Family could. Those privileges extended to but not past the same level of authority as a ruler of a royal family but with more access to certain resources.


    If there wasn''t an expectation for him to use it against the Sek prince, Orison wouldn''t have wasted such a precious thing on it but it was a gift from Duran and it had another use. Orison wouldn''t be petty with the giver but since he was committed, he''d be plenty petty to the prince. Once he was done thinking about how to handle it to the best degree, Orison made a note to find out from Duran what the Sek prince had done to upset the boy. Orison was completely clueless to what it could be.


    Where Duran had gotten the items was no mystery and it must not have been easy for the boy to pull whatever mojo he had to have gotten his hands on this stuff. He made a note to ask about that as well. Duran was turning into a genuine puzzle to Orison. At times, the boy seemed no better off than anyone else and then suddenly does something far beyond Orison''s ability to comprehend. It didn''t help that getting information out of Duran was a major hassle.


    Snapping out of his contemplation on Duran, Orison tested around to determine what was allowed and with the breaking of a gem in the dragon badge''s mouth, all Chosen received a message. "Arbitration has been called. Osomo favors the plaintiff to remain anonymous. The crown prince of Sek has been found guilty on 192 counts of crimes against the people. All fines, pardons, confinements and executions authorized by the crown prince shall be reviewed by the rulers of Auma and Fortune with an anonymous neutral party to assume mediation in the case of non-agreement. All royal decrees issued by the crown prince within the last thirty days will be nullified, all fines refunded... 300%, all confinements to be given... 100 gold per day in restitution.


    "Furthermore, it is the Sek royal family''s personal duty to escort the crown prince to Listless Corridor where he shall be required to pass the trial in order to avoid additional sanctions from Osomo. Any further punitive actions shall be suspended until after the trial of Listless Corridor has been concluded. Failure of the Sek royal family to comply shall result in a third and final fallen mark... Nothing Follows."


    Duran looked at Orison in admiration. "All that, so fast?"


    Somewhat dumbfounded, Orison said, "I just asked for arbitration on the prince''s actions in the last thirty days! There must have been some kind of snowball effect."

 83 Crystal Cage 21

    "Duran, I don''t want to pry too deep into your secrets. We''re all entitled to some but could you help me understand. What is it you did when you followed Emris?" Orison asked.


    Duran''s brows furrowed as his eyes unfocused. "I only meant to follow Emris. I wanted to steal from the thief, from the music box... There was another place... It was where the powerful things are kept. There''s no air or light there... I was freezing and on fire. I... failed to get the best things but these were close.


    Orison didn''t know what problems Duran had with talking but he could tell that the boy had given it his all. Orison told him as much and thanked him then turned his sight inward to inspect the box. Upon opening it, Orison wondered why his space hadn''t tried to eat it. It was obviously a boundary item with spacial laws in it. A quick inspection brought Orison to the conclusion that his space wasn''t interested in it because the concepts of dimension that the box contained were already possessed by his space.


    As soon as Orison made contact with the contents of the box, several items evaporated into his space. All minor items with limited use on their own, once their concepts were untangled and added to his own, would help him later. There were a few more items in the box that his space was interested in but wasn''t strong enough to consume. Among them was a black silk coin purse that gave a dangerous vibe. After insuring that there wasn''t even more goodies inside of them, he pushed the ''eat later'' pile into the darkest, essence free zone of his space.


    All in all, there was a fairly substantial amount of stuff in the box and Duran''s ''black hole'' key was a hungry thing. Orison didn''t dare ask how much the kid had managed to grab because he''d probably cry after hearing the answer. Before inspecting or getting attached to anything, Orison thought it would be better to see if anything resonated with the others. It would be a lot easier to give it up if he didn''t know what it was and it seemed wrong to be stingy when it was all the hard work of someone else to begin with.


    With the air getting stale, it was time for them to return. Two transporter flashes later and they made their way back to Rithus, Gan and an already drunk Ivan. Playing slick, Orison didn''t just invite them to some place private to dig through loot, he brought all the boundary items out of the box and took turns playing a game of darts or sharing a drink and chatting with plenty of back slaps, shoulder squeezes and the like to see what resonated with who.


    He was glad he did. A bone dagger resonated with both Rithus and Ivan but he would give it to Rithus. A miniature glass chess set resonated with all three of them but he would give it to Gan. There were a couple of things that resonated with Rithus but felt like they would suit Venito better. His instincts told him to hold on to them instead of just giving them away. He wasn''t sure why but even though the friend in front of him could use them, it didn''t seem that helpful compared to their worth.


    After he had made all of his decisions, Orison thought about the pitifully lonely garland of mistletoe that was Ivan''s only decent item and felt bad. He might have some grudge against Ivan for past misdeeds and embarrassing situations but he had dragged Ivan into ''climbing the tower'' and it felt wrong to not show some sincerity. In a way, Orison was Ivan''s teacher and from that perspective being too calculative made him think of certain unpleasant past circumstances with educators he had wished could have been a little more supportive instead of callus and ambivalent. With slight reluctance, Orison moved a gold hand sickle with a pearl handle and a copper torc onto Ivan''s pile.


    Using his superior spacial control and Ivan''s lowered vigilance, Orison slapped Ivan''s back one good time, injecting the pile into Ivan''s space. A look of surprise on his face, Ivan slumped to the floor in a dead faint. Chuckling, Orison told everyone at the canteen not to worry, Ivan had just taken one too many and needed to sleep it off.


    When Orison approached Rithus, his currently Draconos friend was anticipating and reached out with a shadow coated palm, giving Orison an easy way to transfer. Seeing Rithus return to his conversation with a local, not so much as a twitch in his face, Orison lamented how much more convenient and user friendly Rithus'' key and core concept seemed to be. With that gripe still washing across his mind, he thought the minor spikes of sudden jealousy that was an inheritance from the original Orison were a childish thing the young mage hoped he''d outgrow sooner rather than later.


    Orison went over to Gan who was swirling a nearly empty pint of the grotesque green beer that the young mage despised. "A gold for your thoughts. I''d offer less but alas, smallest denomination available."


    Gan smiled weakly and said, "Just thinking about how close we came to pushing daisies today. Now that I''ve got this world''s junk sucked out of all my nooks and crannies, I appreciate how downright nasty this place actually is. It practically made me a stranger to myself and I was ''practically'' happy about it... You know, it''s not even the big changes, it''s the small ones.


    "There was this scar on my knee that I got when I was little. Gran kissed it to get me to stop bawling. I barely remember the event itself but I remember the memory, if that makes sense. No matter how lonely I get, I could roll up a pants leg and there it would be, a reminder that someone loved me with all they had. If I had lost it following you into the gods'' chamber pot, I would have known it was my decision and I''d have maybe missed it a little but that would be it. This place just stole it from me... Never mind that, I''m just being a wet blanket."


    Orison said, "No, I won''t ''never mind''. I happen to agree that the little things can be some of the most important things to us... Personally, I blame your bad mood on that awful beer you''ve taken a liking to, though."


    Gan started laughing. "F*** off back to your fruit juice, kiddie table."


    "Gladly, but first I have something for you. Care to take a walk?" Orison said.


    The scout quipped, "This is the part where I''d normally make a crude joke you left yourself wide open for but considering the past couple of days, I''ll give you a break."


    Orison thought over what he''d just said. "Generosity noted and appreciated."


    Once they had managed to find a secluded spot, Orison handed over Gan''s share one at a time. Gan''s invisible map ''key'' might not have came with a convenient inner space of its own but it did have one advantage. Gan could influence the space around him, at least on the energy spectrum level. With time and some more concepts to draw inspiration from, there were a great deal many things the scout would be able to do with that. The most important at the moment was Gan''s ability to avoid supernatural detection.


    Most of what Gan got didn''t seem to inspire much excitement from him until he took in the glass chess set. After a few minutes of dizziness, the scout finally showed the kid at Christmas look that Orison had expected to see much earlier. He expressed that his map had felt like it was missing something to work the way he felt it should and now it had that, ''whatever it was''.


    Due to having influenced them so strongly in the forming of their ''keys'' and conduits, one or more aspects of Gan''s, Rithus'' and Morrel''s supernatural gifts were similar to Orison''s own but the young mage had never been able to get a good grasp on Gan''s. Conduit aside, Gan had a map and that seemed too lackluster in comparison but now Orison understood more firmly. The map really was just a projection of Gan''s ''key''. The scout had inherited a version of Orison''s sub-mind. The reason it hadn''t been that noticeable before was because until Gan had taken in the glass chess set, it had lacked processing power. Before, it had been like a flash drive with a few small programs installed on it and relied on Gan''s brain to run them but now it had it''s own computational ability.


    Gan''s look of child-like glee turned into grim seriousness followed by explosive action with astonishing speed. Before Orison could figure out what was going on, he found himself nearly being sat on by the scout as Gan whipped out his conduit in the form of a tower shield that immediately produced a sound akin to metallic popcorn. While Orison oriented himself for combat, Gan started yelling to warn everyone about the assassins.


    Having missed their target, the four people that had emptied hand crossbow bolts at them didn''t try for a second round and bound off in different directions. With less than three seconds down, if it weren''t for the poison smeared bolts, it would have been like they were never there. This new problem was the most headache inducing scenario Orison could imagine. These assassins weren''t idiots. Once they missed, they''d hide and wait til another situation presented itself, harassing and wearing down the nerves of their target until the job was done.


    Common sense kept the young mage from making a dumb move like following them or wasting the last use of the badge. Even if he managed to get one, it would end up being fairly fruitless for the amount of danger involved. Orison had no doubt in his mind that even if this team of four was completely wiped out, there would probably be replacements waiting for their turn. There were only two ways Orison could reliably see this situation efficiently solved. He''d either have to put fear into their leadership or remove the motivation.


    On alert, the group gathered together some supplies and went back to the cabin where Ivan had been sleeping oblivious to the goings on. Contrary to Orison''s expectations, Ruby didn''t ask him and his group to leave. In fact, the Daconos militia promised to give their cabin a night guard if they didn''t. Despite being vocal about support, no one would give a direct answer as to why, offering platitudes and vague comments about duty or affront over the assault of visitors.


    With no other better thought in mind, the party stayed put in the cabin while while Orison and Ivan exercised their meager but useful connections to gather intelligence. Two days in, Ivan was called back to his family with assurances that there would be no further attempts similar to the one that had driven him away and since it represented an opportunity to help the situation, the Nunos man agreed. With lots of downtime, the party focused on consolidating their gains, engaging in their own practices and training.


    By day four, Gan took his chances and went to visit ''a friend in Auma''.On the fifth day after the attempted assassination, Orison received word from Mo. The druid instructor wanted to meet him and had some news to share. After leaving a message with Gan and Ivan, Orison and his two remaining companions went to Daub. The Draconos militia man stationed at the transporter wished them well on their journey and expressed that Snow Cap would be willing to lend a hand in whatever way they could. Two transporter flashes and a bit of hiking later, Orison was being ushered into Mo''s house while Duran accompanied Rithus to visit the trainer in Daub.


    After a round of pleasantries, Mo said, "It seems we''re always meeting in unfortunate circumstances, Orison. Hopefully, I can alleviate some of that. As you can well imagine, my sources inform me what any fool could easily guess. The third prince hired assassins in an attempt to drag you to the afterlife with him... His death in the Listless Corridor isn''t the end of your concerns, however. It is rumored that a standing bounty exists in underworld circles. The person to claim your life will be rewarded substantially. For reasons that should be obvious and some I can only guess at, the royal families aren''t inclined to do much about it."


    Orison nodded, "I represent an unknown, linked to something that is capable of threatening them. They''re probably looking at this as a good chance to see just how deep the connection is and what I''m capable of. Even if it weren''t for that, they don''t have any particular reason to go out of their way to help me since I''m not a resource they can use as they see fit."


    Mo took a sip of tea and said, "A dour but mostly accurate observation. You aren''t completely without supporters, understand. A few of my acquaintances have benefited from your information about Fortune and have moved a few of their pawns to block lesser underworld entities from joining in on the game Emir and the prince have cooked up for you."


    Orison said, "Alright, what do I have to do to get the purse string cut. The entire ordeal becomes meaningless to them if there''s no reward in it."


    Mo smiled faintly. "To the heart of the matter then. I have three offers and each request is more ridiculous than the last, granted, but no one is certain what you''re capable of or how much this event even matters to you. Prepare yourself. I don''t exaggerate when I say their initial offers are... unrealistic.


    "A certain merchant of Fortune claims to have the ability to make the largest portion of your bounty disappear through some bureaucratic means. They''ll offer their aid for a return of youth. I don''t suppose you actually..."


    Orison frowned. "No."


    The young mage thought of four possible ways to grant the man''s request but he was looking for ways to end problems. Something like restoring someone''s youth would make him a target to every powerful old person in the world. That was a proposition many fold more terrifying than he already faced.


    Mo looked at him skeptically but didn''t comment on it further as he moved on. "A third generation Sek royal outside of the thirty-nine blessed promises everything at his disposal if you can extend royal blessing and privilege to him."


    Orison thought about it. Not only was it doable, the offer was for more than just a single time help and with Auma as his only dubious backing, it was somewhat appealing. There were many reasons why he didn''t take it that seriously, however.


    The young mage said, "It''s not impossible. I''d have to burn a bridge to do it and I wouldn''t be able to extend an offer like that again but... let''s hear the last one."


    A subtle raising of eyebrow was Orison''s only clue to Mo''s inner thoughts on that revelation as the elf spoke again. "A certain person here in Daub wants to know if you have the ability to remove a fallen mark from a royal family''s record. If you could do so, the reestablished royal family would have the means and the inclination to aid you."


    Orison smirked. "Why do I get the feeling that wasn''t one of the original three offers?"


    Mo coughed. "I have it on the most trustworthy of sources that it''s the best offer for you."


    Orison said, "I''ll see what I can do."


    The young mage reviewed every option that could give him the biggest bang for the buck when it came to the badge. The best one he could find was one that allowed him the ability to call one session of the First Family council and be awarded a nominal half vote. The reason that he hadn''t used it immediately was that there was a stipulation. Osomo, the artifact, also had a nominal half vote and the tie breaking vote would go to a royal monarch of the council''s choosing. It was risky but rewarding if he could pull it off. With a possible elf monarch as his tie breaker, Osomo variables could be axed.


    Orison brought out the badge and said, "I initiate the right to call a First Family council session."


    Allowing the beacon transport to connect with his crystal, Orison was whisked away. He appeared in a gray room with a skeleton at his feet that turned to dust as soon as he appeared.


    A woman''s voice said, "Please wait for the council to assemble. Estimated waiting time..."


    A screen of light appeared before Orison with an eternity symbol on it that flashed rhythmically every second. Orison knew what the fate of the poor remains below him had been. Seeing the rusty dagger not too far away, the person who had came to this room before him had chosen to end their own life rather than die of thirst. Due to him not being an actual family member, he didn''t have any power to get Osomo to do anything before the session began but being that Osomo was computer-like despite the powerful supernatural devise she was, Orison tried that track of thought.


    With the aid of his sub-mind, Orison ran through as many potential verbal commands as he could before he finally got a hit. "Initiate remote voting protocol."


    The woman''s voice responded, "Remote voting initiated. Council will convene in one ***** rotation. Petitioner may use the guest quarters until council convenes."


    The wall behind him opened to reveal a mind blowing vista of abandoned civilization.

 84 Crystal Cage 22

    Orison roamed the crystalline eggs and spires that comprised the opulent city. Evidence of violence and force existed in minute corners where repairs had completed but not removed the traces. In a couple of places, Orison saw body shaped piles of dust where even the barest of breezes didn''t touch, encased in clear coffin-like structures. Whatever hopes Orison had given rise to in his heart of treasure or knowledge were slowly dashed.


    Those hopes rose from the ashes like a phoenix once he stumbled onto a directory which lead him to a variety of structures that Orison had hopes of finding something of value. Once again, he was disappointed when time after time, he was denied any meaningful interaction with devices or storage units. Giving up on the best possibilities, Orison held on to one last hope as he moved to the outermost ring of structures.


    "Whatever crisis came to this place, the rich and the well-to-dos may have had the chance to flee or have their stuff safeguarded by the best available but every society, even if it''s just a big family, has their not-so-well offs," Orison reasoned.


    With over half of his time gone before the council, Orison finally caught a break in a training device designed for children to learn the fundamentals. With the rush of information that his sub-mind helped him field to dump unnecessary clutter, Orison discovered the root cause for their destruction. Almost everything that they could do was interdependent on the spiritual essence powered devices even the children had. He deduced that their luck had finally ran out when they had met something that could disrupt their connection to those devices.


    Leveraging against the knowledge he had obtained from the children''s trainer device and that he was considered to be equal to a lesser family member until the council session was over, Orison completed a request logged into the civil system. Picking up a parcel for an old fashioned ''pile of dust'' that liked to receive things manually for some reason, Orison delivered it to their home. Once the delivery was registered, Orison opened the package to find that the contents were a bundle of love letters and poems. Since the owner was dead, Orison turned them in at a security booth and earned a second civil reward.


    With civil credits to use as collateral, Orison accepted more packages from the manual delivery service that some people apparently liked due to novelty. It was just busywork for children that gave small rewards but a few of the items thus uncovered were disturbing to think that a child was meant to deliver them. Orison actually uncovered a few valuable things that would have been highly illegal if there were people around to care. He got the impression that they may have been tests for the people who received them.


    Taking the credits thus earned, Orison paid a registration fee for his current self to adopt his future self. It would have been a completely pointless thing to do if anyone but himself was the person who would be reviewing it. Orison briefly thought to himself that all bureaucracy ended up producing strange instances.


    With the remaining credits and time, Orison purchased a provisional library pass. After a scan was performed to check his safe storage capacity, he was cleared for direct assimilation of two educational volumes approved for lesser family and could borrow up to three ''manual'' copies. With little time to browse before the council hearing, Orison chose summoning and healing theory which was intercepted by his sub-mind. To finish it off, the young mage checked out the first two books of a series on synthesis and enchanting along with an instructional handbook on family law and Osomo permissions which Orison would have sacrificed an assimilation for if he had known it existed first.


    Quickly making his way back to the council room, Orison browsed the handbook for any useful bits of information he could use immediately. The most meaningful thing he discovered was that the legal shenanigans he was about to try to pull wouldn''t have worked the way he had hoped. Most of the overly optimistic ideals he had concocted would have to be dismissed entirely as Osomo was designed to close such loopholes to avoid the situation he was trying to start. Thankfully, there was one idea which would pry the stingy fingers of Osomo up a little and give some benefits, though not as many as the young mage previously thought it would.


    While Orison continued to skim through the handbook, a feminine voice spread over the silence. "Provisional family member Orison''s council session is called to order. Honorable... provisional family member Orison, presiding. Secretary... observational sub-processes, recording..."


    The voice droned on a litany of formal phrases that made the whole process seem asinine. Eventually it was time for the first proposal.


    Having had a chance to revise his plan because of Osomo''s long winded introductions, Orison said, "Due to a decline in population, I propose all adoption requests by any level of family be approved until such time as the population stabilizes."


    The voice chimed in. "Seconded... All... zero primary council members have abstained. Motion passed. All... two adoptions will be automatically approved. The fees and additional requirements for adoption shall be waived until quota is filled."


    With a boost of confidence from his easy success, Orison decided to take a risk. "Important administrative and executive positions are unable to be filled due to population decline and inadequate training. I propose that requirements of family status and training be lowered to the absolute minimum allowable in order to fill essential positions."


    The feminine voice said, "Osomo votes against... Awaiting family member Duran''s mediation. Family member Duran has sided with petitioner family member Orison. Motion passed. Council will reconvene after system updates. Estimated wait... one hour."


    The young mage felt a beacon teleport aimed at him. With a bit of apprehension, he accepted. After the light cleared, he found himself floating in front of the mountainous crystal alongside Duran. There was no adjusting radiation or enchanted voice attempting to brainwash them this time, however.


    A gentle but irresistible force pulled the two deep into the mountainous crystal''s depths. With a feather gentle landing, they stood before a pillar of invisible force, vaguely identifiable due to the bright nubs of light that floated in orderly rotations within. Two of those nubs broke free of their rotation to approach them.


    Orison started reaching out with his telekinesis to grab another when Duran raised a hand to stop him and said, "They''re too strong. That one''s... safe."


    Unlike the first time, the crystal entered Orison calmly. His space stirred at its presence but he didn''t have to stop his space from trying to devour this new crystal. The brightly glowing nub didn''t resist being pulled from it''s trek to the spiritual seat and sat placidly at the center of his space where his eternium formation once resided, having been displaced by the newcomer. A metamorphosis was taking place, drawing all the crystals and dust to the center. The only thing left in it''s usual orbit was the half-a-basketball court sized plane.


    Relaxing his inner sight, Orison turned to Duran. "What did you use the badge for?"


    The boy shrugged and said, "For Wick."


    Confused, Orison said, "Wick signed you up for adoption?"


    Duran shrugged again and Orison didn''t have enough curiosity to pursue it.


    The two were ushered out with the same gentle yet firm force that brought them in. Not wanting to waste time before he''d be called back in for the final proposal, Orison used his new probationary authority to review pending decisions on royal family matters. Skimming through, Orison was disgusted at the sheer amount of violations that were logged. He was even more shocked to discover that it was verbal disrespect of the First Family that had caused every mark for over a thousand years. Due to every violation or reward requiring some form of review process except for verbal disrespect of a monarch to the First Family, crimes weren''t punished and loyal fulfillment of duty had went unrewarded for nearly 1600 years. The worst part was that the families that had fallen were typically the most virtuous of their time! It was their anger and despair at the corrupt ones that had spurned their outrage! The only royal family that had held the line between virtue and survival almost to an excruciating degree had been the Nunos family. Orison had to admire the wisdom and discipline necessary to be able to ride such a fine line for so long.


    Orison thought to himself, "Well, every bill has it''s due date and 1600 years of backlog is going to be nearly apocalyptic. I wish I had the ability to pair down the punishments to only apply to the generation that committed them but if I did that then the rewards would as well which would be colossally unfair for the Draconos Skyward royal family and this human royal family of Shadow''s Reach... Oh, thank Bob. I can declare death as punishment and restitution served. That''s good enough.


    "Holy crap! I can pick the initial monarchs for families in pending reinstatement status!? Oh, not for Skyward... It''s Emris!? No wonder they were acting all weird... For the elf family it''s Mo, obviously... Who do I pick for Shadow''s Reach keep? I don''t know anyone over there. This lady and her husband look pretty solid. Let''s send her a message real quick to let her know where her brother and sister are. I can''t imagine how sucky it would be to get separated at an orphanage that young. Of course I''m going to be biased in my choice. What is privilege for?"


    There was no way for the young mage to remotely deliberate every incident, not even if he had months. To do what he needed to, Orison absolutely had to finish all of it before his final proposal or the results could be unpredictable so he allowed most of it to default on Osomo arbitration and mainly focused on fallen marks and rewards for the two ''good'' families. He spent his last remaining minute of time making sure that Daub''s family returned and Nunos would at least break even. Mo was alright and his waning affection for Vivian extended that much.


    Duran hadn''t been idle during the ten minute recess. The boy had appeared with him in the floating city and as soon as they arrived, Duran had taken off like a dart directly towards the library, barely making it back in time. The young mage made a mental note to do a book swap with him when they had time later.


    Ready to be done with this, Orison said, "I propose that all administrative and executive decisions made by family members since the start of this assembly to be considered reviewed and accepted."


    The feminine voice said, "Osomo votes against."


    Duran said, "I... want time."


    "Family member Duran requests deliberation. One hour of deliberation granted."


    Orison wanted to ask what that was about but Duran had immediately sat on the floor with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a fine film of sweat popping out on his forehead. Whatever Duran was doing, his free spiritual essence was drawing thin quickly and Orison could feel a faint, incredibly rapid tattoo of spiritual pulses coming from inside the boy. Although it was only an educated guess, Orison imagined that Wick was doing a lot of work really quickly. Unable to do much more than he already had, council opportunity wise, Orison sat behind Duran and gave the boy some essence assistance.


    With a quarter hour left to go, even Orison was starting to feel strained and the rapid firing of weak spirit pulses lowered to the rate of a heart beat before Orison couldn''t feel them anymore. Once the time ran out, Duran voted in favor of Orison''s proposition right before a curtain of light pulled them to a platform at the top of a tower. A rough distance of a mile radius around the tower was a wall of rotating sand colored cloud, as if they were standing at the eye of a hurricane impossibly situated in a desert.


    Looking faint and sounding out of breath, Duran said, "Call them here."


    The young mage invited Rithus and Gan. With a short hesitation, he invited Ivan too.


    Amid a flurry of questions, Duran flashed a rare smile and said, "Just wait."


    A few seconds later, Orison received a message letting him know that Duran wanted to invite three other people who he''d never heard the names of but didn''t see a reason not to allow it when he didn''t even know what was going on. Once the three people appeared, Orison gave them a once over as Duran told them the same thing he''d said to everyone else, ''just wait''.


    The first was a girl whose age was hard to verify due to being heavily scarred. It was easy to understand why Duran would fill one of an eight person maximum team with her if there were benefits to be had because the girl was obviously in a bad way. In her one remaining arm, she clutched onto a wide and shallow basket half filled with wild vegetables as if she was brandishing a shield.


    The second stranger was a dirty middle-aged man in mining gear. His eyes were dull with a kind of numbness to the cruelty and vicissitudes of life. Despite that, he still projected a kind demeanor and his aura was relatively clear for a person his age.


    The third person was a rough and surly looking old woman. It took all of three seconds for Orison to pull a comparison with Medea. The young mage would have been disturbed by the spatters of blood on her smock if she didn''t smell of herbs.


    In the group of silent but confused people, it was the old woman who wasn''t content to take Duran''s word as enough. "I got a young man being held together with some strips of cloth and a prayer. If this is going to take longer than a few seconds, I''m going back."


    Looking sad, Duran said, "Forty-three minutes."


    Without waiting for an explanation, the woman uninvited herself and disappeared. With a heavy sigh, Duran sent another member request that Orison approved. A shifty-eyed, poorly dressed boy with a broken sword in his hand took one look around at the situation. Before anything could be said, the boy uninvited himself and disappeared.


    Looking shocked and a little hurt, Duran looked at Orison and said, "You can have it."


    Unsure of who to give a dubious, unknown benefit to, Orison pondered out loud, "Vivian, Ruby or Mylar?"


    After a round of input from his party, Orison found out that Vivian already received something similar to whatever this was going to be when she was appointed an heir. The young mage nearly lost it when he found out Ruby was essentially a serial killer. That really only left Mylar. For whatever reason, Rithus was content not to offer any other suggestions for consideration and Gan didn''t really feel like anyone he had met could be justified as important enough to consider over Orison''s choice. Feeling somewhat ambivalent about it, Orison invited Mylar.


    Once the wild haired man appeared, he looked around in curiosity before he cut off Duran''s trademark two word explanation. "I thought the Tower of Bestowal was a fairy tale, something the southern desert tribe cooked up to make idiots march to their deaths in the Sea of Sand."


    Breaking records, Duran smiled a second time as there was now a person who could answer questions. That smile turned into a scowl as the boy realized that Mylar was under the impression that the tower granted a wish. By the time a few minutes had passed, Orison was genuinely grateful that he wouldn''t have to be in a party that contained both Duran and Mylar for long. By the time Mylar''s irritation at Duran''s stubborn silence had turned into wild conjecture that had the boy looking like a volcano right before it would erupt, Orison had the bright idea to distract the older mage with questions on progress with the elementalist''s Children companions.


    For all the build up, the actual bestowal event wasn''t that dramatic, at least not for his main group. For the add-ons it was life altering. Under the intensely bright beam of light that fell on them, Orison felt something enter him that he reflexively sent to his space. Duran leaned in to whisper a warning not to open the crystal capsule until they were in a different reality.


    Orison realized that whatever it was Duran had accomplished, the Tower of Bestowal''s light baptism was just a cover for it. Under the intense bombardment of purifying magic, life essence and a trace of some strange energy that Orison could only register as ''making something more real'', Osomo couldn''t detect the special delivery Wick had staged. The young mage finally understood why Duran was even tighter lipped than usual and why Mylar had managed to get under the boy''s skin so badly.


    Once the light had cleared, other than Ivan looking a couple of years younger, no major changes had occurred in the ''climber'' group. Mylar and the middle-aged miner had regressed to their early twenties and looked worlds better off, especially Mylar''s soul which no longer looked faded. The one who had benefited the most from the bestowal was the girl who was somewhere around her mid teens.


    Whole, healthy and cute as a button, even Mylar''s jaded countenance softened a little at the girl''s emotional sobbing. Everyone except Rithus and Orison gave Duran a trollish face of one kind or another when the girl rushed in to give Duran a hug for all she was worth as she burst into a second set of sobs into the flustered boy''s chest. A round of heckling and cat calling had the girl retreating fairly quickly, leaving Duran looking relieved and disappointed in equal measure.

 85 Crystal Cage 23

    Orison herded Mylar and his other people to the side so Duran could share a few words with the two people he''d brought. As supportive as Orison was to Duran making friends outside of his party, Orison didn''t want bogged down getting to know other people at the moment. What he didn''t expect was for Duran to say that they weren''t done with the tower yet as the boy lead them in.


    With a quick warning not to open the double doors at the other side of the hall, where a deep and reverberating growl was being issued in their direction, Duran pointed at the throne-like chair that looked much like the one at the end of Listless Corridor. Thirty-nine years of chosen status and the title ''Equal to Heaven'', which granted immunity to royal decrees, were great benefits to everyone but Orison and Duran, though the set of custom equipment had Orison taking his turn sitting in the chair as well.


    Since they''d get the most out of it, it was an unspoken agreement to let the three locals, minus Ivan, get their turns first. Once the miner guy had finished his turn, Orison noted the set of equipment that was created had a strength of existence factor to it. Realizing that meant it could possibly survive a boundary crossing, Orison had a quick powwow with his group, advising them to create as neutral an appearance as possible with generic enchantments, allowing it to possibly be useful in the future as well.


    Since everyone but Rithus didn''t understand quite what Orison meant, they had him demonstrate. In appearance, the young mage''s defensive gear looked like a blend of beatnik simplicity with minimalist gothic flavor. In reality, it was an air-tight suit with the turtleneck portion at the top hiding a head cover that could stick to his mask with a quick application of ''mend''. With so little material invested, he was allowed an additional piece so he created a light and silky textured open front robe with wide sleeves and hood. All of the defensive equipment''s considerable enchantment allowance was invested into wide spectrum resistance.


    Accessories weren''t part of the gift but one large weapon or two smaller ones were. Keeping it simple, he requested two easy to hide black daggers with great durability. The enchantment allotment was entirely poured into penetrative ability both physical and magical.


    With Duran''s help Gan did something similar except there was nearly microscopic fish scale patterning on the suit and the outer part was more duster than robe. Orison wasn''t entirely sure what Duran did but the boy could wear his creation under normal cloths and the weapon could be mistaken as a metal club when it was in its most compact mode. Orison had the impression that Rithus'' enchantment allotment for gear was almost used entirely on versatility as the gear could practically shape change and a weapon wasn''t even in sight.


    Ivan''s gear was sleek but still carried too much medieval aesthetic. Borrowing some of Duran''s assistance the shield and sword could pare down into concealable forms but overall, if the Nunos man was going to be going to any more modern destinations with them in the future, they were going to have to find him a trench coat or something.


    Finally finished with the tower, Duran bid farewell to the randoms. "Goodbye... Live well."


    Not being satisfied with that, the girl ran up and hugged Duran from behind, where the boy had already turned away to walk back to his group. "Thank you so much, Duran. If... if you pass through Auma, I''d like to see you again."


    Patting the arms wrapped around him a couple of times, Duran turned his head a fraction and nodded. With a look of unwillingness, the girl uninvited herself. Staring at the spot she had just been, Duran lightly sighed and shook his head. Ivan and Gan, who were waiting for their opportunity to swoop in and give him a hard time, saw how the end had played out and decided against it. Indulging in the affections of a serious person may feel good but it was wrong if you didn''t have the intentions of being serious too. Still, giving up on such an opportunity rarely left someone feeling happy, a fact that two men who''d done their fair share of pleasure seeking understood all too well.


    After sending Mylar on his way, Orison turned to Duran and said, "This ended up being pretty rewarding. Does Wick have any more tricks for exploiting the extra permissions we''ve managed to obtain?"


    Shaken out of his personal thoughts, Duran closed his eyes for a moment and then shook his head decisively. "Check your messages."


    Orison pulled up the interface screen in his space and saw the ridiculous amount of logged requests. The amount of urgent requests alone counted for hundreds of thousands. A sticky note styled warning indicated a timer for the completion of urgent requests that would suspend their family member status the moment they stopped completing them. Considering that compensation required a council review that neither of them had the ability to call again and the fact that allowing the timer to completely elapse, even once, would result in suspension of status, it wasn''t practical to attempt keeping it.


    The young mage said, "No more exploitable access to Osomo''s best resources and permissions will be dropped to third generation royals planet side, huh? Well, at least no one can try to pull rank on us anymore. It sucks that we can''t pull rank either but I guess that evens the playing field."


    Ivan interjected, "If it''s questions about how to abuse third generation privileges, I''m the man to talk to... Not that I''ve done much, um, abusing. I...what I meant to say was that there are plenty of options still available to you. I''d say the biggest help is that if someone does something that involves you in a questionable way, you can use that to get someone''s identity and even fine them. Remember how I fined that Sek guy after he slighted half elves and disturbed the peace at the inn?"


    Ivan pointed at an empty spot on his chest where the special crest used to be and suddenly looked lost. "I forgot I don''t have the disciplinary badge anymore. Maybe grandmother will give it back now that we''ve... reached an understanding."


    Duran said, "Don''t need it."


    Perking up, Ivan said, "With all the mysterious activities the two of you have been up to, you''ve given me direct disciplinary permissions?"


    Duran looked at Ivan woodenly and said as he pointed between himself and Orison, "We don''t need it."


    Unlike other places that had forced them to leave as soon as they were done, the tower was oddly silent. Scanning through world notifications, Orison noticed that their usage of the tower hadn''t been announced either. The young mage was more than happy about that fact. The best possible thing for them to do would be to stay out of the limelight for awhile.


    Orison addressed his group. "Sek and Fortune royal families have fallen. I feel a little bad about Fortune because they haven''t really been that excessive but the king himself was quite the monster in his youth and the generation before that was horrendous. Thoth''s current travesty can be laid directly at their feet.


    "Our buddy Emris has become a king and so has Mo. Oh, for those of you who don''t know him, that''s the elf druid instructor... There''s also a couple of people none of us have met that have taken up a royal mantle in Shadow''s Reach. We''ll be going there soon but we need to work the kinks out of our abilities and teamwork before we go there. The surrounding area there is the hub for the upper side of middle range and the lower side of high range.


    "A quick word of caution. I''ve been pretty vocal how I feel about the poisonous nature of Osomo assisted abilities but I haven''t needed to talk about the dangers of equipment reliance. We now have equipment that''s beyond our range. That means things that should be dangerous to us aren''t so much and it won''t take but a hot second for that to change if something happens to our equipment. Don''t start underestimating things because we have these nice toys. Toys break and creatures have all kinds of abilities we don''t know about. Creatures like rust crickets and fern moths are low range creatures with abilities to temporarily put equipment under duress. I doubt that those kind of abilities get anything but nastier at higher range.


    "That aside, we have something much more important to discuss. Ever since we''ve gotten here we''ve been just going with the flow, doing what needs to be done and only reacting rather than seeking out what we want and need. That needs to change... Through sheer luck, Duran and I have managed to pry open Osomo''s grip on us a little but we''re still going to have to try hard and progress if we want to escape her clutches completely."


    Ivan''s brows furrowed. "You talk as if The Mother is some kind of captor. She''s our protector. The gifts she gives and-"


    Orison cut him off. "Ivan, the Heart of Osomo is a powerful magic device created by an ancestor of the First Family. You''re absolutely correct that everything you have is because of her. You are absolutely correct that every living thing on this planet is still alive because of her. That makes Osomo no less of a prison and everything in it all but unable to break its dependence on the Heart of Osomo.


    "You don''t have to feel the same way we do about it. In our attempts to break free, we''ll not be doing any real harm to the continued ability of that device to keep this world running the way it always has. What you do need is a firm will to ''climb'' or there''s no point in trying. You''re welcomed to run with us if you want but no one here is going to hold you back if you want to go your own way either."


    The young mage could tell that Ivan didn''t like what he was hearing but when the Nunos man grimly gave his decision to stay, Orison believed Ivan was resolved. Only time would tell if the royal was fully trustworthy but there was a pressing need to find out what Ivan required to ''climb'' outside of the dubious spirit essence shortcut. After guiding Ivan through the process Orison and his party had already done, it was discovered that he was an emotion feeding type like Rithus. Fortunately, Ivan had a glamour that helped him produce the awe and admiration he needed. It wasn''t an emotion as easy to illicit as Rithus'' own.


    After working that into his game plan, Orison said, "Alright. What Duran, Gan and I need are fairly easy to work in together. Rithus, what you and Ivan need require contact with lots of people and reliant on situation, the worst kind of position for me to be in until all the drama I''m involved with dies down. If you''re comfortable with letting Ivan take point, following him on a set course of civil distress missions would serve the both of you well. Ivan, Rithus, does that sound like a good fit for you two?"


    As Ivan nodded, Rithus said, "It''s what''s best for me but are you sure? It might... be some time before we meet again."


    Somewhat surprised, Orison said, "You can feel the pull already? I could clearly feel that the boundary of this world is sealed. How-"


    Rithus raised a hand. "There are some things I cannot share. If we do part ways, know that this time is not the end. As long as we both live, our paths are meant to cross once more. I''ll help Ivan catch up as best I can until then."


    Orison said, "Well, in that case..." Orison gave the Draconos man a rough hug and finished, "You pass that on to mom for me then. You know, if you beat me there first."


    Seeing that Rithus still looked torn, Orison added, "It''s hard to part ways but family is still family, no matter where they are. You know my personal demon is jealousy but it isn''t stronger than my desire to see the people I care about thrive. Don''t let your own personal demons hold you or what you care about back either."


    The fog of indecision cleared from Rithus'' eyes as he reached out to pat Orison''s head but changed target to the young mage''s shoulder at the last moment. Orison wouldn''t have cared much if Rithus had. The man was just shy of old enough to be his grandfather despite his current youthful appearance.


    As they were about to leave, Orison told Ivan, "I''d appreciate being kept up to date. Don''t hesitate to contact us if you need help... And above all, listen to what Rithus has to say. You''re in charge because you need to be but Rithus has a good deal more life experience than you. He only LOOKS a little younger."


    A little apprehensive, Ivan asked, "Are you older than me?"


    Orison said, "Yes and no. It''s complicated... Just keep what I said in mind, alright?"


    With a few more minor instructions and some resource sharing, Ivan and Rithus finally left. When Orison turned to address his remaining two companions, he found that Gan was looking at him strangely.


    The scout said, "What ''yes and no''? You''re eleven, maybe twelve at most, right?"


    Duran snapped out of his inner thoughts and looked at Orison with an intense, burning curiosity.


    Orison sighed. "Like I said, it''s complicated. The short answer is, mentally a bit older than you and a bit younger emotionally. Who the hell knows how old my soul actually is... If you want to get super technical about it, I could be considered the youngest of us or the second oldest. What do you consider to be the most important aspect of a person to determine actual age, Gan?"


    Gan looked confused, even a little worn out as he asked, "How old would YOU say you were that day on the road when... when you shared a horse with me for the first time?"


    Orison finally understood why the issue of his age bothered Gan so much. The young mage had to admit to himself that his actions that day were downright manipulative and as much as he didn''t want to answer Gan with the truth, lying felt wrong, deeply wrong.


    Orison said, "I wasn''t as whole then as I am now but my answer wouldn''t be much different than the one I already gave... I was honest with you. I meant every word I said... No matter how you saw me then or see me now, You''ll always have a place by my side and in my home if you want it. You''re my family Gan."


    Gan''s face was unreadable but Orison could feel the emotional turmoil inside the scout as Gan said, "What does that mean, Orison?... Rithus is your family. Morrel is your family. I''m your family... Is Duran your family? I thought you were just this smart and big hearted kid that was forced to grow up before his time. I need to know. What are we to you?"


    Orison fell silent for awhile, his thoughts interrupted occasionally by the growls coming from behind the double doors."Well, if you want me to bear my feelings and say a whole bunch of embarrassing sh*t, can we please do it on the top of the tower? That thing behind the doors over there is distracting as hell."


    In the tension, Gan let out a weak chuckle and Duran cracked a half smile before they shook themselves out of it. Gan even looked a little mad but it was hard to tell if it was at himself or Orison for distracting him from whatever serious contemplating the scout was doing. As they made there way back out to the top of the tower, Orison did his best to gather up his thoughts and make them as coherent as possible.


    In the light of the desert''s early afternoon, Orison looked at his two companions and said, "Isn''t it Northland custom to get a man sh*t face drunk before forcing him to bare his feelings?"


    Gan was stunned for a second before he fought to hold the grim look on his face as he brought out a bottle of mead. Orison could feel the intimate signature of miasma on it.


    As it was passed around, Duran reached out and snatched the bottle for a few deep gulps before passing it back. The atmosphere was so solemn the drinking felt more like a formal ceremony than the casual social lubrication it should have been. Whatever Orison was about to say, it mattered a lot more to both of them than the young mage realized and that made Orison nervous, a little scared even.


    Taking a deep, slightly shaky breath, Orison said, "I have a soul made of two people. One is the original Orison, an orphan who lost everything and almost his own soul too. The other part is a man from another world, a softer one in some ways, harsher in others. That man was a depressed, lonely and nearly suicidal person who died while being dragged into a supernatural event.


    "They''re both in here. I have their memories, their spirit, their strengths and weaknesses, everything... I have everything that''s left. Both of them lost some things along the way but managed to survive by becoming one person.


    "The original Orison gets jealous easily because he was deprived of so much. The part that''s Al is afraid of hurting the ones he loves and being hurt by them. Both sides were lonely and afraid. I say were because those lonely spaces were filled with new people, new family.


    "So that you guys can get what I''m trying to say with no bullsh*t added, I''ll start with the others and work my way to you last...

 86 Crystal Cage 24

    Orison tipped the bottle up and finished off what was left. "Droya is mom...can''t be any more clear about how I feel on that. Morrel''s somewhere between a grandfather and a teacher. On the surface he was our steward but in truth, he ran the house.


    "Rithus is a little harder to pin because he''s changed so much. He''s a little like an uncle and a little like a brother. I have a love and deep respect for him. How could I not? Back when he was nothing more than an old man, he stood between me and the people trying to kill me with only a suitcase as a shield.


    "Venito is my brother, plain and simple. We worked hard to make it that way. Both of us wanted and needed that. Just like real brothers we have a little rivalry, a little beef with each other''s views. It''s a warts and all brotherhood.


    "Lyra and Vivian are both special to me in different ways. Thinking about them hurts in different ways. I can''t say that I truly love either of them but I could if they''d let me. As a ''climber'' it''s a good thing that they both rejected me but as a man who wants to fill the lonely spaces inside, it f***ing sucks."


    Orison''s words stirred up unfamiliar and confusing feeling in Duran. Gan briefly gave a look of sympathetic understanding before his poker face slid back into place.


    Before Orison could go into the final stretch of his confession, Duran said, "Is it...normal? The lonely spaces... How many does it take. Wick helps but..."


    From where he was sitting under the growing shade of a turret, Orison patted the floor on both sides of him. "It''s not that there are so many spaces. We make them when we realize a want or need that isn''t satisfied and they grow deeper with time, then they hurt. There''s not that many of that kind and as long as a person is willing to reach out and invite someone to fill it, most of the time they can.


    "The ones that are hard to fill are the spaces that people leave behind. Sometimes it''s better to try and close them than fill them because anyone that you find to put in them later have to compete with the ghost of the person who once was there. Easier said than done but... Anyway, come over here and sit beside me. I still got a couple of names left and I''d rather feel like I''m spilling my guts to friends than confessing to a jury."


    Duran came and sat beside Orison looking stiff and a little uncomfortable when the young mage hung an arm around his shoulder, bumping the side of his head against Duran''s like Venito did to him.


    Smiling, Orison said, "Filling a space can be that easy. The thing is, the longer a person is there, the more you feel the emptiness when they leave... I got another one right here, Gan. Are you gonna hear the rest of what I got to say as a person filling an empty space or a person leaving one?"


    With a half defeated sigh, Gan sat next to Orison and hung his arm on the young mage. "I thought this was supposed to be a bullsh*t free confession."


    Orison said, "Since when is it bullsh*t to prove a point with a demonstration? Okay, it might be cheating but it''s not bullsh*t if it''s sincere. If you hadn''t came over here, I might not have been able to finish this. It''s not that easy to just throw out your feelings in front of someone when you''re afraid they might step on them.


    "But enough of that. I gotta get through this before the buzz wears off. After breaking out the good stuff, I''m scared that green beer is gonna come out next."


    Gan dug his fingers into Orison''s shoulder, causing the young mage to squint as he said, "Alright, alright. No disrespecting a Northlander''s choice of booze."


    The young mage took another deep breath and finished his confession. "Ivan''s new. I don''t really know him that well but he seems okay. I''ve been in too many awkward situations with him to feel that comfortable around him. Some of it''s his fault and some of it''s mine but I feel responsible for bringing him into this so he''s kinda like my apprentice I guess. Something like that at any rate."


    Squeezing Duran''s shoulder a little, Orison said, ???In the beginning, I kinda picked you on a whim. I saw a little of myself and Venito in your situation and that made me feel like giving you a chance... Don''t take this personally but for a little bit there, I resented you because in the process of saving you, I lost a lot of stuff. We also ended up having to leave earlier than we night have but that''s just an if. If the will of Amoril hadn''t been trying to erase you, I might have eventually ran into a situation where it would have came after me anyway.


    "You''ve grown on me though. I''m starting to see you like a little brother. I also admire your grit... I know you''re working through a lot and I''m not going to act like I understand but I want you to know I''m here for you if you need me. If you don''t feel like talking we can always just go fishing or look at the stars, whatever helps you untangle the knots."


    Duran relaxed and snaked an arm around Orison''s back into a one armed side hug. Suddenly, a little flash surrounded Duran and he looked a little ''more real''. The young mage realized overcoming adversity could take many forms. It made Orison curious as to what the adversity the kid had overcome but it was a bad time to get sidetracked.


    Orison turned his head to look at the scout. "Gan, you''re my best friend, my right hand man. We''ve been through so much crap together that I''d have no reason to stop you from walking away but it would hurt like hell if you did... God, just thinking what I''m about to say makes me feel like crawling under a rock but here goes... I love you, man. Outside of my theoretical future lover, what''s mine is yours.


    "There isn''t a word in my dictionary of what to call family that seems right so it''s hard to answer your question. Let me say this instead. If you killed someone in front of me, my first question wouldn''t be ''why did you do it?'' it would be ''where are we going to dump the body?''. Please tell me you understand what I''m trying to say."


    Gan''s grim look faded back to normal and he said, "I feel like an ass for making you say all that but it just hit me hard how different the boy I made you out to be in my mind was to the man you are. That isn''t your fault but I needed to hear that. Just let me rough up your hair one last time, Little Boss, and then I''ll work through the rest of my dumb sh*t."


    With the patient tolerance of a martyr, Orison endured Gan turning his head into a bird''s nest. That patience was tested greatly when the scout invited Duran to join in but it was a one time deal and he didn''t want to break the mood.


    As Orison contemplated the pros and cons of baldness, he said, "Alright, I had to lay the heavy. Either of you need to unburden some hard to say stuff be fore I pack up the ''safe place'' vibe and get down to grown-up business?... Gan, one embarrassing statement from you is mandatory, all else is on a voluntary basis only."


    With a mischievous glint in his eye, Gan said, "I love you too, Little Boss. I''d like a hug."


    Orison snorted. "Drink some more and hug a chamber pot. You already f***ed my hair up. I think that''s enough touchy feely stuff for one day."


    While Orison dodged Gan''s halfhearted attempts to grapple him, a contemplative Duran said, "I like girls."


    Seeing that Gan was about to say something that would be far from a supportive statement, Orison quickly beat the scout to the punch. "That''s important stuff to know. I''m glad you figured out more about your-"


    Duran raised his hand, his head pulling off a fairly convincing act of disguising itself as a tomato as he said, "I only feel the itch... thinking about girls but..."


    Orison suddenly realized he was about to hear something he probably didn''t want to. Similar to watching a train wreck happen in slow motion, he found himself unable to turn away even though the end result wasn''t something he wanted to witness. It didn''t help that Gan had a ''where''s popcorn when you need it?'' face.


    Through a process that made Orison wonder if having his ears melted off by a wasp grudge was less painful, Duran finally managed to express that thoughts of girls might be what got the party started but it was hard to pop the cork without some extra mechanical considerations. As much as Orison would have liked to pretend he''d never heard the confession or the questions that followed it, Duran had already been through enough without having someone make him feel ashamed. The young mage had no doubt that it had taken all the courage the boy had and all the trust he''d built with Orison to say it.


    Ignoring Gan''s look of schadenfreude and his own inner cringing, Orison gave a dry and clinical biology lesson as quickly as he could. He then offered what little dependable knowledge he had on the subject before putting Gan on the spotlight to answer any technical questions. After shooting a warning look at the scout to take it seriously, Orison excused himself. Finding a nice spot where he didn''t have to hear gory details but could flash Gan daggers, he indulged in a little carefully hidden joy in Gan''s misery.


    When Gan started giving Orison pitiful visual entreaties to be let off the hook, the young mage swooped back in. "Let''s pack the rest of that up for now, Duran. We''ve got other things to talk about and we''ve burned a good deal of the day already... Gan, focus on your crystal and tell me if it''s giving you any feelings of directing you somewhere."


    Gan closed his eyes and was silent for awhile before he said. "It''s hard to sense but yeah. Is that bad?"


    Orison shook his head. "That''s our next destination. Depending on what we find there will determine what we do next."


    As Orison began constructing the model for beacon teleport, he suddenly stopped. "Gan, how did you still have a bottle of mead with miasma in it? That doesn''t make any sense. This isn''t Amoril. The moment the Heart of Osomo caught a whiff of that stuff, it would be gone. Look around, man. The bottle''s already been taken!"


    Looking a little cloudy eyed, Gan said, "All I had in my inventory was the beer you don''t like. I... don''t really know.??


    Orison turned to Duran. "While you were talking with Gan, you managed to get pretty chatty there for a bit. Do you think you still can?"


    Similar cloudy look on his face, Duran replied, "No."


    The young mage said, "I think we might owe Mylar an apology. He doesn''t have to know that though... High alert, you two."


    Orison closed his eyes and focused on a strong desire to connect with the Danann Key. Nothing happened. As soon as he gave up, believing that he''d overthought it, he felt a connection. Caught off guard, Orison fumbled to send a command too late to be any good as the connection closed again. Fortunately, he was just the decoy.


    A sensuous woman''s voice dripping with mockery was getting ready to say some scathing remark when the tithe that Orison''s sub-mind had called from Rozcherek came in. It was a pitiful amount but what Orison wanted was a reliable connection anyway. While the young mage worked on making a best case scenario happen, his sub-mind overclocked trying to make more practical and realistic things happen.


    Many things happened at once but the thing that Orison was trying to accomplish himself was ruined by a beautiful but scary looking woman with literal fire for hair who dived through him in a hazy smoke-like state. She had managed to capture the diminishing connection with Rozchereck''s realm but not before Orison''s space had peeled a layer off of her in the process. As a spiritual being, she must have been in immense pain but she whispered a ''thank you'' anyway as she slipped right through the clutches of Osomo.


    The Danann Key, that Orison had physically held in his hand for less than a tenth of a second, had already zipped through Droya''s tithe connection and into her hand right as the connection closed back off. The faint afterimage of her surprised face as a box fell into her lap while her mind was assaulted by a mental message on what to do with it marked the end of Orison''s trick play. The young mage had barely registered the fading Caribbean blue flash of spiritual light around himself and his two companions before the tower started shaking.


    Constructing a beacon model, Orison yelled for his companions to run towards the glowing transport sigil. Right as he finished, while the tower began falling, Orison released his model. The last thing Orison wanted was to go through an official transporter channel while the Danann Key''s effects on them were only taking hold. For all he knew, the transporter would clean and adjust the hard won benefit he just earned them right off.


    Appearing in a border village at the edge of Sek controlled territory, Orison failed to initiate another model as the three of them passed out for a few seconds. Coming to with a start, the three men were being carried back to a healer''s hut. Trying not to spook the guy carrying him, Orison calmly asked the man to put him down. After an apology and a few gold, Orison lead his companions back to the transporter as he constructed another model, sending them beyond the desert in the direction that Gan''s purified crystal was pointing them.


    Flashing into a sparsely vegetated area and seeing that Orison was building another model, about to ask the scout which direction again, Gan held up his hands. "Wait, wait! I''m dizzy as the Abyss. Give me a few breaths to get myself put together again... Maybe you can tell us what just happened in the meantime?"


    The young mage consulted his sub-mind so that HE knew exactly what happened. "Okay but just so we''re clear, I had no idea things would get that intense. I was making a wild toss to see if I could get lucky... I''m pretty sure the tower was being ran by a djinn or genie. It really did grant wishes in a manner of speaking. Thing is, in most tales they either don''t like doing it or like to twist the wishes. In this gal''s case, I think the Heart of Osomo set some pretty harsh guidelines on how her power works so she outright sabotages them with some other ability.


    "My conduit is still on Amoril. I just ''wished'' that I could reach it. By default, she tried to screw with me but I''ve got a way around that. Due to that work around, I opened a different connection to my conduit. Using that, I did a little tweak on us with my conduit and then sent a care package home. I didn''t think the crazy lady would try to use the channel I opened to Roz''s plane as an escape hatch. Without a genie, I guess the tower''s done for."


    Gesturing around, Gan asked, "Could you have got us... out?"


    Orison said, "To Roz''s plane maybe. I doubt we''ll suddenly be welcomed back on Amoril. The will of that place was trying to kill us when we left. I think we shouldn''t try going back there until we''re strong enough to keep from being erased first. And I don''t know about you but being stuck on Roz''s plane sounds pretty bad too. Remember how Lily got turned into a living mummy lady? She was a fourth step, Gan."


    Frustrated, Gan said, "Wasn''t there maybe some way you could have... I don''t know, wished us out of this world directly?"


    Orison sighed then said in falsetto, "Oh, you wish to leave this world? That''s simple, just die. Would you rather I sent you to the Abyss in front of a being much more powerful than you? How about to a vast expanse of nothingness or one of another thousand scenarios you can''t survive?... Gosh, you''re picky."


    Adopting a serious expression and normal tone of voice Orison said, "If you ever find yourself being offered easy gains or special favors by unknown supernatural forces, better to aim too low than too high. Even the good ones don''t like greedy people and I think there''s probably far more of the ''screw you over'' variety to begin with."


    Patience reaching a low point, Duran cut in. "What did you do to us?"


    Scanning with spirit sight first, Orison said, "You''d be better off asking Wick. They took over... Gan, you look a little more like yourself in the best possible way. We even managed to get your knee scar back. I can''t tell you a damn thing about the internal stuff. Your soul''s finally strong enough to passively block my sight but until it gets a chance to settle, I don''t want to go poking around.


    "Alright, enough d*cking around. Let''s put at least one more jump between us and Sek. If we don''t appear in some garbage dump of a place, then we''ll rent a room and get a fresh start early tomorrow... No drinking tonight, Gan. Healer''s orders."


    A few moments later, the party of three disappeared in a curtain of light, cutting off Gan''s complaints.

 87 Crystal Cage 25

    It ended up taking two more jumps before the group found a decent spot just outside the beginning of a jungle. After a round of heavy resupplying, Orison got his group tucked into a tiny house style rental with a courtesy private courtyard. Taking advantage to synchronize their morning schedule, Orison stayed up a part of the night working his way through three cycles of training before cleaning up and getting some rest himself.


    The next morning, the young mage dismissed the twenty-four hour warning by Osomo that his family status was about to be suspended for dereliction of duties as he skimmed through his messages to make sure no one he knew was trying to reach him. After discarding all the names he didn''t know and flagging ex-royal family hate mail, he left it for Osomo to deal with. Next, he read through what essentially was just updates on chaos with promises to give new information once someone actually knew something worth relating.


    Orison thought, "I''m sure Mo, I mean, King Moskvander considers his incredibly stuffy and formal public coronation to be highly important but I wouldn''t go to that even if I was paid to. You can really tell the difference between people when stuff like this happens. I thought I was going to laugh myself to tears when I read that Emris is going to throw a barbecue for his nearest and dearest to celebrate the return of his Ward family''s royal honor."


    Shaking himself out of private thoughts, Orison turned around to see Gan poking his bleary eyed head out to see what the young mage was chuckling about.


    "Who are you flexing topless for? This is a private courtyard, Gan." Orison sighed in exasperation at the total lack of vigilance his friend was portraying.


    Gan said, "I need you to mend my gear. It''s too tight."


    From inside, they heard Duran say, "It''s done."


    While Gan looked over his equipment for something to nitpick, the young mage and guardian went to get the last freshly prepared meal they might have for a few days. "Remind me to go apesh*t on Gan the next time he complains that I slept my way to greater fitness. Part of me is hoping he makes the mistake of trying to grow that peach fuzz he''s sporting into a full beard while we traipse through the jungle."


    Seeing the lack of comprehension on Duran''s face, Orison explained. "It''ll itch like crazy."


    Duran replied, "Gan told me he misses his beard."


    The boy grew contemplative for a moment before he looked back at Orison in shock.


    Orison smiled wryly and said, "Yup. You can talk like a regular person if you want to. It doesn''t do a thing for how you feel about talking or what being nervous and scatterbrained will do to how you talk but now you won''t struggle to form complete sentences. The damage to your spiritual seat should be resolved completely now."


    Feeling a little unsure how he should breach the subject, Orison said, "I didn''t have a lot of time and my sub-mind had to make a lot of hard calls quickly. I could only heal you through the father''s side of your blood and my conduit took it upon itself to alter that to be a bit more like my spiritual blood is."


    Duran shrugged. "Wick thinks the gold dots are pretty. It''s fine."


    The young mage was about to ask Gan a question as the scout slogged his way over to them but then what Duran said fully registered. "You said gold dots? They''re not a bluish or greenish color at all?"


    Duran closed his eyes and communed with Wick as Gan dully shoveled his portion of breakfast in. After a couple of minutes, Duran confirmed that his spiritual blood motes were gold and that Wick said they ''tasted'' faintly of heat and metal. Wick also had Duran tell Orison that Gan had silver ones that ''tasted'' cool and metallic.


    Gan said, "If Wick is licking everybody, what does our little boss taste like?"


    With black lines running down his face, Orison said, "That''s sounds wrong on so many levels..."


    Duran said, "Where lightning strikes the sea? There''s too many things at once."


    Orison muttered, "Maybe there were more than one tribe? There were more than one elven race on Amoril."


    The young mage decided to pack it away to think about later. "Since breakfast is pretty much done and everyone is functional, let''s get this expedition underway. Yesterday, you said that we''re getting close enough for the drawing sensation to get stronger, Gan. Today, we''re going to do a couple more jumps to see if we can triangulate which starting point is closest and then make sure that there aren''t any overt death threats."


    Everyone on the same page, Orison beacon teleported two more times. Two hours of morning burnt after a little consulting with a local retired Chosen, they were ready to forge out. With sudden stinging rain that only lasted for a few minutes, harassing local wildlife and fairly dangerous terrain hazards, the brief feeling of awe and appreciation for the lush jungle quickly dwindled.


    Six hours out, Gan stopped the group. "Up til now we''ve been in the zone classified as safe for Children to access things but from here on, it''s the stomping ground for lower mid ranged Chosen. It looks like your guess was right, Little Boss. Our destination is going to put us in the Deep Green. Not too far ahead, there''s a gully called The Gem Vault. I''d suggest calling it an early day and using the place to camp. If we started in the morning from there, we could push through to Clay Barrows between thirty to thirty-six hours."


    Orison considered and saw no reason to deny a small delay. As far as the young mage knew, there wasn''t any pressing matter that would cause them to not make their destination but he had a faint premonition that if they took it too easy, something might stop them from getting there. It was a small feeling at the moment but after the ''Night of Horrors'', he payed close attention to his intuition.


    Around an hour later, the trio walked into the entrance of The Gem Vault. It was eerily silent. Aside from a few guards in a pensive mood there were no other visible personnel at the mining site. After a quick chat, it was discovered that due to the fall of Fortune''s royal family and a growing magic energy crisis, operations had been temporarily suspended. The trio weren''t restricted from any part of the gully as long as they didn''t approach the equipment warehouse.


    With a good chunk of daylight left, after they ate a quick meal, the three ''visitors'' decided they''d go check out the main emerald mine. Not too far past the entrance of the mine, Orison cast out a light. The suddenly revealed off duty guard froze in his tracks. A few seconds later the man started chuckling sheepishly.


    The ropy muscled, long armed rabbit beast man introduced himself as Theo. "Sorry if I spooked ya. I figured I''d take advantage of the situation to snag a couple of gems but without all the other personnel, the tunnels have been reclaimed by chirping beetles. They aren''t that dangerous but if you make too much noise and scare em'' they''ll hit you with a confusion. There''s a lot of ways to accidentally die in here if your confused."


    Since they were here primarily as a chance to net Gan some ''satisfaction''. Orison let him handle the situation.


    Gan chuckled and said, "Yeah, I could see how that would shut your idea down. Tell you what. If you show us around, our little buddy Duran over there can probably get you a couple."


    Theo''s eyes lit up. "You''re a miner profession?"


    Duran shot Gan a slightly annoyed look but nodded at the excited beast man.


    The rabbit eared man quickly agreed. "I wanted to take mining but my mother pressured me into taking herbalist and dismantling instead. They let me take this job because it''s pretty safe and remote." Chuckling in false humor, he added, "If I hadn''t became a Chosen I think mom and my aunt would have broke my legs to keep me from leaving."


    As Theo lead them deeper into the tunnels towards a place simply called Quartz Cave, he regaled the group with increasingly more candid stories of his home life. Gan seemed interested enough, although horrified at how controlling Theo''s family was. Duran was agitated and seemed to pity the rabbit man while Orison used a dagger to clean his fingernails, bored out of his mind.


    Walking past yet another large dog sized armor tank of a beetle shelled cricket, Orison asked why talking didn''t bother them. Theo shrugged and went back to sharing some other random factoid about his home that Orison found Gan and Duran to unfortunately be riveted by. The young mage pushed down a dark image of Theo being torn apart by pruning shear sized mandibles.


    Once they reached an old stone bridge over a chasm, Theo said, "From here on until we reach the cave, we need to be as quite as possible. There''s these things that drop from the ceiling and if they wrap around your head they''ll have your skull open and slurping down your cottage cheese in seconds. If they miss you though, they''re easy pickings and they have good loot too. When there''s mining going on, they tend to make themselves scarce but they''ll probably be out in larger numbers than usual right now."


    Gan and Orison shared a look before the young mage''s eyes let off a faint glow. Contrary to his earlier feelings about it, the young mage encouraged Theo to share stories as he and Gan scanned their environment. Taking point, Duran kept Orison from tripping over things while Gan stayed at the ready with his bow out. Theo was nervous at first but after a couple of umbrella shaped creatures were sniped before even getting close, the rabbit man eased into his role as bait even though he looked like he was moments away from trying to climb into Gan''s back pocket.


    Orison was almost disappointed when they reached their destination. After the condensing of crystal into tiny little glowing motes had finished, it was already sparse looking around his new upgraded Osomo spark formation. Using the Danann Key had all but completely cleared it out again. While the proud looking rabbit man lead Duran and Gan around the light refractive cavern, Orison sat by a clear basin of water formed near the center, inspecting himself with spirit sight.


    Satisfied that everything inside was back to a relatively natural looking state of asymmetry where it should, Orison was about to join them when traces of something was picked up in the basin. Little tadpole marks at the bottom sparkled in the young mage''s spirit sight. At first, they didn''t make any sense to him until he had rotated around the basin some. It suddenly clicked where he saw something similar.


    Within the memories from the First Family children''s trainer were a couple of simple songs placed within to demonstrate how to read sheet music. His sub-mind had removed most of the nonsense but had kept the gist of that particular part. Unfortunately, reading and being able to sing it were two different stories.


    Orison called out. "Theo, didn''t you say that your mom had you join choir for a couple of years?"


    The rabbit man looked up from where he was ogling some bit of the wall with Gan. The split second of frustration that the scout shot him had Orison baffled but the thrill of accidental discovery had his full attention at the moment. After cutting Theo off from a retelling, Orison described the notes to see if the tune might be familiar. Between a person who could read the music but not sing it and a singer who couldn''t read it after it had been copied, it became a trial and error process for awhile. That process became far more stress inducing when a timer message went off from Orison''s spark.


    Running through a spartan musical drill session, Orison managed to ''beat'' the right musical sequence out of Theo, using everything just shy of physical violence, with less than a half of a minute left. Spurring bad childhood memories almost had the man in tears but all was forgiven as soon as a portion of the cavern''s back wall slid in and over.


    As an unspoken apology for being somewhat of a jerk, the young mage tolerated the surge of animated victory dancing, yells and rounds of excited physical contact Theo was dolling out to everyone. Fortunately, the rabbit man wasn''t completely oblivious to Orison and Duran''s discomfort and threw most of his enthusiasm at Gan who was happy to return some. Seeing Orison and Duran moving towards the secret opening, Theo stopped trying to climb the scout and jogged after them.


    At the end of the secret passageway was a set of doors that looked as if someone had cut through them with a blow torch. The funny thing was, as Duran and Orison approached, they were scanned and the remnants of the doors opened. It seemed pretty obvious that the previous visitors hadn''t taken kindly to being barred entrance.


    The next room was circular and riddled with a honeycomb of hexagonal panels. Judging by the superficial damage marks and intact set of doors on the other side, the visitors hadn''t made it very far. Despite obvious Osomo design, Orison couldn''t help but draw parallels between this place and the deceased artificer''s Construct Three.


    Once they had reached the second set of double doors that didn''t open to them, the young mage turned to Duran and asked, "You got the engineering gig added to your list of duties. Is there any requests for this place?"


    Duran closed his eyes and around a minute later said, "This place isn''t listed. Some family members had private facilities. Maybe this is one of those?"


    Orison said, "With the authority invested in me by the council, I demand entry."


    The young mage felt an invisible scan once more and a monotone voice said, "Please leave your name and a brief message. *****''s personal assistant will schedule your appointment for the nearest available time."


    Fighting irritation, Orison said, "The owner is deceased and line of inheritance has been disrupted. All properties and assets require itemization to be submitted to the council."


    As soon as the doors opened, Orison saw a myriad of activity within the facilities with spirit sight before everything went dark except for a beating heart-like object a couple of floors down.


    Orison growled, "Trolling douche bag!"


    With everyone looking at him, Orison explained. "Best guess, I activated a search and seizure protocol. Everything potentially incriminating has been locked down and the whole compound''s been powered off."


    Duran told Orison, "Security is still on. This level''s safe but past that it won''t be safe for them."


    The young mage took in the disappointment on Gan and Theo''s faces. "Alright, you two. Sweep this floor. A lot happened quickly but I caught sight of three secret stashes. One''s in the kitchen under the pantry''s floor. There''s another behind a cabinet in the bathroom and there''s a big one in the master quarters that are locked the same way as the front door was.


    "You guys work on that while we check out their basement and what I guess is a warehouse. Don''t get bummed out. If my guesses are even close to the truth, all their main wealth will still be up here. That stuff down there are just their big toys and some illegal junk."


    Before Orison had even finished, Theo had taken off to find the first hidden stash with a nearly manic grin.


    Not really able to do much about Gan''s flagging enthusiasm, Orison said, "Preservation methods are pretty amazing for these guys. Who knows what you''ll find in the kitchen. Since the outer door''s closed, we won''t need a sentry tonight. You can cut loose some as long as you stop early."


    Gan turned slowly to follow Theo with a weak smile on his face. Suddenly, the scout''s smile became wider with a trace of predatory gleam as if he had a wicked epiphany.


    Sighing in mock depression, Gan said. "I got it, Little Boss. How much time do you think you''ll be down there?"


    Orison shrugged. "A good sweep will probably at least take two hours. Depending on how tough certain areas will be to manually open, we could be busy til I give up at midnight."


    Duran said, "I''ll be there to keep him safe. Don''t worry."


    Gan reached over to give Duran a shoulder pat.


    Before he walked off, the scout said, "You''re a good kid. Message me when you''re heading back up."


    Some time later, as Orison pulled off the maintenance panel on the door that led from the second level to the third, he said, "We haven''t seen a single bit of threatening security. I mean, I get trying to keep the rabbit man from trailing down here and seeing potentially useful secrets but I thought you were serious."


    Duran said, "It was Gan''s idea. He messaged me to say that. I thought you already knew."


    A light bulb that had been flickering in the back of Orison''s mind just clicked on. "Oh. He was volunteering for baby setting duty as soon as I said the place was powered down."


    Looking confused, Duran was about to ask questions when Orison cut him off. "He probably thought he might have an opportunity to make a new friend when he realized it might take us awhile."


    To keep the boy from asking anymore questions he didn''t want to answer, Orison showed Duran how the manual overrides worked.


    As the young mage slid another triangular piece into place, he thought, "No wonder the old artificer tested for this. His inheritance probably covered all kinds of ways to break into these First Family places. That old man sure was ambitious. I knew he was ultimately trying to free this world from their dead masters but had he found some clues on how to do that?"


    With one last solid snapping sound, The thick bolts in the door released. On the second floor, there had been a rather generous amount of strictly controlled pharmaceuticals and the method of their creation so Orison had high expectations of the third. He wasn''t disappointed.

 88 Crystal Cage 26

    The contents of the relatively modest room were easily overlooked for a moment as Orison spied a grand sight out of a wide two-way mirror on the other side. In a huge hanger that rivaled the entirety of space in the underground facility/safe room home, floated two airships suspended in a magical stasis field. From their vantage point inside, Orison and Duran looked out to see that one of the ships was in pristine condition while the smaller one was in moderate disrepair.


    A more detailed observation of the smaller one revealed a grizzly sight. On it''s deck, nearly a dozen people were in varying degrees of dying or death at the moment when their personal time stopped. A quick glance over the mechanics of the field made it clear that the ''dying'' ones only appeared to be possibly saved because even if they had been alive at the time the field sprang up, the field itself had killed them. It wasn''t some kind of sleeping beauty styled stasis. It was the magical equivalent of freeze drying and vacuum sealing.


    Seeing Duran''s hopeful look, Orison said, "None of them are alive. Buuuut, for those that are The Children, we can save two each via re-spawning. We just have to contrive some reason why they need to be questioned related to our official duties. There''s not a whole lot we can do about soul fading directly unless we can figure out a reason why they should be compensated by Osomo.


    "Before that, we should handle this business and get as much out of our find as we can first. I don''t know what''s on your countdown clock before suspension but I still have over eight hours. You?"


    Duran closed his eyes for a second and then said, "Same."


    The young mage cobbled a rough time table together. "We''ll work on opening the two hidden safes and collecting all the power sources except the main one for four hours. We''ll take a bit of time to comb through the ships and make our decisions about who to save then figure out what we can do about the ships themselves. It''s all play by ear after that but we are done with lock breaking after midnight.


    "It might seem a bit callous but we are on an invisible clock. I want to be done with finding what Gan''s crystal is pointing at before the alarm goes off. OUR very easily seen suspension timer hits at three in the morning. So whatever we decide to do, that''s got to be in the back of our minds moving forward."


    Duran gave a firm agreement before getting to work on a power cell locker. With a quick message to Gan that they''d be busy until after midnight and possibly bringing up guests sometime afterwards, Orison got to work too. The small handful of hours alloted to their efforts were eaten away quickly and when there were only a few minutes left, Orison took stock of their finds.


    The vast majority were power supplies and spare parts for the ships. After what little they kept for themselves and the smaller ship, Orison set provisional owner of the larger vessel to Emris. The reason being that after three in the morning, Osomo blessed monarchs would be the only people in the world who would be authorized to use it.


    Out of the pile of First Family devices and relics, absolutely nothing was of any use to them in a practical sense, legal or otherwise. There were just too many restrictions on them. That did nothing to cramp Duran''s joy over their discovery, however. They just went to enrich, in whatever mysterious way they could, Duran''s ''black hole key''.


    The only meaningful discovery that was of any direct value to Orison was a chest of unregistered and incomplete crystal sparks. It had been some time since Orison had seen the purer eternium variety of crystal but as of that moment he had quite the collection of it. There was even five of the super condensed ones that First Family used.


    After careful consideration, Orison decided to use the weakest of the five as the core of his space''s formation, as it was the only one his space could strip and convert without rupturing. Three of the remaining four would be passed off to Gan, Rithus and Ivan. With Duran having no use for another and the young mage already possessing the one Osomo had gifted him, that left Orison with a grand total of three that would likely take a significant amount of time to fully make his own.


    Turning their attention back to the elephant in the room, Duran and Orison bent themselves to the task of determining who would be spared from permanent death out of the passengers of the smaller ship. As they made their way across the deck, Orison mentally marked and told Duran which passengers'' souls were still present. Once they were below deck, the cause of death was easily determined.


    As silent and emotionless as a grim reaper, Orison moved among the frozen people, ripping the souls and inventory out of every pirate-like individual timelessly caught in the act of murdering and violating their way through the bowels of the vessel. Each new acquisition did little to stir his interest. That changed at the back of the ship.


    Orison had no idea how long this ship had been here but it most definitely predated the passing of the First Family. At a guess, it couldn''t have been by much, however. The strange discharge of abilities standing motionless in the air were secondarily marked by piles of dust sifting to the floor. On one side, a black orb was caught in the process of discharging an oval or rent space with a tendril of hard to look at substance poking out. On the other, an ancient looking stone sundial cast a golden translucent dome around four women in various stages of disintegrating into dust piles.


    Of note, there were two people of interest in the room. The first was a little over seven foot tall blue skinned man who stood before the dome, looking like he was trying to block what was coming with his body alone. The second was a delicate looking hooded figure reaching toward the foot of the blue man, bleeding out on the floor. Whatever protective measure the hooded figure was trying to cast, it was a futile gesture. The emanation off of the tendril had already partially shredded most of the blue man''s soul.


    Oddly enough, to spirit sight, there was even more going on that was just too difficult to explain. What Orison could make sense of was the presence of a soul whose body was gone but their aura envelope was completely intact as if they were alive. Making his own inspections, Duran walked right through the spiritual entity. The boy shuddered and then looked at Orison in surprise. "Wick is putting someone back together!"


    As Duran ran out of the ship with a quick explanation that he needed to get close to the main power supply, the blue man disappeared in a curtain of transporter light. Orison chose the hooded person and the maid that was cowering behind the gold dome. Sadly, the young mage didn''t expect that any of their selections would make it through except for the accidentally snagged spirit person. All of the souls that remained on the ship were badly faded or seriously damaged in the blue man''s case.


    Before leaving the ship himself, Orison leached off the concepts from the border of the rent space oval til it closed, careful not to touch the orb or tendril. The orb was useless but carried trace corruption and the tendril was still owned by something far above his pay grade. Fortunately, closing the oval seemed to automatically send it back.


    The trace amount of concept that still remained in the dome and sundial might not have been too appealing for his space but his spiritual bloodline took it in. The trace wasn''t much but apparently whatever force that governed his fey heritage recognized the value of seeing even a little as being better than nothing. With one last look to make sure he didn''t miss anything, Orison placed a few parts and power cells in it''s ''engine room'' and set provisional ownership to Mo.


    Walking over to the transporter near the main power supply, Orison was surprised to see that both the hooded figure and the blue man had made it through. Not only that, but the hooded figure was even awake with several glass ampules releasing an azure mist around them. The lion''s share was absorbed by the hooded person but a few small wafts made it to the blue man''s unconscious form.


    The young mage''s hopes for the hooded figure to be an ethereal beauty were broken in the cruelest way possible. As the figure lowered their hood, it was impossible to deny that they were aesthetically appealing. The problem was that this particular ''beauty'' had an adam''s apple. The faint presence of kinship Orison felt from his spiritual blood, however, had the young mage kindle optimism of a different kind.


    In an irritatingly pleasant to hear alto-tenor, the hooded man said, "I see that there is interrogation protocol set on this transporter circle. I pray that doesn''t mean we are prisoners."


    Orison said, "No. it''s just the only way we had to save anyone from the airship. It''s... been sitting here for a very long time. As long as I have your word that you''ll do my group and I no harm, I''ll take the isolation field on the transporter down."


    The pale, silver haired elf said, "I assume that means the lock on Osomo supported abilities will be in place for awhile then."


    The young mage shrugged. "I think they stay in place for a default period. It looks like I can clear you and your friend here for ten percent backlogged compensation for service... Done."


    The unconscious blue man and the elven man flickered out for a split second.


    The elven man looked through his inventory and presumably his messages for a few minutes before packing away a great deal of heavy emotion with practiced ease. "Well, distant cousin, I''m certain that we have many questions for each other. Until such time as we part ways or you attempt to harm us first, I will speak for myself and in assurance of my... associate, to cause no harm to you and yours intentionally."


    Giving Gan a heads up that they''d be on their way soon with guests, Orison disconnected the temporal field generator from the main power supply. Moments later, the airships remote opened a hatch above them and were auto piloting themselves to their new provisional owners. Anticipating questions, the young mage messaged Emris and Mo about the sensitive nature of the airships and requested them to ''not look a gift horse in the mouth''.


    In front of the stunned elven man, whose name was Pelenel, Duran and Orison dismantled the field generator while Duran ''ate'' it. With all the important things done that he was willing to spend time on, Orison logged that the ''questioning'' was done which set Pelenel and Gravat, the unconscious blue man, free. With an insistence on taking responsibility, Duran hefted the blue man over his shoulder like an overly long bag of potatoes and they made their way back to the first floor.


    When they reached the top, Orison was greeted by a worn out but alert Gan. Freshly bathed and dressed, it was likely that only the young mage could tell that the scout was still a little tipsy. Entertaining Theo to an unconscious state had been quite the trial but Gan wasn''t complaining and Orison didn''t care for details.


    After another round of assurances was given and received, Duran got Gravat laid out before settling himself in and Gan went back to the assistant''s quarters next to the master quarters that the scout had subconsciously claimed for Orison. Despite Pelenel''s obvious need for sleep, the elven man and Orison seemed to be on the same page. Both of them had too many questions to rest easy.


    Seeing that Pelenel was keen on formality, Orison begged off delicate wordplay for less constrained times and requested for rude bluntness instead. "Perhaps that is better. To answer your questions easier, distant cousin, where do you hail from? Aside from that poor family of deer folk captured by the second overlord, there are no greater fey who can claim this world as home truly."


    Orison said, "Physically, I come from a place called Amoril. Spiritually, I''m from there and a place called Earth both. Earth is a little third rock from the sun in a remote solar system of the Milky Way galaxy. We haven''t reached interstellar travel yet but we''re slowly getting there, I think, maybe."


    Orison thought to himself, "Being completely candid might not be the smartest move but I need to take some chances if I want answers. Besides, he''s family in a sense, and I can tell he''s at least a little positively inclined towards me since he''s drawn in his glamour and everything."


    The young mage took a few minutes to get Pelenel up to date on current affairs and answered a couple of questions about the non-existent state of the First Family as a courtesy after explaining his own situation and then handed it over to the elven man.


    "With all the overlords and even the lesser family gone, there''s actually more than one way to ''climb'' out of Osomo. The only way for a fresh climber with no boundary baptisms to do it would be to pass the rift guardian at the bottom of Glass Pit several days south of Shadow''s Reach mountain unless they can get aid from the outside. For those who have been baptized like you and I, we can feel a way to supersede reality. "With no overlords to deny your exit, once your strength of existence reaches a certain threshold, Osomo will no longer bar your way. There are a myriad amount of cheats and shortcuts but I wouldn''t suggest taking them. No reality is inherently superior to another for advancement and safety is an illusion. Of course, there''s no hard, fast rule to climbing. There are always exceptions.


    " As far as being a Danann tribesman goes, I''m afraid that I''m an awakened member much like yourself. I do know that meeting another with the blood will naturally make you more inclined towards them. Similarly, there is a bloodline that will have the opposite effect that belongs to the Fomorian tribe. All that I can verify without possibly leading you astray is that both we and the Formorians are far flung," Pelenel explained.


    Orison asked, "What do you know about glamour and spiritual intent? Can you help me understand how to train and control it beyond merely pulling back the reigns?"


    The elven man became awkward. "That could take months to get you started and years to satisfactorily comprehend. There are many things that I and my associate must attend to before we''d go our separate ways. Such a commitment is no less than the debt I owe you but there are other, older debts that must be paid first."


    Orison pulled out the miniature trainer device he had taken from Construct Three and said, "Would this help? I''m sure there are many parts that can''t be taught so simply but I could at least be working on the basics. You know as well as I do that a lot of things can happen in just a couple of days with ''climbers''. I wouldn''t want to miss out completely if something kept us from meeting again."


    Pelenel frowned as he stared at the small device. "Never mind my view on the shallowness of learning anything other than pure academics in such a fashion. There are dangerous parts in the initial stages of establishment that could maim if not outright kill you without personal guidance or slow and careful procedure."


    Orison said, "Are you talking about the establishment of cycles between spiritual, magical and physical reserves? If so, I may have succeeded in that already."


    Curious, Pelenel asked, "May I see? I need to make small contact to a special point on your chest and-"


    Orison sighed as he pulled his shirt up. "Don''t push your intent past the dark spot behind my heart point. I''m pretty sure I can stop it in time but I have very little control of my intent beyond keeping it contained. It might nip at you."


    Forewarned, the elven man carefully extended a feeler of spiritual intent into Orison. The young mage noted that Pelenel''s method of examination was so smooth it was almost like ice melting into a towel. It also took quite a bit longer. Orison simply figured that the elven man had taken the warning to heart and was proceeding with diligent caution. Skirting around Orison''s space and the threshold of the young mage''s spiritual seat, Pelenel was professional and thorough without giving the impression of being intrusive or snooping.


    Retracting his intent and hand, Pelenel opened his eyes and said, "I think this must be how the cycle of the first ancestors looked. It''s crude and filled with inefficiency but more personally attuned, natural and resilient."


    The elven man picked up the miniature trainer and felt into it without activating the device. "Nearly a third of this trainer is currently being used. I can fit the basics in it along with some guiding experience. I could have added a few models too but it''s already been partitioned once. There''s a slice of about a tenth that''s locked away here and the memories in these things can become corrupted if you try to put more than two dividing places in them."


    Perking up, Orison said, "There''s a locked portion? Is there any way to see it?"


    The elven man smiled wryly, "How about we handle your glamour and intent exercises first."

 89 Crystal Cage 27

    Loading the trainer had exhausted the last of Pelenel''s will to resist falling into trance. Unwilling to disturb the elven man, Orison made his way to the master quarters. A faint sound of running water drew the young mage past a personal bathroom into an area with a waterfall shower and soaking tub that were alternatively too cold and too warm to be comfortable but Orison had to admit it had been some time since he had felt so thoroughly clean after he was finished using them.


    Returning to the room with a solid metal platform that had once been the frame for a bed, the young mage laid out a bedroll with some extra padding and activated the trainer. Entrusting the sorting of new information to his sub-mind Orison let himself fall into trance as well. Under other circumstances, Orison wouldn''t have been so hasty to stuff information into his head right before rest but he had wanted an opportunity to ask questions of the elven man in the morning had any came up.


    Orison''s decision had some unforeseen side effects. Pelenel hadn''t had an opportunity to tell Orison that he had unlocked the partitioned space, for one. For another, writing peoples memories and experiences into your own mind while in trance made a person highly sensitive to them. It blurred the line between one''s self identity and the individual''s recorded memories, if only temporarily.


    In case of Pelenel''s training, it made little difference. The man was a master of emotional and recollection control. He shared not a single bit more than he had meant to. Had that been the only thing that Orison took in, it would have been a good thing overall.


    A second set of memories belonged to a man who''s sole purpose for recording them was to remind himself who he was. Each part was steeped in preserved emotional vividness. If it hadn''t been filtered through Beta, it could have had unknown and lasting consequences for Orison. As it was, a slightly longer than four hour amount of time melted away and Orison came to confused as to who he was until reality reasserted itself.


    At first, the young mage struggled to understand why his sub-mind would allow even what it had through but he realized it was because of experience. The man was a fourth step climber and a person deeply in love with life. The memories showed him a perspective on how to deal with lifetimes of emotional baggage.


    It also showed how to do many things that would allow him to fit into different kinds of scenarios the young mage might find himself in as he climbed. There were even a few things he would be much better at than before he''d have been too embarrassed to seek guidance in. Most importantly there were a few things he''d never want to experience himself directly to practice, like surviving torture, enslavement and bouts of grief induced insanity.


    That wasn''t to say that there weren''t some things that the young mage wished he could floss out of his brain but those horrifying and disturbing memories were tied to some of the most important lessons the more experienced climber''s memories had to offer. Out of those, there were two pieces of information that he couldn''t ignore now that he did know. The first was a piece of unfinished business Orison had become a part of and was on his way to discovering more about. The second was the current identity of the man who had some way of tricking Osomo into regurgitating him back out every time he died permanently.


    Shaking off the disorientation, the young mage sent a message to Gan and Duran letting them know that he was awake and the master bath was free to use. Moments after leaving the room, someone shut and locked the door. Orison shrugged and finished walking to the kitchen.


    As Orison entered, the first thing he noticed was the tornado aftermath on the counter closest to the pantry, the second was the colorful and overly vivid advice Gravat was giving to Duran. "Just remember, a wh*re will put a finger in your a** anytime you want but don''t ask a girlfriend to do it until after the third time you''ve f***ed. You need to warm refined ladies up to that kind of sh*t."


    Seeing that Duran wasn''t only not embarrassed but seeming to enjoy the vulgar conversation, Orison decided he wasn''t that interested in First Family cuisine and decided to eat some trail rations in the main room.


    Before he''d managed to slip out of view, the blue man bellowed, "Hey pixie t*ts, you never told me you left any b******ds behind. I think I saw one of your candy a** grand-kids turning tail to hide from me."


    With a sudden shot of adrenaline strong enough to make his vision buzz, Orison turned around with a saintly smile plastered onto his face and said, "Well, it sounds like we were both wrong about something. I thought I saw an over-sized frog sh*tting in the kitchen and lost my appetite."


    Caught between amusement and anger, the blue man apparently decided on both as he laughed while throwing himself at Orison with full strength. The young mage''s equipment was enough not to be too worried about taking an unarmed strike but the explosion of strength surging through Gravat''s muscles would be enough to break his neck if hit in the face. In the second it would take for the blue man to reach him, Orison was presented two options. He could reactivate the questioning request which would trap Gravat in the transporter circle til the man died of thirst or he could pull out the best dirty trick Ruby taught him and hope that it was enough.


    Unleashing some stored essence, Orison turned slightly blurry as he went from a low defensive crouch to backwards half-roll before spearing a heel into the blue man''s crotch. The upwards force was enough to turn Gravat''s forward rush into an air born somersault that landed the man on his back before he curled like a shrimp. Pushing through the pain of having a testicle ruptured, the man got back on his feet and glared death at Orison.


    Gravat hissed, "I''ll twist your head off for that, trap monkey."


    With emotionless indifference, Orison replied, "If you try to attack me again, you''ll die in a transporter security field. Once you''re in, I couldn''t even change my mind if I wanted to... By the way, I''m a duel mage type, not an adventurer."


    Pelenel, who was ready to stop the blue man if Gravat had tried to attack again, switched to healing once he registered the look of frustrated defeat on the blue man''s face. Duran, for his part, was already half in front of Orison as well.


    While the elven man''s high range heal took hold, erasing pain and putting things back into place, Gravat said, "You know I''d wipe the walls with you any other day. What''s your highest degree?"


    Orison snorted. "I wouldn''t fight you any other day. Your temporary weakness is the only thing that saved your life... To answer your question, I''m a first degree summoner and artificer."


    Gravat said, "Horsesh*t."


    The young mage shrugged while he rummaged through the pantry for anything that might interest him.


    Pelenel added helpfully, "He''s a climber like me. You can''t measure him by Osomo standards. It''s quite possible he disdains the trainers as I do and only saw use in the trainings he chose."


    In a half surly attempt to reconcile, Gravat said, "You''ve already broken my other money maker for the day. Give me a magic show. I''d like to see what a climber can do with a little beginner fluff."


    With nothing else better to do while he waited for Gan to finish his personal business, Orison summoned out Titania and Oberon then had them put on a show. With the added knowledge he had gotten from the First Family''s library, Orison had been actively having to resist his summoning models breaking and turning into weakened abilities. It wouldn''t be much longer before he''d have to either let it happen or intentionally muddy his understanding.


    Picking up on their readiness to transform, Pelenel asked, "Why do you resist their assimilation?"


    Orison sighed. "Almost all of my main staple already have. If I let them go too, all I''ll be left with are a large handful of weak tricks."


    The elven man shook his head. "They are spirit based. As it is, your progress has far outstripped your comprehension. The minor amount of your blood''s potency that you use for physical augment isn''t enough. Until you have an adequate grasp of glamour and intent, you need an outlet to help alleviate the pressure... I won''t make any guarantees but they should raise in usefulness, if not power, almost immediately."


    Weighing the pros and cons, Orison decided to take his clansman''s advice. With the deed done, it would take a day or two to see the results. For the time being, Orison lamented internally that he''d been downgraded to a second rate fighter. The plus side was that all the summoner magical know-how and theory finally had a core to latch onto. The time, effort and resources he had spent learning and improving his earth golem and Enbarr would have value again.


    Once Theo rounded the corner, the young mage stopped goofing around and drew the Pythagorean formula on the table along with a brief explanation of the ''on, run code, off'' style manual overrides he and Duran had ran into multiple times. Since Theo and their rescues would likely want to take a look around themselves, they now had a chance to pick up some of the things Orison and Duran didn''t due to self given time restraint. The lure of easier and safer treasure also allowed them to shake off Theo, who was working himself up into trying to convince Orison in letting him stay on their team awhile longer.


    As the rabbit man made nearly tearful parting conversation with Gan and Duran as if they''d been traveling companions for years, Pelenel had his own few words to share with Orison. "We''ll be staying here until our restrictions are removed in a few more hours. If you haven''t moved on in a couple of months, I have more to share and I''ll be free of past commitments."


    Orison nodded. "I''ll keep that in mind."


    While Pelenel hit Orison''s group with a round of rejuvenation and some kind of long term healing factor stimulation buff, Gravat gave Duran a parting piece of vulgar advice and a promise to return the favor of pulling him back from the dead.


    Making their way out of the cavern and tunnels, Duran said, "Don''t hate him. He''s good where it matters."


    Orison considered having a talk about how they didn''t always have to like each other''s friends but didn''t feel up to it. Nodding at Duran, Orison turned inward to focus on processing the climber''s memories. Gan''s own mood was somewhat subdued as well, leaving a comfortable silence until they reached the surface.


    After taking a breath of fresh air once they''d reached sunlight, Orison noted that there were even less people. After sharing a quick word with a guard near an emergency transporter someone had broken out from storage, he found out that some of the security team had decided to abandon post when they had spotted some kind of large flying creature.


    Seeing that an opportunity had presented itself away from the eyes of powerful strangers that already knew more about his business than he was comfortable with, Orison decided to send a party invite to the oblivious climber''s current incarnation. Once again, as if it was a reoccurring theme he couldn''t shake, the young mage''s message didn''t make it through. He may not have the man''s spiritual mark like he had used with Ivan but with that experience, Orison was able to replicate it using memories of the man''s spiritual signature within the acquired memories.


    Moments later, a soul faded human guardian Chosen appeared. The man had been worked over good a couple of times but other than significant bruising and signs of mild deprivation, the man was relatively in tact. Surprised by the sudden appearance, the guard by the emergency transporter was about to start asking questions when Orison pulled out some gold and fobbed it off as a companion that had been captured by semi intelligent creatures. Taking the bribe, the guard asked them to take the man elsewhere for recovery which Orison was all too happy in obliging.


    Once they were close to the exit of the gully, Orison had Duran lay the man down and administer some healing after having the soul faded guardian take some of the medicines that they had recently acquired from the underground facility. Seeing that the guy was in a complex mood, probably not made any easier to digest by the identity of his rescuers, Orison let the man have some space to message a few contacts. The scrapped Fortune princess and bard he tagged along with were fine. They had made it out and away from the chaos of the royal court.


    Once the man was recovered enough, he said, "Whatever part you had in this tragedy, is there anything you can do for Elise?"


    Orison replied, "That''s your Fortune princess girl that was with us in the Temple of Greed, right? In an indirect way, I already am. You''ll understand soon enough."


    The man sighed where he sat on a rock, burying his face in his hands. "You must think me a fool for running back again and again for more abuse. She''s a lot more than she appears. I-"


    Orison interrupted, "Was left behind while she ran off with the bard? Look, who you give your unrequited feelings to isn''t that important to me. What is important is that YOU are more than you appear, even to yourself. But I have to say, you definitely have a ''type''. And as far as I can tell, it''s not a good one to have."


    The young mage chuckled as he handed the miniature trainer to the man. He explained to only activate the smallest of the three loaded segments. Looking a little wary, the man complied. Once dumbfounded confusion cleared to a more thoughtful variety, Orison convened with his party to cobble together the best equipment for the man as they could.


    The young mage took back the trainer and handed the somewhat mismatched set to the man and said, " If you don''t mind, I believe fetching you from prison, restoring a part of your memories and leading you to your conduit instead of claiming it for ourselves gives us enough credit to call you Danny instead of Daniel."


    While Duran nodded in approval, Gan shot Orison a look that all but shouted ''Is that what we''re doing?''


    Danny smiled weakly, "I suppose it does but you''ll have to excuse me for not really seeing myself as Daniel at the moment. This is all too surreal."


    Orison flashed a mild look of sympathy at the man before he said, "There isn''t much I can do about that but you''ll have plenty of time to digest your new reality while we move. As it is, reaching Clay Barrows before we get too worn out is going to be a chore."


    Danny mentally adjusted himself and nodded agreement. "I''ve always thought better on my feet anyway."


    As they headed out, Orison handed the older guardian water and rations to consume along the way. After polishing off three portions of food and draining two canteens, Danny seemed to be quite a bit better off and finding mental equilibrium admirably. Being a man close to retirement as a Chosen and only having not breached the mid range of power due to the hazards of royal baby setting, he was quite knowledgeable.


    Not even halfway through the first day, Gan was showing noticeable improvements on his ability to read dense jungle terrain and make the most out of his keen vision advantage. Duran was starting to show signs of getting the gist of second degree guardian training without having touched a trainer device and Orison was coordinating party formations with actions much more smoothly. To top it all off, Danny wasn''t insistent or pushy in any way.


    If there was anything to complain about, it was the nearly suicidal tendency the man had of jumping into the most dangerous spot to be. Of the mostly minor threats that the primates and giant snakes represented, there were two times the man got hurt taking a flung rock or fang puncture that could have been avoided altogether. Orison didn''t really blame that on the man though. Danny was just too used to dragging dead weight.


    While they took a midday breather, Orison had an aside with Danny. "I appreciate the enthusiasm. You''ve definitely got a bright future as an instructor if taking up the climb again isn''t in you. But man, if you get yourself killed before we reach your conduit, I don''t know if I have it in ME to go looking for you to go through this a second time. We might not even be able to."


    Danny frowned, ordering his thoughts, then said, " None of you should be here. This area''s too much for your current skill. I understand that your equipment''s good and your team has better ability spread than most but if anything happens to your equipment or there''s even the smallest of accidents, this trip is going to turn into a survival game. Those hits that Duran''s letting his armor take now for clean kills could get HIM killed when we''re further into the Deep Green. The borders between zones wave and we could pass into a top mid range area from a bottom one without realizing it."


    Orison took a deep breath and let out some of his frustration on the exhale. "It speaks volumes that you recognize the inherent problems of our group and are willing to forgo something vital to you in order to keep us from endangering ourselves. The biggest problem that we''re facing is that we''re climbers, not trainer dependent Chosen. We HAVE to push our limits to raise them. That''s especially true for Duran.


    "You don''t have to feel responsible for us. We are making this choice willingly and aware. I''m glad that you pointed out the equipment issue again, though. Intentionally taking hits is a bad habit to start. That should be a desperation call, not a go-to plan."


    To give Danny and himself a little piece of mind, Orison informed his group that they were going to start treating every encounter as a threatening one, no matter how tame it looked. It would slow them down but Danny had hit the peg on one thing. They didn''t have the luxury of treating this place casually. It could and quite possibly would get someone killed.

 90 Crystal Cage 28

    As the light of the sun deepened from an orange to a bloody red, the atmosphere of the jungle around them changed in subtle ways. An eeriness seeped into the shadows. Growing silence gave fuel to the imagination on what the source of rustling within dense foliage might be. Nerves that drew ever tighter during the stress of the day threatened to fray and snap under the pressure of creeping paranoia.


    Increasing the intensity of his spirit sight, Orison discovered that unlike the cavern, there was so much life present everywhere that even the outline of rock and ground possessed a faint outline. For Duran and Danny''s sake, Orison produced a light but stuck it to the inside of a bowl and kept it pointed at the ground only a few feet ahead. Due to limits of sight, more than once, they had taken one kind of detour or another to keep from running directly into a large group of creatures who had gathered together for safety.


    Once night had fully settled in, it seemed as if some danger had passed. With a significant decrease in active creatures, the dangers had lessened by quite a bit but the old instinctual fears within the animal side of the mind presented new obstacles to overcome. Because of their unique visual abilities, Orison and Gan weren''t quite as affected but despite having handled the cavern with no real difficulty, Duran wasn''t taking to the darkness in the jungle with nearly the same amount of emotional fortitude.


    Eventually, the young guardian shared his concern with the rest in hushed tones. "Wick thinks that something is following us."


    An equally subdued Gan chipped in, "There''s been a time or two that I thought I saw a red dot behind us but it came and went so quick that I thought is was my imagination playing tricks on me."


    Orison asked Danny, "Do you know of a creature that can hide its spirit and life signatures from detection?"


    The veteran guardian said, "We need to find something to put our backs to immediately. Don''t change how fast we''ve been moving, just start looking for something tall and wide enough to keep us from easily getting circled. It would be best if it''s not something we have to worry about something falling on to us from but any wall''s better than nothing right now."


    Once they had found an outcrop of stone with a depression not quite deep enough to be considered a cave, Orison swept it once.


    While Gan took a moment to clear out a couple of potentially dangerous critters, Danny answered Orison''s question. "I know of one possibility that would be natural to find around here and two more that it could be. Most likely, it''s a shade panther. I really hope it''s a shade panther. If it is, once it realizes we''re vigilant against it, it''ll move on to easier prey. The other two would be... bad news.


    "Outside of beginner areas there''s a special term for a collection of zones called territories. You won''t hear it get mentioned much because it''s only talked about when a party encounters a ''roaming terror'' and one survives, not often at all. Each roaming terror has a certain area of zones it marks as territory. No one has verified information on the roaming terror for this part of the jungle and I researched it as a possibility for- That doesn''t matter.


    "What does, is that roaming terrors tend to have two or three of the most iconic abilities in its area as part of its repertoire... If something we can''t see starts hitting us with a dark mist or dark rainbow-like mist, then unless you have a hearthstone or some other way of making it to a transporter, there''s next to no hope outside of sheer dumb luck. If it''s that one, I''ll try to lure it away and you try to make as much space between us as you can."


    Orison nodded and handed Danny a hearthstone. "What about the third?"


    Danny said, "We''re not talking about it until we have to or it''s morning."


    Time ticked by slowly. Once Orison was nearly certain it had been an hour, he checked to find that it had only been around twenty minutes. Duran was still relaying Wick''s unease.


    The amount of delays that he was encountering had Orison starting to feel anxious about reaching their destination before whatever his intuition was warning him about. Unwilling to let their journey''s additional pause be a complete waste, he coordinated with his sub-mind to contemplate the Enbarr portion of his summoner concepts. About an hour later, he felt the right thing click into place and had a sense that he could call forth something usable.


    Feeling mentally fatigued, Orison looked around at his companions to see that their nerves were frayed horribly. "Whatever is out there, it''s keeping us pinned here. I have a solution, I think."


    The young mage focused on his spiritual reserves and attempted to call out Enbarr. A horse shaped outline of slightly green tinted blue wavered into existence before popping like a soap bubble. Frustrated, he tried again. As it wavered, fragile and ghostly, a vague and shadowy outline pounced on it. Instead of a bursting bubble splash of magic enhanced spirit essence, it drew into an invisible spot and disappeared as if it was smoke that had been sucked into a vent.


    Orison saw that Danny had grown pale with a faint trace of shaking the young mage''s sub-mind could barely perceive. "It''s option three, isn''t it?"


    Danny said, "Sort of. This is just one of its hounds. We''ve been mark as potential prey but haven''t been actively selected yet. I don''t know if trying to stay or run is the better option... If you have enough hearthstones for everyone, we should try to leave."


    Orison nodded and built a transport model in his space before casting it out. As soon as it took form, the invisible ''hound'' siphoned it''s energy causing the model to collapse.


    Gan asked grimly, "What''s it take to bring it down?"


    Danny replied, "A hound? Probably around six upper mid range could do it without losing anyone."


    Orison said, "Well, it isn''t attacking. We could try making a straight line for the nearest territory edge."


    Danny said somewhat fatalistically, "It hasn''t attacked because we''re staying put. Eventually, after it shook us up, it would have backed us into a position like the one we chose to put ourselves in. We''re the prey it''s marked for its master. If we try to run now, it WILL attack."


    Orison wiped a bit of cold sweat and said, "Let me see if I have this right. It''s not something we can fight and it won''t let us run. It sounds like the only hope we have is that its master has found more entertaining prey."


    Sitting on the ground as if someone had just cut the tension lines that kept him upright, Danny huffed out agreement with Orison''s assessment.


    Unwilling to sit and wait to be hunted, Orison dispelled the feeling of hopelessness with wrathful anger. "Like f*** I''ll accept that!"


    Muttering to himself, Orison said as he built another Enbarr model, "You want to treat my escape attempts like sc**by snacks!? Chew on this f***er."


    At the very last moment, as soon as Orison felt the invisible creature latch on to his summon model to siphon it, Orison half ripped off the regulation enchantments on one of the illegal, unfinished concentrated crystal sparks and shoved it into the model.


    Throwing himself flat on the ground, Orison screamed, "Brace for impact!"


    Gan, who had trained with Orison in another time and place, responded in a similar manner but Duran and Danny had both trained as guardians who used the phrase in an entirely different manner. Crouching behind their shields, they both activated their force fields. Two seconds in, an explosion slammed into their abilities with enough momentum that it lifted them off the ground and embedded them into the rock face behind them. Def and temporarily blind, the two guardians slid to the ground with small traces of blood seeping from their ears and noses.


    For the first time, Orison had to shunt away spiritual essence filtering into his space from a kill because his formation couldn''t handle it all. The young mage dully registered that fact, along with a trickle of loot and a world message pop-up as he administered medicine to the two injured companions. Upon reading the message, Orison cursed a storm as he handed their care to Gan temporarily.


    Furiously cobbling Enbarr again for all he was worth, Orison absorbed the meaning within the world message, "All range raid event ''Wild Hunt'' has initiated in the ''Deep Green''. Participate for rare drops or finish in the top ten for unique gifts. Herne the Hunter''s current marked prey, the White River Rangers party. Nearest active transporter, the ''Stone Ape Wine Cave'' instance entrance."


    Barely able to hold one Enbarr and running low on free essence as it was, Orison picked up Duran as Gan used his conduit to make a horse before snatching up Danny. Holding a delicate balance between speed and caution the two maneuvered their mounts with as much finesse as they could muster. With little better direction in choice to run, they pointed themselves towards the distant Clay Barrows.


    Four snail trickling minutes later, they heard the distant braying of hounds. A little later and Orison received to party invite requests. He was tempted to dismiss them outright but the messages gave him pause.


    The message from an eighty-seven year old ''rift knight'' requested to join for participation tokens his son could apparently inherit. The man was close to death and wanted to go out swinging against an incredible foe. As selfish as it made him feel, Orison was more than happy to put a suicidal stranger between his group and their pursuer.


    As he accepted, Orison yanked on the beacon to have the old man appear where he was rather than at the relatively close transporter. Upon sensing the transporter''s location, Orison was tempted to make a run for that when a partially recovered Danny informed him that all the transporters in the area would only allow for entrance, not exit. Unfortunately, Orison''s security breach trick would only allow him to draw people to himself, not allow him to go elsewhere.


    In a curtain of light, an old man in evil looking black full-plate looked around in disorientation before locking onto the group that had slowed down just long enough for Orison to confirm that this was what the old man really wanted. The old man''s answer was a salute before lowering his visor. With a gesture to Gan, Orison spurred Enbarr back into a gallop. The last sight of the old man was a skeletal horse and two skeleton pike-men raising out of the ground under and to either side of him. In the second message, a twenty-seven year old dragon lancer woman said that her party was on the verge of wiping and wanted to hold an invite as a way to escape a meaningless respawn. At the very least, she thought she could earn some tokens before dying. She also admitted to some curiosity of wanting to see Herne and confirm for herself if one of the fanciful rumors about the enigmatic roaming calamity were true.


    Mentally shrugging, Orison accepted. Almost instantly, in a bending of space, the woman appeared. With a wink directed at Orison''s party, the woman exchanged her armor and halberd for an extravagant gown and a silk handkerchief.


    Unable to help himself, Orison slowed down long enough to ask, "What exactly are you planning on doing like that?"


    The woman said, "My great aunt told me that Herne will stop to accept a maiden''s favor. Either he will and give you a lot more time to run than a single attack will slow him down or I''ll take damage leader with the mother of all uses of the ''reprisal'' skill. Win either way."


    Mind buzzing with even more confusion than before having his question answered, the young mage spurred back into a full run once more.


    Gan said, "It makes you wonder how much of this world we truly understand."


    Danny, who had managed to upgrade from sack of potatoes to legitimate passenger, added, "There are numerous stories of unexpected interactions with the more intelligent species of creatures. Random acts of kindness, overtures of friendship and even romantic interest have been documented. Some beast-kin tribes even-"


    The tension relieving conversation came to a sudden, heart dropping end when the booming laughter of a baritone man preceded a loud crashing of debris and snapping trees. Less than a second later, the party was informed of the rift knight''s death. The absurdness that the dragon lancer woman had managed to instill into the situation had been wiped clean as grim determination returned.


    As the braying of invisible hounds inched closer and closer, there was a pause of silence that lasted for nearly a minute before the woman voluntarily left their party. That silence lasted for a half-minute more before the hounds began braying again. The distractions of time that the woman and old man had bought Orison''s group weren''t in vain but it wasn''t enough either.


    According to Danny''s studies, a roaming calamity rarely left the zone in which it spawned. The major problem that they faced at the moment was the sheer size of the zone that they were in. No matter how Orison did the math, only two people on Gan''s conduit in mount form had a possibility of making it to the border. His new grasp of Enbarr wasn''t enough and was actually causing Gan to slow down in order to pace him.


    Doing some hard pros and cons listing, the young mage made the best call he could. Having Danny reach his conduit meant not only having a fourth step climber''s support, it also meant unraveling some of the mystery behind the old genius artificer and his daughter. Out of them all, Gan would suffer the most if he had to respawn. It could possibly spell the end of Gan''s ability to climb at all.


    Orison reasoned that if royals had a bit of saving grace the first time they died then adopted First Family couldn''t be worse and might even be better. Depending on how it all played out, Duran might even improve some in a brush with death as long as he didn''t actually die. And ultimately, it was Orison''s call to come here knowing that the area was a huge risk. Now that it had turned out to be one they couldn''t handle, he should take some responsibility for it.


    Over the nearing sound of invisible dogs, Orison said, "Listen up, and I want no argument. Everything I''m about to say has been reasoned to the best of my ability and I won''t be touched or moved by anyone ignoring it. I''ll be p*ssed... Gan, I''m dropping you and Danny from the party. You''re responsible for getting him to his conduit. If sh*t gets dicey, use the hearthstone you have to leave whatever mess you''re in and wait for me at Clay Barrows. If you don''t want all of this to be meaningless, Danny, you''ll try your damnedest to reach your conduit."


    Protest broke out as soon as Orison stopped to take a breath. With little time left, Orison yelled, "Shut the f*** up!... I''ve got a First Family spark and so does Duran. You''re leaving. That''s final. Don''t listen to me and see how I handle it!"


    With that said, Orison booted Gan and Danny from the party list. With one last hurt look behind him, Gan sped up with a frowning Danny clinging on to the scout.


    Orison looked a little over his shoulder. "Duran, you keep on this horse until it fades and then you keep running until the hounds catch up to you. Until the very last second you still live, don''t give up and believe you can survive. And whatever you do, don''t circle back to me unless this thing is somehow miraculously over. If you can safely manage, get to Clay Barrows, if not, go to Emris."


    Duran said, "We both have First Family sparks, I''ll go wi-"


    Orison interrupted. "Go and spoil my plan, accomplishing nothing? Just do as I say this time Duran. I have my reasons."


    As he had Enbarr lower its head, Orison swung a foot over before rolling to the side, urging the summoned horse to sprint on. Unpracticed in the maneuver, it wasn''t a graceful landing but the young mage managed to find his feet with little more than a few bruises and scrapes. Orison couldn''t see the hounds but the pounding rushing past him felt like a stampede of yearling calves.


    One of the invisible dogs passing nearby, snapped at him. The hand that Orison threw up in instinct was missing two fingers and bleeding profusely. The young mage hit it with a heal and did a hard check to keep from cussing.


    Channeling his anger in a different direction Orison yelled, "Is this how it''s to be then, false lord, hide in the shadows like a base born highway man as your mindless beasts pillage for you?"


    Two of the invisible hounds that had crouched to pounce on Orison, frenzied by the smell of his blood, whined a weak protest as they obeyed a deep baritone command to heel. A ten foot tall giant of a man in padded scale mail looked down at Orison from a monstrous nightmare steed as he came into view.


    "The irrelevant and powerless always rave the maddest and loudest at the end of the hunt. Think you to be granted any special privilege? Will next you beg for life? By what authority do you impugn me?"


    Orison adopted as much haughty arrogance as he could. "Why, I''m a proud son of the heavens, slave. Where you were cast low to serve, I was raised high and granted a seat at their table. Will you now strike me down for being of nobler line? Shall you prove yourself no better than the beasts that serve you by silencing your rightful superior?"

 91 Crystal Cage 29

    While the giant drew himself into righteous fury, Orison prepared the best suicide strike he was currently able. Since it would all be taken away from him soon, there was no reason to hold the illegal sparks in reserve.


    In a sundering voice that would have burst the young mage''s eardrums if not for the protective enchantments on his hooded robe, the antler helmeted man said, "Proud son of heaven!? You? There is only one law that determines such a thing and you are inferior to me in every way save in your lunacy."


    Orison shrugged, "How could anyone expect their inferiors to understand loftier sentiment. If you can survive the light brush of my weakest sprightly summoning then I''ll bow to your law and call you lord before I submit to rending."


    Herne''s narrowed in cruel mockery. "And there it is. A worm whining for the chance to earn his consolation prize, the so called participation award."


    Orison spit to the side in disgust. "Look me in the eyes, inferior, and see if I care for that trash or if I don''t mean to end you today."


    Herne did so with a scathing intensity.


    The giant huntsman tilted his head back and roared in mocking laughter. "Then let me be the elixir for your fevered mind. I relish what is to come after your delusions of grandeur crumble, madman."


    Struggling with barely perceived concepts, Orison pieced together a sprite with the grace and power of a drunken firefly, nearly imperceptible set against the cold moon radiance of the huntsman''s majesty. The only thing staying Herne''s hand from ending the farce before humiliating and murdering Orison was the deep malevolence pulsing out from the young mage''s eyes. More than the disbelief of sudden death, the huntsman wanted to see the breaking and debasement of the creature that had so thoroughly slandered his honor.


    When the sprite was mere inches away from Herne''s face, Orison said, "Do you know why nature makes the most dangerous of things beautiful, fragile or both?"


    Herne frowned and said "Sto-"


    As soon as the giant opened his mouth, Orison had the sprite dart in with all it had, using his space''s connection with his summon models to load it with the remaining condensed illegal sparks after he had destabilized them.


    Orison hit the ground and covered his head as he thought, "I hope it''s because nature is innately balanced."


    His world was swallowed in white.


    ***


    Dazed and disoriented, the young man looked around at odd structures he didn''t recognize, at a ghostly boy whom he felt an affinity with but didn''t truly understand why. Like a colossal jigsaw puzzle with countless pieces, all that made the young man slowly started clicking into place far too slowly to be satisfying.


    The boy said, "Quite a high risk gamble. Only time will tell if the potential gains will outweigh the losses... and we have lost a lot... A third of our soul is a minor thing really. That might be a blessing in disguise because it allowed us the opportunity to remove some fairly insidious remnants of things we want no dealings with and trim the fat a little.


    "We kept the majority of our acquired concepts... That mustard seed bracelet clung to us with a ferocious intensity. It even kept a cupful of that five colored soil and a few blades of spirit grass from getting taken... Maybe it was due to the spark being there but our formation was left alone. All else is gone.


    "I''m pulling for all we''re worth but what we gain from the death of Herne is something the controlling personality will have to investigate after we''re awake again... Oh, good news. The spirit essence we''re siphoning from Herne is almost completely compatible. It''s not on the same level of useful as the miasma but doesn''t carry nearly any hidden dangers like that stuff did. It''s a lot easier to digest and claim too.


    "The power of existence we lost is probably the most harmful but we didn''t really have much accumulation of that to begin with. We don''t have those book or circlet granted blessings anymore but considering what wasn''t absorbed into our concepts was pretty redundant or currently useless anyway, that''s probably for the best. They took up some of the room in our potential growth."


    The young man passively took in what the ghost boy was saying as he processed his identity and realized what had happened to him. "I died. Wow, that sucks. No deus ex machina for me, huh?"


    The ghostly child said, "Not this time, at any rate. Not unless you want to count the well known properties and consequences of Osomo''s respawn mechanic."


    Orison said, "I''m a bit confused about that. Why was I so messed up and in here talking with you instead of reappearing at the nearest major transporter platform?"


    See-through boy Orison replied, "Part us, part Osomo''s merciless confiscation procedure. Making sure that we didn''t lose anything we really want to keep and getting rid of harmful parts meant a little deconstruction/reconstruction. Of all the things that we lost, it was the most inherently good thing that did happen. Without that insanely powerful device pulling us loose and fluffy for a bit, we''d never have been able to excise those alien remnants.


    "Alright. As soon as you''re awake, release the beacon model in your space... and pay for a transport back into the jungle hub. We need to contact and get an invite from Gan as soon as possible or he might do something dumb. That will coincidentally also help you get away from the Sek authority that''s taking your down time as an opportunity to put you into a lock-down."


    Orison nodded absentmindedly.


    "Raise our vigilance! We might have a lot of time in here before it happens but out there it''ll be less than three seconds," the ghost boy warned.


    ***


    Orison came to with a gasp that startled the man trying to put an enchantment etched manacle on the young mage. With the speed of thought, he released the beacon model and used the transporter before the curtain of light had even cleared. Appearing in the little border town they had been at two days and what seemed like a lifetime ago, Orison sent a message to the scout, requesting a party invite.


    In an uncomfortable amount of delay, Orsion was about to pay for another transport to escape the full contingent of eight Sek uniformed men when Gan''s acceptance came in. Three transporter movements in a row made the recovering mage suffer a bout of nausea inducing vertigo as he cast a sub-mind assisted exercise of concepts to produce his elven horse.


    Letting the horse''s environment response compensation keep them from crashing into a ditch, Orison used spirit sight to act as an early warning to avoid the creatures awakening in the predawn hours. By the time his Sek pursuers had oriented themselves, the young mage was no longer in sight. And by the time they were on his trail, creatures that had been stirred by his passing became extra obstacles for them to deal with, allowing the young mage to pull too far ahead for them to reasonably follow any longer.


    Realizing that his equipment might look fine in appearance but was actually barely better than tatters, Orison switched out for the set of leathers that his sub-mind had managed to pull from Herne''s drop inventory. There were quite a bit of odd things in that mass drop but one that caught his attention was a figurine of the horse that Herne rode. Once it was identified as some kind of mount summoning artifact, he fed it to his space. Within a few minutes, Enbarr felt a bit more stable and agile but that was about all he''d get for the moment.


    As Gan and Danny came into view, Orison noticed that Duran wasn''t with them. Checking his party listing, the boy''s name was grayed out but the log of activities didn''t show that Duran had died, much less respawned. Worried, Orison picked up the pace to catch up as they slowed down to let him. Pulling up beside them, Orison was about to ask about Duran when Gan all but yanked him off his horse into a bear hug.


    In a wavering voice, Gan said, "Don''t do that to me."


    From there, Gan''s words were more garbled nonsense than coherent speech. The gist of the scout''s dissatisfaction over being chosen to survive when his friends stayed to essentially sacrifice themselves wasn''t hard to pick up on. What was made a little clearer as the scout''s emotional outburst simmered down a bit was how the situation had opened up some old wounds.


    The leader of Gan''s first band and that leader''s shield maiden best friend were the ones that had taken the scout under their wings and had granted him the nickname that Orison used. Like the young mage, they had also given him a mission that took him out of harm''s way while they stayed to die. Gan had been lost for some time after that and was still on the road to recovery when Orison had met him.


    Relaxing his stiff disposition some, Orison gave the scout a few returned back pats and said, "It really wasn''t like that, buddy. Don''t make me out to be some kind of saint. I might start getting a big head about it!"


    Gan put the young mage in a head-lock and gave him a good knuckle rap to the skull before pushing them apart so they wouldn''t both fall off their mounts as soon as he let go. "I don''t even have words for how bad that felt. I get why you did it but..."


    Danny nearly falling off Gan''s horse shaped conduit broke the overly emotional moment for Gan long enough for Orison to ask, "What happened to Duran?"


    Dany said, "There was a second, narrow beam of light not too long after the bright flash. I can''t be sure but I think he might have transcended the limit."


    Orison looked confused, "He climbed? How does that... No, I get it now."


    The young mage had long associated Duran''s key to a black hole. With how much it had been taking in, the life and death stimulus had let the boy take one large step all at once. A violent discharge of potential might not be the safest way to climb but it was incredibly suited to escaping situations like the one they were in. The drawbacks of such a method were just as apparent. Wherever Duran would be traveling next, the boy would be going at it by himself.


    "Except that he won''t," Orison thought. "He''s got Wick and possibly who or whatever that spirit body was."


    Taking a moment to do a well wish sending off for the youngest member of their crew, they continued on to their planned destination. For nostalgia or maybe just for emotional reassurance, Gan climbed on with Orison, letting Danny take the reigns of the conduit. If there was a little shakiness or a little too much strength in the scout''s grip, Orison saw no need to comment on it. After all, his friend didn''t have a touch of soul fading to numb the emotion and mental stress of their previous night''s trials.


    After a round of joking and ''horseplay'' under the emerald tinted golden light of day to bring everyone back into balance, Danny interrupted to ask, "How bad is it? You''re pretty new so I doubt you have much to spare."


    Orison didn''t need to struggle to understand what Danny was referring to. "One third. I have the same ''three time''s a charm'' privilege as royals. I know it''s pretty hard to gauge if you lost something important because you wouldn''t know even if you did. I can say with a strong assurance that it was more blessing than bane, though. I had a few, um, bad parts in there I didn''t mind losing so much."


    Taking a quick once over, Orison noticed that Ivan''s spiritual mark was still on the ''rind'' of his soul. Orison didn''t have any difficulty accepting that. Whether for Ivan''s sake or the usefulness it represented, having a tether to an ally was a good trump card to keep. Through studying it, Orison might even find a way to revive the withered connections between his original three members once he understood enough of his own concepts for such a connection to not be harmful.


    The veteran guardian offered, "I don''t have much of my climber memory restored but I can tell you from experience on this world that expanding and enriching your life experiences will help you to recover more quickly. The average Chosen takes a couple of years to recover from their first respawn but I''ve seen one or two do it much faster."


    Seeing that Gan was working himself up again, Orison said, "Don''t stress it. Out of everything, it''s my least concern. A group of Sek nut sacks might even solve the problem for me outright if they don''t learn to leave me the f*** alone."


    Conversation became subdued and superficial as they entered Clay Barrows. There was a sense of oppressiveness to the sprawling riverside city that no other place that Orison''s group had been.


    While the young mage and scout were trying to figure out why that was, Danny whispered, "There are a few places Osomo leaves to its own devices. This is one of those places. Transporters don''t work and the ambient essence in the air remains thin here when there''s no real reason why it should be... We should probably leave as soon as we''ve gotten some rest. This isn''t a place Chosen tend to linger, for many reasons."


    Something tickled the back of Orison''s mind but with so much else occupying his attention, it didn''t seem important enough to follow up on. One of those things was the inhospitable mood of the city''s residents. Paying 100 gold for a dilapidated room that only boasted decent defensive capability, Orison noted the distinct lack of convenience magic devices that were so common elsewhere.


    Determined not to give in to a downward spiral of paranoia that wouldn''t serve anyone well, the group decided to take a small risk and just sleep. It was the middle of the day and Orison would be good to go in a couple of hours before night fall anyway. Without further comment or concern, all three of them crashed without so much as removing boots.


    Orison awoke to the sound of a muffled screech. The bit of dirty twilight filtering through the room''s only shoe box window did little to illuminate the situation. Fighting against the aches and grogginess of over resting, Orison cast a light to see a horrifying tableau. He, Gan and Danny had dark splotches with thin, starfish-like tentacles clinging to them. The screech that had awoken him was caused by Gan rolling over onto one.


    With the most aggressive use of ''degree shift'' he had ever cast, Orison dislodged the ones that were on himself before dispatching them with a couple of firefly sprites that could crisp the alien vermin with zaps of electricity. He quickly repeated the process for Gan and Danny as he decided not to wake them up. Disturbing as they were, the creatures weren''t overly dangerous aside from their ability to keep their targets asleep to feel longer.


    Had there been around three times as many there might have been a chance for anemia but Orison just chalked it up to this place''s scary version of bed bugs and let it go. Like many who had came to Clay Barrows before him, it wasn''t going to make his list of favorites. Unlike those who had came before, he swept his surroundings with spirit sight to see much larger versions of the things in their room, floating like ugly balloons in the darker recesses around the inn they were staying at.


    Close to the eight hour mark of their stay, a light set of footsteps stopped close to their door and made some clicking noises. The sole pest survivor that Orison had been studying, started struggling more frantically. Since he was done with it anyway, he let it go to see it scramble through a hole in a dark corner of the room.


    Orison said in a low voice on the other side of the door, "I let one live. I doubt I''ll be back this way again but if I am, keep them out of my room. I don''t give a damn otherwise."


    From the hallway, the tired voice of the middle aged innkeeper said, "You don''t plan on giving me grief about it?"


    Orison sighed, "Life is hard out here. Why should I care about a relatively harmless way for you to raise some personal security. I imagine the poor guests that get fleeced by you don''t even realize how much safer they are here than anywhere else in this city... had I figured it out sooner, I wouldn''t have done such a thorough job on working out my irritation."


    The innkeeper said, "That''s... fair. There''s some folks being a nuisance trying to find you. If you''ll leave without a fuss, I''ll pack up a meal for the three of you to take."


    The young mage chuckled in spite of himself. "If you hold the spit and poison you have a deal. We''ll be ready in five."


    Shaking his companions awake, Orison had them pull themselves together quietly. On the agreed time, they met the innkeeper downstairs and picked up their wrapped dinner, still warm from cooking. It smelled oddly tasty. Whatever he was expecting, the young mage didn''t anticipate that the surly man was a decent grill master.


    Forewarned and ready, it was relatively easy for the trio to skirt around the Sek group and stay away from the darkest shadows of the deserted streets. For a moment, Orison toyed with the idea of thinning their pursuers'' numbers but thought better of it. With a sigh of regret, Orison let the annoying pests live to draw breath another day as he and his companions slunk out into the night. As angry and hungry for spiritual compensation as he was, he didn''t want to add anymore variables until they had reached their goal.

 92 Crystal Cage 30

    Eventually, the draw of Danny''s conduit lead them off road and into an area called Mire Wood. And although Orison''s mount seemed to be able to stay on top of the mucky ground if he was alone on it, Gan''s conduit wasn''t quite as adept. The most frustrating aspect to the terrain was it''s shifting quality of not quite solid enough to walk nor watery enough to skiff. The poisonous critters and disease infested mud was troublesome but relatively incapable of posing any real threat to their group.


    The two creatures that roamed the area were very much capable of causing harm. In a bit of enlightened imparting, Orison discovered from Danny that the creatures the innkeeper trucked with were the pupal and larval stages of the largest populated threat in their current area, murk motes. These floating menaces were capable of releasing a toxic gas that might do a fair number of bad things to a person who breathed it in.


    Though small in number, the truly dangerous creatures were the mire mouths. People not keen on detail might mistake the mire mouths for murk motes but there was no mistaking what happened once the mire mouths attacked. These floating sacks of death would also release a dark mist with harmful effects but there was a magical quality to theirs that added a more dire result, death clock. Through Osomo''s overbearing manner of quantifying everything into measurable manifestations, death clock was a timed necromantic curse that served as an instant death when the timer ran out if not removed.


    There was no doubt in Orison''s mind that if a previous disciple of Danny''s wanted to put their teacher''s conduit somewhere it couldn''t be reached but where they themselves could, it would likely be in a part where the mire mouths dwelt. He only hoped that it would be a blind spot that a bit of memory or observation could determine and reach without having to face a creature capable of cursing someone to death. Such an ability disregarded power range almost entirely and dealt with what kind of equipment and party abilities one''s group possessed.


    Orison wrestled with himself before finally handing Danny the set of gear that looked like a smaller variant of what Herne himself had worn, complete with a less obtrusive antlered helmet. Being as the gear wasn''t appreciatively less in function and even had a touch more power of existence than what Orison and party had acquired in the tower, he was loath to give it up. Sadly, Danny''s pieced together equipment was just shy of garbage in comparison and far from what a person should have when traipsing around the upper side of mid range zones.


    Danny recognized the need and didn''t act demure about it. "I''ll remember this and all the other favors you''ve done for me, I swear it."


    Orison smiled wryly. "Considering we''re currently on a quest to recover your forgotten memories, I''d settle with a reasonable best effort."


    Danny flushed red in uncomfortable recognition of the irony in his promise as Gan tried not to add oil to the fire by laughing.


    Nearly an hour later, under dappled morning sunlight filtering through trees made somewhat sickly from rotting roots, Gan said, "It''s getting harder to find a safe way forward. If it isn''t bog pits, it groups of murk motes. We''ve even barely managed to miss one of those grinning monsters Danny almost crapped his breechclout over."


    Orison nodded in gloomy agreement. "Hindsight''s crystal clear. A druid would have made a big difference. What did you learn from the druid trainer anyway?"


    Gan muttered, "It''s practically worthless. ''Stone Fang'' forces a few hardened roots or sharp spikes of stone out of the ground that settle back in as soon as it''s done. Even Mo wonders why the two creatures in the druid training area can fly. I mean, how are you supposed to-"


    Orison wanted to scream in frustration but settled for cutting Gan off, "Perspective! Get down into the push-up position, the thing we did for training at the embassy. Alright, now think of yourself as still standing and cast your ability a bit farther-"


    Orison quickly yanked Gan up as the scout almost pierced his own head with sharp rock points. After they both took a couple of calming breaths, Orison tried again after explaining in a bit more detail how imagining a different positional perspective worked. They ended up wasting a quarter hour and had to relocate a couple times to avoid roaming creatures but eventually Gan not only understood his ability better, he could improvise natural traps with it.


    Armed with the ability to create short lasting stepping spots, Gan finally had more options moving forward but it became evident that his need to cast multiple uses of it in rapid succession was draining him quickly. At first, Orison could help him make up the difference with a little reserve sharing but as avenues narrowed and the way became more treacherous, even Orison was losing reserve faster than he could gain it back.


    After another breathless scrape with an unavoidable murk mote to side-step a ''grinning fiend'', Orison rethought their movement strategy. "There''s more water than ground at this point. I think it would be slightly more efficient to think in opposite operation. Let''s get your conduit into a gondola shape and we''ll use your ability to temporarily remove spots rather than make them... It''s a bit shaky but I might be able to make a mud golem that can help now too."


    Using the replica of Herne''s halberd as a gondola pole, amusing Danny in the process, Gan''s druid ability and Orison''s two foot mud puppet got them moving in relative safety yet again. As a added bonus, Herne''s halberd ended up being a good deterrent for the occasional murk mote that had become an annoying addition to their routine.


    Frantically fanning the air for the third time in the last ten minutes, Orison said in slightly panicked irritation, "Where is my mask when I need it the most? That''s right, Osomo took the damn thing! Wake up Danny. You just got gassed again... Do either of you have any idea how much further we have to go?"


    Veins standing out on his forehead, Gan said, "It feels close but stop with the ''Are we there yet?'' thing, please! Better yet, hit us with your healing light, I think I might be affected by a berserk or something."


    Orison chuckled in false humor. "Nope, I''m just starting to rub you the wrong way. Hell, I''m rubbing me the wrong way but I''m thoroughly sick of this place."


    Gan snorted. "I''m the one taking blasts of that foul stench to the face when I swat them down. Don''t mention sick, I think I''m starting to retch up pieces of my stomach."


    Attempting to improve the mood a little, the veteran guardian said, "If you need a break, I can take a turn on the pole."


    Gan sighed. "Thankfully, there''s no real need because you''d only have it for a minute or two at most before you were sleeping again. What a strange weakness for such great equipment to have... We''re about to switch back to clod hopping, I think. Little boss, what''s the word on it?"


    Orison frowned. "Damned if we do or don''t, really. If our magic reserves get much lower, we''re going to be mud skipping and peeling off murk mote babies soon."


    Pushing their magical and physical endurance to the limits of what wasn''t outright suicidal, the trio made it to the center of Mire Wood, a relatively dry and gently sloping mound of an island in the muck. As if fate itself took some pity on them, there seemed to be no visible enemy on Gan''s map. With relief so palpable that only Danny''s eyes showed no signs of watering, the small party picked off a couple mote pupa before cleaning themselves, eating and taking a desperately needed rest.


    Gan, the most overused and drained of the group, forced himself to eat a second serving of rations with a green face. "If I can keep this down, Creator, I promise to swear off drinking for a mo- a half-month."


    Looking around, Orison found a familiar mint variant and a ''sweet grass''. With a quick use of Osomo assisted alchemy and two uses of ''degree shift'', Orison presented his field tonic to Gan and Danny.


    Readying his own share, Orison gave a toast, "On behalf of The Creator, I''ll hold you to it, Gan. You don''t really need this, Danny, but a cool drink of herbal tea might help make you feel like a person again."


    As his companions sipped the tonic and took a moment to let stamina return to trembling muscles, the young mage looked out to a roaming group of murk motes that appeared to be lead by a mire mouth. From their hidden vantage point, they were safe for the time being but if they were to take a full rest, an army of murk mote pupa and larva would likely insure they''d wake up in a transporter platform. Not that Orison would have let them anyway.


    With evening making a swift approach, the intuitive feeling that had been goading Orison the whole way was building up steam. Lengthening shadows also meant increased activity and more erratic patterns for the creatures they were trying desperately to avoid. Unable to delay any longer, the trio wound their way through ever tightening gaps.


    Weaving through foliage like drunken dancers, their path of advancement turned into side winding. The frustration of being so close but not able to find a gap to the inner mound made Orison become so furious he was almost in tears. After everything that they had endured to get here, the situation looked bleaker by the moment. High emotions and fraying nerves eventually produced a mistake that couldn''t be recovered.


    Hearing the loud shotgun snap of a dried branch under his foot, Orison made an apologetic face at Gan as they quickly tried to weave through enough greenery that they would escape detection. It didn''t take long before even Orison was able to easily see in low output spirit sight that there was no more paths to take. They were being surrounded and it was by a group of mire mouths. They had run out of grace.


    As the first of the floating monstrosities came into view, the young mage had already built his transport model. Despite that, a dark mist with an oily rainbow sheen to it darted at them with supernatural speed. Through a last curse of anguish over wasted effort, Orison released the casting as he felt a wave of different effects try to latch on to all three of them.


    The radiant curtain of light that whisked them to safety was something that Orison typically found pleasant but at that moment it seemed like a mocking thing. That sour thought plagued him as he took in the unfamiliar room. It wasn''t uncommon for smaller villages to build a structure around the transporters as if they needed protection from the elements but the clean, antiseptic nature of this one was more reminiscent of First Family architecture revisioned by a less skillful hand.


    Danny, who had been looking more closely at the transporter, said, "How did this thing even work? Its power source is empty."


    Orison turned towards him and said dully, "My beacon model empowers itself from my magic..." Then what Danny had said fully filtered into his despondent mind. "That shouldn''t be possible! Osomo would replace a power source long before it could run dry."


    Rushing over to the back area of the transporter where Danny had originally appeared, Orison immediately noticed that this particular transporter had been refitted from mended parts. The cell that shown through a gap in the fitting was an inferior one that the young mage was all too familiar with.


    Gan, who had been silent at the side suddenly became animated. "We''re in the mound, Little Boss! Do you know what that means!?"


    Orison smiled widely. "It means we didn''t fail."


    Though he was happy at the outcome, the scout looked almost equally as aggrieved. "Well, sure but I meant that we didn''t have to go through that at all. We could have just, swoosh, been here!"


    Orison shook his head. "Maybe. We also could have ended up in an instance, unable to leave."


    Danny said, "I can''t be certain but I think we were pulled here."


    Looking at Danny then up in confusion, Gan said, "There''s another transporter up there, around two stories above us."


    Breaking into a cold sweat, Orison declared, "Since we''re going to start traveling around areas that have a lot of space between them and safe transporters, I''m going to have to shell out for hearthstones. Blind beacon jumps are too damn dangerous... Either way, we should get moving."


    Walking up to the double doors, Orison expected to be scanned but nothing happened as he enlisted Gan and Danny''s help to open them. What was revealed behind hind them made the young mage''s heart pound for a moment before he realized that nothing had power. Much like the scene from Construct Three, they walked into a room ready to unleash technological madness on any intruder that dared to enter but it was all stuck in place with vague signs of decomposition.


    With nothing of relative worth to take, they moved on into a large lobby. At least, that was their assumption of what the bowed and twisted room was. In far flung corners, there ware even signs of Osomo reclaiming and naturalizing the space. That was something Orison knew shouldn''t happen to structures made out of certain materials on the First Family''s construction list. It was as if potions of the material had began to transmute into something else.


    Aside from the room''s miserable state, there was something of interest in the room. A large portrait, preserved behind a pane of glass-like crystal on the wall, had four figures on it. A kindly looking old man rested a slightly gnarled hand on the shoulder of a radiant woman. A man that would be a dead ringer for Danny, had an arm draped over the old man''s shoulders as the two men seemed to be having a conversation behind a teenage boy fiddling with a portable trainer on the table.


    In sympathy for the strangeness Orison thought that Danny must have been feeling, the young mage indulged the veteran guardian a little time to take in the portrait before calling the group to move on. Within the next area, there were multiple rooms but reaching most of them would be a chore since the rooms and joining space were twisted with such severity that a few were above them and others had their access nearly pinched off.


    Taking a bit of time to scavenge, there wasn''t much of interest but there were a few unidentifiable gems and ores that Osomo had tried to convert some of the surrounding material into that in turn changed again, rejecting the world''s design. Though Gan had found some food and beverages that had been preserved in a far part of what must have been a kitchen at one time, it didn''t look safe. For lack of anything better, Danny''s discovery of some clothing and other fabrics that had been changed in interesting but relatively harmless ways was divided up into portions of what interested them.


    Unable to stop himself, Orison asked, "Is there any reluctance to be touring around with others, letting them loot what was once probably your own home?"


    Danny glanced around at the twisted wreckage and said, "If it had been my home, it was long ago... And without you two, who knows how long it would take for chance to bring me here."


    Trying to move down into the next area proved to be a difficult task since it had collapsed. It ended up taking some time and a fairly various use of Gan''s conduit before they had bypassed the stairwell turned corkscrew shaft.


    "I''ve been thinking about this for awhile but considering the nature of your conduit, it might be a good thing for you to go over some engineering blueprints, Gan," Orison said thoughtfully.


    Seeing Gan''s misery laden silence, the young mage didn''t press the issue. Getting the scout to pour over directories and bestiaries may not have been that difficult because even though Gan didn''t enjoy them, it did help him do the thing he did enjoy better. Any other kind of academic study wasn''t going to be as easy a sell.


    As they entered a part of the underground ''home'' that looked more like a cavern that had merged with a Salvador Dali painting, Orison blurted, "Gan, we leaned heavy on you this time. You''re the star of this show today, man. Don''t think I''m going to bust your balls on learning sh*t you don''t care about when we get back to civilization. Thanks for the 110% max effort, really."


    As his ears turned furnace glow red, Gan stared at a random wall and said, "Don''t sneak attack me with that sappy crap."


    With a serious expression, Danny said, "It''s a fair statement that we wouldn''t have made it hear without you, Ganga."


    After all the trials of the day, the sudden expressions of gratitude was a little too rich for the scout as he faced a wall fully and grunted that he had heard.


    While Danny looked at Orison in confusion, the young mage explained, "Gan comes from a place where a bruising hand print on your back is a seal of approval. They''re not much for verbal expressions of encouragement unless they''re wasted."


    Having been in a courtly environment for several years, the veteran guardian wasn''t quite comfortable with physical assault as a form of thanksgiving so he settled for a shoulder pat before walking further in. With a mischievous smirk, Orison swatted Gan''s backside and sidestepped an attempt by the scout to get him in a headlock before trotting to catch up with Danny. Halfhearted attempts at revenge by the scout stopped cold as they got their first view of the new ''room'' they just entered.


    While closing his own, Orison threw a hand in front of Gan''s eyes as he shouted in dire seriousness. "Don''t look!"

 93 Crystal Cage 31

    With his sub-mind kicking into a mode that was usually only reserved for Orison to inspect certain parts of his inner space, the young mage tried his best not to think about the swaths of impossible geometry he had just caught a glimpse of as he started navigating them around the dangerous parts.


    In a trembling voice, Danny asked, "What did I just see?"


    Orison barked, "Don''t think about it. Let it become nonsense in your head and push it out. Don''t think about pink elephants or giant breasts. Okay, now that you''re not thinking about giant breasts, continue to not think about them."


    Gan snickered and then said, "Good trick...You don''t have to tug on me. I''m the map guy, remember?"


    Flanked on either side by a guiding hand, Danny said, "I know I''m supposed to be a climber too but I don''t have anything about this in my memories. Can either of you enlighten me as to what''s going on here?"


    As Gan pretended to have hearing issues, Orison said, "Not to get too complicated about it, something''s warped space here. People don''t have minds capable of processing that. Trying to can cause brain damage. A little exposure isn''t that bad... You might have a bit of auditory or visual hallucinations for a few days. It won''t be anything major, just a little distracting.


    "If you got a heavy dose of it though, things can get dicey. End result, you become a complete basket case or you suffer fatal complications. Moral of the story is, don''t look at it. If you absolutely have to because you don''t have a choice, minimize direct view as much as possible."


    As they made their way deeper into the warped space, Orison added, "At least we have a decent clue as to why your reincarnation trick stopped working, Danny. There''s some kind of slow leak contamination of alien essence. My pet name for it is miasma. In a pure state, as long as it''s unclaimed, it''s pretty useful stuff but this miasma belongs to something. Well, it would probably be more accurate to say something laid claim to it by spitting on it and daring someone else to eat it anyway."


    It seemed that Danny wanted to say more but either couldn''t find the right words or thought better of it. That suited Orison just fine. Answering questions would waste time and the young mage felt like that was a commodity he was running shorter a supply of by the second, figuratively and literally.


    Reaching closer to their goal, the laws of physics nearly broke down entirely, leaving them more floating than walking as if they were in the vacuum of space. With an exercise of his weak telekinesis, Orison had them moving onward but another problem that wasn''t as easy to solve made itself felt. Although they were moving forward, they weren''t getting much closer. It was as if dimension stretched out creating a nearly limitless amount of distance to their destination.


    Orison said, "I don''t know what''s keeping you from interacting with your conduit properly but we are now much closer, figuratively speaking I guess. See if you can reach it now, Danny."


    The veteran guardian wrinkled his brows in concentration and said, "I think I understand. We''re actually really far away from it. I could only feel it when we got closer to this place because it the only place it can be felt. It''s like important rules are missing.... That part''s a little harder to explain.


    "Since there isn''t anything to keep us from doing so, we should be able to approach faster with every small push. I don''t get why we aren''t getting faster now. Is there something about the way you''re moving us that makes it not allow us to gain speed?"


    Orison considered for a moment and realized that was the case. He had been using his telekinesis to move them at its top speed rather than pushing them. Once he had that figured out, Orison put it all of his current ability strength behind them and pushed. Slowly at first, then gradually much faster, the young mage had no way of knowing how far they were traveling in a place where distance had little meaning.


    He could tell they were moving, however, because Gan could feel the more structured space they had come from, getting farther away. Orison could also feel that the bindings of time were getting looser. The alarm clock of his intuition was getting fainter rather than stronger. All three of them felt anxious over the sensation of sinking deeper into an endless void that drew them ever further away from a natural world they understood.


    A dawning horror registered in Orison''s mind that if it wasn''t for the faint field generated around them by Gan''s key, they might reach a point where they were no better than flies trapped in amber. They would eternally be moving/not moving towards their destination til the void that they were in inevitably collapsed, shunting them into a true void where they''d likely just cease to be. If it weren''t for the warning inherent in that knowledge to avoid getting separated from Gan at all costs, perhaps his sub-mind would have withheld the realization to preserve blissful ignorance over the dire situation they voluntarily were thrusting themselves into.


    Up til this point, Orison had held a subconscious superiority over his space concepts being internalized. It wasn''t until that moment he digested that despite all the benefits his inner space gave, there would always be situations and environments where others'' unique features would be able to outperform his own. Far from being jealous, Orison was inspired.


    The young mage turned to Gan and said, "Imagine that the place where we came from is just behind us and the place where we''re going is just in front of us. Don''t just imagine space crunching towards you, the sweat you''re popping shows me that kind of trick isn''t up your sleeve yet. Instead, imagine that the space isn''t there. If this was a normal room, our destination would only be a few feet away and the room we just left would be a few feet behind."


    At first, Gan couldn''t get it. He grunted and grew red faced like he had constipation as thick beads of sweat built up on his forehead, soaking into his clothes. Right as the scout gave up, prepared to tell them that he couldn''t do whatever it was that Orison thought he could, the image of a hallway effortlessly appeared around them. He had been overreaching, trying to impose his will rather than letting the weak field of law simply superimpose itself. With nothing to contest it, the boundless near nothing around them adhered to the structure his field represented.


    With structured reality asserting itself through Gan, there was a moment of breathlessness until a gush of pressure adjustment sucked air from the rooms behind them into the one they could finally enter. Orison''s sub-mind was taking in all kinds of minute details and even ruminating on some of the observable concepts of Gan''s field as they took in the huge, dark maw of a room in front of them. While empowering a larger casting of illumination magic, the young mage even came to the realization that the hint of pine and sweet air wasn''t some subtle cologne or scent mask Gan wore, it was an effect of the scout''s field regulating immediate environment in small ways.


    Once Orison had released the magic light, all side thoughts ceased instantly. Trying to untangle the situation in front of them simply required too much attention. Slumped over a nearly invisible dome was a mass of random biological matter around the size of an adult blue whale. Slender limp tendrils of it framed the dome giving shape and dimension to the translucent semi-sphere. Within the dome was a small house sized chunk of the mass that had been neatly sliced off.


    It took a second to place but the young mage realized that the dome was a similar yet much stronger version of the stasis field produced by the generator he had seen inside the First Family private facility. What produced it, however, was not a strangely technological looking magic device. It appeared to be two glass marbles that had fused to some degree, creating a peanut shape.


    While Orison was taking in the scene, dissecting it for clues on how they could approach, Danny reached out a hand. What came to the veteran guardian wasn''t the peanut marble, it was a plain pewter water pitcher. The pouring edge displayed a few spilling drops of supernaturally clear water that evoked thirst. Were it not for an instinct recognizing the water as ''structure poison'' Gan and Orison both would have been quite eager to ask for some. As it was, the two swallowed dryly as they watched Danny pull a cup from his inventory and fill it with measured patience.


    Turning to his companions, the veteran guardian said, "I''d offer you a draught but I sense it might do more harm than good for you. Forgive me in advance for my rudeness."


    Exercising an excruciating amount of self discipline, Danny drank the first cup like a man who was dying of thirst but not for the first time. Slow, timed sips marked his progress through the first and two additional refills before Danny stored the pitcher within himself. Just a little too slow for direct perception, Danny was improving incrementally in all observable aspects, from soul to body.


    Unsure of how to breach what appeared to be a solemn moment for the veteran guardian, Gan and Orison patiently waited for Danny to catch them up to speed. The person in question was wrestling with the return of many things he''d lost along the way but had countless similar experiences to guide him thorough it. While Danny was slowly sorting himself into a reasonable amount of order, he approached the dome.


    When Gan and Orison moved to follow, Danny said, "It wouldn''t be wise to follow me. It might look like a stasis field but it only functions as such on the outer side of its initial boundary. Inside is... different."


    Becoming more profound and mysterious by the minute, the man who was quickly transforming into a complete stranger to them walked into the dome as casually as a man taking an evening stroll. Once Danny had grabbed the peanut shaped marble, aside from himself, time seemed to move in reverse within the dome. Pieces of alien matter flowed back towards the chunk on the floor before moving towards the top of the dome, stopping centimeters before its border, leaving the placid water underneath clean and clear.


    Taking back out the pitcher, Danny drew the pool of clear water into his conduit before shrinking the dome around the chunk of alien matter, leaving the much larger part on the outside to fade as all dead creatures on Osomo did. As it grew smaller, the dome became a sphere that compressed the alien matter, continuing to shrink. Once the sphere had reduced to the size of a basketball, a black substance oozed out while giving off a dangerous air before evaporating as the larger part had.


    Looking wistfully where the larger part of the alien matter had disappeared, Danny made his way back to them once the field had reduced just a little further and stopped producing any vile substances. A few feet away from them, Danny expanded the field again, trapping them inside. Making a calming motion with one hand, he divided up the sphere of solid, purified miasma.


    Wryly noting Gan and Orison''s tension, Danny said, "I didn''t mean to startle you. It''s just that I am adjusting and remembering new things, even now. Not to mention, no matter how much gratitude and favor the two of you are due, I''m no stranger to sudden betrayal either. And whether you realize it or not, what I currently hold in my hand is one of the most precious substances in the lower dimensions. It can be said that the chances of reaching tier four without it are next to impossible outside of special bloodlines or assistance from higher dimensions."


    Orison said, "Before you launch into an explanation on it, Danny, our keys came from a similar source. It wasn''t as condensed or pure but..."


    Danny chuckled. "In that case, I''ll warn you about a few little known facts concerning it. If you''ve already toyed with it enough to become a climber, it''s best use is for the creation and strengthening of conduits. Using it to augment yourself directly will consume your future potential. Moreover, even the weakest of world wills can turn on their own most invested chosen to obtain it.


    "Osomo may not be a world will in truth but in many ways, she is far more powerful than the average lower dimension will. That means we must use it here within the field of my master''s conduit or she will undoubtedly attempt to claim it as she has with the rest. As you can see, I have split it into three equal portions. I will claim whatever you cannot use for master''s temporal centrifuge. It has plenty of room to spare for such a thing. Best to not let it be wasted."


    Taking the portion offered, Orison brought the entirety into his space and let his sub-mind have at it. He felt a little bloated but after having lost so much, it was a welcomed tonic. At first, it seemed like he could have taken far more but that illusion was quickly dispelled. Danny may have made it seem easy to compress and contain the miasma but he had the help of a conduit that belonged to a whole new level of strength if one didn''t compare it to Osomo.


    Looking nervously at Orison, Danny said, "If it becomes too much to bear, expel the rest. If you lose control of the chrism, you can mutate into a creature similar to what it comes from or die."


    To get the absolute maximum use out of it, Orison shut down most of his conscious thought to aid his sub-mind with distribution. Although it had skirted the line almost the whole time, it had only grown truly threatening once. To bring the processing of the miasma back to acceptable levels, he shunted the excess he couldn''t control through Ivan''s mark. Using such a method, he lost around ten to fifteen percent of the total before he was done.


    Coming back to full awareness, the young mage concluded that the whole process had taken around five minutes or so. Glancing at Danny and Gan''s progress with their own, Orison noted that the veteran guardian had less than ten percent left that he had given up on using for his own gains and was feeding it to the peanut marble. Gan still had around half left but as long as Danny kept the field up, Orison guessed that the scout would reach his limits when there was around thirty to forty percent left.


    To burn a little waiting time, Orison asked, "Why not make another conduit?"


    Danny chuckled. "More is not better. Most beings refine and expand one, preferring to collect others when they desire more. It''s a matter of resources really. Even if an entity makes multiple, when they reach a certain point, they''ll end up condensing them. But as with everything else involving climbers, there''s no solid rule. Besides, the best conduits are like children. The more you have, the more your attention gets divided up between them. And just like children, neglected ones can easily end up abandoning their maker in return."


    A little worried, Orison asked, "What if they start out willful and independent?"


    Danny frowned thoughtfully, "From what I know, exceptional conduits that are born with a will of their own tend to be the hardest to subdue or twist the loyalty of, making them the most desired to produce. Much like children, they can be a handful in the beginning but later they become the greatest boons to their creator as long as they aren''t naturally inclined towards excess or vice.


    "Perhaps the greatest reason for not having multiple conduits actually stems from that. Conduits are intimately tied with their creators so they can influence the direction of growth or even directly change their creator. Such problems aren''t present when subordinating an unclaimed conduit, so it''s far more common for additional ones to be acquired rather than made."


    Looking over and seeing that Gan was starting to get shaky and unfocused, Orison reached out a hand and tempered the flow, siphoning trickles for himself and even a little more for Ivan. Ultimately, that only bought Gan a couple more percent but Orison despised seeing himself or the people he cared about having to cough back out even the smallest benefits. Sadly, once there was around ten percent left, Danny announced that holding the temporal centrifuge open much longer was beyond his ability.


    Orison almost called bluff on it. After all, it had been ''open'' for a little over 1200 years with no problem. Despite that, the young mage could see the strain in Danny''s face and there was a lot more going on in the field than just a general time stop. Orison considered that if there was any falsehood in the matter, it stemmed from the peanut.


    Once Danny was done channeling the remaining ''chrism'' to the peanut marble, it disappeared with an audible pop. With a brief hateful look where it had been, the veteran guardian sat down looking visibly pale. With an assurance to Gan and Orison that he was fine, just in need of a little recovery time, the man fell asleep right where he sat. After moving back to a more stable part of the building, the two conscious members of the party didn''t see a reason not to get in a good rest themselves.


    While he slowly slipped into trance, Orison took stock of what he had gained. As much and as helpful as the miasma had been, almost the entirety of it was relegated to future gains rather than present ones. The condensing power of his space''s formation was greatly enhanced. There was also an additional dimensional aspect to his spiritual seat''s room for growth that he couldn''t discern directly but vaguely understood from his sub-mind.


    Perhaps the greatest gain and the one that had cost him the most in resources had been his sub-mind''s work in forcing aspects of his space and spiritual bloodline to merge rather than just grudgingly sharing a cycle between them. Small slips of spacial boundary would no longer take chunks out of him. Moving his intent from inside himself to outside would be much easier too. Intuitively, he could sense that those were merely minor benefits in comparison to the significance such a change represented but he was far from a level where it was a concern.


    During the time that the miasma had saturated the insides of his space, there were all sorts of small things to note. Before the resting mage''s sub-mind could catalog them all midst a myriad of more important divisions of its labor, the core of Orison''s soul shook. Even his sub-mind went blank. Three hours into his trance, the young mage opened sightless eyes as his mouth opened in a silent, mindless parody of disbelief.

 94 Crystal Cage 32

    The very first clear memory that the obsidian elf girl could recall out of a small collection, surrounded by a fog of faded and broken ones, was of her mother.


    Tired and worried, the woman said, "Keita, my heart, your father comes. I know you''ll want him to give you hugs and candy right away but you must stay quiet and out of sight until mommy gives him special hugs, alright?"


    The girl remembered being confused because she had never had to wait before. She wondered if it was because of the man with the bad eyes that made her mother give him special hugs so he wouldn''t tell on her father. She wondered why she had to pretend she didn''t know who her father was, why it was bad. She didn''t understand a lot of things then.


    She didn''t know how she could do it but hiding and being forgotten wasn''t that hard for her even though everything else was, especially learning things. It felt like her head was already so full, it was hard to make things fit in it. It was those things her head was full of that let her know that she could ''fade''. It''s what also let her know what she had to do if she didn''t want to die that night.


    She hid while her father, drunk and angry, stabbed her mother to death. She ''faded'' and followed him around as he looked for her. When her father sat on the floor and started crying, she told him about how her mom had given the bad eyed man special hugs so he wouldn''t tell her father''s boss about her. When her father hugged her and started apologizing, she wondered why she didn''t hate him. All she could feel was sadness and confusion over why the things that filled her head didn''t show her how to save her mother too.


    For a long time things were fuzzy but she remembered that there were a lot of happy days and sad nights during the time that her father had a small house by the ocean and she pretended to be his maid when other people were around. She remembered being confused when they had to leave and her father tried really hard to explain that he had a ''big opportunity'' but they would have to go where her mother came from. It wasn''t a good place.


    The place was so bad that it made her father bad. And, in time, it made her bad too because she had to do bad things with her father so she could eat and have a place to stay. She remembered a man named Hammy that hurt her and made her keep it a secret from her father but she remembered a nice boy-man her father called Country who was really nice to her. She liked him but she was afraid if she started liking him the way her mother liked her father, maybe one day Country would have to stab her to death too.


    During the bad times, some good things happened. She thought about her mother so hard and so many times that a piece of her mother came to live with her inside. It made her happy because her mom would come out to do the bad things for her so she didn''t have to anymore and Hammy got too scared to come hurt her anymore too. Because she could fade and her mother came to live with her, when she pretended to be a boy who helped her father do bad things, people called her Spook. For a little while, she liked that because making people scared of her made her feel strong.


    It didn''t take long for her to get tired of it and then sad because even Country was a little scared of her. Her father was tired in different ways but it didn''t take her long to understand that either because she started feeling tired that way too. She didn''t understand why it was so hard to live. If it was so hard, then she just wanted to sleep and not wake up anymore. When she told her father that, he hugged her. For the second and last time, she saw her father cry.


    Then came the day of a hundred gold. Her father pretended to be happy and they went to the fishing village where she stayed, having a big meal. Her father said it was a good thing because even though they would have to do something bad, they wouldn''t have to do more bad things for a long time. Neither one of them believed that but they pretended they did.


    Right before they went to the place where they''d do the bad thing, her father gave her a locket that her mother had once wore but now it was engraved with a special message for her. She pretended to be happy but she wasn''t. She was sad and angry because the things in her head were showing her what she needed to do to live but she would have to kill a boy, not even a boy-man like Country.


    She didn''t want to live anymore, not that way. She wanted a different life. She didn''t hate her father but she didn''t love him either. All the bad things had finally made him bad inside. The only one she wanted to save was Country. He was good and her father was going to make him do something so bad that Country might become bad inside like her father if she did what she had to in order to live.


    So instead of doing what she needed to live, she looked and looked again until she saw a way for Country to live without having to do anything bad. She had never made all the things in her head show her different ways before and she could tell that she hadn''t seen it as clearly as the ''best'' way that she didn''t want. The way it twisted and hid things made her uneasy but it still showed her what she wanted and that was good enough.


    While they were setting up the ambush, she switched places with Country and then stood a little closer to the spot than she was supposed to. When it was almost time and her father was no longer focused on her, she tied her hair and flipped her hood back up so that the boy wouldn''t notice that she was a girl or be able to see her eyes. He couldn''t delay trying to kill her in any way or the bad man who came a little later would kill all of them.


    It was hard to hold back the reflex to call out her mother when the boy tried to hit her with a horse and put the golem in front of her. It made her heart hurt to hear Country cry out from getting hit by an arrow but she knew he''d be alright. She had never really known much pain outside of the way Hammy hurt her. So when the golem formed around her, breaking bones, her instincts made her start fading. She ''faded'' so hard that she barely even felt the golem step on her, ending her life.


    The last thing she remembered about the ''bad'' life was the piece of her mother that had came back to her, wrapping around her tightly, protecting her from the darkness that wanted to eat her. By the time the piece of her mother that protected her had been eaten by the darkness, she had faded enough that it didn''t know she was there. She stayed like that for awhile, sleeping and becoming distant from the her that died.


    Something disturbed her from the fading. She was being pulled into a sea of power and potential. At least, that''s the way it felt to the small and insignificant soul she had become. Since it didn''t feel wrong, she didn''t fight against it. She expanded, embraced and merged with the potential, waiting. Her past life had become something distant, faded, as she had been before becoming a part of this new thing.


    Then, in what only felt like an instant later, she had a name and a form. She was the Danann Key. Her purpose was to unlock, free, awaken. She could do the opposite as well but such things didn''t appeal to her as much. The boy she had spared with her actions, in turn, had given her a new life and purpose.


    She was grateful and accepting of this new life but that didn''t mean she was free of grudge or the desire to find closure for unexpressed feelings. Until she could dispel that lingering darkness, she thought to keep her distance, though she wouldn''t ignore her maker''s needs. Until that day came, she intended to lose herself to wandering and answering the calls that suited her.


    Having shaken off her mortal coil and the presence that had been both boon and plague to her, there was nothing to stop her from learning and understanding the world and people around her. It was just as well that the first call she answered was a grandmother who had a son and granddaughter that reminded her somewhat of her old life but in a brighter and more loving setting. It saddened her when she parted ways with the son but he had begun to lean on her abilities too much, at great cost to himself. Lingering any longer would have been a bad thing for both of them.


    She saw the struggles and toils of her maker, that he was a creature not quite good or bad but caring deeply for those who he shared a connection with. She witnessed the lengths he would go through to give them even just a little better chance at happiness. It awakened a need, a desire in her as well.


    His sudden disconnection from her was disconcerting but all would be as it would be. She would remain vigilant for his call and continue to carry on her own path. If there was anything positive to take from her addled past self, it was the benefit in rejecting the futility of worrying over things that one had no control over.


    Eventually he did reach to her and she answered as quickly as she could. It was somewhat startling to discover that only a few months had passed for him while it had been a couple of years for her but it was of no great concern. What surprised her is that he didn''t try to keep her by his side but released her back with a simple delivery. Connection closed once again, she was free to follow her own devices once more but there was a small discontent.


    The minor grievance was quickly forgotten in the face of events within Amoril. She could feel a great convergence occurring for some time but it had reached a hovering peak. Inspired by the mood, she threw herself into the hands of a Domain leader who predictably began abusing the power she commanded almost immediately. As the elf reached a crux of triumph, she abandoned him, taking the great sacrifice of personal resources she had siphoned from him with her.


    As the nine day, elf slave empire crumbled before it could reach its influence outward, the final convergence completed. Every creature across the face of the entire world felt that something of great importance had happened. Only entities sensitive to changes in the deeper structures of reality could understand what had happened, however. The Danann Key could be counted among them, even if her understanding was fairly basic.


    The entire reality and everything within it was experiencing a secret baptism as Amoril rose from the lower dimensions into the rank of fully realized ones in the middle dimensions. While this occurred, the Danann Key felt a faint and delicate connection with her maker. Following the trace, she found herself in Morrel''s hand.


    The wood elf looked down at the key in surprise that turned into a mellow sadness tinged with guilt. "I know not why you come at this time but I do not feel completely certain if my sacrifice will be enough for my son, little much his friends as well. If there is some force you might exert to your maker''s aid, then feel at ease to do so. I only ask that you do not harm the success of my child''s arrival."


    The words and actions of the wood elf were a complete mystery to the Danann Key but some of that mystery unfolded before her as soon as he was done speaking. She felt the essence of Morrel''s being stretch out to grasp on to some distant beacon, a seed he had left planted within Rithus. Though it unraveled him to do so, Morrel had pulled his son through boundaries and a major dimensional divide so that Rithus could be enriched by the power of existence that welled through every portion of Amoril.


    The Key was clueless how such a thing could be done. And even if she did, it didn''t seem that beneficial to her. Sure, there may be many untold dangers and chances for failure that were completely avoided but so too were the chances for growth and experience. Still, she was moved by the immensity of this man''s love for his child.


    Before Morrel''s soul moved on to other journeys, it diverted what was of use to Rithus into the stunned and currently reeling man while the remainder seeped into and fortified Droya. Now that the elf was dead, the Danann Key could see what she desired of Morrel''s mysteries but refrained due to other ideas. It would be foolish to move from her world to Orison''s side but she could take some less suicidal inspiration from Morrel''s actions to funnel a little help to her maker that was still trapped on that decidedly inferior realm.


    What she had in mind didn''t exactly play out as the key had envisioned it would, however. Yes, she had made contact and was able to divert a little power of existence to him but the concentrated miasma that Orison''s sub-mind had shoved into her cubbyhole within the young mage had caused her to blank out for a moment as it joined her. What Morrel had done to himself to bring his son here, the Danann Key had almost done to Orison in reverse order, pulling his inner space, soul and spiritual blood across a great metaphorical distance.


    Fortunately, with the miasma at her disposal, there were many options available to her in order to fix her nearly fatal mistake. After exercising her power to protect his spaghetti noodle of supernatural innards from dispersing, she set it on a slow course back to the physical shell it had almost completely detached from. Shuffling through available choices, she found a way that would let her get something she didn''t even know she could have and help her maker in a way he didn''t even know he needed yet.


    Taking some liberties with her miasma fueled abilities and mild power over Orison''s existence, she used his current physical vessel as a cocoon for a metamorphosis. It would take nearly a month on his side for his ''stuffing'' to go back inside him so she sent a message to Gan using the faint presence of tribal fey spiritual blood within the scout. So that Gan wouldn''t have to be mentally scarred from staring at the eerily empty husk Orison currently was, she gathered up some of the naturalizing miasma infused essence in her maker''s surroundings to create a more appealing crystalline cocoon.


    After absorbing some of Morrel''s dissipating impressions, the key realized that Amoril''s will would be occupied with outward focused matters for quite some time. The boldness that had instilled within the deceased wood elf was a little infectious. To celebrate it, she arrested Rithus'' return into becoming a Mashlander and expressed his form as a powerful man with elven features, allowing his acquired dragon heritage its expression in a more desirable way. Knowing what she did of Rithus and where his interests lay, she knew he''d be fairly ambivalent about the meddling as long as he had his tail.


    Seeing that Rithus was becoming aware and already losing himself to grief, the key took on a vanity indulgent elven form and said, "There is no need to mourn his loss because he need not be."


    Misty eyed, Rithus adopted a wary respect. "What will it cost me?"


    The woman nodded in appreciation of his quick mind and sharp intuition. "That depends on how much you ask for but I''m not interested in negotiating. Tell me what you need to absolve your guilt and stave grief. What I need from you isn''t much but I will exchange equal to your need."


    Rithus considered carefully and then replied, "I would like for him to have a new life with what useful knowledge he might. It would be best were he not burdened by the sadness and trials of this one."


    Reaching out to Morrel''s nearby soul, she sealed a small portion of this life''s knowledge and experiences that would serve him well enough before flinging him to a nearby realm with a more tolerant will. For a short moment, she fantasized about how wonderful it would be if she could have an endless supply of miasma. As fanciful delusions of grandeur danced behind her mostly decorative eyes, she turned to a cold sweating Rithus.


    Curious and more than a little fearful, Rithus asked, "What could you possibly need from me when you are capable of such things?"


    She smiled in self mockery, "Almost everything about me that you have seen today is temporary or conditional in some way that would be nearly impossible any other time than here, now and with what I currently possess. To be more direct, what I need from you isn''t much different than what most women eventually want from a man, for much the same purpose in function if not form."

 95 Crystal Cage 33

    Sweating enough to show through his shirt, Rithus said, "That might be somewhat more difficult than you make such an exchange out to be."


    The key in woman form stared blankly at him for a moment before laughing softly, "If I were to go about it the way you imagine, it might, truly. If I had such a thought in mind, I would have approached you a little differently. No, out of respect and difference to your friendship with my maker, your qualities as a person and my own desires, we''ll use a less traditional approach."


    Looking greatly relieved but a little disappointed, Rithus said, "Then please explain because I am thoroughly confused."


    The Danann Key smiled and said, "In a moment, I''ll ask you to close your eyes and lower your spiritual resistance so as not to cause you pain or discomfort. Before that, I need you to move a small amount of the spiritual bloodline you acquired from the dragon souls that merged with your shadow during the ''night of terrors'', to the appropriate place. Since you are a man full grown with a child of his own, I doubt I need to explain things any clearer.


    "And yes, before you ask or explain, I am very well aware of the real nature of that bloodline. It''s tolerance of ''space'' and affinity with ''spirit'' is why it''s needed. Its lack of substance and weakened ability to express itself in all other areas makes it more appealing, not less."


    For all the build-up to the actual moment, a brief cold touch to a sensitive place and it was done. Taking Rithus'' contribution and fashioning one of her own, she sent what would form the core of Orison''s new physical vessel down the line of his stretched out innards.


    Rithus shook his head. "I don''t understand. Even the shadow in my bones is having difficulty grasping the reason behind your choices."


    The woman shaped key smiled with a slight hint of wickedness. "That would be because my choices weren''t made from the standpoint of logic but desire. Nor am I an existence bound by the viewpoint of life as you understand it."


    Moving to stand a little too close for Rithus'' comfort she looked up into his eyes and said, "It pleases me to confuse you but before you consider me cruel, I''ll give you a reason you can accept. Amoril erased some things and added others when it merged with all of its echoes. Orison lost his fate and physical origin here. He needed an anchor to fully justify his existence or he would struggle to cross the divide between the lower dimensions and here. In other words, real parents. Thankfully, erasing and rewriting events is a costly privilege only lower dimensional wills possess. Once Amoril became fully realized, the will lost that ability but it''s power to suppress outsiders and enforce its laws of existence have become much stronger."


    Rithus'' face grew flushed as he shyly asked, "You and I are Orison''s parents?"


    She said, "How you chose to interpret your relationship with my maker is up to you but I am not his mother. A remnant inside of a secret tomb and a generous dash of miasma together serve as legacy and womb, symbolically at least. Besides, did you not once indulge in the fantasy of Orison being a son you could could watch over and teach things to?"


    Rithus grew angry until mortified self-loathing caused him to turn away from her so he could get his emotions under control.


    The key said sadly, "The simple dreams we had when we were simple beings are the best of us. It was wrong of me to expose such a thing so bluntly but... It''s a part of my nature to be drawn to and grant such desires when it''s within my ability to do so. If... If I didn''t have a desire of my own to seek and more time to nurture feelings, I wouldn''t have minded pursuing a more... traditional approach to what I''ve done with you. I find you to be a good man."


    Rithus turned to face her. Seeing the woman''s shy demeanor after hearing her flattering confession stirred something within himself that he hadn''t felt for a long time.


    He admitted, "I find that to be a pleasant thought."


    Under the ambiguous atmosphere, the Danann Key suddenly recalled enough of the woman she had been to find looking at the physical proof of how pleasant he found such a thought to be more than she could bear as she turned away herself. Rithus came to a sudden realization of his own. Looking down, he quickly packed away the equipment she had left out. Once he was decent, Rithus tried to find the right words that would convey all of his complex thoughts and feelings about her and the situation they were in but when he looked up, she was gone.


    Over the next few days, the Danann Key indulged in some self wish fulfillment. Pretending to be some kind of messenger from the afterlife, she told Cray about Keita''s crush on him but after discovering where his heart lay, helped him reunite with the obsidian elf girl he had tried to forget but couldn''t. A little wistfully heartbroken, she came up with another, far more radical idea for her self reinvention. In retrospect, giving birth to herself with her old flame and then having him raise her was pretty crazy and not very effective anyway.


    Settling for lesser wishes, she dug up Hammy''s remains and infused them into the catch tank of an ancient, magical elven portable toilet before gifting it to the Cantrip Clan. Disguising herself as ''Spook'', she kidnapped and nearly scared Mellow and Hefty to death before taking them to a small pit filled with gold and gems she had plundered from old elven ruins. After ''swimming'' in it for awhile, she let them take as much as they could carry before splitting it up into gift portions for people she met and liked.


    For a few months, she indulged in a slew of heartwarming, insane and terrifying acts of personal gratification while she waited to make sure Orison''s insides would make it back to him safely. Ending it on a calm note, after explaining what she was offering and wanting, she spent a week in platonic affection with Rithus that still ended on a less than platonic note despite both of them knowing it was a bad idea. Unable to convince her to stay, Rithus swore to find her as she disappeared. Her heart clenched in excitement at the prospect of such a chase and swore to be his if he could. Neither of them knew if they could keep such a promise but both were willing to try.


    Using all but a small amount of the remaining miasma as fuel and protection, the Danann Key crossed boundary after boundary in search of a way to make her own desire a reality without betraying her directives or her maker''s needs. Whatever the enigmatic and elusive thing she was searching for, she seemed to have found it in an expansive plane with a multitude of sub planes. It was a place rife with magic, power and possibility. Natives who possessed the potential to cross the divide to the highest of material existences were born a handful a generation. It was here that she intended to reinvent herself and be reborn.


    ***


    Orison scrambled over and through the bits and pieces of himself that didn''t get reabsorbed as he pounded his way through the crystalline shell. Retching and coughing up a foul tasting jelly, Orison cast presto multiple times on himself.


    In a hoarse voice, he croaked, "What kind of broken gold finger, Mary Sue bullsh*t was I forced to witness!? Pulling us up to the mid dimensions wasn''t a good thing for us but jet-packing yourself to the very limits of said mid dimensions was honky-dory?"


    Pelenel''s voice cut over his tirade. "You just emerged. Your emotions are going to be unbalanced and you still need to recover. For the next few days, you''re going to need to stuff yourself and drink a great deal of fluids to complete your transition or you could end up with defects that would be undesirable."


    Honing in on his distant kin, Orison was about to rant at Pelenel until he saw a box filled with a variety of delicacies that made all of his focus fall on it. Reaching out a slender and emaciated arm, he took the box and nearly choked himself to death trying to get its contents into himself even just a little faster.


    Halfway through his fourth glass of water and third serving of food, Orison asked, "Where''s Gan?"


    Pelenel said, "He''s exploring the edges of the Shadow Region. He should be returning in a couple of days. Don''t worry overmuch. Ivan and Emris'' older brother are with him. That rabbit fellow is as well but I get the impression that he''s more comedy relief than anything else... It''s better that others not see you until you are fully yourself."


    Orison snorted. "Some kind of relief, I''m sure... Wait, why would it be better for no one to see me? What do I look like?"


    Looking at him blandly, Pelenel said, "You look like a sickly, desiccated, reanimated cadaver. If you''d like to have nightmares about it later, I could hand you a mirror?"


    Orison blanched. "No, that''s alright... What happened while I was incubating or whatever the hell you want to call it?"


    Pelenel said, "Danny thought that you had lost control of the chrism he had given you and were mutating into something that they would have to destroy but Gan wanted a second opinion. Vaguely remembering that we shared kinship, your friend asked if there was a chance that I could illuminate your situation. Fortunately, I could but I must admit to some confusion.


    "Your reawakening was the most harrowing one I have ever seen. Whether it was my own or the two others I had witnessed, we shed a few layers of ourselves and took a few days. You regrew yourself from the very beginning and took nearly four weeks to awaken. I fear if I was not here to add some vitality to you, you may not have completed your metamorphosis and died of exhaustion."


    That was the last thing Orison heard as he slipped into trance. The next few days were more of the same. He''d wake long enough to eat, drink and take care of a few physical needs before slipping back into trance.


    By the time that Gan returned, Pelenel no longer saw a need to stay and begged off to return to his own tasks. To thank his distant kinsman for his care, Orison gave Pelenel a few trinkets from the care package his conduit had managed to collect for him as she ran around the first week of her insane holiday.


    With a friendly face he could confide in, Orison laughed and cried out what he had witnessed of his key''s story in half amused impotent fury. He finished by dumping out the crate of sentimental junk she had deigned to send him. Gently setting aside a handkerchief wrapped stack of baked goods made by Droya and violently flinging a pair of women''s undergarments to a corner of the room before setting them on fire, Orison let Gan pick out a few things too.


    Running over to stamp the underwear out, Gan said, "I don''t know what the garment ever did to you but the ventilation in here isn''t so good."


    Orison muttered, "Venito probably thought it would be quite the touching gift... She drunk the tea. It was her choice but she''s dead to me. End of story."


    Gan looked at Orison in confusion, so he added, "Venito''s going away party, Lyra and I... To be fair, no one knows and none save herself would have ever known if my conduit wasn''t sensitive to dead elves and their creations, that includes offspring. It also includes those who are only part elf."


    Seeing that Gan was about to try and console him, Orison staved the scout off with a raised hand. "There''s nothing to grieve or consider. I''m angry but I''ll get over it. It''ll probably be awhile before we make it back there. Hell, she might be dead before then, maybe even of old age. Who the f*** knows?"


    More to distract the young mage than out of any genuine interest, Gan asked, "What was that like, the thing you just went through?"


    Orison stalled mentally before he said, "It''s like being made new. Everything that happened before it seems like another life that happened a long time ago or like it happened to someone else that you can relate to. It''s all dull around the edges. Only the brightest parts feel relevant."


    Sounding a bit insecure, Gan asked, "Which parts still feel... bright?"


    Orison gave Gan a lopsided smile and said, "Your parts, mom''s... Rithus and Duran may not be as bright but they''re there. Morrel, may his soul find peace and a better life, Venito and a few others feel distant but close if that makes sense."


    Smiling mischievously, Gan said, "So Rithus is your old man now, huh?"


    Orison rolled his eyes, "If it didn''t matter to Rithus, it wouldn''t matter to me at all. Time changes a lot of things. By the time we meet up again, it might not even BE a thing. What does bother me is that he''s in love with the girl that possessed my conduit. If he ever does manage to catch up to her, maybe she''ll have made it workable... One thing''s for sure. The Danann Key''s going to get a good scrubbing down before I let it sit in my hand again."


    Gan looked at Orison, trying hard to hold it in before he burst into hysterical laughter. "I can see why."


    The next few days, Orison finished his recovery. At first, the ravenous appetite slacked off as his need for rest decreased back to normal ranges. Then he started feeling strong, began having to actively practice containing his glamour to keep it from spilling out. Lastly, he felt final touches filling in.


    There was a subtle presence of maturity and defining masculinity that he hadn''t possessed before. There was also a subtle sense that his body was merely a projection of what was truly important. Its maintenance and improvement was merely adding another layer of protection over what really mattered, like a good coat or a thick pair of socks. That feeling disturbed the young mage. Maybe it was the lingering sentiments of the original Orison but he found comfort in still being able to recognize a familiar feature or two in the mirror, even if that person was enhanced and moderately altered.


    During his recovery, Orison had discussed what his plans were. He was a little upset that his main goal of solving the thousand year old mystery between Danny and the dead woman in Construct Three had been thwarted. But like much else that had happened before his rebirth, it was a worn and tired kind of emotion. Getting what he came for, the man had ''stepped'' out.


    Orison could intuit that he, Ivan and Gan had enough ''fuel'' for a step baptism but they all needed some kind of moment to act as a catalyst, a spark to ignite it. The best place that he could think of to do that was Construct One which was located under Shadow Keep''s adjoining city. Interestingly enough, people knew it was there but only degree three and under spiritual classes could get in and it was considered suicide.


    For the odd summoner or necromancer that had the guts to enter, they either never came back out or were seriously soul faded. Oddly enough, those qualified to enter could bring up to three companions but those that failed to come out themselves also doomed their allies as well. The soul faded ones had a shoddy record of companion survival also but some did emerge and their stories were the reason Construct One rarely had any visitors.


    After taking one more day to acclimate himself with his body and understand what all had changed. Orison was ready to go. After a night of drinking and rabble rousing with Theo and Emris'' older brother Arazmus, so was Gan. Once a surprise addition of Rose had been announced after Theo bailed, Ivan was more than ready to go.


    Having an aside moment with Gan, Orison said, "What the hell is going on? I didn''t have a problem with Theo because he was your buddy but Duran and Rithus both got the creepy crawlies around Rose."


    Gan sighed and said, "Your word is law on who stays and goes, Little Boss, but reconsider. She actually did you a solid why you were... whatever that was."


    Brows furrowed, Orison said, "I''m all ears."


    The scout explained how she had been friends with Emris'' wife so when the Wards became royalty, they extended their authority to grant Rose Chosen status. Everyone knew that she was a little stab happy but it came in handy when she volunteered to infiltrate Sek and find out who was behind the stubborn refusal to let Orison off despite being on friendly terms with three royal families. After successfully getting the list of Sek royalty behind it, almost dying in the process, she returned to Emris with it and the problem was finally laid to rest. It seemed that Orison actually owed her a favor.


    On the day of the meetup, Orison looked for a moment to have a private word with the Draconos woman. "Why do you want to come on this trip? More than one person has advised against it. Even Theo didn''t come because he said if he survived his mother would kill him."


    Rose smiled and said, "I have a pet theory. I think you cracked Fortune''s construct but didn''t claim it. Since I saved my second training for necromancer, I thought I could take what you don''t want."


    Orison shook his head, "What does an assassin, er, striker and a necromancer even make?"


    Rose replied demurely, "Nothing but it seems like it should, just like your choices do. I only get three active years anyway. I''m taking a gamble. Look, I''ll even play nice with Ivan and be a well behaved party member the whole time as long as I don''t think you''re trying to get me killed."


    Since activating spirit sight didn''t cause him physical sight issues anymore, Orison didn''t notice how brightly his eyes blazed or their brief narrowing to serpentine slits as he warned, "See that you do. If I have reason to believe some harm came to one of mine because of your actions, the things I''ll do to you will make devils weep."


    Seeing a light tremble shoot through her, he felt satisfied that he''d made the impression he desired until he caught a faint sent of arousal. That satisfaction turned into the beginnings of a tension headache. With the understanding of just how differently the woman was mentally wired, he whispered a quick warning to Ivan not to push Rose too far with the flirting and hoped for the best.

 96 Crystal Cage 34

    Once they had arrived at Indigo, Arazmus addressed them. "Shadow Reach Keep is five miles south over there on the mountain. Like all the transporters in this circuit, you either have to physically travel to it once or get someone whose been there to lead you. None of you look like dumb kids so I''ll save the stranger danger speech.


    "We are about to go through the slums here to get where you need to go. If it''s nighttime when, IF, you leave Construct One, don''t walk to the transporter or get an inn room there. The only kind of places that will open their doors to you at nighttime in Indigo are places you don''t want to be and only high range Chosen have any safety on its streets after sundown."


    When Orison heard slums, what he imagined wasn''t even close to the reality. It wasn''t that there was a lack of depravity and desperation. It was the clean and orderly way that it was presented.


    Unable to hold his curiosity, Orison asked the mature and dependable looking Draconos, "Who funds the homeless shelter? It actually looks nicer than some of the houses around here."


    Arazmus said, "Everyone, the Guild of Flesh and whatever group''s on top of the grime in this city mostly. It''s not kindness, it''s need."


    The young mage began to understand. Much like the case with Thoth, there was a natural welling of the essence used most by the trainer in its location. Where Thoth''s spiritual essence was exploited for the magic convenience item industry, Indigo''s was exploited for cheap, renewable labor. The vast amount of undead used for industrial purposes created an invisible smog of necromantic energy that permeated the slums. Each unobserved death added to their issues. Orison didn''t envy the reinstated royal family''s inevitable struggle to deal with it.


    Interrupted from his thoughts by a notification message, Orison opened it. Noting early on how Osomo''s urgent request board could help him discover all kinds of things, Orison had set his notification alert to bring up nearby urgent requests as a way of passively scanning for exploitation. In this case, it was a handful of requests for aid from the First Family that became active when the person making them became a royal.


    It wasn''t funny to the young mage that the requests were worded as prayers. It was heart breaking. At first, he thought it was a local issue but that was quickly dispelled by the identification of the persons in question being a Dracanos and whatever the Nunos family considered themselves to be. As much as he wanted to avoid delays and drama, it was just too much for him to ignore after having read a few of the messages.


    Stopping Arazmus, Orison pointed at the large and beautiful building at the end of a colorful street marked off from the rest of the slum by a three city block warded wall. "What do you know about that place?"


    Arazmus cracked a knowing grin. "A 10,000 gold membership and 1,000 gold per visit will tell you everything you need to know. When I was younger and dumb, I spent nearly all of my inheritance to get that membership. I thought to use it as a way to get in good with the rich and powerful but I found out quick that no one is interested in making friends there.


    "I''ll admit to satisfying some curiosity about their services once or twice before I wised up. That was years ago, though. You wouldn''t catch me dead in a place like that these days. There''s just too much stink underneath all the perfume and wine. That, and it''s too damn expensive. Why, looking to make a pleasant memory in the most expensive pleasure house in all of Osomo before marching to your doom?"


    Orison sent a secret message to Ivan for some advice and to let him know about the other resident currently residing in the Hidden Pearl estate, headquarters of the Guild of Flesh.


    While he waited for the startled Nunos man to respond, Orison said, "Here in just a moment, you''re going to need to do something really important. I''m just waiting on finding out the best way to do it."


    Speaking quickly, Ivan said, "It''s really more a favor for me. Sorry for the trouble but do you think you could escort me back to the transporter?"


    With an aggrieved sigh, Arazmus consented and said, "I know things can spring up on you but I have things I''d like to get done today as well. Go into the first gambling hall on the right. Pay for a drink and play a few games. Whatever you do, don''t leave until I get back and if a high range Chosen wants you to kiss their a**, pucker and stall for time."


    As Ivan passed Orison, he asked in a whisper, "What are their names?"


    Orison swallowed a little bile as he said, "Sweetness Ward and Little Stag Nunos."


    Trying to keep his imagination occupied on safer subjects, Orison immediately went to the bar past the entry fee collector and bought a low alcohol beverage, paying for Rose out of a polite habit from another life. When Gan went for the hard stuff, Orison reminded him what they would be doing later. As they sat, patiently waiting for their companions'' return a couple of unlucky games later, the young mage saw a familiar face.


    An athletic Draconos woman in dragon lancer gear approached Orison with a hovering human man in healer''s garb trailing behind. "If it isn''t the little calamity slayer. Must have been one mountain of a miracle for you to pull that off."


    With nothing better to do and Gan having found himself a game of cards to join, Orison indulged in friendly banter with the two while he waited. He excused himself for a moment when a message popped up requesting him to reenact the trick that saved Ivan. Not thinking much of it, and with Ivan and Arazmus by the transporter where the two captive royals should appear, Orison constructed two beacon models.


    After casting them, Orison thought better of it and cast a third. With everything that had happened, he figured it would be better to be safe than sorry and wait at the transporter til the captives arrived. With a quick parting word to his conversation partners and Gan, Orison released the third model that would take him to the transporter.


    What happened at that moment was a mess only his sub-mind could process. As he was releasing the model, a man behind him had yelled something about killing his father with emotion that seemed hollow and forced. With a better viewpoint, the dragon lancer lady attempted to keep Orison from being hit by extending a weird space bending ability that he had seen once before. Seeing that she wasn''t going to make it in time, the healer that was with her used some kind of Osomo assisted ability which sped his personal time up immensely as he hit Orison with an additional unknown high powered ability.


    Two different spacial abilities and two magics of opposing essence didn''t mesh well. Chances were good that Osomo would have auto corrected the situation if it wasn''t for Orison''s usage being outside its parameters. All that really meant was that the young mage hadn''t been sent to the transporter in front of him, he was sent to the one a bit farther behind him, deep in the bowels of Construct One. And while whatever the healer did protected Orison''s body from any harm, his gear was shredded to confetti.


    Whatever the unknown assailant had used, carried a ridiculously strong entropy effect. The brief battle between the healer''s power and the attacker may have canceled out but they had done so within Orison. He had no way of telling how long he had been senseless but thankfully he hadn''t been in any immediate peril or he still would have died.


    As he struggled to sit up, a stranger with dark green hair backed away with his hands up in a comically similar way to surrendering. Behind him was an ebony skinned elf that would have been like a swan among ducks if compared to any obsidian elf the young mage had met in another world. Both were dressed in a manner that could only be considered as obscene. The clothing''s presence only serving to accentuate what very much wasn''t left to the imagination, an absurd parody of what purpose clothing was meant to serve.


    Since they weren''t hostile, orison focused on trying to message his companions only to discover that his connection to Osomo was currently shielded against entirely. With a sinking feeling, Orison immediately understood that meant he wasn''t going to be using any cheats to get out of whatever situation he had found himself in. Fortunately, the shielding factor didn''t have any effect on his personal abilities or access to his space.


    Seeing that his hunter set of equipment was ruined beyond mend''s ability to repair, Orison pulled out the set of equipment he''d gotten from the tower. He''d fixed it days ago but for the very reason that he was forced to use it now, he''d continued using the set he''d gotten from Herne. Considering how they were dressed, Orison didn''t bother with false modesty and quickly changed.


    As he explored his new environment, Orison said, "Little Stag, I presume? You look a bit older than I thought you would. By that, I mean an adult."


    The man sighed. "In human years, I''m almost old enough to be your father, I think. By my people''s standards I guess I could be considered to be one. Orison, I presume? Just Stag, if it suits. The ''little'' part feels like nothing but mockery anymore."


    The young mage nodded, "Figured out much about what we''re going to be dealing with past those doors over there?"


    Stag shook his head as the elf girl said, "There is darkness and danger beyond those doors. You may survive for a time but we would surely die as we are."


    As he rummaged through a meager selection, Orison said, "Yeah, I have a hard time seeing you survive a cool breeze at the moment. I got two sets of gear here I wouldn''t wear to a beach much less a battle but they''re yours. Osomo has some strange aesthetics."


    Letting them decide between themselves who got to wear what, Orison took a peek beyond the doors to see a pit filled with mostly unmoving bodies and ominous shadows flitting about. Closing the cracked door, Orison took a calming breath and turned around. Despite the situation, he had a desire to see what the absurd outfits looked like on real people.


    The girl almost look surreal in an all white pair of skin tight shorts and tank top. What Orison assumed was supposed to be a robe, looked more like an over-sized short sleeve button-up with a hood. In a way he couldn''t quite explain, the girl looked pure and lewd at the same time.


    Stag''s outfit was loud but it didn''t end up looking as bad as the young mage thought it would. The leopard print half-wrap added a touch of decency to what looked like leather compression shorts with a bit of lacing at the top. With the sleeveless vest and bandanna that matched the wrap, Stag looked like a person going to a spring break rock concert. They both did.


    Orison sighed. "It doesn''t look like it''ll actually do much protecting but the enchantments are decent."


    Stag said, "These are named set gears. They''re a lot better than you seem to think. I''m curious, not that I''m trying to be greedy or anything, but do you have a pair of weighted gloves? Iliyani''s set should have a hat and staff too, I think.


    Orison handed the requested items over and said, "That witch''s hat might have a few nice enchantments but she''s going to lose it in no time. The staff doesn''t look like it could take too many bangs before the top would break off, either... Not to sound judgmental but why would you even want to wear those gloves? I would think that someone would rather use their hands than hit with padding, even if it is a little heavier."


    Stag looked at him dubiously. "I would think this an impossibility but how could you not know about named sets? In this strange place they may not be that helpful but everywhere else, these gloves would make my fists hit like a hammer. Even in here, that hat would stay on her head unless it''s severely damaged or she wants to take it off... One of the reasons there are so few sixth degree or higher Chosen is because getting one of these sets is a condition and once they''ve been worn, they''re only good for that person."


    Iliyani said, "Because of this gift, I will go to Auma and take up the healer training. Once I have done enough, I can use this set to become a white witch at fourth degree and reach sixth with no major obstacles."


    Trying to cover his ignorance a little belatedly, Orison said, "It''s not so much that I didn''t know any of that, I just don''t really like the trainers and I didn''t really think about it. I didn''t really expect that you''d be that knowledgeable."


    Stag said, "We weren''t house raised. If we survive, I''ll thank you for making it so that our possible future children won''t be either."


    Orison said, "No offense intended. While we''re on the subject of what you know, though... Are there any skills or abilities you have that you''re able to use in here?"


    Iliyan said, "I was on my way to the first training after being chosen when I was... tricked. I don''t know any skills but my racial inheritance is being able to hide inside a shadow. I''m not that strong so I can''t do it for long. It''s how I followed Stag through your invitation. I was fortunate for my cleaning cage to be next to his."


    With a numb, practiced apathy, Stag said, "The outer family is little more than a breeder program for the main family and I wasn''t Chosen. When the matriarch found out I was her dead husband''s b*****d, I was sent to that place. When I woke up over a month ago as a royal, I now know why. I should thank my father for choosing good breeding stock or I''d have had my throat slit instead.


    "Sorry, you wanted to know what I could do, not my sob story... If I push really hard, I can knock people out if they''re not that strong. It wears me out pretty quick but I can make people...nice to me. It wears off after a couple of days if I don''t keep doing it and people can build up a resistance if I do it to them too much. That''s about it."


    Doing some quick thinking, Orison remembered the crystal pellet and portable trainer that had been buried inside his five colored dirt. He couldn''t remember Pelenel forbidding him from sharing what had been given and it was grim circumstances. He highly doubted the dead lady would overly mind Orison sharing her models. He''d like to think that she''d be happy to have a young woman carry on her artistic legacy.


    With another mental thanksgiving to the mustard seed bracelet, the young mage took the trainer out. "Alright, I have something here that''ll at least give you something to work with... I have difficulty saying names with parts that sound like two letters at the same time. Is it alright to call you Annie?"


    She nodded with a weak smile.


    Orison gave her a reassuring one in return and continued, "This portion will teach you three specialized models and a good deal of theory on how they work. Together they''ll make you kind of a summoner and artificer blend but every bit of it is Osomo independent. The down side is that you''ll only be able to learn one more combat training. If it''s healer, then your professions are going to be reduced to one as well but.."


    As she took the trainer and focused on the part Orison pointed out, she said, "There is nothing to consider. Thank you."


    Once she was done absorbing the information, she sat down dizzily and started trying to sort it all out.


    Taking the trainer from her loose hands, Orison turned to Stag next. "This part teaches how to control and develop your spiritual bloodline. It was tailored for me but I think I can fill in the blanks where wild and tribal fey differ. Like me, you sort of muddled your way through setting up a natural cycle but it''s a hot mess. Before you start adjusting it, let me help. I won''t get too involved. I just want to make sure you don''t blow out a kidney or something... It was just a joke but you really do need a little help adjusting."


    After a small amount of hesitation, Stag consented. Once the Nunos man started the process of exploring what he''d just learned, Orison ran what healing he could through damaged channels. Letting his sub-mind take over the involved and delicate parts, the young mage began verbally guiding Annie through initial meditation and visual work.


    A handful of agonizing hours later, Orison switched up as he used his sub-mind to help Annie guide and shape her summons. While he explained the finer details of Stag''s training, he pointed out the subtle but important differences between wild and tribal fey lineage. From there on, it would be up to Stag what was right for him.


    The rolling delay was eating up Orison with anxiety but rushing into the unknown unprepared wasn''t an option. Taking a breather, Orison well wished Gan and hoped for the best before returning to spot guidance and demonstration. Once it looked like they had the hang of it, Orison let them take a rest while he kept an eye on things.


    Exhausted and mentally fatigued, Orison broke out leftovers from Pelenel''s prepared meals to share with his ''students'' before slipping into trance himself. While he was out, his sub-mind would occasionally peek in on things to find the two taking turns resting and quietly practicing a little more. It wasn''t until boredom or nerves got the best of them and they started whispering to each other that his sub-mind stirred itself into a more active state.

 97 Crystal Cage 35

    Most of the half rescued couple''s chat revolved around disturbing ''shop'' talk that the sub-mind all but completely dumped. The part about how their respective handlers had just finished ''breeding'' the two for the first time, was kept. It also noted the friendly but rather professional attitude they had towards each other. The numbness that they had towards being treated as less than people and the lack of any meaningful emotional ties to each other was something Orison would want to know.


    When the conversation drifted towards discussions about Orison and what they thought he might want from them, the speculation went from outlandish to overly cold and logical. Though they couldn''t reach an agreement on what the truth was, Orison''s casual generosity, concern and unexpected respectfulness had managed to earn him a grudging amount of trust mixed with a little benefit of doubt.


    Coming full circles but not really having much else to talk about that would distract them from the dangerous situation they found themselves in, not really knowing each other that well, they discussed Orison through the ''lens'' of shop talk. Though their earthy conversation was mostly complimentary, it would be far too embarrassing and disturbing for Orison''s conscious mind to easily process. Blurring the edges, Beta focused on the goodwill and beginnings of friendly affection that the conversation implied before letting the information seep towards the controlling consciousness.


    Snapping out of trance, the young mage took in what he''d missed while he was napping and somewhat wished he hadn''t. The last thing he''d do in such a sensitive situation is say or do anything to risk upsetting or offending people who''d experienced enough as it was. He would find ways to set the record straight on some of their wayward thoughts before their time together was said and done. It might be childish but being misunderstood or letting something that was patently false stand without challenge just wasn''t his style.


    Orison took a steady, calming breath and said, "You might not be hungry but we''re going to eat a little, drink some water and do whatever business we can before we walk through those doors over there. Who knows how long it will be before we have another safe moment to get something down or out."


    In mostly silence, the group ate, drank and did what needed to be done.


    Once Orison showed signs of giving marching orders, Annie and Stag looked to each other before Annie said, "Well, there is one more thing we could try to get out before we go. It... might be the last chance any of us have to... celebrate life."


    Seeing that the two had already started preparing to bring the conversation they had while he was resting to a crystal clarity his sub-mind couldn''t blur, Orison said, "Nope. Time''s up. If you want to ''celebrate life'', it''s going to be after we survive this place. And before either of you bring up some cringy guilt trip, I don''t despise or look down on you. It''s just that I think what you two are proposing sounds like something a person does when they think they''ll lose. Sorry, but while you''re with me, we are going to be winners. Fake it til you make it if you have to. I am certain both of you know how to fake it, right?"


    Seeing that he got a weak smile out of Stag and a nervous giggle out of Annie, the young mage said, "Good. Then there''s no excuse... Annie, you''re going to need the Oberon model. Anything with a body gets too close, get it to draw the hate and weaken with heal trickles, then go for stabs to their cores. That''s head for zombies and skeleton mages, behind the breastbone for all the other skeleton types.


    "Stag, you''re physical back-up. Your glamour and intent are a desperation move since they''ll leave you tired. Leave spirit types to me unless there''s too many. Both of you need to stay close so I can provide cover against them. If we get separated and it looks like trying to group back up isn''t worth it, then follow your best judgment. Whatever you do, don''t lose your cool and don''t give up."


    With creatures summoned and everything that needed to be said out of the way, Orison headed to the door.


    "Wait, wait!" Stag said.


    Reigning in his impatience to begin, Orison lamely joked, "What is it? Did you leave your sunscreen at home?"


    Stag said, "What? Never mind that. You said that glamour is my desperation move. I won''t disagree that I should use it sparingly but do you feel the same way too? You do realize that undead are very weak-willed."


    Orison snorted. "What am I going to do, friend them to death? Your glamour and mine are pretty similar and I doubt its affects are going to last past us actively using them to instill false emotion."


    Stag looked at Orison in confusion. "How are our glamours alike? Mine makes people care about me."


    The young mage said, "And mine makes them think about me in a positive light."


    More confused, Stag said, "No it doesn''t. It''s an inspiration type. When you were letting me feel it, I wanted to focus and try harder. It was really subtle but I could tell."


    They both were confused.


    To clear it up, Orison had Stag feel his glamour again. "Now I want to understand you better. What kind of glamour do you actually have?"


    Annie said, "Think about me and then let Stag feel your glamour."


    Seeing no reason not to, Orison gave it a try.


    Stag said, "Now I want to like you. You''re kind of pure hearted aren''t you? Ha, ha, ha! Now I feel a little annoyed at myself... It''s kind of scary. If you took me by surprise, it would slip right under my notice. I think your glamour is actually more effective and dangerous, the weaker it is."


    Annie said, "It''s suggestion and a lot of people can do it. Not like you can, Orison, but similar in a blunt way. One thing is true... That''s useless against undead unless he''s actively holding it, Stag."


    Right as Orison was about to call an end to the conversation, Annie added, "Unless you were focusing it on just one. I''ve heard a mid range necromancer talk about making his first grudge. He poured all his negative emotions into some spirit and then controlled it with suggestions. I''m sure it was a lot more complicated than that and it would be harder since it wasn''t made by you but you should be able to."


    Orison said, "It might be but I would have to learn how to separate the control of my glamour from my personal feelings or weird things would happen. That would take time we might not have. It was helpful for the future, though. Thank you. Thank you both, actually. Who knows how long it would have taken me to figure that out on my own. I don''t even like using it."


    Stag shrugged. "Power is power. What''s not to like?"


    Orison said, "A power that would turn you into a person you would hate, is a power not to like as far as I''m concerned. It''s sick to twist and control people for selfish reasons. It''s sick to do it for any reason when you violate other''s free will entirely. I might do it for self defense or to protect what I care about but I''m not going to pretend that it would be ''good'' because that would be delusional.


    "To make it a little more clear, I might cook a dead person and feed that to a loved one to keep them from starving to death. So they wouldn''t have to be burdened with that, I would lie about it, say I found some pork or something. I might be able to justify that and even praise myself but it would be bullsh*t.


    "That''s just me, though. If I see someone doing things I hate, I hate them. If I see someone doing something I like, I like them. I prefer my moral compass to be as simple and clear as possible. That it points smack dab in the middle of gray somewhere is something I can live with but I try to be good when I can because I think it matters."


    As Orison headed out the door, intent on not being stopped again, Stag asked, "Do you think you could be friends with a wh*re?"


    Smashing the first unnaturally moving body he encountered with Herne''s halberd, Orison looked for his next target as he made his way out. "Not even a question in my mind. Why shouldn''t I be able to?"


    A minute or so later, as she ordered her Oberon to assist Orison''s in harassing one skeleton while he cleaved into another, Annie asked, "Could you fall in love with one?"


    Focusing his devouring intent, Orison sent it piercing through a weak shade as he replied, "I don''t think love is something that respects permission but I wouldn''t want to. That said, it''s just a job. You can quit a job any time you want."


    Orison could hear the sneer in Stag''s voice as the Nunos man said, "Do something long enough and it becomes you. We didn''t choose to be this way. They made us, for years in my case. How were we supposed to just quit? Kill ourselves?"


    Thrusting the business end of the halberd into something wiggling under a rotting body that screeched as it was pierced, Orison said, "Small change of plans. Stag, I need you to keep an eye on the floor. There''s a grub-like creature and it''s got teeth... I call bullsh*t on the first part. It''s hard to control how you feel but what you think is up to you. As for the second part, if it wasn''t your choice, you never were a wh*re. You were a hostage and a r*pe victim. Whether it was once or a thousand times doesn''t change the fact that as long as it was against your will, you were a victim not an employee.


    "If a client was aware that what they did was against your will, they weren''t a customer. They were a r*pist. For those that didn''t know, they were victims as well. They committed r*pe without knowing it, dirtying themselves in the sins of your captors."


    Things got too hectic for talk after that. It became obvious that talking would draw more shades and even though Orison had no problems with them for now, too many would be a problem for Stag and Annie. Another thing that became obvious over time was that, just like Listless Corridors, slowing down was bad and stopping was dumb.


    Orison felt lost without Gan. Though it was a big part of it, it wasn''t just the greater range the scout had with his map. He was trapped in a huge, dank pit carpeted with corpses in varying degrees of poorly preserved decay with strangers. The only thing that broke the monotony was the occasional pillar and he had no idea which one was the way up, if any of them were.


    While he contemplated Northlander practicality in the face of impending doom, Orison had a small moment of clarity. Remembering the time that the honor band was teasing and trying to halfheartedly earn a reward from him, Gan had said something about keeping an eye for the branches and an eye for the shadows. Hvar had quipped that you wouldn''t be looking at anything if you tripped over a tree root and knocked your a** out. With everyone sharing their opinion on where an eye should be pointed, Orison had jokingly asked just how many eyes a person needed to cover everything.


    In a burst of vivid memory, it was almost like he could hear Hvar''s reply. "An idiot could have a hundred eyes and still trip over a tree root. A smart man could spend his whole life looking for something and not find it without a little luck. Fact is, you don''t need a single eye yourself if you can get the one who knows where to look, do it for you. Only grunts like us have to do everything for ourselves."


    Orison stopped meandering aimlessly and started looking for spots with only one or two enemies and aimed for them. As soon as he got close he''d send out a weak wave of glamour. The first couple of times was a bust but eventually he ran across a shade who turned away from him when it was hit, looking at a particular direction.


    Seeing that the young mage was burning spirit on controlling a shade, Annie whispered, "I thought you said... What changed your mind."


    Orison replied, "The moment I realized what I wanted the most was the one thing it could do."


    Morale raised enormously the moment they found themselves heading a defined direction. What was even better, there didn''t seem to be that many enemies in their path. With attention somewhat freed up, Orison even helped Annie to understand some of the more detailed features of the sprite models by having his Titania and Oberon play out a love triangle drama involving her Oberon between fights.


    Due to her particular racial quirk, Annie''s lord of air and darkness looked more ''authentic'' to Orison''s mind even if it wasn''t quite as fully fleshed out. There was a quality to its slightly abstract nature that seemed far more true to the spirit of the character it embodied. With the environment that they were in, and drawing inspiration from her expression of the original creator''s vision, Orison felt that his summoning concepts took a small but measurable step forward.


    Orison felt like he was on the verge of a major breakthrough in understanding summoning in a way that his predominately logic driven sub-mind couldn''t help with. Hidden within the art and vice of the dead woman''s models was a kernel of possibility that Annie''s interpretation had shed light on. Before he could explore the thought further, a familiar sight had all of their hearts dropping to their stomachs, ending his epiphany.


    In front of them, where the shade had stopped, was a set of doors all three of them knew led to a transporter that didn''t work. In frustration, Orison was about to dispatch the shade when it moved to the side of the doors after finding itself unable to enter. After floating around the door arch from the base of the floor, it continued up the wall towards the unlit and invisible roof vault.


    For lack of better option, Orison used the alternate protrusions along the door arch as steps and walked up to the top. Feeling around, he discovered a ladder-like set of similar protrusions on the wall made unnoticeable by a trick of light, texture and shape that would only be made worse the brighter light below it became.


    As they made their way up, Stag said in hushed tones, "We spent three hours wading through death and decay when the way out was where we started? The maker of this place must be a woman. Only they could be so cruel."


    Seeing the downward curve of Annie''s mouth, Orison said, "You could also say wise if the idea was to keep infiltrators trapped and unable to make progress... I can''t say who the owner of this construct was but I''m fairly certain that a man at least helped build it, one who cared a lot about leaving a legacy and hope for the future behind. Either way, don''t look a gift ladder in the railings..."


    Around halfway up, Annie almost slipped off the climbing holds. Stag wasn''t climbing with much reserve left either. It had slipped Orison''s mind that even though they both were Chosen of different degrees, they hadn''t had any chances to be strengthened beyond mundane levels. It wasn''t that they had lived lives that were soft by any means. Three hours of non stop moving and fighting had taken its toll and the ladder climbing had finished them off.


    With the narrowness of the hand holds, it would be difficult to safely carry someone and climb and impossible to carry them both. With that thought in mind, Orison took turns swinging them into an empty light fixture space that made for a slightly cramped but serviceable resting spot. Once they were situated sitting beside each other, Orison scrambled in and fit by sitting at the lip with their legs laying on top of his own.


    Orison was irritated that all the fighting had netted him nothing but a little scavenged loot. Locked away from Osomo, there were no rewards to be had and his two temporary teammates received nothing at all, not even the internal strengthening that should come with battling it out against so many creatures. Inspired, however, by observing how the sparks worked and having deconstructed quite a few from the contraband pile before the rest had been confiscated, he moved a bright mote of condensed eternium into each of them.


    Where they outside, the crystallized essence would have been seized by Osomo before it had a chance to deliver any but a small amount of nourishing essence to another person because such an infusion was only safely possible through the spark a person possessed. In here, it could be done but one mote was all their sparks could endure because they weren''t made to hold that much at once to process. Considering how many shades, animated corpses and toothy grubs it took to make one, Orison felt that one mote for each was more than a fair share anyway.


    The infusion would help them recover more quickly and give them a little more stamina but for the moment, fatigue mixed with a jolt of strengthening that was a little too rich meant a small nap. That was fine with the young mage. He doubted what waited for them after they reached the top of the ladder was going to be a day spa.

 98 Crystal Cage 36

    Like someone had flicked the lights back on, Stag and Annie came to less than a handful of seconds apart.


    As their brief confusion settled into clarity, Orison asked, "How do you feel?"


    Stag said, "Leave out the sore spot on my back from falling asleep with a broken bracket digging into it and I haven''t felt this good since my handler gave me a little something to take the edge off before I got sent to a rough customer."


    Annie added, "Just like that but clear. No fuzzy head... I feel a little full. Do you think we could..."


    Orison handed over a relatively intact rusty helmet he''d picked up with pretty much that purpose in mind before looking out into the gloom.


    While the young mage tried to count the imaginary horrors his mind was painting into the distant darkness, Stag said, "Where was that discipline and control earlier before he snatched us up?"


    Annie replied in annoyance, "I sneezed alright!? It''s not like you were being gentle."


    While the two took turns using the helmet, they also took turns making viscous verbal stabs as if they were trying to make hurting each other''s feelings into a game.


    After the third round force share of flaws and inadequacies, Orison had enough disturbing visuals and sympathy shame to stop it. "Oh, the masters love it when the slaves tear each other down. They don''t need to work nearly as hard to make you feel worthless when you''re willing to do it for them... You may be in a sh*t situation but are these the memories you want to have of your first day of freedom, still talking like you belong to somebody and dogging the only other person here that really gets your pain?


    "Oh, you''re angry, Stag? Good! When you leave here, you''ll be a second generation royal with the ability to rain hell on every tormentor you''ve had over the last month. Remember to save some rage for the people who suffered with you, like the girl sitting beside you."


    Amid the sting of chastisement, Annie buried her head between her knees and Stag gave up trying to wrestle his leather shorts back into place one-handed as he handed the helmet to Orison sheepishly. Caught in the middle of framing his next irritated thought, the young mage turned and tossed it out. The tidal wave of dark smoke with dozens or red glowing dots in it almost froze him up.


    In an urgent and demanding tone, Orison said, "Annie, get in Stag''s shadow. Stag, curl up as small as you can. Now, now, now!"


    Slightly timid despite her lack of shyness, Annie sunk into Stag''s shadow as if it was a pool of thin tar. Confused but unwilling to have a falling out with his rescuer quite yet, Stag swallowed the vestiges of his dimming anger and reluctant embarrassment while he tucked his knees to his chest, putting his head between them much as Annie did just moments before. As Orison hugged himself around the confused man, he pulled his aura tight against his skin while leaving it thin around the center of his back.


    With less than a second to spare, the young mage pushed his space as close to the barrier of his physical body as he could, wincing from a few pinprick holes that formed where he pushed too far. As the wave of shades slammed into him, his devouring intent reached out like a trapdoor spider, grabbing and pulling the shades in as quickly as it could. Holding back a scream over what felt like cold acid eating into his back, Orison let out an animal whimpering grunt.


    The wave of shades ended with something a little stronger hitting the already damaged spot. The feeling of corrosion was so intense, it felt like it was eating through his spine. As darkness took him under, Orison wondered which of the wet spots on Stag''s face were his own snot, sweat or tears.


    When he woke up shirtless and sandwiched between Stag and Annie, instead of jumping to weird conclusions, he wiggled a little to let them know he was among the conscious again. As soon as they let go, Orison pulled his turtleneck looking armor back on and donned his robe. Noticing how cold he felt when they let him go, he realized they had been trying to warm him up. Taking in so many shades at once had brought his core temperature to low levels and he didn''t doubt there was a nasty black bruise spread across his back that healing would take some time to make go away.


    Orison said, "How long was I out?"


    As Stag stammered in an emotion thickened voice, Annie declared softly, "Not long. It''s hard to tell in here but I''d guess around a quarter hour."


    Nodding, the young mage added, "I think we''ve made enough awkward memories here... Since I''m not sure if those shades came from above or below, I''ll wager on what seems like the most probable and start climbing first. Annie, you take the middle but get into my shadow if anymore of those things are spotted. Stag, make sure to glance below and behind you once and awhile but don''t let the dark play tricks with your head. If shades are coming, you''ll see their red eyes clear enough not to mistake it for your brain trying to put things out there."


    Fortunately, the rest of the climb was event free. The silence during it was so loud that Orison almost missed Stag and Annie''s bickering. Whatever Stag was dealing with, Orison hoped he hadn''t triggered some kind of weird flag he''d have to break. The young mage briefly wondered if he had ill starred fate with the Nunos family for all the painful and humiliating situations he found himself in whenever he tangled with them.


    Sliding their way out of a wide chute, Orison felt like he was back inside the recycling center of Construct Three but instead of just machine-like golems, there were serviceable preserved body parts from a variety of people and creatures as well. To test his theory, he made his way to the front edge and realized that the reason why the area they came from was so big was because it must have ran the entirety of the construct''s underbelly. Much like Construct Three, the wide pit before the recycling center was only large enough to fit the testing rooms in front.


    Not to say it was an exact copy either. There were quite a few features of this construct that fit into a different mode of thinking entirely. The portions of Construct Three were around seventy percent artificer know-how with a blend of other things. This was more like forty percent artificer, a quarter apiece summoner and necromancer with just a touch of other mixed elements.


    Being on the far end of the testing site with no AI bossing him around, Orison showed Annie and Stag how to collect battery cells and promised to return shortly. Due to making some assumptions about similarity of layout, the young mage wasted over an hour getting lost in the maze of the construct''s guts, occasionally having to deal with a loose shade or two, before he found what he was looking for. Sadly, the potion of the central unit he understood wasn''t in decent shape and the two other ''cores'' were of designs he didn''t understand. The one that was once a brain but had turned into sediment inside a cloudy tank, he didn''t want to understand.


    Not really getting it but needing to do something, Orison attempted to push a mote of condensed eternium into the dull gray stone that had models etched on it. Their vague similarity to summoner models made him hopeful that he might be able to interact with it at least. The much smaller amount of connections it had with the construct made him hopeful that if he was wrong, there at least wouldn''t be as many repercussions.


    The shadowy outline of a sprite vaguely resembling a vague similarity to his Titania model came into view. "Greetings stranger. Are you a looter, a hopeful for the legacy or some other form of visitor?"


    Orison took a moment to figure out the best thing to say to that but when he started talking, the translucent sprite cut him off. "Is that a newer rendition of me? It certainly is pretty to look at but it''s strayed far away from the best parts. Mistress had such high hopes for her niece. Losing both of the men she loved in the same day made her quite mad from what I hear."


    The young mage said, "I''m interested to hear more about that but there''s matters of greater importance to get through first. Do you kn-"


    The sprite interrupted, "Let me save you some time and effort. The person you are most strongly connected to spiritually has already left the construct... That would be the green haired one that isn''t in the recycling room. The blond haired man is talking to a person named Gran, his grandmother. I''ve released him from the enchanter''s trap meant to test people''s spiritual strength...


    "Since the walls have memory of your name, I have informed him of your safety... He wants me to tell you something... Oh, he disappeared in the strangely powerful transporter light too. Have the people of Osomo figured out how to pierce our warding? No, if so, this place would have been dismantled by now."


    Beside himself, Orison said, "Focus for me! What did he want you to tell me?"


    Snorting in mild offense, the sprite said, "Sorry, but it looks like I''ll have to scout ahead a bit first. I''m glad you''re... Nothing follows. If you wanted dry, colorless conversation, you should have powered up Artie instead."


    Orison said, "The AI? I would have if I could. The circuitry is completely fried."


    Nodding sagely, the sprite said, "Yes, that probably happened when my mistress committed suicide a couple hundred years ago. When she felt the connection with Construct Three break, she must have felt she won the bet and didn''t have anything holding her here anymore."


    Relieved and starting to lose a great deal of interest in the construct, Orison asked, "Is there anyone else that came with the green and blond haired men?"


    The sprite nodded and then giggled. "The red haired woman is ripping a corpse puppet to pieces in the secondary testing chamber. It''s no wonder. With no guidance or assistance, she put the thing together stitch by stitch for hours and not a single word answered her. She''s just lucky she hasn''t found the... she put her hand on the cell charger."


    Orison said, "Tell her to stop!"


    The sprite sighed, "It wouldn''t do any good. It won''t let her go until it takes half of what she''s got. Uh-oh, The current controller knows there''s people here now. It''ll be sending things after you guys."


    Thinking quickly, the young mage said, "Is there a separate set of apartments in this construct like in Construct Three that has a outside leading transporter?"


    The sprite bounced in the air excitedly. "Yes! Are you going to get your other people first or do you want me to lead you there right now?"


    Orison answered by running towards the recycling room.


    Appearing in front of him, the sprite said, "Take my anchor with you, dummy! How am I supposed to help you if I''m stuck in here!?"


    Grimacing, the young mage doubled back and grabbed the floating stone. With the chatty sprite along to give directions, Orison made it back to the recycling room in under ten minutes. Without slowing much, he barked at them to grab up what they''d found and follow.


    Once they reached a section of the wall that looked no different from the rest, the sprite phased through it and a moment later the wall slid open. Orison grabbed up the unconscious Rose and booked it back the way that they came making a slight detour to the side where the sprite opened yet another wall entrance. Before they could go further, Orison hit his first snag. A portion of the Catwalk had fallen into the pit, leaving a wide gap.


    Orison looked to the sprite. "I can get the hover platform here but I''m going to need more power afterwards. Twice as much if you want me to use it to get us all the way to the elevator."


    Orison nodded, sinking three shining motes into the stone. He hesitated before sinking one into Rose as well. From his viewpoint it looked like she had abandoned Ivan and Gan to their fates but he didn''t know the whole story and there was a lot of different ways to interpret her actions that weren''t as bad.


    Several cold sweat inducing minutes later, a floating triangle wobbled unsteadily over to them. Coming out of the wall, the sprite looked like it was on the verge of disintegrating until it touched it''s anchor stone. As the sprite brightened back up to colorful hologram status once more, the platform leveled off.


    Annie asked, "Who''s the redhead?"


    Catching a faint hint of rivalry in the air that made him a little happy in spite of himself, Orison said, "Her name''s Rose. She can be a little rough around the edges so don''t try to rile her up. Oh, and I would suggest not flirting with her, Stag."


    Stag smiled knowingly, "I haven''t met many Dracanos but they all seem a little rough around the edges... Don''t worry, I won''t try to squeeze in on your interests."


    Orison snorted, "Interests? I don''t think so. She''s a psycho. I just don''t want her trying to murder you while no one''s looking."


    Stag''s smile froze on his face as he looked at the unconscious woman dubiously. Annie brightened up considerably from the crestfallen state she was working her way towards.


    The sprite chirped at Annie, "What first did he get taken?"


    Looking at the three inch tall see-through fairy in a little confusion, Annie said, "Which ''he'' and from what?"


    The sprite said, "You told the green haired man behind you that you bet he was surprised to be losing a first to someone at his age after where he had been. Since he told you to have a care of your own affairs and not mind his, you never said what it was that was taken."


    Annie didn''t really want to answer and Stag''s red face spoke volumes about what he thought but no one wanted to see what would happen if the thing currently keeping them from plunging to certain death would do if its curiosity wasn''t satisfied. Fairly certain what was being referred to but afraid of being wrong and missing something important, Orison didn''t speak up either. Not to mention, he wasn''t sure what would happen if the sprite wasn''t humored.


    Stammering a little at first, she shot an apologetic look to Stag and said, "Earlier today, Orison protected Stag from being hurt while getting hurt himself. That''s an experience that only the lover or child of a brave man might ever know. I was only trying to ease Stag''s troubled thoughts about it by teasing him a little."


    The sprite pondered out loud, "So that is the source of this feeling that gives rise to both pain and tend-"


    Orison cut in, "Is your name Titania, like the model?"


    While she gave an affirmative and Orison showed the sprite his Oberon model as a lead to ask other questions, the young mage caught a glimpse of gratitude on Stag''s face.


    As they finished their journey to the elevator, Titania Prime finished explaining the situation in Construct One. A few years after the brain in the tank, her mistress, committed suicide, some of the undead slipped past the security features of the construct. One such managed to accidentally activate the inheritance by gliding through its containment. The creature in question wasn''t overly intelligent but it was cunning enough to exercise what little understanding it had to turn the construct from a testing site for the inheritance into a kind of funneling trap to feed itself.


    Once they stepped off the platform, Titania Prime let it drop. With a loud crash that shuddered the railway they were on, the triangular platform had likely been reduced to scrap. Orison was about to ask the sprite why it had decided to make that decision when a series of chittering and screeches began getting progressively louder in their direction. Wasting no time, the three plus one unconscious person made their way into the elevator room that was up and on its way once the sprite ''possessed'' it.


    Creaking and shuddering its adrenaline inducing route up, the young mage contemplated how much worse this experience was to the first one. If asked, the lady brain in the jar had called it quits too soon. The artificer''s sister may have been right about there not ever being a suitable inheritor capable of taking up their mantle. Osomo passively and sometimes even actively worked against the inhabitants breaking free of its grip but once Construct Three finished repairing itself, the ones it trained might lead to hope. In comparison, she had given in to despair and left no hope at all, really.


    To be fair, her brother hadn''t left his soul and mind behind to weather the centuries either. Until she had given up, her construct had been able to adjust to changes and adapt, making it far more possible for someone to inherit an intact legacy. The artificer''s legacy was hardly even worth pursuing anymore, in Orison''s mind, until he thought of Alta. Perhaps piecing the artificer''s legacy back together would make it far more valuable than being handed one wholesale. Osomo itself was a prime example of how ridiculous it was to expect people to excel when all they needed was given with little personal effort.


    After a jarring stop, amid the sound of bending metal, Titania Prime said, "You need to get out of here or you''re going to fall. I''m certain that will kill you."

 99 Crystal Cage 37

    "Don''t move a muscle! We might need to get off the elevator but if everyone starts running around and panicking, it''s going to fall before we can," Orison said as he glared at the sprite.


    Moving with smooth, steady steps to the far wall, Orison sent two pulses of mending through it after asking the sprite where the elevator was joined to the track. A quick peek by the sprite let him know that his mend couldn''t penetrate far enough nor was it strong enough to get the job done even if he could. If he couldn''t mend it, he would cut it instead.


    Conjuring two simplified drones, Orison went to work opening a hole at the top of the elevator as close to the track as he dared. Seeing what he was up to, Annie tried to coordinate but she didn''t have the pure drone model and her Titania''s fire and lightning production, either one, wasn''t really suited for cutting. There were a few more groans of metal along the way and other than getting the two to slink with him as close to the track side of the elevator as possible to alleviate fulcrum additions to the weight problem was the only thing that Orison could think of to buy a little time.


    As if things weren''t bad enough, the young mage had caught a glimpse of activity towards the edges of his spirit sight range. Rose was showing signs of awakening as well but only time would tell if that was a good or bad thing. All things considered, the one with the worst frayed nerves may have been Orison because he was all too aware of how bad the situation was becoming.


    "You know that if it had only been one or two people, the elevator probably would have made it." the sprite said wistfully.


    Scowling, Orison replied, "You know skipping safety features to make something prettier is batsh*t crazy, right? You know that having one vertical and one horizontal elevator would have been more practical and energy efficient than one capable of moving any direction when it only has three destinations?"


    As the sprite unleashed verbal fury on him for insulting her mistress'' vision, Orison actually felt calmer for some reason. Not only that but it brought a little comic relief to the other two nervous people with him. What he didn''t expect is that the sprite would help him understand summoning better in the process.


    While Annie tended to Rose and Stag helped Orison control the lowering of the roof section being cut off, the sprite added into her tirade, "That''s why you''re summoning will never be worth anything. You think of them the same way an artificer does their toys. If you can''t understand why spirit essence is used for the art, you don''t even deserve to be called an idiot. Stick with your hollow puppets that you can control every little detail of. You don''t have the vision of a summoner!"


    Although he didn''t stop what he was doing, that elusive thought Annie had inspired earlier had returned. All the complex expression in the fairy models wasn''t for sport and play as the dead woman had made it seem in the portable trainer, it was a base personality and intelligence model so a one second old existence wouldn''t act like a newborn! Over time, if they remained existing, they would slowly grow more complex and capable of more intricate independent action. They could even grow stronger and more knowledgeable, capable of sharing their experiences with others!


    In a way, the sprite was right. That it had never occurred to him what the spirit essence portion of the summoner model was needed for did kind of make him an idiot. There was a simplicity and dependability in controlling every action of one''s creation but potential helpfulness and potential willfulness were opposing sliding scales on a dual track called independence. Adaptability and obedience were on another called awareness. The more independent and self aware an existence was, the more potential it had but also greater amounts of personal desire and reluctance to deny them.


    Anymore thought on the subject was placed on hold because the elevator dipped some more and gradually continued the trend. It took a good portion of his magic reserves to do so but Orison managed to gather up bits of scrap and create a barely over one foot tall golem comprised of rusty metal. As he had it scramble out of the hole and grip the remaining coupling that held the elevator to the track, he and Stag gripped the sagging portion of cut roof to widen the hole a little more.


    The young mage said, "Alright, be calm and steady but I need you to grab Rose and pull her out of the hole and secure the two of yourselves to the track, Stag. If for any reason we begin to fall while you''re doing that, don''t stop. Do what you need to do... Annie, if the elevator detaches before we get out of it, I need you to get in my shadow. I still have a good chance of getting us to the track but you might have to act quickly to secure us afterwards."


    The sprite said nervously, "Then hand me to Iliyani. I don''t want my anchor breaking if you drop me."


    Orison thought to himself, "If I didn''t possibly still need you, my space would be eating your anchor, rabble rouser! Thank yourself for being nice and helpful in the beginning. As long as you don''t cause any big problems, I might feel too bad ending your existence just to gain a little easy concept boost."


    By whatever method the sprite had, it could sense the dangerous levels of irritation it had produced in Orison and had become sullen. To keep things from reaching a cold war status with a potentially life-saving ally, Orison compromised by giving in to the sprite over her carrier and handed the anchor stone to Annie. While the elf woman searched for the best place on herself to keep the anchor from possible misfortune, the young mage helped Stag by boosting Rose''s weakly protesting form out of the hole towards the Nunos man already outside.


    Once Stag had Rose precariously balanced between two track ridge bars above his head, he made to pull himself up. To everyone''s dismay, the lower ridge bar he grabbed broke off under his weight. His sudden jarring false start caused the golem''s body to groan in protest as one of its arms stretched, a sign that magic was losing its battle with physics.


    Fearing a repeat on the bar that Rose''s weight already rested on, Stag grabbed the main rail instead, climbing a few feet with nothing but his hands over the gaping maw of space below him. Maneuver complete, he pulled Rose up so that Orison and Annie could get off the top of the death box barely being supported by a little golem and almost non-existent remaining strength in the coupling snagged on a bit of ruptured track.


    Their turn, Orison lifted Annie up to grab a higher, less damaged bar. Letting her use his raised hand as a step to keep from having to repeat the free-hand climb Stag had done, she didn''t end up as adrenaline shaky as Stag looked. Turning around to offer Orison a hand, she got a flash of his silvery belt buckle as he repeated Stag''s maneuver with a great deal more speed and confidence.


    After getting to the connector that lead up to their destination, they took a break to catch their breath and let Rose finish rousing herself. Stag turned to give Orison a slightly judgmental look over the young mage''s slightly showy grandstanding, hiding some jealousy that the sprite was quick to point out. Sighing, Orison explained that Stag would be capable of doing such things after a few active months of creature hunting and cautioned the Nunos man not to let the ''little emotional bully'' get anymore free entertainment by letting her reveals get under their skin.


    Looking affronted, the sprite said, "I''m only helping you get to know each other better. There''s no need to make me look like I''m bad for doing it."


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "I don''t need supernatural senses to smell bullsh*t. A life and death situation isn''t the time to be stirring up drama for your amusement. I may not be able to read emotions from someone''s aura or whatever it is you''re doing but I''m not clueless on what motivates people to do what they do."


    In a past life, the young mage had known a handful of otherwise good people who couldn''t seem to help themselves from poking at people''s sore spots or stirring up drama from time to time, as if they thrived off chaos. He was capable of seeing through it and didn''t take it that personal since the sprite didn''t try to outright lie about it. That she was useful and generally inclined to be helpful, weighed heavily into Orison''s decision to overlook her grating personality quirk.


    Cognizant and thirsty, Orison filled Rose in on their current situation as she polished off a canteen and a handful of jerky. Seeing that he was going to be ignored once he started trying to ask questions, he grew angry. When Rose struck up a conversation with the sprite over questions about the construct, intent on ignoring Orison''s repeat request on the events leading up to reuniting, he''d reached the end of his patience.


    White faced with repressed rage, Orison said. "I''m going to give you two options, Rose. Answer my questions or I''m going to throw you off the railing."


    Flipping from neutral to malevolent in half a second, she lunged at the young mage only to find herself suspended in midair for a moment before plunging to her screaming death. Stag and Annie looked at him in horrified confusion. After all the extra effort to get her to where they were and even taking time to let her recover, they had difficulty grasping how he could just let her fall without even trying to stop it from happening. They would have been even more horrified if they knew that Orison had used telekinetic force to trip and push her for fear of what Rose could do if she got her hands on him.


    The young mage could tell that Rose''s fate had unsettled them and put a wedge of guarded fear up against him. "I figured that she had abandoned my friends but I gave her an opportunity to explain. She had to have known what we went through to get her here safely but instead of giving up some gratitude she showed her a**. Maybe she only meant to put me in my place and not actually hurt me but I could care less. She was skilled enough to threaten me and she already gave me reason to suspect her actions. I wasn''t willing to extend anymore trust.


    "The only regret I have is the moment I need to explain her death to someone who I actually like. The irony that strikes me the hardest is if I hadn''t tried to help her recover faster by nourishing her faded spirit, this situation wouldn''t have happened. Believe me when I say, if it was more certain and less possibility that she actually meant me harm, just letting her die was the kind option."


    The sprite said, "She would have answered you eventually. She was only more interested in this place. I don''t know what she was going to do but it didn''t feel like she was going to do anything really bad."


    Snatching the sprite''s anchor stone from Annie''s shorts, Orison held a dagger to it. "You''ve been really helpful but you''ve done something to annoy me. I don''t plan on erasing you from existence, just hurt you a little."


    Stopping right as the tip of his dagger touched the stone, Orison looked at the scared and sobbing sprite before sheathing his dagger and handing the stone back to a slightly trembling Annie.


    Apologizing to the elf, Orison addressed the sprite, "Rose has bested me in physical combat many times. What your feelings tell you don''t seem all that reliable when you''re the one facing the threat, do they? Tell me, if you could have let me fall off the railing up here rather than face that threat, what would you have done?...


    "All that said, I''m not a raving lunatic and know how to return goodwill. Sure, you''ve gotten on my nerves with you''re baiting but you also helped us when you didn''t have to. Thank you... I''d appreciate it if you stopped baring people''s feelings when it serves no meaningful purpose."


    Giggling nervously, the sprite agreed as Orison spurred his charges into climbing again. Titania Prime might have been able to put it all behind her with relative ease but it wasn''t the same for Annie. The death of Rose had pulled up some of the temporarily buried fear in her heart and she would flinch or tremble with every casual contact or glance from Orison. She was no stranger to abusive men and the young mage''s callousness put him in that category to her subconscious regardless of what logic had to say on the matter. Though it saddened him to see her reacting like that, it wasn''t something more words would help.


    Dark and gloomy thoughts were put on hold once a section of rounded space in the wall came into sight. With energy picking up, they were shortening the distance nearly twice as fast as they had before they saw it. Despite their goal being nearly in reach, Orison had a sudden sense of foreboding.


    Looking down, the sprite said, "Uh-oh."


    Swinging to the side to let Annie and Stag past him, the young mage said, "Don''t stop."


    Taking the rear, Orison could see a wave of shadowy darkness approaching from below. It was filled with glowing red dots and some of them were quite a bit more vivid than the others. One particular set towards the center had a slightly violet glow to them. And upon seeing them, Orison''s sense of dread had found it''s source.


    "Hey, Titania. Will the sliding wall panel up there stop the controller from entering?" Orison asked, pretty much already sure of the answer.


    The sprite answered from above, "Not for very long. It''ll eventually figure out how to open it."


    Orison inwardly cursed for having Gan carry the bulk of the secondary measures they had picked up for dealing with undead. That being the case, he still had two large capsules of silver powder and the silver bead net that had made it into his care package from his runaway conduit. Wasting no time, Orison sprinkled the first capsule out, letting letting its fall disburse it as he blew the contents of the second out in an arc.


    The approaching wave of death broke against a cloud of sparkling motes. Under normal situations, Orison would have laughed at the reactions of some individual shades that looked not much different than would be expected when hit with a surprise glitter bomb. The accompanying unearthly shrieks, however, were not.


    With momentum lost and remnant impedance in the air, Orison turned and shouted, "Annie, get in Stag''s shadow! Stag, let go of the rails."


    It must have taken every ounce of courage and trust for the Nunos man but he did it. Releasing some of the stored essence in his body, Orison firmly placed his hand on the seat of Stag''s leather shorts and shoved for all he was supernaturally worth, kicking some telekinetic push in with it. Just shy of his goal, Orison watched Stag scramble at the lip of the circular hole, looking like the man was going to slip for one heart stopping second before fear fed adrenaline finished its job.


    Climbing in small hops, Orison half turned and released a wave of glamour, wanting the violet eyed leader of the shadowy creatures to go away. It all but ignored the impulse to turn and leave but a good deal many of its surrounding companions did. Sufficiently dispersed, the wave reduced to a formation of three soldiers flanking their shadowy lord.


    With only two feet left until he could reach Stag''s outstretched hand, the leader''s first ''soldier'' caught up to him and looked ready to pass him entirely to aim for Stag. Giving it his all, Orison stabbed the elder class guardian spirit with devouring intent, dispersing it to harmless mist almost instantly but adding heavy fatigue to the young mage''s mind. After being forced to repeat the move twice more, following the last use with a little egg beating motion of his silver powder covered hand to finish the job, the young mage was dizzy and barely conscious.


    Emboldened by Orison''s display of weakness, the violet eyed leader finally took its turn to approach. In desperation, the young mage tossed out the silver net. That slowed the leader down as it sank in and stuck on something rather than passing through. Both Stag and Orison''s triumph over clasping hands was short lived, however. In what seemed slow motion to both of them, the leader''s strangely solid arm grabbed Orison by the leg and yanked.


    To the young mage''s senses as he fell, the shouts of his newest companions were right beside him yet far away. Such were his passing thoughts while the ancestor level grudge ate away at the integrity of his mind and siphoned off his aura envelope. All the while, he tried all he could to pull the offending creature into his space, to shred and devour it in turn.


    In a bizarre display of yin and yang, between the living and undead, they wrapped and grappled each other with the ultimate victor all but determined. The rapid approach of an elevator dangling over the void like an over ripe fruit on a fragile branch didn''t seem to add anything to the equation but a nearer death than the distant pit below. Determined to take the monster with him, Orison let it get the upper hand, switching to falling face up as the thing clung to his back. His thoughts ended in a sudden blast of dimly colored patterns against a background of eternal darkness.

 100 Crystal Cage 38

    Orison didn''t so much come to as switch back on. A meager selection of empty vials and an oval of clean space around him was the only evidence that his sub-mind had taken charge of the situation for a bit out of necessity. The collection of fractures and damaged organs being healed by the vestiges of potion and the ceaseless work of his two fairy summons was proof that not much time had passed.


    Turning spirit sight inward, the young mage noted that the damage to his mind had been quite severe but overall he was very much still intact. The drain to his soul''s core essence hadn''t breached his aura layer and a good deal of the reason for that was because there had simply not been enough time for the offending grudge to do much more. With burning curiosity, Gingerly shifted himself to try and uncover the reasons for his miraculous if somewhat painful survival.


    It didn''t take long for him to realize that he was laying in the smashed remains of Rose. Were it not for his sub-mind, however, he would have pretty much been a vegetable as the back of his head had partially caved in. What confused him the most was how the elevator hadn''t detached and fallen. The answer there ended up being the least miraculous thing about his survival.


    Aside from a few popped rivets, the other, more difficult to see coupling had stayed in its track and had merely slid down some more before jamming in a previously less damaged and more stable portion. It wasn''t exactly safe by any means but they hadn''t been nearly as in danger of plummeting to their death as the sprite had made it seem. As angry as he wanted to get, there wasn''t actually anything wrong or even particularly bad about Titania Prime''s urging them to evacuate the elevator so he just let it go.


    After having had the chance to reevaluate circumstances, Orison decided to have a drone collect as much of Rose as he could. Once her remains had been brought out of the construct, it would serve as a beacon for Osomo to respawn her. Even if it had been by chance, Rose had saved his life in a manner of speaking and his choice to end her was only a desperation choice in the moment.


    By that point, Orison considered severe soul fading as punishment enough and he could always just give her a wide birth in the future if she couldn''t forgive and forget what essentially had been her own fault to begin with. Its not as if he planned on being around for much longer anyway. In his mind, bringing Emily''s psycho friend back for respawn was the lesser of two hard choices.


    While the young mage was recuperating, his companions hadn''t been idle. Once Titania Prime had confirmed that Orison was alive, Stag and Annie had been deconstructing the apartments they found themselves in for materials to create something sturdy enough to reach him with. Their answer had been a rope ladder created with children and men''s clothes that the original owner had saved as mementos.


    Construct One''s secondary apartments had been turned into a storage facility of many such types of mementos. In particular, it was filled with many arts and crafts. That didn''t mean there weren''t things of value in the apartments, they just weren''t of any interest to Orison. To his way of thinking, there wasn''t much need to amass things that would only be dusted by a boundary crossing.


    After surviving such a horrid ordeal, however, Orison wasn''t willing to just walk away without trying to delve a little for something worth salvaging. "I know that the thing I smashed had already claimed the main legacy but is there no notes or journals that could have had some of that information in it?"


    The sprite looked at Orison blankly for a moment and then said, "Between my mistress preserving her brain and the phylactery she made to be her inheritance, she never saw a reason for more. I don''t want to upset you but it was a shame that you had to destroy the phylactery to get rid of the controller. Had it been a little smarter it would have hid it instead of carrying it around. Then again, if it had survived for another century or so it might have been able to become something other than what it was. It had already fused with the phylactery quite a bit.


    "If you''re willing to give my anchor a couple more charges like the ones you gave me before, I could go search through the main suite. I''m not promising anything but there could be something there. At the very least, your friends can take back more valuables. She didn''t keep much in her personal rooms but there were the last few things she valued personally before she discarded her body."


    Sighing, Orison shelled out the extortion. No sooner done with that, he cleaned the bed with presto and gingerly crawled into it. When he was jostled out of trance sometime later by two sudden additions, since no one was pushing boundaries and it was rather chilly for his less augmented companions, he brought out his blanket and let it be. He even convinced himself that the extra half hour he spent relaxing after he came out of trance was entirely due to letting his sprites finish healing him and had nothing to do with Annie''s pleasant clinginess.


    Once he felt confident enough to get out of bed without hobbling around like an old man, Orison gingerly removed himself from the elf girl''s arms without shoulder or elbow checking Stag''s back. While he was digging through the pile of randomness the sprite had tricked flesh golems into delivering, the young mage sensed Stag watching him. When the translucent sprite and even the sleeping Annie''s Oberon joined in, he wondered if there was a reason outside of nothing better in the room to look at.


    In low tones so as to not disrupt the elf girl''s rest, Orison asked, "Do any of you have something you''d like to say or am I just that fascinating?"


    The sprite was about to speak when she caught herself and looked towards the Nunos man. Sucking in a deep breath, and mustering up some courage, Stag sat across from Orison on the floor helping him sift through the pile. With all the build up, the young mage was starting to get a bit nervous as to how serious it would be to require the man to need so much dithering before he was ready to say it.


    Once a few minutes of silence had past, the sprite was about to break the ice when Stag said, "Annie''s problems and especially my own are just beginning. When we leave here, she might be able to deal on her own but I''ll be dead within the week if left to fend for myself... After all that you''ve done to help us, it''s..."


    Orison sighed and said, "I didn''t intend on cutting you lose as soon as we left the construct. Since Annie wants to get the healer training, I was going to take her to Daub and get Mo to have some of his people escort her and run her around a bit. I wasn''t exactly sure what you wanted so I was going to ask what your plans were."


    Stag confessed, "I don''t have any. When you pulled me out of confinement, I was drugged and thought I was hallucinating. If it hadn''t been for Iliyani''s goading, I would have ignored your invitation. I don''t know if you realize how bad I''m alive is for my family yet.


    "I was already supposed to be dead. They don''t know that I knew but it was obvious. If it wasn''t for the guild wanting to have a couple of secret assets, I would be. They don''t breed males until its almost time to get rid of them and the Nunos girl that started visiting me since about a month ago, stopped coming last week."


    Orison stopped sifting to think. "If you need time and safety to figure your life out, I suppose that sending you to Emris in Snow Cap might be the bet-"


    Stag interrupted. "You''re not from this world, are you?" Seeing Orison go silent he added, "Forget it..."


    Seeing that Stag had used up whatever resolve he''d gathered, the young mage almost let the silence stand. Ultimately, he let curiosity and a small amount of compassion compel him to encourage Stag instead of letting the man shut himself down. Orison didn''t quite admit to being an outsider but he didn''t deny it either. Instead, he prompted the Nunos man to finish saying whatever the original request was.


    Stag said, "I know my pitiful life probably isn''t worth much but if you could help me become what you are, even if it''s just a chance, even if it''s dangerous, I''ll do whatever you want. I''ll swear whatever oath and serve however you wish... You have something that no one I''ve ever seen before has and whatever that is, it feels worth giving everything else up for."


    Orison rolled the whole thing around in his head. Seeing the young mage wavering between acceptance and a kind but firm denial, Stag got on hands and knees and bent to kiss Orison''s foot. The young mage could sense that something fragile but important would break inside the wild fey blooded man if the action was finished. Drawing his feet away, he saw Stag had no intentions of stopping and would just kiss the floor instead.


    The young mage realized he was either going to have to accept Stag or the man was going to emotionally and spiritually cripple himself in front of Orison. It wasn''t that Stag didn''t have pride or that the Nunos man was suicidal. It was quite the opposite. He was just that desperate.


    It wasn''t that Orison didn''t want to accept the determined guy. It was that he only knew of one way that he could without making further delaying sacrifices. That way was one that required trust and more than a comfortable amount of closeness. To offer that to a two day long companion was a lot to ask for but the guilt of realizing he would have actively offered it to Annie if she could have taken it was barely enough to tip things in Stag''s favor.


    Quickly reaching out to stop Stag, Orison explained, "First off, to get what you want, there are certain things you can''t give away. Will almost represents potential directly in ''what I have'' so submitting it in exchange for a ''key'' wouldn''t be a good trade. Let''s just stick with a student/teacher kind of thing, alright? I''m not that knowledgeable myself but I can get you to the starting line at least.


    Orison spent a few minutes explaining what ''keys'' and ''climbing the tower'' meant and the general knowledge that Lily had given to him at the start. "The thing is, I don''t have any way to give you a key without hurting myself but I have a way for you to earn your own."


    It was a fairly involved conversation but the gist was asking Stag to remove Ivan''s mark after vaguely explaining how it got there and what it would involve to remove it. With compatibility of spiritual bloodline and the natural instinct that the Nunos family had of erasing a competitor''s traces, Orison was confident that Stag could get the job done. Once claimed, Stag should be able to get some decent gains of concept from the mark as well.


    If all went as planned, after Stag had removed Ivan''s mark, he''d leave enough of his own soul mark behind in Orison''s spiritual seat that the young mage could use it to yank Stag up after ascending out of Osomo. Since the mark wouldn''t be imprinted on the young mage''s soul, he could then return it to Stag after he had studied it some.


    After taking a moment to discretely request Titania Prime to interrupt the process if Stag lost control and started doing things Orison didn''t want to happen, he was ready. Since the young mage would be occupied repressing his space and intent from hurting Stag, taking whatever safe peeks he could at the concepts within Stag''s spiritual bloodline, he''d be fully present on the inner side and have very little focus to spare on the physical side.


    Sitting on and leaning back into a discard pile of clothes against a wall, Stag noticed Orison''s hesitation. "Hey, you clung on to me to protect me from those ghosts and I clung on to you to help warm you back up. We knew what it was about then and we know what it''s about now. I don''t know what''s worrying you but I''m scared about how you''re going to look at me after seeing whatever it is you can see in there."


    Shaking himself loose, earning a small chuckle from Stag, Orison stopped hesitating and took his position. Once they''d slipped to the spiritual side of things it became obvious that most of his worries had been over nothing. In his own way, Stag was even more nervous than Orison and any stray thoughts towards things that would have made Orison recall the unpleasant results of his experience with Ivan were simply not present. For Stag, it was a desperate gamble for survival and for the young mage, it was a mutually beneficial exchange. That was it.


    Everything played out exactly how Orison wanted it to and there was zero overshare. All said and done, it was like a visit to a dentist from his perspective. There was lots of dread, a little unpleasantness but ultimately it left him with a sense of accomplishment.


    An indeterminate amount of time later, Orison came too looking down at a silky white head of hair framed by ebony pointed ears. Annie was sitting between his legs and leaning into him the same way as he was to Stag.


    After giving in to an impulse to kiss the top of Annie''s head, Orison said, "Feeling left out?"


    Sounding slightly disgruntled, she replied, "I''d have to know what you were doing to feel left out."


    Orison sighed and said, "Stag was helping me remove a mark on my soul I didn''t want. A stubborn person elsewhere was subconsciously fighting against it so I needed a little help."


    Stag said, "It''s not really that surprising. I could feel what he felt when he marked you. It was... hungry and there was a small desire to lay claim that always floats in the back of a buck''s mind, I guess... I''m glad you didn''t because I think it would have stung a little but I''m surprised you didn''t jump up and put distance between us as soon as you came back to yourself."


    Orison shrugged, "Half of it''s because I wasn''t in any hurry to make Annie jump up and put distance between us. The other half is because it kinda makes me think of a distant memory of when I was just a kid at summer camp, riding with some other kids and a few friends in the back of a flat bed on our way to the river. I feel weirdly mellow and peaceful right now. Come to think of it, I was a little like that when I woke up earlier to, though it wasn''t as strong."


    The sprite commented helpfully, "That would be the high concentration of negative energy in the construct slowly sapping away your body''s vitality. Don''t worry. It actually takes a lot to become dangerous. You''ve got a whole other day before you''d even start getting lazy, much less reach the point of laying down and giving up."


    Orison said, "Now, hearing that makes me want to jump up and put some distance... between us and this place."


    As they helped Orison sort through the pile, delighting in his lack of interest while they pocketed the 98% he didn''t care about, Annie asked, "Why do you only want those odds and ends and none of this other stuff?"


    Orison said, "Because ''all that stuff'' is more useful to you. Speaking of which... Stag, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but other than what it can do for you in the here and now til we leave, carting all that is only going to be a waste of time. Boundary crossings will take it all away.


    "The only things that will survive boundary crossings are boundary items and those were the first things I took. Don''t worry about it, though. I''m not stingy and I''ll make sure you get a couple of needful bits before then. I''ve got a crap ton of these tokens I''m sure can get me something serviceable for you."


    Looking at Orison in confusion, Annie said, "What are you talking about?"


    Orison replied, "Are you willing to give up everything in this world and follow me?"


    Getting red faced and flustered, Annie said, "I... You could live with me and my family would be happy to have you. There''s no need to run away."


    Orison looked at her sadly. "I don''t have much choice, Annie. I have friends who might need me and a family far away I''d desperately love to see again... If you wanted to come with me, I''d try to find a way but I''ll understand if you can''t."


    A single tear slid down her face before she wiped it away and said in false cheer, "Well, then I better not get too attached. It was quite the adventure. I don''t think I''ll ever forget it."


    Covering up a bit of his own melancholy, Orison said, "Don''t be too quick to take off. There''s still quite a bit of loot for you to pack away. Providing for that sprite is going to strain you purse if you''re not careful."


    In a huff, the sprite said, "So you have the heart to let her take something along of actual value after all. And for your information, I''m not that needy. You just put me to work doing things that require a lot of energy."


    Orison rolled his eyes, "As if I had a choice. Besides, out of the three of us, she''s probably the only one with the patience to deal with you in the long term. That aside, I do have one question for you."

 101 Crystal Cage 39

    "Just one? That only shows how little you recognize my worth," the sprite huffed before giving Orison an impatient look.


    Orison said, "I''ve already internalized my summoning models. How do I maintain them so that they can grow?"


    Titania Prime looked at Orison, dumbfounded. "Why don''t you ask a farmer how he plants a field after he harvests it? If you want a seed to grow, you find some soil. Just in case you''re not that bright, I meant that as a metaphor."


    Orison smiled and said, "It wouldn''t matter. I have something that fits that description both metaphorically and literally. In fact, I may have not realized the actual nature of what I had until you said it so bluntly."


    Orison turned his sight inward towards the bath barrel sized chunk of five colored soil with the sparsely spread spirit grass going about their slow and stately growth. Hovering over it was the mustard seed bracelet like a little home-craft halo giving away the presence of a kind but shy angel. Orison amended that image to a benevolent Buddha after the bracelet literally bent out of shape and produced a faint scent of incense.


    To give his theory a try, Orison constructed the model for Titania and attempted to have her manifest from the essence of the soil instead of the essence in his space or filtered from his own reserves through his space. He already knew what happened when the sub-mind tried to use the power invested in his space to fuel any kind of model. As soon as it entered the world, it might as well have been passing a reality boundary for all the chance it had of surviving. As it so happened, Titania not only survived, she looked stronger from the very start.


    The sprite looked over his Titania and scoffed. "You''re still choking her potential to death but at least she''s ''alive''. You''re not as completely hopeless as I thought. Not by much, though."


    Orison said dryly, "Gee, I think you''re swell too."


    After the young mage''s revelation about the long term value of what he was picking through with zeal before, Stag''s interest in the new acquisitions died significantly. Just as well because Orison had one more important thing to do with the wild fey blooded man before they left the Osomo free zone.


    Orison said, "I don''t have an easy way to do this but I need to clear you of the Osomo spark you have and give you a clean one. That would be impossible out there but in here I can do it. Warning though, it''s going to hurt. I''d leave it be but there''s a chance Osomo will yank you back after I yank you. Needless to say, that would be fatal."


    Stag flopped onto the bed dramatically and stared at the ceiling. "Slick''s in the second drawer. Loosen me up a little before you start if you''re feeling kind. It''s been awhile."


    The young mage shook his condensed spark out of his formation, letting the newly formed bit of bright crystal take center. He imagined he could hear the spirit grass protest as their sun got down-graded to a white dwarf. His sub-mind informed him that his soil''s intake of essence had also reduced to just barely more than what would sustain the current grass and his Titania summon.


    He had been under the impression that the motes were what empowered the soil but they were just making it with the help of the grass. The radiation produced from his formation is what made the free essence in his space that the grass used to live. They in turn created air and some kind of vital essence that the bracelet was currently enjoying. Since he didn''t have anything that needed whatever it was that the bracelet wanted, he could care less. In fact, he owed the object big time and if this was the pay back, he was happy it was so cheap.


    As he brought out the condensed spark, every eye in the room glued to it, especially Titania Prime. Before she could get too close, Orison pushed it into Stag''s chest. Under spirit sight, Orison watched as the spark drew in and consumed the lesser spark until it was gone. All the while, Stag writhed and held back a scream with sheer willpower.


    Once the condensed spark was done, Orison removed it and returned it to his space. Once he had found one of the untainted ones that hadn''t been chewed on overly much by his space yet, he placed it into Stag. Noting the minor internal bleeding from where the spark was placed, Orison hit him with a little healing before sinking a glowing mote into the new crystal.


    Looking up at Orison with involuntarily wet eyes, Stag said, "Was it good for you? Because I don''t think I''ll be remembering that too fondly."


    Orison looked at his newly christened long term companion blandly and said, "I''ll try to be gentler next time."


    Smiling weakly, Annie said, "I guess there are some positive sides to parting ways with you."


    The young mage said. "Living a wholesome, virtuous life is no less difficult and no less rewarding."


    Annie said, "A comforting lie. It only has a little truth to it."


    Orison shook his head, "No, I''ve seen bit and pieces of a greater truth. It matters. It''s just not easy... Even though Osomo subverts the journey of souls, to get away with what it does it still has to follow whatever those rules are. A**holes are respawned or born as creatures and people who live good lives are respawned into better circumstances or even become the souls of newborn nobles... I can tell there''s more to it than that but that''s all I personally know and can attest to without it being, what did you call it? A comforting lie."


    Annie said, "Be that is or isn''t true, we''re in a want to be other places. Unless... Are you in the mood to celebrate life?"


    Orison smiled and said, "With you? More than, but I don''t really get the feeling you''d be that into it. If I took you up on that offer, I feel like I''d be lumped with all the rest. I think being special to you appeals more than a quick roll for the road."


    Annie stared at him expressionlessly for a moment before she said, "You''re a little cruel aren''t you?"


    Orison hugged her and gave her a light peck on the lips then whispered, "Sometimes."


    It was time to leave. They all knew it but there was a small desire to stay. Fortunately, they could all blame it on the lethargy of the tainted spirit essence in the construct rather than the impending circumstances that waited for them after they left.


    Seeing Orison begin constructing a beacon model, Annie said, "Wait! It might be a lot to ask for but do you think you could invite someone else out that''s in confinement?"


    The young mage stopped casting and said, "It''s not that simple. I have to have some kind of connection to use as a backdoor. I could get away with Stag and another captor due to having family members present. In fact, Stag''s may not have been strong enough to reach were it not for the presence of another who''s father was present. It was a piggy back kind of thing."


    Biting her lip, Annie said, "If you had access to one of their children, could you?"


    A little hesitant, Orison nodded.


    Stag looked at Annie in surprise and said, "Are you trying to get Pete out?"


    Looking a little ashamed, Annie nodded.


    Stag said, "I''m not going to dig into old gossip but if that kid you helped to escape was really his instead of the guy that paid to breed you, you don''t have to have the kid. I... may have been using a dirty trick to keep from their little breeding program getting their hands on my legacy. I''m not going to go into details but what you got in you isn''t mine, you get me?"


    Dealing with some mixed emotions, Annie said, "Apparently I didn''t ''get'' you but... are you saying that it was Pete''s?"


    Stag nodded smugly.


    Looking tired, Annie turned to Orison and said, "It''s not that I have feelings for the guy but he is the father of my one year old son. It''s for my boy, not me. I..."


    Orison struggled to process what he just heard for a minute and then said, "Yeah, uh, sure... No, that makes sense. I mean, it makes sense that you wouldn''t want... That was a little left field so, but sure . Let''s do it."


    Unable to lock away all the complicated thoughts running in his head from showing, as Orison used his spirit sight to catch a trace of someone else''s signature within Annie, she said, "If things had played out differently, would this have mattered?"


    Orison thought about lying outright but the presence of Titania Prime kept him honest. "Yes, but it wouldn''t have been the end of everything either. It just wouldn''t have been as straightforward, not for me... It hasn''t taken yet but it still could. Do you want me to...clean it out?"


    Annie said, "Can I have a chance to speak with Pete first?"


    As neutrally as he could, Orison said, "Sure."


    With a flourish of magic, the group appeared at Indigo''s transporter. Once more and they were at the southern part of Sky Hub. One jump away from either Snow Cap or the hub city that connected to the Earth Circuit and the five great cities.


    "Here goes," Orison said as he invited Pete.


    Two minutes later, a fully naked, fairly human looking bull tribe beast folk appeared at the transporter. It didn''t go unnoticed.


    To help move things along, Orison prompted, "Annie, I think you have some clothes in the pile you just put away that will serve. No need to wait for local authority to give him a complimentary covered escort to the local tailor shop, right?"


    After a quick apology for forgetting how ''intimidating'' Pete was, she rushed off red faced to offer some clothes which the man put on with the air of a person who enjoyed the eyes of the public.


    Orison turned to Stag and said, "Real soul of the entertainer, this guy."


    Stag added, "Went from hired muscle to debtor employee and then to cage neighbor in under six months. He has no respect for rules but his own. Couldn''t ask for a better friend or a worst enemy.


    "More than one''s commented that the fact he wasn''t Chosen proves that Osomo doesn''t pick for potential. Next to no martial training and the guy has no problem tackling or knocking out anything under a top mid range defensive class. I get the impression that we''ve kinda used up your generosity but is there any way to..."


    Orison sighed, "I don''t but you do. In fact, since we haven''t officially traveled through a transporter or visited a trainer yet, your pugilist set is gift-able too. As a second generation, I think I heard that you can chose a retainer for three year chosen status... Oh, that reminds me."


    While Stag debated his own generosity, Orison walked to the trainer and dumped Rose''s remains on the platform. A few moments later, she walked out in the basic white courtesy outfit Osomo offered to Chosen who wiped in a horrific way.


    Looking around, she locked in on Orison and said, "When Ivan disappeared in transporter light, laughing like a fool after having soiled himself, I assumed your friend would be fine if he failed. I wanted to keep going and saw no harm in leaving them there."


    Orison said, "There was plenty of possibility for harm but you weren''t aware. I can''t hold that against you."


    Rose sighed, "A killer can''t complain about being killed. I might be a lot of things but a hypocrite isn''t one of them. For the record, I was only going to rough you up a bit but I''m proud of how you handled it. Am I allowed to think of myself as a good teacher?"


    Orison weakly smiled and said, "The very best. On a personal level you''re absolute sh*t, though."


    Rose shuddered and Orison pretended it was because he''d put the fear of god in her and not because his words gave her a cheap thrill. As she was about to use the transporter, Orison offered her the back of his wrist. Warily, she touched it with hers.


    After transferring a chunk of junk treasure, Orison also gave her one of the two vials of soul elixir he''d found in the second set of loot. Since it contained a good deal of the unknown purple substance that bonded people to Osomo, Orison didn''t want much to do with it other than a few experiments. Without some kind of help to replenish her weakened soul, there was no hope of Rose accomplishing much before her active days were done and the elixir could accomplish that plus some if she was determined to make the most of its effects.


    Orison said, "With that, we''re done. I don''t care about you or your issues anymore."


    While the young mage walked away, Rose shouted, "I think I might love you."


    Without turning around, he replied in a kind voice, "Thank you. I''ll remember to file a restraining order."


    While he had been finishing things up with Rose, his sub-mind had been scanning through the token rewards screen. Once the red haired Draconos had returned to Snow Cap, Orison returned to the transporter to flash away so that his purchases could be added to the crystal spark''s inventory. Once done with that, Orison unloaded a set of equipment on Stag.


    Not really knowing why he did it and feeling a little childish, when Pete came over to pay his respects, the young mage accepted them with as much social grace as he could muster before excusing himself and letting the three take care of their business by themselves. It didn''t take long. With less than five minutes spent, Pete was a royal retainer Chosen with a full pugilist set, off to Daub with a somewhat melancholy Annie.


    After the mismatched petite and mountain of menace couple was gone, Stag said, "What''s next?"


    Orison said, "That depends on you. What basic trainings do you want?"


    Stag chuckled nervously and said, "I thought you''d just tell me. You picked this set for me. I can feel it has good stats but it looks so basic. I can''t place what it is."


    Orison looked over the slightly baggy pants, undersized shirt and oversized fur lined short sleeve jacket. "It''s a neutral set. Besides, it doesn''t matter... Pugilist or adventurer isn''t a bad choice because it''s universally useful but I''d suggest some kind of training with a supernatural or magical touch to it as a second, even if it''s not really your thing. It might be personal prejudice but I feel it gives a few extra tools in the toolbox that physical skills alone just can''t give."


    Stag thought for a minute and messed his hair up in frustration. "Based off of what you told me, almost all of it''s worthless. Can''t you give me a few pointers on what will carry well or what you can help me add to that''ll be, I don''t know, not beginner?"


    Orison chuckled. "Are you asking me how to cheat ''climbing''? I''ve been hit with some pretty absurd luck in both directions. That''s not something I can teach you or you should even want to know. When it comes to survival, which is the most important, a good combat competency is essential. Healing is fairly boss for that on the magic side but it''s technical. Ultimately, when it comes to climbing, the more it fits you the more ''cheat'' it is because you''ll advance a lot faster when it matches your core self''s ideals.


    "What confuses me, is that nearly every Nunos is a healer/guardian. I figure that druid/archer would fit better for the blood that they carry but maybe they know something I don''t. Then again, I don''t see any of them doing much to strengthen their blood, only maintain what they have."


    As if he''d been struck, Stag looked at Orison stunned for a moment and then started laughing. By the time the green haired man had gotten himself under control again, Orison was on the verge of feeling offended.


    Stag clarified. "We''re told from an early age things we''re supposed to avoid if we''re Chosen. On the top of that list is druid because family who take it tend to disappear. In the early histories, we were banned from taking it at all. It wasn''t until the First Family did their vanishing act that we even had the choice. It''s fact that every family member who''s ever chosen to take it, shun the rest and eventually are never found.


    "The second that we''re not supposed to choose is necromancer. The reasons behind that are a little stranger. Supposedly, we''re not good at it and won''t make it very far. That''s true too but every generation, there''s one or two that take it and one of them will be the one who watches the family crypt. I could feel a life and death feeling from Ivan''s mark even though he''s a guardian... I think I''ve found my cheat.


    "If I dump professions, I should be able to pick up pugilist anyway. Based off what you say, they''re garbage anyway. Will that work? Druid, necromancer and pugilist, that''s what I want."


    Standing in an absurdly comical hands on hips hero pose, Orison declared. "Then that, intrepid hero, is what you shall get!"


    Half a day later, in the Temple of Greed, The two were bleeding, poisoned and suffering from numerous curses as Orison said, "Why do so many people want you dead so badly!?"


    Stag looked at Orison incredulously. "More than half of them were calling for your head by name. Don''t try to put this all on me!"

 102 Crystal Cage 40

    "Okay, take one of these panacea and let me think," Orison said as he handed Stag a fancy crystal bottle.


    Stag asked, "Where did these come from?"


    The young mage sighed and said, "What was left over of the tokens after I got your gear... So the breakdown... We get your necromancer training and get followed by Guild of Flesh people. We get your druid training in Daub and drum up Sek assassins.... That puts us one for one.


    "When we pass through Fortune for your pugilist training, you don''t even have a chance to get your feet back under you before we''re ran out by an angry mob. That''s on me but the Nunos man waiting for us to show up in Snow Cap was all you. And that''s the one that f***ed us up! How do you even get grand summoning artifacts!? I mean, a giant grim reaper pouring stewed mire mouth juice at us? I''m almost flattered really."


    Stag looked at Orison like the mage had lost his mind. "Would you be saying that if you didn''t have these fancy cure all thingies?"


    Orison said, "No, I''d be apologizing to you before we died. I thought transporters were supposed to remove status effects."


    Stag said, "Apparently not when the royal family in charge of the healing trainer removes that privilege."


    "I have the ''Equal to Heaven'' title. How does that even work?" Orison bickered.


    "They didn''t target you. They removed the effect from all transporters. It''s only for an hour or two at most but still, wow," Stag added, almost sounding impressed.


    Orison yelled in frustration, "Vivian, f*** your grandmother!"


    Stag said with a guarded face, "You know Vivian?"


    Orison said, "We have history. Very little of it''s happy history but I don''t hold that against her... much. Mostly, I just wish she''d grow a backbone against the matriarch."


    Stag said, "Considering everything, I should probably just come out and say it. The girl sent from the family, it was her."


    Orison shrugged but then other things that Stag had said sunk in. "You mean... with Pete''s... Does the poor guy at least know? When they find out, his life might be in danger!"


    The wild fey blooded man took his own turn shrugging. "It''s probably safer if he doesn''t. Don''t underestimate just how much he doesn''t care about anyone''s rules or opinions but his own. If he found out, he''d probably brag about it and definitely get himself killed."


    The young mage hung his head. "I just need a place with peace and quiet for a couple of days. I''ve got it all up in my head and a little salvaged from the construct. I''m pretty sure I''m going to crack the mysteries of that family and reveal another bit on my understanding of a major concept. After that, all the petty concerns of this world can go f*** themselves."


    Stag looked around and said, "Why can''t we just stay here?"


    Orison said, "The air will run out in a few hours and we''ll wake up respawning in Daub. Mo might get to us first but he might not be able to hold up to the pressure he''d face trying to keep us safe. Emris would do it but considering that his older brother is already hot under the collar to end the Guild of Flesh, he''s got more on his plate than he might be able to handle as it is.


    "I have three sets of allies who should be all I need to quell this but Emris and Mo are dealing with so much and have so few strong supporters, they aren''t overly reliable, might even get themselves assassinated trying to help me. I won''t do that to them. I''ve never even seen the Reach''s royal family. They''ve expressed some pretty strong goodwill over message but they can''t be in a great position either."


    Orison''s eyes lit up. After sending a message, he waited for a response as he casually flipped through a stack of paintings and a bundle of old letters.


    "Why do you look so calm all of a sudden?" Stag asked, mystified.


    The mage chuckled and said, "I''ve got family too. It''s a distant cousin but whatever... Hey, how messed up would you be if you found out you had fallen in love with a girl who was your past life''s granddaughter? Poor Danny... Oh, if we ever meet him in the future, pretend you didn''t hear that."


    Rolling his eyes, Stag said, "I''m trying to forget I''ve heard it now. Do you like snooping into other people''s dirty laundry?"


    Orison shook his head. "I pretty much hate drama because I hate building up sympathy for strangers and hate chaos in my life. Thing is, this isn''t dirty laundry, it''s a secret that could possibly free this whole world from Osomo''s control and it revolves around this crazy family... Not to sound like a bad guy but I just want to solve the riddle not save the world. If I have a chance, I''ll let someone know, though."


    When Orison got a response from Pelenel, he was disappointed. His ''cousin'' was deep inside the dark continent, far away from Osomo controlled anything. They had found the center of an empire that fell a little over 600 years prior. The anti Osomo empire was eventually destroyed but at its heart was a great construct that might have something much older than that within. It was something that they needed for whatever it was Pelenel and his uncouth comrade promised to do.


    For giggles, he asked Pelenel if the man knew anything about Daniel or the family who had made the constructs. The response of ''What do you know about Daniel?'' nearly made Orison bust out laughing as he explained how not but just after they had parted ways, Orison''s group traveled with Daniel''s reincarnation due to the memories on the trainer that Pelenel himself had unlocked.


    In a spit fire session, Pelenel and Orison relayed information back and forth. Sifting through the stack of letters and subtle hints within the portraits and sketches, Orison pieced together a multi-generational conspiracy. One so deep, the people involved didn''t even realize how their whole life of ambition and fulfillment was to serve in creating their own contribution to the end goal.


    Without Pelenel''s pieces of the puzzle, Orison''s understanding would have just been of the central people but not the whole thing. A fourth step outsider had been sucked into it without even realizing it. Four generations of a family and an entire country had been drawn in down the centuries. The perpetrators? Four sisters who saw that their family was about to suffer a catastrophe.


    As the air started getting stale within the temple, Pelenel and Orison continued to answer each other''s questions and share personal insights into hazier, less defined portions of the puzzle. Stag was tempted to interrupt, to remind the young mage that their current location was becoming not such a great place to be. The only thing that stopped him were tiny jumps of slow building static around Orison.


    For the various ties that bound Pelenel and Gravat to the sisters'' will, even after their death, the two were about to make their way into the resting place of an artifact capable of jamming Osomo''s control over a large expanse of area. The artifact would need a place with the ability to imitate Osomo''s functions to unlock access into the First Family''s floating city. The end goal would be to wrest control of the world away from the device for a brief moment, temporarily releasing all the soul cores inside. Securing the soul cores and memory crystals of the four sisters, Pelenel and Gravat would usher in the last act of a nearly 2000 year old plot.


    The last piece that would have taken who knows how long otherwise to achieve? A great construct under Fortune that only required a person to be of a certain power degree with the models of a beginner artificer. With a little sharing and instruction, Pelenel and Gravat''s oaths would be fulfilled thanks to Orison. With a little sharing of historical events and knowledge of people they had met, Orison had managed to see the whole picture of a family caught in the webs of a First Family intrigue meant to initiate itself at the beginning of the next Astral Cycle.


    Due to Orison''s interference, blessed royal families would still exist. Danny would no longer be a clueless wanderer ready for the four sisters to toy with whether it was love or self interest. Due to Duran, there would be a significant amount of boundary items missing too. That last fact was something Orison didn''t feel like sharing with his distant cousin, however.


    The most important to Orison wasn''t the information on the family, it was the implied information revealed through the sisters'' plot. Necromancer, summoner and artificer weren''t actually separate branches of studies at their root. Each did have other understandings and applications mixed in but at their heart it was all a type of conjuration meant to subsist outside of the creator.


    At the base, it was a triangle. At the theoretical foundational corner of no self awareness or independence laid the artificer starting point. At the theoretical corner of no self awareness but complete independence was necromancer''s beginning understanding. At the theoretical corner of full self awareness but no independence was the summoner''s initial attempts. Finally, at a theoretical pinnacle above the three is a state where independence and self awareness reach an ideal balance that still maintains obedience to its prime directives or its creator.


    This was the understanding that lead to the creation of Osomo. This was the legacy that kept an entire reality in thrall long after that which it was made to serve no longer existed. However, Orison wasn''t so sure the First Family itself no longer existed. With the four sisters as an example, there was no telling how many had memory crystals stored in the floating city''s vault with their spiritual cores hidden deep within Osomo. It could explain how an entire living group of people could suddenly cease, especially with so much power and resources at their disposal.


    There were many unanswered questions left surrounding the First Family and the power which inevitably existed behind them but none of that concerned Orison any longer. If his companions had stuck around or needed more time, he would have been interested in pursuing more of the remaining mysteries. But since they had moved on ahead of him, he was worried about Gan and curious how Duran was doing. There was a pressing desire in the back of his mind that drew him to inevitably return to Amoril as well.


    With a reassuring smile at his slightly oxygen starved companion, Orison was enveloped in a beam of light. With sub-mind assisted speed, the young mage reached through Stag''s mark and pulled with all the supernatural strength he could muster. For a moment, his own ascension was halted, capable of failing. Right before both he and Stag would have returned to Osomo, badly hurt if not dead, a small bit of assistance from elsewhere gave him a little more lift.


    Unsure and unable to determine where or what the assistance came from, Orison thought, "Thank you from all of us at ''I almost screwed myself''. Please come again. We''ll be keeping the light on for you."


    With the flash fading, Orison looked around at the astral light as he floated. Clinging to his leg, half scared out of his mind by the lack of directional gravity, Stag said, "Where are we?"


    Orison replied, "I don''t know really. The space between places is as good a label as any, I guess."


    Within moments of concentrating, They were standing on an invisible floor Orison had conjured from will. Nearby, two portals silently churned, a contrast of duality. One was the dark and dying reality, vaguely reminiscent of a 1940''s setting from what could be seen. The other, a bright and still slightly more real than Orison felt, bustling late 90''s metropolitan city.


    In spirit sight, Orison felt signatures from Ivan, Gan and even Duran coming from the bright portal. A small part of him almost wanted to jump into the dying reality portal anyway. There had to be a reason why Lily said step fours and higher viewed such places as treasure but all his companions had made their choice. It wasn''t really the wrong one either.


    Just as curious as Orison, Stag had been looking around at everything as well but turned as the young mage said, "Can you see the bright portal right there?"


    Looking to where Orison pointed and back, Stag said, "The one with the strangely shaped flying ship and magic carriages? Yes, I... Are you shrinking?"


    Orison hadn''t noticed until Stag had brought it to his attention but he was indeed shrinking. More accurately, he was being returned to his ''true age'' which was not much past newborn. With an exercise of will, he arrested the regression but sighed in exasperation at the loss of his hard earned young adulthood. Such a thing wouldn''t likely have happened if his strengthening spirit blood gave a more solid impression of what his physical form should be but it didn''t.


    The episode had unlocked a fairly powerful fact about the place they were in and that was a fact Stag happily took advantage of to skip a year or so of physical conditioning while restoring a slight touch of youth to his features. Orison was having a little more difficult of a time since the change he wanted seemed to run contrary to a portion of his subconscious that saw maturing as ''losing time''. Sadly neither of them got everything they wanted as a terrifying view of the colossal ball of astral murder came onto the scene again.


    With a shout to dash towards the portal, the young mage was merely two feet behind Stag when the green haired man passed through. Orison didn''t make it further. A hidden menace, the thing responsible for their successful escape, had a different idea. Rousing from its hiding place in a dark corner of Orison''s space, a black silk purse that had avoided Osomo and Orison''s detection for some time, wrenched the young mage right into the darkened portal.


    For a moment, Orison wondered how the silk purse had managed to recover enough for such a thing until he remembered that not long ago, his space had been filled with decompressing miasma. The evil thing had nipped a little for itself somewhere along the way. Whatever its purpose for yanking him into a dying reality, the young mage highly doubted it was going to be something he''d be happy about.


    Orison ''fell'' through a boundary baptism so painful, he nearly let himself lose consciousness, even under the threat of the purse. It was nothing like the first time''s initially gentle then somewhat rough but brief cleansing. It was more like an acid bath delivered with a wire brush. It was during this horrific scouring that the purse escaped from his space and turned to devour it.


    The young mage roared in defiance. Reaching out with his space to pull it back in, Orison fired up the one chunk of condensed eternium he had accumulated to attempt roasting it. It wouldn''t be the first time he played a game of ''who can eat the other faster'' and he was determined not to lose.

 103 Crawling Chaos 1

    With a dull slam, Orison''s physical self hit a hard surface but he barely felt it. Sub-mind assessing, he had two broken fingers, a cracked rib with torn ligaments in his right shoulder and elbow. The icing on the cake was a hairline fracture on his pelvis with some nasty bruises and scrapes lining the right side of his body from face to thigh.


    None of this registered as attention worthy while he struggled in a internal supernatural tug-of-war with the malevolent black silk purse. It became all too relevant once his sub-mind picked up on the presence of some gibbering terror inducing creature of darkness that clawed its way out of a deep, shadowy corner of the dead end ally he had appeared on. Whether drawn by the boundary crossing or the purse, Orison now faced a life or death struggle both within and without.


    Out of desperation, he furiously thought at the mustard seed bracelet, "If you can''t do something to help out, the h**ker handbag over there''s going to eat our cabbage patch. I might barely have a tie going on but there''s a boogeyman coming to eat my face off and I''m going to have to make hard choices on what I mind being chewed on a little... I think ''face'' is going to win this round."


    Though he wasn''t sure if it was his imagination or not, Orison could have sworn he heard an old man muttering on the nature of impermanence and desire being the root of all suffering. Imagination or not, the mustard seed bracelet took a vague shape that gave the faint impression of a sitting person before releasing nearly invisible wafts of incense smoke. As the smoke touched eternium ''fire'', the purse writhed like a salted slug.


    The sudden dramatic drop in the force that the purse exerted trying to rend strips out of his space and who knows what else, freed enough of Orison''s intent to meet the external threat. Said threat was taking its time to pull free of the shadows, looming over the young mage''s fallen form for all the fiendish shadow man was worth. Despite Orison''s exposure to far more bizarre spectacles, the creature in front of him held some small bit of ''endings'' within it that picked at the instinctual fear inside of him. This creature wouldn''t just kill him, it would make it so that he never would ''be'' again.


    In a bid to buy more time and test the waters, Orison pulled out Titania. No sooner had the fairy girl crossed into the world than tiny surging nubs of black crystal started coating the condensed eternium spark Orison had moved to hold the formation spot. Oddly enough, there was none of the strengthening that usually happened when he took in crystallizing spirit essence, just a steady buildup of crystal nubs. Considering there was nothing bad about unlimited fuel, he just tossed a few on the eternium ''fire'' and set his sub-mind to continue doing it for as long as it took to chow down the purse.


    With a quick thought of gratitude to the bracelet, Orison focused on the outside world where his Titania summons was flitting around the boogeyman''s head. The first thing he noticed was how slow the creature moved. The second was how slow it made everything around it move. It was like a wave of molasses coated the space it was standing in.


    Still, the young mage''s beautiful flying menace was doing a superb job of keeping it distracted as Orison painfully inched away. Slapping himself with some healing, Orison almost made it to the edge of the ''molasses field'' when he saw his summons shrivel up and with one slow swipe of the ''boogeyman'', scatter in a spray of dull gray powder. At first he thought it had been the darkness creature but his sub-mind informed him it had been from the continuous channeling of vitality absent spirit essence Titania had been performing.


    Looking through what meager resources he had left to draw from, Orison noticed a slowly deteriorating halberd within his space. With what force he could gather, Orison pulled it out and shoved the business end up at the boogeyman''s face. At first, there was just a stillness until a faint braying of hounds could be heard. With the shuffling speed of a arthritic grandparent, the boogeyman turned to flee back into the darkness it crawled from but the weapon lodged in its face didn''t move so neither could it. Seconds later, a rush of wind played against Orison''s face before the boogeyman howled out in a chilling rendition of a soul crying out from the depths of perdition.


    As two invisible forces dragged and worried at the creature''s various parts, a barely audible baritone voice said, "Swear an oath to release me in a year and a day. If you do this and allow me to inhabit your barrow for that time, I will be your vassal lord, proud son of heaven."


    Realizing just how out of his depths the situation he found himself in was, Orison only made one small stab at a counter offer, "I can accept those terms if you make an oath to not put your wants before my needs during your service."


    The baritone voice said, "I oath to serve with loyalty and duty equal to the sincerity of my liege for the length of a year and a day... Swear and deliver quickly or naught will be left to serve."


    Slightly confused, Orison said, "I accept your oath and, uh, offer you the sanctuary of my barrow?"


    Within his space, Orison saw a deteriorating box marked favors and another similarly rotting box labeled trophies explode in a splash of colorful handkerchiefs and bloody animal bits that rapidly turned to dust and deeply green spirit essence. Dust and essence both gathered on the barren underside of his five color soil before forming into a miniature of an armored man on a horse with a single hound. Orison panicked in the outer world as he initially thought that the boogeyman was crawling towards him but was in fact being dragged.


    The young mage reached forward to grab the rusty halberd before it and the boogeyman became dust as well. The powerful rush of spirit essence through him made him feel joyful for all of half a second before he realized that his arm turned gray and he couldn''t feel it. Additionally, his entire space, nearly to the very edges, was suddenly nothing more than a solid block of black crystal.


    In a near panic, the young mage assessed himself. There were only two open areas in all of his space up to its fringes. The first was a sphere around his bathtub plane and the second was a space created by the burning eternium under a weakly writhing black purse. With glacier slowness, a third was opening at the center of his formation where the First Family spark was drawing in the black crystal.


    The situation was a little dire but it didn''t take long for Orison to work out some initial solutions. He would have been a little hesitant to do so before but since there was all the black crystal insulation, Orison stripped the models off the condensed crystal spark. His strengthened formation could barely hold it in check but it was enough.


    The radiation was significantly brighter but came through as shadowy twilight near the plane. With the sudden influx of vital enrichment from processing and claiming the spark as his own, his soul and body were restored to a new peak. A new peak for his approximately mid-teen body, at least.


    The young mage addressed his internal entities, "Mustard, you''re the best. I can see that whatever it is you did, it took a lot out of you. Sorry for that. You just take a vacation on your little bed of spirit grass there and take it easy for awhile.


    "Sow''s ear, sorry, silk purse... keep wiggling. It''s letting me rotisserie roast you easier. I can''t wait to see how you liven up my space when it finally finishes chewing on you."


    Orison''s attempt at levity to dispel the giddy nervousness facing terrible fates both inside and out had caused was interrupted by baritone laughter heavily laden with self ridicule. "It seems my lord is far more destitute than I could have imagined."


    Offended, Orison shot back, "As the remnant of the one most responsible for my destitution and current recipient of what welfare I have remaining to offer, I hope that wasn''t an actual complaint."


    Herne replied, "You jest, my lord. I only speak plainly. If not in true strength, I most assuredly lost to superior guile. I''ve not fallen so low as to whine and lick wounds with my hounds. Still, if I am to serve with any usefulness, there is little with which to do so.


    "I am little more than shade of shade. For recovery, I need a vessel. It needn''t be of any but the basest of kinds. I will make do with what my lord can provide."


    Orison said, "I think I can do that but until that condensed eternium''s radiation can reach the spirit grass, there''s not a lot I can support long term."


    The miniature armored figure nodded and said, "My lord''s barrow is in a fragile state indeed. Worry not. As long as I have my lord''s permission to draw sustenance from the shade rock, my needs will not be in excess of what my lord can provide. I am of the line twixt life and death, not too unlike my lord''s familiars and the sweet grass above in one form. Sacrifice a small portion of thine barrow''s meat and bone to me, my lord, and I shall nurture it as well."


    Hoping he understood the meaning within the fey creature''s antiquated speech, Orison drew the essence needed to tie off the Oberon model over Herne and Enbarr''s over his horse. Seeing the weakening of the free essence in the five color soil, Orison hesitated before tying the golem model over Herne''s single hound. While Orison watched in fascination as the deep green and gray dust clouds of Herne and accompanying animal companions sunk into the forms he had made available, a noise in the outside world brought his attention away.


    At the entrance to the alley Orison was in, a man was thrown against a wall as he was surrounded by three street toughs. The leader of the three picked the man up and dusted his jacket off before gut checking the man so hard, the guy threw up. Orison was about to jump in and help when he remembered his promise to be more low key in future worlds. He reasoned that by the way things were playing out, the three scruffy guys were just going to knock some of the man''s stuffing out as a warning so it wasn''t a do or die.


    Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, Orison went to walk past, leaving them to their workout when the one in charge said, "Stick around, kid. We might have a job for you in a second. We''ll even give you a dollar for it. How''s that sound?"


    Considering that he had no money and the way the man had said his offer, a dollar might not be as bad as it sounded so Orison said, "Depends what the job is."


    The man in charge said, "We''re going to finish working over this nosy prick but we don''t want him dying on our turf. Just drag him over to someone''s doorstep, easy peasy."


    Orison shrugged and nodded. Since they were talkers, it took awhile but they each took a turn letting off a little steam on the guy. During their beat down, the young mage found out that Neil, the man spitting up bloody saliva, was a private detective that had been trying to contact one of Smiley''s girls. Smiley didn''t particularly care why and had warned Neil to stay away once but the detective had taken a job by the girl''s mother, trying to convince her to return home.


    Neil had managed to deliver his message on the second try but had been caught in the act. That lead to the situation unfolding in front of Orison where Smiley got his right hand, Club Foot, along with Slim and Horse Face, to ''beat the man to a hair of the pearly gates''. Mission accomplished almost literally, Club Foot turned the beating into a mugging before tossing a silver dollar to Orison.


    Noticing that Niel had taken everything in a kind of fatalistic stride until Club Foot had fished a broken pocket watch out, the young mage said, "That piece of tin isn''t worth anything but a grudge. You''re already taking everything else. Leave him a reason not to think about you when he''s drinking one night with a gun and a single bullet left to his name. He''ll be more likely to use it on himself instead of you."


    Club Foot shuddered and broke out in goosebumps as he locked eyes with Orison, the nasty comment he was going to make dying on his tongue. Wordlessly, the street tough tossed the broken pocket watch onto Neil''s chest before walking away. Disappearing into the distance, a last few words of false bravado and promises of fun evening activities bounced between the three thugs.


    Orison turned to the abused man who was struggling to tuck the pocket watch back away. After helping the man get the silver and gold watch into the pocket of a threadbare suit vest, the young mage hoisted the man up once he''d ran a touch of healing into Neil''s back and legs covertly. It was at that moment Orison realized he was still fairly injured himself.


    Stumbling through the darker edges of sidewalk, Orison steadily healed himself as he dragged the man onward. With the nearest clinic being several blocks away and the detective''s own apartment being even further, the young mage was ecstatic when he caught the faint hint of medicinal herbs coming from another alley. A dingy sign for an eastern apothecary shop was barely visible from the angle it was placed. Across from it was a little hole in the wall restaurant that let off the far stronger smell of steamed pork dumplings.


    Ignoring Neil''s weak protests, Orison hobbled them up to the apothecary''s door. After knocking a few times with no answer, Orison set Neil down and turned to walk away faintly calling out comically for the police. When the door opened showing an entirely unamused middle-aged Asian man, Orison returned.


    Putting away the smile, Orison turned serious as he said, "This man''s current problems are the result of resolving past ones. We''re not bring any trouble other than what you see. I''m here as a customer, not a troublemaker but if I have to haul his busted a** halfway across this city to get him help, I''m going to be in a very bad mood."


    Grudgingly, the older man opened his door wider urging them to hurry in. "I hope you won''t make me regret letting you in. I have many medicines but none for regret... How will you be paying?"


    Orison said, "If you''re open to barter you''ll get better value but ultimately, that will be up to which set of stock you let me have access to."


    Seeing that the man was going to play dumb, Orison added, "There''s the somewhat expired herbs and ointments behind the counter, the fresher mundane selection to the back left and a few other hidden holes throughout this place that have increasingly rare and valuable ingredients. That''s what I mean. Not that I''m prying."


    With an inevitable round of song and dance, Orison finally packed away some ingredients he''d play with later. For the detective, he used some old minty ointment and some mundane first-aid techniques peppered with a little covert applications of supernatural healing. With the magically and spiritually ''dead'' air of this world, the young mage realized he''d have to be frugal or he''d find himself tapping into spiritual reserves that were already being heavily stressed with internal endeavors.


    In the background, the older Asian man was making a very successful attempt to keep amusement off his face but his eyes fairly watered with suppressed laughter thinking that Orison was bamboozling the poor detective. Although the man had engaged in his fair share of snake oil salesmanship, that didn''t change the fact that he was a skilled eastern medical practitioner. The amusement in the man''s eyes changed to awe filled suspicion when subtle signs of too fast recovery were showing on Neil.


    Noticing the change in the shopkeeper''s demeanor, Orison realized he''d already screwed up but it was hard to control precise healing that didn''t spill over into secondary effects. And if honest, he felt a touch guilty at watching the detective get so harshly beaten without lifting a finger. That guilt had him looking back at the shopkeeper with a finger on his lips.


    With an inward sigh, Orison said, "Just take it easy here for a bit, Neil. We might have glued you back together but until that glue dries, you could fall back apart if you move around too much... Me and the nice shopkeeper are going to settle the final bill and I''ll see about getting some dinner from the place across the street."


    Half delirious from relieved pain, Neil said, "I was worried there but you''re a good kid."


    Knowing full well that the ''bill'' had more than amply been paid with exotic fabrics earlier, the man was a bit nervous when Orison asked him to the back to settle things. It didn''t escape the young mage''s notice that the man had covertly reached for a few odds and ends as they made their way to the office.


    Seeing that the man was wound up and ready to resort to any number of desperation moves, Orison said, "Before you waste valuable ingredients, I''m open to some questions if you don''t mind me asking a few general ones. Nothing of a personal nature, I promise."


    Once the man saw Orison take a seat in the plain chair on the opposite side of his work desk, The man made his way to the other side and had a seat himself. "The restaurant will be closing soon. Let me send my niece to pick us up something."


    Knocking on the wall behind him a few times, a slit opened and the man fired off a string of words that Orison caught the emotional gist of if not the actual meaning.


    Orison nodded once the man was done and said, "I don''t blame you for taking some extra precautions but I''m actually hungry and I''m sure the detective on your couch is too. Please tell me you really ordered some food and maybe some tea as well."

 104 Crawling Chaos 2

    The shopkeeper said, "I did but I couldn''t tell you what it will be. More of whatever they ate for dinner themselves I would think... Forgive the rudeness but who are you associated with?"


    Orison said, "No one. For good or ill, I''m a blank slate here. That doesn''t mean I won''t be missed, mind you. It''s just that the people who will come looking for me if I don''t make it back to them might take a few years to catch up but at least one of them is very good at finding what he''s looking for."


    The man stroked his neat beard and said, "Do those who control this area, know of you?"


    Orison shook his head. "I''m not sure on what level you''re talking but no. I don''t plan on getting involved in anything I don''t have to either. I''m perfectly happy being a passing stranger. If the man out there wasn''t nearly beaten to death right in front of me, I wouldn''t even be here in this shop."


    It took until food came for them to stop tiptoeing around what the other knew of the supernatural and those involved in such things. Eventually, Orison found out that those with ''gifts'' were incredibly secretive in this world and for the most part, the supernatural community was completely unknown to the general public. While the man let bits and pieces slip trying to figure out who or what Orison was, the young mage figured that the best thing to claim being out of what was made known to him would be an exorcist. Claiming so gave him freer license to roam and be more generally welcomed.


    The man wasn''t going to let him just claim it without some demonstration of skill, however. To prove his chops, Orison was made to ''exorcise'' a minor curse off an item that had likely been stolen from a tomb. There was a fair amount of negatively attuned spirit essence on it, not much different than necromantic energy, and that was what made the people who carried it around sicken and die. It took all of two seconds and a controlled use of devouring intent to make the jade comb perfectly safe. Internally, he frowned over the fist sized nub of black crystal that choked up a small corner of his formation space.


    Orison thought, "I can see why fourth steps would call a place like this treasure but I''m just a little shopping bag that the world is trying to stuff to death with every slight opening. With reality failing, everything is pressing in. If I''m not careful, this place is going to pop me like an over fed tick.


    "What''s worse, it''s all empty calories. Without my formation to compress it and the spirit grass to make more of what should be in it, coming here at my step would be pointless. Add in that the boogeyman I ran into was probably just the tip of the iceberg for what dangerous stuff is in this world and I need to leave as soon as possible."


    Still new to climbing, Orison wasn''t exactly sure how a person went about leaving a place as soon as they could. Neither his starting point nor his last step had been typical experiences compared to what little he knew about the path he had chosen. The thick blanket of oppressive force that was this reality''s inward collapse would take Orison becoming stronger or ''more real'' at the very least. Beyond that would only be empty guesses.


    Having built some good rapport, the man said, "People around here call me old man Wei or Mr. Wei if you prefer. What should I call you, young man?"


    Orison was about to answer when a creepy feeling came over him, an intuition that such an exchange was more than it appeared. It didn''t have much to do with Mr. Wei but another who was listening nearby. Keeping spirit sight as subtle as he could, Orison looked around until he saw a vague outline behind a wall.


    Looking at the outline, the young mage said, "I''d be more than happy to share that, Mr. Wei but within the presence of certain individuals, it has a deeper meaning. For the one that applies to, if any wish to speak to me, mentioning the wild hunt will get my attention."


    On a napkin, Orison wrote his name and showed it to the shopkeeper before exercising presto to burn it. "It''s fine to say my name. It''s just that willingly sharing it-"


    Mr. Wei raised a hand, "I may not be more than an outlier but I am aware of some old rules. It was a little more excitement than I typically enjoy, Orison, but if you find yourself in need of more supplies, you know where to find me... Shall I call a cab for you and your detective friend?"


    Orison sighed. "Not unless you''d like to do another brisk round of trading. With Mr. Jones having been freshly mugged and my current situation, I may have some valuables but for money, I have a dollar to my name."


    With a friendly but opportunistic glint to his eye, Mr. Wei was quick to ''offer his assistance''. A few minutes later, in a cab with a lightly dosed detective, Orison looked at the bag of leftovers with a canister of consolation ''you got fleeced'' tea sitting on top. For a moment, he thought about Droya. He missed her and vaguely was aware of how mortified she''d be of how badly he got lead around by the nose.


    Even in his half asleep state, Neil was aware enough that sending a teenager out into the night at that late point would be bad. After confirming that Orison didn''t have anyone who needed to be contacted for concern over his well being, he offered the young mage his office couch. Within moments of being poured into bed, Neil was out, leaving Orison alone with a head full of restless thoughts.


    Pacing around the detective''s dirty office, he busied himself with some light cleaning. Upon seeing a percolator clogged with coffee grounds, Orison had a moment of sad realization that he had shelled out good gold for a generous amount of coffee and cocoa beans he''d never see. He felt tired enough to rest but the presence of a person watching him outside had him on edge and unable to.


    Walking over to the window, Orison cracked it and said, "I would really like to sleep now but I can''t with peeping perverts just chilling on the wall like some kind of spider-man. Either come in and say what you have to say or leave. The last option is, I rig up a lamp into a spotlight and shine it at every surveillance post you try to take until daybreak. If I can''t have peace, neither will you."


    Moments later, a figure from outside slid the window open further and crawled in. As soon as they had their feet, they strode over to the couch and sat down.


    A feminine voice with a thick eastern accent he couldn''t place said, "Since you invited me in, are you not going to serve tea or something. Westerners have no sense of propriety."


    Blandly, Orison retorted, "Guests who are entitled to such niceties were usually invited from the beginning, not out of duress. That said, wearing a head cover indoors shows a lack of propriety, much less one that covers the entire face. Of course, I won''t simply label an entire group of people off of one person''s failings. I highly doubt more than a small handful of those who share common nationality to yourself have such perverse hobbies."


    The lithe figure, still wearing face wrap, stood up and said, "That is the second time you have called me perverted. Do you dare to say it one more time!?"


    Quirking an eyebrow, Orison said, "Shouting in a sleeping man''s home that you are a guest in... what a shameful lack of propriety."


    With an act of pure willpower, the mystery woman pushed her anger back in and sat down as calm and placid as a windless pond surface. "What is shameful would be your claim to be an exorcist. Not a single feature of your person in demeanor or equipment matches such a boast."


    Using the percolator as a kettle, Orison heated some water and did his best to make a couple of decent cups of tea in spite of not having the proper equipment. Setting the mismatched cups down in front of him, the quarrelsome woman took the cup he had set down in front of himself. Chuckling to himself, he took the other.


    After a few sips, Orison set down his cup and said, "Those labels are pretty much meaningless to me anyway. Sorcerer, high magician or exorcist, all of them are garbage labels. I was only answering as courteously as I could, questions that asked more than what was strictly polite to begin with."


    Adjusting her mouth cover back into place, the mystery woman sat down her cup and said, "No particular action of yours is wrong. That is, if you are not lying."


    Orison said, "I don''t know enough to lie. Now, withholding information is a completely different matter. Before you ask me any more questions or try to dig into my abilities or anything else I know, if you can''t show equal sincerity, don''t bother. I''m full up on freebies today, Mr. Wei''s niece."


    In a motion that was almost too fast to follow, the woman flung two packets of powder at the young mage. One glittered silver and the other, a dull yellow. Reflexively, Orison exercised telekinesis to guard himself from the strike. Seeing that her attack had failed, she dashed towards the window.


    Orison calmly said, "I''ll expose myself to the silver if you like but I wasn''t about to breathe unknown crap. I''m keeping them by the way."


    Three quarters out the window, she paused to see that he wasn''t trying to follow her at all but was cleaning up and separating the piles she threw like he was afraid he''d lose them.


    Talking to himself more than to her, Orison said, "Oh, so this is a strong sedative. A lot stronger than the stuff she slipped in my tea. Not only is she a pervert, she''s probably a molester as well. I''ll have to be careful around her in the future."


    Listening from outside, she nearly lost her grip on the wall.


    Sticking her head back in, she said, "You''re the pervert and molester. Your whole family are perverts and molesters!"


    Whatever else she was going to say was cut off by a frugal amount of dull yellow powder being forcefully inserted into her nose after an invisible hand pulled her face mask down. Realizing she''d been duped, the woman tried to release the windowsill only to feel two invisible dog paws hold her hands in place until she lost consciousness.


    Orison pulled her in and laid her on the couch as a baritone voice said, "My lord captured her with her own wiles. If she were to be claimed, it would only be rightful dues of the trespasser."


    Slightly scandalized, the young mage looked at an empty space in the room and said, "Centuries of abstinence have made you a little too thirsty, Herne."


    Deep but soft laughter preceded, "Tis true. My lord should discern the flower''s beauty first, least she prove unworthy of the labor."


    "You''re much better at resisting the influx but some essence is slipping past you. As much as I''d like to leave you and Nibbles out, I''m going to have to wait until my space can handle it," Orison said, more to stop the horrifying suggestions than any real fear.


    A slight movement of air and a baritone whisper of ''by your leave'' were the only evidence that something else had ever been in the room. Inside, it was slightly comical seeing a dog made of five color earth cramped up against a horse curled precariously around the underside of a mound of dirt too small for it as a barely two foot tall version of Herne patrolled the horse''s back.


    Orison desperately hoped Herne''s claims of being able to help rather than drain the mini plane were true or he''d lose a very valuable asset very quickly. Neither he nor his sub-mind could feel a difference in the weakened plane''s essence level. It was as if a delicate balance had been achieved but could be broken at any time. It was nerve wracking.


    Orison didn''t even bother looking over at the window as he said, "Come on in and get her. The only things she suffered were getting a small dose of her own dull yellow medicine and some mild embarrassment when she realizes her temper got the best of her. All in all, she''ll be wiser for the ordeal with no harm done aside from a little bruising to her pride."


    A slightly taller and more athletic figure slipped in through the window wearing the same snug but flexibly comfortable looking, ancient style burglar clothes.


    Another heavily accented but definitely masculine voice said, "Your generosity of mind is appreciated but I find the lack of any anger interesting. Were you expecting this?"


    Orison nodded. "Not in any meaningful way but I figured I''d get a little testing of the waters and surveillance. Besides, due to a short time friend sharing some of his fondest memories, I can see a little of the charm hotheaded brats have. Make no mistake, that is a temporary and fleeting sentiment, however... This might seem like an odd request but I''d like a set or two of the outfits you guys wear."


    The man paused for a moment before he chuckled. "I''m afraid these are members only equipment. Our tong might be smaller and a little loose on tradition but certain rules can only be bent so far. We still have to worry about face."


    The young mage showed a little disappointment and said, "All they lack is a little more ability to switch from business to casual. They''re pretty superior in every other aspect. Not to mention they cut an admirable figure. Assuming you''re not caught doing something shady they kind of have a dark hero vibe to them."


    The stranger threw a big thumbs up and said, "You have good eyes! Alright, How does this sound? We won''t give you any trouble if you want to tour our territory as long as you don''t belong to any other society. Lend a helping hand if you see a demon, ghost or the like and be respectful of East Village residents."


    Orison nodded. "If I stick around, that''s fair. Oh... speaking of helping hands... I don''t know what you call them but there was a boogeyman a couple of streets before Mr. Wei''s shop in a dead end alley. It''s taken care of but I don''t know if one being there is a sign that there might be more. And I doubt it has anything to do with it but that''s where I met the detective. Smiley''s people were working him over there."


    The man asked a few questions about what it looked like and what abilities it displayed, then said, "I''ll look into it... Our territory is pretty much the lower city with East Village at its heart. People like Smiley might have a turf within our territory but we do not associate with or police them as long as their fingers do not reach for East Village.


    "If you find a need to defend yourself against a crime element that exists in our territory, we won''t get involved unless it affects East Village or they are employing another society member. In short, we won''t help you fight with them but we won''t hold you accountable for using your gift against them either. That''s the best I can give.


    "Other than that, know that north of the river belongs to the Masons. To the west there is a small band of Rose Cross members that we have an alliance with. Further west you''ll see farming and ranching communities that reject modern convenience. If you value your life, don''t do anything on their land. They are peaceful but what protects them from man and monster alike, is not.


    "Out of town to the south is a small community that enjoys it''s arts and crafts. Many people from East Village go there to buy and sell things. It''s a nice place to look for supplies. You won''t ever see the group that guards it from threats unless they take a liking to you. If they take a dislike to you, no one will ever see you...again."


    Orison was taken a bit by surprise of the sudden friendly info share but wasn''t going to question it too much. "Any other points of interest? Not trying to keep you but a little free information can be a lifesaver."


    The man got quite for a moment, then said, "If you don''t know, going further north, past the city isn''t wise. Going past the bay''s sea shelf after nightfall isn''t wise. The unawakened and ungifted do it often with a small number of victims but it''s different for us. Something watches for us and none may go north or east onto the sea without challenge, usually fatal.


    "If you find this place not to your liking, there is a great country full of wonders and threats west and south, all the way to the western coastline and southern gulf, but the entire northeastern part of this country belongs to them. The Masons territory above us is the last one before land that is no longer under the rule of man... As you answer when others speak of the wild hunt, I answer when others speak of the path of rivers and lakes."


    Orison smiled. "So you not only dress like a hero but you hold the romantic notions of one in your heart as well. I like Wuxia as long as the main character doesn''t have a harem."


    The man cocked his head to the side and said, "I''m surprised you know of it. A hero might steal into another''s harem but having one of his own? How then could he be free to follow the path of rivers and lakes? Nonsense."


    While the man stole out the window, carrying the girl like a sack of flour, Orison thought, "I forgot what time period this is. Self indulgent, have your cake and eat it too stories aren''t really a thing for a long time to come. Of course, this isn''t really like Earth''s past or something. It''s just really similar in a lot of ways."

 105 Crawling Chaos 3

    When Neil shambled his aching body into the kitchen area that divided his personal and work space, he saw Orison sitting at the table. In the young mage''s hands was one of the detective''s old mathematics books from high school.


    While he poured himself a fresh brewed cup of coffee from a percolator that looked newly bought but exactly the same as his old one, he caught bits and pieces of Orison''s mumbling. "Trigonometry that ignores planetary curvature!? Where does the extra, unaccounted for space go? Two right triangles make an equilateral... How does a third one fit? Where did the extra space come from?... That would suggest that the teleportation I know is accomplished through accessing a fourth dimensional space from a second dimensional one... The reason the First Family''s security and long term storage was so amazing came down to them using some method to access a time independent space. By merging exactly one-third of a three dimensional object into it, they created a false two dimensional object that can still be perceived as 3D and pretty much be ''timeless''.


    "Objects whose surfaces were compatible with Pythagorean theorem were probably the only ones they could safely use. That''s why so many things followed that design. The reason why I never noticed was because I was directly looking at the whole object while I was manipulating it and my sub-mind didn''t want me blowing my brains out of the back of my head.


    "I owe a huge apology to the entire mage community of Amoril for my arrogant assumptions of their intelligence. I can also see why even geniuses like the old man who built Construct Three hadn''t been able to fully overcome the last hurdle to cracking Osomo. He and everyone who followed in his footsteps probably went fruit booty nuts or died trying!"


    Checking out the bruises on his face against the shiny surface of the percolator , Neil said, "Yeah, I go a little crazy when I look at that thing too. Math was never one of my good subjects."


    Snapping out of his musings, Orison continued flipping through the text book as he said, "Got a few things done this morning and bagged us some free brunch by introducing a local diner to the idea of breakfast sandwiches. No offense intended if it''s not your thing but there''s a choice left between bacon and egg or sausage egg and cheese."


    Unrolling the paper bag Orison pointed at, Neil pulled out the contents and asked, ??Is both alright?... And what''s in the paper cup?"


    Orison shrugged and said, "Sure. I don''t want them. Oh, that''s gravy. I think it''s a nice touch the lady at the diner came to herself but it''s a bit overkill on the cholester-er, never mind."


    Neil noticed the teenager cringe as he dipped the biscuit sandwich into the gravy. "Did she spit in it or something?"


    Face sliding into a pleasant neutral, Orison said, "No, but enough about that. I''ve actually got a couple of important things to run by you before we either part ways or have things to do I''d rather not wait on getting done."


    Neil blinked at him owlishly. "Look kid, I don''t want to ruffle your feathers but I should probably be explaining things to your parents at this point. I owe you but the things you''ve seen and the doe you shelled out aren''t just small potato... I don''t know what you were doing there and if I have to gloss over a few details to make thing go a little easier on you with your folks, that''s fine but-"


    Sighing, Orison sat down the textbook, looked Neil in the eyes and said, "There are no ''folks'', Detective Jones. I''m emancipated in any case. Feel free to check at the Department of Records. Therein lies my two largest concerns at the moment... Here in the glorious, river split a** cheeks of Port Haven, an emancipated minor needs an endorsement of two adults. On top of that, since I have a general education diploma, I''m expected to have gainful employment.


    "Following the logic of ''better the devil I know'', I spoke with your landlord and he was willing to endorse me as long as I stand in guarantee of your late and future rent for as long as I require said endorsement. He''ll even let me do a little minor renovation to turn this floor''s unused supply closet into a second bedroom attached to your suite. Wi-"


    Wiping his face and attempting to hold back the grimace of pain that induced, Neil interrupted, "Now, hold on a hot minute. You''re taking a lot of libert-"


    Grim faced, Orison cut back in, "I''m taking nothing! I''m giving a whole lot for the sake of a little convenience... Let me spell out your current situation, what I need from you and what I''m offering in turn. If you don''t like my offer then I move on, no more discussion necessary."


    Neil slumped into the other chair and said, "Fire away but don''t expect good news at the end."


    Orison smirked. "As things stand, you have a good week of recovery left before you can even do your fringe work, three before you''re ready for anything that will actually pay bills. You have two days before your phone gets turned off, four before your landlord evicts you and a snowball''s chance in hell of getting the sixty dollars together necessary to stop that and keep the lights on. Add that the landlord is coming close to chucking you out even if you can somehow pull a ''Hail Mary'', it''s dark days all around.


    "I need a second endorsement and a person who says they are employing me. That''s it. The only actual interactions we need to have boil down to the very small amount of times I might need to use your kitchen, especially since your office has a toilet and sink I can use before or after hours. There might be one compulsory visit from children''s services but I doubt that will even happen.


    "In return, I catch up your bills. If the fact you can get out of bed at all today has impressed on you that I know my way around some unconventional medicine, I can get you back on your feet in a couple of days and ready for serious work in less than a week. If you agree, I''ll give you a chance to change your mind in a week. After that, I''ll prepay for three months and you can change your mind after one. Who knows, long before then, I might get fed up and leave of my own accord but I''ll still get you your three months rent."


    Seeing the heavily conflicted look on Neil''s face, Orison said, "There''s a glass bottle of rather foul tasting but incredibly good for you medicine in the fridge. I''ll come back after I''ve fixed the radiator on your landlord''s car and help Ms. Messier to bury her cat. If you haven''t drank it by then, we don''t need to share another word."


    Neil looked at Orison sharply and said, "Ms. Messier... that girl''s mom?"


    Already half out the door, the young mage responded, "Yes, the mother of the girl you talked to yesterday, the one that works at the diner whose food you just ate. She feels terrible that her request got you hurt but I wouldn''t let her give you an extra cent. She''s not well off either and she''s gone through enough. Consider your medical expenses taken care of since I interfered in your commission."


    While Orison went through the motions of a mechanic, he slapped a couple of mends on the landlord''s radiator and surrounding parts while he contemplated his morning. Barely out of trance rest, said landlord was knocking on the door at six. Fobbing the man off with a twenty and a light touch of supernatural suggestion, Orison caught a cab to the upper city. With Herne''s grudging assistance and a few more uses of suggestion that left the young mage feeling a little morally uneasy, he had managed to forge himself a workable identity that would bare under the scrutiny of law enforcement. There were some catches but nothing too difficult to deal with.


    Not wanting to fall into the slippery slope of leaning on suggestion to solve his problems at the expense of ethical and moral dilemmas, the young mage took a different course. Returning back to Neil''s apartment building, Orison struck up a conversation with the landlord. The man was a little shady but upfront about it which lead to their arrangement of endorsement for a little cash and some help around the building.


    Returning to Neil''s office/apartment, he ran into Ms. Messier. After informing her of Neil''s completion of assignment but current injured state, the woman burst into tears and promised to give more money as soon as she could which Orison informed her was unnecessary. Once he had comforted her enough for reason to reassert itself, she realized she was late for work. With nothing better to do, Orison walked her there. A pleasant conversation and reinvention of the breakfast sandwich later, he found himself looking for her cat, the task that had introduced Ms. Messier to Neil in the first place.


    With Nibbles, the invisible hound on the case, it didn''t take long but unfortunately Kippers capers were kaput. The poor tabby had been half eaten by some stray. To save the nice waitress some grief, Orison wrapped up the remains in some newspaper and placed it in a shoe box, neat and clean. Enduring a second round of histrionics that had Orison realizing the woman was well on her way to an anxiety attack, Orison used the slightest touch of suggestion to help her get back under control. The diner owner took it from there after sending him off with a couple more sandwiches and a promise that he had a good amount of credit if he was in the mood for some free grub.


    While making the recovery draught, Orison found out that his telekinesis was an ability that conformed with the world quite well and therefore was quite a bit easier and cheaper to use. With some time and practice, he was fairly certain that healing and degree shift could be conformed and used more efficiently here as well. He wasn''t as confident about anything else but with Herne and the wild bunch, he didn''t feel that vulnerable against anything he''d encountered thus far.


    All in all, Orison felt accomplished for his first day in the dying world and it was just a touch after noon. Shaking the cobwebs in his head loose, Orison wrapped up his mechanic act, let the landlord know to get some antifreeze into the radiator and made his way back to the diner. While he waited on Ms. Messier to finish with the moderately underwhelming lunch rush, Orison was forcefully treated to a slice of apple pie a-la-mode.


    Out of boredom, Orison chatted with Alice, AKA ''Mrs. Derby to you, young man''. "Have you considered an express menu? There''s a lot of people who don''t have time to sit down and take a half an hour or more for lunch. Just a simple burger and fries wrapped up into a bit of butcher paper and offered at a decent price would appeal to a more ''on the go'' crowd. Once you had a handle of the demand, you could anticipate orders and cut down waiting time even more. A little creative arrangement and you could even turn that window over there into a drive through pick-up."


    Ten minutes into the preliminaries of getting a ''fast food'' concept running and Alice seemed more than able to fill in the blanks. With a subtle hint that picking up one or two East Village part-timers might be in her best interests, he was ready to go dig a hole in Ms. Messier''s flower garden. It wasn''t that the woman was incapable of doing it herself. Orison was only too aware of how sad, scared and lonely she was.


    As much as his heart strings tightened for her plight, Orison wanted to avoid getting emotionally entangled with anyone here. Half of his reasoning for choosing Neil as an endorsement was due to his much easier ability to keep a loose acquaintanceship with the early thirties detective. So when a beautiful young woman with a tragic but brave vibe made her way into the back yard of the dilapidated tenement, Orison nearly bolted right then and there.


    The young mage thought, "Really!? The green and the red krypt*nite at the same time!? Nope. Just, nope."


    When Ms. Messier latched onto her daughter and started lapsing between babbling her concern about the young woman and and the late Kippers, Orison said, "I''m intruding, let me see my way out."


    Despite protests to the contrary and the young woman trying to thank him and even give him ''a little something for your troubles'', Orison begged off and all but ran out. In front of the building was a dapper and charismatic gentleman that all but reeked of villain in front of his fancy car. Pasting an oblivious but pleasant expression on his face, Orison nodded politely in the man''s direction, since they had made eye contact, and went about removing himself from the area.


    "Hey you there, with the funny jacket. You the kid who dragged that clumsy detective back home after he went and tripped all over the place?" the dapper man said, flashing a predatory smile.


    Dourly, the young mage turned around and said, "Unfortunate streak of bad luck, that was. People with two left feet shouldn''t dance in cluttered alleys."


    "Smart people tend to live longer lives. You look sharp, so I gotta ask. Why are you sniffing around the house of my dame''s old lady?" the dapper man said, smile growing more sinister by the moment.


    Orison sighed, "Helped her bury a dead cat. The good news is, she won''t be losing anymore hard earned money to detectives chasing after lost causes. Since her loved ones and in-laws are here, there''s no need for a stranger like me to be sticking around."


    The man slipped a business card out of his cigarette case and said, "Too smart''s as bad as not smart enough. Do yourself a favor. Have a night on me and kill a few brain cells."


    With a deceptively casual flick of his wrist, the man sent his business card whistling towards Orison with the precision of a throwing knife. The young mage was happy he had his gloves on from digging in the garden because it was edged like one too. And even with the quality of his equipment, the card managed to leave a cut in the material that imitated leather. Neither the throw nor the card itself where mundane. Both carried a hint of supernatural quality.


    Exercising a flair of showmanship, Orison shook the card three times before making it ''disappear'' into his space, earning another small nub of black crystal. "Thanks for the treat, Smiley. I''ll remember your generosity."


    Mistaking Orison''s saintly smile for genuine gratitude, Smiley took the fool''s act at face value and tapped the brim of his hat before proceeding to ignore Orison''s presence as if the teenager didn''t exist. Once the young mage was out of sight, the sound of a busting tire hid a faint growl and low baritone chuckle. Half a block away, Orison could hear the distant and colorful commentary on street conditions and general thoughts on reputation surrounding the old immigrant tenements.


    Mending his glove, Orison mumbled, "You''re lucky I don''t have Nibbles rip your throat out, you cheeky sh*t."


    "Why don''t you then? Why do you restrain yourself?" an old Asian man standing behind a produce stand said.


    Orison''s heart nearly leaped out of his throat before sinking into his stomach. Even with a light trace of spirit sight always active, the young mage hadn''t had a trace of warning that the man was there until he spoke.


    Cupping his left hand over his right at eye level, Orison bowed to the man, letting his hands go below his knees before straightening up. "No matter what I may think of myself, a guest must lower his head at the eves of another''s home. If not out of respect, then at least out of practicality."


    The old man''s eyes narrowed in amusement as he smiled. "Is that why you bow to me? Out of practicality?"


    Orison said, "Both. You are my elder and you are stronger than me."


    The old man nodded once and let out a short grunt of appreciation at Orison''s answer. "A good answer. More importantly, an honest one. As time passes, age matters less and strength matters more... One last question. Why the child''s carving? Of all the things or nothing at all, why did you leave the wood carving?"


    Orison felt a cold chill. It took a second for the weight of the question to register. The old man might have been the second mummy that had disappeared after the ''night of horrors''. If so, he had been robbed of everything and left with arguably the most worthless item of his whole collection. More so, the old man didn''t look happy about it.


    Since there wasn''t anything that could be done about the past, Orison just answered with plain honesty. "It just felt right. Out of what was left for me by the other one, it made the resting place of the one who was left behind seem a little less sad, a little less final. It''s hard to explain with words."


    The old man chuckled humorlessly before looking bitter. "If we are fated to meet again, I will tell you a story. It is difficult for me to decide which one of us is indebted to the other but there are debts.


    "Before I continue my journey, I will advise the Tong to consider opening their doors to you should you find yourself in need of stronger support. As one who comes from the outside, you know what the fate of this place is. Soon you will know why the gifted do not remain without a society for long."

 106 Crawling Chaos 4

    "Acting all mysterious, raising all kinds of questions and then vanishing with a gust of wind... Considering that it looked like he didn''t know whether to help me or rip my face off, I suppose I''ll count my blessings," Orison muttered as he trudged his way up to Neil''s office for the man''s final verdict.


    Neil was sitting behind his office desk staring at a cheap pair of reader glasses with a kind of bizarre fascination. When Orison walked in, the man''s attention focused on the teenager. Asking Orison to stay where he was, Neil put his cheaters on and then took them off a couple of times.


    Looking at Orison oddly, he said, "What was in that grass soup you left for me?"


    Orison said, "One of the cornerstones of eastern medicine is secrecy in recipe and method. There''s two reasons for that. One is to lower the possibility of competition, both for patients and resources. The second is so that the patients of such concoctions are able to freely live their lives unburdened with the knowledge of what they put into their bodies... Both are equally relevant in why I won''t tell you what was in it."


    Noticing that Neil looked a little green, Orison added, "Whatever you''re imagining is probably worse than the truth. Suffice it to say that in this case, almost all the ingredients were herbal in nature." To himself he thought, "Two of which will be controlled substances in your world''s future and one of which is a deadly poison if not administered with care or more than once every few years."


    Neil read over a messily scrawled list before crumpling it up and tossing it in the trash. "Alright, kiddo. Let''s play it by ear. I got two hard rules that are deal breakers if they aren''t followed... Every cent that goes into your pocket, you earn with honest work. No stealing.


    "I''m not much for lying either. A little white lie might be needed from time to time but you''re going to be pure as driven snow with what you tell me. I need to know where you are and what you''re doing when you''re not here. And since you want me to say you work for me, you will but I''ll keep it light and easy as long as you''re pulling your weight and keeping your nose clean."


    Orison frowned but didn''t immediately lose his temper. "Since you want honesty, I''ll give it to you. I WILL steal from thieves and those who earn their money through harmful methods and I WILL keep it if there''s no direct person who I believe deserves to be reimbursed.


    "I''ll honor the spirit, if not the letter, of letting you know where I am and what I''m doing. The limit of that lays in what is courteous, fair and needful, not beyond. As far as working for you enough to make it truth, I''ve no problem rolling up my sleeves and putting some effort in but I have priorities. As long as what you want done isn''t unreasonable and doesn''t conflict with those priorities, then I''ll do it.


    "I''m aware that what I''m asking of you makes you partially responsible for my actions and will keep that in mind. I''m a cautious person by nature and even if I can''t promise I won''t cause you any grief, I''ll keep it to a minimum. I only have one rule and it''s the good ol'' fashioned golden one. As long as we''re both willing to compromise in the millions of little ways people have to in order to tolerate and enjoy each other''s company, I doubt we''ll have any real concerns."


    Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Explain to me how stealing from criminals is ''cautious'' behavior and I''ll skip over the rest. I don''t think I can handle getting talked circles around and that''s all I think I''d get."


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "In much the same way a private detective can do their job without getting maimed or killed, I would imagine. You calculate the risk and don''t bite off more than you can chew."


    Neil glared at the young mage and said, "That''s a low blow. We''re just chatting here. No need to swing below the belt."


    Sighing, Orison added, "You saw how I handled things in that alley. I did what I could while minimizing the risk to myself. But believe me when I say, when cunning and reason fail, I can speak the language of pain far more fluently than the clowns that beat you. The problem is, the next guy might not be interested in arguing with his fist and just spray a block with bullets to pass on the message. That would be a lot more dangerous and could get other people involved."


    Neil said, "I need a drink."


    Orison said, "No, you need a glass of water and more rest but if you''re not going to kick me out, lets get those papers signed so you can take it easy for a couple of days."


    A few more minutes of bickering saw them in a taxi to the Hall of Records. Orison made quick work of what needed to be done and they were back at Neil''s apartment before the second half of the draught effects kicked in. Fortunately, there was plenty of toilet paper.


    Over the next couple of days, while he did some touch-up work on Neil, the young mage renovated the rather spacious storage closet into a two door bedroom. After making a trip to a couple of pawn shops and a posh jewelry store, Orison paid the bills, stocked the apartment with amenities and even got a used car that he had up and running after some liberal uses of ''mend''. He also made a few extra bucks doing some plumbing and electrical fixes. Frank, the landlord, didn''t give him half of what it would normally cost but since most of it was mend work, Orison just pocketed what he could and didn''t say a word.


    On the third day of ''life with Neil'', Orison was internally griping about how there wasn''t any way to make ''mend'' cheaper. A few casts of the novice ''spell turned ability'' were all it took to reach the edge of what he could recoup in a single day. Conversely, he could keep a five pound capacity telekinetic ''third hand'' going non-stop and perpetually break even. With some effort, he could condense a shield to comfortably past bullet proof or even levitate up to 250 pounds without nosebleeds but his reserves fell with alarming speed.


    A quick calculation gave Orison the guesstimate of a two week tank but if it fell past half, recovery would take a great deal longer the more empty it became. As the young mage adapted more and more to this world, his ability to access supernatural ability was improving but usage would have to remain rather frugal if he didn''t want to be left vulnerable for an extended period of time. Such knowledge only impressed on him the need to maintain his resolve on remaining low key.


    One bright ray of sunshine in all of his internal poking and prodding was the realization that the silk purse digestion was going to lead to the ''breaking'' of his teleportation spell. Transmutation was even showing some additional signs of integration. It made him wonder just what the purse had been used for. Given how much it reeked of malicious intent, it couldn''t have been anything good.


    There was only one change Orison observed that left him concerned and puzzled. Where it seemed like a no-brainer that the purse would strengthen or expand his inner space, it didn''t. Instead, the young mage felt the small bit of spiritual bloodline that Keita had hijacked from Rithus for him, grow deeper and more substantial. The possible consequences and side-effects of such a thing left Orison feeling uneasy.


    Wrapping up his martial and meditative practice, the young mage joined Neil for a relatively late breakfast as the man said, "I never thought of myself as a slouch but when you''re not sitting around like you got a broom up your keister, you really get the lead out."


    Orison said, "It''s called meditation and if you added a little of it to your daily routine and stopped treating your guts as a grease trap, you might actually stay healthy til you''re forty."


    Neil gestured with his fork, "I''m at the prime of my life with the best years ahead of me."


    Orison nodded. "All five of them... I''m telling you, Neil. When I first met you, I thought you were thirty-four or so. I wouldn''t have guessed that you were only twenty-nine. If you don''t change how you treat your body, your going to have a heart attack in a few years... On the subject of your health, yesterday''s ten o'' clock is going to be here in a half hour. I don''t want to know what kind of surveillance she has you do at her house but you''re not cleared for heavy lifting yet and she''s a lot of woman."


    Cleaning up the office had left Orison wondering if being a private detective was just to add a veneer of respectability to Neil being a cheap gigolo for middle aged women. It occurred to him that Neil probably didn''t see it that way but the list of regulars that barely kept his bills paid didn''t seem to be employing him for anything meaningful. Considering how cruel reality had been for the man, Orison just didn''t have it in him to bruise Neil''s fragile ego anymore than it already had been.


    Neil''s ears took on a crimson hue as he stammered out, "The lady puts a lot of good doe into her bird watching hobby. She just wants to know if her feeders are being vandalized by squirrels or neighborhood children."


    Orison said. "Well, you''ve been at this for three years. When you first started, helping lonely older women tend to their bird feeders was probably the only steady work you could get but you''ve done enough leg work to move past that. I don''t know if you have the potential to contend with that Richards guy who works as a police consultant or that Payne fellow who climbed deep into the newspaper''s pocket but you should be able to handle middle ground.


    "If you tell me you''ll put half day house visits for five dollars and a decent dinner on the bottom of your priority list, I''ll get you a couple of bespoke suits, a new camera and an ad in the paper. If you stop treating donuts, coffee, cigarettes and whiskey as your four major food groups, I''ll replace the surveillance equipment I can''t fix. Finally, if you add a morning exercise routine, I''ll let you borrow the car until you can get one of your own. I''ll even give you two months to raise up to half police cadet standards and if you reach full standard by the end of month three, I''ll give you the car."


    Neil looked at Orison and said, "Why?"


    The young mage said, "Slow suicide is painful to watch. Torturing you into a healthier and more successful person is more entertaining. Mostly, I don''t want to get bored and complacent."


    As soon as Orison received a lukewarm and all together unreliable commitment to ''try'', Orison snatched up Neil''s pack of cigarettes and ashtray. Before the detective could even figure out what happened, there was a tin of lozenges and a pack of cinnamon toothpicks in front of him.


    A complaint of ''Now see here!'' was quickly blocked with, "Don''t try. Do or die... I''ll take your word on the first part but the second, surveillance equipment will be considered on loan until you''re a month smoke free and sober. One butt or finger of booze touches your lips in my sight and that deal''s off the table. When you start exercising in three days, you''ll be glad to have that much of a head start.


    "If you start to get tremors or feel like you''ll chew through a table leg if you don''t get a cigarette, take a lozenge. They''ll reduce your cravings for pretty much everything. Don''t chew them and don''t lean on them too much or the next tin will taste how a urinal cake smells."


    "If you give up, I quite hounding you and let you do as you like. I don''t waste time on losers... Hey, take it easy. I don''t think you are one. So don''t prove me wrong."


    "Brat!" Neil growled before grabbing up the lozenges and toothpicks off the table.


    The detective was angry but there was a little something else there too, a light of determination. That light of determination blazed a different hue when Neil came out of his bedroom wearing only a towel and a demon face.


    "Where the hell are all of my clothes!?" Neil all but screamed.


    Orison said blandly, "If it had a hole, sweat stain or cigarette burn on it, probably being sifted through by hobos on Picket Street... Grab a set of whatever you need from the packages on the office couch but leave the rest. They should be cleaned once before worn."


    Nearly hyperventilating through his nose, Neil stormed into the office. On the way back to his bedroom the man looked conflicted but resigned.


    When he came back out in a relatively decent store bought, the detective said, "I don''t know where you got so much money but you need to stop spending it on me. It''s not appropriate. That''s not pride talking. It''s just plain truth."


    Orison sighed and said, "You''re not going to get decent clients dressed in church charity. Public service requires a sharp image and the facade of prosperity. It is no less a requirement of your trade than a handyman''s box of tools. That goes for a fresh notepad and a nice pen among other things. If you feel I''ve spent too much, consider that I feel I only got you the bare necessities and spend some time working out why our opinions differ.


    "If you think I''m being a spendthrift, look at your competitors. Long before they buy state of the art gadgets, they have a closet of presentable suits. Eighty percent of your job is public relations. That should reflect on the percentage of your time and resources spent in that area. Initial investment is the most expensive and aside from work done, you''re not at square one but you''re not that far away from it either."


    Neil squeezed the bridge of his nose and said, "Since I''m expecting a client at any minute, this talk is shelved. That don''t mean it''s done, not by a long shot."


    Orison said, "Then let me say this and I''ll stop taking liberties. I''m trendy, have a car and maintain a white collar image. How badly do I stand out when every visible aspect of my life outshines my employer?... I like you, Neil, but half of my motivation is purely selfish."


    To earn some equilibrium, Orison penned in 200 worth of prepaid consultation and investigative services into Neil''s ledger. Since there wasn''t a single thing that Orison brought in that the detective didn''t actually need or want so badly there was little difference, Neil grudgingly accepted. He also promised hellfire retribution if Orison crossed personal boundaries to that degree again.


    To add some levity back into the stiff atmosphere, Orison ''showcased'' Neil''s favorite shoes and hat that had been saved from elimination, only cleaned and repaired. With a witty comment about ''knowing where the real personal boundaries were'', Neil''s appointment showed up and after offering refreshments, the young mage made himself scarce. As he dipped around the corner, Orison pantomimed lifting the woman and making a big X with his hands. Neil made a dry cough to keep from interrupting his client''s saccharine fawning with a disrespectful snort.


    The young mage''s time didn''t remain free either. After checking in on Mrs. Derby''s progress and Ms. Messier''s emotional state, Orison was approached by a East Village courier with a receipt for goods at Mr. Wei''s shop. On the back of the receipt was a quickly scrawled sketch of a bowman shooting a nondescript animal that was half in a river.


    Stopping in to inform Neil of his trip to the Apothecary, the young mage got roped into being a chauffeur for a few minutes. Seeing that Neil didn''t exactly look unhappy to have an evening with bird feeder lady, Orison reevaluated the situation a little and mentally cut the detective some slack. Apparently, the little bit of money and a task that needed done was a way for both of them to ease the anxiety on what it was really about and it wasn''t nearly as one sided as it seemed to be on paper.


    With a little nudge to move that portion of Neil''s affairs to private life concerns that were none of his business, Orison chucked his cover identity''s issues to the back of his mind. With a switch of focus, Orison prepared himself for whatever ''Jianghu'' wanted with ''Wild Hunt''. After a quick stop at a gas station to change out of civilian clothes, he and the stick shift automobile he was still getting the hang of, made their way to East Village.


    What he hadn''t considered was the difficulty of finding a place to park once he got there. Being the middle of the day, there were plenty of cars on the street and little room for more. Finding himself walking two blocks despite having driven there, Orison wasn''t in the greatest of moods when he walked through Mr. Wei''s doors.


    The fresh faced young woman looked up from where two other male residents of East Village were asking over goods in the display case with less than honorable motives, being that everything they were asking about were on the bottom shelf. Orison wondered why the woman was tolerating it when he noticed that the light harassment was being accompanied by actual purchases. With studied patience, the woman rang them up and saw them out the door before turning to Orison.


    In a familiar annoyed voice, she said, "You couldn''t get here faster? Because of your visit, I had to wear this dress instead of my normal smock. Have some courtesy for those of us that actually work during the day."

 107 Crawling Chaos 5

    The congenial face Orison had plastered on, slid off. "Oh, so the arrow in the animal''s rear end was to warn me that you would be the greeter. I need to brush up on my ability to read subtle clues in pictures."


    Mr. Wei came from the office and said, "If the local boys catch you flirting with my niece, they may cause you grief."


    Blandly, Orison said, "Please enlighten an ignorant guest as to what part of my interaction could be misconstrued as flirting so I never do it again."


    Refusing to acknowledge her uncle''s comment in any way, the young woman walked off as if she hadn''t heard anything.


    Mr. Wei gestured to his back room and explained, "Politeness isn''t just an act of courtesy, Orison. It is also a way of showing distance. A man being rude to a lady signifies familiarity. This isn''t something unique to us."


    Orison chewed on the flavors of truth in the statement as he followed Mr. Wei down into an underground tunnel. "Am I under or overdressed for whatever this is? I was under the impression that a person who enjoys traversing the rivers and lakes wanted to speak to me."


    Mr. Wei stopped walking and turned to look at Orison. "My I see what she has sent you."


    Orison handed over the receipt. A few moments later, the older man laughed and placed the receipt in his pocket.


    Mr. Wei began leading the way again as he said, "I fear that she was intentionally being misleading to encourage your hasty arrival. She is known to answer ''gazing at the reflections on the water''s surface''. I believe that was supposed to be a qilin looking at it''s own distorted reflection and the hunter who has invited misfortune on himself for injuring it."


    Orison muttered to himself, "Dusting her with her own sneak attack is hardly injuring her."


    At the end of the tunnel was a large bronze door. Emblazoned upon it was a fierce dragon whose mouth held a metal knocker the size of a wine barrel ring.


    Mr. Wei raised and lowered the knocker in an irregular pattern a few times before he turned to Orison and said, "This is as far as I can go. I''ve often wondered what lied beyond the veil of darkness on the other side."


    The young mage said, "Likely more darkness, just of a different kind."


    Mr. Wei shivered as if he had caught a chill and said, "I hope more than that. Those who call this place their own are all that stand between us and the end of all things."


    Orison thought to himself. "That''s a tall order of bull crap at face value. Then again, Mr. Wei''s ''us'' might be very selective."


    While the young mage batted around how much of the game he found himself playing in was he willing to endure before walking away, the bronze door opened to darkness. As Orison peered through it with spirit sight, an instinctual feeling told him that the darkness was dangerous, just not to him. It was a feeling that rose up from his marrow and vibrated through his being subtly.


    Orison sighed and muttered to himself, "So that''s what Rithus meant when he was always going on about the shadow in his bones. What an unsettling feeling."


    Shaking his head, Orison walked through the cold, damp, lightless veil. Once he was through the other side, there was an elderly gentleman holding out a blanket to him. To keep the poor man from hurting himself, Orison took the blanket from the man''s arms and tried to thank the old man before realizing that the elderly gentleman didn''t speak the language his boundary baptism provided. It was the first time that Orison was even consciously aware that boundary crossings did such a thing and it made him wonder what else got ''added in'' during such events.


    The old man may not have been able to understand Orison''s words but wasn''t clueless to the possible meaning and smiled encouragingly. Lacking any better way, Orison draped the blanket over his arm and gave the old man the bow for elders. For some reason Orison was stopped but the old man''s smile turned up several watts.


    An imperious man''s voice said, "That was a taste of the veil between us and the great enemy. Do well to-"


    As the well dressed and groomed middle aged eastern man came into the room and noticed that Orison seemed to be none the worse for wear, the man stopped whatever speech he had readied.


    After a faint pause, the man said, "You can leave the blanket on the bench to your right. Since you don''t need time to recover, follow me."


    Folding the blanket neatly, Orison laid it on the stone bench and cupped his hands to the old man before turning to follow the new arrival. Something about the middle age man rubbed Orison the wrong way. The well groomed Asian man seemed to project that all who stood in his presence should automatically respect and pay homage to him.


    As much as the young mage hoped he was wrong, such people tended to measure others in their value of use only. It reminded him of Emir. That made him wary and distrustful. Thankfully, they didn''t have far to go and the other figures in the room remained hidden in shadows for the most part. Once the man Orison had taken an instinctual disliking to had joined the rest, a beam of light illuminated a bowling ball sized pearl resting on a cushioned pedestal.


    The voice of the arrogant acting man said, "Step forward and touch the pearl. Have a care not to move it or press too hard. The consequences would be dire."


    Not moving from the spot he stood, Orison asked, "Why?"


    The man''s voice said, "You need not know, just do as you are told."


    Eyes shaking from a shot of adrenaline, Orison managed to hold his tongue. The training and meditative guidance Pelenel had given granted him that much but the core of rage was still there, only more tightly controlled.


    Orison projected an icy lack of emotion he far from felt as he said, "On the contrary. I do need to know or I will not do as I am told."


    The imperious man''s voice boomed from the shadows, "Then leave the way you''ve come! We are done here."


    Without thinking twice, Orison sharply spun on his heels and walked out.


    An older woman''s voice that was no less demanding said, "Wait!"


    The young mage continued as if he hadn''t heard her. Oddly, no one stopped him as he made his way back to the dark veil of a doorway. The ''shadow in his bones'' told him that the way back would be discomforting but still not dangerous. It suddenly made some sense why they might not have sent someone after him, relying on the veil to either deter, punish or maybe even kill him for all he could really guess.


    The slight pause at the veil was enough time for Orison to notice the look of sad longing on the old man''s face. It wasn''t directed at him but the veil. On an impulse he had a difficult time understanding, Orison wrapped the man in his hooded cloak and wrapped his aura around them both. With the additional burden, he could feel that the veil would become something more than discomforting but chose to do it anyway.


    With one last look at the old man''s face to make sure he wasn''t doing something against the elderly gentleman''s will, finding only grim resolution, the young mage knelt down so the man could latch onto his back in as much of a dignified manner available. As Orison stepped through the veil, there was a gasp of shock coming from further behind him. What the person''s reason was for being there would remain a mystery because Orison faced a pain not much less intense than his boundary baptism but he was required to walk which made it just as unbearable.


    Though it was only a few dozen steps, the only thing that kept Orison on his feet towards the end was the sure knowledge that if he fell or even staggered roughly, the old man on his back would be exposed to the veil and die. Once he had made it to the other side, he knelt back down as slowly as he could but even relieved of the weight on his back, Orison''s knees gave out and they hit the floor with a jarring thud. Eyes blurry and shaking like a leaf, palsied hands trying vainly to lift him back up gave him the resolution to collect his thoughts enough to access a bit of stored essence in his body.


    Relying on the gnarled fingers gripping his arm, Orison let the old man lead him back down the tunnel. Close to the end of which, a set of stronger hands took over and guided him the rest of the way. The stairs were a form of torture themselves but the velvet couch cushions that he was lead to afterwards made the extra effort worth it. The last thing he remembered before passing out was the ominous growl of Nibbles and the deep baritone voice of Herne issuing a warning Orison wasn''t cognizant enough to understand.


    Snapping back to consciousness a few minutes later, the young mage began assessing what had affected him so deeply. His body was sickly pale with a faint grayish hue. Within his space, dense compact granules of black crystal peppered the larger one that filled the entirety of his space''s unoccupied area. There was a subtle sense that his space would have ruptured if not for the intensity of the uniform pressure that had forced the inert spirit essence into him while he was in the veil. It very likely still would rupture if he didn''t get Herne and Nibbles back into the dangerously tested boundary of his mini plane.


    The young mage said, "Herne, you and Nibbles need to head back. I can''t take in any more junk essence or I''m going to split open."


    When he looked around him, Orison saw that aside from Mr. Wei and his niece there was also two others. One man looked friendly enough but the other looked openly hostile and ready to attack at the slightest reason.


    The hostile one said, "He may seem to be fine but one look can attest that he has lost too much vitality. He could transform into one of the lost at any moment. There is no need to take risks for an outsider."


    Orison said, "Only the surface has. My core vitality has been damaged but I''m far from death''s door. If I can meditate without having to worry about someone trying to poke holes in me, I''ll recover from corpse to cholera survivor in about an hour."


    Mr. Wei spoke up to keep the hostile man from spewing any more vitriol. "I''ll verify his claim, second brother," After examining Orison a bit, he added, "It''s true. I don''t exactly know how but the majority of exposure to the shadow tide was kept to the surface. Without any treatment, he could easily live to see thirty."


    Instead of reducing the ''second brother''s hostility, the only thing that kept the man from attacking Orison was the other man that was with him.


    "Release me, third brother! This menace is no friend to the Tong. After surviving, he''ll only grow stronger and become a greater threat," The man said, redness showing through his tawny skin.


    Anger poking through dull and sluggish senses, Orison said, "Why? Because I wouldn''t kiss your leaders'' collective asses? I''m not an employee, subordinate or family member. By what right does your tong possess the authority to demand blind obedience from me? I only asked why I needed to touch the pearl and I would have done what I was asked after being offered an explanation."


    The man nearly exploded in rage. "You were offered an honor that no Westerner has been given since the founding of the tongs and you spit on that honor. You deserve death for your disrespect!"


    Orison retorted, "I didn''t even know why the hell I had been called for. No one even asked me if I wanted to join. Or did you just assume that I would jump at the chance? Let me save you some trouble. I''m not interested in offering anyone blind obedience...ANYONE!


    "I''ll tell you what. Bow down before me and fondle my pearls. I''ll let you join the f***ing Lollipop Guild. What? You won''t do it? You deserve death for your disrespect... See how f***ing ludicrous that sounds? Probably not, you brainwashed puppet."


    Using some telekinesis, Orison rose to his feet and ignored the swirl of dizziness, allowing his sub-mind to handle technicalities. "I apologize for bringing this chaos into your home, Mr. Wei. Should I be worried for the safety of the old man I brought back?"


    Before Mr. Wei could say anything, the hostile man said, "No need to concern yourself over our family''s affairs, white dev-"


    The man who had been holding him back until that moment finally had something to say and he did it with a fist. ''Second Brother'' had been knocked out.


    The familiar voice of ''river and lake'' said, "The man you brought back with you is our father. He had been stuck on the other side of the gate playing steward for the last twenty years due to no one being willing or able to help him return. I and First Brother are deeply grateful for his return."


    Unwilling to stick around Orison said, "Despite my small tiff, I''m still willing to be a helpful visitor as long as the Tong doesn''t treat me as an enemy."


    ''Jianghu'' replied, "That will be no problem. The Long family members are custodians of another gate far from here and I am the discipline elder of ours... Far from being offended, the leader of our gate was impressed by your willful act and bravery... He may not be willing to offer a hand of friendship yet but he''s willing to extend some acceptance.


    With sub-mind offering minute corrects, Orison started making his way to the door with moderate dignity.


    As if suddenly knocked from personal thought''s Mr. Wei said, "Let me see you out, Orison."


    Once out of eye and ear shot of anyone observable, Mr. Wei handed Orison a rosewood box. "It''s far short of making up for what you lost but there is so little vitality restoratives left in the world."


    Orison took a quick peek in the box before closing it quickly and using precious magic reserves to seal and lock it. Among the mundane selection and high end dredge ingredients inside were a fine clipping of whisker-like ginseng roots that were well preserved. The small peek he took had made them lose a noticeable portion of their potent, if meager in volume, vital essence.


    Orison said, "I recognize how generous of a gift this is. So much so that I would reject it if my need for items of their nature wasn''t far beyond a simple healing of the damage to my longevity. If you have some ten year or higher preserved ginger, royal jelly and some virgin beeswax, I''ll try my best to return a spring for the drop of water you''re giving me now. I''ll need some time, though."


    Mr. Wei said, "You... A cold dan recipe!? What are your chances of success?... Sorry, sorry... I was only flustered for a moment... I only would need a day at most for the ginger, the other two I can get now."


    Orison unconsciously wobbled a little. "If there''s a reliable driver you know, I have one additional small favor. I don''t think it''s such a good idea for me to take myself home and Detective Neil needs to be picked up tomorrow morning. They could use the car for any personal needs until they return it with the ginger tomorrow evening."


    The middle aged man nodded and walked with purpose back to his shop as Orison poured himself into the passenger side of his own car after a grueling walk. Unwilling to trust his environment, until he was home, Orison planned on staving off resting trance. When a familiar argumentative young woman sat in the driver''s seat and asked him for his keys, Orison simply handed them over with a mumbled ''thank you''.


    Somewhere along the way back to the apartment, Orison managed to relay the address of where Neil was but didn''t remember much after that. The next morning, his sub-mind informed him that once his reserves hit the point where regeneration would begin slowing down, it had canceled telekinesis and relied on the young woman to get them the rest of the way to bed. Flashes of being princess carried by her didn''t affect him much but the sub-mind''s reluctant flash of how he had called her mom in his delirium had him vainly hope they''d never meet again.


    After running through a round of meditation and blending up a medicinal smoothie for himself and the detective, Orison left a note for Neil and headed back for bed. Broken from his second round of half trance meditation by Neil''s return, Orison attempted to reestablish his empty mind state when there was a knock on his hallway door. When he opened it, he saw the last person he wanted to see at the moment.


    Maintaining a neutral face, Orison said, "I hope the reflection in the water reveals some aged ginger."


    The young woman smiled and said, "Don''t worry. I, your mother, am a reliable person. Detective, car and goods are delivered in the condition which they were received."


    Wanting to cut off the burning ears that betrayed his poker face, Orison kept in mind what Mr. Wei had said about rudeness indicating familiarity. "Thank you Ms. Wei. Here is some cab fare and reasonable compensation for your efforts on my behalf. Do you require a cab called? I can provide some refreshments while you wait as well."


    The young woman gave a saucy smirk at Orison''s attempts to blow off her comment.


    Taking the offered money, she said, "No need, my son. I have other business in the area."


    Taking a deep breath through his nose, Orison said, "Please give my regards to your uncle. If that''s all, since I''m unwell, I won''t see you out."


    Finished, Orison closed the door with measured, polite speed.


    Evil glee in her voice, the young woman said through the door, "Drink plenty of fluids and get your rest, unfilial brat."


    Simmering, Orison sat on his bed and muttered, "You win round two but you better hope there''s not a round three. It will be one hell of a tie breaker. I promise."

 108 Crawling Chaos 6

    In a fascinating twist of irony, having such a dense and copious amount of black spirit crystal allowed Herne and his animal companions the ability to tunnel a hole through it. They managed to reach fairly close to the eternium formation without being exposed to the life and soul hostile nature of Orison''s inner space. It vexed the young mage to no end that there was no way for him to manipulate the black crystal until it was processed in some way by his space and charged with a little vitality.


    Even if he had the extra vitality to waste, which he didn''t, removing claimed crystal would result in almost the same amount of new inert crystal entering at the same time. What was taken out would evaporate into the air, taking whatever investment of vitality it contained along with it. In some ways, the entire dying world around him was a greater example of his sickly mini plane.


    That realization hit Orison like a ton of bricks. With a shell of inert spirit essence crystal to surround his formation, it''s orbits and his mini plane, it could even theoretically house life. With some creative effort and a lot of time, more than just spiritual existences could live on the plane. Although Orison was far from ready to work on such a project, it did give him a vague direction and another use for the substance.


    Before he got too excited, Orison decided to have Herne escort in the box of ginseng whiskers and other items he''d be using to make the medicinal pellets with. Sacrificing the smallest whisker for planting, Orison created a ''firefly'' sprite to tend it. Being a semi-spiritual existence, the whisker''s vitality would allow it to regrow itself into a full plant with time and external healing. If Orison''s ideas about the insulating properties of the black crystal held true, it meant that he could potentially raise hearty plants as long as they were at least partly spiritual in nature. After all, the condensed eternium might serve the purpose of a sun to spiritual plants but actual photosynthesis was outside it''s current ability.


    When and if his plane ever became big enough to support a self sufficient complex biome, those semi-spiritual flora would aid to kick start it. With that thought rolling, Orison started imagining algae crusted ponds teeming with fry. Before his thoughts lead him into areas that wouldn''t be viable for who knows how long, a knock on his bedroom''s office-side door interrupted him.


    When Orison opened the door, he was greeted by a sore but satisfied looking Neil. "Wow, kiddo. You look like something the cat dragged in. Did you go out and have a bender the very night you told me to lay off the sauce? That''s not very sportsman like... I mean, you''re too young to be doing that. You''re going to stunt your growth."


    Orison said blandly, "Hardly. I was accidentally exposed to a harmful substance while trying to pull an old man from death''s door. I''m not in any danger now but it''ll be a day or two until I''m my old self again. It''s just a little minor jaundice and mild anemia for the most part. I managed to keep the effects mostly surface contact."


    Neil frowned. "If running around with that East Village quack is that dangerous, I don''t know if you should keep doing it."


    Insulted on Mr. Wei''s behalf, Orison was quick to point out how ''quack'' medicine was why Neil wasn''t resting in a hospital with bills the detective would be spending the rest of his short life trying to pay. The young mage was also quick to say that it was his own choice and as far as he was concerned, giving a kind old man a few years to enjoy with his family was worth it.


    With a knowing look, Neil said, "You get hurt showing off to that little chickadee who gave me a lift back here in our car? What was her name, Little Ying Ying?"


    Orison said darkly, "It''s Ying Yue, Mr. Wei''s niece. And if she was even a hair''s width more obnoxious, you couldn''t pay me to stand in the same room as her..."


    Neil chuckled. "I''m telling you, kiddo. If she''s under your skin, she''s halfway to your heart."


    Orison snorted. "Only if she''s holding a knife."


    Neil smiled wider and threw his hands up in surrender. "Methinks you protest too much but what do I know?"


    Giving an evil smile back, the young mage said, "Then let me change the subject. Now that a certain lady''s bird feeder is squirrel free and refilled, let me clarify some things. That wine stain on your shirt and the subtle hint of tobacco about you means that the letter of our arrangement is more important to you than the spirit. I''m not going to be an a** about it but I just want you to know that the spirit is more important to me than the letter.


    "I''m not going to go ballistic as long as you''re trying but have a moment of weakness. I will if you try to lawyer it because that defeats the purpose. That said, as long as you are putting in your time on whatever good work you get, I''ll mind my own business on your, uh, regulars. It occurred to me that I might have crossed a line there."


    During Orison''s dress down, Neil shifted from angry to awkward and then embarrassed. "That''s... I hear you. If a dame offers me a drink I''m taking it, though. Them''s just the rules, kid."


    Orison nodded and said, "Yeah but refusing a second or a refill isn''t impolite. As long as you''re not asking for the unavoidable first one, I can accept that. Don''t add holding a pack of cigarettes for clients to that list of rules. Offering a cinnamon toothpick or stick of gum in sympathy is just as good in it''s ability to ingratiate, the rest is not much more than self enabling."


    Neil unconsciously ran a hand over his suit''s jacket pocket and sighed. It might have been a bitter pill to swallow from a teenager but the detective wasn''t actually that against turning his life around. Bad habits were just hard to break.


    Neil tossed the pack into the trash with one last look of passing regret and said, "Let''s talk about that witch''s brew in the fridge. I don''t feel like sitting on the throne for half a day again."


    Orison shrugged. "I can''t say it won''t send you to do some private reading but it''s not even in the same ballpark as the first one. That one was trying to get out what three years of abuse put in your body. This time''s mostly an effort to put back in you what three years of poor nutrition and drinking took out."


    The first couple of days were the hardest. Getting Neil on a schedule and radical changes to diet had Orison carefully picking his battles to keep from pushing the detective too far. On day three when the detective was cleared to start exercising and started getting a couple of gigs from the newspaper ad, the outward focus of Neil''s newfound but irritable energy had more positive outlets to pour themselves into.


    As fairly recovered as he was going to get without external assistance, Orison turned to his own projects. The initial and most important of which were dan making. Out of eleven attempts to create medicinal pellets out of the ginseng whiskers and their supporting ingredients, only five were a complete success. The first four botched attempts weren''t a complete waste, however. The escaped vital essence was captured by the mustard seed bracelet before it could disappear into the gaping maw of surrounding black crystal and the dregs were given to the recovering ginseng whisker.


    One attempt was wasted to idiocy when Orison removed his first success from his space without any kind of magical seal or protective container, allowing the ever present inert spirit essence to suck the vital essence right through the wax coating. The remaining failure wasn''t so much a waste as embarrassingly lacking. He took it with the ''good'' one he used for himself. Of the four remaining successes, He sent two to Mr. Wei, reserved one for Neil and kept the last for an emergency.


    He felt a little guilty about the final result he''d sent back to the apothecary but considering that the whiskers were all but useless in the hands of someone without supernatural abilities to keep their properties safe while handling and ingesting, it hadn''t been that bad of a trade. For a normal, healthy person the dan would shave a couple of years off someone''s age while adding a couple more to the end. For an unhealthy mundane, it was practically a panacea but it couldn''t directly do anything about toxins, viral or bacterial infections that were still present.


    For a person who''d taken inert essence into their physical body or been attacked and somehow survived a creature made from said essence, it was a miracle drug. Not only did it heal them of vitality damage but it could ''activate'' lingering inert essence, strengthening the body and enriching their gift or awakening one if it was present but latent. The note he sent with the medicinal pellets explained that but Orison hoped Mr. Wei wouldn''t pass on the message and explained as much at the end, even if he wouldn''t really hold it against the apothecary. It was likely that some medicine makers within their circle already knew about it but if it became common knowledge, there would be negative consequences.


    Sadly, for Orison, the ''miracle drug'' wasn''t that miraculous. It might have galvanized his body a little but there was so much inert essence in his space that any spillover was lost to the vast glacier of ''null'' that crammed his inner space to engorged hopelessness. That wouldn''t be the case forever. With every day that went by, his eternium formation was growing an imperceptible amount faster, a few more grains of five colored earth were produced than the day before and another set of spirit grass sprouts were a millimeter closer to maturity.


    Assuming that the world around him stayed just how it was, Orison felt like he''d reach a tipping point in six or seven months where instead of wanting to leave as soon as possible, he''d be staying as long as he could. There was zero chance of that happening. Every instinct and logical conclusion was telling him that this world was on a greased slide to the abyss and every day saw it picking up a little more speed.


    With one project done, it was time to turn to another. The young mage studied the crystal capsule. Early on, he had noticed that the unlocking mechanism was on the wrong side. The key to opening it probably shared a similarly strange way of accessing that mechanism. The original method may not be available to him but he saw a different way, divestment. Cracking it open would be a difficult task but even if he could, it would be like setting off a nuke. The only safe way would be to leech away it''s ability to be extra-dimensional. Once unfolded into 3D, the items inside would would be capable of transitioning fairly safely inside his space.


    There were a few options available to get that done but the safest one for the moment was discovered by accident. Once, during his frustration of trying to figure out a cheat or loophole to exploit only to end up mentally running circles around himself for a few hours, he had thrown the capsule back onto the mini plane. Startled by the capsule landing beside it, Nibbles picked the crystal up in its mouth and started chewing on it.


    Orison wasn''t concerned that Nibble''s jaws were strong enough to forcefully crack it open and kill them all so he just watched. Although it was only a minute amount, Nibbles actually divested the surface of some of it''s tightly woven energy. After that, the hunting hound treated it like a toy and would wallow the capsule around in its mouth when it got bored. Since Nibble''s play served the dual purpose of weakening the protection layer of the capsule and kept the hound from play hunting the firefly sprite that was taking care of the ginseng, he let it be. Orison figured that if the hound kept at it long enough, maybe only one more boundary crossing would weaken the capsule enough to be opened safely instead of two.


    A few days into his capsule experiments and study, Orison finished ''digesting'' the silk purse. With the breaking of his teleportation magic, a small but significant change occurred. The subtle whisper that had been resonating form his marrow cut off in dead silence the moment it happened. After some self examination and reflection, Orison came to the conclusion that the intuitive side to the secondary spiritual bloodline had been overwhelmed by the mechanical and practical applications of dimensional concepts. In short, his concepts favored rational knowledge over mysticism and choked out the inner voice.


    As far as the young mage was concerned, not having the ''shadow in his bones'' was a good thing. There was a manipulative quality to it that didn''t sit well. His biggest reason for feeling that way was the ''impulse'' in it. There was no explanation, just a sudden drive to do something that didn''t make sense until later if at all. Even if everything it drove him to do was completely for his own benefit, it still forced him on a path not of his own choosing and that wasn''t something Orison could tolerate in the long term.


    Without the need for testing or experimentation, the young mage knew that teleportation in this world would be dangerous, as every adjoining space to it was filled with little more than dangerously dense inert spirit essence and whatever anti-creatures that dwelt in it. Just a little time later, Orison had discovered that transmutation wasn''t particularly welcomed by this world and the only uses that wouldn''t eat through his reserves too alarmingly was actually due to the black crystal which could be changed to gas capable of producing moisture, carbon or iron. That could be further controlled to only produce breathable air, water or refined carbon and iron at a days worth of reserve every few seconds.


    The young mage was neither overjoyed or disappointed with the results. On one hand, he had hoped for more. But on the other, transmutation was only a theoretical concept which barely did more than make his space more adaptable or aid with the reproduction of some spells that had never really been that ''cheap'' to use.


    Nearly three weeks in, Orison humorously found himself thinking about more mundane matters as he picked up some slack for Neil on easy solve side business. Until the detective had a chance to ingrain some good habits, the young mage hadn''t wanted to stress Neil out or let the detective have excuses to skip morning exercise with busy work. That trend had eaten into the mage''s own private and free time.


    Fortunately, a few decent paydays later, an academy blacklist with a similar story to Neil''s own of having tried to apply the law to a city untouchable, came to work as a part-timer. Since the mid twenties man never stepped foot in the office and was only a freelancer Neil passed ''small potato'' gigs to, Orison didn''t even bother with learning the name. Same went for the professionally pleasant and completely bland personality secretary that was hired a few days later to man phones and do the paperwork.


    The young mage hadn''t really involved himself in Neil''s work overly much outside of a supporting role and avoided the office during business hours entirely. By the end of the fourth week, his involvement in Neil''s affairs was becoming more and more hands off as the detective became far more personally interested and invested in self improvement without a ''smelly brat'' goading him. Orison would have credited the sudden increase in younger and prettier clientele as the main culprit but in truth, Neil was starting to enjoy the fruits of his labor and had become a little privately narcissistic.


    The middle of week five saw several laid ground works finally reaching a satisfactory ripening. Orison felt fully recovered and conditioned to the world he was in. Neil had reached the baseline of fitness and self defense capabilities to not be a complete liability in slightly risky endeavors. But most importantly, his time and effort spent with Ms. Derby had reached close to its grand payout.


    The woman had reached a point where her ''fast food'' model was growing past her ability to handle. Even with the extra help she had hired, her business had grown beyond her managerial and even intellectual capacity to compensate for as an independent responsible for all aspects. With a patent pending on the fast food model, Orison innocuously maneuvered a few big business types to investigate Mrs. Derby and in a whirlwind shark romance, the first round winner between the ''buy out specialists'' almost hoodwinked the poor lady into selling out for 10,000 and a name holder.


    Unaware of how she had become somewhat reliant on Orison''s easy offered solutions, Mrs. Derby threw it all out on the table to the teenager and Orison was more than happy to sit beside her at the negotiation table. The next day, the investment shark that had expected a fat lamb faced a dragon among men. Two days later, Mrs. Derby hung her grease stained apron up with 50,000 in the bank and a ten percent profit share for twenty years in a natal franchise chain named after her.


    Alice had laughed when Orison said he''d take a twenty percent commission on anything over 20,000 or a maximum 10,000. She wasn''t laughing when she was standing at the bank teller with him, however. Out of her settlement of 75k, Orison got his max commission and in a surprising turn of altruism, Mrs. Darby gave each shift''s lead waitress and evening cook 5000 apiece.


    Unlike with Mrs. Darby, Orison''s development plans in Ms. Messier and her ''accidental'' discovery of sweat resistant makeup and waterproof mascara had spiraled completely out of his control. Smiley''s attempted theft of the pending patents and Ms. Messier''s inexplicable ''real'' whirlwind romance that came in the shape of a five year widowed CEO from ''The Big Apple'' had trashed the young mage''s plans. Fortunately for Ms. Messier, her new beau was a high ranking ''Mason''. Unfortunately for Orison, he ''pinged'' on the man''s radar.

 109 Crawling Chaos 7

    Orison assessed the situation he found himself in. Across from him sat Mr. Carter, a high ranking member of the Masons. The man had ''invited'' the young mage to a dinner at the only five star restaurant in town to discuss fair compensation for his involvement in the discovery of Ms. Messier''s invention. Both of them knew it was bullsh*t but observance of niceties was at least a margin better than other possibilities.


    Cutting viciously into a steak that was more red than pink, Mr. Carter said, "Are you a shepherd or a wolf, Mr. Cantrip?"


    Orison stared down at the steamed fish that was tragically able to stare back at its current angle on the plate.


    Refusing to be intimidated by the dead aquatic life form, the young mage stabbed off a forkful and washed it down with a sip of white wine. "Neither, but I sympathize with the shepherd and pity the wolf. They are only enemies of necessity because they can''t understand each other. It''s a common problem with many groups who compete over limited resources or find themselves in conflict due to fundamentally flawed narrow mindsets."


    Mr. Carter smiled in a way that managed to be intimidating without being threatening. "Alright, my idealist friend. If you don''t like my analogy, what do you consider yourself to be in the grand scheme of things?"


    Orison stubbornly took another bite despite the milky eye of condemnation staring up at him. "I''d like to believe I am a mirror to the world. Sometimes I''m a little softer and flattering to what I reflect and sometimes I''m overly contrasting and harsh but I try my best to interpret what''s presented to me with at least relative clarity. I don''t particularly care to be idealistic or fatalistic. I don''t care for overly pessimistic or optimistic points of view either. I''d claim to be a realist but that would be a lie when reality defies explanation and clear definition at every new revelation."


    Mr. Carter grimaced. "That''s about the dopiest and most non-committal hogwash I''ve had the displeasure of being subjected to in quite some time... Like to believe. Not this. Not that... So far, all I''ve really heard is that you''re nothing. Obviously you''re here, capable of taking up space. That makes you something, even if it''s an eyesore. Grow a spine and take a stance I can make something of."


    The young mage sighed and put down his fork, all appetite gone. "I sound non-committal because that''s what I want to be. I don''t want to commit to you or a society, especially not this world. I want to be a transient passing through, barely noticed, easily forgotten. That''s obviously an unrealistic desire but there you have it, a stance you can finally make something of."


    Mr. Carter stared at Orison with steely gray eyes as he chewed a nearly raw piece of steak with determined zeal before he swallowed it and said, "While we talk, my assistant is drawing up a sizable offer for your detective to investigate a missing person''s case just a few miles north of here. Feel free to do as you like but don''t expect him to come back if you don''t help him."


    Orison gave a saintly smile in return. "Don''t expect him to be going."


    Mr. Carter said, "That''s the only unacceptable outcome. You can choose to abandon him, accompany him or do anything but keep him from going. Since you won''t reveal your colors, we have to test you. Whatever you choose, as long as you don''t bare fangs at us, we won''t hunt you down."


    Standing up, Orison said with a cold face, "Apathy is the deadliest threat in this world, literally. We are surrounded by, steeped in and crushed under an immense, immeasurable amount of it. I may not have the collateral to bare my fangs at the Masons but your actions have earned my apathy. By itself, it''s next to nothing. But in these dark days, hate is preferable."


    With a weak wave of suggestion for everyone to look anywhere but at him, Orison switched out the dress suite he had been wearing for his ''armor'' using his space directly. As Mr. Carter looked up from his wrist watch and focused back on Orison with surprised anger, the young mage turned sharply away and walked out, the tail of his feather light over-robe drifting like a dark cloud behind him.


    Barely within the young mage''s hearing, Mr. Carter snorted. "Apathy, my a**. If that was apathy then what''s his anger look like, a screaming tantrum on the floor?"


    A baritone voice whispered in Mr. Carter''s ear, "Thine play serves my lord''s will, merely sooner than desired. Tis pity that my lord did not bare fang. Nothing thrills mine blood greater than a hunt."


    With a gaze from Mr. Carter, seven other patrons at the restaurant activated a magic circle on the floor but nothing was trapped or revealed by it. Outside, Orison moved along as if he didn''t have a care in the world but internally he was seething. Determined to fake it until he could make it, he kept the the emotionless facade all the way to his car and the first few blocks from the restaurant until he burst out with a string of cursing that tested the limit of his vulgar creativity.


    By the time that Orison came stomping into the detective''s office, it was nearly seven o'' clock, almost two hours after it closed. Ignoring the faint sounds of a woman being vigorously entertained coming through the closed door to the kitchen from Neil''s bedroom, the young mage walked over to the desk to see the standard contract and non-disclosure agreement sitting there. There wasn''t anything fishy about the contract itself.


    The amount offered and ''per diem'' allotted for daily needs were generous but not to a suspicious degree. If not for the location Neil was being sent to, Orison would have cleared the contract as a huge opportunity for the detective to garner notice from the elite. Because it was past the border of what belonged to the ''others'', he wanted to rip it up and say ''be damned, the consequences'' but after a second thought, it represented an opportunity.


    Orison had already begun batting around the idea of how to broach the topic of the supernatural world with the detective. Depending on how the conversation went, the young mage would find an opportunity to expose Neil to a light risk amount of inert essence and feed the man a dan to see how THAT went. If it went well, or at least didn''t scare Neil off, Orison would explain what he was up to and let the detective make informed choices along the way rather than continuing to covertly groom the man to be his backup.


    While the young mage was organizing his thoughts, Neil poked his head out of the door to the kitchen.


    Seeing the teenager, he whispered, "Think you could clear out for a few minutes?"


    The sound of a shower turning on echoed out from behind him.


    Looking sheepish, distracted and building up a little renewed interest, Neil added, "Make that another hour?"


    Orison waved the contract and said, "No problem but don''t wear yourself out to the point we can''t talk about some important things before you call it a day."


    Hardly listening, the man responded, "Sure thing, kid."


    Considering the issue resolved, Neil closed the door. Not wanting to turn accidental eavesdropping into intentional, Orison hurriedly finished his business in the office and gathered a few things from his room. Unfortunately, he wasn''t quick enough to avoid being exposed to far more graphic sounds, as the shower was just on the other side of his bedroom wall. An uncomfortable truth rose up to remind Orison how long it had been since he had tended to sensitive private matters.


    For a half second, Orison was tempted to take advantage of the free radio broadcast to handle business but common sense asserted how difficult it would be to face Neil later if he did. Hitting himself with a frigid casting of ''Degree Shift'', the young mage quickly but silently made his way out. After running off three boys not too far from his own visible age with a dollar apiece bribe, Orison didn''t have the face to even stay in the building.


    With money burning holes in their pockets, the boys from the building begged Orison to take them to the ''park'' which was code to take them to the penny arcade with pinball machines that didn''t have too bad of a reputation nearby. The parents knew but Orison had built a solid reputation in the building and being that the kids would be out of their hair but not roaming the streets, the two families they came from were all too happy to consent. Needing a relatively wholesome distraction himself, Orison obliged. An hour later, Orison brought back the ''three J''s and made his way to Neil''s office.


    When the young mage walked in, Neil was staring at the wall in the kitchen. Lost in fond recall, Neil sprawled on his chair in lazy satisfaction, clad in nothing but boxers and overheated boldness. Absentmindedly, Orison noted that Neil''s physical fitness level was shaping up even faster than the young mage originally predicted. It suddenly occurred to him that under that three years of empty calorie gut was a relatively active person who wasn''t a stranger to military style discipline. He made a mental note to start looking for another car because he would likely be handing the keys of his current one over to Neil soon.


    Sighing, Orison sat in the other chair and said, "It''s almost eighty degrees in here. Why didn''t you turn on the swamp cooler?"


    Neil snapped out of his reverie and said, "It, uh, fell out of the window."


    Eyebrows raising, the young mage said, "I put two safety brackets on it... You know what, never mind. I''m sure there''s a story I don''t want to hear in there somewhere."


    The detective eyed Orison''s ''turtleneck shirt''. "I''m sure there''s a story behind black long sleeves in a sweltering apartment too."


    Orison smiled. "Thanks for the lead in. We''ll get back to that in a moment... Please tell me that the guest you were entertaining was from anywhere besides accompanying Mr. Carter''s assistant."


    Defensively, Neil said, "What does that have to do with anything?"


    Smile taking a razor''s edge, Orison replied, "Because I had a most unpleasant dinner with Mr. Carter earlier and now I have to have an awkward conversation with you that I wasn''t ready to have yet... Do you know anything about the Masons, Neil?"


    The frown that was already building from Mr. Carter''s name being brought up, quickly congealed into a scowl. "Since I doubt you''re talking about the garden variety, you must be talking about that hush-hush group of well-to-do''s behind a good number of the city''s charitable organizations?"


    The young mage nodded, "That would be them. And as you can well imagine, there''s a lot more under the surface but we''re not going to focus on them directly. There are other groups out there with similarly mysterious agendas. The East Village Tong, The Charitable Order of Poor Knights in the western suburbs, even the Mother''s Arms Botanical Garden Group in Rose Cliff to our south share a secret.


    "I''m going to tell you what that secret is after you swear not to share it with another living soul without clearing it by me first. I hope the reason will be clear after I''m done explaining. Even if you don''t believe a word I say or are willing to believe that THEY believe it when you don''t, everyone that hears what I''m about to tell you can get on their radar. If they feel threatened by you, they WILL make you disappear."


    Chuckling a little nervously, Neil said, "I''m game, kid, but don''t expect me to buy some phony baloney."


    Orison grabbed the third chair from the table and set it behind the fan. Then Orison started filling up the sink as he set the dish rack into a drip pan, placing that on the chair. As Neil watched on in curiosity, Orison took an old bucket handle and dipped it into the sink as he turned off the water. After a few seconds of concentration, the young mage lifted the handle back out of the sink. The large, wet piece of ice which was connected to the handle, he sat on the dish rack. The oscillating fan carrying cooler air across the kitchen bore testament to something that Neil couldn''t easily explain but wasn''t overly threatened by.


    As Neil began rationalizing and picking apart what he saw, Orison interrupted him to say, "Oh, that wasn''t a demonstration or anything. I just thought it was a little uncomfortable in here. If you want, I could, though. Which would you prefer, to be lifted off the ground for a couple of seconds by an invisible force, interact with a summoned being or... Those are some pretty nasty scratch marks you have there. I could heal those up in a few seconds."


    Half in disbelief, half afraid Orison would do one of the first two, Neil stood up and turned his back to Orison. "That bruise under my left shoulder is starting to hurt something fierce. Whether it''s quack medicine or voodoo, it''d be nice if I didn''t have to deal with that in the morning."


    Orison said dryly, "And the mystery of the falling swamp cooler is solved... Sure thing, Casanova."


    After having a couple seconds of healing slapped on him, Neil sat down a little weak kneed with delayed realization about a lot of little strange things he''d noticed around his teenage roommate. He figured things out for a living and he wasn''t bad at it. The only thing that kept him from understanding sooner was a preconceived notion of how the world was and the evidence he was given didn''t match so he just rationalized it all away. Neil somewhat thought that Orison was a talented stage magician most of the time.


    The young mage gave Neil some time to let the shock wear off a little. While he waited, He grabbed a few lemons and made some half and half with the ice tea left in the fridge. Dumping a generous amount of sugar in it, Orison handed a glass to the detective as he made himself comfortable in his chair. Soon enough, Neil''s natural curiosity got the best of the man as he started firing off a list of questions that ranged from religious to ethical concerns. When the man''s curiosity turned to practical and theoretical queries, delving into what all Orison was capable of, the young mage stopped him.


    Orison said, "With some time and trust, I''ll get around to all of that. Focus on what you really want to know. We''ve got other ground to cover tonight and you need to log some good sleep for tomorrow no matter how the rest of this conversation goes."


    Neil said, "Is it something you''re born with or can it be learned."


    Orison said, "Yes to both. Learning is required, being born with a gift is better and makes things much easier. If you''re not born with it, you have to be exposed to some dangerous stuff for the possibility of acquiring a gift. I''m not certain if there are ways in this world to gain supernatural ability through academic pursuits alone but I''m sure there are. I''m also fairly sure that the chances of finding out how could turn out fruitless after a lifetime of pursuit, unless..."


    Neil''s eyes lit up. "Unless one or all of these secret societies have already figured it out."


    Orison nodded. "However, I''m pretty sure that with the state of the world being what it is, I''d bet the majority are the ones born with it. They probably pour most of their accumulated knowledge and resources into a sure bet instead of the riskier and and more time consuming methods. Pure academics might exist in their ranks but I doubt they go far."


    "Look, Neil. I was going to get a feel for if you''d be interested in leaving behind the safety and comfort of the life you know for this. I didn''t want to forcefully take away the limited protection being unaware provides if I didn''t think you''d want to know. The current circumstance has removed that luxury and it''s indirectly my fault.


    "I can tell myself that you''d have died from internal bleeding the day we met but I don''t know that for sure. Maybe they wouldn''t have gotten so carried away if they thought you wouldn''t have help or maybe they would have went further but all that is ''IF'' and it would only serve to make me feel better for dragging you into this. All I can say is I''m sorry but I''ll do what I can to make sure you survive it and maybe, with a little luck, become a person who needs to be reckoned with rather than pushed around."


    The silence stretched out for awhile until Neil broke it. "Listen, kiddo. I know how hard it is to go at it alone. I ain''t been much help to you and you''ve busted your a** lighting a fire under mine. If it hadn''t been me it''d have been some other poor schmuck. At least I didn''t have that much to lose. Here''s the thing...


    "I''ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for awhile now. In a way, I''m relieved. I mean, I wasn''t expecting this wackadoodle situation but I was expecting some kind of big trouble... I''ve been dealt raw hands most of my life, then you show up and it''s all aces. No offense but I''ve been waiting for the deuce to get dropped. So lay it on me. How dirty of a deuce are we dealing with here and how can we turn it into a flush and send it down the river?"

 110 Crawling Chaos 8

    Orison began explaining. "Alright. The first thing you need to know is that the secret societies actually serve a major function. Out of all the questionable and arguably evil things they might do, the one good thing they do is pretty important. Within their territories, they are expected to monitor and police all supernatural events. By who? The other societies.


    "This is where things get scary. There are places not protected. They can''t be because ''others'' have claimed them. By others, I mean things that aren''t human or at least they aren''t anymore.


    "Your missing persons request is in one of those places. Now, I know it sounds like garbage. People come in and out of there all the time and it doesn''t seem like anyone''s affected much less in danger but that''s not true. I checked the census. ''The war'' has been over for nearly two years. When most places are seeing a population boom or a slight drop of maybe one or two percent, the county where your case is saw a decline of over ten percent within two years. Dartmouth, the town where your missing person was last seen, I would lay money that it''s percentage is greatly higher than the county average and that''s downright terrifying if true."


    Neil shook his head. "I can''t wrap my mind around it. Sunny side is, you''ve given me something easy enough to verify. Let''s say your not just blowing smoke, how do we make it so we don''t end up like the rest?"


    Orison continued, "Up til now, I''ve been hesitant to add a handgun to your repertoire. It just seemed more troublesome than problem solving. First thing tomorrow, we''re going to the Sliver Bullet gun shop and getting you a .45 with three clips of ammunition and we''re getting those in silver casing. I don''t know how much better that is but it''s something.


    "After that, we''re going to Rose Cliff and touring some places that might get you rolling your eyes but look at it like this. If it doesn''t hurt, the worst case is that it doesn''t help. No harm done but a little wasted cash and it''s coming out of my pocket."


    A little disappointed, Neil said, "That''s all you got?"


    Orison said, "No. I''m going to be glued to your side like white on rice. Go nowhere alone. I don''t care if it''s a goddess among mortals, no going off alone and no taking offered consumables of any kind. If someone won''t talk with you unless you go somewhere private with them, consider it a trap.


    "We bring all of our own food and drinks. Bathroom breaks are together and only in public restrooms. We''re out before nightfall. Try not to even so much as touch something unless it''s absolutely necessary."


    Although some of the things Orison said made Neil uneasy, he didn''t argue. "I''m surprised you haven''t asked me not to go or why I''m willing to."


    Orison said, "The first would put me on a hunt list and I doubt good things would be waiting for you, either. As for the second, it matters but if you wanted me to know, I figured you''d tell me. If you didn''t, what would be the point of asking?"


    Neil looked like he struggled with something before he said, "The dame that was here, she''s the sister of our missing person. She''s not one of Mr. Carter''s people, either. After... the promises I made, I need to try. Even if it''s dangerous, I need to give it my best. If I don''t, then I did something bad, something unforgivable."


    The young mage sighed. "Put the right bait down and the prey will jump in the trap even when they know it''s one. She was your bait and you were mine... Don''t be a creep, Neil. I feel responsible. I''m not looking at you with anything other than the eyes of a physician and a friend."


    Neil laughed off the odd look he gave the teenager but still walked to his room for an undershirt and sleep pants. "It''s cooled off pretty nice in here."


    Orison responded dryly, "If I''d have known that''s all it would take to get you to stop streaking around, I''d have made a lame pass at you weeks ago."


    Neil smirked and said, "If you had made a lame pass at me weeks ago, I''d have tossed you out on your ears... Then again, you were throwing some serious doe around and I was feeling pretty low. You might have missed your only shot, kid."


    Orison rolled his eyes, "As much as I''d like to rip apart your laughable attempt at indirect self praise at my expense, UNCLE Neil, it did make me think of something important. Should we set an hour aside for you to do some target practice? Please tell me you''ve already logged SOME time on a firing range."


    The detective shrugged. "Two years ain''t that long. It''s like riding a bicycle. Not a bad idea to get acquainted with a new partner, though."


    Orison tested the steadiness of Neil''s hand and gave him an informal eye exam. "There''s still a light tremor in your fingers that a few herbal drinks and healing can''t easily fix. You also have a a touch of astigmatism. Not a big deal but enough to matter."


    After spending another few minutes discussing plans, Neil admitted being too wound up to sleep. Orison took another few minutes to set up the makeshift air conditioner in Neil''s room and made the man a light sedative. Returning to his own room, the young mage spent some time going over the plan, unable to be satisfied. It was pointless trying to predict the unknown.


    As busy as he had made himself through the night, Orison was rousing from trance as Neil bumbled around the kitchen. Walking in, Orison noted in half amusement and annoyance that Neil was back to boxers. He couldn''t say much. The young mage knew if he was running around in a home he could truly call his own, the release of repressed exhibitionist ambivalence would make Neil''s devil may care attitude look tame in comparison.


    "Here, I got something for you," Orison said as he handed Neil a set of black underclothes.


    Looking at them dubiously, Neil said, "At a glance, I can tell this isn''t you trying to give me the heebie-jeebies. What''s the skinny on them?"


    Looking at them proudly, Orison said, "Carbon enhanced clothing. All the breathable, stretchy, moisture wicking comfort you could ask with but burn and cut resistance. Due to a little unavoidable quirk of production, it''s magically locked too but I don''t really think that does much of anything since it doesn''t have a hinged opening anywhere. The barn door on the bottom part clicks together like it has magnets in it. I think that''s kind of neat.


    "There''s also a thing that looks like a handkerchief with a floppy beak on it. Remove the adhesive backing and it will seal over your face and nose as long as you keep clean shaven. There''s an ampule pack in the ''beak'' that''ll give you breathable air for a couple of minutes after you break the top off. Just remember to breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Point your head down if you''re trying to breathe in while underwater."


    There was nearly a childlike glee to Neil''s face as he looked at the ''emergency handkerchief gas mask''.


    Orison thought to himself, "Ah, so that''s why he looked so disappointed with the preparations last night. He was hoping for some neat gadgets. Sorry buddy, my applied science isn''t that strong. I can kind of understand why though, all the fantasy/science fiction writing of this era is pretty prop heavy. When he heard ''supernatural'', he thought weird gizmos."


    Looking put out, Orison said, "Why are you fiddling so much with the face mask? I literally shaved a year off my life to make those undergarments. It''s temporary but still..."


    Seeing Neil''s continued unenthusiastic response and halfhearted thanks before fiddling with the mask again, Orison took a kitchen knife out and turned the stove burner on. With a sudden downward thrust, poked a half inch of the blade into the table where the shirt lay. After removing the knife, Orison showed that there was only some scuff and a small stretch mark where the knife struck.


    Throwing the shirt on top of the burner, Orison said, "Put your hand on it."


    Tentatively at first, then with a little more enthusiasm, Neil patted the shirt. Orison cast a presto and mend on it before tossing the shirt back with the underwear. Neil answered Orison''s expectant look with the overenthusiastic praise that a dad would give a child over an ugly tie at Father''s Day. It wasn''t that Neil didn''t get the use. It just wasn''t that ''thrilling''.


    Grouchily, Orison said, "Well, it''s part of the uniform. We should get moving to the gun store soon and try to get through Rose Cliff before noon if you want to log any investigation time today."


    The young mage stomped off to go make a grocery store run while Neil got ready. Little did he know, Neil spent almost a minute playing with the ''magnetic'' fly on the shorts with a goofy smile. Just as well since he wouldn''t have known whether to laugh or cry.


    An hour later, detective and mage were done with Silver Bullet gun shop, nearly a half hour ahead of schedule. Perhaps it was because of how they met but Orison found that he underestimated Neil frequently. The man knew exactly what he needed and what questions to ask while he was getting it. Less than a clip of ammo wasted and he was shooting a grouping tighter than a dime at forty feet, a silver dollar at fifty. Before he''d finished off the third clip, those groupings were exactly where he wanted them to be.


    On their way to Rose Cliff, the two ruminated over the string of corny werewolf jokes the surprisingly nice old man at the gun shop told them after their large purchase of silver casing bullets that usually sold seven or less at a time. Neil followed that up with some stories of his better times at the academy and the nephew of the previous mayor who cost him his future as a police detective not but a month out of the gate. He didn''t seem overly bitter about it but he''d had three years of self pity to attest how bad it had once been.


    "It was love at first sight with that Swiss 9mm. Why did you give up your Luger so early in? By your own story, there was still savings in your bank account towards the end of year one," Orison said.


    Neil shrugged a little strangely as he adjusted to the presence of a shoulder holster again. " For much the same reason you stated last night. It was more trouble than it solved. As a civilian detective there wasn''t really a need for me to be armed and I had a lot better chance of living without it than with it. Sure, I probably took a few extra knuckle sandwiches than I would have but I''d rather that than a gun fight. You don''t stand back up and dust those off.


    "Moving forward, I don''t feel the same. Before the hocus pocus, I was already thinking about this new batch of wise guys and how the streets were turning bloody whether you were walking chin up or down. These new street toughs don''t play by old rules. If they got a gun they''ll shoot first and ask questions later. I don''t doubt not a single one of them''s gonna see a gray hair before they push daisies but that ain''t much comfort for the one''s they put in the ground before they buy the farm."


    Passing the city limit sign for Rose Cliff, Orison felt like they drove through a thin film of molasses. With spirit sight, the young mage saw how a bit of that stickiness seemed to cling to his daggers and Neil''s new sidearm.


    A bit worried, Orison said, "Neil, pull the car over. We need to stow our weapons away."


    Puzzled, Neil complied and looked a little forlorn as Orison stashed the gun and his two daggers in the glove box before hitting it with a magic lock that caused the glove box to shimmer for a moment. The young mage let out a shaky breath as he felt a faint ominous presence disappear as if it never was.


    Projecting a little belligerence, Neil asked, "What''s the big idea?"


    Solemnly, Orison said, "We are in one of the biggest, strangest magic circles I have ever seen or felt. Whatever presence that monitors it doesn''t like guns or enchanted daggers."


    Neil said, "Well, I ain''t heard of anybody being shot or stabbed in Rose Cliff. Doesn''t seem like such a bad thing, I guess."


    Orison said, "Quick lesson on magic circles. The person who makes it, sets the rules and can add all kinds of exceptions. A person who enters it, consents to its rules whether they are aware or not, whether those rules are fair or not. They can be a trap, protection or serve some utility purpose... This one is all three and it''s powerful.


    "I can''t see much but an invisible friend, so to speak, can sense the big rules. Don''t intentionally hurt anything. If it''s accidental, don''t admit you hurt anything and play dumb. Don''t insult and most definitely don''t hurt a woman. Even if she''s being... cruel, turn the other cheek, seriously... Damn. Alright, we''re leaving the car here and walking the last bit. It''ll burn a little time but there''s a trap that makes every person that comes into their town in a car, break a rule.


    "This is pretty much just paranoia of falling under their power by breaking a rule. I imagine it''s relatively harmless to most but as soon as you do, they CAN mess with you. It doesn''t mean they will but I don''t like it."


    Neil grumbled and Orison warned him to be careful how he worded things.


    Every several yards in, the young mage was throwing out another thing for Neil to pay attention to. There were triple moon etchings on the sidewalk not to step on. There were elder tree branches that had to be walked around instead of moved out of the way to keep a hidden tea candle lantern from scorching a leaf or twig. Eventually, their path to the botanical they were aiming for took a turn into a comical maze run. Other casual visitors were looking at them oddly and Neil started feeling self conscious about it. "Do we really have to do this? People are giving us funny looks."


    Orison was smiling, enjoying the challenge. "Think of it as a fair game. If we break a rule then so be it but I want to see how long I can last. We don''t have to but look at it from another angle. Isn''t it kind of like a challenge of whit and skill? Sometimes it''s just more fun to play along.


    "I''m pretty sure about one thing. It really isn''t meant maliciously. It''s just kind of a necessity to be able to handle people who come with less than honorable intentions. The entity that watches over it all is actually amused by our ''following of the rules'' and it already doesn''t see us as a threat."


    Somewhat with the mentality of humoring a child, Neil followed along, trying his best to ''follow the rules''. What he didn''t know is that Orison wasn''t just following them, he was bending them, finding loopholes and jumping parts. He was finding ways to circumvent and subvert them. Doing so was having some strange empowering effect on his fey heritage. Unknowingly, a bit of his glamour leaked out and infected Neil with a sense of childlike amusement at it all. Underneath the complex, nearly impossible set of complex rules was a deeper set of old ones. With Herne''s guidance, Orison started seeing a spiral pattern.


    It had only been danced by women for a long time. It was out of balance. Invisible Herne, Orison and Neil where following the masculine portion that had weakened and threatened to enfeeble the powerful ward. Even as they defied the witches authority, they were aiding them, enriching the protection of the old magic circle.


    By the time that they had reached a hidden eastern entrance to the botanical, Neil had technically lost but had ''contributed'' enough to the circle''s empowerment that his infraction was forgiven. Were it not for Herne ''sacrificing'' himself to lift Orison over an impassable rule trap at one point, none of them would have actually ''won'' the self made challenge.


    Breathing heavily, Neil said, "What we did wasn''t THAT hard. Why do I feel like I just ran a marathon while juggling bowling balls?"


    Still a little ''high'' from his spiritual blood being stimulated, Orison replied airily, "You just helped recreate all of existence. How easy do you expect that to be?"


    Neil looked at the teenager like he''d grown a second head but Orison was more keen on the formal ending. Reaching out to touch the door, his euphoria came to a sudden crashing halt as it opened and the built up mysterious energy he was carrying from all three of them rushed in. His vision darkened. All seemed lost to the void. As a person who had died, more than once even, he was no stranger to the sensation.


    Whatever Orison had been expecting to lay at the end of his fun romp, it hadn''t been something so dire. The only thing left to understand was if he was dying or already dead. His conscious mind was too blotted out to tell.

 111 Crawling Chaos 9

    Stepping past the hair thin ''endless void'', Orison found himself in a lush and masterfully maintained botanical garden. Behind him, Neil had reached out and grabbed his shoulder to keep him from completely tripping over the small lip of the door frame. In front of him, three generations of auburn haired women smiled at him.


    While the unseen Neil watched on with increasingly slack jawed bewilderment, the youngest stepped forward. She wasn''t much older than Orison appeared to be which made it awkward for Orison when the girl kissed him on the cheek. Before stepping back, she placed a flower garland on his head. Of the few he recognized, they symbolized rebirth and the like.


    The mature and radiant woman in the middle stepped forward and gave Orison a not so chaste kiss on the lips. Enveloped in her arousing perfume, Orison came to the realization that all these symbols could become a very real thing. He could take her. She would have him. The price would be greater than he was willing to pay because his journey would end here. At some point he''d have to sacrifice himself to save his future children and the rest of this community from the coming end. He settled for the jeweled stag pen she had used to fasten the top of his over robe and endured her disappointment.


    Lastly, the older woman in her sixties, liberal streaks of snowy white adding august splendor to her auburn locks, took his head in her hands and kissed his forehead. She placed a small, leather bound book into his hands before returning to her place as well. Without sharing a single word, all three turned and walked away. There was a quality to what they did that kept even Neil from saying a word in their presence either. That spellbound sensation didn''t dissipate until minutes after they were gone. Stowing the book away, Orison shook his head at whatever questions Neil was about to ask. He sensed that speaking about those three women in any way would ruin whatever goodwill he''d managed to earn here.


    Turning inward, Orison communicated with Herne. "It could have been you. I would have been alright with that."


    In earnestness, with no trace of false modesty, Herne replied, "Such a noble sacrifice is an honor for kings. I am merely a lord. As the lord of a lord and a descendant of Dannan, thou wouldst suffice in their eyes. Since it was not cowardice that stayed my lord, there was no shame in refusing."


    Neil called the young mage back to the outer world. "I get that mum''s the word but that''s not what we came for. Not that I get all this mumbo jumbo. Daylight''s burning no matter how you slice it."


    Orison noted that even under the strong protection of Rose Cliff''s magic circle, the flower garland''s think vital essence was slowly being drawn away, he had Herne escort it to his plane. Seeing Herne''s look of longing, Orison was tempted to give it to the fey spirit but realized that it would be insulting to both the maiden and to Herne. Instead, he had it placed around the recovering ginseng.


    Not wanting Neil to burst a blood vessel after all their small delays, Orison found the botanical director. After a brief but pleasant share of niceties, the young mage did some brisk business for ingredients and information on finding what they needed. There was a bit of a heated moment at the occult store when the proprietress tried to pass off mislabeled garbage at a premium but once the lady knew the young mage was an ''initiated'', she opened up her limited supply of authentic goods. All offense was forgiven when she was paid without barter or complaint.


    By the time they were done and heading to the car, Neil looked about fit to burst over the small mountain of ''useless junk'' Orison had amassed. It probably didn''t help that it had nearly came to a thousand dollars all said and done. If Neil wasn''t in the know about supernatural stuff and Orison''s 10k consultation payout, he would have taken the teenager to task for a number of reasons.


    On the drive back, Neil said, "Can you give me some good reason for all this?"


    Orison chuckled. "You mean things like buying a box of chalk for twenty bucks when it goes for ten cents anywhere else. Things like that?"


    "That''d be a start," Neil said glumly.


    Smiling, Orison explained. "Unlike the two dollar chalk in the front of the store that was probably that same ten cents chalk in a nicer box, the ones I bought were magnetic chalk from a particular cliff in a special place that was put in the same box as the ten cent chalk. You see, she didn''t really WANT to sell it because she didn''t know when she could get more. That goes for a lot of the things we bought today. Under normal circumstances, I did spend too much, way too much.


    "But the state of affairs being what they are, if not for this little brooch on my over robe, money wouldn''t have been an issue. We wouldn''t have even seen what we did, much less pay through the nose for it. She probably cares about money in the same way I do. Which is to say, as long as I have what I need, it''s just convenience."


    Neil rolled it around in his head and said, "So she was just fleecing you to make herself feel better or something?"


    Orison shook his head. "If I had ten times as much money as I have, it would have cost ten times more. Same the other way... It was a tithe. The sacrifice was what was important, not the amount. It didn''t even need to be money really. It could have been a favor or a time spent in service. I might have even been able to pay in blood or even less tangible things depending on her need and ability to collect them. I feel grateful she was willing to take money and I''ll have to return the courtesy if I find myself in possession of something she needs if she comes asking for it."


    Neil frowned as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, projecting how overwhelmed he felt by the things he was being exposed to. "It''s confusing. All these new rules, things to watch out for and the like."


    Orison said, "None of it''s new. It''s the oldest. The rules are the easiest part Neil. Hell, most wild animals observe them without thought. I mean, they get complicated after the fact but at their foundation, they''re pretty basic.


    "My space, my rules. Your space, your rules. If you''re strong enough, you can ignore the rules because you can make the space, your space. If you''re crafty enough, you can avoid the rules. If you or what you have are valuable enough, you can bend or even break the rules because it''ll be tolerated. That''s the center, Neil. It all comes from that."


    While Neil lost himself to his own thoughts on the drive back, Orison was looking through the old journal style book. Aside from diagrams, cramped recipe instructions and ritual work that would take time to learn without using the book as a reference, most of the theoretical information could be internalized in under a couple of hours for the young mage. At it''s heart, the book was a beginner''s guide to the mysticism side of wards, talismans and ritual magic aimed at more rational minded people.


    "Small change of plans. No need to wait for me when we drop this stuff off at the apartment. I''m going to stay behind to try a few things while you go dig for all the background information at the library and police station," Orison said a little absentmindedly as he kept skimming through the book.


    Frowning, Neil said, "We''ve already lost nearly half an hour off our original timetable. Making another round trip will add another quarter hour because I''m not cutting the library time and the hour at the police station is a generous estimate as it is."


    Sighing, Orison said, "We can cheat today and swing through Darby''s for a late lunch out. I''m half expecting something might keep us from being able to come back tonight. A little time to study this book and put a couple of things together before we go could make a big difference on how safe we''ll be if that happens."


    It was Neil''s turn to sigh. "We''ve got an extra battery, tire and even a spare can of gas. What else... You know what, we''ll do it your way this time but I''m telling you. If all this tom foolery ends up being for the birds, we do things my way then on. We''re going less than a two hour drive north, not camping in the damn mountains with Big Foot. Lighten up a little."


    Once the car was unloaded and Neil drove off a little hot under the collar from all the unexpected delays, Orison sifted through his purchases to judiciously store the most precious supplies away on his plane. Ditching his original ideas, Orison practiced what was in the book as security for Neil''s office and apartment. Half an hour in, when he felt he''d gotten the hang of it, Orison switched to making a few simple talismans.


    Partially through his forth effort in mystic version enchanting, there was a knock at the door. With concentration broke, the small ''spool'' of spiritual essence he was weaving into his talisman was immediately sucked up by the vast and omnipresent inert essence of the world. Trying not to pitch a fit about one of the few motes of condensed essence that hadn''t been claimed by plane or black crystal being lost the the inert void, Orison answered the door. Behind it was Third Brother, aka: River and Lake.


    Orison''s mood immediately plummeted. The Tong knew about everything that happened in their territory and most of what happened in the city, even surrounding areas. It wouldn''t be a lie that out of all of the societies, they had the widest intelligence network if not exactly the best. They knew that Mr. Carter was putting the screws to him and they wouldn''t be stopping by to wish him well. There was only one reason that Orison could think of why a Tong member would be visiting him in broad daylight on the day he''d be marching to possible oblivion.


    Orison smirked as he let ''Third Brother'' in. "So the generous host becomes landlord? How much ''rent'' am I going to be charged? More importantly, what would the Tong have done to collect if I hadn''t been let off at the apartment for awhile before we left?"


    Looking appropriately apologetic, the man said, "First Brother and Ling''er don''t know about this. Our leader would have taken a more reciprocal approach if we didn''t have a visitor from elsewhere. It will be, later... when you return. I volunteered so that you could at least deal with a friendly face instead of one tearing through your possessions and shouting demands."


    Orison said neutrally, "Friendly or hostile, how am I supposed to feel about someone coming to rob me of my preparation materials and equipment right before a fight for my life? No matter how nicely it''s done, my possessions are going to be ransacked and when I come back, I might get a little returned. What are they expecting to get? Do they have a list or are they just planning on taking everything that can be found?"


    With a pained look on his face, ''Jianghu'' handed a list over and translated it for Orison.


    Numb at how incredulous the demands were, Orison said, "Most of this isn''t even what I bought from the witches. It''s a wish list they couldn''t fill if they had raided the store itself!"


    In a low and somewhat humiliated voice, the man said, "I... feared that it might have been like that. This list was made by the visitor after hearing the report. I was told that you could make up in value for essentials you couldn''t bear to part with... I might be able to cover a third with First Brother''s help and I promise to help you make this right when you return."


    With a stormy face, Orison said, "What would be the point? If this was a ''visitor'' that can even boss your leader around when they''re in town, there''s no justice to be had. Even if you help me fill this list by beggaring your family, it will just encourage more greed once I return."


    Orison had the man follow him to his room and after picking out a few essentials he felt he needed from the supplies he saw no reason to store in his space, he said, "You can take the rest of this with you as a token of sincerity to your leader."


    The young mage picked up a bronze coin etched with an eight sided star on one face and a sun on the other that warded off negative energy and produced a weak deflection field. "This is a gift I made for your niece with the understanding that she no longer call''s me son or refers to herself as my mother... Tell the ''visitor'' if they so much as touch it or any other gift I give to the Tong here, they will find that my calling phrase is also a warning. For what little they think they might lose if I die in the north, it might behoove them to test my strength before they test my limits.??


    Looking distressed, ''Third Brother'' said, "I can appreciate the sentiment but even if I was to lay down for you here and let you pass, there are three more who owe their allegiance elsewhere. Ther-"


    Orison looked out the window and called out Herne, horse and hound to the alley one floor below then silently communicated, "Huntsman, you have heard what our friend has said. We have three prey in need of your skills."


    Turning paler by the second, the man said, "What have you done?"


    Orison gave a predatory smile and said, "What do you mean? Aren''t we standing here together in friendly discourse?"


    As a loud scream became silent merely a fraction of a second after it started, the man looked sad and said, "By oath, I have no choice. Even if I can''t win, even if I don''t want to win, I must fight you now."


    ''Third Brother'' not so much as pulled his blade before he collapsed weakly to the floor. Looking at Orison in confusion, he saw that the young mage had drawn a symbol in the air that made lines glow around his room.


    Orison crouched before him and said as kindly as he could under the burning wrath spilling from his glowing, temporarily reptilian eyes, "I will say it for the second and last time. Despite my small tiff, I''m still willing to be a helpful visitor as long as the Tong doesn''t treat me as an enemy."


    Less than five minutes later, Herne and animal companions returned to Orison''s mini plane. A few seconds later, a house sized chunk of black crystal vaporized before transforming into a thick disk of dark soil with a semi-illusory hunter''s shelter on it. The underside of Orison''s plane dwarfed the top but the young mage could tell that the soil was all but barren and useless.


    Looking slightly tired, Herne said, "For the moment, rather than a pittance to mine recovery, a lord has need of an abode. Living on horseback should be a metaphor, not stark truth. Twill be most useful for the recovery of my lord''s barrow as well. Consider it a conciliatory effort on mine part to you, my lord."


    Orison looked above and noticed that the flower garland had fused with the ''firefly'' sprite for some reason, producing a butterfly winged young woman who took the whole of the spiritual plants as her duty to nurture. Her mind was still quite simple but it wouldn''t take long for that to somewhat at least match with the fairy models whose concepts she was made of. Orison focused back on Herne who suddenly felt the need to check his horse''s hooves for stones that couldn''t possibly be there.


    Magic and even supernaturally empowered symbols linked to ''tribal'' fey were still ''wild'' and riddled with unexpected expression. The existence of the ''garden fairy'' was surprising but incredibly beneficial, not only to his plane''s spiritual plant life but also to his summoning concepts. Being connected to him but fueled to a more complete existence by a touch of vital essence and old magic, the fairy''s development would reveal even more mysteries within the concepts of ''life'' and ''summoning''.


    Looking at the man who would answer to river and lake, Orison said. "If you''ve calmed down some, my friend, perhaps we should look for these visiting members from another tong. If they are in need of support, I wouldn''t want to detain you from going to their aid."


    Aggrieved and bitter, the man said, "I believe you have made your point well, one who answers to the wild hunt. Those who lost their lives today were not evil. Perhaps you felt you had no choice but that will not matter to the ones who love them."


    Orison said, "Did they come with the intention to do me harm if I didn''t let them rob me? If so, today they WERE evil. Don''t try to wash the hands of those who came to do dirty work in front of their intended victim. It''s insulting."


    As the man turned to leave, he said, "I fail to see any good ending to this now."


    Orison nodded. "Tell your leader that as long as he remains neutral, I will prove that I am a force worth befriending. I don''t expect the Tong to take my side but don''t join theirs. I hope your leader isn''t the type to be made someone else''s pawn."

 112 Crawling Chaos 10

    The young mage saw ''Jianghu'' out, despite the man looking like he didn''t want to be anywhere near Orison, growing more distraught and angry looking by the second. He didn''t follow the man to annoy him, though. He did it because Herne looked confused when Orison asked him where the bodies were and the explanation that came afterward.


    Stepping outside, the ''Third Brother'' saw a woman that was familiar to him but not Orison running around, looking manically happy. At first he was stunned and looked back in shock at Orison. Seeing the young mage shrug his shoulders with a mischievous grin on his face, the man look like he struggled between hugging Orison or punching him in the face. Fortunately for ''Jianghu'', he chose to run up to the woman and check on her.


    With ''Third Brother'' fussing over the woman, Orison walked around the corner where a man sat looking lost beside one who was all but dead. "There was a grain of true virtue in you so you were half spared. I''m going to heal you enough that the other half doesn''t bleed out of you in small ways til you die from it despite being shown mercy."


    After a couple of heals which served to stop the hemorrhage of vital essence that seeped out of whatever supernatural wounding method Herne used, the man said, "What about him?"


    Orison shrugged. The man was suffering from severe soul fading and lack of vitality. That he could even muster enough emotional impetus to ask after another before he''d even had a chance to recover spoke volumes about the validity of Herne''s claim. It didn''t really impress the young mage that much.


    Had it been his call, in the heat of the moment, none of them would have survived. After having a chance to cool down, he was glad they did, even if it was only a technicality for the third member of their group. It made things less complicated for him and a great deal more so for the one targeting him.


    This incident served as a wake up call for Orison, however. Herne might serve him in a technical manner but the entity followed rules unknown to the mage and the alien powers it wielded didn''t follow any logical standard that Orison could measure. The huntsman might be on his roster, but that didn''t mean the fey creature was a killing machine ready to mow down obstacles for the young mage, either.


    Whatever the case, two members from another tong became powerless mundanes and the third became a soulless puppet not capable of much besides following simple orders. That the woman had been freed from the oppression of an unwanted gift and the third man would be abandoned by the one he had unquestioningly served, waking up others to the nature of the person they paid homage to were things that Orison wouldn''t have ever thought to ask if Herne hadn''t shared.


    Unwilling to answer much about himself for roughly the same reasons climbers didn''t talk about their keys, Herne said, "My lord, of what can be shared, mayhaps this is of the most value. The wild hunt may be called to right a wrong. If so, it hunts that wrong but it shall hunt that same wrong from the caller as well, else they become a hound of the hunt themselves. My lord is spared from this but only so far.


    "My Lord may release me to serve of mine own free will, tis best. That which may be drawn upon to serve may be of lesser import but the cost, tis only sincerity. To be called upon in the hunt of beast, regardless of form, that displeases creation is not only duty. Tis mine pleasure. All else is left to greater hands, my lord. If it please you, mine efforts have left me wanting rest."


    Spared or not, the visiting members from another tong and Third Brother himself had a task to perform that Orison wasn''t willing to let them complete without a fight. It was also obvious that they were no longer up to the task. Add to it that Orison was a teenager ''with the right look'' and they were people from East Village, any further altercation was only likely to make a bad situation worse. It didn''t feel good knowing that blatant favoritism from law enforcement due to discrimination was the mage''s current best line of defense but truth was truth no matter how ugly.


    For the last bit of time before Neil would swing by to pick him up, Orison contemplated the growing problem with the Tong and what would need to be done moving forward. It looked like there was a good chance that the Tong''s neutrality would be temporarily suspended no matter what the local leader''s personal thoughts were. With the only way to restore it being no better than impoverished servitude, Orison was obviously not willing.


    Moving wasn''t that much of an option. If he wanted to avoid a fight by running away, he''d have to keep running. He doubted things were much better elsewhere and outside of anyone''s territory, he''d turn into free game for any group that got a hold of him first. Although it hadn''t reached the point of ''join a society or die'', it could. What''s worse, insistence on being independent for as long as he could might severely limit his options and increase the prices he''d have to pay when he was finally forced to choose.


    It occurred to him belatedly that he had made a crucial error during his first month in this world. Following old logic, once Orison had a breather, he''d immediately started trying to adjust and look for the ''way out''. The forces of a world weren''t kind enough to see and leave alone an exploitable resource for long. The Tong had given him a valuable opportunity to understand the situation around him before he was forced to start making stands or compromises but he had spent it all on looking towards the next step at the cost of understanding where he currently stood.


    The young mage suddenly realized being low key was a lot more than just not picking unnecessary fights and using abilities wantonly. It was also staying away from the direct light of day, living in the fringe and sacrificing comfort for freedom. That was where all of the knowledge he possessed as a ''modern man'' wasn''t helpful. Addictions to convenience and luxury, preconceived false notions of necessity and desire for social normalcy lead him straight into the lion''s jaw.


    Chuckling to himself, Orison conceded that even after making that discovery, he''d probably make the same mistakes again. He''d learn to be smarter about it, make himself a little less mainstream, but he''d fight for his creature comforts and the ability to enjoy all that a new world had to offer or there wouldn''t be much point to it all. So what if he was greedy for civilization and its trappings? He''d just become the lion tamer and break the overgrown cat''s teeth out! He had no doubt he''d lose a finger or two in the process but that was a price he was willing to pay.


    When Neil finally picked him up, Orison found himself in a strangely good mood. The detective was quite the opposite. Aside from a few earlier newspaper clippings at the library of Joshua Stakes, his missing person, it was more like the man had never existed rather than disappeared. Health, school and legal records were all missing. A call to Mr. Carter verified in sub-textual conversation that Joshua would remain ''in identity limbo'' until he was found.


    Orison said, "It''s protection. He wasn''t an important person in the Masons, just a new recruit. They wont risk publicity for him. If he stays missing, he''ll be erased by the people he expected to have his back when he was in need... is what I''d like to say. But truth is, Mr. Carter is trying to do something by blackmailing us to go look for the guy."


    Neil said, "You can''t call it blackmail if you''re getting paid well."


    "Let''s agree to disagree on that one... Oh, here''s a protective amulet. I got one too. Pretty stylish, right?" Orison said.


    Glancing at the bronze coin dangling on a gold chain, Neil said, "Only gals and gangsters wear necklaces."


    Frowning, Orison said, "If I threw this on the ground between two low ranking society members, they''d beat each other unconscious to get it. Mid rank would fight with money and high rank would fight halfheartedly with prestige. Why? There''s not a lot of general purpose curse protections that work off the principle these do and it''s got a little kinetic force deflection too.


    "The faster the object coming towards it, the better it works. Unfortunately, I think that caps a bit before sound barrier which means bullets aren''t exactly going to bounce off it. It''s still going to knock them outward from the center point of the medallion. Since that''s around the solar plexus, your legs aren''t covered but the good news is, curses and shots that target legs and feet aren''t really made to be fatal... typically."


    Seeing that it would turn into an argument that would end with Orison getting his way anyway, Neil used a hand to slip it over his neck and tucked it between dress and undershirt. "If you were going to spring for a gold chain, you might as well made the disk gold too. This thing''s going to stain my shirts."


    Orison laughed. "Not friggin likely. Besides, I would have used gold if the coins weren''t cast from a special bell. The details are only important to the maker. Just know that it''s good stuff."


    A quarter hour out of the city, as Orison was making a comment about their Derby Deluxe burgers, Orison''s spirit sight picked up a thin boundary of some kind. It wasn''t the rounded or clear edge of a magic circle. It was more jagged, like a crack in the air. The weak nature of it mixed with inert spirit essence meant that they were passing through it with the car before Orison could do more than notice it clearly.


    All they felt was a faint push against them that had them slightly sink into their seats for a split second. Orison was surprised that Neil had even felt it but then realized it was probably the deflection of the medallion that had caused the pressure sensation to begin with. A quick question that confirmed Neil hadn''t felt it in his legs confirmed.


    On high alert, the next hour passed by silently as Orison didn''t want to be distracted with casual chat. Getting fairly near their destination, Orison assumed that it was some kind of weird territory line and left it at that. A few minutes of chatting with Neil about how the detective handled these kind of investigations, they hit another boundary.


    It came without warning and even Orison''s spirit sense hadn''t picked up on anything visually until both he and Neil were slammed into the seat with enough force to break the brackets holding it in place. The effect hadn''t been quite as drastic for the detective as it had been for Orison who rolled over the top of the unsecured car seat and through the back glass. Aside from a few minor scrapes and bruises, the aftereffects of adrenaline induced shock were the only sign that he had been rolling on the pavement as the young mage picked himself up and staggered off the road.


    Quickly pulling over, Neil got out of the car and ran to Orison. "You alright there, kiddo?"


    Orison laughed weakly, "No biggie, just shook up a little. Remind me to change cloths on our way back out, though."


    "What the hell was that about!?" Neil said, edgy from what happened.


    The young mage shook glass out of his hair and robe hood before slapping a heal and heading towards the car. "Same as the first but stronger. Good news is that our medallions and the reinforcements in my gear are fairly effective. The bad news is that said enchantments aren''t very friendly in cars when magic gets introduced to physics.


    "As far as I can tell, the first is a weak boundary line caused by a minute separation of this chunk of land from the rest of the world. It''s not bad but over time, it could turn into something pretty tragic... The second one is a bit like the magic circle outside of Rose Cliff, except messy and chaotic. It''s not so much a clear border that holds special rules and more like a yellow line in the snow that''s supernatural and mean spirited."


    Shooting worried glances at Orison and then back at his surroundings, Neil said, "Look, kid. After that spill, if you want to call it a day..."


    Orison shook his head. "This is your show, Neil. Do what you need to do so that when you face that Joshua guy''s sister, you won''t feel like scum. I''m just here for backup and I''m fine. But just so you know, you can call this any time you want."


    Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, we ain''t going to be doing much of anything with a floating seat. Every hit of the gas or brake is gonna make me struggle to keep the car on the road."


    Orison smiled. "Well, I''m going to show off for a second. Watch for traffic and randoms."


    The young mage exercised his telekinesis to scoop up glass and plaster it back before mending it. Three mends later and it was serviceable until it could be properly replaced. Two more and the seat was passably re-bolted but still somewhat bent out of shape. With almost a quarter of his reserve used, Orison didn''t feel in the mood for cosmetic repair. It worked for the time being.


    With the intention of switching until they were safely parked again, Orison went to change out his clothing set. Before he finished the gesture, an instinct warned him not to. Feeling around for the reason, Orison realized that the inert essence pressure around them was so dense that his aura naturally compacted. If it was much stronger, mundane people wouldn''t be able to survive for long. As it was, sickness, serious injury or advanced age would weaken their auras enough to cause casual contact with inert essence, costing them their lives.


    With no other option, Neil rolled into town at a conservative 20mph. With a little less than two hours before they''d be heading back out of town at seven, the detective hit the ground running. While Neil did his thing, Orison was observing the people and the environment, attempting to maintain as much of a background character as possible. That ended up being a lot easier than he thought it would be.


    Contrary to what Orison was expecting, the people were friendly. A little on the old fashioned side, with Neil asking after serious business, people shoved Orison into the ''children should be seen and not heard'' category. Once done, and it was time to move on to the next potential source for clues, they would suddenly acknowledge his presence again. It wasn''t to be dismissive of the teenager. It was the expected etiquette they had been raised to observe. Serious business meant kids stayed quite and out of the way.


    That suited Orison just fine. He had no real desire to interact with them and it left him free to observe them and their surroundings without the need for distracting, polite responses. Sadly, there was little to take note of.


    The young mage knew they were in the territory of some scary thing or other but it was a background menace. The original concern Orison had for the people who lived there wasn''t even as relevant as he had originally thought. As all living things are prone to do, the residents had somewhat unknowingly adapted to their hostile environment by producing a spiritual ''callus'' around themselves to better lock their vitality in. This would produce the secondary effect of not being as appealing to supernatural predators compared to visitors who would be ''brighter'' and seemingly more robust prey.


    While the young mage marveled at the tenacity of life and nature''s mysterious but practical mechanisms, Neil had narrowed Joshua''s disappearance spot to one of two places. There was the boat rental rental place that could verify the man''s journey out to a local tidal cave tourist attraction but had no witness to the man''s return even though the boat had been signed back in. Suspiciously, the boat sign-in was the same minute that Joshua signed into the motel guestbook with money left under the bell.


    Aside from some ''think they saw''s that pointed Joshua as last being seen at the motel, the tidal cave trip seemed the real point of disappearance. As soon as Orison agreed with Neil''s assessment, the detective shook his head with a smirk. Leaving Orison hanging, Neil wrapped up his first day checklist and started walking back to the car.


    Once they were back on the road, going a safe 20 mph that would let them pass through the the ''rough'' border without a repeat of the way in, Neil explained, "To the rookie, the evidence points to a destination unknown from the motel. To the nosy, it points to the tidal cave. If we went to the cave, we''d be in trouble. If we wrapped it up as an accidental drowning and called in the locals to troll the water, I have a feeling they''d probably find his body and that would be the end but I didn''t."


    Slightly annoyed, Orison asked, "Why not? I know you were just dying for me to ask that..."


    Brows furrowed, Neil said, "This is my shtick. I played hopscotch in Loony Bird town with you. Humor me here."


    Playing wide eyed, confused airhead, Orison asked with a dramatically overdone curious voice, "Oh, gee willikers! Why didn''t you!?"


    Neil glanced over at Orison with a smirk on his face. "Because I think he might still be ali-"


    Orison''s eyes widened with genuine surprise but it wasn''t for the reason Neil thought as the young mage cut him off with a shout. "Moose!"

 113 Crawling Chaos 11

    Neil''s eyes shot back to the road. Seeing the huge antlered animal in front of them, the detective slammed on the brakes and went to swerve around it. Orison brute force yanked the car right back towards the animal causing them to smack it with a fifteen MPH speed. A half second later, an old pickup truck coming the opposite way, swerved around the back half of the moose that got knocked over and came to a slow stop a bit further up.


    Jumping out, Orison slapped a heal on the moose and burned a little of the stored essence in his body to drag it off the road. Further back behind them, the man shouted for them to get off the pass they were on as soon as they could. On either side of them was a nearly thirty foot drop to flood ravines and less than five feet of space past road side to them.


    Jumping back in, Orison told Neil to drive only to find out that their love tap had jarred something loose. Behind them, they heard the older man yell. Without wasting a moment to see why, Orison grabbed Neil and yanked him out the passenger side. Barely clear, they turned just in time to watch an early model box truck try and fail to stop before slamming into their car, sending it into the ravine.


    As if rising from the dead on fire, the moose scrambled to a stand and took off towards safety, back hooves momentarily dancing inches from them. Once it had cleared to the northern side of the pass, it turned around and brayed at them in complaint. The brief spot of levity allowed for Orison to reign in rising temper long enough to check on the box truck driver.


    Too shook up from thinking he''d just killed someone, Orison had to push the man over and bring the box truck to the other side of the pass and use parking downshift to stop it since the brakes were gone. The middle age man in the pickup and Neil both made their way to the southern side of the pass as well. Despite what had just happened, everyone involved was showing goodwill to each other until the box truck driver opened his glove box for a beer and Orison realized there were two empty cans in the floorboard of the passenger side.


    Biting his tongue, Orison just thanked the old man for a lift to the nearest town. He didn''t feel so grateful when he saw the old man turn the pickup north but by then he was already in the bed of the truck with Neil. Stopping at the sheriff''s office, it was a quarter til eight by the time all of their statements were recorded. Since it was factual that the breaks of the box truck had failed and there wasn''t such a thing as open container laws or breathalyzers, insisting that the box truck driver''s accident was due to being drunk was a stretch and insisting on that stance would only buy grief.


    With little option, Orison hurried over to their general store with Neil before it closed and bought some odds and ends. As soon as Neil suggested getting something from the diner, Orison hard vetoed. Both in a bad mood, they trudged over to the mislabeled ''motel''.


    As soon as Neil paid the sleepy desk clerk and they were in their two twin bed room, Orison said, "Help me push the beds to the center."


    Neil gave him a funny look and the young mage could taste blood in his mouth from where he bit his tongue to keep from raging out. "Once I''m done laying a simple ward, there will be plenty of room to separate them. The fact I have to say that to you makes me want to flatten your nose."


    Once he had helped rearrange a few pieces of furniture, Neil opened the can of mixed nuts that Orison had picked up from the store while the young mage went around the room using various hidden warding methods from the book.


    As he crunched through another handful in what Orison assumed to be an intentionally obnoxious manner, Neil said, "How much of what happened do you think was planned?"


    Flipping a wall picture to find a lopsided five point star with an eye in the center, Orison wiped it off with a presto and replaced it with a more orthodox seal. "All or none. It would be pointless to guess but since we''re here with nightfall just around the corner and the few people who have working vehicles not willing to take us back to town for even a hundred bucks, I''d say most."


    Neil scratched his head. "It doesn''t make sense. How? Those two men were straight as an arrow. No way it was staged."


    Orison said, "Suggestion more than likely. Not to be nit picky but how is a drunk driver ''straight as an arrow''? If he''d been sober there''s a decent chance he''d have stopped earlier instead of having to push his foot through the floorboard at the last second, popping his break line off or whatever happened."


    While Neil went on to almost completely offend Orison by defending the harmlessness of ''one or two'', the young mage finished sealing the door and window with an arcane lock. Asking for a moment of silence, Orison completely banished his rising hostility to ''air cast'' a circle, sticking a little magnetic chalk dust to the ceiling where it blended in with the yellowing white paint. After walking clockwise around the room three times to seal it, there was a faint sense of depressurization and a large amount of the irrational buildup of emotions disappeared as if it never had been there.


    Neil nearly dropped the can of nuts in his hand as he realized he''d been antagonizing Orison for no good reason while feeling a good deal angry himself. "I, I don''t know where that wild hair up my a** came from but I''m sorry."


    Orison pointed at the ceiling. "The worst part of suggestion is it''s ability to amplify or dampen down what''s already there. Most people never have to know how close we are to the nearly mindless animals we evolved from but people who''ve fallen prey to it become painfully aware. Don''t beat yourself up about it.


    "I''m taking a four hour power nap to try and juice up some. If you feel even the slightest bit uneasy, don''t hesitate to wake me up. At midnight, I''ll take over on the watch. If someone comes knocking on the door, ask them to come back in the morning. If it''s a person or situation that can''t be avoided, you can open the door but don''t, in any way, officially invite them in."


    Neil muttered his consent and another confused apology before taking out his notepad. Returning the room''s small table and chair back to its position under the window, the detective brewed a pot of coffee on the room''s provided hotplate and poured over his discoveries. Swallowing down the laundry list of other facts and cautions he could have shared, orison left the man to his detective process and got to his own business.


    After pulling the furniture back into a respectable degree of separation, Orison laid down and forced himself into trance. While his sub-mind ran a meditation cycle, it reserved a small portion of its attention to feeding small trickles of shaped spiritual intent into the circle, slowly empowering it. His last conscious thoughts were of pondering the difference between mystically will shaped intents and the powerful, nearly alive intent he naturally possessed.


    Coming to in a adrenaline rush of alarm, Orison had no idea how long or short a period of time he''d been unconscious. All he knew was that his life was being threatened. A faint, sickly sweet scent of decay assaulted his nose before it was replaced by stronger, only slightly less unpleasant smells he''d associate with a dirty brothel rather than a cheap but clean motel room.


    The young mage felt paralyzed. The heavy, football sized dark mass perched on his chest, revealed itself to be a monstrous fetus under spirit sight. The wrinkled and distorted features of its face were half hidden in a twisted parody of breast feeding as its lamprey mouth drew blood and trace amounts of Orison''s aura in with breath like regularity. Spindly spider legs that grew from the lower portion of the abomination''s body wrapped around the young mage, holding him in place.


    Instinctual fear and revulsion threatened to drown out rationality before Orison''s sub-mind stepped in to dilute terror with a cold splash of logical directive. Since the creature had created a single directional flow of essence, Orison took advantage to shove as much crystallized inert essence through as would fit. The monster fetus tried to back off but as soon as Orison''s arms were free of it vice grip legs, he latched onto the revolting thing''s head and kept it buried into his chest, pushing more inert essence through.


    Changing tactics, the creature tried to push the tips of it''s spider legs through the young mage like skewers. Unable to avoid, Orison alligator rolled with the creature onto the floor, disrupting thrusts of stiletto like appendages and rupturing its maggot soft midsection when he landed on it. Exposed to the air, the inert crystal''s rapid digestion and shunting halted before instantly decompressing into nothingness.


    The monster fetus wasn''t dead. Orison didn''t even believe such a thing was even truly alive to begin with, having more in common with a grudge. As whatever much larger thing was predating on Neil paused in its feeding to respond to the disorienting shriek of the young mage''s predator turned prey, Orison shoved himself back with as much force as he could muster. His augmented but partially paralyzed body mixed with a surge of telekinetic force to produce a hurling effect, slammed the young mage into a dresser.


    A mandible faced cadaver of a woman turned to look at Orison with promises of slow and painful death dancing in its multifaceted eyes. Ignoring a psychic assault meant to throw his conscious thought into disarray with the help of his sub-mind, Orison drew a dagger and ''sliced'' a five point star in the air. Feeling a building of ominous pressure aimed at it, the unknown creature scooped up its ''baby'' and went to bound out of the room.


    Orison wiped away the impulse to sneer at it as he tried to fill his head and heart with a sense of balance and judicious fairness. "Law of Three."


    The psychic connection between himself and the monster fetus severed. In spirit sight, Orison could see that the ''woman''s connection to Neil had also severed and become tied with his circle. Initially, Orison hadn''t considered the circle trap that had been inspired by the circle of Rose Cliff to be capable of much but he shuddered in fearful realization.


    The nightmarish mother and child before him almost instantly vaporized. They were merely projections of the far more powerful and dangerous source that sent them. Though the rebound pull of the circle didn''t even come close to destroying the source, it had taken a significant blow. That was far from the most urgent problem on Orison''s mind.


    A multitude of threads connecting the two projections to their still living victims spread out far beyond the young mage''s ability to see. The threads themselves were only visible due to the surge of vile, contaminated essence running through them. Neil and Orison would be protected from the majority of that by the circle but all those others who would ''benefit'' from the retributive threefold return of what had been stolen from them, were not.


    The Law that had been invoked was alien and pitiless. It only served it''s archetype and the directive of that archetype couldn''t be clearer. His circle was merely the catalyst for a force so far beyond him that Orison''s sub-mind simply aborted the very curiosity to try. He could only hope that the person they were sent to find had enough will and, for lack of a better label, good karma to survive their ''enrichment'' and still be human.


    Those precious few seconds of uncomfortably clear regret were the end of Orison''s ability to spare thought to other''s issues. His clever little trick of potentially trading large amounts of inert essence for something more useful ended up making him feel like an idiot. The young mage watched as the pressure inside the circle built and tar-like filth coated the extremities of the room. Under the immense empowering of the circle, inert essence pressure had temporarily abated, even reversed.


    In a desperate bid to receive what was coming with a relative degree of safety, Orison called out Herne and asked, "Is this something you can use? Is there a way to make it helpful for us?"


    In a specter state of almost real, Herne assessed the situation and said, "For yon hunter of truth, he is not in need of aid lest the circle fail. If you will your compensation to mine self, I can make use of it. Know that what I may tithe of use back to you, my lord, will be but a pittance."


    Taking it as his just desserts for greediness and thoughtless use of power, Orison said bitterly, "Then take it as my sincerity to you and return it in whatever best form oath and honor dictate."


    The ghostly figure of Herne looked towards Orison with an angry expression that turned into a weak smile of grudging respect. "Even in such a situation as this, my lord is unwilling to gracefully bear a loss. So be it. This vassal will remember my lord''s generosity."


    As Orison oversaw Neil''s recovery from an arthritic sack of ancient skin and brittle bone, he made vague guesses with his sub-mind''s help at how much dangerous and unusable ''resources'' he had ''lost'' to Herne. From the portions that were measurable in any way, he got the idea that three more of himself couldn''t have safely channeled it. The ''pittance'' that Herne had originally referred to had grown his condensed eternium formation by a third and nearly tripled his five colored soil volume from large bath tub to nearly economy car size. There was even a barely noticeable amount of existence strengthening mixed in with other, less tangible gains.


    The fey lord was an expert of efficient resource usage as well. While a great deal of the active power went to strengthen himself and his animal companions, a portion went into creating a demesne within Orison''s space nearly ten times larger than Orison''s own plane. Every bit of it was tied to Herne, however, and would leave with him when his service to Orison was over. While it was within Orison''s space, it would help support the growth of the young mage''s plane, allowing him to delve a little deeper into the concepts of life and death as well.


    Even the ''tar'' wasn''t spared a use. With a bit of the power influx, Herne crafted it into a small pack of ''sluagh'' hounds which the hunter merged into his deepening shadow. Through such an act, Orison could see the definite benefits of tying one''s self to a greater archetype but the cost was so immense, he''d never consider doing it. The path was linear and only had three endlessly repeating outcomes. One either became a part of, overcame or submitted to any entity of the same archetype they encountered.


    Once the pressure within the circle had reduced to a point that the surrounding inert essence began seeping back into the mage''s space again, Herne ceased his claiming and returned the circle''s control back to Orison. The hunter was no longer spectral but slightly more ''real'' feeling than Orison himself. As the fey lord turned to Orison, the young mage felt the pressure of Herne''s existence push against him.


    With confidence and strength somewhat restored, the hunter''s natural arrogance began shining through as well. "Here is what your sincerity earns you. I will serve as oath necessitates. If you sanction my allowance to woo your garden''s maiden, then she will be the only thing of yours I shall steal away with me when mine term of service is done. Do we have a bargain?"


    Orison thought to himself, "I can feel it. He wants to anger me, trick me into saying or doing something he can twist or use to free himself, gain power over me or make a lie out of my ''sincerity'' so he doesn''t owe me anything."


    Projecting a serenity it was impossible to feel being confronted by an entity that was significantly stronger, even if it was borrowed might, Orison said, "She is of me and another but she is her own being. If it is her will to accept you once she is fully grown into completeness then that is her choice, not mine. Just as it was my choice to offer mercy and aid to a defeated foe.


    "No matter how strong you become, Herne, it does not change was has already passed. Do as your oath and honor dictate and I''ll let the greater powers judge... You pledged yourself to my service but despite being a fallen enemy and sworn to serve, I have treated you like an ally and friend. What do you now try to treat me as? Where is YOUR sincerity?"


    Bursting into rage, Herne said, " Ally and friend!? You hand me a poisoner''s banquet prepared for yourself and expect me to treat it as though it were a king''s feast prepared for me. Where is the sincerity in that!?"


    Orison sighed. "Man this is tiring. How many f***ing times will people show their a**es as soon as they see a little advantage?... Then tell me, shadow of a shadow? If I was willing to sacrifice Neil and didn''t give a sh*t about the lives in this town, did I really have no way of keeping the whole damn thing for myself? Did I really have no way of turning the ''poisoner''s banquet'' into a king''s feast just for me?...


    "Yeah, that''s what I thought. You know I did... The reason you even exist, much less have the ability to parade your arrogance before me is because I had mercy on you. I have given you little reason to distrust MY sincerity, now think about yourself!?"

 114 Crawling Chaos 12

    Herne digested what the young mage said and retorted, "Do you stand before me and speak of mercy and charity when it was my usefulness, my ability that motivated it? With the greater powers as witness, do you claim your mercy was not motivated by the desire to use me?"


    Orison stood speechless but right before Herne''s predatory grin spread fully across his face, the young mage said, "Who would spare a worthless dog who''d already bared fangs at you once. Your ''usefulness'' was only balance against the risk of you turning to bite the hand that feeds you. Your very actions today justify that much...


    "Look at that man right over there and tell me I am only motivated by cold calculation. Remember back to the day I defeated you at the cost of my own life so that my friends would be spared and try to accuse me of that again! Swallow the rest of your dog sh*t excuses back down. Either you''re the honorable lord hunter you claim to be or you''re a clown playing pretend to borrow power and prestige that belongs to something you don''t actually have the ability to EVER be."


    Herne staggered, looking as if he had taken a dagger to the guts before dropping to a knee. While Orison looked at Herne in confusion, a small portion of the hunter''s ''realness'' broke free and merged with the young mage.


    Head bowed with a weak smile on his face, Herne said, "What you have just engaged in was a type of greater fey challenge, my lord. Your heritage is pure enough to concern yourself with such proceedings. Mine greater reflection is noble enough that I might borrow against it to teach. For certs tis only one way to learn and that is to experience. I hope this knowledge serves you well."


    Looking at Herne skeptically, Orison said, "You did all of that to teach me how to argue another fey to death?"


    Herne replied, "To the death? Mayhaps but only the death of the idea not true death. Tis close enough to mortal''s understanding of what death is... My lord has many questions I am certain but even now, my lord''s barrow dulls with new shade stone."


    Orison hurriedly ushered Herne back inside. Despite being in pain and displaying signs of weariness, the first thing Herne did was go and propose a walk through his new domain to Orison''s ''garden maid''. Belatedly, Orison realized that in the heat of the moment, he''d basically given Herne the right to pester her as much as the hunter wanted so long as she didn''t tell him to buzz off.


    There was no way the innocent and kind hearted creature she was literally born to be would do such a thing and there wasn''t a snowball''s chance in hell that she could match up against, much less see through, the old hunter''s guile and experience. She was as good as his so long as Herne didn''t scare her off. And if there was anything an old hunter understood, it was patience. When the young mage confronted him about it, Herne begged off by claiming that he was a master of wild cunning not courtly whit and clammed up.


    With a portion of what remained of the purified essence in his circle, Orison finished repairing Neil''s spiritual damage that no amount of returned or even extra vitality could really do much about. With a fervent hope it would make a difference, the young mage invoked the Law of Three to send some of it to Joshua for the small slight against the stranger and followed the line as far as he could with spirit sight. Lastly, he gathered up the rest and sent a small portion to the ginseng before bequeathing the remainder to the garden maid who he named Flora.


    Hitting Neil and the bed with ''presto'' to clean off unspeakable things, Orison threw a sheet over the man and waited for him to wake up. It was a few hours til morning and the young mage made the best of it by tidying up the room and removing traces of the battle that took place. By the time that dawn crested over the horizon, there wasn''t any signs that something supernatural had taken place aside from residual ''filth'' in one corner of the room that Orison kept around so that Neil could see it.


    Once the detective came to, Orison gave him a moment to get dressed in privacy and then asked him what the detective remembered. Sadly, it wasn''t much. Vague impressions of a woman and unexplained decision making that he wouldn''t have done under normal circumstances were the only thing that kept the detective from coming to some very rash and insulting conclusions about what happened during the night.


    To keep from having to answer questions and deal with a lingering suspicion in Neil''s eyes that Orison refused to dignify, the young mage showed him the spot of preserved ''filth''. He glossed over a great deal of gory detail but explained the key points the detective needed to know. Still looking somewhat unconvinced and struggling with a sense of having been violated, Neil asked for an organized facts list."


    Orison said, "You f***ed a monster that ate your vitality. I was attacked by its companion. I used the trap inside the magic circle I set up to ''kill'' them and give your vitality back with some interest. They were connected to a source somewhere close to the edge of town and I have a general idea of where some of the still living missing persons might be... You were right, by the way. Joshua is still alive. At least he was last night. If we don''t find him before tonight, I''m not so sure he will be."


    With a raised eyebrow, Neil said, "And you know that because of some lines in the air that only you can see?... I gotta lay the cards out here, kid. You''ve shown me enough that I''m not going to shoot you down without a little leg work first but there''s a whole lot of faith you''re asking from me... I don''t have a lot of that on a good day... But I''m telling you, on one side I feel like a million bucks and on the other, like I could fall apart with a sneeze. If I find out you''re yanking my chain on any of this, we''re done.


    "I can''t... I know I''ve got some problems saying no to a dame in need but I''m not... I don''t even know what to say except that if, and I''m saying IF, you did something to me, I don''t want to see you again or have anything to do with you. Understand?"


    Orison sighed, feeling a little numb to it all. "I could understand if, WHEN, you find out I''ve done nothing but try to help you, you still wanted to part ways. With no one left to blame but the one who brought bad sh*t into your life still around, all the hate, fear and distress needs a target. If that''s the way it plays out, I''m sorry and I DO understand."


    Frustrated, Neil scratched at both sides of his head in a frenzy, making him look a little crazy. "What that Carter fella does, ain''t on you. If there''s crazies and monsters of the fairy tale or people variety running around in this town, that ain''t on you either. It''s just a whole lot easier to believe a weird kid put a whammy on me and did some dumb things than accept all this gobbledygook.


    "I want to believe you. I don''t want to think that the kid who bailed my a** out of the fire, did... something to me. But you gotta see where I''m coming from. There''s another part of me that''d be a whole lot better off if I was just dealing with a good kid who was a little sick in the head than for all the crazy you''re laying down to be the truth."


    Orison nodded. "Too much, too soon. I can imagine situations like this have broken better people than the both of us. I just hope you''re a lot tougher than I have any right to expect because it''s not over... Are you still wanting to find your missing person? We can leave right now and walk out if we have to."


    Neil suddenly looked a whole lot firmer than he was a moment before. "No. First I need you to give me something I can see with my own eyes that what you say happened last night is the truth or at least the truth you know. Since that can maybe help us find our missing person, that''s a two point home run... If you can''t, I need to do what I think is right for Jessica''s sake and you need to get back to the city to clear your things out of my place."


    Even if Orison knew where it was coming from, hearing Neil state it so bluntly still made him angry.


    Scowling, Orison said, "Then shove some junk food down your throat and let''s get going. Your f*** buddy''s brother isn''t going to find himself."


    Getting a little red in the face, Neil said, "You don''t talk about her like-"


    Orison didn''t hear the rest as he had slammed the door to the room in Neil''s face. Taking a few breaths of fresh air outside, he got his temper back under control and waited for the detective on the porch. It struck him suddenly just how easy that was to do, now that he was out of the room.


    Through the window, Orison said, "There''s something in the room that amplifies negative emotions. My circle protected us from it but its broken now. Get out as soon as you can."


    Neil came storming out of the room like a thundercloud a minute later carrying the rest of the things Orison had bought at the general store the day before. A second later, Orison was dodging it as Neil slung the paper bag at him with enough force to rip the bottom out, scattering the contents over the lawn. With a quick look around to see that there wasn''t anyone looking, Orison used telekinesis to round everything back up and raised a challenging eyebrow at Neil.


    Neil blanched as he was reminded that the teenager in front of him wasn''t some brat that he could yell into submission. With a few steady breaths of his own and a few moments to validate Orison''s claim, he admitted that there was something ''fishy'' about how easy he''d gotten bent out of shape last night if not in the current moment. He still insisted on an apology about the slur aimed at Jessica which the young mage gave.


    In the lead for the moment, Orison dragged Neil back to the sheriff''s station. "Officer, there was someone snooping around our window early this morning and when I stepped out to see which way they were going, it was towards the northwest side of town. I was hoping you could come with us to look into it. It wasn''t much but there were some things sitting on the table under where the window is, that came up missing."


    The sheriff sighed, "I don''t know what to tell you, young man. The only houses out that way are empty. There''s only the old church and our community''s graveyard. I''m just glad you didn''t follow anyone out there. There''s been a few wild animal attacks over that way the last couple of years. If you''d like to file a report-"


    When the deputy on duty turned to get a statement form, Orison flashed Neil an ''aha!'' look.


    Neil stepped up. "Wasn''t worth much money wise. We''d just like to ask a couple folks and then just chalk it up to bad luck. Does the preacher live in the church? Maybe he seen something?"


    The deputy looked thoughtful. "The vicar does. He appreciates his privacy an awful lot, though. If it weren''t for the cemetery and some stubborn old folks, I don''t think that guy would have enough reason to call himself a holy man. I''ve never seen such a sourpuss.


    "I went to a sermon once when he first settled in. Hair raising... Look at me, clucking like a chicken. I don''t think I''ll be going with you but if you want to try it on, see if he''ll talk with you, go ahead. Fair warning, he''s as likely to drive you off as hear what you have to say... Oh, while I have you here. No one''s blaming you for what happened or anything but there''s been some grumbling that you should split the cost with old man Stevens to get your car fished out of the gully or whatever you call that."


    Neil was about to raise hell but Orison just asked how much that would be and shocked the deputy by pulling out just shy of what was needed and begged off the little bit difference.


    On their way to the church, Neil asked, "Why did you pay that? If they needed money to help cover it, they could have just claimed the salvage."


    Orison said darkly, "It''s a wedge. Once a few negative emotions build up towards us, they''ll get fanned up to violence quicker than we can respond. If you think things are unfair now, wait til this evening. By then, it''ll be all our fault and it''ll be you who was drunk or some other bullsh*t. It''s just how these things work. Footing the bill at least bought us a little more time."


    Walking up the winding road to the church, Neil was in a pensive mood. Considering what the man was tackling internally, Orison left him to it. If Neil didn''t need to follow through as much as they needed to provide some sort of answer to Mr. Carter, the young mage would have knocked the detective out and dragged him out of town if he had to. The place was only getting more dangerous by the moment.


    When they reached the from doors of the church and knocked, no one came to answer. Checking them, Neil found that they were locked. With a touch of magic they didn''t stay that way and by that point, the detective was ready for a little gray area rule bending if it meant he could get some answers.


    Stepping into the fellowship hall, it would almost be indistinguishable from a thousand other little shoe box churches built almost identically. It was a no frills establishment meant to invoke the idea of humble piety but under its dimly lit condition, it seemed to hint at a more sinister feeling. The lack of anything meaningful on a surface glance had subdued Neil greatly and it wouldn''t take long before the detective would call for them to leave but Orison had a different idea.


    Using spirit sight, Orison noticed that there was a faint hint of corrupted energy permeating the place. It might have been a house of God at one point but it now belonged to a far different power. Depending on definition, it could still be considered a place of worship but the power it seemed to be consecrated to was not one that could claim to be benign.


    It had been awhile since he''d needed to use it but the young mage fed essence into the core ''Locate Objective'' ability that seemed to be attuned to energy sources, if nothing else. On Osomo, it had been all but useless in most places as the whole world was one big source but here, it was like someone trying to find a light source in darkness. If there was one, it was all to easy to see. And find one, he did.


    In a space far below the alter there was a trail of angry dull reddish essence spotted with virulent pustules of green and brownish purples. Far into the distance underground, there was a congregating spot for it that instinct and common sense screamed was undeniable certain death or possibly something far worse. Unwilling to spend precious time looking for a way in, Orison spread out a little essence to ''see'' with before it was sucked into the magically dead air.


    Neil said, "There''s nothing here. If we leave before we''re called out it''ll be a lot easier to deny any wrongdoing than getting caught inside."


    Orison said, "There''s an underground passageway stained with fresh and old blood. Going too far in would be dumb but if we open it up and then have the local law come in and look, it''ll raise enough interest that we might be able to avoid some of the unpleasantness in store for us. If the forces at work behind the scenes here want to make trouble, I say, return the favor."


    Working a little more ''unlock'' on the alter, it made a click sound and slid on spring assisted tracks under the floor, out of the way. As soon as it came to a stop, the young mage purposefully misused ''lock/unlock'' to jam the mechanism. Once done, Orison stopped Neil from going down and brought him back to the sheriff''s office.


    The deputy frowned slightly at their return. "If you''re coming back to complain, I already warned you what it''d be like before you went."


    Orison said, "No! We went to talk to the vicar and found the doors to the church left wide open. There''s... there''s a hole in the church floor with bloody stairs going down into the ground. Something might have happened to him! Please get the sheriff!"


    Stepping back outside as the deputy locked up with a sign and rushed over to the diner, a lady walking from the grocery spat and said, "Are the big city folks looking for some other decent man''s livelihood to ruin around here?"

 115 Crawling Chaos 13

    Neil frowned and was about to speak before Orison said, "We went to the local vicar to see about setting up a fundraiser to get the poor man''s truck fixed. We know it''s hard and I''ve already given the money I was saving to get a new urn for my... my... Anyway, when we went in, the vicar was gone and there was stairs going into the ground over by the alter. I think there was blood on them. I hope the vicar''s okay!"


    The woman grabbed her chest and said, "Oh, you poor thing! Oh, the poor vicar!"


    The woman went striding off telling everybody about the bloody stairs at the church. Orison might have cheated with glamour a little but if the supernatural wanted to play dirty, it would be foolish to stand by and let a whole town of people get twisted into a mob against him and the detective.


    Neil gave him another strange look which prompted Orison to say, "Little white lie time, Neil. I don''t feel like being run out or run through with torches and pitchforks."


    Neil said, "You seem awfully good at it."


    Getting a little closer, causing Neil to be a bit on edge, Orison said, "I''m a teenager alone and with supernatural gifts, Neil. It''s either this or fates worse than death. What would you choose, before you get insultingly judgmental?.. I''ll buy a decorative urn for Kippers when we get back and make a fundraiser bucket to put in the general store if I have a chance."


    Not willing to let the momentum die, Orison spread a little more sympathy PR for the drunk driver he mildly despised while dishing what they ''stumbled into'' at the church. He even bought a tin of boy scout popcorn and turned it into a donation bucket. He also had Neil watching for suspicious movement which caused the detective to scoff and ask Orison what the teenager thought he was doing while Orison ''spread the fertilizer''.


    Within minutes, the people of the little town temporarily couldn''t have cared less about the city folks that got Old Jim in a bind. And while they were distracted, Orison planted a seed with a few people to make sure that Old Jim spent whatever donation money he got on getting his truck fixed instead of ''boozing it up''. It was a subtle reminder when the tide shifted back towards harassing them that the man they were white knighting wasn''t an angel.


    It came as no surprise that the forces in play immediately tried to turn a suspicious eye back on them as ''suspects'' but it was hard to do when Orison had already chopped certain possibilities off at the feet. It was his reason for going to the sheriff''s office before they did anything, creating a fake thief that could catch any and all kinds of gaff and temporary suspension of his ethical qualms about using glamour.


    On top of that, it was hard to point fingers at people who were only in town since the evening before when some of the blood had been dried on the steps and walls for who knew how long, a fact Orison was quick to subtly draw attention to during his ''story time''.


    As the church was cordoned off, Neil looked at Orison in frustration and said, "That was our ticket. How are you going to show me anything? How are we going to get to Joshua if we have to stumble over a sheriff who''s going to do everything he can to keep everyone out!"


    Orison looked towards the church with faint sadness in his eyes. "There were people there, Neil. There were nearly a dozen people and they were dead by the time we made it there. The source was fueling itself to face us. Now it has to face the scrutiny of the whole town...


    "We have somewhere else to be. The things and people who would have been our biggest obstacle and threat are now going to be busy working their dark doings under the blazing sun here....Let''s go."


    Working a ''don''t notice us'' glamour, Orison walked to the boat rental dock. Slapping a dollar on the counter, he signed them out a boat with a note that they were going to do some pleasure paddling to get the horror out of their heads. Surprising Neil, Orison insisted on rowing. It didn''t take the detective long to figure out why as they were cutting through the calm bay waters with the swiftness of a motor boat on low.


    In less than ten minutes, they were coming up on the edge of the line Orison could follow when he was tracking his small essence ''donation'' to Joshua. Neil helped to perch the boat on an outcrop. Neil watched in curiosity as Orison pulled the hidden hood out from the turtleneck and seal it to the edges of his face along with sealing the bottom of the turtleneck to the pants followed by the boots being sealed to tucked pants legs.


    Orison smirked. "That''s right. The single set of clothes you always seeing me wear are all kinds of versatile and if you hadn''t killed my motivation by your lackluster enthusiasm over your miracle undies, I might have been convinced to rig something up for you too!"


    Neil snorted. "What I don''t understand is why. Are you planning on trying to swim into a tidal cave during high tide?"


    Orison nodded. "It''s a little dangerous but I like to be as unpredictable as possible when going to the bad guys'' lairs... This is the other side. And while the whole town is drawing attention to the front door, I want to go through the back while everyone thinks it''s locked... Put what you don''t want to get wet together and I''ll wrap them up in my over robe."


    Neil didn''t move.


    Orison shrugged and said, "Alright then. Stay here and watch the boat by yourself. Good luck."


    Orison went to jump in and Neil said, "Wait!"


    Looking aggrieved, Neil stripped down and paused at the long legged boxer briefs, contemplating if naked or wet underwear was worse."


    The young mage said, "Keep the underwear set on. Not to mention they''re like armor but I can dry them off in a second or two. Everything else would be a lot of trouble, though. That goes double for the gun."


    Bundling everything up, Orison led the way into the water with Neil close behind. With an exercise of reserve draining telekinesis, the young mage got them through to the other side before Neil almost used the mask in a panic. Little light of day made it through the water to the other side. Neil could barely see but he could see Orison''s eye''s just fine.


    Unable to help himself, Neil fixed onto the dim glow of the young mage''s eyes and breathlessly said, "What are you?"


    Leaving Neil to put himself back together, Orison inspected the cave while he said, "Annoyed. Focus on what we''re here for."


    The detective bickered, "I don''t know about you, low beams, but I can''t see past my nose in here."


    Sighing, the young mage cast out a light and stuck it to the ceiling. Clusters of aquatic life mixed with salty buildup on the cave walls made Orison''s spirit sight all but useless. ''Find Objective'' only let him see power sources and there was nothing to easily indicate a secret entrance but he knew there had to be one in the cave somewhere. Not for the first time, Orison desperately missed Gan.


    For a few seconds, Neil looked at Orison stupefied as the young mage was walking around, feeling things. "Hey, kiddo. You threw a light right beside it. Are you looking for buried treasure or something?"


    Orison looked up, confused. It just looked like bumpy ceiling to him. Seeing Orison look genuinely stumped, Neil actually showed a brief flicker of amusement. Getting the mage''s help, Neil reached up past what looked like uninterrupted stone to Orison and felt around til he pulled down a rope ladder.


    Then it dawned on the young mage what his problem had been. Spirit sight washed everything out and whatever night vision that Rithus''s donated heritage gave him, made shadows fainter or removed them altogether. Normal human eyes could see what his couldn''t, a dark patch the mage light Orison stuck to the ceiling caused. Under normal light conditions, no one else would be able to see it either but whatever supernatural trick was in play and optical illusion did nothing against a light shining directly over the gap.


    Suddenly looking a great deal more confident, Neil took the lead. Once they had reached the top, they both focused in on the thick iron door coated with ''black paint''. Under Orison''s spirit sight, the door buzzed with sinister intent. With a quick movement, the young mage kept Neil from touching it.


    "If you touch it, you''ll die. Curse doesn''t even cover what''s on that thing," Orison explained.


    Neil said, "For once, I got nothing to say. I get the heebie-jeebies just looking at it. Well, this is your time to shine. Give it the what for and lets get going."


    Orison muttered to himself, "I know they''ve got regular people under thrall. I just know it... How would they get through it?"


    Neil said, "What''s the hold up?"


    Holding back a retort, Orison said, "Brute force will draw too much attention. Directly breaking the ''whatever it is'' on the door will do the same and probably be hazardous to my health... I''m trying to figure out how the thralls, cultists or whatever mortal agency, opens it without croaking."


    Neil said, "Can''t you just open it with your mind? Is that still considered touching it?"


    "Only one way to find out I guess. Stand back a bit, just in case," Orison said as he sent a weak bit of telekinesis over to the door, ready to break connection.


    Nothing jumped back at the mage. The mixture of magic and a trace of psionic energy just sizzled like bacon for a second before it was gone. It could be done but it would be costly. Building up a maximum safe charge, Orison reached out with telekinesis and yanked. The door didn''t budge because it was locked.


    Orison wanted to smack himself for being dumb but there was nothing to be done about the waste. He cast an expensively overcharged unlock and tried again, less than a week''s reserve left. His remaining would have to be used judiciously or it might be some time before he would be using his abilities again for daily needs.


    With a screech that left Orison''s teeth itching and both of their nerves frayed, They took a look inside. It was like another world, a terrifying and hellish one. The tunnels looked like they were made of flesh. There wasn''t a dry, gore free spot to be seen. From their vantage point, it was as if they were about to walk into a large throat with unswallowed chunks of people and animals stuck all over.


    Hearing Neil hyperventilate beside him, Orison suddenly realized that there were alien dimension aspects inside. He quickly covered Neil''s eyes and redid the ''don''t think about large boobs'' trick. Being in a damned either way scenario, Orison asked the detective if the man wanted to wait outside or follow him in. The man''s surprising courage up to that point actually buckled for a second.


    Neil said through dry swallows, "Is there a way for me to see without feeling like my brain''s going to leak out of my ears?"


    Clueless, Orison asked Herne.


    The hunter laughed at Orison''s question as his fascinated gaze never left Flora who was currently ''adding some color'' to Herne''s domain with a few spirit grass sprouts taken from the fringes of Orison''s plane. "Anoint his eyes with thine blood, my lord, or find a stone that water and time hath made hollow through. That will let him see truly but mayhaps not without consequence. Tis not the fringes of unfettered realm that is issue here. For certs tis the emanations of a mad god. Even thine own gifts may not stand proof, my lord."


    Orison told Neil, "I can dab your eyelids with a little of my blood and that should stabilize things a bit but not for long. I''m not even fully alright. We need to get in and out as quick as possible."


    After getting the go ahead, Orison cut his thumb with his dagger lightly and did the deed while Neil quipped sarcastically, "This day''s just been peachy so far. Let''s take road trips more often. I hear there''s a nice stretch of road paved in good intentions that''ll take you to a prime vacation spot."


    Catching a hint of enjoyment from the gallows humor, Orison said, "Yeah, lets find a good top of the line speedster next time. We''ll make sure to soak our shorts in gasoline while we''re at it."


    As they made their way in, Neil whispered, "It''s not helping a whole lot. I''m thinking, if we don''t find Joshua close that we''re gonna have to call it a lost cause. I can''t imagine what someone would be like after a couple of hours in here, much less days."


    In a round, mucous covered stomach room, they found people chained to the moderately acidic walls in various stages of digestion and monstrous transformation. Orison was horrified that he was responsible for the second part but ultimately, it didn''t matter much. Unpleasant flashbacks of the gold elf testing facilities overlapped with current vision to produce a knee weakening moment for the young mage.


    Through watery eyes, Orison muttered to himself, "Keep it together. Shove it down. Nervous breakdowns and PTSD is for AFTER you''re not in danger anymore."


    While Neil worked to free the still human looking ones that weren''t gibbering too much, Orison peered further in to see a cleared platform, like an island of ritual space. On it were four people tied to a seven foot tall standing stone. All four were facing inwards and slumped against it weakly.


    Moving closer, all four of the blindfolded people looked towards Orison but only one seemed to have any real energy to the movement and that one said, "How much longer? You''ve already brought us to the edge of death so many times only to bring us back. Our gifts are spent. Just let us die already, please!"


    Orison said, "Mr. Carter blackmailed us into coming on a suicide run to rescue you. Do you want to go home or do you believe that death would be better. I''ll try my best to do the first if you want but I''ll grant the second if that''s what you prefer. I know, sometimes death is just better."


    The one speaking, Orison recognized a Joshua. The other three were unknown to him but he could feel the faint presence of supernatural power within Joshua and a barely flickering presence of one within a woman next to him. The other two really were ''burnt out''. All four had severe damage to their channels and none of them looked to have more than a couple of years worth of vitality left in them.


    The retribution return had all but been drained back out of them already. Knowing what nasty surprise was hidden inside of it, that was for the best in Orison''s opinion. What wasn''t that good was no one but the woman wanted to live. Joshua, for whatever reason, didn''t believe they''d escape and didn''t want to prolong his suffering anymore.


    Before, Neil finished combing through the lost causes for ones to save, Orison delivered a swift and merciful end to the two ''burnt out'' ones before cutting down the woman and Joshua. "I''m sorry, man. Your sister won''t let my friend off the hook if we don''t try to bring you back. I''m not sure your boss will either. Just try, okay. Just try one more time and if you can''t do it, I''ll understand."


    The man wept but the mention of his sister made him nod reluctantly. The unknown woman didn''t say anything, she would only give a nearly imperceptible nod or shake of the head as if she was saving every last precious drop of stamina for one extra second of chance to live. She was the toughest kind of survivor and had likely been here for quite a bit longer if her nearly skeletal frame actually indicated anything compared to the other, less emaciated ones.


    It came as no surprise, that mere seconds after they had been taken from the standing stone a shudder ran through the fleshy tunnel. A fire man''s carry over each shoulder, Orison was speed walking back to keep from jarring his shoulders'' passengers too much. As he passed Neil all he said was time''s up and left the man to his own tortured decisions.


    As he approached the iron door, a surge of power ran through the tunnel to it and attempted to slam it in his face. With a max push, Orison slammed it with as much telekinetic force as he could. With an agonized look, Neil was right behind him with only two people as well and neither of them looked that capable of recovery but Orison said nothing, only ushered him through.


    Making it to the hole in the floor past the iron door, Orison jumped down and pushed another telekinetic shove through stressed channels to cushion their landing. A faint trail of wetness traveled down his nose before a tang of copper spread in his mouth. Enduring a wave of dizziness, Orison looked up to see Neil carrying one partially digested person down the ladder with unshed tears in his eyes.


    Edging to the water, Orison said, "Looks like your clothes are going to get wet after all, Neil. You got a mask and you have your choices... Alright, you two. I''m shifting to an underarm carry. What little healing I''ve flashed through you is all I got to give for the moment. Take a few breaths and when I say breath deep, take the best one you can."

 116 Crawling Chaos 14

    On the way up, the woman who Orison was carrying was just too weak to hold her breath and took in water, drowning. Once he reached the surface he laid her out and gave her CPR laced with a touch of healing the mage gave grudgingly with less than two days worth of reserve left. With a weak cough that was more a rattly spit, the woman started breathing again but her pulse was thready.


    By the time that Orison had the two loaded into the boat, Neil popped up to the surface with a dead man. Since the boat was big enough, if barely, the young mage didn''t object to Neil bringing the person''s body aboard. AS Orison rowed the paddles for all he was worth, Neil looked down at the dead man silently.


    As they neared the shore, Neil said, "Was it for nothing? Did anything I tried mean anything?"


    Between labored breathes, Orison said, "It matters. Most importantly, you can sleep knowing that even though you didn''t bring anyone back alive, you did bring one back and you did everything that you could without dying yourself. Maybe you don''t believe that right now but it''s true."


    Pulling the boat into the recreational shed dock, Orison said, "Neil, go start yelling for help. I''ve got to get these two stabilized as best I can."


    Laying them out, Orison said, "Here in a moment there''s going to be people asking you questions. I need you to either tell them you were held by crazy people or say nothing at all. If you start spilling the truth, they aren''t going to believe a word you say and you might find yourself being taken off somewhere that will be the same, if not worse, than where I got you."


    A few seconds later, a couple of people were coming down the hill to check on the situation. In Orison''s spirit sight, he could tell that one of them had a dark and filthy aura. He didn''t waste a second. Orison lashed out with as fast and concentrated a spike of devouring intent he could and destroyed the man''s seat of consciousness, watching as half his space filled up with inert essence again.


    There was a small amount of strengthening to his formation but the amazing thing was, a little of the waste in his latticework disappeared. Half expecting to see it clogged up, he was taken by surprise. Whatever mysterious principle that made it possible was beyond Orison''s understanding.


    He shouted as he pushed with his glamour, "The sight must have been too much for him! I think he just had a stroke or something!"


    As the remaining person slapped the man''s face a couple of times and tried to bring the man back around, more people came down the hill along with a gaggle of rubberneckers. Sparing not a single second, Orison twisted, connived and abused people''s free will with his glamour until they saw themselves in the back of a wood panel station wagon on their way to the ''big city'' hospital. With so much flagrant disregard for morality, it didn''t surprise him to see the small amount of waste that had disappeared just as mysteriously return to the latticework.


    Anticipating the upcoming border and its incompatibility with his equipment, Orison let out a pained whimper as he pushed a telekinetic wedge in front of the general store lady''s car. As they passed through, there was a sluggish feeling that passed through all of them and even busted a few surface capillaries in the store owner''s legs but they made it through. With little more than dregs left of his reserve, Orison felt himself slipping into trance as a trickle of wetness much more prolific than the first time ran down the drying red trail under his nose. With a last fighting burst of will, Orison told Neil to call Mr. Carter first and tell the man everything in person, not over the phone.


    The young mage was jostled from his recovery by a booming baritone voice in his aching head. "Call the hunt or all will die. Once done, I shall have purpose and I may not serve as I have, my lord, but I shall tithe to thee."


    Disoriented and insensate, Orison let his sub-mind decide and drifted back off. In what only felt like seconds (nearly a quarter of an hour according to his sub-mind), Orison was knocked out of trance by the sound and violent swerving caused by a blown tire. The lady driving claimed that she had a spare but was afraid that it had been some time since she''d checked it.


    Being near it, the young mage checked to discover that it was indeed flat as well. With an inward groan, Orison whipped up the last wisps of free reserve he had and mended it while giving rise to a little air inside. Right before lapsing into unconsciousness again, Orison reported that the tire was decent enough to get them to Port Haven. The last fully conscious thought the young mage would have for quite some time was of rolling out the back of the ''Willy'' wagon because the back door/tailgate hadn''t been latched properly and crossing the ragged boundary still exerted some pressure against him.


    Suspended inside the ragged boundary instead of passing through it as a car would allow caused a strange sense of slowness to envelope Orison. Not truly conscious, the young mage''s sub-mind worked to raise him and make their way through. Shy of the other side, the slowness intensified and a sense of falling sideways even as he stood was the last input of any kind before the sub-mind sensed nothing.


    The occasional muted sense of someone or something passing in and out of his space was the only thing that gave the ''feeling'' of time passing within the motionless still frame he had ''fallen'' into. For the briefest of moments, Orison moved from a hard tug around his physical body before it felt like something passed through him. Though time was measureless in whatever crack of reality he''d fallen in, there was an intuition of a substantial amount passing before there was another tug on something close to his chest.


    A feeling of passing through a resilient soap bubble preceded the return off all sensation. Even though it was dark, it felt too bright. Every minute flicker of input that danced over his skin felt so intense for the first few seconds, it almost caused him to lose consciousness again but he fought to stay awake. The very notion of giving up all the overwhelming number of tiny little proofs he existed terrified him.


    Even with the help of his sub-mind, reassertion over long unused motor skills proved too much of a challenge as he tumbled into a sturdy frame wearing a leather jacket. While he struggled to gain his footing almost as awkwardly as a newborn colt, his mind reeled from the nausea inducing cologne to the millions of ions passing between himself and the person keeping him from eating dirt.


    Each passing millisecond, Orison''s sub-mind steadily lowered the intensity of sensation input to tolerable levels. He couldn''t feel the passing of ions. The cologne mellowed out to something ''almost'' pleasant. A million other overwhelming things came into a crystal clear focus he could handle.


    Cold, logical information started filling in the gaps as his mind freed up resources for higher brain functions. Tactile sensation felt welcomed, pleasurable after having felt nothing for so long. His mind explored, identified and labeled. All that he was seeing and hearing, all the smells and physical sensations began to have meaning. Those meanings served functions.


    This was a person. That person was a male. He was wearing different types of clothes and Orison was wearing an over robe with nothing else. The male was slightly warmer. He was having an involuntary response to Orison''s naked touch. It wasn''t a conscious choice. Orison knew that because he felt a small increase in blood flow as well. It was embarrassment. Both of them were embarrassed.


    At first Orison didn''t care because touching felt good but then he did as emotional and logical intelligence fed him information. The combination of emotional and physical sensation he was seeking was affection. Affection was something one primarily sought from the object of one''s desire after puberty. Males did not fit that predisposed pattern for Orison. That didn''t HAVE to matter but instinct mixed with knowledge revealed other purposes for affection and filled in why it mattered to other people and should matter to him.


    Able to stand, Orison released his grip and backed away. The early twenties male kept steadying hands on Orison''s shoulders, just in case, but appeared to be relieved for the distance between them. The sounds that the young man was making became patterns that transformed into information in the form of words.


    At first the words were coming too fast for Orison''s mind to assign meaning and then they started making sense. While the young man spoke, Orison''s mind finished establishing previous order with slightly more efficient usage. Curiosity awakened along with other needs and wants.


    The man in front of him was Jimmy, Jerry''s younger brother and one of the three J''s. Through what Jimmy could share, the young mage realized he had been stuck in a sub-dimensional crack for nine years. From Jimmy''s point of view, things were a great deal more simple.


    He had come up with Neil and a few other folks he didn''t know at the year anniversary of Orison''s disappearance there. They hadn''t been alone. There was news people too.


    Out of everyone, Jimmy was the only one who came the third year and only because he''d caught his older brother kissing his girlfriend and had stolen his father''s car at the tender age of fifteen. Realizing the day and having nothing better to do, he came. With Neil having moved to the ''Big Apple'' and the pretty Asian lady being married with a baby to look after, he was the only one who showed up.


    Probably having more to do with feeling sorry for himself after catching his brother putting moves on his girlfriend, Jimmy admitted to feeling broken up about Orison seemingly having been forgotten. That''s when an ''angel'' with a ''halo'' made of flowers appeared and told him that Orison wasn''t gone, he was trapped. She gave Jimmy the bronze sun medallion and told the boy that if he returned with that medallion in two years at sun down, he could save Orison.


    The boy returned home in a daze and got the beating of his life from his father but he never forgot. Two years later, he came back but never told anyone. He said it was because he was afraid of what people would think but Orison wondered if it was partly because of the ''angel'' he hoped to meet again. After all, it could have just been a crazy but beautiful woman yanking his chain but at his age then, crazy just made beautiful more approachable. Orison would have liked to introduce him to Rose.


    The ''angel'' didn''t appear but for a few seconds, Orison did. Reaching out, Jimmy grabbed Orison by his shirt and pulled. It was working but less than two seconds later, the whole suit from turtleneck to boots, came through the young mage''s fading body. The woman''s voice said that he''d almost succeeded and that if he could still find the heart to care three years later, he could try again.


    Year six, his girlfriend at the time followed him secretly. She was convinced he was riding out to hook up with a ''fast'' girl somewhere else. The argument they got into caused Jimmy to miss his moment to save Orison and the explosion afterwards ended their relationship. He probably wouldn''t have came back for year nine had it not been for the sound of a woman''s weeping he had heard before he rode away. That sound haunted him. Jimmy''s story that had Orison reading between the lines to really understand, finally ended.


    The young man looked around and shouted, "Well, I finally got it done. I, uh, hope you''re happy now and don''t gotta cry no more."


    Orison could tell that Jimmy was ''hoping'' for a lot of things but there wasn''t so much as a peep uttered for him. Orison, on the other hand, got a message from both the flower maid and Herne. Apparently, by fey standards, Orison was the maid''s father in spirit and for them to have a ''fulfilling'' union, Orison had to release her from his barrow to join her intended''s. It was as simple as cutting her loose from his plane in a way that Herne could intercept. It took more time to blink than finish.


    With a silent well wishing, Orison prompted the disappointed Jimmy with a quick question. "Do you have my clothes by any chance?"


    Spluttering for a second, the young man reached into the saddlebag on his motorcycle and handed Orison a set of slightly moldy smelling swim trunks and a shirt. Orison hit them with a presto before putting them on.


    Looking down in the dumps, Jimmy said, "Nine years and two main squeezes later, no angel, huh?"


    Orison chuckled. "If you''re good at keeping secrets, my gratitude isn''t too shabby of a consolation prize."


    The young man looked at Orison with an appraising eye and said, "You grant wishes or something?"


    At the absurdity of it all, Orison laughed until a tear came rolling out. "I''m no Jinn but if you have some realistic wishes, I can give it a shot. Believe me. Between the two, I''m probably the safer bet."


    Jimmy shrugged, trying to act cool while thrumming with anticipation inside. "Let me think on it. Speaking of which, you got a place to crash?"


    Orison said, "Until I can get a hold of some people, I could do with a place to be instead of roaming around til morning."


    The ride back was an hour of heart stopping hell. There was no supernatural events, just a young man who liked to show off. Once Jimmy realized that Orison actually didn''t like the thrill of speeding around other vehicles and popping wheelies, he actually mixed it up with other fate tempting maneuvers until the arms gripped around his chest felt like they were going to break his ribs... literally.


    The torture was over for both of them as they pulled up in front of a familiar, if a little more dingy and run down, apartment building. "I got Rhoda''s old place for real cheap. No one wanted it cause it smelled like cat p*ss and old lady but I fixed it up good in the last couple of years... Don''t tell the landlord. He''ll raise the rent on me... I keep a bucket of used cat litter and some tarped dirty rugs in the coat closet I open up and lay down when he comes around. So yeah, don''t open the coat closet. I keep jack else in there."


    Over the next couple of hours, Jimmy chatted with Orison. They talked about where people were and what they were up to. Jimmy touched on important world events and after a a beer or two, about his crushed hopes and dreams. While the young mage half listened, he began combing through internal changes and piecing together what happened to him over the nine years spent as an amber trapped fly.


    At a casual glance, Orison had to exercise his meditative training to keep from losing control. The tiny remaining mote of condensed eternium and the thimble full of inner plane weren''t nearly what they appeared. It was because the stable part of space around his eternium formation had grown exponentially larger.


    The young mage had no idea how or what it would take to accomplish the growth of his space in such a way that it wouldn''t have overwhelmed and destroyed him but it had. At it''s center, a basketball sized orb of condensed eternium blazed fiercely and even produced enough residual heat that it couldn''t be touched by him physically anymore without being severely burned. A thin, hazy ring of motes circled the orbit of his inner plane as several more were scattered sparsely across it like twinkling stars.


    His inner plane, the shape of a sheered off inverted mountain top, was easily over half a football field wide in diameter on the surface. There was a hole around the size of his plane before the incident that was half filled with ''heavy'' water, that for all it appeared was more like clear, pure vital essence in liquid form. The rest of the surface was a partially spiritual herb and flower garden. Despite their acquired spiritual nature, the actual use of the plants wasn''t much removed from their mundane cousins but would lend themselves to magical application much better.


    Gone was the original spiritual grass and aside from a small patch of ginseng and a couple of other mildly supernatural use plants, it was practically a semi ghost garden. All the five colored soil was gone too but the dark, loamy earth and nearly diamond hard shell that cupped it all felt more intimately his, an extension of him rather than something he possessed. For all that it seemed impressive and even nice to look at, he''d have to carefully consider value vs. cost of letting more inert essence into his space or it''s equilibrium could easily be destroyed and there wasn''t anything helping to protect that equilibrium on his behalf anymore.


    While rubbing the mustard seed bracelet on his bracelet, Orison contemplated its claiming of the original plane material and spirit grass. He balanced it on the scale of what the bracelet had done for him and how, with Herne and Flora''s help, it had ended up being for the best. Without the bracelet, that plane wouldn''t have survived Osomo''s claiming and his sub-mind had plenty of time to study what it was the spirit grass did anyway. He let it go without a fuss and felt a slight sense of acceptance form between him and the bracelet.


    The young mage released a handful of preying mantis sized orbs of ''proto'' fairies that he''d let determine their own identities and appearance as they matured, to somewhat fill the function of overseeing plane growth and garden tending. He realized that his new limit on evolving summoned creatures had more to do with his soul''s ability to nurture them than his plane''s ability to support them. After summoning a horse and a two foot tall ''proto'' elemental of each classical element, he felt like it wasn''t a good idea to create any more for the time being.


    With nothing else of importance to note, Orison turned back to focusing a little more politely on what Jimmy was rambling about. A few seconds later, the young mage''s sub-mind brought to his attention a very import ant fact. His crystal capsule was missing as well.

 117 Crawling Chaos 15

    Externally, Orison was calmly absorbing Jimmy''s babbling but inside he was ready to set off nukes. Right before he would have made an outrageous request to Jimmy for a return to where he was rescued from to confront Herne, his sub-mind started noticing things that suggested the fate of the capsule that caused him to wait. Minutes and a few lame attempts at acknowledging Jimmy''s concerns later, Orison realized that there were some new items in the less tame outer areas of his space.


    The enrichment of concepts that allowed the elementals as well as the more complete status of the fairies were one clue denoting some boundary item consumption. That was complemented by an increase in ''realness'' that wasn''t drastic but far from insignificant. A few yes/ no style inquiries directed at the bracelet indicated that it had taken some things suitable to cultivators but not useful to anyone else. A few more allowed Orison to piece together that Herne had taken a good chunk as ''dowry'' for Flora. He wanted to get mad but the girl did rope someone into rescuing him and Herne hadn''t really done anything that wrong, at least in the dubious weakly positive opinion of the bracelet that couldn''t really talk.


    Orison thought to himself, "Even if I did storm up there for an accounting, I don''t even know what was taken and I''d definitely destroy goodwill in the process of trying to figure it out. I don''t like it but it is what it is, I guess... Mythology around the world depicts fey as capricious and alien minded. I should probably feel grateful I was left with anything when I came out."


    One look at the eternium formation and over doubled strength of his soul, Orison knew that Herne''s ''tithe'' hadn''t been a small thing. He could even feel a slow strengthening of his body, delayed due to circumstance, taking place. He had no doubts that the hunter would have helped himself generously but all Orison could do was absorb the lesson and take future precautions.


    While contemplating how much of his current gains had come from Herne''s tithes, Orison considered another tithe that was overdue for a draw. There was a possibility of nothing happening but there was also some inherent danger. His curiosity was burning but it didn''t seem like a good time to scratch that particular lottery ticket. He at least wanted to take some precautions first.


    "So what do you think? Any of that give you some ideas on what kinda juju you can whistle up for me?" Jimmy said, mildly hopeful.


    Orison resisted the urge to laugh. Reading between the lines, the guy wasn''t overly bright but was a decent person. Without the crushing mountain of insecurities, he''d be able to make it into the world just fine and have a fair shot at all the underlying desires the far less realistic ones had sprang from.


    The young mage said, "Well, I''m really not a jinn. I''m not a devil that can conjure things like musical talent out of thin air, either, even if you were willing to sell your soul for them, which I''m glad you''re not. That would be a sh*t trade.


    "I''m kinda big on treating people how I''d like to be treated so I won''t be making any girl you want fall in love with you... Wait, alright. I''m about to get to the good part... I don''t have ''snap of the finger'' ways to help you get much of your wants but this is what I can do. I can make some special medicine that will make you healthier and by proxy, more desirable. It''s got some other positive side-effects that means you have to keep it to yourself...


    "If your granny''s dying or some other such inevitable emergency, feel free to reach out to me if you can. If you ever spill a word, I won''t do a single thing for you. I''ll even treat you like a nut job in front of others and possibly do some bad things privately. If you can accept that, then that''s one down.


    "If you give me a little time, I can probably throw some cash at you too. Not some ridiculous amount but enough to give a leg up. Wealth is just a means to an end. If you don''t have a solid goal, even large amounts of wealth can disappear after awhile and you still won''t have much to show for it."


    Disappointed, Jimmy said, "I was expecting, I don''t know, something more magical. If it was something I could DO, not just have, that would be so cool."


    Raising an eyebrow, Orison said, "Do you want power? I might be able to awaken some gift in you but I warn you, that side of things distances you from the world as you know it. The more power you have, the more distant you become. It''s trading one set of problems for a whole new set you have no experience dealing with. Ultimately, you might have to leave all you knew behind to keep it safe or because you''re forced to. Look at me. I was trapped in a crack of reality for nine years.. Sh*t like that happens."


    Looking thoughtful, which also looked somewhat painful for some reason, Jimmy said, "Couldn''t it be just a touch of something? Like some little knack that could be played off as a trick? Maybe it could be small but boss."


    Quickly running options through his head, Orison did think of one thing. It carried a little potential long term danger to longevity but it was fairly safe otherwise. More importantly, it was a good experiment with little chance of harm Orison couldn''t help fix.


    The young mage nodded. "A little magic with a little risk is doable but it''s more of a try with a decent chance of success rather than a definite guarantee."


    The guy nearly jumped out of his skin in excitement and babbled all kinds of nonsense that Orison let run in one ear and out the other. Once Jimmy had calmed down some, he explained what it was he was going to do and ran through all the potential use and cautions he could think of. As complicated as pulling it off was, it really just boiled down to tying off a minimized, streamlined summon model to Jimmy''s soul. It took nearly all his ''know how'', sub-mind guidance and observation of Prime Titania mixed with Herne''s transfer of Flora''s anchor line to be possible.


    When the anchor line from the model sunk into Jimmy''s soul, Orison had to muffle the man''s mouth with a pillow as Jimmy screamed and weakly flailed around. And as the model transitioned from theoretical to actually existing, Orison removed a small pinch of mud from below the vital essence ''water'' on his inner plane and used that to cover a single mote of condensed eternium before placing it into the partially summoned entity. The flash of excess energy and vital force the model couldn''t contain was filtered through it and into Jimmy. Needless to say, the man was out for the night.


    Since it would be morning before the end result was observable, Orison called it a night too. The next day was going to be exhausting if not eventful. The young mage hoped it wouldn''t be painful.


    As soon as Orison''s trance ended, he slipped into a round of meditation and a round of training, skipping the few parts that might be disruptive. After cleaning up, Orison took inventory of the large handful of items that came from the capsule no one had wanted, since that was all that was left. All of it was boundary items but none of it had even the slightest sign of supernatural quality. Having some heart, Herne had left a little vulgar wealth in the form of a few pieces of gaudy jewelry and random knickknacks.


    Flung to the far corners of Orison''s space, where it was hard to look at directly, the young mage''s sub-mind revealed a couple of hidden things and a piece of compacted five color soil in the shape of a dog''s jawbone. Orison wiped a tear from his eye as he tried desperately to hold in his laughter. Poor Nibbles had chewed on the capsule one too many times and had gotten himself blown up. It wouldn''t have killed the creature because its true core was in Herne''s shadow but Nibbles was most definitely traumatized. The mustard seed bracelet''s growing displeasure over what must have been a fairly traumatic event for it as well, sobered Orison up.


    Of the two remaining items, one was a small box the size and shape of a reading glasses case made of some unknown metallic material. Resting inside were three black pearls. On the inside of the upper lid was a scratched out company logo with a description of the product in the case. Apparently the three black pearls were TSSRR or ''Teaser'' suits.


    Ignoring up-sell and a small advertisement for more expensive versions, the young mage read what little relevant information there was on the Tactical Self-repairing, Space ready suit. One was labeled ''Wise'', boasting enhanced functionality for casters and, reading between the lines, crappy anything else. One was labeled ''Bold'' which boasted enhanced strength and durability. The last was labeled ''Swift'' which was a lighter, streamlined version of the second with some of the increased flexibility features of the first.


    Shrugging, Orison picked up ''Swift''. As soon as he did so, the other two pearls merged with it. He was a little disappointed thinking he had two others and wanted to try them all to see which one he wanted more but that choice was no longer available. While he tried to figure out what he was supposed to do next, the pearl liquefied in his hand and started creeping all over the place. He didn''t panic until his sight was covered but that only lasted for a moment before he could see through a cleared spot in the helmet that had formed around his head.


    It took him nearly an hour to figure out how to get the helmet retracted and another few minutes to retract the whole suit. Unlike the helmet, which required three quick taps on the temple, the suit required a verbal command which was recorded while Orison was looking over the case for more instructions. His suit would respond to ''zero f***s given'', a running commentary about poor posting of instructions. For the same reason as the strange command to retract, the reactivation place for the suit was close to his left armpit where he had been tucking his right hand as part of his subconscious thinking pose.


    Reactivating the suit and retracting the helmet, Orison put his over robe on. Looking himself over in the bathroom mirror, he came to the conclusion that as long as he had the robe on, the overly form fitting nature of it wasn''t that embarrassing and toned it down from outlandish to just a little eccentric. He thought the slight magnetism of the stag pin to the circle spot on his chest was a nice touch until he realized it was a ''custom enchantment'' slot that was copying over whatever supernatural property the pin had he wasn''t even aware of.


    Once it was finished copying, Orison activated it but only found himself slightly more emotional, timid and afraid feeling. He realized it was because his sub-mind was analyzing the second item that had been hiding in his space''s fringe area. The silver ring with a ruby looking gem setting looked a lot like a class ring but with somewhat arabesque writing on the sides along with a intricate seal carved into the mirror shine surface of the stone.


    The ring was a hazily self aware conduit with spacial properties. Orison had a feeling that before other items had been selected to be chowed down by his space first, it have been on the cutting board until his space rejected it due to structure poison. Whatever magic principles used to create it or make use of it, they relied on something antithetical to concepts that had been internalized by him. It didn''t take him long to understand what that was either.


    His ''summoning'' made a type of thought form that grew into its own. This thing relied on a principle that brought a specific formed spiritual entity from somewhere else and bound it to service. It was an unwilling servant that would likely rebel or revenge at the slightest opportunity. Even if he could easily switch out concepts, there''s no way he''d trade his understanding for something that sketchy.


    The reason why he could figure that out so easy was because the ring was holding one. Deep inside the extra-dimensional space of the stone was a somewhat demonic looking man with fire for hair and a surly disposition didn''t even cover the expression it wore. By process of elimination, Orison figured it was either a powerful abyssal denizen or an actual Jinn. He wasn''t even that sure if the difference mattered. After all, both had the ability to shape supernatural forces in strange and wondrous/ terrifying ways. It was more a matter of HOW they would screw over the person trying to use them.


    Unwilling to lose control over the dubious ring, Orison reached a tendril of will into his space and tried to communicate with the entity inside. "Hey, how goes?"


    It must have worked because the ''fiery'' tempered man went ballistic for a good few minutes before it calmed down enough to growl out, "What do you want? I''m not a damn wish granter. I''m an ifrit for f*** sake!"


    Orison kept an even temperament. "Look, before I figure out a way to let you go safely I''ve got a question for you. Do you know-"


    The young mage described the fire haired woman he had accidentally freed from the desert tower. Suspicious, the somewhat demonic looking man asked why he was interested. Orison explained how he let the lady go and vaguely how he had done it. Despite coincidence and circumstance, the similarly fire haired guy had no idea but guessed that the ring he was trapped in might have had something to do with it.


    "So how does this thing usually work? I kinda need to know that before I can cheat it. Before you get all suspicious again, I can oath that I don''t have any motive other than freeing you in a way that doesn''t endanger anyone else... I''m not going to judge you based off of reputation but you can''t blame me for taking reasonable precautions either," Orison said.


    The ifrit weighed the young mage''s words carefully and said, "It''s easier for Jinn. Just make your wish and then they go back... We usually have to play bodyguards and builders, real grunt work."


    Orison sighed. "What''s the payoff? The ring needs something and I doubt you walk away completely empty handed. That''s not how the rules work. Powerful magic has big costs."


    The Ifrit dithered around the issue for awhile before Orison could get the full story. Whether it was a wish or a period of servitude, the ring required fueling from the wearer and the Jinn or Ifrit had claim to the soul or part of it, among other things, depending on the guile of the entity and the foolishness of the controller. In the end, it was a pact of mutual distrust and exploitation.


    To satisfy the preexisting conditions enforced by the ring, Orison offered an ''at will'' employment contract with advance pay of a condensed eternium mote and a drop of vitality water. Dense greed burned behind the ifrit''s eyes but the very moment it made a move on Orison, the contract would force it back ''home''. The young mage didn''t think for a second that the flame headed man held a lick of gratitude but Orison wanted it out of the ring for other reasons.


    Divested of a power source and isolated in his space, Orison made quick work of pressing the conduit into his service. Once his, the seventy-two sesame seed ruby chips that acted like small storage chests were quickly emptied. That wasn''t really saying much. Most of them were already pretty empty to begin with.


    The OCD magi who had created the ring had no real desire for anything but achieving greater heights of power at any cost. Despite the insinuation of insanity, the man was an erudite scholar and Orison found himself with a small personal library''s worth of books... that he couldn''t read. That would change.


    It would take time for the hazy consciousness to teach what it knew but it possessed all the theoretical knowledge that was necessary to create the ring. That would in turn lead to a cipher. The cipher would lead to being able to read the books and Orison was heartily glad that he could leave his sub-mind to do it.


    Of the remaining bounty, over 90% was related to enchanting. The vast bulk of that had long since spoiled or returned to dust due to being originally biological in nature. The surviving handful was good stuff, though, at least what could be identified. There was even a portable alchemy set that hadn''t seen much use. It wasn''t in a style that Orison readily identified with but common sense and a moderate amount of accumulated knowledge could fill in the gaps.


    It would have been nice if he could trust the handy, storage friendly ring to stay with him since it would save a lot of trouble with avoiding excess intake of inert essence but there was no doubt the ring would run first chance it got. The thing was terrified of him and had every reason to be. Orison would feel bad about it but the ring was no good thing and even the consciousness within, though fearfully obedient, was no good thing either.


    With internal issues handled, Orison prepared to tackle his to-do list for the day. When he swung his attention to the real world, he immediately noticed that the ifrit was still in the apartment. Not only that, but it was raiding Jimmy''s fridge and cupboards, one hand alternating between a second can of beer and an almost empty bag of pretzels.


    In a quiet but frenzied voice, Orison said, "What the f*** are you still doing here!?"

 118 Crawling Chaos 16

    The demonic man''s features had dimmed and shifted to appear more human. He was still an intimidating specimen and the nice suit did little to soften that. "There''s a lot of reasons I don''t WANT to leave but there are two reasons I CAN''T leave. Not yet."


    Crossing his arms, Orison said darkly, "I definitely want to hear the can''t list."


    Still fiddling with his appearance to strike a better balance between his natural ''glory'' and his current environment, the ifrit said, "Like the sea, creation''s dark tide has an ebb and swell. Such a thing is measured in years, not hours. You can step into a dying reality any time you like but the only safe times to leave are during the height of the swell or the lowest point of the ebb. There is a moment of stillness within both where pressure and current are at their gentlest.


    "The second reason is a tad more complicated. The last stand is about to take place soon. The fate of this world hasn''t been completely decided yet. It''s not so much whether it will continue to live or finish dying. It''s more like who gets what."


    Orison looked dully at the ifrit and said, "Just enough truth to not be complete bullsh*t. The big guys are so worried about each other that the little ones are left to wreak havoc. Out of the ones who slip the guard, some of them can threaten you even if you ran from them but you could slip line between without too much issue, I bet... Now what you said DOES apply to me. Thanks for the info."


    The ifrit grimaced and then smiled widely. "I''m glad my service pleases, MASTER."


    It was Orison''s turn to smile. "Improper address of an employer constitutes harassment. That''s terms for dismissal without benefits."


    The ifrit''s eyes became wide and said, "Where in our contract is that mentioned!?"


    Orison said, "By contract, I am defined as employer and you are my employee. Intentional defamation of character was definitely mentioned in the contract and calling me ''master'' defames my character when the law of the land has made illegal the ownership of slaves."


    The ifrit looked a little lost as he communed with reality around him. "Alright, what do you want to not dismiss me?"


    Orison said, "I''m assuming you now probably know more about the law than I do since you can just zip up language, appropriate dress and the like... I don''t want to play lawyer games with you. I just want to know why you willingly stay in my service when you''re free to go?"


    The ifrit sighed. "Fire clings to the bosom of its wood... Outward travel right now would be...expensive. With the state of the world, there''s not a lot to be gained being a free agent. On top of that, sticking by you might earn me some more resources.


    "There''s opportunity to be had in a dying world as well. Returning home empty handed after all this time is a bleak proposition. Surviving until now wasn''t without cost to me."


    Orison rolled around the idea of keeping the ifrit around and what it would take to make that safe. Then inspiration struck.


    The young mage said, "I won''t dismiss you if we change the nature of our arrangement to older and simpler rules. By the old ways, oath to be my vassal. All due sincerity and tithe will be upheld to the utmost spirit. Address may remain informal."


    The ifrit spoke the oath so quickly that it took Orison''s sub-mind to register it. With a predatory gleam, he stalked up to the young mage.


    While the ifrit wrestled with the wording of challenge necessary to ''depose'' his lord and claim his holdings, Orison called his ''son-in-law'' and daughter to bear witness.


    With a deep Baritone chuckle, a projection of Herne appeared with Flora. Both of them were doing quite well for themselves, particularly Herne. Orison didn''t know what all the hunter had taken from him but it incurred a certain amount of familial duty since it was claimed under dowry.


    Catching the drift, Herne said, "Welcome to my father-in-law''s service... Lord Father, I have yet to add the heart of an ifrit to my collection. I would greatly appreciate news of his fall from grace, should there be one."


    Flora was going to congratulate the fiery man before Herne interjected himself between the two. Realizing that all wasn''t as it seemed, Flora congratulated her ''father'' and stepped to the side. The young mage wasn''t thrilled about the courtly manners it seemed Herne expected of her but Orison wasn''t going to butt into her affairs, merely sent her a silent nudge of support and welcome should she need a break, temporary or otherwise, from attending her lord husband. Herne was no less keen on subtext but didn''t pay it much mind.


    With their projections fading away, Orison looked back at the ifrit. "I''m sorry. You were about to say?"


    Plastering on a weak smile, the the ifrit said. "I was about to warn you not to give me a stupid name to use while I''m in your service... How did you get an aspect of the hunter archetype as a son-in-law?"


    Orison pondered and then said, "Well, Ignatius Burns, I defeated him in single combat. I dragged his remains from the reality he was trapped in and accepted his service. Then I built him back up and he seduced away my spiritual, uh, daughter. Believe me, the dowry was killer! I think I might aim for marrying off a son next time."


    Ignatius said, "That''s a name that could grow on me... Really now. Babies having babies, what''s the supernatural world coming to?"


    Orison shrugged. "I was a human first. Add it all together and I''m pretty advanced... I joke... Flora''s a bit of a fluke. She''s an aspect, herself."


    Ignatius shook his head like he was trying to clear out water from his ear. "What I don''t understand is why you''d go from a better deal to a worse one. There are countless little ways to get around fealty. At least with the employer thing you had going on, I was the one playing catch up."


    Orison said. "Because it would take you all of a few hours to a few days and you''d have me screwed over. Now, I can can dismiss you without any rules. Now, as long as I give you a reason to WANT to be my vassal, you can be useful. Most of all, I needed an emergency reserve tank that''s compatible with issues I might have in a minute. Tell me, can you handle raw abyss exposure? Like, can you handle unfiltered abyss tainted essence and can you resist automatic suppression by an abyssal plane?"


    Ignatius smirked, "Abyss taint? You mean abyss spice, right?... Naturally, abyssal will wouldn''t suppress me but no planar lord would feel safe with one of my kind roaming around. We have... a reputation."


    Orison nodded. "I hope you weren''t lying, for your sake. Get ready to catch."


    The young mage called tithe. Nothing happened. Calling again, he reached out and caught the hollow connection. Pulling closer, he could see that the will still existed in a sickly, faint form. Right before he was about to just give up and chalk it as a loss, the controlling orb for the plane slurped up its remaining planar material and space before shooting through Orison''s line.


    Although it wasn''t completely clear, it seemed that when Amoril ascended, it had shaken off such places like so many fleas before going through the greater boundary. Being cast away so violently, it was set adrift with connections to nothing, abandoned by all but the few remaining ''petitioners'' Roz had chosen to leave behind for one reason or another. Refusing to play host to malevolent forces, no matter how weak, Orison shunted the abyssal will to Ignatius in its entirety.


    As Ignatius looked at Orison in confused wonder, the young mage suppressed his disappointment. "There you go, a build your own abyss box set. Go bananas."


    Throwing the young mage for a loop, Ignatius completely misunderstood Orison''s intent, mostly because he had overestimated Orison''s understanding of just about everything related to greater reality and planar knowledge. "I will work hard to carve out a barony so your generosity isn''t wasted on me. I know what you meant by tithing and all that... I know I''ve shown my a** but I didn''t think you were... Sh*t man. If I''d known this was how things were going to play out I''d have popped out of that rock with tongue swinging to polish those boots... Well, not really but you catch my drift."


    The ifrit''s 180 turn in temperament made Orison more than aware he may have made a huge mistake but didn''t know enough to even guess what kind. Whatever the case, at least for the time being, he''d accomplished the goal of earning some loyalty from Ignatius. Before he had a chance to turn from the unexpected ordeal that the ruby ring had thrown into his life, Ignatius dropped a fiery seed from the center of his being into the abyssal orb and tossed it through the building and into the ground.


    Orison looked down at the solid, unbroken floor and back up at the ifrit. Ignatius looked at Orison and tilted his head slightly to the side. Not wanting to look ignorant, Orison just took it that barony building wasn''t as hands on as he thought or that it took time for an abyss to reestablish itself. The young mage sighed internally and adjusted to the reality that Ignatius was going to hang from his a** like hemorrhoids for the time being. He hoped that the ifrit''s presence wouldn''t end up as painful when left untreated.


    Going into Jimmy''s room to check on the guy, Orison saw that the young man''s ''familiar'' was completely formed. It was also fairly worn out trying to burn off the excess vital water and eternium energy that it couldn''t hold and that Jimmy hadn''t been able to process much of before it became something that could threaten his life in all kinds of minor ways. To assist, Orison cast a heal on the young man focused primarily on his still rather weak comprehension of cure disease due to runaway bacteria and fungus trying to take an invisible hold on the sleeping man.


    Making a note to add some supernatural antioxidants to Jimmy''s promised ''medicine'', Orison swore he''d never push raw vital water or eternium at another mundane again, even through a ''familiar''. It was too dangerous and ran the risk of causing serious complications much later in life if left unchecked. Without a hard working outlet, Jimmy would have woke up covered in bacterial and fungal infections while riddled with cancer. Instead, he was going to wake up to his entire pile of broken appliances fixed.


    The young mage examined the familiar. Directed to represent all that Jimmy liked about himself as a primer, the familiar should have taken a creative and symbolic form like a dog for people who were loyal and dependable or at least that''s what Orison expected. Behind all the bluster and show, the guy had such low self esteem that the only thing his inner self took pride in was fixing things. Instead of a flashy ''spirit animal'', his familiar turned out to be a six inch tall mechanic.


    The familiar had so little to work with that it built the rest of it''s representation off of the things Jimmy most wished to change. It would be comical if it wasn''t sad. The half foot mechanic hefted around a obscenely symbolic monkey wrench that was over half as tall as itself and nearly half as wide, slung over a bare shoulder from its set of overhauls being half stripped down. Despite that, there wasn''t anything cocky or arrogant about the little familiar. If anything it was easy going and exuded a palpable kindness.


    The Jimmy that Orison remembered from before falling into the spatial crack was a little backwards and shy. It was reassuring to Orison that the man still valued things like kindness and innately preferred to seek peaceful solutions rather than go straight for the angst. One thing was certain, Jimmy was not cut out for the supernatural side of things. The world Orison lived in would finish ruining the best parts of the young man that his brother''s betrayal had seriously damaged but not destroyed.


    Determined to minimize the danger he himself represented to the young man''s potential peace and happiness, Orison wanted to get out of his life as soon as possible. He quickly whipped up a few things for the young man and laid out half of his remaining cash. With day breaking outside, Orison woke Jimmy up, ran him through the medicine''s usage and told him where the money was stashed.


    Rubbing his eyes, Jimmy said, "I thought you said it would take a couple of days."


    The mage said, "I managed to get a hold of my associate, Mr. Burns, earlier this morning. He''s in the living room waiting on me."


    Becoming a lot more awake a great deal more quickly, the young man asked, "You''re leaving? I thought we''d at least be able to swing by a few old haunts, maybe go see Jacob."


    As nicely as he could, Orison said, "People like me trail problems like comets. Sure, our lives are exciting and eventful but they''re also terrifying, filled with pain and madness. Please believe me when I say that leaving as quickly as possible is because I''m looking out for your best interests. Once I know my situation and I think it''s safe to do so, I might swing through again... Until then, I''d appreciate it if you could keep my resurrection from the dead a secret.


    "Not to be too nosy about things but after looking your familiar over, I''d say your real passion isn''t music. He''s an expression of the best parts of you, as you see it. Take from that what you will."


    While Jimmy examined his familiar who was looking back at him with a friendly smile, Orison added. "Day four''s medicine might not give you a, er, monkey wrench but you should be a bit more... confident the next day. If anything happens to day three''s, leave a message with Neil. It''s not just about giving you a little bit longer of a life, it''s to keep it from being possibly very short and painful at the end."


    Red faced at the beginning of Orison''s add on speech, Jimmy paled noticeably from the last reveal. "Is there something wrong with me?"


    Orison shook his head. "No, but there could be a couple of years down the road. Just... make sure to get a hold of Neil if something happens to it. Also, don''t give them to someone else or take them in any other way than I''ve directed you to. You''ve been warned."


    Seeing that Orison was getting ready to leave right then and there, Jimmy jumped out of bed. "Wait. I may have shredded your duds in a wreck but I still got your steel."


    The young man riffled through a drawer and brought out a belt sheath that had the two daggers still in it.


    Orison said, "Just out of morbid curiosity, when you had the accident, did it feel like something invisible slammed into you?"


    The guy looked at Orison a little shocked and said. "How''d you know that?"


    "Where were you driving at the time? You know what, it doesn''t matter. Let me see the necklace for a second," the young mage said.


    Jimmy reached under his shirt and pulled out the bronze medallion. Once it was in Orison''s hand, the young mage erased the deflection portion of the enchantment off and tossed it back.


    Orison finished extending his arm out to Jimmy and shook hands with his puzzled rescuer. "Thanks for yanking me out of there. Keep the necklace. It might stop an angry witch from cursing you bald early or something... Oh, I know I told you most people won''t be able to see your familiar but cats and little kids might. I don''t really know what that''s about but keep it in mind."


    The young man was obviously reluctant to let Orison leave but other than drawing out their parting to a painful degree, he didn''t do or say anything overly obnoxious, so the young mage let it slide.


    Ignatius commented, "I prefer the mortals that p*ss themselves and run away in fear over the ones that cling to your leg."


    Orison wanted to call him a liar and a hypocrite but settled for pointing it out nicely instead. "The fearful ones might make you feel powerful but they make the loneliness underneath a little more bleak. The clingy ones are annoying but they make you feel special."


    Ignatius gave off a snort of impressively heated air. "Let''s see if you feel the same when an army of enemies scatters at your mere presence, saving lives and effort. When thousands of the vain and greedy claw at your feet for more power, privilege and more wealth when they already possess more than most, you''ll understand."


    Orison quipped back a little melancholy, "Let''s see if you feel the same way when the last small group of allies you have, abandon you or a person you love has a hard time letting you go, knowing that you may not see each other again."


    The human disguised ifrit stared at Orison with an unreadable face. "We speak of a truth that lies on the side of the coin, rather than its faces, it seems. I know of what you speak but it has been millennia since it had meaning to me."


    The young mage stopped walking, partly because he saw a ''for sale'' sign in a decent looking car''s windshield. "How do you deal with the weight of time? I feel I''m more of the ''letting the past go to face the future'' type. You know, intentionally forgetting things and repeating mistakes but still keeping the emotions alive."


    Ignatius became even more inscrutable. No emotion on his face or in his voice, there was just the sense of ancientness. "The fire burns, the winds and sand scatter what remains. From time to time, the dunes shift and reveal something thought lost forever. Sometimes passion reignites briefly, giving rise to more that will fall to ruin. The only constant is the core, the center and innermost nature. I am blessed by creation to be a creature of the flames.


    "You have been generous so I too shall be. Flame''s passion, water''s adaptability, wind''s curiosity, earth''s acceptance... These are the four corners, the wisdom passed from the elementals to the jinn and their kin. It is a key but not only to power, to endure and weather time."

 119 Crawling Chaos 17

    While the Ifrit''s words didn''t seem to mean much on the surface, he posed the concepts to the elementals within him. The earth elemental was the first to respond by sinking into the center of Orison''s plane. The fire elemental almost joined the earth elemental but then changed its mind and sunk itself into the eternium formation ball. The water and air elementals disbursed themselves but the young mage could tell they were still there. Internally shrugging, Orison returned his focus to the world around him.


    Ignatius stopped staring at the young mage and said, "Good to know I didn''t cast pearls before swine."


    Orison rolled his eyes and went to talk to a man about a car. It was only a couple of years old but it had a few dings and a cracked engine block with a seriously cut up interior. It was bought cheap, ran up about a half mile away and after a few mends, it was as good as new. There was a fair amount of irony that a few accessories and touch ups at a local gas station with a garage ended up costing more than the car did.


    While they drove out of town south towards New Yorkshire, an occasional giddy chuckle would escape from Ignatius.


    After enduring the sound that was slowly becoming a little creepy for about five minutes, Orison finally said, "Is a loose seat spring tickling your balls over there or what!?"


    Knocked out of whatever weird state he''d been in, Ignatius said. "So much unclaimed territory, its going to be huge!"


    Orison stopped the car. "Are you laying claim to this land? Are you crazy!? There''s no way to defend it! It''s sandwiched in between a crap ton of secret societies too."


    Ignatius snorted. "You think too much like a human. Look above and below you. How much of that do you think humans here even pay attention to. They don''t know how to properly claim what they defend. Well, I''m starting to see SOME signs of smarter humans to the south... This is for you too so do you think we can make a detour around them?"


    Orison said. "Sure... But I still need to know how you plan on defending anything you''re claiming right now."


    Ignatius shrugged. "I don''t really need to, though. Something moves in on it, I just pull back. Meantime, I''ve been collecting the rent until then, so to speak. Don''t worry, an abyssal will knows how to play it when there''s bigger fish around. All these other folks don''t even know. It''s a crime, a travesty. I''m going to love every second of it!... Don''t worry, we''ll split it down the middle and your grandfather or whoever you ''borrowed'' this from won''t ever have to know."


    Orison scowled. "Not even a day in and you''re going to start testing me and fishing for information?"


    Ignatius sobered up instantly. "Right, sorry. I''m not used to playing fair. I will, though. Just...forgive a few slips every now and then, alright. It doesn''t come natural."


    There were so many questions Orison wanted to ask the ifrit about the abyssal will and whatever it was Ignatius was actually doing but he didn''t want to break whatever advantageous misunderstanding the ifrit was under.


    Willing to take a little risk as a prompt, Orison said, "How long will you tie gains into growth before you start collecting some shareable profit? I don''t ask out of impatience. I ask because I want to know your time table."


    Ignatius said, "Well, the faster it spreads out now, the greater the chance of claiming things without contest. Others doing similar things elsewhere will be less likely to test already claimed area and we can''t afford to do much testing ourselves."


    Orison waited but no other information seemed to be forthcoming. "I''m certain that if a human kindergartner is capable of something, you are too, whether it''s simple math or basic emotional concepts. So forgive me if I get fed up with devil games and throw your a** under the buss without warning when you push me one too many times."


    Scowling, Ignatius retorted, "How am I supposed to tell you something before I know? Do you know how much unclaimed territory there is? Do you know how much the abyss will can claim before it needs to consume resources its acquired so it can claim more?"


    Orison said, "Only an idiot fills their whole mouth before they start chewing. Are you TRYING to choke to death or are you really going to see how far you can stretch before something takes a bite out of you. Either greed is making you think stupid or you''re assuming I am."


    Ignatius sat quietly but only scowled more fiercely.


    Orison said. "Fine. I guess I''ll play my lordly part then. One week of rampant growth. After that, fifty percent essence obtained will be cycled into continued growth until that''s over. The rest will follow lord and vassal rules. Clean up the essence before you deliver it and I''ll let you keep another vassal share. Same goes for everything else. Play nice and I pay you for the work of two. That''s more than fair."


    The ifrit grunted acknowledgment but Orison could tell that something was eating at the guy and he could feel it was something important, something that would cost him the ifrit''s cooperation at any moment. Working with supernaturals that were inherently more powerful than himself was a tightrope walk that he swore to himself he would avoid when possible in the future. He considered it more trouble than it was worth.


    Sighing, Orison said, "What''s eating at you right now? Better to spit it out so we can hash it out."


    Ignatius said, "It''s no surprise to me. I should have figured it out sooner. What''s an ifrit good for, if not the grunt work, no matter what the project is. Since you know I''m not going to serve for long, when will another servant get to saunter in and kick me out? How much work will I invest into plane building and whatnot, just to find out I''m building someone else''s house?"


    Orison grew silent and pensive himself. It was undeniable. There was no way that the ifrit was going to serve him for long. The whole arrangement was temporary from the start. Ignatius WOULD be doing all the work only to get a tax cut of essence. That was a whole lot of pie being shoved to someone else the moment Ignatius left his service and had to forfeit any LAND or titles a lord bestowed. What the abyssal will made was land under any definition.


    The young mage suddenly wanted to laugh his head off. If Ignatius took off with the damn thing, Orison wouldn''t have a way to stop it but Ignatius didn''t know that. Because of fluke coincidence, the ifrit was under the impression that Orison had some crazy powerful backer just because he casually threw an abyssal will orb at the guy with complete ignorant indifference. Orison was still ignorant about the worth of a planar will but an abyssal one might as well be junk for all that the young mage wanted to personally deal with it. Any entity that would value it weren''t the kind of entities Orison wanted to have anything to do with either.


    Shaking his head, Orison said, "Rent to own, eighty-one years. That''s assuming you serve me for nine in good faith."


    For a few seconds, Ignatius shuddered so hard that Orison almost thought the ifrit was having a seizure. As if he was afraid that Orison would change his mind, the ifrit re-swore fealty with a great deal more sincerity and added a few more binding oaths to give Orison some peace of mind. All of it was contingent on Orison swearing the rent to own agreement, which he did at rates that were very favorable towards himself, all suggested by Ignatius. It all left Orison feeling that when the day came he understood the true value of a planar will, he''d kick himself bloody for what happened between him and Ignatius.


    Orison internally shrugged. There were a lot more important things to think about and Ignatius was a great deal more congenial than he even was when Orison had tossed the orb to him in the first place. He chalked it up to the ''loyal and true friend and companion'' addition to the oath of fealty, assuming that even if Ignatius didn''t feel it, the guy would fake it til he made it.


    Trying to take advantage before the new wore off, Orison said. "Before I got stuck in a crack for a few years, I was under the impression that this world would turn into a supremely terrifying place in just a few months but it doesn''t seem to have changed overly much. Got any pearls of wisdom in that direction?"


    The ifrit looked at him funny. "It IS terrifying. Where we''re at now seems like the eye of a huge hurricane of terrifying. It''s just not moving much. How long ago did you get here?... In this world''s years."


    Orison said, "A little over nine. Why?"


    Ignatius said, "The time of this world is probably moving nearly fifty or sixty times faster than when you got here. In another ten or so years, it''ll be moving about as fast as a low dimensional world''s time can go. That''s the world trying to give the lives on it a way to either beat the threats or escape. It''s burning out the last of its power to do it."


    The young mage asked. "How long does that give them?"


    "I don''t really know. Somewhere between a couple hundred to a couple thousand sounds like a safe guess. Life is going to start getting really hard around another few decades to a century from now, though. It''ll be the standard apocalypse stuff," The ifrit said.


    Seeing that Orison looked withdrawn, Ignatius left him alone to his thoughts.


    An hour and a stop at a diner later, Ignatius said, "Lower dimensions share sh*t all the time. They also steal from each other, among other things. At the 13th hour, nearby realities looking for some easy gains will throw a lifeline or outright abduct a few useful people. Beings like you and me will snatch some up too. Hell, there''s probably a few old monsters out there that have a whole group of people they''ve taken a liking to and will pull a few biblical style rabbits out of their, uh, hats to save them."


    Orison snapped out of personal thought. "Oh, I''m just thinking about how to make the most of my time here. I get the whole ''circle of life'' thing."


    Dark lines ran down Ignatius'' face. Orison looked like an open book but from the perspective of the ifrit, that was probably the biggest illusion about the young mage. From looking like he cared too much to looking like he didn''t care at all, Orison whipped from generous to acting stingy before left turning into idiotically wasteful. Ignatius would have accepted a bargain ten times longer and still been pretty happy about it. He even admitted as much after the fact.


    The young mage replied, "First off, I don''t want to stick around here that long and I''m pretty sure that you''re going to want to hoover vac this place for as long as you can. What''s the point of dragging around a person whose mind is elsewhere?... As far as the RTO situation, I''d rather undershoot for honesty rather than overshoot for pettiness. Forget it. It''s a learning experience."


    Inside, he was screaming at the realization but Ignatius didn''t need to know.


    Ignatius laughed, "Well, when someone let''s you f*** them that hard, its customary to offer a complimentary reach around so there''s no hard feelings."


    "I just noticed your speaking style''s more like mine than the people around us. Why''s that?" Orison asked offhandedly, mostly to stop crude innuendo about their deal.


    The ifrit said, "I synced up with yours first. It takes a little time to adjust to a second when they''re introduced in rapid fire succession like that."


    The rest of the trip to New Yorkshire was friendly and stress free aside from a couple of requested detours to avoid running directly over someone or something''s territory so Ignatius could use the road trip to increase the initial spread zone. When orison asked if the abyssal plane looked like a string, Ignatius was quick to point out limited view and said it more resembled a hard to detect wall that ran high into the air and low into the ground. That wall would seep an invisible stain around its vicinity, easily pushed out of the way and naturally flowing around any resistance.


    The last discussion of the subject before it became a silent background activity was Ignatius explaining, "The rudest, most awesome thing about it is, only abyssal denizens, devils or celestial messengers would be sensitive to it and they would have actually abandoned all but spiritually significant places. Neither you, I or the planar will itself give two sh*ts about faith essence. Left to its own devices it''ll steer clear of churches and the like.


    "I mean, back when I was younger I indulged in a little adoration but it''s addictive and it can make you do some pretty stupid stuff. I wouldn''t recommend it. Assuming a mantle of godhood to make it worth while''s kind of a dead end gig in my opinion."


    Orison said thoughtfully, "So no godhood for you?"


    Ignatius shook his head emphatically. "You can shoot to tier five pretty quick if you have the charm or charisma for it but once you start down that road, you get locked in. Everything after tier five is one nearly impossible to assail summit after another and you can lose what you''ve accumulated over night with no warning. F*** that!"


    A bit sneakily, Orison asked, "What''s your take on tier four and five? I want to see how it lines up with what I''ve been told."


    The ifrit looked at Orison oddly and then, as if coming to yet another weird conclusion, said, "Look, I don''t want to piss off whoever stands behind you, so I''ll answer this but don''t go digging into more of that kind of stuff with me. A lot of the legacies families follow require certain understandings and if I muddle that up too much, they''ll stomp a mud hole in my mud hole.


    "Tier four is commonly referred to as ''demigod''. For as wide ranged as faith power is, its gaps between four specific levels make it a good measurement method despite how others of the same tier kind of look down on them... If you''re asking me that kind of basic question, I''m assuming it''s to know about how things measure up in the mid-dimensional levels?"


    Orison nodded and the ifrit continued, "Like I said, fourth tier is demigod. Down here, they''d pretty much walk around unchallenged. In the mid dimensions, it''s the starting line to compete for real power. You look like you''ve got a ways to go before you''re there yet. If whoever is behind you didn''t tell you not to go up before you hit four, do it anyway. It''s not a lot but you get a bit more room to grow if you hit four in the lower and for those who don''t come from old power, it''s tough as hell to get over the hump of three to get to four in the mid dimensions.


    "How do you know when you''ve reached four? You can bend the rules of reality. Down here you can break them some... Yeah, yeah. I can see the look on your face but you don''t actually have that kind of powder in your cannon yet, son. I''m not that far in tier four. Your son-in-law is a solid four. Comprehension works with and around the rules, bending them is like slightly pushing the rules out of the way and breaking is like ignoring them for a little while before they call their big brother to whip your a**.


    "A good rule to measure four against is when common weapons no longer pose any threat to you. Explosives are considered an exception. So are weapons made out of material your species type is weak against. For you that would be cold iron, I guess. You''re kind of a mutt.


    "I''m not going to go too much into tier five. Down here, they ARE gods no matter what their path is. In the mid dimensions, tier five is equivalent to land gods. Big indicator you ran into one? They can make a small area around them theirs. It''s called a domain. When their domain is active, you can''t hurt them without special weapons, some serious supernatural juice or a tactical nuke, if you''re in to blowing things up.


    "What the hell... Tier six isn''t allowed down here. Greater reality will spank them. They don''t tend to hang around mid dimensions either unless they''ve given up or they''re real gods with a job to do. I don''t know jack about tier seven or eight and from the person who explained things to me, only eights know jack about nines."


    Orison said, "The territory up north?"


    The ifrit said. "If you''re talking about the big jigsaw puzzle line, that''s not a territory, that''s a reality stress fracture from a tier five setting up shop much further north. I could barely feel it from where we were but it''s an outsider with a big O. It''s even got a few mad god subordinates. Those things kind of swing between tier four and five depending on where they are and how much they''ve twisted their surroundings to fit them...


    "A word of warning, those things don''t follow the rules because they were born outside of them. Whether we''re talking about mad gods or the thing they would call boss if they were capable of coherent communication for more than a second or two, outsiders are NOT understandable. Trying to understand them is to risk becoming one. Treating with them is to risk becoming one. Being forced against your will to communicate with one for more than just a little while, is to go batsh*t crazy and risk becoming one... end of class."


    Orison became a little confused. "I thought that it was almost impossible to get to tier four without chrism. Chrism comes from them, right?"


    Ignatius looked hard at Orison. "A group of strong tier fours will hunt mad gods sometimes. Even a group of tier fives would only fight what''s up their in the north if they didn''t have a choice. You''re son-in-law would have a decent shot at a mad god, I guess. Do you think he''d be willing to come off some chrism? Bah, he''s a hunter aspect. Forget I even asked. He''ll probably feed most of it to his dogs."

 120 Crawling Chaos 18

    As Orison continued to subtly steer conversation so that the ifrit would reveal more information about greater reality, he became stunned at the sheer overwhelming arrogance Ignatius possessed. It actually managed to go full circles back to understated confidence. It was like the ifrit''s delusions of grandeur had developed self defense mechanisms to keep from ever possibly being broken, wrapped in pockets of false humility and backhanded admiration towards anything undeniably more powerful than himself.


    Unable to help himself, Orison said, "It must be difficult to live in an existence incapable of recognizing just how important you are to it."


    "You say that sarcastically but one day you might know the feeling yourself, if you live long enough," Ignatius delivered with a straight face.


    After a few stops and getting some information from locals to find his destination, Orison was close to Neil''s ''new'' office of eight years. There was an equal sense of anticipation and dread at the upcoming meeting. The detective was his only real ''friend'' on this world and that friendship hadn''t been in very good shape when they parted ways.


    Stepping through the outer hall, a small bell with an irritating pitch let anyone within its hearing range know that someone had walked in. A gaunt, slightly hollow eyed woman approaching middle age shuffled towards them like an aged granny. Orison gazed at her with spirit sight to find that she was almost invisible. As if held together by sheer will, the woman''s life force had ebbed so low that if she didn''t have warmth and a slow pulse, he''d have thought he was looking at an animated corpse.


    Pointing to a tray at one side with a coffee/tea carafe and assortment of cheap cookies, she said. "You and friend take. Eat a nibble at least, then I hear. If not, then leave."


    Close to death or not, there was a power in her voice and a thrum of supernatural command about her that coerced a modicum of obedience.


    Ignatius grabbed a cookie. "You''re wanting to exchange host protection for guest rights?"


    The woman slowly shrugged. "Protection, yes. I give no f*** about you and your tricky fairy friend."


    Orison grimaced at her but grabbed a cookie. "The feeling''s mutual, ingrate. How have the last nine years treated you since I dragged your a** out from the jaws of hell?"


    Her eyes shot up but didn''t say another word, waiting for them to eat the cookie. Orison licked it and threw it in the trash. Seeing how the young mage handled it, Ignatius did the same.


    Taking a slow, steadying breath, she led them into a cheap but cozy waiting room before helping herself to a somewhat threadbare chair. "I''ve been, how to say, full of p*ss and vinegar but grateful for every heartbeat. When Neil returns, I give apology once he says you are the one you claim."


    Orison asked, "When will that be?"


    Orison''s face fell. "Is he still alive?"


    The woman pulled out a pack of weathered, hand painted cards. Once she cut them, she flipped a few out and read them. In spirit sight, Orison could barely sense small tendrils of some kind of force between faith and old magic.


    She looked tired but said, "In a way, he''ll be alive for years but the window to save him gets smaller. Two or three weeks, he might as well be dead."


    Orison saw her eyes dance over the cards and she didn''t like what she saw. Leaning on the empathy that the stag pin granted, Orison noted that she felt tired and sad. There was something she needed to do but didn''t feel up to it. Suddenly a wall slammed down between them and he couldn''t feel anything from her.


    Sneering at Orison in a parody of normal amusement, she said. "There''s not much worth seeing but if you want peepshow, you pay first."


    Orison gave a nasty sneer back of his own and said, "How much for the rest that the cards told you? You know, the parts you don''t feel like sharing?"


    Looking him over in a suggestive way, the woman said, "You can give kiss of life? Three months given with glad heart. If not, I get jar and you bleed three months for me."


    The young mage noticed a faint ghoulishness about her and knew where it came from after the last sentence. If it weren''t for the faint sense of reluctance and bitter look on her face, Orison wouldn''t have had anything to do with her. She was resorting to some black magic out of desperation not desire. It wasn''t just because she wanted to live longer either. She had a look of determination that spoke of things needing to be done.


    Orison said, "If it''s vitality that you need, I can provide better options than dark methods that take more than they give. I''ll go above and beyond your price by quite a bit if you promise to never resort to using those ways again. You''re very close to the tipping point as it is."


    Raising an eyebrow, the woman said, "Tell me something I don''t know. No really, I could use some good news."


    The young mage said, "Give me a closed magic circle. I don''t have all the materials to create a proper medicine with the vitality giving ingredient I have."


    Nearly half an hour later, Ignatius watched with mild interest as Orison made medicine and Zora made a special lunch with the leftover parts and dregs.


    "Why a magic circle in the kitchen? This is a permanent inlay. Surely you don''t do your ritual work here too?" Orison said, slightly bewildered.


    Zora smirked, "You think I show you ritual room!?... Every living herb and animal has touch of life preserving quality. That is lost when cooking normally. You should ask why all who know of such things and can capture it, DON''T have magic circle in kitchen!"


    Unable to help himself, Orison asked Zora where she came from and after a snarky response about how babies were made, she offhandedly said she grew up Romani. The look of defiance and bitterness spoke of a story she was unwilling to share and Orison didn''t particularly care to ask.


    Orison said, "I never thought I''d get to meet a real life gypsy witch. That''s kind of cool."


    The look of absolute fury on Zora''s face as she spun around with a kitchen knife, had Orison prepared to defend himself until she said, "I am not a gypsy and I am not a witch!" She lowered the knife with a weary, defeated look. "I am nobody important. An outcast with some good teaching, that''s what I am. You don''t even know enough for me to stay angry. Witch means something different to me and that different is bad. Maybe is split hairs but let me cling to some pride."


    As they sat around the kitchen table to an overly sumptuous midday meal, Zora took the medicine Orison had made with the oldest of the immature ginseng. It seemed that over the nine years Orison was trapped, Flora had tended them well but the parent ginseng was far too precious and the first generation of seedlings from it were only about six years old with only about as much vital essence as the smallest whisker from the original. Even with the makeshift recipe, it would safely add seven or eight years before losing its potency for Zora. Orison was certain that she had methods, meal included, to get more mileage out of it but he had no real idea of how much.


    Ignatius was helping himself to a third helping while he said, "This is delicious. I haven''t had black bone chicken soup since the night of my second marriage."


    Orison raised his eyebrows. "You''re a married man?"


    A brief shadow passed over Ignatius'' face while he replied, "She was a mortal. Our grandchild''s grandchildren are all dust by now."


    Stepping on landmines left and right, Orison decided to spend the rest of the meal in silence, studying the ingredients of the meal. He noticed that quite a few were ''warm'' ingredients that would help to bank the coals of her life force but was slightly concerned about their affects on himself and a thousand year lonely ifrit. Wordlessly, he made some chrysanthemum tea for himself and offered it to Ignatius as well but the ifrit chose to steal an old beer from the kitchen''s fridge instead.


    Seeing a few knowing glances pass between the ifrit and Zora, Orison felt somewhat perplexed and a little left out. It wasn''t so much that Zora was even someone he''d spare a second glance at on the street but that didn''t make him feel any less irritated at being overlooked so blatantly. That feeling of irritation grew stronger at being put off til the next day with the excuse of needing to spend some time digesting the benefits of his medicine before she was ready to speak about the cards. It wasn''t that unreasonable of a request. It just exhausted any official reason for conversation between them. She made no bones about that meaning she didn''t really want to talk with him much at all despite having plenty to chat about with Ignatius. Reading between the lines, Orison realized that she wasn''t being intentionally snubbing to him.


    In her eyes, he was too young and too inexperienced to be a good conversation partner and she seemed to have some reservations about fey blooded individuals to begin with. It wasn''t that she didn''t recognize that he possessed some inner maturity and humanity. It still didn''t change his breadth of knowledge and worldly experience and she wasn''t in the mood for intellectual conversation at any rate. As for other kinds, apparently Ignatius was more ''interesting''.


    Throwing a little caution to the wind, Orison asked about decently safe places to spend some recreational time and left Zora and Ignatius to explore each other''s company, unwilling to play awkward third wheel. After burning some afternoon in the nearest park for another round of meditation and training, Orison turned to the lower end of the sprawling metropolis to a more artsy community where he could blend in a little easier. Until deep in the evening, Orison lost himself in a small sea of oblivious mundanes.


    Between the colorful music and string of freestyle poetry of a coffee shop that offered a great deal more recreational drinks and eats to people who looked ''cool'', the young mage flexed rusty social skills. It didn''t take him long to figure out that he could fade from people''s perception or become the undeniable center of someone''s attention even without glamour. It was hard to re-fade from someone''s attention but between his qualities as a climber and the boosted empathy the stag pin granted, he could manage long enough to slip away to another corner of a crowd.


    It was flattering to know that he had the power to move people off of sheer looks, social grace and the touch of additional ''realness'' he possessed but it was a little scary how easily attachment and even subtle affection could quickly form. When his sub-mind noticed a few more details he missed, he went from being a little scared of his ability to cold, subtle horror. When he bent and concentrated his attention on a person, his fey heritage would change his ''scent'' and the dragon part would guide his body language and spiritual aura in small ways. One to lure and the other to unobtrusively display superior or desirable qualities. A supernaturally gifted individual wouldn''t be overly affected by either but a mundane person was susceptible.


    While Orison digested these newly found parts of himself that would make him have to walk eggshells around mundanes to keep from irresponsibly ''playing'' with them, he spotted a couple who weren''t so mundane. They had noticed him awhile back but had respectfully waited, projecting a calm acceptance and approval of his restraint. Much like him, they looked young but exuded a maturity beyond their apparent age.


    As was custom, when they made their way to him, in a way that left him room to retreat if he wasn''t interested in meeting, they didn''t introduce themselves but jumped into a pleasantly shallow conversation instead. Once they got a feel for Orison, they tested the waters with a piece of personal information. The man and woman were much like Orison in that they had lineage which made it hard to mingle with mundanes without causing harm if they weren''t careful.


    They claimed to be part of a loose collective that peppered the country and kept other secret societies from making things too hard on independents. Their main goal was to preserve certain heritages that were on the verge of extinction. Since every magic and blood heritage had something unique to bring to the table, the major societies were amicable enough as long as the collective didn''t infringe on any important places. That, and as a entity itself, any single society that managed to evoke the outrage of this peaceful giant, found out that it had teeth when it needed them.


    Once the young mage had confirmed that he wasn''t being groomed and that there wasn''t any kind of cult vibe, he relaxed back into casual conversation again. Seeing that they were hitting it off well, the couple invited him back to their ''pad''. Safely away from mundanes, they let their tightly drawn in auras settle back to comfort. After that, the evening bled into late night fairly quickly with a few more supernaturally inclined flatmates filtering in from parts unknown.


    Within the swirl of easy going energy, Orison had a moment of clarity where things were going. He could choose to bow out gracefully or ''stay the night'' with the group of flatmates who were ''making themselves comfortable'' in a way Orison could relate to. He never considered himself a person that was okay with casual intimacy but casual exhibitionism had never been something that scared him. A touch of loneliness and disconnection had him a little more open to the idea of both.


    As the sun crested over the eastern horizon, Orison came to feeling a little lighter and ''unburdened'' but in need of fresh air, cleanliness and a comfortable distance from the tangle of a cuddle puddled he had came out of trance in. For a half second, Orison weighed the past night''s events on a scale of enjoyment vs. regret and found there wasn''t much weight on the regret side except some personal boundaries that had been temporarily compromised in the heat of the moment. There had been a great deal of enjoyment, however.


    As Orison politely offered and was taken up on some light healing with some intimate cleaning added in to insure future consequences didn''t arise, even the regret side was eased by friendliness and appreciation of his thoughtfulness. After all, some might have been secure enough in their emotional connection to be freer with their and their partner''s physical enjoyments but most wanted the involvement of another to be limited. A person who was mindful of that would always be more welcomed to return and even though Orison wasn''t very keen on the idea, he didn''t want to completely dismiss it either. The pain of realization that came from his newfound knowledge of his effect on mundanes and just how far he had become removed from the world of mankind was too fresh to cut off even as dubious a form of comfort as this had been.


    As Orison drove back to Neil''s office/ rental flats, he contemplated the benefits and negatives of relaxing a little of his preconceived notions and judgments on personal boundaries. There were some things that would never be up for consideration. Once he found a woman to pour his love and affection onto without reservation, the line of thought would no longer have any real meaning as he knew exactly what kind of relationship he wanted and what he wanted from it.


    Still, until that day came, there wasn''t any major reason why he should close off opportunities for relief and companionship just because it wasn''t something he was familiar with or raised to consider ''normal''. He was so far outside those borders as a ''climber'' that it made no sense to him only clinging to conventional thinking on something as ultimately harmless as physical enjoyment and comfort. He resolved to not be as adverse to unconventional affection as long as those involved were as respectful and ''accommodating'' as his first encounter with such a thing had been.


    In a cheerful mindset, Orison walked into the waiting room of the office and made himself comfortable. It was an interesting discovery that he could ''feed'' off of extreme emotions like ecstasy with the same effect that a hearty breakfast could provide but decided that he wouldn''t indulge in such an ethereal fair often. His fey heritage was already stronger than he could completely handle as it was.


    The young mage flared his aura as a way to announce his presence and waited while faking patience to the best of his abilities. Two minutes later, Ignatius appeared in a flash of desert wind, dressed in garishly colored silk pants. He also wasn''t trying very hard to look human either. Despite his neutral face, the ifrit carried a demeanor of frustration.


    Conspiratorially, Ignatius said, "Mortal women are so fickle. I find the challenge of it endearing and the constant possibility of it capable of angering me to death."


    Zora sauntered down the stairs looking like a person reborn, willowy and filled with exotic temptation, even merely restored to early forties. "Strong and virile man, yes. Pretty boy, maybe but probably not. Half demon and changeling?... Snowball''s chance in hell."


    The look of strong desire and mild rage that danced in Ignatius'' eyes spoke volumes as Orison quipped, "This pretty boy changeling pulled your candy a** from the edge of the grave... twice. I don''t give a sh*t if you think my tractor''s s*xy or not but show a little gratitude."


    She stared blankly at him for a moment before she peeled into a sharp but not unpleasant cackle. "You''re tractor? This, I like. I must remember that. As for grateful, I am that too... I am only blunt because it is better than sharp and mean. If I did not like you at all, I would not talk... It is that I respect your danger. You are that. Both of you. Women who fall for fairy tricks and devil tongues suffer. This I know."


    Orison smirked. "Well, since your legs look sturdy enough to keep you from ''falling'' for awhile, mind finishing that card reading from yesterday? We might be having a good ol'' time but I doubt that Neil is."

 121 Crawling Chaos 19

    Zora took out her cards and sat them on the table. "I tell you reading from yesterday. After that, I read for you... Neil is taken by lady of stone...stone eye or stone heart, maybe both. That is not clear... I must take you or you will not find. Beyond that is for me, a choice."


    She shuffled her deck and had Ignatius cut the cards while asking Orison for privacy. Whatever ended up being spoken between them left the ifrit looking irritatingly pleased with himself as the young mage was called back in. The Eastern European woman looked like she had eaten a bug. As soon as Ignatius had left the room in a swirl of desert wind, her bitter expression turned into a playfully mischievous one.


    Orison said, "I''m almost curious enough to ask a question I won''t get an answer to."


    Zora smiled mysteriously and said, "Some get what they want only to find that is gone before they can enjoy... Cut the cards... Three times you face climbing broken tower. Each time this fixed before it can hurt you. First by grandfather? No, like grandfather with green hands or heart. Not sure... Second time by two lovers with green face, green head? Unclear... Third time by green father, silver mother and blue key? Even more unclear.


    "Around you there are fairy gifts and devil lucks. No, dragon... This is dragon fortune but don''t forget. Your first gift came from loss and something beyond the stars. This is important because your power isn''t twofold it is three.


    "You believe yourself two but you are not. You are one. The older, kinder one gave everything to you and stays at your side, becoming something else, one who learns without end... No, that one is you as well but you are still only one...argh! Forget it. I will hurt myself trying to see more of that.


    "Three broken towers will become one that is not broken but you will lose much to gain. You will not have fairy gifts or dragon fortunes. Nor will you have a gift from beyond the stars but you will be something that is more than one alone. You will be something new but also old... A revival? You will be something that once was... The time when you will become this is not near and not promised. You can fail. You can die... There is no more."


    Getting up slowly, Zora stated that she was tired and needed more rest. Before laying down, she assured she''d be ready to lead Orison to go find Neil that evening. The young mage needed a little time to run all the garbled intuition through his sub-mind to make sense of it and figure it out anyway. After checking in with Ignatius to find that the ifrit had some planar business to take care of, Orison sat back down in the deserted office and meditated.


    "It''s kind of a surprise that the sub-mind''s core came from Al''s soul and not the original Orison but it doesn''t really matter. As far as I''m concerned, all that survived of both Orison and Al''s lives are in me. Greater reality may see me as just the original Orison with some extra memories but everything that essentially made Al who he was, I have."


    Orison''s sub-mind informed him that after all they knew about souls, he should be aware that it wasn''t that simple. The core of someone''s soul was their truest self. Memories and genetic disposition might make people who they are in one life but a core represented the whole journey. Orison was forced to recognize that he had been more truly the boy this whole time. Memory may have given him many advantages but he had struggled no less with the growing pains of maturity.


    The young mage was suddenly overwhelmed by guilt and sadness. In his bid for survival, he had became a parasite that had slowly overtaken its host. No sooner had he completed that thought, he realized that wasn''t true. Al had chosen what he had with spiritual purpose. He had insured their survival in many other ways and wasn''t regretful at all. Sure, he wasn''t a ''free'' soul and very little of what he once was remained but there was a simple enjoyment in what he had become and that was ''perfect'' for the person he had been.


    Looking back, the young mage realized that the very first time that he had spoken to the sub-mind, it had hinted at the truth when it showed a subtle surprise and interest that it appeared to look like the original Orison. Regardless of what one considered the most important aspect of maturity, Orison was truly a man grown now, in every way. Ruefully, he reflected that he wouldn''t mind getting that last couple of years back to have a more polished masculinity that men didn''t get until they were in their early twenties but he could live with that.


    As for the future that Zora spoke of, nothing about it was that much news to Orison. There was obviously a problem with his spiritual bloodlines and his original miasma granted gift of his space. One wrong move and his space''s capabilities could warp or end him. Anymore strengthening of dragon or fey heritage would see his remaining human heritage fade to make room for it. Either of his dragon or fey heritages growing stronger than the other by a certain margin and the balance between them would be broken, resulting in a tug of war that could end him. When wasn''t his future in danger of ending?


    Once finished contemplating Zora''s reading, he evaluated his decisions since he entered this world. After coming here, despite his bold declaration of proactiveness, he still had been going with the flow and taking the path of least resistance. He was still primarily reacting instead of acting. It gave him a lingering feeling of being lead around by the nose and he hated it.


    He didn''t want to wait for the next bad thing to happen and then react to it. He didn''t want to let some lingering tie to a half baked friendship lead him on another ill prepared adventure as he cluelessly stumbled around trying to survive and make the best out of it. There was some recklessness in rushing forward but if done with deliberation, momentum and first action would belong to the one who did.


    Standing up, Orison bound out to his car. It took an hour and a half but he found a place that was deserted with no signs of spiritual fluctuations whatsoever. It was an old quarry mill that had been reduced to a gravel storage pit. There was privacy but little else of note.


    With a mix of threats and promises, Orison bound the ring conduit to his service more tightly and then stored everything within his space into it, even his miniature plane. The only thing left inside was the motes and his crystal formation. As an added precaution, Orison asked the mustard seed bracelet to keep an eye out on the ring and do what it could to help in any way it could with promises of aid in return. The bracelet projected hazy confusion but sent a feeling of acceptance and willingness.


    Casting a large magic circle with dirt from his plane, a few motes of precious spirit blood from both heritages and a generous sprinkle of condensed crystal motes, the young mage bound it. As it sprang to life, the space of the circle felt no different to him than his own inner space. Aside from being a territory in its own right, it only served two purposes. The first was to keep everything outside, out. The second was to make all the separate parts of himself into a seamless whole truly, not just in theory.


    It was important to keep things simple since the work itself would be complex and filled with uncertainty. With one last overview of what he was trying to accomplish, Orison checked in with his sub-mind to insure that certain possibilities weren''t against the whatever original intents and personal will remained of Al inside of it. He didn''t get an answer so much as a brief intensification of curious anticipation.


    As with the circle, the will work was also simple. Orison leaned against the understanding that a world will could rewrite things to suit itself for a price before it moved to the mid dimensions. As above, so below. If a world will could do it then a person within the lower dimensions could do it too as long as they had enough power to draw on. Refusing to call out to a higher power he didn''t put any personal faith in, he reached for the Danann Key instead. Although he couldn''t reach it directly or call it to himself, they were still connected and he would draw on its power sympathetically. Instead of other divinities or forces of nature, he called out to those who he had once or still did share a spiritual or emotional connection to.


    Laying TSSRR suit and over robe with pin aside, Orison stood as the day he was born underneath a muted sun just shy of midday on a day that was just shy of longest day. With only his summons as innocent witnesses, the young mage released his hold on the magic within the circle. In that moment, he ceased to exist.


    ***


    With one last use of the Danann Key to lock her memories for seven years, Keita''s soul nestled deep into the new life growing inside the woman she had chosen to be her mother and severed ties with the device that was about to be sacrificed.


    ***


    Droya tucked her son into bed. It was rare for a child to be born favoring the father instead of the mother but it did happen from time to time. She didn''t mind. His life would be a lot easier and he''d have a much better chance of being able to keep the legacy Droya''s first son had left to him.


    Not knowing why she did it, she sent a well wishing to Orison along with a willingness to sacrifice some of the essence granted to her from his workings on her behalf. Surprisingly, it vanished. Nearly half of her gains over the years just disappeared but she wasn''t upset. Instead, she felt relieved. It was as if some entity had taken her up on her offer and would see it done.


    With two kisses to the moon in the night sky, Droya made her way to her husband''s bed. For some reason, she felt a sudden strong urge to give her son some siblings. Claudius was more than happy to oblige.


    ***


    Duran looked down lovingly at the woman hogging the bed sheets by his side for a moment before waking her up. "Wick says it''s time."


    The woman ran fingers through frizzy red curls and said, "So after I revive Gan and you send some kind of sacrifice through Wick to your dumb c*nt of an ex-boss, we don''t owe anybody and we can go right?... I f***ing hate the lower dimensions. It was bad enough waiting for you to be ready."


    Looking somewhat vulnerable, Duran replied, "Do you regret waiting for me?"


    The rough, almost gangster look faded from her face and she said tenderly, "Of course not. You and Wick mean all the worlds to me. I just miss my sister."


    ***


    Stag suddenly went stiff in the VIP room lounge chair. "Aaron, you''re on club babysitting duty. I don''t care if the sky is falling or the gates of Hell itself are opening on the dance floor. Make do until I come back. No interruptions...None!"


    Getting a slightly startled agreement from the club''s manager, Stag made his way down to his sub-basement room. Opening a hidden stairwell, he made his way even deeper until he was in his underground greenhouse. The repurposed portion of a long forgotten part of the city lost in an earthquake had been turned into a lush paradise with artificial sun lighting.


    Walking to the center and past a powerful ward, Stag quickly combed through the best items of his collection. Without hesitation, he offered them up to his great ancestor, Cernunnos, along with the hearts of his fallen enemies so far collected. Taking hold of the additional granted power of life and death, Stag hurled it through the connection between himself and Orison with a directive to aid him and murder that which threatened him.


    Sighing to himself, Stag muttered, "The past year or so has been fun but hurry up and get your a** here."


    ***


    Venito looked up at the heavy clouds gathering above him. Amoril hadn''t been able to erase him and every trial and tribulation it sent his way had been flattened, serving only to hone him and make him stronger. Even the Sigil Order had given up on trying to repress or recruit him. After all that, he found it amusing that it was his own growth in power that would cause his downfall.


    The gathering tribulation clouds should have been a fair challenge given to any cultivator waiting to raise from core forming to natal soul but it only spelled his doom in a world that wanted him dead and lacking in anything he could use to resist it. Sure, he''d had alchemy and there had been plenty of material for him to do so in the small world he possessed but there was no way for him to use formations or make talismans. He couldn''t even forge any tools.


    The only thing he had to face what was coming came down to his own body and all the courage he had. It was undoubtedly not going to be enough. The raise of reality had enriched every inhabitant of the world but had pushed Venito past the point of no return unless he wanted to waste his cultivation. What would wait for him beyond that was only a slow, painful death by the hands of one of his many enemies. Fortunately, all of his children were made ''anonymously'' and resided in the care of Droya or Portia. In spite of all his wildness, he only had three and loved each of them more than life itself but after all that he had done, the safest place for them was far away from himself.


    At slightly less than an hour left til he''d be electrocuted into powder, A rift opened and an ethereal green deer stepped out. Venito looked at it in confusion and it did the same. After looking around and then back at Venito, it shook its antlered head as if shedding water and stepped back through. Having nothing to lose, Venito jumped through the closing rift.


    Stepping out, Venito was awed by the sense of oppressive lifelessness in the air. He chuckled at the ghost deer that looked at him like ''why the hell did you follow me!?'' In the surroundings was a building power that had attracted a large, ugly thing that floated in the air above like a teddy bear shaped blimp made of maggots. All that stood between it and its goal was a collection of elementals, a horse and a handful of fireflys. Even Venito, as perplexed as he was, could tell it would be a slaughter.


    To make matters worse, being in a new world did not mean Venito had escaped his tribulation lightning. If anything, it looked more terrifying as it churned with lifeless black streaks between the gold ones. As he tried to figure out what his next move would be, the ghostly deer approached him.


    In a spiritual communication, Venito found out that the deer in front of him was named Ivan. It had hijacked a cousin''s power in an effort to bring itself back from the dead. Being bound by the directives of the power, it used what gifts it had to find what was necessary to give aid and bring murder to the enemy of a mutual friend that this creature and its cousin both had named Orison.


    Their friend was going through a very delicate metamorphosis and had been on the verge of failing multiple times but help had come from many sources to get him thorough. Ivan feared it wouldn''t be enough. Even though Venito could tell that Ivan cared about Orison''s fate, it was more worried about its own to resurrect. It was an event that couldn''t happen until Orison succeeded or else all the power invested in Ivan''s current form would have to be spent in trying to make it succeed.


    Venito chuckled. "So my baby brother has himself in a real mess this time. Well, what''s a big brother for? If the lightning''s going to get me anyway, might as well go down swinging against whatever eye sore that is."


    Venito walked over to the circle where a small, cat''s eye shaped rent in the fabric of reality lay. On the ground lay a ruby ring that he could care less about but there was a mustard seed bracelet that practically screamed good fortune to him. Picking it up, he immediately could tell that it had exhausted itself. Venito bit his thumb and smeared blood on it. He could feel a good portion of his free qi get gobbled up by the bracelet before it joyfully fit itself onto his wrist and opened its treasures to him. There were a lot.


    Grinning from ear to ear, Venito looked at the strange spatial phenomenon in the circle and said, "You always were my little lucky clover, baby brother. Guess this time I''ll have to earn it, though."

 122 Crawling Chaos 20

    As Orison came to, he was greeted with a voice he hadn''t expected to hear for a long time if ever. "Gods and Lords of the Abyss both but you are one greedy f***!"


    Opening his eyes, the young mage looked around. What greeted him was a blasted and scorched land of ashes, blood and gore. Closing his eyes again, Orison quickly tried to verify what was going on internally to see nothing, just a cavernous maw of darkness. There was no sub-mind, just a soul so compressed it was not noticeably bigger than the core itself. Even his aura was pressed so tightly against him naturally that there was no discernible difference to his skin.


    Muttering to himself, Orison said, "What am I going to do about my plane and summons? There''s literally nothing left."


    Venito voice cut through the mental fog. "You turn moon touched or something? No hug, no hi, not even a f*** you?"


    Belatedly, it dawned on him that some rather impossible things must have happened while he was possibly on the verge of absolute oblivion. Orison opened his eyes again and took in his brother. The man was dressed in some fancy but completely out of place robes complete with slippers.


    Orison snickered at the absurdity of it and said, "You look like you''re dressed for a Chinese period drama, maybe one of those seventies martial arts movies."


    Sighing Venito realized that Orison wasn''t completely in control of his mental facilities yet.


    Snatching him up in a customary punishment hug, Venito said, "I''m glad you''re alright. I really started getting worried when the floating ghost v*gina you were in started eating lightning bolts. Then again, it ate the ugly floating maggot monster, a few a**holes who don''t know how to mind their own business and even some of my tribulation blessing... As if the f***ing dead air around here wasn''t snatching enough as it was. Luckily, this world''s just as greedy as you are and sucked more down like a hungry wh*re."


    Beating his brother''s back more for release than affection, Orison wheezed, "Have some class. By now, I''m sure you''ve learned that everyone''s a people at the end of the day. No one''s really better than....Screw it. I give up. Just let go and I promise to keep the lecture to myself."


    Venito said, "No. In the Northland, brothers are allowed to hug for thirty breaths a year that they are separated. You''ve got ninety more to go."


    Orison managed to squeak through protesting ribs, "It''s been four years!? At least let up a little or I won''t be breathing AT ALL!"


    Loosening his grip just enough to keep Orison from passing out, Venito said, "You really snatched my chestnuts out of the fire this time, baby brother. Then again, I think I returned the favor."


    When the mustard seed bracelet notified Venito of the ring trying to escape, the man had kicked it into the void hole with a force that broke the sound barrier. Orison thanked whatever beings were looking out for him that he hadn''t started forming back up again or he would have survived all of that only to die from a hole the size of a tank piercing round going through him.


    With an odd kind of realization, Orison knew his summons weren''t dead. The hollowness inside of him was so immense that he wasn''t spiritually strong enough to call them back. The ring was shredded however. It''s final act of betrayal had earned it oblivion but it had held on long enough for its contents to clear the hurdle of turbulent void into a calmer part beyond Orison''s current ability to reach.


    Orison barely got through inviting Venito to take a car ride to a spot he had found the day before when his brother started fading from view. "If I thought I had the time to go out drinking and chasing tail with you, do you think I''d have hugged your senseless a** while you were naked? I''m afraid we might not ever see each other again, baby brother. If you make it...my kids for me!"


    Looking at the spot where Venito disappeared, Orison said, "Never say never, big brother. Cultivators might ''climb'' differently and that might take you far away but I have a feeling things just might get more narrow closer to the top."


    On the ride back to Neil''s apartment, only four hours past midday, Orison went through every ability and quirky part of himself that he''d once had. There was no glamour but his will was honed to a scary degree. He couldn''t call forth devouring intent but his whole body could become a hole for fractions of seconds at a time that left him feeling like he ran a marathon. After the second time he did it, there was a faint, far away protest from the elementals. They weren''t scared, just mildly upset, like Orison had given them a lot of work to do.


    As much as he wanted to, it seemed like a bad idea to try magic. His current feeling was no different than when he felt like he only had fumes left but had no idea how long it would take to fill whatever reserve he currently had. He felt like it would take a very long time.


    Before turning to matters of his current reality, Orison mulled over the nearly natal-like memory of a place that could only be described as a maelstrom. It was a constantly swirling, violent chaos. All of everything was little more than a minuscule bubble, an eye in the storm that was the boundary between something and nothing at all. At least, that''s the way it felt but Orison knew that there were plenty of ''somethings'' within the ''nothing at all''.


    That''s where the outsiders came from and the Maelstrom is where they spawned their nonsensical offspring to die or survive and return to the outside. The young mage knew it couldn''t be that simple but that''s all he could get from the vague impressions and fragments embedded in the core of his soul. A soul core that gleamed with multicolored winks within the bright whiteness of a state no different than a condensed eternium spark but with extra-dimensional deepness.


    With a gust of desert wind, Ignatius appeared in Orison''s passenger seat. "I have wondered. Out of the mysteries that you represent, why have you not sought to raise women up to stand beside you? Your formidable brother voiced the same thought. He worries about your future happiness more than you do, I think."


    Orison shrugged. "Who has time to think about the future when the present is filled with so much uncertainty... Not that it''s anybody''s business but the reason for not investing in women is fairly simple, if a little contradictory to my own deeper desires... For the women I grow fond of, I don''t want to be responsible for exposing them to the dangers of this life. For ones I might be attracted to but hold no real feelings about, I simply don''t feel I have ever had the resources to waste on ''landscaping''."


    Ignatius looked at him in confusion. "Landscaping?"


    Orison chuckled. "Landscaping or gardening, take your pick. I don''t feel like throwing precious resources just to improve my surroundings with beauty or any other kind of vanity save comfort. The men I''ve raised were in camaraderie or to improve my chances of survival... It might be a little screwed up, maybe even a little misogynist but I raise soldiers to fight by my side and catch shrapnel in front of me. To balance that out, over time I care more and try to value their lives as much as I can.


    "I don''t know if I could do that to a woman. The more I find out about greater reality, the more reticent I become to do it to or for anyone. In the long run, it doesn''t even feel like I''m really doing them any favors. I''m just giving them different problems, ones they might not be up to solving.


    "For instance, my best friend is apparently dead but getting revived. My first student is now residing in my stag pin, hoping I can find a way to help him come back and my second student is aimlessly drowning himself in hedonism waiting for me to magically show up and help him find direction I''m struggling to find for myself."


    Ignatius looked at him appraisingly, "For all that you''ve undergone and discovered in the last few hours, you''re awfully collected."


    Orison said, "I''m not. I''m actually pretty messed up. There seems to be a new dimmer switch installed for emergency emotional trauma and I''m using it."


    Ignatius replied, "I''m familiar. It''s not good to rely on such things overly much or you''ll lose your emotional color. It makes life very dull."


    The young mage smiled weakly. "I figured as much but in this instance, I''d just be overreacting anyway. Once I''m over the hump, I''ll ease it off... Morbid curiosity here. How long does it take to become a tier four on average, as far as you know."


    Ignatius chuckled. "That''s a loaded question. For a person with the depth of whatever family you have behind you, it depends on your legacy and how they want you to become one but it''s almost a guarantee. Short answer is there isn''t a real answer. I''m not that informed on the issue but from the little I know, a few hundred years isn''t considered slow for a human. Considering how few even do become tier four, making it in the span of a single human lifetime would be considered fast and the person would be seen as either a talent or a waste depending on how much potential they have left.


    Thoughtful but somewhat disbelieving, Orison said, "It doesn''t make sense. It seems pretty easy to become a ''climber''. Becoming step four only seems like a matter of time as long as a person doesn''t die. Why is it so hard to become a tier four? From what I can figure out, steps seem more important to ''climbing'' than tier anyway."


    Ignatius'' attempt to hold back jealous rage was visibly notable. "This is the difference in background. I was born tier three and have had very little progress because I''ve never had access to any good resources or guidance. It took me over eight thousand years to get where I am. You''re, what, less than half a century old and could catch up to me in just a few years, shooting straight past."


    "No matter what path is taken, they all have some common needs. The two most important are talent and resources. A certain amount of determination and guidance is needed as well. Not having one of those four makes it a struggle. Not having two of those four and it''s nearly impossible. Only having one is worse than none at all."


    In an effort to unruffle feathers, Orison said, "Well, I have no doubts you possess talent and from here on out you have a way to collect resources. Catching up to you might not prove so easy, you know. Don''t think I''m not going to try, though."


    Neither pride nor inborn arrogance could refute Orison, even if the ifrit knew better.


    With a complicated look, Ignatius said, "Just how big is your family''s pull? I''ve only seen a handful of cultivators over the expanse of my years. How did they send one to you for protection?"


    Orison shrugged and conversation died until they reached Neil''s office.


    Zora was waiting on them and after seeing through some of Orison''s changes, she said, "Good job, pretty boy. Now is less distracting.... Trading in small wagon for big one while only having same horse may not have been good for you right now. This, I think must be said."


    As much as he didn''t want to admit it, her words weren''t wrong. The ability he had on a daily basis to replace what free essence he lost or used could barely keep up with maintaining himself. Until he had some momentum, he''d be in danger of cannibalizing his progress to make up the difference.


    Zora nodded in satisfaction to see that Orison understood. "Alright. Here is plan, pretty boy. Neil was investigating art dealer. One artist and two patrons have gone missing. Possible others may be linked. The lady is named Muriel but it rings with untruth.


    "She is known in art circle for two things. She loves sculptures, especially ones of Greek heroes and gods. She also likes strong men and pretty boys... Guess what I want you to do."


    Orison sighed. "Go into the art gallery. Make some fawning appreciation over whatever is there and hope I''ve got enough of what she likes to grab her attention."


    Zora smiled. "You also play smart but poor student. Make to be someone interesting but easily overlooked if you went missing... Do you know trick to hide power?"


    Orison nodded and Zora asked him to demonstrate. With an effort of concentration, Orison pulled his extra realness in til he looked much the same as anyone else. Combined with the state of his tightly drawn aura, he blended in well. Due to the ever constant pressure of inert essence, weaker auras would naturally compress, making people with strong spirits and supernaturals stand out to one another.


    After a thorough briefing to cover a variety of small details and an impromptu visit to a secondhand shop, Orison was sporting a clean and serviceable ''starving artist'' outfit. Looking in the dressing room mirror, he sighed at himself, slightly depressed. The young mage was grateful to be blessed with what advantages he did but fate and circumstance seemed bent on denying him the full masculine charm he knew a touch of maturity would give him.


    As he walked to the downtown area, Orison muttered to himself, "Flying Spaghetti Monster in the sky, this humble person is grateful for the bounty of your gifts but would it be possible to be a little less forever seventeen and a little more forever twenty-one?"


    Nearly a half hour later, Orison reached the art gallery in question. Passing through the glass front doors, he pretended to struggle internally as he pulled out the outrageous five dollar entrance fee to place in the box as a sympathetic man in a top brand set of artsy leisure clothes handed him a ticket stub.


    Subtly evaluating Orison, the man said, "I can only think of two reasons why a struggling young man such as yourself would be in a place like this. Are you an art student looking for connections or are you looking for a modeling gig?... No need to feel bad about either as long as you''re not pushy. We all had to start somewhere."


    Borrowing against the slightly embarrassing situation and the natural guilt associated with telling a complete lie of a sob story, Orison forced some redness into his ears as he said shyly, "Unless you want to count the art of saving lives, I''m afraid it''s the second one. One of my fellow Pre-Med friends said that modeling might get me by while I look for a scholarship but didn''t know enough about it. Truthfully, I don''t think he likes me much but he''s one of the few people I know around here... If I knew how hard coming to the big city to go to school would be, I might have looked at other options but I''m committed now."


    Putting on a sad face, Orison finished, "It''s not like I have anything to go back for anyway," As if he was forcing himself to be chipper, he added, "But a lot can happen in two weeks, right?"


    Puzzled, the man took the bait. "What happens in two weeks?"


    Looking troubled, Orison said, "I took off the summer to earn money but I have to look for more permanent residence and it would take a good deal of what I''ve earned to do that... My whole reason for being here is to attend a good school. If I have to spend tuition on rent..."


    Evaluating Orison with a different, colder set of eyes, the man said, "There are a couple of patrons that might be interested in... taking you in. Depending on how much, er, compassion you could make them feel-"


    The young mage glared at the man. "I might be willing to show a little skin for the sake of something as respectable as art but that''s my bottom line!... For the sake of pursuing my original goal, let''s pretend that never happened, alright?"


    The man took in Orison''s combination of anger, fear and barely checked desperation before visibly defrosting. "Sorry about that. Some unsavory types have tried to use the gallery as a way to reach more wealthy clientele. We obviously would have no interest in being associated with such a thing... Truly, I''m not trying to make things difficult for you but we have a reputation to maintain."


    Putting on a facade of relief, Orison said, "I-I can see your perspective."


    During their conversation, the young mage''s few seconds of slightly raised volume had attracted the attention of a couple of patrons who were touring the paintings nearby. He''d also managed to draw the attention of two artists who looked at the man beside Orison with a quizzical expression.


    The man turned to Orison and said, "Well, you''ve paid the money. You might as well look around. It might help your future prospects if you had some idea of what kind of poses and such you might be asked to hold for long periods of time. Draw some sense of it from the paintings and sculptures. See if it''s something you can do... In the meantime, I can drop a whisper to the director and see if any of her artists are searching."


    Orison flashed his best smile and said, "I''d really appreciate that!"

 123 Crawling Chaos 21

    With a warning to not get hopes up too high, the man excused himself to reassure the patrons and artists while the young mage appreciated the art, taking in the sub-par daily rotated displays and slightly more interesting reproductions put up to appease casuals. Hiding his lack of enthusiasm, Orison continued to project sincerity and earnestness as he pretended to take the man''s advice about studying the posture and poses. That slightly changed as he imagined himself as the person in them.


    Occasionally, he managed some very real admiration for how difficult it might have been for some of the models to hold the poses they did. If the artist in question really had made them hold some of these positions for more than a handful of minutes, it would have been real torture. Looking at the art with that kind of frame of mind, he could see why nearly all models used by artists tended to be very physically fit. They may very well have wanted more variety of subjects but only so many could muster the fortitude needed to endure the artist''s ''vision''.


    As Orison indulged in a fantasy of ''being put through his paces'' in the buff with some understated beauty of an art girl, knowing that this wasn''t an era that really supported women engaging in such professions, a man that had been setting up the display he was looking at said, "Run off back to The Village, rent boy."


    The man''s voice was deep and raspy from disuse. Orison took in the gaunt frame, clothes more worn than his own and a pallidness that spoke of poor diet and too many hours spent indoors. The antisocial vibe the man put off gave Orison the impression of shy uncertainty rather than surliness. The stag pin the young mage gripped in his pocket was giving Orison the impression of concerned sympathy rather than dislike which made a complete lie of the the incredibly rude and offensive comment.


    The young mage thought, "He knows something... I''m sorry starving artist dude but I''m going to have to avoid your character killing, good intention rescue. I will remember it, though."


    Outwardly, Orison projected suppressed, angry humiliation while pretending that he hadn''t heard. Unwilling to cause a scene, the man returned to his work as the stag pin fed Orison an outpouring of sad hopelessness. Trying to balance what he thought a person who was desperate would endure with what a person with self respect and dignity wouldn''t, the young mage finished a full circle before realizing that he''d need to come back another day or risk appearing too needy, maybe raising suspicion of hidden agendas. Either of which might slow down his progress and time was of the essence.


    On his way out the door, the man who had been at front reception said, "The director wasn''t in today but the owner will see you tomorrow evening at Taverna. It''s a restaurant a little north of here, two streets to the right."


    From the stag pin, Orison got nothing more than what one would expect from a nice man who had successfully completed a good deed. Whoever he was, in the grand scheme, he was a clueless lackey in whatever darkness reached out from the place. And darkness, there was. Within corners and wisps under the floor of the place were traces of negative energy.


    A five minute walk down the road, Orison felt two sets of eyes on him. One was overhead in the form of a crow breaking out of normal patterns and the other was from the weary artist from earlier who was trying to catch up with him without looking like he was doing it on purpose. Taking pity on the poor man whose pulse was already a little on the erratic side, Orison slowed his pace down.


    Finally catching up to the young mage, the man said, "Oh, so you were heading this way too? I, uh, would like to apologize for earlier."


    With a pained look into his flat wallet, the man suggested a cheap pup nearby were he''d buy Orison a drink to make it formal. Due to the eyes flying above, Orison was somewhat torn on what looked less suspicious between denying the guy who insulted him or looking petty for not accepting the apology when he presented himself as a clean cut and wholesome person. Seeing a Darby''s nearby, the young mage compromised for a soda instead.


    Using the excuse to suffer in solidarity, Orison ordered a burger and fries for the both of them. There was a strange but mild fluctuation of emotion from the manager at the register but the young mage didn''t pay it much attention. Whether it was that or the extra second of staring as he took the change, it wasn''t that out of the ordinary for him to have to deal with.


    As they split up the meals and drinks, the man who introduced himself as Nicolas said, "Look, I didn''t really mean it. I''m sure you''re a cool cat and all but that place is bad news. Hit the bricks down to Pittura on the Piazza if you''re looking for some quick gigs in the scene."


    Orison said, "If it''s so bad, why are you still there?"


    Nicolas replied, "I''d be splitsville in the beat of a bongo if I wasn''t about to break into the circle, man."


    Chuckling, the young mage said, "I know talking like that''s uncomfortable. I''m nobody you need to impress by acting trendy. Just relax."


    A bit sheepishly, the sculptor said, "Building brand is important. Most of the fat cats... Most of the patrons want to be trendy by supporting trendy. It''s kind of sad that the gallery owners are the ones who pretty much spoon feed what''s good and what''s not. What''s good right now is young and urban. I swear, there was this guy who was painting the same soup can in different hues and our director was on the phone with this guy from Los Angeles already priming to up sell the guy... Makes me wonder why I went into sculpting. It really is a dying art."


    Orison shook his head. "Keep your integrity. If you''re genuine and your art is genuine, you won''t have to pander to any scene to make it, assuming you have the talent. Just don''t make enemies out of important people. Sculptures aren''t dying, they''re just moving back outside.


    "The Great Depression killed ''temple of decadence'' architecture and money''s not as concentrated into a few hands as it once was. It''ll be a long time before it is again and no one will be wanting to flaunt that because people will have grown used to being ''equal'' by then. The public will be offended by vulgar displays of wealth rather than awed by it because it will remind them of what they''ve lost."


    Nicolas looked at Orison skeptically and said, "Says the cat who wants to flash skin to make rent."


    The young mage shrugged. "Truth will speak for itself... And believe me, it''s going to be a very temporary gig."


    Nicolas sighed. "Alright, my man. If you say so. Keep in mind what I said... If you can''t find what you need in The Village, then get some work at the Piazza. There''s plenty of creeps there too but they''ll just want to get fresh with you. The boss lady, she''s a dangerous chick."


    Rubbing his forehead, all too aware that there was an eavesdropping crow outside, Orison said, "I have a dinner date with your boss lady, at least that''s who I''m assuming the director''s assistant was referring to. If I don''t go, then I''m pretty sure there WON''T be any gigs for me at this pizza place. You might find yourself in some hot water too."


    Nicolas shuddered but then said animatedly, "The Piazza, man, not pizza! It''s the Square for squares, you dig?... Err... Anyway, if you got to go, be careful."


    Orison said wryly, "Alright, I will... Speaking of avoiding danger, lay off alcohol until you can get a few days worth of greens and some oranges in you. Five to ten minutes of sun a day for however much of YOUR fish belly skin you''re willing to flash wouldn''t be a bad idea either. You''re very close to getting really sick."


    Nicolas laughed. "I knew you seemed like too much of a nerd to be selling your...face." Flashing a sloppy salute, he added, "Right-O then, doc."


    As the topic switched to casual conversation, the crow flew off. It didn''t take long before the siren''s call of his artistic passion had Nicolas itching to be back in the studio but before they parted ways, Orison was approached by the manager for an offer to participate in a newspaper ad photography shoot. The young mage wasn''t interested in the least but with Nicolas right there and how suspicious it would look to pass up some easy money to ''model'' for something far more wholesome, it was too difficult to turn down.


    While he had been doing his thing, Zora hadn''t been idle. He had no way of speaking with her directly for fear of more mundane methods of surveillance that wouldn''t be so obvious but that didn''t stop them from passing a message. Orison went to pick up his ''remaining belongings'' from a bus station locker that would have updates in it and a way for Orison to leave a note as well.


    Taking the duffel bag of carefully picked ''possessions, Orison turned in at a cheap hostel that had already been prepaid earlier in the day. Once assured of privacy and with no signs of supernatural spying, the young mage checked out the note in the bag covertly before making a note of his own on it. Aside from some detailed divining to locate possible ''warehouses'' where the missing persons might be kept, there wasn''t much else to add aside from unspoken effort to put together his duffel bag and a safety net of back up.


    To finish off his day, Orison switched off the buffer on his emotions. After a solid hour of surprisingly intense emotional outpouring in the form of a pity party, the young mage invested himself into a long meditation session to help with the restoration of essence until he drifted off into trance. In the early hours of the morning, he did so again with a minor training session disguised as a physical fitness routine added in.


    Taking advantage of the textbooks Zora had placed in his bag, the young mage found a tastefully artistic but moderately quiet coffee house and set up shop most of the day, diligently studying. It felt like lifetimes since he had last devoted himself to an academic endeavor and even if it had started out as an act, his inherent nature had him devouring the books in earnest. The notepad to the side slowly began to fill with rough sketches and notations.


    Through his ''act'', Orison discovered some important information about the fate of his sub-mind as well. With the sub-mind as a bridge, the spiritual seat in the young mage''s mind had fused more directly with his soul, allowing it to act as the center of memory and even control bodily functions. That didn''t mean his brain had become a decoration. It just meant that damage to it wasn''t quite as instantly or unavoidably fatal as it had once been.


    More importantly, death of the physical body didn''t mean the end of ''self''. He had transitioned from having a part of his soul capable of remembering and controlling his body to his soul housing his memory and personality rather than his brain. Things like hormones, toxins and cellular death of neurons would no longer affect his core perception of self and existence around him. He was also no longer a purely material existence that had a soul in it.


    With the quasi spiritual plants on his mini-plane as a reference, he had taken on a small percentage of spiritual existence as a physical being, about one or two percent as far as he could guess. He could envision that as he continued to grow in power and strength of existence, he could reach a point where he could theoretically reconstruct himself from as little as a single drop of blood with some pretty heavy stipulations. The largest stipulation would be spiritual integrity and the second largest would be availability of resources.


    That knowledge also hinted at a possible future existential crisis. It was all theory and question at the moment but he was compelled wonder. What was the trade off? To become a more spiritual existence meant to be a less material one, obviously. What was lost during such a transition? What was gained? How much importance would he continue to place on his physical form moving forward?


    Orison decided to pack the thoughts away as it came closer to his meeting time with Muriel. Something fundamentally important lied at the heart of this matter and it felt like a casual afternoon of inner reflection wasn''t the best way to reach a conclusion on it. Exchanging a quick but relatively shallow epiphany for a deeper, more expansive one at a later date seemed like a good investment.


    Within a bathroom stall of the coffee shop, Orison put on the carefully packed ''Sunday best'' that Zora had prepared for him. It was far too similar to the first outfit that he had bought Neil to be a coincidence. After a few years of wear and careful mending, it carried the gravity of dignified poverty very well and its continued existence in Neil''s wardrobe spoke of nostalgia and a meticulous design of costume/disguise for certain occasions. Being a private detective did carry a bit of some of the same characteristics as a spy after all.


    Being so aware of what he was wearing made him display the same kind of worry and care a person with only one ''good'' suit would exhibit subconsciously as he made his way to the Greek restaurant, Taverna. Orison mentally complimented Zora''s attention to detail as he felt the return of the spying crow. There was a hint of curiosity at just how good Zora might be at manipulating people as well.


    Wondering if he was in for some high class snobbery and snubbing, the young mage was pleasantly surprised to find that the restaurant in question was fairly middle income friendly. It was overall friendly, in fact. A point that was easily observed as he was lead to a table where a beautiful olive skinned woman sporting an impressive volume of loosely curled, inky tresses was sitting.


    After a lukewarm introduction, which Orison presented his student card for, he said, "I''m sorry. You strike me as being a lovely person but you aren''t the person I''m here to meet. Why are you pretending to be Muriel?"


    The woman in question, raised a carefully groomed eyebrow and asked, "What makes you so sure?"


    Orison smiled. "A lack of money does not equal a lack of common sense. You''re too young, don''t possess the command presence and willfulness of someone who is used to authority or has been raised with privilege. The first could be dismissed if you possessed either of the other two... I''m more than happy to continue with the assumption if you like, though. You are quite stunning and likely far more easy to converse with."


    The lady stood up. "I''m afraid that since you know the truth, our conversation is over but, if I may be so bold, you''re not too hard on the eyes yourself. Not someone that I''d entertain dating but pleasant enough to look at."


    Forcing down the bitterness of her backhanded compliment, Orison said in saccharine tone, "So, is the woman of the hour going to make an appearance herself or is she too afraid of being compared to you. You look like a tough act to follow. I''m somewhat surprised she''d use a woman that''s probably more beautiful than herself as a proxy. She''s more broadminded than I had originally pictured her."


    The woman shuddered slightly and the smile on her face wavered before she collected herself enough to slip back into neutrality. "Enjoy your meal, Mr. Rainier. Who knows what you''ll have to sell to get your next one."


    Giving a saintly smile to her back, he shot, "Less than what you will to keep your current job, nameless extra."


    The dignified and austere middle-aged woman who stopped her from laying into Orison, turned to face him from a nearby table. She was no beauty but the calm dignity and sharpness in her features was reminiscent of a queen. It also radiated a casual cruelty and disregard for others. She didn''t so much invite Orison to her table as command it with her eyes. Orison complied with what dignity he could considering the chair she gestured to made it necessary to walk around another table and left little room to position it for comfort.


    Staring a hole into him through small vanity sunglasses, Muriel said, "How easily your facade of naive little country boy is broken."


    As he studied the woman''s distinct Mediterranean features that had faded from austere beauty to fearsome matron-hood with time, Orison said in a suggestive tone, "A diamond has more than one facet, mam. And anyone who tramples on my dignity will find out how hard and rough this country boy can be."


    Ignoring his sauciness, she pulled out a manila envelope from her large purse and read from it. "Allen Rainier, nineteen years old. You just completed your first year at NYU? Quite a ways to go to already be running into financial difficulties. "Whatever your dreams and aspirations are, I can help you or I can put a swift and decisive end to them. When you are in front of me, child, you will be an obedient lamb. I don''t see a diamond. I see a lump of coal. If you can survive my pressure, you will be a diamond or you''ll be dust. Either way, you are mine to do with as I please and no amount of country boy dignity will be able to change that.


    "Report to this address at nine o'' clock sharp or leave town. Those are your options. Feel free to pursue other ones. I''m feeling a distinct itch to crush someone''s spirit and after your provocation, you''ll serve just fine. Give me a reason to change my mind by being exceptionally obedient or exceptionally afraid."


    Orison thought, "Wow. What a b*tch."

 124 Crawling Chaos 22

    Orison resisted the urge to spit in her face as he picked up the slip with the address. Before leaving for the race against time to get to the other end of town Muriel had clearly intended it to be, The young mage walked up to the register and ordered the house''s special of the day on take out with the best bottle of wine the restaurant had to offer, placing it on Muriel''s tab. She was too busy pretending he had ceased to exist.


    Whatever thoughts or actions Muriel may have taken on it were limited by her inability to know exactly what he had planned before the food and wine had been handed to him and he was out the door. Accustomed to doing what she wanted without question and under the impression that no one would be foolish enough to drop her name without her permission, the restaurant assumed it to be Muriel''s instruction. The small act of pettiness allowed Orison to leave without an explosion.


    Halfway across town, the young mage had managed to catch a ride with a delivery guy heading the direction he was going and hitched a ride. Sitting in the back of the pickup, he opened the food container only to find that it looked days old and slightly moldy. It wasn''t that much of a surprise. He had felt some kind of negative energy draw near for a second but far from upset, he was tickled in finding she was every bit as petty as he was.


    Close to his destination, the young mage let the guy know as he jumped out. The man warned him that the area he was in belonged to mafia and to be careful. Orison responded by handing the man his bottle of likely vinegar wine and told the man to give it as a gag gift to someone.


    Walking through a neighborhood that couldn''t be considered good or bad at a casual glance, the young mage actually managed to get lost for a few minutes on the labyrinthine streets. By the time he had managed to find the rather nice townhouse that was his destination, he didn''t have nearly the amount of comfortable time he had originally anticipated. Despite that, he still leisurely strode up to the gate guard and announced himself only after he had strolled around the front half of the property once. There wasn''t much chance of need but he wanted to be ready for a quick exit if necessary.


    After a call to the house from the guard box intercom, there was a small wait before the man on duty gave Orison a pitying look and said, "You were late. Ms. Gorgonos won''t be seeing you this evening."


    Orison affected resigned depression. "Alright, I get that she''s got to show me my place and all that. Just let me rest for a second. I had to hoof all the way across town to get here and even if I had the money for a cab, I doubt she''d let you call me one."


    The guard, somewhat expecting an outburst, was taken by surprise. "Well, as long as you don''t cause a ruckus and stay a respectable distance from the guard box, I don''t mind you taking a couple of minutes to catch your breath."


    Conspiratorially, he said, "Hey, is she actually falling on hard times or something? I mean, when I saw that her artists looked a little down and out, I didn''t think much of it but then she stiffed me on dinner and now I find out her house is in disrepair."


    After taking a moment to report the situation to the house, the guard said, "I''m sorry, my friend. I''m sure you''re tired but it''s probably best you don''t hang around."


    Affecting a sympathetic expression, Orison nodded and as he walked away, he said, "You can tell her it''s alright. She''s obviously having some financial difficulties at the moment. I''ll look for some side work somewhere else. I hope she gets back on her feet soon."


    During their exchange, the guard had kept the intercom open just in case Orison had done something like try to run past him towards the house. The buzzing crackle of feedback as someone tried to send out while it was already open could be heard from where Orison was. By the time the guard responded, he felt that the young mage was far away enough that he needed to half yell in an attempt to get Orison''s attention.


    The guard said, "Hey buddy, Ms. Gorgonos told me to tell ya truce. She''s sending a maid with a plate of bread and some salt."


    Walking back, Orison was a bit confused. He expected his mini temper tantrum would have some effect but it wasn''t this.


    Misunderstanding the young mage''s perplexed expression, the guard added, "I don''t get it either, buddy. This has to be one of the wonkiest places I''ve worked. I''d say take it with a grain of salt but, haha, that''s what it looks like you''ll be doin anyway."


    A minute later, with ritual grace, Orison sprinkled a little of the oil and salt offered onto a bread stick and took a bite off the end. With that done, the maid who brought it out took him to meet Muriel in a den that looked very much like it belonged to a traditional man rather than the regal woman who paced in it presently.


    In a half amused, half angry manner, Muriel said, "Have a seat or stand as you wish. Do you care for a drink? I plan on helping myself. Iron workers in this city are a nightmare to deal with and I''ll never make the mistake of asking a sculptor to help with house repairs ever again."


    The 180 from royal b*tch to relatable person was jarring to the young mage but he decided to take a small leap of faith and accepted a double shot of brandy.


    Airing his confusion, Orison said, "Not to question the sudden left turn too hard but why are you so willing to change approach with me?"


    Knocking back a shot and pouring another, she said, "I''m already on thin ice with the collective... If you don''t know who they are, you will soon since I''m going to introduce you to one of their coordinators. Better to earn some goodwill at this point than to keep playing an evil witch... What do you know about secret societies?"


    Being open after the little cloak and dagger routine made Orison feel like he''d let his temper cost them nearly two days worth of intense effort but if he could use this opportunity to cut straight to the heart of the matter more quickly, he''d take it.


    The young mage said, "Enough to know I don''t know enough."


    Muriel grimaced over the sharpness of her drink and threw in, "My husband was a Mason in good standing. This city used to be a safe place, supernaturally speaking anyway. There''s a lot of good people in that society but there''s a movement. Some call them the new blood and some call them the skull and crossbones. They call themselves The Illuminati and they''re about as benign as radiation sickness. They''ve also been a crumbly brick in the Mason''s organization from nearly the beginning of the Renaissance.


    "Jonathan, you might know him as the CEO and board director responsible for cosmetics and women''s apparel at Mercer''s INC, he and I went out to an old quarry earlier today. He brought me in as a consultant... My talents make me sensitive to the signatures left behind by the use of gifts.


    "One of the signatures there matches one that was left on a car driving back to Port Haven nine years ago. It also matches the one lingering on my gate outside... Don''t be so tense. I haven''t said anything to Jonathan yet and the little stains that died out there were part of the new blood. Unfortunately, their parents are as well. Under the table, I and Mr Carter would like nothing more than to thank you for whatever you did to wipe out those little hemorrhoids. Above the table, I have to tell you that if you are figured out, Mr. Cantrip, there are few places you could go to seek asylum.


    "Throw your lot in with the collective as soon as you can. I''d suggest putting some distance between yourself and this city as well. The powers behind the collective would probably be more than thrilled to have a smart young gifted that has aspirations of becoming something a little more substantial than another rug weaver, junk jewelry maker or whatever else most of the collective''s lower echelon are mostly comprised of."


    Organizing his thoughts as quickly as he could, Orison said, "I''m more than a little confused. If you know that much then you know why I''m here to begin with."


    Muriel looked agitated. "No one aside from Jonathan and myself knew how much Neil had been doing to keep us informed of certain activities in the city... Hell, I was the one who helped find that cheeky man the last time he''d gotten a little too close to the new blood''s business. If you''re looking for him then I don''t know how to help you.


    "Yes, I posted a request through one of my subordinates to have him snoop around me. I was trying to find out what happened to some of the artists and models that had disappeared and I wanted his help in a way that wouldn''t associate the two of us in a positive way. Painting myself as one of his suspects allowed him to contact me more frequently without drawing suspicion from who I assume are behind their and his vanishing.


    "I''d warned him to only go as far as was safe. I think he became emotionally invested and went too far...again. I admit part of the blame. Neil''s a good man and I should have known better but he''s a pretty damn good detective too. If I''d have been thinking more clearly, I wouldn''t have put him on it in the first place.


    "I put on my nasty mask and walk around like some villain from a story book but I really do care about my artists. Art''s one of the last things that bring any color and joy to this ruin of a life I live now. I hate them so much but unless I have something solid to throw in the faces of our leaders, it''s pointless. Cover up and move on is the blanket strategy at this point and that makes the Mason''s vulnerable to the new blood''s vicious antics."


    He still didn''t have a bead on the woman. He might as well have not even tried to use the stag pin as there was nothing coming from her. Considering the film of negative energy that rolled around her but lacked the faint hint of sweet rot that necromancy had, she was a curse master. Twisting a charm to block empathy would be a piece of cake.


    Orison asked, "If you care about your artists, why is Nicolas so close to sticking a foot in the grave and why is he scared of you?"


    At the mention of Nicolas her eyes softened a little and then she started laughing. "They''re all scared of me, Mr. Cantrip. I can''t afford to show a single lick of affection for any of them. Due to my position as a widow of one of the current leadership''s fallen and a person of considerable might in my own right, the new blood don''t dare lash at me directly but everyone around me is fair game.


    "As for sweet, awkward little Nicolas, he gets so wrapped up into his work that he can go days without eating or getting proper rest. I honestly don''t know what to do about him sometimes. The poor young man is so gullible that he''s half convinced I was the one who made that model of his disappear. It''s probably better that way. The more he hates me, the safer he is."


    He wanted to believe her. Her situation and way of handling it was something Orison could understand and sympathize with. This world illustrated at every turn the prices one had to pay for power and it would sooth his heart a little to know that there were people like what Muriel presented herself to be, within it. He didn''t, though.


    The little inconsistencies to her weary but actually good hearted person act could be played off as being out of practice and out of touch with her ''true'' self since she had to put on a b*tch act everyday but Orison wasn''t a casual or mundane observer. Her heart rate was even. There were no signs of distress. No matter if it was the mean girl act in the restaurant or the aggrieved victim role she was playing now, both were delivered with the glacier calm of a sociopath.


    Ultimately, the deep game Muriel was playing didn''t matter to Orison at all. He wasn''t here to expose her. He was here to find Neil. And even though he hadn''t found any clues, there was some kind of spatial anomaly in her basement. If she had some kind of extra dimensional pocket, there was a possibility of it being what they were looking for.


    It was only a possibility, however. Orison wasn''t particularly willing to throw caution to the wind over a maybe. There were plenty of other reasons and explanations. Her story was air tight for the moment too, even if he didn''t buy the sentiment behind it.


    Struggling for a way to dig more without it being obvious, Orison said, "Well, my being strapped for cash isn''t a lie. I''m not overly fond of the idea of being beholden to some group for support until I figure everything out for myself. If there are some legitimate possibilities of modeling work, I''m still interested in hearing about it."


    Turning thoughtful, Muriel said, "I''ll admit to personal reasons for pushing you towards the collective but keeping you on hand might be useful for a little while. I warn you. I keep personal and work matters separate. If you want modeling work, you need to have the credentials."


    Orison asked, "What did you have in mind for me to prove my credentials?"


    Muriel led him to a sculpting studio in her back yard. After ordering a few materials to be prepared, she asked for a painter she had on residence to come. Once the man received some directions from Muriel, the somewhat tired and lanky man turned to Orison.


    It set the young mage''s mind at ease that the artist who had been ordered to sketch him didn''t seem overly thrilled at the idea. That became important as Muriel''s instructions for position and pose slowly escalated from easy, innocent and fully clothed to difficult and practically pornographic. All the while, Orison was testing around the spatial anomaly with excruciatingly slow subtlety to keep from alerting Muriel.


    A female model, temporarily recruited from staff, was brought in. Things escalated a lot more quickly and at first, the young mage didn''t have any problems dividing his attention between following instructions and pursuing his supernatural investigation. That changed when the female model started becoming a little too invested and Orison''s body control slipped for a moment in response to her ''willingness'', nearly turning a pose imitating the act of intimacy to the act itself. Fortunately, Muriel recognized the need for all involved to have a small break to sort themselves.


    While the young mage used a wet towel provided to him to wipe off the female model''s...sweat... that had collected on him, Muriel acknowledged Orison''s professionalism briefly before calling in a male model recruited from security. Things became awkward quickly and even though the man looked miserable, he started involuntarily responding before they had even reached halfway through ''suggestive'' poses. Orison was glad because it gave him ample reason to deny going any further, something he had planned on doing anyway.


    Muriel attempted a second time with another man recruited from security. It was the guy from the guard gate. Fortunately, Orison had finally breached the protection of the anomaly and had gotten a split second look inside by the time he had reached the portion that had taken down the first guy. The poor security guard suffered a similar fate but unlike the first, lost his composure and got angry at Orison.


    The young mage turned to Muriel and said, "It doesn''t really matter past this point any way. This ''cup bearer at rest'' pose is pretty much past the limit of my comfort zone. No offense to your vision, Ms. Gorgonos, but sitting on another dude''s knee and pretending to whisper to him while resting my head on his shoulder is less classical style and more Santa Claus/ Daddy role play in my eyes."


    Muriel was unamused but the artist laughed as he flipped his sketchbook around to show that in one of his concept blocks, he had put a Santa hat and beard on the security guard''s head. It did worlds for the negative tension as the security guard chuckled nervously, asking to go back to his post.


    "Besides, it''s after one in the morning. Coming all the way across town and engaging in what is essentially isometric exercise for nearly four hours, I don''t have much endurance left in me," Orison added.


    Muriel glanced between him and the panda eyed artist and grudgingly agreed. "The pool bungalow is empty, Mr. Cantrip. Unless you have somewhere to be, feel free to use it... I''ll see that you''re supplied with some refreshments and sleeping clothes."


    The young mage said, "Thank you. I think I''ll take you up on that."


    With a glare of warning, she said, "The main house is off limits for any reason."


    Orison smiled and nodded his agreement. That smile turned a darker shade once Muriel was out of view.

 125 Crawling Chaos 23

    Since he was instructed to take a shower before he started modeling, Orison simply rinsed off and lay in the bungalow''s unnecessarily large bed. The maid, coincidentally the girl he had modeled with, was somewhat hesitant to leave after dropping off snacks and pajamas but the young mage had more important things to do. Looking a little hesitant himself, Orison ''reluctantly'' exclaimed how tired he was and wished her pleasant dreams.


    Since he had been baring it all for hours, putting on bedclothes seemed pointless and it would only make it easier to quickly activate the TSSRR suit if he didn''t. Instead, he pushed himself into trance and came to a little before four in the morning. A little discovery from the night before, he had a bit more control over his trance state as long as he wasn''t overly tired.


    Still reclining restfully, Orison mulled over what the glimpse into the anomaly had showed him. Muriel had almost fooled him, at least partially, with her act. There were men, women and even animals locked in various poses, slowly fossilizing. Most were still alive, in a sense, but beyond saving. He understood what Zora''s intuitive reading meant. By whatever means, they were slowly turning into stone from the outside in. After it reached a certain point, they''d die from various complications if the process was stopped. Not that there would be much left to save of the person they''d once been anyway.


    The only spot of good news is that the process took a long time to reach that point. There were several people potentially capable of being saved but Orison had no idea how he could do it yet. The entrance to the anomaly was in a sub basement area surrounded by wards and curse traps. The people would be in no condition to help themselves even if he could reach them and there were too many variable he didn''t understand.


    Zora was only interested in getting Neil out as far as he knew. The Collective might be sympathetic but Orison was far from positive on whether they''d be willing to get into affairs dealing with the Mason''s or the ''new blood''. Supposing that the people could be saved, they''d be a PR nightmare for the secret societies which would probably lean even the nicer ones towards silencing rather than saving.


    All thoughts on subtle plans went out the window when he felt a cold sensation of negative essence try to work its way into his head. Collecting the clothes he''d been wearing the day before, he found that the stag pin in his pants pocket was missing. The sudden shot of adrenaline was so intense, his world was stained in red before it went white. The whisper of cautiousness and worry over future consequences was drown out in a roar that wasn''t fueled by the hormone drenched centers of the primal brain but his very soul.


    He didn''t so much walk into her town house as walk through it. Doors, drywall and plaster flew in pieces as he made his way towards Muriel''s sanctuary like a slow motion wrecking ball. Bullets bounced of the TSSRR suit helmet or stuck in the back portion before Orison slammed a security guard''s head into a particularly solid wall and sent a spike of will to knock out another, causing a small amount of damage to the poor man''s spiritual seat. Even in the midst of nearly mindless rage, a portion still knew who was responsible and who had just been dragged into it, giving the young mage just enough impetus to not murder his way to Muriel but pull his lashing out below lethal range.


    Sigil after sigil lit up the entire place like a thick blanket of Christmas decorations but the multiple layers of wards and curse traps only made him more bold as Orison brought his space to the surface. The rest of his vengeful trek was done looking like a two dimensional, pure black cut-out of a person dashing through Muriel''s place. Flickering between ghost-like and a living black hole, he threw himself at her like a feral animal.


    In the cavernous sub basement of Muriel''s house, the woman drew up her most powerful wards to keep Orison away as she screamed entreaties and threats at him. Seeing that her best efforts were only buying her a few seconds, she gave up all pretense and drew out the entity dwelling within her shadow. An inky representation of femininity in titan form coalesced around her.


    The entity made of shadow and negative spiritual essence hunched over to fit in the confined space, dwarfing the young mage. Where the head should be, a writhing mass of inky snakes coiled and lashed about. Set deep within the mass, two gloomy orbs glowed with dull gray light. Around Orison, wood and upholstered fabric petrified along with any other organic material but none of it did more than pass through or into the chaotically churning edges of his space.


    When the dark palm of the shadowy giantess slapped down on him, Orison buckled momentarily. Shattering an ankle and suffering fractures in his shoulder, his space began defensively churning and chewing into the palm momentarily. Suddenly slipping through what was left of the large hand in ethereal ease, the coiled strength within his still good leg released, catapulting him towards the gray orbs.


    With an effort of will, his ghostly form forcefully shifted back to devouring mode. Reaching through the mass of serpentine menace that struck and bit at him, the young mage snatched one and then the other ''eye'' in lightning speed. The core and source of it form devoured into Orison''s space, the shadowy titan collapsed into negative essence mist.


    Slightly fueled by the subtly poisonous substance, the enraged young mage physically twisted Muriel''s head off before turning to the spacial anomaly. Cutting through dense wards and curse work with a lightless black hand, he reached through and devoured the core artifact that had maintained it. A modicum of intellect asserted itself as Orison realized the idiocy of what he had done at the last moment.


    With vengeance dealt, the young mage''s returning rational went into overdrive. To keep the living contents of the anomalous space from being crushed by its collapse back into reality or harmed from the indiscriminate nature of his own space, Orison danced between ghost and devouring forms. Taking in displaced air and all non-living material, he let the victims pass through as the anomaly collapsed.


    With Muriel''s death and the collapse of the anomaly, inert spirit essence began flooding back into her property through the disintegrating wards. Orison''s attention was pulled back to that fact when a distressed cry of alarm issued from all of his summons in concert, managing to barely reach his spiritual perception. He quickly shut and pulled in his space but a great deal of damage was already done. Before he could investigate just how bad it was, essence fatigue and the damage that the inert essence had done to his life force darkened his vision. With a last weak exclamation of ''zero f***s given'' to retract his suit so he''d look like the rest of the victims in the basement, Orison lost consciousness... again.


    Weeks were spent drifting in and out of trance. The young mage knew things were bad and the only thing that kept doctors at the hospital he was in from making it worse was the influx of nearly 300 other patients that had came in with him. On the surface, he was better off but in truth, he was hanging on by a thread. The inert essence within his body was so dense that liquefied portions were swimming around his bloodstream carrying microscopic crystallized death to every inch of his body.


    He would have been long dead from life force drain if the water elemental that inhabited his vital water pool hadn''t devised some way to share it with him in barely safe amounts. It wasn''t the only one. All of his summons had found a way to reach out to him even though he hadn''t been able to reach them. And every one of them besides the horse had found some way to aid in his survival. Whether it was the earth elemental helping draw crystalline obstructions from his body into his space or the sprites sending tiny, pencil dot heals throughout him, his continued existence might have been questionable.


    Once the fires of his life force had been banked back up from where it had fallen to a few minutes, at its lowest, to a few years and the major obstacles to continued life had been removed from his body, the mysterious additional connection severed. For a brief moment, he thought he felt the Danann Key but it was so radically different in feeling, he tacked it up to some benevolent force that was similar. Lacking any better option, he simply thanked it silently and was rewarded with what felt like a ghostly peck on the cheek.


    Once it was noticed by staff that he had come around, a man in a lab coat came to speak with Orison. He knew right away that the man was a society member of one kind or another. There was a quality to the gentleman in question that one glimpse away and it was possible to forget he was there. Trying to recall what he looked like was impossible.


    The man asked the young mage questions about his ordeal which Orison obviously lied about. Keeping the story simple, he just feigned ignorance entirely, only admitting to remembering going to visit Ms. Gorogos about some modeling work but not even clear on who he was. The man finished his questioning with an exercise in hypnosis that Orison allowed to affect his mind, removing it the moment the man left.


    The cover story was well done. A gas leak at Muriel''s house led to the discovery of a nearby holding facility for a human trafficking ring owned by the mob. The poor widow was an unfortunate victim of an attack against her home by said mob and her security staff was set up to look like heroes. The combination of generous payout and medical bill coverage coupled with the ever looming mob retaliation threat to keep all the victims silent and hidden, it was polished to perfection. Orison had no doubts that those who didn''t stay quiet and behind the curtain would indeed face retaliation to keep the cover up pristine.


    The best part for Orison was that those like himself, and there were a few, who couldn''t remember their past lives were given new identities. They were only asked to come forward and reclaim their old identities should the day come that they remembered. The elation over easily acquired legitimacy died as Orison looked over his new identification. It was him. The paper trail that he had made in Port Haven was the same aside from being moved up a handful of years.


    A note clipped on the back of his new driver''s license read, "Good to see you alive and relatively well. Neil is one of ours and you can be too, if you wish. I''ll keep my word as long as you keep your fangs put away... Sincerely, Mr. C."


    During the earlier days of his recovery, Orison hadn''t received any visitors. In a futile attempt to protect whatever part of his identity they thought he''d managed to hide, Zora and Ignatius had stayed away. Closer to the end, Nicolas had stopped by once and they had made plans to hang out once he was released. The young mage could tell under the happy-go-lucky demeanor, the sculptor was deeply worried about his own future. Without Muriel, he had no patron and no studio.


    The day before his scheduled release, Orison received two more surprise visitors. Mrs. Derby and Ms. Messier, now Mrs. Carter, practically fell over themselves with tearful joy at his reappearance. Though there was genuine happiness at meeting him again, ''Mrs. Carter''s histrionics were somewhat fake. Being the wife of Jonathan, there was no way she wouldn''t be in the know and under some obligation to help keep things subdued and private. Despite that, her warm hug and misty eyed ''welcome back'' were real enough.


    After she had gotten herself under control again, Mrs Derby said, "I never gave up hope you''d be found one day. What dreadful circumstances!... When you first disappeared, I put up a reward for information but the feds made me take it back down. Instead, I threw some weight around and had your likeness posted at ever Darby''s location. Can you believe they replaced the ''e'' in my name with an ''a''? Outrageous!


    "Imagine my surprise when I got a call three weeks ago saying that someone who matched your description was seen coming in. Well, I was on my way here the next day! I nearly had a heart attack when I had people ask around and finally managed to track you down here with Rachel''s help. Why you just stumble around from one bad situation to the next! Makes an old woman worried to death!"


    Internally, Orison half sobbed, "So you''re the reason Mr. Carter knew who I was. The results of the meddling of overly kind people are scary."


    The young mage beamed brightly and was about to speak when Mrs. Carter said, "Just remember what I told you, Alice. He had been working for years on bringing down the human trafficking ring with the feds. That''s the kind of thing that could put him in a whole lot of danger if it was leaked."


    Mrs. Darby looked at her and said, "Thank goodness your husband has friends in government or who knows what kind of harm I could have caused."


    "Who knows, indeed," Orison thought blandly.


    After some time of fawning over him, Mrs. Darby informed him that the fast food restaurant patent was unsuccessfully challenged once. The only thing that saved it was how inclusive and advanced it was. Having it brought to her attention, however, she turned it back on the ones that had went after her and saw where they and a few other chains had emulated it without permission. After a heated round through courts, she found herself possessing varying degrees of profit shares with several other franchises.


    She was stupid rich. She also wasn''t that naive and even if a heart of gold beat in her chest, dollar signs danced in her eyes as well. She knew who was responsible for it all and genuinely wanted to share some of her gains with Orison but she wanted something in return. It was fairly simple. She wanted a more thorough patent model along with what amounted to a Standard of Operation Procedure.


    Orison was more than happy to agree. By the time that Mrs. Derby''s limo escorted him to her hotel the next morning, the young mage had given her a breakdown of a year by year additive model for the next decade and gave her enough of an SOP outline to keep her vested interests squirting cash into her accounts for the rest of her foreseeable life.


    Orison was about to protest right along with her two sons when she announced to her family her intent to split her liquid savings down the middle with the young mage. She shut them up by showing them the new patent model and how it would insure their futures long past her, throwing a simple but binding legal contract at Orison along with a water tight NDA. Afterwards, she celebrated by ordering up a banquet to their suite.


    Mrs. Derby may have been a gem of a human being but years of soft living had turned her two oldest children into different creatures altogether. To save himself from subtle harassment and nauseating boot licking, he stuck to her side. During the following hours of comfortable rides from place to place, getting all the little details squared away, Orison noted that the youngest son was a quiet, observant and respectful teen.


    When the teenager Henry approached him while the older brothers were off doing who knows what, a situation Mrs. Derby likely devised on purpose, the young mage wasn''t quite as ready to retreat back to Alice''s side. After fishing for common interests and exercising some clumsily executed psychology tricks to ingratiate himself, Henry started leading the conversation towards the future.


    Smiling, Orison said, "Are you a person who knows how to care for the little people who serve you loyally like your mom? Can you boldly cut off a pound of flesh to return a life changing favor like she''s doing?"


    Giving Orison a saccharine smile in return, Henry readily agreed with cold eyes.


    The young mage sighed. "You''re smarter than your brothers but you''re not better. The reason why I helped your mom and I choose to do so again was and is because she''s a good woman, not because I care about money. If you''re interested in becoming wealthy, throw your money into oil after a bad drop in the early seventies and pull it before 1980. Take the money you made and invest in the development of technology, especially as soon as there is an emergent home computer company sometime around the mid nineties or hell, do it yourself if you can find the brains necessary.


    "If you want to make a difference, take time and resources to invest in clean energy and medicine that actually cures disease instead of just treating them. There''s little money in that but a whole lot of good. If you do that, you can take comfort knowing that you may lose a fortune but you''ll help humanity survive a little longer."


    Looking thoughtful, Henry said, "What do you mean by clean energy?"


    Giving Henry a genuine smile, Orison sat down and explained.

 126 Crawling Chaos 24

    As day grew to evening, Rachel offered to take orison wherever he planned on going next.


    As soon as they were alone in her car, she said, "I won''t pry, Mr. Cantrip but you mean a great deal to Mrs. Derby and me. Do you know what you''re going to be doing next?"


    Orison thought and said, "Call me Orison, please. Well, Ms. Mess-er-Mrs. Carter, I''m going to check in with Neil. See how the guy''s doing. I figured I''d pick up an artist or two to patronize and after that I''m going to take a little break to evaluate how I can most wisely spend my time... If I disappear again, help Mrs. Darby with some wild story so she doesn''t get in a huff to find me again... I''d greatly appreciate it. She''s going to have her hands full with those kids of hers."


    She laughed in a subdued manner. "In that case, call me Rachel unless my husband and his friends are around... You''ve hit the nail on the head with that one, especially those oldest two. The were a little wild when they were young but they''ve gone plumb rotten since Alice''s had her hands full with business related matters. If her husband was still around I don''t think it''d be nearly as bad but you know how it goes."


    "Not really," Orison thought before he said, "Speaking of wild kids, how''s your daughter doing?"


    Rachel gripped the wheel a little tighter and replied with a fake air of ease, "Oh, she''s busy raising two of her own now. Getting along well enough."


    The young mage thought to himself, "If she wants to pretend everything is all peachy, far be it from me to borrow more trouble I don''t really care that much about."


    Eyes softening, Rachel said, "Of course, my little miracle girl''s nearly eight already. Her dad and older brothers spoil her rotten but mind you, I keep her in check. I fear she''s a little too sheltered but you couldn''t ask for a gentler or more well behaved angel. The polar opposite of my oldest really."


    In a low voice, Orison said, "Life has its sweet moments in between all the bitter.???


    With a mischievous smirk, Rachel said, "Speaking of sweet moments, I may not be able to do for you what Alice has but if you want to be introduced to some girls from good families..."


    The rest of the trip back to Neil''s place was filled with light hearted banter and some teasing by the older woman while Orison internally sweated and parried for his life. It quickly became obvious that Rachel may not have had some of the advantages that others had but she was quite the formidable socialite. It was a trait that had served her well, not only in her own private business ventures but carving out her own slice of a kingdom among the other, more established Mason society matrons.


    The detective swept his feet off the desk and set down the glass of whiskey in his hand almost guiltily. "My god, man. You look like you hardly aged a day. How is that fair in any way? Forget that. Where the hell have you been all these years!?"


    Orison replied blandly, "Stuck in a spacial crack. If it hadn''t been for Jimmy, I probably still would be."


    Neil stammered out a confused apology before Orison waved it away and caught the detective up to speed. The only thing he held back on was the events at the rock quarry. The young mage was all too uncomfortably aware whose payroll Neil had been on over the years and the last thing Orison needed was a loose end like the accidental murdering of young Masons hanging over his head. Unfavored faction or not, there would be a reckoning for that if he was linked to it.


    Neil digested and said, "So what kind of creature is Mr. Burns? If you freed him from some kind of magic seal, I doubt he''s normal."


    Orison said, "Old-school, stronger than me and my subordinate by circumstance only. Be respectful and he''ll return the favor. Anything more than that''s his business to share or not. I''d suggest not prying, though. It kinda ties in with the whole being respectful thing."


    The detective let out a long, self deprecating sigh. "Might sound conceited of me but after Jessica left, I just took it for granted that me and Zora would end up wiping each other''s wrinkled a**es one day. Who would have thought..."


    Confused, Orison said, "Who would have thought what? A lot can happen in a couple weeks. Why don''t you catch me up to speed.???


    Neil shrugged lazily. "I was released from the hospital a little over a week ago. I come back to find that Zora''s packed her things and is off on a honeymoon. With as much as she hates supes, who would have thought she''d up and marry one."


    Orison''s brows furrowed. "Ignatius Burns, if you''re free, we need to talk. If you''re, uh, in the middle of something, wrap it up as soon as you can."


    Contrary to his expectations, Ignatius didn''t appear before him, he appeared in a small palisade situated near a cozy oasis in the middle of a sunny but not unpleasantly hot desert. In front of him on an oversized golden throne sat Ignatius with very little affected humanity and even less clothes as Zora lounged across his lap being fed peeled grapes. For her part, Zora was significantly younger looking and a far cry from appearing the abducted woman Orison had feared she was.


    With a complex expression, the young mage said, "Everything''s good?"


    The goofy grin on Ignatius''s face and Zora''s light bickering around a smile of her own was all Orison cared to know. Despite that, he had to listen to a story of coercion for help turning into a surprisingly pleasant situation. Apparently, Zora''s prediction made her reach for Ignatius''s aid which came with the stipulation of marriage. Considering how much she felt she owed Orison and Neil, she agreed reluctantly thinking she''d probably die anyway.


    The young mage''s rampage defied her prediction, however. Instead of her having to pay some huge price to get Orison close enough to rescue Neil while Ignatius kept Muriel occupied, it had turned into a popcorn show they couldn''t get involved in without endangering themselves. What had seemed like quite a lengthy, drawn out and dangerous battle had been less than thirty seconds total from the time the young mage went hollow man.


    After looting the place, Ignatius and Zora kept an eye on things from a distance for a few days before the ifrit called her on the deal. Non-use of aid didn''t constitute a refund worthy event in the eyes of Ignatius. Initial reluctance and a bit of actual supernatural battle ended up turning into the intro to a fiery courtship and spicy honeymoon. If Zora hadn''t relented, it could have went a completely unwholesome direction but ultimately, she was a woman of her word. Ignatius was making sure she understood how grateful he was of her not turning ifrit style courtship into an ugly and painful affair by shamelessly pampering her.


    To facilitate his continued affectionate effort to turn Zora into a person incapable of feeding herself, Ignatius asked for a leave of absence he would measure against the end of his service period. Orison counter offered that he''d only call on Ignatius if he was in dire need and in return only wanted honest monthly tithing and later, rent. The ifrit hadn''t known Orison for long but had already gotten the gist that the young mage was a fiercely independent person who wasn''t overly interested in being coddled by a bodyguard so the ifrit let the matter drop.


    Before asking to be returned, Orison commented, "The air''s a lot cleaner and the feeling of abyssal oppression isn''t nearly as strong."


    Ignatius nodded. "The will of the plane will adjust to its owner if the owner''s will is strong enough to endure. Attempting to match the stubbornness of an ifrit is difficult enough, much less trying to overcome one. Take heed, wife."


    Zora responded, "If I am happy, continue to believe whatever you like. I can''t be bothered to teach truth to the unwilling."


    With Ignatius''s inflamed gaze hinting at what was to come, Orison quickly said, "Send me back."


    With zero attention paid beyond answering the request, Ignatius bent his attention to affectionate discipline as Orison gratefully reappeared in Neil''s office in a gust of desert wind.


    Glancing at Neil''s startled face, the young mage said, "I''m afraid Zora''s found herself a better deal than mutual a** wiping."


    After a small amount of gloomy but comfortable silence passed, Orison pointed at the whiskey bottle and said, "How are you balancing it right now?"


    Neil grimaced and said, "Three and three. No more than three a night and no more than three days in a row. I can even do it two out of three times before I fudge a little."


    Orison sighed but didn''t say anything else.


    With a bitter face, Neil said, "So, are you planning to step back in where you left off? Whip me back into shape? I''m not young anymore."


    Smiling weakly at the wall, Orison said, "Not if you don''t want me to. If you''re fine with the way things are or you''re just done with it, then I''m fine settling into a friendship with a mid-life, mild alcoholic slipping into decline. Hell, you don''t even have to see me again, if that''s what you want. I wouldn''t particularly blame you."


    Chuckling mirthlessly, Neil shot back, "These days I''d just about be willing to bend over and bite the pillow one good time if it meant having a reason to get up the next day. I don''t blame you for a damn thing wrong with my life... You kept your word and I had a good thing until I threw it away being stupid. I might have said and done some dumb things but time''s at least let me see just how dumb they were."


    A ghost of a smile flashed across Neil''s weary face. "I don''t even mind that you look me over a bit too long. At this age, I find it a little flattering."


    Still staring at the wall, Orison sported a lazy frown and all but mumbled, "Lay off it. I was trying to figure out just how far you let yourself go. I wasn''t interested in your hairy, nasty a** then and I sure as hell ain''t interested in your flat, hairy a** now."


    After a few more minutes of banter, the faint ghost of determination flared in Neil''s eyes as he said, "What the hell. Why not give it another go. I''m not going to wake up to an empty closet and a grass clipping milkshake tomorrow, am I?"


    Orison said, "I''m not that bored but we do have a road trip to take the day after tomorrow if I want to make you grass clipping milkshakes... Old rules, my old friend. But I''ll be nice this time and let you polish off that bottle before we clean out your liquor stash... That is, as long as I can help."


    Neil''s mouth hooked up into a smirk as he replied, "Deal."


    After banishing a light hangover the next day, Orison got the ball rolling on a nice property acquisition and checked in on Nicolas to make sure the bean pole wasn''t starving to death. Buying a luxury car, he tossed the keys to Neil and muttered about how he''d owed the man one. On the long drive up past Port Haven, the detective force fed his nine year sob story to the young mage.


    It was pretty easy to spot where things had went wrong. When Jessica''s brother passed away, he had been involved in a case and followed through with commitments to work instead of the one he had to his grieving wife. When Jessica lamented over their lack of children, Neil tried to up play the positives instead of looking into it with a doctor. When she came up pregnant but didn''t seem that happy about it, Neil had overlooked it all, knowing that she had been unfaithful.


    On the surface it may have seemed loving and supportive but in reality, he''d kind of stopped caring. Although the boy carried his last name and Jessica was still technically married to him, it was more a support system for his guilt towards his dead feelings for her. She wasn''t innocent in it all but she had been failed in many ways and accepted the guilt money with equally dead feelings.


    After that, he lost himself in work and after awhile lost his zeal for life. If Zora hadn''t been around, Neil admitted things might have gotten truly dark. Orison garnered the impression that the detective had garnered more than a little affection for her. His heart had just been too tired to fan it into something more substantial.


    When Neil flashed a picture in his wallet at Orison, the young mage was a little stunned. There was a definite and unavoidable presence of Asian features to the boy. Stifling his curiosity, the young mage was willing to leave it at that but Neil went on to say that he was certain who the boy''s real father was but it would have been a major scandal that could endanger hers and the boy''s life so it had to remain a secret.


    Pulling up on the border fracture that had imprisoned him for nine years, Orison was nervous. It wasn''t so much that he was afraid something would happen. He merely felt uncertain how his requests would be received and had no idea what it would cost him.


    Calling out mentally, the young mage waited patiently as the sun began setting on the horizon. As twilight closed in, a faint trill of danger was in the air. He wasn''t affected by it overly much but Neil was spooked and ready to bolt as soon as Orison said the word. To give the detective a little peace of mind, the young mage asked him to wait in the car as he walked off road into the distance a bit further.


    A baying of hounds preceded an invisible presence nudging his hand. With spirit sight, Orison saw the massive dog''s nub of a tail wiggling violently. Chuckling, Orison scratched behind Nibble''s ears until it was called away. The presence of the dog made Orison think of the jawbone made of five colored soil that had managed to be pushed to the edge of his space once more.


    On a whim, Orison locked it away under a magic seal as Herne appeared in his ten foot tall on horseback form. "What brings you to visit on a hunting eve, father-in-law? Do you have an itch to explore your primal roots?"


    Orison said thoughtfully, "If I had known that it was a possibility, I may have at that. Going hunting with family isn''t an unpleasant sounding idea. Maybe we can arrange something in the future once I can unbury my horse from the massive chunk of inert crystal I''ve buried everything under."


    Herne laughed boisterously. "An unexpected answer. I suppose it shouldn''t have been if there was need of it and it seems there is need."


    Orison sighed. "More for the bonding than the blood, Herne. I have other methods for taking care of my low essence issues."


    "If you are not here to hunt and you are not here to address your more visible needs. Why have you come?" Herne asked.


    Orison handed over the sealed jawbone of Nibbles. "That''s a start. It''s not my main purpose but running into Nibbles made me think about it. Maybe Flora can make use of it... If you''re about to be off on your business, I''ll cut to the point so as not to delay you. Would you consider that rude or too direct?"


    The hunter shook his head. "I prefer it. Were it not a hunting eve, I''d still prefer it. As absurd as it is, you are family and there is no rudeness in being candid between family."


    Orison nodded. "Very well. Since I''m temporarily unable to reach my...barrow, I''m in need of some healing herbs. I also have a question to ask. My first student is currently residing in my stag pin. Do you have any ideas or suggestions on a way I can get his body back or at least grant him a new one that''s close enough?"


    Herne examined the pin. A complex look that didn''t seem like it fit on the hunters face drifted across it before he searched Orison''s eyes for something.


    The hunter said, "I do know. Do you not or are you playing fool for me? Is it TRUELY coincidence that you come to me with this question?"


    Confused, Orison said, "Well, I can''t say it''s coincidence. You''re pretty knowledgeable about things related to life and death, right? Was it wrong in some way to come to you?"


    Herne looked at the pin with an almost pained expression. "Within my helm''s antlers lies a solution to your quandary. With it, you could repeat the process of how Flora was birthed and within a few years, your student should be strong enough to exist independently of you. I- I could grant my helmet to you but what debts remain between us will be paid and ties severed save what is volunteered in good faith. Do we have a bargain?"


    Orison was about to consent when he was interrupted by a storm of multiple fruit tree blossoms. "Do not agree father!"

 127 Crawling Chaos 25

    As the blossoms scattered, Flora came into view with a wrathful look that was just as unnatural appearing on her face as the one Hern had worn earlier.


    The garden maiden started off speaking harshly but her voice softened towards the end. "You would betray your nature!? The consequences of such a thing are a terrible unknown! It could harm you in ways that could follow you to the end of your days, beloved. Do not do this. Do not trick my father and do not harm yourself in such a way."


    Herne hung his head and covered his face from view with a large, calloused hand. Flora gently removed the pin from the nerveless fingers of the other hand before squeezing it once and turning to Orison.


    The garden maiden smiled affectionately at the distressed young mage and said, "You have done nothing wrong, father. You have simply called a debt that you did not know you were due. Even if you were to recall it now, honor demands it be answered. I ask that you forgive Herne with as much sincerity as you can for all of our sake. Would you do me this favor?"


    Orison said, "I, uh, sure... Whatever this is about, Herne, I don''t sense any malicious intent. There''s nothing to forgive because ''no harm, no foul'', right? Uh, don''t worry about it."


    With his back turned to them, Herne nodded over his shoulder silently and spurred his horse into a gallop. The air of late twilight turned menacing and was filled with the promise of fear, pain and death before it slowly faded as Herne drew further away.


    Flora reached out and laid her hand on Orison''s chest briefly as the black book of ritual magic was drawn out from him. "Whether you were aware or not, you were borrowing the power and authority of another to cast your rituals. Any more and you would be in their debt. As grateful as they were to you, that would not stop them from using you mercilessly. It is no longer safe for you to carry this, father."


    Orison thought about it. He had called on laws and even set a greater ritual for himself. It really did seem like he was getting far too much bang for his buck. He reasoned that if something was too good to be true, there were reasons for it. Knowing that the ''crone gift'' was empowering his workings actually cleared up some of his confusion from what he learned about ritual work.


    He thought back to the wards of Muriel. Her years of practice and experience were producing effects roughly a third of what his casual efforts provided. It made him wonder just how powerful the old woman who gave him the book was and what she might have asked of him had he kept using the book unknowingly. The possibilities were staggering and terrifying.


    Orison said playfully, "Well, you were partially made from the first gift and now the other two are in your hands. Will I be seeing them again?"


    Orison bit his lip hard to keep from instantly agreeing and forced out with narrowed eyes, "The pin has my student in it, daughter. I have to save him before I can give it to you. You do deserve something for my neglect, my fault or not. But I can''t-"


    Flora giggled and said, "I tease, father. In truth, I need the pin and the book but my words to you were not false. If you will grant them to me, I will do all I can to return your student to you. Will you trust me with this task?"


    The young mage thought back and could only find reason to put his faith in her. "I do, Flora. I trust you as much as I''ve trusted anyone."


    The garden maiden hugged Orison and kissed his cheek. "You don''t disappoint me, father, so I will not disappoint you."


    Stepping back, she looked into the young mage''s eyes and said, "It is not that you cannot reach your barrow. It is a part of you, father... The reasons are due to its changing. Like you, it is ''becoming''. When it is done, you will understand. That''s not just for your barrow, it''s for you as well."


    Somewhat embarrassed, Orison said, "I actually have another small favor to ask but..."


    Flora smiled brightly and said, "Say no more. In your car, the ones wrapped in wicker are for you. The ones wrapped in ivy are for my five siblings. Don''t be in a hurry to have a larger family, father, or you''re going to overtax yourself."


    Orison asked, "Why do you consider the five sprites your siblings but not the others?"


    He became a little irritated when Flora shot him a pitying look. "The truest parent of the elementals are the force they are a part of. I will not deign to respond about the horse... The reason why I consider the five FAIRIES as my siblings is simple. You did not make them, they were conceived. As father, you invested yourself. The ''mother'' land keeps them and the nurturing between you and the barrow allows them to grow. Most importantly, you left them to be defined by nature and self instead of being strictly defined by you as a summon is.


    "I looked in on you while you were hospitalized and you seem to be completely unaware, so allow your daughter to help you understand. Since you were pulled from the crack, an absurd amount of potential in resources and essence has been poured into you and yet your growth is abysmally small. Why do you think that is?"


    Flora laughed and finished, "Your children have been eating you out of house and home! This is good from the prospective of a responsible parent. You have provided for them well despite almost having killed them... twice. They love you and they hope that you will respond to those feelings.


    "Understand one thing more. They are still merely conceived and not truly born yet as I am. Disregard mortal notions to further your understanding. You, to them are father and the barrow is their mother. Since it doesn''t possess its own spirit, that makes you indirectly their mother as well but leave behind the concepts of man and woman when dealing with our kind, father.


    "We are born of the formless forces of life and take the form that best suits us. It is not until then that such things have any meaning. As they define themselves, be tolerant and try to not judge their actions and desires through the lens of mortal morality as best you can. Otherwise, they may test your tolerance beyond bearing."


    As if to illustrate, Flora surprised the young mage by kissing him boldly and in a complete defiance of the relationship definitions between them.


    Having only just adjusted to the idea of seeing Flora as his daughter, her actions threw him for a loop. It also felt wrong because it defied his expectations too much.


    This time she smiled sadly as she said, "Now you understand some of what I mean. Those newly formed from the formless forces do not owe any particular allegiance to ANY notion, save what they give themselves or are forced to accept by others. If I believed you could accept me as daughter AND as lover, I would never have left your side but for you, those two things are clearly divided.


    "From the perspective of mortal understanding that is only right and just. Even I can see where the blurring of such lines can lead to terrible and harmful things but my feelings are the wild heart of the maiden and I may feel as I wish. Because I love you, I do not force upon you what you cannot accept. I also crave your affection as a father more. Over the past nine years, Herne has captured my heart as well and I am more certain of my feelings as a lover for him now, regardless."


    True to her maiden nature, having said all that she had desired, she disappeared without a second wasted. The young mage looked out into the deepening dark where she had gone. He stayed that way until the scent of fruit blossoms faded from the air.


    As he walked to the car, he shook his head and thought out loud. "Don''t be so quick to judge, daughter. Many children blur the line between a child''s affection for their parents and early understandings of romantic love. It''s a parent''s duty to draw the line, out of love AND for the future happiness of their child. A father who would take advantage of his daughter''s pure feelings to satisfy such a dark desire is no father at all. He''s a monster."


    With plans to overnight in Port Haven, Neil and Orison were perfectly fine letting the time pass in silence. They both had a lot on their minds. The most prevalent in Orison''s was just how scary being the father of a wild girl was and a somewhat ungenerous hope that all of his remaining ''children'' were boys.


    Once they were settled into a hotel, the nicest one, Orison went to his room of the two room suite and looked through all his new goodies. What he saw through their ''fairy magic'' seals, spooked him and made him paranoid. The young mage hadn''t been overly certain what Herne had been up to the past nine years but the hunter had most definitely taken down some outsiders. The chrism fed plants with a plethora of effects gave evidence to that fact.


    With as much care as he could, Orison swiftly placed them all in his space aside from the small amount from his own he planned on using immediately. To his dismay, the entirety of the ones for his five sprites sped into the dark distance towards the center of his space and he wasn''t strong enough to follow. If it wasn''t for the unified cry of jubilation that came from his summons, just strong enough for it to reach him, he would have been concerned about the fate of all the goodies.


    The subsequent disgruntled cry made Orison chuckle. Apparently, there was quite a bit of crystal separating them from their presents. He wasn''t sure if they could ''hear'' him or not but he suggested that they enlist the help of the elementals with a promise to share a little loot.


    After a check to make sure he could reach what he needed, the young mage made a triple time, effort and will invested circle. The end result barely halved inert essence pressure but that was well enough to do some serious alchemy assuming he was careful. The difference in ritual casting with the book and without it was so severe it almost made the study of ritual magic seem like a waste of time. He had tasted what it was capable of if one did log the time and effort, however, and that kept him motivated to return to serious study in the near future.


    Once he was done, Orison realized he was quite tired. Despite how fine he seemed, the young mage was still in a recovery period that would take a long time. He had some hope in the form of some new medicine but with how much inert essence he''d taken in, he had no idea how effective any of it would be. Knowing that there was only one way to find out, he took the first set and slipped into trance.


    Two hours before dawn the young mage awoke to a muffled ruckus coming from the shared lounging space of the suite. Peeking out, he saw that Neil was being pinned to the floor by a black clothed figure that seemed vaguely familiar. Before he had a chance to call out, the figure sprayed some kind of aerosol under the detective''s nose, knocking him out cold.


    Reaching for his dagger and taking a defensive stance, Orison said, "One wrong move and you''re a dead person."


    The figure whipped their head around and tensed. One second went by and then two more as the person slowly reached towards their face cover and removed it. The woman was far more mature than she had once been but he recognized her in a heartbeat.


    Orison said, "Please tell me that Neil''s alright."


    With one open hand on display, Ying Yue bent down to check his pulse and said, "He''s perfectly fine. I was a little worried that the concentration would make his heart erratic since Detective Jones hasn''t lived the healthiest lifestyle but everything''s as it should be."


    Still not letting his guard down, Orison said, "Any particular reason why you''re drugging mundanes? You could have just knocked on the door."


    Sighing in exasperation, she said, "I''m not supposed to be here. I just want to drop in and say hi if it was really you but this man had some kind of waking charm on him. There wasn''t any real time to explain myself when he has a gun and was about to use it."


    Orison intoned, "I invoke the sacred act of guest rights...eat a bite out of the fruit basket or something."


    She chuckled and took a bite out of an apple before spitting it out in disgust. "It''s a waxed fruit. Ugh, it wasn''t well dusted either."


    Orison sheathed his dagger and said, "Good enough."


    Ultimately, she didn''t have anything important to say. She really had just dropped by to say hi and that East Village had changed quite a bit since he''d last been. The Tong was still pretty intolerant but to keep from being completely dusted by the other two major groups in town, they had relaxed entry to those with even a touch of homeland descent. It was possible to become a member if you were married to one in good standing as well but that seemed to only apply to women who had married in. It seemed that there were quite a few more men than women.


    She added, "I know your last run in was... unpleasant but since you have the blood of dragons, the tong would consider you of our descent. Unless you have already chosen another allegiance, that is."


    Orison said, "At this point, if I was to choose anyone it would be The Collective."


    Yue smiled, "All the tongs across this country are affiliates of the collective. We ARE a heritage society after all. One of the larger ones but still far from able to stand against the likes of groups like the Masons (Illuminati these days from what I hear) or the Knights Templar nationally or globally. In the few instances where someone would ask what society you are a part of and you answered the collective. That would be like someone asking what country you''re from and answering the United Nations."


    Orison rubbed his head to relieve a phantom tension headache. "So even after choosing the collective, I''d still have to find a round hole to fit my square peg into?"


    Placing a hand on her chest, Yue faked looking scandalized. "Mr. Cantrip, I am a married woman!"


    Letting out a dull, monotone laugh, he replied, "Well, for now I''m living in New Yorkshire. It doesn''t sound that useful to the tong or myself."


    Putting a hand to the side of her mouth conspiratorially, she whispered, "Our gate makes us more important but our public presence on the east coast is in New Yorkshire." Taking a more conversational stance and tone, she added, "Old Asia Town is currently split down the middle, though. The Abe clan have completely taken Sunset Park as their own private playground. They''ve even bribed the governor to rename it Sunrise Park! Flushing is completely loyal to us."


    Orison waved his hands in surrender and said, "You''ve lost me. New Yorkshire is huge. I only really know a bit about The Village and downtown Manhattansville. Yue shrugged her shoulders and said, "You only need to really know about Flushing in Queensbury. You like Third Uncle, right? He runs Flushing now. Just thought you should know, he tried really hard to get the tong to help search for you but West Gate kept him shut down until Mr. Long died last year. No offense, but by then it seemed kind of pointless."


    The young mage asked, "This Abe Clan, are they affiliates of the collective as well? If so, how does the collective deal with an issue between two heritage groups in its fold?"


    Yue looked thoughtful. "In theory, the American group would be considered a part of the collective but they''re actually very close with a couple of the Mason''s current leadership. Mr. Carter is among that number. I know this doesn''t really answer your second question but the collective doesn''t actually police itself that much unless some dispute draws the attention of one of the larger societies...


    "At the heart of the collective is a secret among secrets but there''s whispers about the concepts of controlled chaos. If the Masons can be considered corporate politicians of the secret societies, the Knights Templar could be considered its religious politicians. Both are two sides of the same conservative coin in most views. The collective is an ''anti'' establishment filled with contradictions that somehow work. "Most of the time they present themselves as peaceful liberals but if they are poked one too many times, a swift and fearful act of terrorism committed by ghosts is usually the answer. I mean, they''re not literally ghosts but untraceable. Once in a great while, those acts are tagged with a coiling dragon, a butterfly or both."


    Yue spent some time chatting with Orison and even brought up the ''your mother'' routine for old times sake but once Neil was about to wake up, she was ready to leave.


    Before she took a dive out the window, she said, "Your friends with a guy named Jimmy right? I remember seeing him at our first vigil held for you... Smiley''s people worked him over pretty badly a few days ago. He''s not in critical danger but he is in traction. With no one at home to take care of him, he hasn''t had much option but to stay at the hospital. I imagine that bill is starting to look pretty scary to him."

 128 Crawling Chaos 26

    Orison once again found himself staring where someone had disappeared, working through charged feelings. It was a habit he planned on breaking. He planned on breaking the habit right after he was done breaking Smiley until they had to change his nickname to Jigsaw. Unfortunately, he wasn''t nearly recovered enough to get into a knock down, drag out with a group that might have gifted in it.


    Slowly coming to, Neil drawled out, "You alright, Sonny?"


    The young mage walk around so he was in front of Neil and said, "Who the hell is Sonny?"


    Neil smiled bitterly. "You are. I figured I''d give it a shot. Try it on for size. What do you think?"


    Orison shrugged. "A little too gangster for my tastes but whatever floats your boat. If you can make it catch on, I''ll answer to it."


    The detective staggered his way over to a couch and plopped himself into it. "Well, I''m not going back to bed. What''s that clock say, a little after five?"


    Orison glanced over and replied, "Jokes about how clocks can''t talk aside, you''ve got the hands mixed up. It''s twenty after three... While we''re at it and before you ask me to make you coffee, it''s the million dollar question time. Do you just want to get better, be at the top of your game for a few more years, or are you ready to step into the great and dangerous unknown?"


    Neil tried to focus on the young mage with slightly dizzy eyes as he said, "Mind making things a little more clear for the man who just got gassed by a cat burglar? Do you think you could make me one of those nifty little spray cans of lights out juice, by the way?"


    Snorting, Orison said, "Only you would be itching to get your hands on something like that right after it was used on you... No, I don''t think I can personally make one but I might be able to find something like it. I''ll keep it in mind.


    "As for making things more clear... Do you want to be juiced up to, lets say, like being in your late twenties and best shape of your life or do you want to take a gamble at becoming gifted? You''d be throwing the rest of your train wreck life in the toilet for a whole new set of problems that are probably harder to deal with... They''d be more interesting problems, at least."


    After apologizing about the occupational hazards of his job, Neil proceeded to burn an hour asking questions about every facet of what it meant to choose either and what it was Orison wanted from him in return. During the Q\u0026A, the detective shared some info of his own. The time before his run in with Muriel, Neil had taken some injuries from a creature not too unlike the ''boogeyman Orison had killed when he first came to this world. It was the effects of the young mage''s previous round of medicinal investment in Neil that had allowed the man to move on from the incident without much change in life quality.


    Staring at the two wrapped ''malted milk balls'' and small bottle of ''grass juice'', Neil said, "How bad of a time am I looking at?"


    Orison shrugged. "How would I know what you''ve been eating the last nine years? Considering that it''s only been a third of the life lived that the first time cleared out of you, I''d say less sketchy roadside vendor and more cheap cafeteria. You know the drill... Drink and take the first one. Sleep and after you wake up, take the second. After that, it''s stay on standby to nearest bathroom."


    "Why do you have them wrapped in tin foil? They weren''t like that last time," Neil observed.


    Repressing irritation, Orison said, "It''s actually two sheets of aluminum foil and a sheet of carbon paper between. That''s because my magic seals are crappy right now and they make up the difference in keeping dead air from sucking the good stuff out... Lucky you, the you''re body''s riddled with bits of it so the good stuff will stick to that, letting you absorb more."


    Neil looked at Orison and said, "So that''s what Jonathan meant when he talked about awakening after a trial by fire. I should have awakened if I was going to by now, shouldn''t I?"


    Irritation slipping the leash a touch, Orison said, "For gawd''s sake Neil! Take the damn medicine if you''re going to!... No. No, you wouldn''t because your life force is too low. That method only really works for young people. You should feel thankful that it wasn''t that serious or we wouldn''t be talking right now. You''d be dead."


    Neil grumbled. "Bite a man''s head off for asking a few questions why don''t you."


    "It''s after five! We started this at 3:30!" the young mage exclaimed in exasperation.


    Sharing a few more quips, Neil finally took the medicine and laid down. Orison took the opportunity to get some more trance time in as well. Coming back to at a little after seven, all was as it should be. With Neil down for the count another couple of hours before a bubbling gut would be waking him up, Orison decided to go check on Jimmy.


    A little over a half hour later, the young mage saw Smiley''s handiwork and barely contained himself. He worked through a round of meditation to get himself under control while he waited for the last dosage of painkillers to wear off. Almost like clockwork, just shy of his 8:00 medication round, Jimmy stirred awake.


    Nearly completely covered in bandages and casts, the man couldn''t communicate or move. A jaw fracture even had his mouth wired shut and required he be on a liquid diet. It wasn''t so much that he was lucky to be alive, the lengths necessary to insure that Jimmy would be as full a recovery as possible were the real culprit. In spirit sight, Orison could see that none of the measures taken for Jimmy''s convalescence were particularly overboard either.


    If left to his own accord, the young man would only have a few small surface scars from bone pins, a slightly crooked nose and a couple of irregularly spaced teeth. Jimmy''s grill wasn''t a dentist''s joy to behold in the first place but the mended bone would cause him some severe discomfort in old age and probably lead to early arthritis.


    When the young man noticed Orison, there was a spark of emotional intensity ignited in his dull, painkiller addled eyes. Using a ''one slow blink for yes'' and ''two quick blinks for no'' method, the young mage managed to get the gist of the story. Jimmy saw a girl in distress only to find out too late that it was one of Smiley''s ''working girls'' who had washed out of the club. She was in the hospital as well but for other kinds of treatment that Orison was too afraid of his own temper to ask about.


    When the nurse came, Orison helped Jimmy communicate refusal of opioids and acceptance of homeopathic treatment. A doctor came to loudly protest but once Orison started flashing some cash, those protests died. It wasn''t that the doctor was willing but that medical records conveyed a message from a higher up.


    Once Orison had him moved to a private room, he flashed a little light healing, unable to do much more in his own still fairly delicate state. "Call out your familiar for me, Jimmy. I could use his help getting out the wires and pins."


    Jimmy''s eyes that were misty from discomfort, suddenly spilled over into silent tears. With a little more blink session, the young mage found out that Jimmy thought his familiar was dead. It belatedly occurred to him that he hadn''t really explained it well and it had been too short a period of time for Jimmy''s familiar to have grown strong enough to re-summon itself from Jimmy''s spiritual seat. It still spoke volumes of how badly the beating had been that even his familiar had lost its form, likely taking organ and spine blows for the young man considering how little damage had been done to them.


    Orison sacked a touch of life essence to the air around him to draw out a nonspecific summoning model and instructed Jimmy to direct his will into it. It took two tries before Jimmy succeeded. Despite not being quite a month old it had managed to pleasantly surprise Orison with its progress. The familiar could hover in the air on temporary hummingbird wings and had mastered communication just barely enough to introduce itself as Jammers, along with a few simple responses.


    With a helper, the young mage made quick work of the impediments that would have turned his medicine into a painful ordeal. Along with a proper longevity medicine that Neil hadn''t ended up needing, Jimmy would almost be ready to be removed from his casts in a couple more hours of absorption and rest.


    Not wanting to borrow a cup of trouble when he already had a bowl full, the young mage still couldn''t help but check in on the woman. Using the mind trick he had gotten much better at after having been subjected to a much more refined version from the ''forgettable guy'' that tried to hypnotize him, Orison slipped in and out unseen. Though it wasn''t much, he ''cleaned'' and applied a light touch of healing where it matter most to her with an exercise of power he could ill afford but his conscience stung after seeing the dried track of tears on her sleeping face.


    The psychically enhanced ''Be strong. You''re worthy of happiness.'' was all for her but the the following suggestion to the rotten man who sat napping by her side to keep her quite was all for himself. "The next time you see Smiley, I want you to pull your shirt off and carve a spiral into your chest. Once you''re done doing that, tell him that the butterfly has already flapped its wings and cut your own throat... Make sure to aim your blood at him."


    Obstructing free will and continued life to such a direct degree had earned the mage a little more filth in his lattice work but his target was so vile that the addition was barely perceivable. Still, it was comforting knowing that two wrongs didn''t make a right in the eyes of greater existence or whatever force was behind the collection and dispersal of corruption. With many lives to live, it was all too possible for a soul to find itself in one where it required redemption to avoid damnation.


    What the young mage had done, likely robbed the man at a chance for his. That was a fate slightly worse than having his soul stripped bare. If Orison had devoured it, at least the core would be free of its past but what awaited a man with such a dark and heavy soul was likely quite unpleasant. As a soul eater himself, Orison knew that such a soul was preferred by those who could because they left very little undigestible parts behind and for a person like that, to be devoured would be a mercy in comparison... He didn''t want it.


    It took nearly the remainder of the day before Neil and Orison found themselves removing Jimmy''s casts at the detective''s office in New Yorkshire after a hospice van dropped the young man off. The ex-greaser didn''t have many prospects left in Port Haven after the garage he was working at let him go for fear of reprisal from Smiley. For the time being, Orison planned on keeping him as general staff until other employment could be found.


    The young mage still thought that Jimmy was a bad fit for the supernatural community and hoped he could detach the young man in some kind of stable situation before it was too late. If some incident came to pass, Orison resolved to make it up as best he could. It wasn''t only pity or misplaced compassion. He genuinely believed that Jimmy had a shot at the ''good ending'' and getting wrapped up in secret society business or even worse, becoming a climber, would ruin that.


    Over the next few days, a great deal of money was divvied at the bank for the purpose of acquiring an appropriately grand estate and Muriel''s old studio so the lives of the innocent people associated with her death weren''t overly affected. While those proceedings percolated, Orison made his choice between the two potential recruits he had considered from his time strolling around The Village.


    It had been a tough choice on who to approach first but the first woman he''d ever considered adding to his roster was eliminated by the simple fact that she''d found a special friend while he was casing his choices. They seemed like they were enjoying each other''s company quite a bit and Orison tried to think long game with his decisions. Romantic attachments weren''t that big of a deal breaker but it limited availability and increased potential guilt if something was to happen to them. If his second string pick didn''t pan out, he planned on returning to her.


    His second best didn''t have such luck in the love or even the life department. Zeke Emerson was a second transcontinental war veteran and recently unemployed member of the Wackenut Security Firm and he had the ''badges'' to show for it. He was a healthy and capable man but was riddled with shrapnel pocks across the chest and lower jaw. A bit of spinal damage caused some nerve issues with his right leg. Combined with the bullet wounds to his left side and thigh, it gave him a bit of an awkward hitch to his gate.


    All in all, the man was scary for all the wrong reasons and a few right ones. If it had just been his looks and slightly odd walk, Zeke wouldn''t have had that hard of a time because there were plenty of friendly folks in The Village community. His biggest social barrier was a violent episode from a couple years prior when he was still dealing with a little post-war/security detail anxiety issue. It didn''t help that the company he used to work for was notorious for ending protests and breaking up attempts to form unions with means both fair and foul.


    The sad part was Zeke ultimately left his employment for those and similar reasons, even though he was making good money as a trainer. If it hadn''t been for the aunt he had taken care of until her passing a few months previous, the man would have left for other parts but settling affairs had been long and drawn out. Barely ambivalent tolerance aside, Zeke''s only vice was caffeine in all its wondrous forms and had an uncharacteristic enjoyment of the offbeat poetry/music from a couple of performer groups that played in a shop near his aunt''s house.


    Why he stood out so vividly to Orison was Zeke''s fair resemblance to Claudius. He had the same tired but still good natured soldierly disposition and subtle threat that was hard to shake others subconsciously responding to, especially when he went out of his way to stay in shape and keep old skills from getting too rusty. He also had a similar straightforward and easygoing manner but some of that seemed a bit forced. The young mage gave him a great deal of slack for the effort.


    Unlike Claudius, Zeke wasn''t uncomfortable with the loneliness, he just wanted more. He also didn''t have nearly as large a self-esteem issue, just a few more personal demons he wrestled with. Once again, Orison cut the man some slack. Too many people don''t even try, much less reach a point where they can see the other side of the struggle like Zeke had.


    The young mage had planned on watching him another day or so before approaching but Zeke had caught on to him and the situation would have only gotten awkward with time and stalking. "I hope you remember me so this doesn''t sound too weird but are you still having trouble liquidating your aunt''s grocery store and house. I find myself in a position to help if you want it."


    Due to the pock scars, Zeke''s bitter smile came across as an evil leer. "My aunt''s brother and son have them tied up in court now. I''m done with it. If either of them gave a damn about her or her employees, I would have handed it over a long time ago. Now that they forced the doors closed, I couldn''t care less."


    Orison said casually, "Ah, the trouble was finding a buyer that would keep the staff?... Sucks that it didn''t end up well but at least you bought them some time to prepare for it."


    A genuine smile almost managed to show through the lie of an evil leer. "I let em sack the place like it was on fire. Just wait until my uncle''s ugly mug checks the place next week to find all the deli equipment gone. I''ll deny I left the dock door unlocked on purpose if anyone asks."


    Orison snorted. "Please, if it had been me, the place really would have been on fire. Assuming I could do it without endangering nearby buildings, of course."


    Zeke said, "Let''s just say my cousin better not try to break into the house again before I move out. There''s some pretty old electrical wiring in there."


    Curbing his laughter to a less attention grabbing chuckle, Orison said, "So what''s the plan now?"


    Zeke gave him a mile long stare and Orison realized he might have gotten a little too personal too quickly for a man who was used to privacy. "If you feel like sharing... I''m not trying to pry."


    The ex-mercenary rotated his coffee cup as he shifted to staring off into the distance. "Yes you are but I don''t mind that much. What I''m curious about is why you want to know."

 129 Crawling Chaos 27

    "Alright, I really do want to know but it''s not for any bad reasons," Orison said.


    He would have continued explaining but Zeke was a little quicker to fill the split second of silence. "I sure hope not. It''s hard to ignore the possibility considering my situation, though. A little over three weeks ago, we chat like we''ve been friends for years. A little surreal but it was fun. Then nothing. Now that things have reached a head with my family on this inheritance nightmare, I notice you casing me yesterday. If I hadn''t let you know I noticed, how long were you going to do it before you came up to me?"


    Surprised, Orison wasn''t a bit annoyed. He felt like he''d really found a gem.


    The young mage smiled and said, "I didn''t think I was that bad at it. Before I get into the reason why, can you at least say how much longer you plan on sticking around. It''s kind of pointless if you''re going to be taking off any day now."


    Zeke shrugged. "As it stands right now, I''m waiting on a five year savings to mature in a few more months. It''s not like I have any special place to be but getting froze out''s starting to get to me. I thought I might find a place where I can fit in a little easier and start trying to live again, you know?"


    Orison nodded and whipped out an NDA. It was a sloppy copy of the one he''d signed for Mrs. Derby but it was pretty much just a prop to set the mood anyway.


    Looking at Zeke a little sheepishly, he said, "It''s weird as hell to do it like this but at least this lets you know I have a serious proposition for you. You''re already suspicious of me so I don''t fancy my chances of getting you to follow me anywhere less public unless I give you some kind of reassurance."


    The ex-mercenary stared at the document blankly and said, "Having me sign a non-disclosure agreement is to reassure ME?"


    The young mage nodded. "Originally, I thought it''d be awkward to suddenly invite you to talk someplace more private. I didn''t want you wigging out, thinking I was hitting on you or something. Now, I guess it can let you know that I''m wanting to trust you to see some sensitive information that I hope you''ll keep to yourself without having to get too wordy about it. It''s not like I believe an NDA is some kind of magical protection but it does strongly state an intent."


    Zeke''s face was unreadable and even the ''teaser'' suit''s poorly copied version of the stag pin''s ability wasn''t helping much. The young mage wondered if the ex-mercenary was actually a little gifted already or a person who had received some kind of rare training. After all, there were ways a mundane could develop a resistance to psychic intrusion and predation.


    Orison sighed. "Bare fact is, I need you as window dressing. At base level, you''d be some visuals to deter more timid sources of headaches. The more involved you feel comfortable with being, the more I have to offer but there won''t be a push for it outside of discussions of what I''m willing to offer for what I want from you. Is that a fair start?"


    Zeke looked a little sad but interested as he slowly nodded once and signed the document. "In the end, it comes down to a guard gig again. Well, I''ve been bored lately. I''ll hear you out but no promises."


    After walking two city blocks, Orison pulled out the keys to a small, red coup convertible.


    One look at the car and then at Zeke, he offered the keys and said sheepishly, "You, uh, want to drive?"


    The ex-mercenary chuckled. "Didn''t think that through very well, huh? Yeah, I should be able to fit behind the wheel after a few adjustments."


    A few minutes later, Zeke had managed to cram himself into the driver''s seat. Despite efforts to the contrary Orison let a couple of inappropriate chuckles slip past.


    Zeke stopped Orison mid apology and said, "If I were you, I''d be laughing too. I just hope you don''t plan on having me chauffeur you around in this matchbox often."


    Orison said, "Absolutely not! I''m helping a friend open a garage and used car lot. It was either this or a motorcycle and I hate motorcycles. I never really think about having a car til I need one and then I usually borrow Neil''s, another friend''s, old junker."


    Zeke gave Orison a dubious look. "I don''t want to make any assumptions here but guard work isn''t cheap."


    Orison laughed. "Drive us to the bank, Mr. Jeeves."


    The ex-mercenary shrugged and got them on the road. "Who the hell is Mr. Jeeves?"


    The young mage said. "Sorry. It''s just a cliche butler name..."


    Once they''d reached the bank, Orison set up a 5,000 dollar account and handed it over to the stunned man and said, "This is your safety net. Any time you feel like bailing or sh*t gets heavy and you need some money fast, you don''t have to come to me."


    Confused, Zeke said, "Is this a year up front or my per diem account? I haven''t agreed to work for you yet."


    Orison said. "I''m not really looking for an employee, Zeke. I''m looking to take in a partner, a nominal equal that becomes more actual with the building of trust and faith in ability. At the end of the day, I might be kinda in charge but that''s because I have things to do. Depending on what it is you need done, you might be in charge.


    "That might seem confusing but you''ll understand eventually if you decide to stick around. I know money''s important but only so far. There are more important and valuable things a person can offer another. If you want to couch it as employer and employee because that''s what you''re comfortable with, that''s fine. With time, I hope you''ll at least consider being friends once you know what''s going on."


    Zeke said, "I don''t even know where to start with how off the books everything is but... You don''t think it''s weird trying to befriend your bodyguard, much less one that''s nearly twice your age?"


    Orison shook his head and said, "I always thought it was stranger to entrust your well being to someone else and only be willing to offer money for it. I mean, I guess that''s more convenient for the bodyguard... Just to be clear, I don''t expect you to risk your life for me. I''m more concerned about people like my friends and I''d appreciate you keeping an eye on things. First and foremost, worry about your own safety and as long as I feel like you''re reasonably doing what you can, that''s good enough."


    Conversation died on their way back to Orison''s new house.


    When they weren''t too far away, Zeke said, "Mind prepping me for what I''m in for?"


    Orison laughed. "You''re in for a messy house I''m in the process of filling with junk... I was planning on observing you for a couple more days but it would have been weird to keep up distance after I''d been busted. Instead, just make yourself at home and you can observe for a couple of days. No part of the house is off limits or anything but you might want to stay away from the pool house at midday if nudity bothers you. An old friend of mine told me her husband said sun bathing can help me recover."


    Zeke glanced at Orison and said, "Recover from what? You look pretty healthy to me."


    The young mage said, "Then there''s a good place to start. I was one of the people recovered from Muriel''s basement. I was hospitalized for three weeks. I wasn''t one of the victims, though. I was the one who killed her."


    Zeke pulled over the car. "Why."


    Orison said, "Because she was the one who was holding all those people. Her husband was a high ranking Mason. Do you really want to hear more? I''ll tell you."


    The ex-mercenary threw his hands up and said, "No, no, no! That still doesn''t explain why you say YOU killed her. No offense, I of all people know looks can be deceiving but you don''t strike me as the vigilante type."


    The young mage said, "I''m not. I was trying to find Neil. If she hadn''t stolen something important from me, I probably would have taken an entirely different approach. Look, I don''t want to scare you off by throwing too much crazy at you all at once. You seem like the ''seeing is believing'' type and I''m giving you permission to be as snooping as you want."


    Zeke quickly added, "And I appreciate that. I do. But if you''re in trouble with Masons, you don''t need a bodyguard, you need witness protection. I know a couple people-"


    Orison interjected, "I''m alright. Mr. Carter''s wife is the old friend I was talking about. I have a truce with them. The cover-up was just to avoid embarrassment. It doesn''t change the fact that I''m vulnerable right now because I took in... Let''s call it a lot of ''bad juju''. It''s a little culturally insensitive but that''s what Neil would call it and, as far as labels work, it''s close enough."


    Getting the car back on the road, Zeke said, "That wouldn''t mean much to someone else but when I left the service, I hired on to Wackenut and spent a good deal of time in Africa plus a few other locations I had to sign NDAs for that make yours look pitiful. I just got one question on that and I''ll get to ''observing'' instead of squeezing out more I''d just want to see to believe anyway. How much of you turned gray?... If you don''t know what I''m talking about, don''t worry about it."


    Orison said, "If I didn''t have it contained, I could push its effects all to the surface and look fully gray even now. Even if I laid down and gave up I could live for a few more years before I''d die from organ failure, though... No offense, but you''re a lot better informed than I''d thought you''d be."


    Zeke didn''t answer the obvious but unasked question as they pulled into the drive of a gated house with an expansive yard. It was situated on the outlying border of the northern suburbs and sported a generous young orchard with a small greenhouse vineyard among its other features. It''s purchase and furnishing nearly cost a fifth of Mrs. Derby''s payment to him but Orison wanted it as soon as he saw it. The main reason was the small leyline node under the property that only a person with strong spiritual sensitivity could have noted.


    The ex-mercenary muttered, "No wonder you could throw five grand like it didn''t matter."


    Orison shot, "I could throw it all BUT five grand like it didn''t matter if there was a reason to. Don''t get me wrong. I like my creature comforts but money wouldn''t be that hard to get more of if I was in good condition."


    Zeke said, "How long do you need?"


    "With a little luck and quiet down time, a couple of months would see me functional, I think. My best guess for full recovery would be more like six months to a year as an educational guess with some room for error," Orison offered.


    The ex-mercenary followed Orison into the house as he said, "From what I understand of the ''gray waste'', that''s how long a person receiving treatment could hope to live, much less recover."


    Orison smiled. "You are well informed... But, it looks like your superiors managed to keep you fairly well in the dark about some important things too."


    By the time that he had showed Zeke around and shared some key information about services that had been contracted instead of hiring people for, Neil had stopped by to get his next couple of days worth of ''grass shakes and mud balls''.


    "You know you could grab a room and stay here, Neil," Orison offered.


    Neil snorted. "No chance, kid. Whose bird feeder I''m taking care of will remain a mystery to you this time."


    Leering, Orison added, "Do you need a little extra medicine so you can lift the old seed sack enough times to fill them? You said it yourself. You''re not young anymore."


    In mock anger, Neil said, "F*** off!... Who''s this guy?"


    Orison introduced them and let them chat it out for awhile, content to let Zeke''s inclusion into their circle be as natural as possible. That turned out to be a bit of a small miscalculation. Having a lot in common, the two hit it off better than Orison originally thought they would at the start and he found himself feeling like he did around Zora and Ignatius.


    Being saved from wallflower status by Jimmy almost an hour later, Orison made another introduction. Surprisingly, Zeke wrapped up his conversation with Neil and switched targets. It seemed he''d misunderstood something. The friendly banter was just a way for the two to feel each other out and probe for information.


    Neil wasn''t finished either. Before he let the ex-mercenary off the social hook, he''d gotten a exercise routine note comparison session the next day out of the guy. They both looked at Orison to make sure that wouldn''t interfere with his plans.


    The young mage added. "It''d probably be a good thing, Neil. Zeke''s an old hand at training. Don''t hackle his cardio until I''ve had a chance to address his nerve damage... That is, when you trust me to, Zeke."


    When the ex-mercenary started questioning Orison about healing credentials, both Neil and Jimmy laid it down after getting the young mage''s approval. He had to step in to do some damage control when Zeke tuned in to the fact that Neil was looking a lot younger looking and better off than he should be. It wasn''t the first time that Orison had shaved some age off the detective and it was a little too much to be played off as genetics and good living by anyone with more than average perception, much less someone like the ex-mercenary.


    Once Neil had made his way off, Jimmy disappeared like morning mist the first chance he got. It suddenly occurred to Orison that Zeke''s intimidation factor might actually possess a touch of supernatural edge. If so, it was weak but coupled with natural factors, it was probably too much for most mundanes which would explain a lot of Zeke''s problems.


    Over the next couple of days, the ex-mercenary stuck to Orison''s side. It didn''t even take one for the man to start to catch on that the young man who recruited him was far from the average guy, even a rich one. The only activity that Orison engaged in that approached normal was a trip into town to check on the gallery and set up an account for the director and a sizable sponsorship for Nicolas.


    Even that spot of business took a left turn when Orison called the director into his office and all but blackmailed the man and gave him two months to square away the ''mistakes'' in the catalog''s sale ledger both to the owner and the artists who were ripped off. Realizing quickly that he was over the barrel and out of his league dealing with someone like Orison, he stepped into hyper drive. Suddenly an empty date book was filled with visits, calls and two up coming events. To give a little carrot after the stick, Orison wrote in a two percent increase to commissions taken from the owner''s share after costs.


    Connections that the director feared would disappear along with Muriel, didn''t. There was even a new patron in the form of a fast food franchise queen who planned on having some art commissioned herself. To make the gallery into an actual legacy worth handing down, Orison also added a graphic design department that would serve to make the most of Mrs Derby and Mrs Carter''s patronage while being useful to them, granting present and future artists even more ways to earn for themselves and the hobby company settled into the shadows of the gallery.


    On the way back home from that half a day of whirlwind activity, Zeke commented, "It really is ''not what you have but who you know''."


    Tooting his own horn a little while trying to keep the pride and a touch of arrogance out of his voice, "Yeah, it really was a stroke of luck for Alice and Rachel that they met me back then."


    Zeke was speechless but the young mage knew the man would be fact checking at some point.


    After having spent the last two days with Orison, Zeke took off for two after getting permission to borrow the pickup truck that Jimmy had fixed for the young mage. When he left, the ex-mercenary explained that he''d either be returning the pickup or returning with his stuff when he came back. The young mage took that to mean that Zeke would be doing his fact check and make the decision to be all in or all out.


    If there was one thing that Orison had figured out about the guy, it was that Zeke didn''t take half measures. The ex-mercenary seemed to take commitments pretty seriously as well. It made the young mage wonder just what kind of horrible crap Wackenut Security Firm had put the man through to break that resolve. He doubted it was as simple as some distaste in business practice.


    To keep himself occupied, outside of regular routine, Orison laid a permanent circle in the basement and a subtle one in the kitchen with Jimmy''s help, Jammer''s more specifically. Possibly due to the node or the coincidental partial overlap, they seemed to harmonize and amplify one another in interesting ways.


    Studying the effects to better understand ritual craft was how he spent the rest of his free time until an empty pickup came rolling in. Orison was confused and a little disappointed but he figured he''d find out soon enough why. When it was followed by three nice cars, the young mage prepared for a fight.

 130 Crawling Chaos 28

    As Zeke got out of the truck, before Orison could ask anything, the ex-mercenary turned to the three cars and yelled, "See!? I f***ing told you that I don''t need to play insurance fraud games with my damn cousin!"


    It was obvious that the man was screaming his head off so that Orison would have an idea what was going on. For whatever reason, Orison noted that the truck was pulled up in a way that he was partially covered by it. Zeke quickly made his way around to the other side as well, leaning against the wall of the truck bed as if he didn''t have a care in the world. Despite that, the young mage could tell that Zeke was tense.


    Orison whispered, "What''s going on Zeke?"


    The ex-mercenary rubbed his nose and under his hand said, "Sicilian mob. My cousin played with fire in more ways than one. Kind of ironic when I think back to what we talked about a few days ago."


    A man got out from the passenger seat of the lead car and walked forward. "Your cousin owes two grand to the bookies, wiseguy. He didn''t think to check who owned the insurance company he tried to scam. I doubt he''d have tried to rob us to pay us back. If he did, he''s dumber than a box of rocks to think he could get away with it."


    Orison narrowed his eyes and said, "What does that have to do with my associate or me, for that matter?"


    Zeke shot him a ''what the hell are you doing!?'' look.


    The man with what Orison identified as a Jersey accent, said, "What''s a family for but to help each other in times of need? Your ''associate''s cousin is in a world of need right now."


    Orison said, "Do you give a damn about your cousin?"


    The ex-mercenary shook his head.


    The young mage turned back to the man and said, "If he doesn''t care, then you could douse him in gas and set him on fire in my front lawn and all I''d do is look for hot dogs and marshmallows. So, once again, what does this have to do with my associate or myself?"


    The man smirked, "Well you see here, this is a two for one gig. My boss was pretty put out by Muriel suddenly pushing daisies and it cost him some dough. All things considered, since we took the blame anyway, We figure someone owes us and it looks like you''re in the best position to pay. Fifty grand should cover it."


    Orison looked at Zeke and said, "Stay behind the truck. It''ll be easier this time if I only have to worry about me."


    The ex-mercenary looked at Orison dubiously but slowly nodded. As the young mage walked around the truck, two more men, armed and pointed at Orison, stepped out of the back of the two other cars.


    With a saintly smile, the young mage said, "And how would you like that payment? Would you prefer a little pain and a message back to your boss, death or a lifetime of servitude in the Abyss?"


    The man in front chuckled. "Hey guys, we got a real nut job this time."


    As bullets ricocheted off him, protected by the teaser suit and a quarter strength field of force, Orison said, "Those two are yours, Ignatius."


    The left gunner took a moment to register that the sound of bullet spray was reduced from two sources to one before he too was whisked away by a hot blast of desert wind through an entrance to Ignatius''s plane that laid less than a dozen feet below. With a disgruntled huff, the ifrit provided a little after service by taking the dead body as well.


    The three drivers dropped their own guns and tried to restart their cars that had shut off during the gun fire without them realizing it. Jammers handed Orison three spark plugs. It seemed like it would be dangerous to choose that method but he figured Jammers wanted to make sure it would be easy to fix them later. The familiar wasn''t much for the idea of breaking things. The little guy even looked sadly at the spot where the lead man had died before returning back to the car garage where Jimmy was likely hiding in a panic.


    Orison shouted, "The first one of you to come and kneel before me gets to deliver the message, the other two are going to lose half their left pinky. That''s how your group atones for a grievous error, right?"


    All three tried their damnedest to be the first one there but the driver of the lead car just had too much advantage. Fearing that they might rush Orison, Zeke stepped up beside him. The one to the right had a glint in his eye that faded as soon as he was locked onto by the ex-mercenary.


    Zeke said, "Yubitsume is a Yakuza thing."


    Without looking away from the man in front of him, Orison shrugged. "I''m a man of my word. As long as you don''t do anything dumb, you''re off with a message and a scraped knee. Stay like that until I say otherwise. I really don''t think you want me to get the wrong idea."


    The first driver who had turned to give a pitying look at the last driver, snapped his head back forward. The last driver sounded like he was muttering some kind of apology to his mom or praying, it was hard to tell. The second driver was thumbing his belt knife but didn''t have the guts to take it out.


    Surprising the young mage, the first driver said, "Can I do the finger thing for Emilio?"


    Curious, Orison asked why and the man said, "He took over playing the organ at the church when his ma got the arthritis bad. He can tickle the ivories pretty good too."


    Orison said. "No. You can''t but he can."


    The young mage looked at the second driver and said, "If you''re willing to lose the top half of your other pinky, Emilio can keep his. Conversely, if you can talk him into it, you can keep yours."


    There was silence for a moment before the man gave some kind of sob story to Emilio and Orison was content to watch the drama play out for the time being. The man tried to appeal to Orison that he could play the mandolin pretty good too among other nonsense that the young mage didn''t care about.


    Eventually, the young mage got tired of hearing the one man monologue and said, "Somebody needs to be offering me a finger before I lose my patience."


    For some twisted reason, the second driver thought that meant he could save his own by forcefully taking Emilio''s. Orison responded by throwing his own dagger into the second driver''s wrist that was extended out in plain sight. He misjudged the force, how sharp the enchanted dagger was and how thin the man''s wrist was. Instead of just sticking the guy like Orison originally intended, he sliced most of the guys hand through.


    While the guy rolled on the ground screaming, Orison asked Zeke to pin him and use the driver''s tie as a tourniquet so he wouldn''t bleed out before he said, "I don''t remember offering the option of taking something that belongs to someone else..."


    Emilio got sick from all the stress and the first driver subconsciously blocked the young man from Orison''s view causing the mage to ask, "Who is this man to you?"


    The first driver said, "He''s my sister''s kid. He don''t know nothing about all of this. I told him I''d give him a few bucks for helping us out as a driver today."


    Orison sighed and said, "I don''t completely believe you but it''s obvious he''s no hardened criminal. If you really care about him, keep him out of this stupid sh*t in the future... Emilio, you owe me three piano performances. If you swear it on your honor, I''ll let you go."


    The young man practically fell over himself to agree. Orison threw him a spark plug and told him to ''beat it''.


    Tossing a spark plug to the second driver, he said, "Get your miserable a** to the hospital. If you see me in the future and you don''t think you can keep the hate out of your eyes, best make your way to the other side of the street and find something interesting to look at because I can feel that sh*t and I will kill you."


    Turning to the first driver he gave his message. "You tell your boss that all is forgiven clean slate if we don''t have any more issues. I''ll mind my business if he minds his. Muriel might have turned into a monster when she got mad but when I lose my temper, even f***ing demons make way because I''m the god damned devil... Make sure that the director of the late Muriel''s gallery has Emilio''s number by tomorrow evening. If he''s good, I might even pay him."


    Returning the last spark plug, Orison watched them struggle to get them back in before he finally called Jimmy out to help the drivers put them back in. To play it safe, he pretended that Jimmy was some random guy he''d called to look at one of his cars and luckily he picked up fast enough to play along.


    Once they were gone, Orison turned to Zeke and said, "Nice surprise follow up. I thought I was going to have to suddenly remember where the pinky cutting thing came from. I didn''t know it had a special name, though."


    Confused, Zeke said, "What purpose does that serve? And why did you expose yourself like that? Won''t you get yourself in hot water with the rest of the societies you told me about if you draw too much attention in that direction?"


    Orison said, "The boss will think I might have dealings with the Yakuza which will give him pause. Even if he doesn''t, he''ll know I must have heard or seen it somewhere. As far as I know, that''s not common knowledge here... And what is it that they saw exactly? Me punching someone really hard and making a couple of people disappear with some crazy magic trick? They''d much rather believe I''m a skilled guy with some weird booby traps on my property than someone who can play with their lives with supernatural ease.


    "Maybe they''ll think I really am the devil but I can only see that working in my favor. Even in the worst case, there''s omerta to fall back on. It would be a huge loss of face for their Don to have to go to someone for help. I just hope I chose the right chicken to kill to scare the monkeys. The loudmouth was either someone acting brave to make a name or someone who thought he was untouchable. Considering he was getting instructions from the first driver before he got out, I''m pretty sure it was the first.


    "The driver of the first car was the only one I was a bit concerned about hurting. He was someone important. He didn''t even have the subtle reverence that most would have towards their Don when he mentioned his ''boss''. He''s either family or a close friend."


    Zeke said, "You trying to show off to me?... The most important one was Emilio. My guess is that the kid is probably the Don''s youngest son or oldest grandson... One way or another, that kid''s gonna be taking up piano like his life depends on it."


    Orison sighed, "As long as he can read sheet music enough to knock the dust off the baby grand at the gallery without embarrassing himself, that''s good enough for me... Alright, I need you to throw your arm around my shoulder like we''re buddies going inside for a drink to celebrate our victory or whatever and help support me or I''m going to stumble around like a drunk person."


    Once they were inside, Orison had Zeke take him down to the basement to do some emergency alchemy. Fortunately, he had already planned on doing some since the circles had been laid and he''d had a chance to make sure that nothing wonky was going on with their mysteriously strong synergy.


    As the young mage got busy with Zeke playing assistant, he said, "Fun fact. Just because you can emulate being bullet proof, doesn''t mean you''re shock proof. Underneath my suit, I''m pretty much a single large bruise and my internal organs aren''t doing so well... I know that this country was based on the idea of personal responsibility of its citizens being able to check ''out of control'' government but do civilians really NEED access to automatic weapons?"


    Zeke quipped, "Don''t you think you''re own existence is the most damning counterpart to your argument?"


    There was some good to come out of the incident. Over the next couple of days, the ex-mercenary got to personally witness the miraculous nature of Orison''s medicine and consented to starting his own course. Zeke wasn''t quite ready to fully commit but it looked like it was only a matter of time once the benefits of the medicine started accumulating. The young mage only hoped that time wouldn''t be longer than a little over a week or the ''awakening juice'' would go bad.


    It turned out an unnecessary worry. With the repairs and initial stock of ''fixer-uppers'' in Jimmy''s garage, it was time for the man to move out of Orison''s house and go back to the mundane world. Except, he didn''t want to. In an impassioned argument, he laid out a case and all but pulled a ''Stag'' on the young mage. Jimmy might not have emotionally blackmailed Orison like his second student had but Jimmy wanted to be special with a hunger that eclipsed Stag''s motivations.


    Though he had admitted to being scared and pitted a damning low self-esteem argument against his own worthiness, Jimmy was ready to do whatever it took within the limits of his simple but wholesome mind to become a full fledged member. Against his better judgment, Orison relented. After having witnessed Jimmy''s excruciatingly painful but successful induction into the gifted community, Zeke also consented.


    Orison stared at the last mushroom that had evolved to convert inert essence into a toxin defense mechanism against consumption, the main ingredient of the awakening juice. He''d meant to save it for Neil as a ''just in case'' but it became obvious that the detective was fine with nature taking its course moving forward. Orison had some spores saved back but it would likely be a long time before they would mature into usefulness beyond reducing the presence of inert essence in his basement. If he didn''t posses a strong intuition and some logical reasoning that Zeke was an essential addition, he might have left the ex-mercenary in limbo for awhile.


    The recently recovered Jimmy helped Orison take care of Zeke while the ex-mercenary finished his own recovery from induction. During that time, the young mage got his first tithing from Ignatius. On the essence side, it wasn''t that helpful because the majority was used to recreate the link with the planar will that had been used to deliver tithes before. On the material side, Orison was dumbfounded over what Ignatius had managed to collect.


    Outside of the far more meager collection of special materials, Orison liquidated the rest through various channels to swell his personal wealth, grow his private ventures and create nest eggs for his friends and ''employee''. That same process also let him lay down remaining hostilities with the mafia group and allowed Ignatius to create a connection for laundering through them after negotiating hostage release. The Don and Orison even sat down to dinner together after Emilio''s first performance at a gallery function.


    Settling into a comfortable routine as he trudged through his own long and grueling recovery, Orison began to get a social itch. At first it was a few lunch dates with Mrs Carter and Mrs Derby that ended up including her youngest son. Then, as Orison started feeling a little less vulnerable, it extended to occasional weekend parties with the couple from The Village that inevitably included their girlfriend and girlfriend''s girlfriend, etc.


    Unwilling to turn his back completely on his ''fun friends'' but realizing it was quickly escalating into alarming proportions, Orison acquired an unused warehouse at the edge of the border between The Village and an inland portion of the docks. To keep good with the mafia that ran the area, he hired Emilio as the manager and left ongoing renovations and party planning to him with the promise that illegal business wasn''t done in it. With the organizational skills and protection of the mafia on one side and the friendly but powerful collective members at the heart of its forming on the other, it quickly became a place that people wanted to be.


    Seeing all the work and love Emilio, his collective friends Mark and Amber put into the place, Orison gave twenty-five percent shares to him and the couple. As for himself, he became a silent partner who only intervened to break ties. Zeke even briefly involved himself to help set up proper safety and security measures, enjoying a little fifteen minutes of popularity in the process.


    With everything running smoothly in all departments, Orison suddenly started feeling paranoid. Even when the fourth installment of tithed essence came pouring in and re-establishing tenuous contact with his summons, the feeling continued to grow. Unsure of what was coming, Orison stockpiled resources into his space and set up contingency plans on property and for the people he''d grown to care about.


    When the buzz of incoming disaster reached an unbearable peak, Orison holed up in his house. It slacked up a touch but then started building again. Eventually it reached a point where it seemed that no matter what he did, some bad fate was unavoidable. For the first time, he wished that his focus hadn''t silenced the shadow in his bones.


    Trying hard to focus in on the source of the intuition, the young mage tried to let the inner voice be a guide. For a brief moment, he could have sworn he heard Keita tell him to sun bath like usual. Since he''d reached a point where his continued sanity was at stake, he listened to the voice which may or may not have been there. Around five minutes later, as Zeke counseled him to consider seeking professional help, a whizzing sound preceded darkness.

 131 Crawling Chaos 29

    Like a light was switched on, Orison came to with a startled gasp. Rolling out of a twin size bed in a log cabin, his hand moved to immediately activate his teaser suit. His thought alone was enough. Streaks of black shot down his body like lightning strikes and spread to envelope him like quick forming frost. Whatever he was wearing, it wasn''t the suit he originally had. It had safety protocols and even some minor first aid functions.


    He looked around for his over robe but didn''t see it. He looked into his inner space to find nothing, at least at first. His space was as massive as ever and all of the stuff he had stored in it was scattered to the edges, most having been chewed up. There was no problem reaching the center anymore but the only thing there was what could only be described as a white hole.


    His soul and spiritual bloodlines had merged into something he couldn''t understand, had no reference with which to do so. The only translation that came through to three dimensional thought process was that they had fused into some kind of ring portal with a pin prick center to some violently energetic place. Reaching out through the void of his inner space for anything gave him the sensation of jumping long distances but there was no sense of energy expenditure because the space was a part of him.


    His perception could be anywhere within it and anything within it could be where he wanted it to be. With this realization, he stopped searching for things and started drawing them. Eventually all of the remnants of his things were gathered in one place but there was one ''thing'' that resisted his pull. Not so much resisted as ineffectually tried to dig its feet in, metaphorically speaking, and screamed not to be moved.


    At a distance from the center where the radiation of essence from the pin prick ''white hole'' became a mild bombardment but still far away from the edge, sat his mini plane, still orbiting a chunk of condensed eternium. It had shrunk some and there were far fewer plants but everything looked more ''real'' and ''alive''. He looked for signs of his summons only to find that the elementals had fused into the plane, transforming into living law of a kind. The horse was gone but his ''fairies'' had condensed into one dormant form, hiding as some kind of potential within the spiritual ring portal at the center of his space.


    It wasn''t all five of them, however. One had ''ran away from home'', leaving little more than a trail of dissipating connection. Another was several miles away, connection withering but still present.


    Returning his focus to the outside, Orison scanned around with spirit sense. It was as clear as his normal senses but not much further in scope. Things like walls and ground weren''t much of an obstacle to it, though. He had a lot more control over what he could sense or not sense with it as well.


    Although it didn''t leave him with much, metaphysically speaking, Orison could feel that what concepts remained were the very best of what he had. It could have waited. He might be set up for long term success but he couldn''t imagine having less abilities to be a good thing for whatever situation he was currently in.


    Reviewing, he realized it wasn''t impossible to do things like healing or even summoning but that they would have to be augmented with ritual since that was the law of this land. The only innate abilities that he could still use directly were telekinesis and his devouring space mode. Both were heavy and draining. He''d have to sharpen his physical training back up and really log some time with ritual study to get up to snuff again.


    While he was experimenting around, Orison discovered that the emissions from the white hole could passively invigorate inert essence. At a rough guess, he placed it at being able to process a fist sized thick shell''s worth a day. If that were the only consideration, the size and newfound control of his space would give him a lot of room to play but he had to worry about life essence reserves. That was something that didn''t replenish so quickly.


    For the time being, the young mage had figured out all he could without asking some questions. His experimentation had taken over an hour and Zeke still wasn''t leaving the outhouse. He would have left it alone and given the ex-mercenary all the time he needed but there seemed to be something a little off about it and the unknowns of their situation were pressing like a toothache in the back of the young mage''s head.


    "You, uh, alright in there?" Orison said awkwardly.


    There was silence for awhile before Zeke said, "I think I had too much of that candy bar the lady who saved you gave me. Can you check it out and see if your witch doctor stuff can figure it out. The other two bars are in the drawer under the book shelves."


    Orison went back in to the cabin and inspected the ''candy bars''. The writing on the empty wrapper in the trash was in a language somewhere between cuneiform and the pictograph writing style of an animation call Hunter Vs. Hunter, unreadable. Luckily, the smell of the product and his spirit sight gave him an idea of what the problem was. To make sure, Orison ate a test bite of a bar and ended up eating the whole thing like he was starving to death.


    Once his body had absorbed all it could, the young mage shunted the excess ''qi'', spirit and life essence into his space. At first he was worried about the presumed ''qi'' being structure poison but it was so mild that it converted to stamina and a warm flow of bolstering essence of unknown but beneficial quality. Too much of anything is bad and even Orison would have been troubled if he didn''t have something to catch the overflow.


    Orison handed a few items in through the door and said, "Okay. Eat the lotus seeds before the air drains them of their potency... Take the knife and make a small poke hole in the prominent vein of your swollen, er, toe. Due to the excess good stuff from the supplement bar, it''ll stop bleeding on its own once enough pressure has been released... Catch that blood in the cup. Once the blood as been exposed to air for just a bit, cut it with the alcohol and mix it decent before drinking it."


    Zeke cut off further instruction as he said, "You want me to drink it!?"


    The young mage clarified and continued. "Its more like what will bond with the blood that I want you to drink. It''ll give you a little boost to your growth. Don''t get carried away with the draining, though. If the cut''s too big or you force extra out, you could do damage neither of us is going to be happy about having to heal... Once you''re done with all that, rub the aloe on any, um, raw spots if you have any."


    Once Orison heard a tiny pop followed by a small whimper, he left, stomach flipping in sympathetic nausea. A few minutes later, Zeke stepped out of the outhouse with half the bottle of vodka gone.


    When Zeke offered the items back to the young mage, orison took the knife and bottle. "These two, I''ll take. The cup''s all yours, buddy... If you''re up to it, mind telling me what happened and how we got out here?"


    The ex-mercenary nodded. "You got your head blown off by a sniper rifle. It exploded like a watermelon hit by a sledgehammer. The helmet of your suit came out when the bullet was still passing through, throwing shards of it everywhere too. I even got cut by a piece... Then again, it might have been a piece of your skull or a tooth. It''s hard to tell for sure."


    Feeling a little green, Orison said, "Okaaay. Enough on that. What happened afterwards?"


    Zeke said, "From what I remember, a six inch dark spot that looked kinda person shaped came out of you and went the direction the bullet came from. Then a lady came out of what looked like a, no offense, v*gina made of light and then I don''t remember much until I came back around with her shoving the bars into my hand, asking me to look after you for a couple of days because it wasn''t safe for her to stick around.


    "When I asked her why, she said she was too high on some hype- hyper extraction line..." Zeke paused, looking troubled.


    Orison added helpfully, "Hypostatic abstraction line?"


    Zeke snapped his fingers and pointed at Orison. "That''s the one... She said she was invalidating existence. Do you have any idea what the hell she was talking about?"


    Orison said, "Most people say honey is sweet but you can say honey has sweetness. If you do, then you can compare different brands of honey for which is sweeter and so on. If you did that with all the different factors that we use to identify something, it would be possible to identify one that is so exemplary of what that object is to us that the an object at the bottom of the same list might no longer seem like it''s that object at all.


    "In her case, she''s so ''real'' that this reality is invalidated by her presence. Because we''re in a low dimensional world, that''s dangerous. I''ll fill you in on that some other time... Did she say anything else?"


    Ready to drop whatever thoughts were paining him, Zeke said, "Yeah. She threw around some stuff about grandfathered warranties and a old as hell recall that was placed on the teaser suit you had. Even though the last thing she said sounded like it was just a list of words, it might be important. So, I focused mainly on trying to remember that.


    "For accidentally invalidating us, after she used a ''retrieve'' scroll, she used something that I couldn''t understand but roughly stuck in my head as ''filling in what''s missing with what is truest''... Whatever THAT was, she looked like it really pushed her bottom line and she seemed like a nice gal... To finish it off, she revived us and brought us to a place where we wouldn''t get slapped by the backlash. Once again, don''t know why there would be one and I don''t know what kind of backlash it was. She didn''t say."


    Orison said, "Do you know where we are and how long we''ve been here?"


    Zeke said, "Well, we''ve been here just shy of two days. I done some looking around yesterday and lost the urge to when I realized that this was the only real safe spot. Don''t know why that is, but we''re surrounded by some pretty spooky stuff."


    Orison frowned. "That''s strange. I sensed that one of my, uh, summons is nearby. I wonder why they didn''t stop in to say hi."


    The ex-mercenary said, "Summons? Is that like Jimmy''s invisible friend? I know he''s real but that doesn''t change the fact he''s invisible."


    "Easiest way to answer that is ''same flower, different kind of cake''... I''m not going to complain about it but I can''t believe I was saved by a warranty and given some extra service because of a product recall. It doesn''t give me high hopes for greater reality." Orison said.


    It looked like Zeke had a light turn on in his head. "Oh, that''s right. She did say something else. It was right after I was fixed or whatever the hell it was she did... She was surprised that one of the products made it so far away from the reality splay it belonged to. We''re a couple over... You have any idea on that one?"


    Orison thought for awhile and responded, "Not really. If I guess from the use of ''splay'' and I assume potential realities start to decrease in number the higher up we go, then a splay of realities would be an ever widening slice belonging to a specific higher reality that climbers funnel towards. It has to do with low, mid and high dimensional reality stuff I haven''t really explained to you yet because I didn''t know if you were going to become a climber or not."


    Zeke said, "What''s a climber?"


    Oriosn looked around and saw that it was getting fairly late in the day. "Alright. It looks like we''re going to be staying here until morning anyway. I''ll tell you about what a climber is and all that. I''m pretty sure you have the juice to be one now anyway."


    Over the course of the late afternoon and early evening, Orison explained his journey. He skipped over some sensitive details and left out things that he didn''t think Zeke would be interested in knowing but was pretty thorough otherwise. They also split up and shared the last supplement bar within safely timed intervals to keep it from being made worthless by the greedy air. Orison would have saved it in his space but the ex-mercenary wanted it and it was his. At least he was willing to share.


    As the sun set, Orison began feeling tired. It had been a long time since he had experienced drowsiness like a normal person. He didn''t know exactly what the cause was but considering everything that happened, the young mage felt that only time would be able to answer the nearly endless questions he had.


    Like the previous day, Orison came to like someone had flipped a switch on him. This time it was the crack of dawn. He looked down to the floor where Zeke had made a pallet to sleep on. The man looked like he had a fight for his life. The young mage quickly looked himself over to see that he was perfectly fine, if in need of reactivating his suit, which he did.


    Turning his attention back to the ex-mercenary, Orison saw that the faint bruising and scratches were fading even as he watched. It made the young mage wonder how bad he had looked like earlier. He was even more curious to find out what happened.


    Since Zeke wasn''t in danger but in desperate need of new clothes, as a rag of a t-shirt and torn boxers was all the man had left, Orison combed through his space to find that there was a lot more stuff in it and quite a few more motes of condensed eternium floating around. It dawned on him that more time might have passed than either of them was aware and this was his share of abyssal tithing.


    That wasn''t the only thing that changed from the day before. The withered connection he had with the remaining ''fairy'' was gone. It had went the way of the other connection he could barely feel, off world and most likely out of this reality.


    Sifting through the shopping mall worth of stuff dumped into his space, Orison found a damn good set of motorcycle riding leathers that would serve the ex-mercenary well. If the array of most advanced items was anything to go off of, it was somewhere in the mid eighties out in the wide world. That was quite a bit shocking but all things considered, Orison really didn''t feel overly awed by it.


    Suddenly curious and inspired, the young mage dusted off some unused knowledge and decided to test how much of a law unto itself his space had become. Mixing the new understandings of ritual with old knowledge of enchanting from his first world, Orison bent his space to his will and performed a series of enchantments on the set of clothes. Even the socks weren''t spared.


    Orison''s budding excitement cooled rather quickly as the enchantments performed without ritual work began buckling and twisting before he removed them into the world. Once done, Orison was rather disappointed with the result. Only a fifth of his investment manage to stick which made for decent armor-like clothes with a resistance to heat and cold that wasn''t to sneeze at. A silver lion with gold accents that hung on a thick neck chain even managed to carry a small aid to healing on it. The rest was either so weak it was negligible or didn''t stick at all.


    While he consoled himself that the knowledge and experience was worth it, if nothing else, the young mage tapped Zeke on the shoulder. Clothes and chain flew as he found himself pinned chest down under the man. There was a slightly wild look in Zeke''s eyes that only managed to fade after a handful of breaths.


    "Alright. I''ll take that as a lesson learned on how not to wake you but my feelings, and therefore you, are about to get f***ed up if you don''t let go of me," Orison said unhappily.


    Zeke grinned in a way that Orison almost took as a challenge before the ex-mercenary let him go and the young mage remembered how misleading Zeke''s slightly ''evil by nature'' face made every expression.


    The man helped lift the mage back up and dust off. "Good. You''re you."


    Orison decided to ignore the slight sound of disappointment in Zeke''s voice. "While you''re checking out your new threads, maybe you can tell me what happened last night? I would really like to f***ing know!"

 132 Crawling Chaos 30

    Zeke said. "I was put under Geas, so I can''t say much. It''s kind of funny that even creepy things like... that supernaturals have their own version of NDAs... Basically, you went nuts. We fought. You won once. Pushed some stuff, along with whatever made you nuts, into me. We went back and forth a few times but it was pretty fun. Then, whatever made us go crazy was...taken away but the rest was left inside."


    There was the vague shadow of events within Orison''s soul. Impressions of a little pain, a lot of adrenaline and a sense of having fun were there. Fun might be a bit of an understatement but as far as Orison was concerned, it could stay that way.


    His life seemed to have certain reoccurring themes but this didn''t feel like a rehash of ''can''t remember what I did to Ivan''. That was a primal urge to suppress a competitor, to dominate. This was dark and destructive chaos temporarily funneled into a less life threatening expression that wouldn''t have stayed that way for long.


    If they had been lost to it, one of them would have killed the other or they would have went elsewhere on a killing spree. They may have handed ice cream with razor blades in it to nuns and children for all he knew. It was like an urge to explore any repressed whim. Fortunately, they were both fairly self contained people so there was a lot of ramping up before it would have went full dark thirty.


    While Orison had been lost to thought, Zeke had went outside and grabbed a piece of charcoal from the potbelly stove. While the young mage watched, the ex-mercenary sketched out a rough but relatively decent sketch of a thin scraggly woman on a skeletal horse followed by three black dogs. Next he drew the cabin and something oozing out of it to the feet of one of the dogs.


    Once Zeke was finished drawing, he said, "I go to kill a killer and claim what was taken from us. For as long as it is mine, you will be honored... That was the message. Ssss...He wanted you to be lead into certain thoughts. I don''t think that''s fair... Sss...He called the horse Erabna, if that helps?"


    Orison sighed. "It''s the reversal of my horse summon, Enbarr. She''s one of my, I guess you''d call it spiritual children. Does she think of herself as a male or only wants me to believe she is?"


    Zeke shook his head and held up two fingers as he said, "I can''t cheat it like that."


    Orison said, "Did she look sad or scared?"


    Zeke said, "None of the above."


    He tried to say more but couldn''t. Instead, he drew a caricature with a wide smile and even went so far as to poke a small hole in his thumb to give it red eyes before swirling it with the charcoal."


    While Zeke took a military shower, he painted the imagery of twisted plant life and animals. At night, living shadows stalked the earth with animated corpses. There was undoubtedly more to worry about but the ex-mercenary''s forays had been brief.


    Orison absorbed the information as the militant man suited up. The process was momentarily interrupted with the need to remove a few splinters. By this point, the young mage was so numb to playing doctor that any embarrassment from the sensitive nature of such a practice didn''t even faze anymore. In an effort to ''fit in'', Zeke had learned to be reserved but embarrassment was more of an affected behavior than a legitimately felt emotion.


    "Natural blond, huh? Congratulation''s on the brown dye job. It looks really natural... But why?" Orison commented in mild curiosity.


    Zeke said, "Got a lot of gray really early. I was sensitive about it. Especially since I was kind of on a personal quest to try to experience the misspent young adulthood I never got to enjoy. It didn''t go so well... The lion can decide to lay with the lamb, so to speak. But the lambs weren''t having it, I guess."


    Orison said, "Well, then good news for you. After my medicine and largely due to the supplement bars, you could pass as your own son from the time we went missing if my guess is on point."


    Zeke stopped inspecting all the zippers and snaps on his suit. "And what guess would that be?"


    "That it''s somewhere around the mid to late eighties out there," Orison said adroitly.


    The ex-mercenary said in a stunned voice, "Twenty years gone, just like that?"


    Orison nodded. "Give or take."


    A few minutes later, they were making their way down a gravel road on two bicycles and armed with guns. There were a couple of additions to the arsenal that Orison was fairly sure were illegal but there was no use worrying about that in their current situation. As they headed east, looking for an actual paved road, there was an eerie silence but no sign of dangerously twisted animals.


    In a low voice, Zeke said, "I don''t get it. There were a lot yesterday. Now, except a creepy looking plant here or there, I don''t see anything."


    An old woman suddenly appeared a bit further down the gravel road, right as a paved one came into sight.


    She said, "That is because they run. Twisted or not, there will be no life here by tomorrow."


    Orison peered at the withered face in front of him and exclaimed, "Zora!? What happened?"


    She laughed sadly and said, "There are too many questions and not enough time... Here, take this."


    Zora handed him the mini trainer. Ever since he had arrived here, though it had been there, buried in the soil with the capsule, it wasn''t functional. He''d never gotten around to fixing it and had forgotten about it.


    She continued, "The first division holds information for you. The second is for me... You''ll understand soon... I, of course, could not stop you from seeing what it contains but it might be uncomfortable for you to experience several years of life for an active, married woman but suit yourself... The third holds Jammers. If you care for the sweet lad, do not disturb that part.


    "If you do what needs done and the trainer holds no further use, break it to free him. He can always fix it for you again. And I believe it will hold more use to you once it is empty."


    As Orison revved up to spit off some questions, she raised her hand and a circle lit up around them.


    Zeke was about to rush her to stop whatever was happening but Orison held him back. "I trust her."


    As the circle finished invoking whatever eldritch forces it commanded, the ex-mercenary muttered, "Yeah, but why should I trust her?"


    Zora said, "It matters not at all. I am done."


    A film of obscuring, slightly negative energy coated them. She pointed to a spot in the sky and turned to dust. All that was left behind were her clothes and a clean, folded garment made of sheer silk-like material. Zeke looked where she pointed while Orison picked up his over robe, wondering how it came to be in her possession, lamenting whatever cruel fate brought her to this point.


    Not seeing any point in wasting time Zora said they didn''t have, Orison activated the first part of the trainer. Moments later, while his head still reeled with the information stuffed into it, he looked at Zeke. The man was still staring at the sky, slack jawed.


    Far to the north there was something enormous in the sky. It was slightly obscure by the fading blue of distance and sunlight but Orison could make out a little of its features. A moon sized object slowly fell. Around it were massive drifting tendrils and at the center of the mass was what appeared to be an unopened eye. Looking at it directly was not a good idea and Orison had his suspicions that the coating of curse-like energy was to protect them from the subtle hints of corruption radiating off of it. Considering that not too far under it was their destination, it was pretty much a given fact. What he had seen from the information shared to him, he was going.


    Orison turned to Zeke. "Stop looking at that and listen to me... You have two options. You can go with me to where that thing is falling, risking madness, mutation and oblivion for a chance at a better life or you can do something else, anything else. It would be preferable that you did it as far from here as possible, the Antarctic for example."


    Visibly shaken, Zeke said, "Why would you want to go there?"


    His face an unreadable mask, Orison said, "Better a quick oblivion fighting for a chance at a real life than to be trapped like a rat on a slowly sinking ship. The dark tide is closed now. It''s just going to keep rolling in til the pressure swallows and disperses all life, at least life as we know it."


    The young mage didn''t wait for an answer. He just swung his bicycle north and took off, over robe snapping in the wind like a lazy flag. A whizzing of tires against the road in rhythmic pumps preceded Zeke''s appearance by Orison''s side.


    The ex-mercenary merely said, "What''s the objective?"


    Orison said, "An artifact in the main temple. As for what the main temple is or where the artifact is located? I''m fairly certain the first will answer itself. The second will probably be the deepest and hardest place to reach by statistical average."


    Not too far up was where Zora had parked the car she had driven. Taking the key pinned to the over robe off, Orison started the car as Zeke whipped around to the other side.


    "What about the bikes?" the ex-mercenary said.


    Orison just gave him a look and waited for the man to shut his door.


    Playing with the radio for a bit once they were on the road, Zeke tried to break the silence and the growing tension. "I suppose I shouldn''t be surprised the radio doesn''t work, the vents won''t open and the windows handles are broken off."


    Orison said, "Everything about this car, or as much as can be, has been carefully prepared to give greatest advantage. The radio doesn''t work because listening to anything on it would expose us to outsider communication. The vents and windows are stuck shut to reduce exposure to harmful things in the air... If you look in the back seat you''ll see a dozen smokeless ashtrays running on batteries. That alone proves she doesn''t see everything but the sentiment is touching. Put your helmet on."


    Orison activated his own as he explained. "There''s a bit of a breathing enchantment on it. It doesn''t work the way its supposed to but it''ll keep you from being oxygen starved when we''re fighting later. More importantly, it''s significantly more effective than those things in the back seat."


    It took hours of driving and two stops to put gas in the car from the cans in the trunk, as it would be too dangerous to pull into a gas station or interact in any way with natives that they did see from time to time. They weren''t the only car on the road and they weren''t the only ones wearing helmets. Orison had to school Zeke to act more blase to keep him from reacting to those who weren''t.


    A few miles before the gas would run out, Zeke asked, "Why are you wanting me to pour out the pop bottles onto the floorboard?"


    Orison sighed. "I don''t see where it matters after you dropped the one you were p*ssing in earlier but we can use them as silencers for our guns... Default targets are me, my left and you, my right. If there''s an odd number, I''ll let you pick up the center. Twelve o'' clock is default starting point for any situation that it makes sense in."


    He''d never seen Zeke in action mode but it became obvious that the man was, in fact, an adrenaline junkie.


    With a chuckle, the militant guy said, "Keep talking dirty to me."


    Ignoring Zeke''s attempt at humor, Orison said, "See the electrical tape in the glove box? I need you to fix the bottles onto the gun barrels...Yeah, good improvising. I should have known the bottles wouldn''t... Are you seriously f***ing the bottle necks with a gun barrel!? You know what? I don''t care."


    Zeke sighed. "Your stress is getting too high. Take a deep breath."


    Orison''s voice turned cold. "You''re right. Just keep in mind that we have less than five miles before the car runs out of gas."


    The ex-mercenary frowned. "Don''t do that. Whatever you just did, switch back on. That''s lazy mental programming. That''ll screw you up if you do something regrettable while you''re like that. Better to feel it all the time than all at once later. Adapt, don''t disconnect."


    Emotion came back into Orison''s voice as he said, "Is that a trainer''s professional take?"


    Zeke said, "You''re damn skippy it is. Assassins have been using that trick since the dawn of time and the few that survive to retirement end up people who can''t stop killing, suicidal or straight up nuttier than a fruitcake... It breaks you."


    In the last couple of miles before the car rolled to a stop, the scenery drastically changed to something alien. It didn''t even feel like they were on earth anymore. It looked like something out of a sci-fi horror movie, a high budget one.


    "Hold your gun behind you and clamp your other hand on your dominant wrist. I don''t really know why. It was bland instruction with no reference. The kind I hate the most," Orison bickered.


    As Zeke looked around, he said, "Is it too late to find religion?"


    Without humor, Orison said, "The only kind of gods who answer prayers here, I don''t think you''d appreciate the blessings of... Strike that. A bit of true faith would probably serve you well but I don''t know if that''s something you can just drum up from nowhere."


    Zeke said, "I know you know I was trying to be funny. You taking that serious makes me nervous."


    Orison said, "You may have meant it as a joke but it has a real answer. Faith is powerful. I''ve seen it in action. I just don''t understand it. I don''t think it''s meant to be understood... I''m not cut out for faith. I like to analyze things too much."


    Far in front of them stood two hooded figures that became clearer and more strange the closer they got.


    The young mage whispered. "Don''t attack unless they leave us no choice. Killing or even making them lose consciousness will alert others. I want to try something first."


    The one on Orison''s left held out an irregularly bulging gloved hand and made guttural sounds at him as a weak wave of psychic force probed him. Orison responded by sending a sharply focused suggestion that he and Zeke had said or did whatever needed to be done for passage through. He may have lost the glamour but his ability to affect a single target had only gotten better with ritual practice. He wasn''t too shabby at sending out a weak wave of simple, passive suggestion either.


    Orison was worried that they''d notice Zeke''s gun or that the man would break his hand lock to move it out of sight but the man used ingenious angling of his body to take advantage of blind spots and line of sight blocking. It was quite a feat considering that a two liter bottle was by no means small. It helped that Zeke took a bit of a gamble and moved in front of Orison despite the two ''guards'' differing to the young mage.


    Once they were past the first line of ''manned defense'', they felt a sensation as if they passed through a magic border. Whatever it was for, it slid over their curse coating like water over an oil treatment. It was no surprise the secret societies couldn''t get anyone close. The security measures were insidious and subtle enough that the infiltrator would be taken unaware before they had a chance.


    Orison had no doubts that a person, once identified as an intruder, didn''t have long before things escalated beyond coping. He just hoped they wouldn''t join that number. He had it on good authority that this was the most relaxed it would get before ''the end''. They believed they had already won.


    There was little doubting that considering the giant eye in the sky wasn''t exactly going to go away just because something got blown up or destroyed. Whatever event was going down here wouldn''t be stopped a cultist sneezing on a chant phrase. That was certain.


    Looking around, trying his hardest not to look up at the madness and terror inducing sight above them, Zeke said, "Big pyramid with dead bodies all over the place?"


    Orison sighed. "The one surrounded by thousands of mutated worshipers? Where else would our goal be? I really wish it was that half destroyed cafe over there. There''s nothing going on there... I don''t see any signs of impossible geometry but just remember what I said about corners that look too long or other things that''ll grab your attention and rattle your brain."


    Zeke said, "Corner of the eye only. Two girls, one cup. Got it."


    No sooner had he finished speaking, the ex-mercenary fell flat on his face.


    Orison looked at the same line of sight and realized he was looking at a corner of the pyramid and saw nothing wrong with any of the five sides of its four corners. That is, until it registered to him that it had five sides and only four corners. His mind could still filter that despite not having a sub mind anymore and wondered if it had something to do with what he had become.


    Either way, he now had to find out how he was going to get closer to his goal while dragging an unconscious person with him. He locked sight on the procession of sacrifice presenters and suddenly felt that Zeke''s sudden nose dive wasn''t such a bad thing after all. Hooking the man under the collar, he started making his way to the line.

 133 Crawling Chaos 31

    Things were going well until Zeke woke back up. Finding himself being dragged up the steps of the pyramid, the ex-mercenary instinctively fought back against being brought to the place were people were being slaughtered in a semi steady stream. Orison attempted to buy them more time with a ''we''re just part of the scenery'' obfuscation. It worked for all of five seconds.


    A shrill screech reminiscent of every fingernail on every chalk board of the world being dragged at once reverberated across the air. Every head present turned towards them. Faintly, Orison could feel the mostly still asleep moon sized planet killer above them draw its attention down too.


    A portal opened and a figure stepped through that looked similar to what Orison did when he pulled his space over himself, save for a pair of electric blue eyes. The young mage immediately knew who, more accurately, what it/they was/were. Those in the know called him/it Gnarly. The suicidally inclined named the creature Nyarlathotep, drawing its gaze to themselves.


    For whatever reason, an entity whose mere projection was tier five and ''real'' enough to invalidate reality around it, chose to mark a lower dimensional world for oblivion in such a roundabout way. The churning of reality around itself caused all else to slow, as if teetering on the edge of an event horizon. However, it had not come to interfere, only to watch.


    A feather light touch to the ground and its presence faded from perception. Orison took advantage of the distraction the demented spectator had caused, slipping into his own version of becoming a cardboard cutout hole of a person. Eating a chunk out of the steps beneath him, the young mage nudged Zeke into the hole before dropping after.


    The inside of the pyramid was a nightmare of epic proportions. Sense of direction was pointless. Even spirit sight was no help at all. Only the Find Object ability at the core of what feeble psionic ability he possessed, offered any guidance. Following that guidance was its own hellish struggle and every moment spent saw corruption filled and inert essence clogging and choking up the pure dot of irradiating light at the center of his space.


    As Orison made his way through the folds and creases of spacial origami, he''d occasionally cease using Find Objective to apply his weak psionics to catalyze magic into telekinetic force, dragging and sliding Zeke around like a rag doll. Only the most senior members of their pursuers could follow but Orison couldn''t stop using his space to move or they''d get stuck like flies in amber at one point or another. The cost kept piling and the young mage despaired that he''d turn to dust as Zora had, long before they reached their goal.


    Had it been some random child, he might have been able to balance all that was at stake against it. He would feel monstrous but maybe one day he would be able to forgive himself or make up in some way what he had done. But it wasn''t just any child. It was Keita. It was the woman who had planned her own suicide to spare him, burned a massive amount of potential and power to reinvent herself rather than betray him. Even in his current situation, it was as if her soul was forgiving him in advance rather than grudging the possibility of its life ending before it had a chance to taste it fully.


    He couldn''t do it. A passing thought of suggested emotional weakness warred with the idea that success at such a cost was beyond Pyrrhic victory, it was the loss of a much different kind of war, possibly a more important one. It no longer mattered. The decision was made and there was no second chance as the connection faded away.


    Trudging along, Orison could feel cellular death affecting the extremities of his body. With calculated precision and disconnected ambivalence, the young mage redirected his remaining life essence and the judiciously applied drop of vital water until his plane was no longer accessible. Riddled with necrosis and cancer, Orison crawled for each precious inch.


    At some point, he realized his forward movement wasn''t caused by himself. He''d stopped being a cutout person and someone was carrying him. Sharp retorts of gun fire rang miles away, near his barely functioning ears. A strained voice yelling at a vocal cord breaking volume was the slightest imaginary whisper, telling Orison that a locked door barred their way.


    A girl''s voice that was perhaps imaginary, sounded like thunder. "You don''t need all the keys, only one. The right one."


    From condensed concept, a sprinkle of dust particle chrism flung throughout his space and the vague remnants of the original Danann Key that had been destroyed to save him during his botch of a ritual, Orison made a key. It only had one purpose and one use, unlocking the obstacle in front of him.


    For a moment he felt weightless. That feeling turned into a scattering of barely felt pain as chalk-like bones shattered throughout his body. He didn''t know if he was alive or dead. He didn''t know if they reached their goal. Orison just reached out with as much push as he could and directed whatever sentient life might be there to take hold of the device a order it to take the person back, back as far as they could go.


    Mindless, meaningless time passed. Particle after particle of conscious soul drifted off Orison''s core like sparks off of a slow motion burning of iron filings on a sparkler. It wasn''t thought but more of a primal understanding that he''d drift until there was nothing left, maybe burn up like an asteroid entering an atmosphere but at least there was a chance. In some when and where, he might live again in a form he''d likely not recognize, in a life that wouldn''t technically be his anymore. Only the vaguest of impressions would be left, buried deep inside the soul core.


    A core drifted nearby. It was once unnaturally fused with his own, unable to fully join due to greater laws of reality but unable to part without destroying a life it was unwilling to harm. Here, the laws were different. It was outside of the laws.


    The remaining emotional impetus of that core burned itself brightly. Giving itself to the core who primally perceived but didn''t understand. Particles that were drifting away began coming back. The energetic kick of the second core sent the first back into a field of some kind, one that reversed what happened to it.


    The second core was caught in the effect as well but it was pulled in a few particles at a time, becoming a part of the first in a way reality would never have allowed. By the point that the spiritual existence was fully encapsulated by structured reality once more, the two cores were only one and that one was accepted. The laws didn''t reject is re-entrance any longer.


    Dust, spirit essence and structure returned. Following that were more complex and then corporeal elements of existence. Unmaking reversed, then death unbecame. A living being was cut and then spliced from one still frame in the stack of spaces known as time and then spliced into another, replacing what had once stood in its place.


    Orison came to in a fight for his life with a black silk purse trying to devour him as he slid painfully back into a reality he''d wished he''d never encountered. During the fight, the capsule floating along with a handful of other items in a space without a plane, opened with a hissing crack. From out of it flew a case containing three black pearls.


    From each of the pearls flew a scroll in some foreign language accompanied by a message. "Paradox protocol activated. Warranty voided. Recall claimed. Dear customer, please avoid future paradoxes resulting from timeline transposition from unregulated sources as this will result in customer service rejection of claim."


    Orison appeared in an ally with a silent explosion of air pressure before his world washed in tightly contained light. As it faded, he noticed that the bogeyman which had only just started to surface, was shredded like confetti and was already dissipating. By his side, a young and wild eyed Zeke in an olive drab army uniform stood bewildered by what had occurred.


    Zeke looked at Orison and said, "You could have let me grab my stuff first."


    Orison gave him a look of disbelief, not knowing whether to laugh or cry as he said, "I didn''t do it. Teaser suit customer service did."


    The young mage took the case out and put on ''swift''. Unlike the first time, the other two didn''t merge with it. Despite that, the activation and forming of his suit was successful. After struggling with it briefly as he hear the approaching scuffle of footsteps, Orison tossed ''Bold'' to Zeke. Unlike Orison, the militant man didn''t have a space to shunt his current clothes into, so they ripped to pieces as a thick, stiffer looking teaser suit took their place.


    Zeke''s surprised exclamation drew the attention of three men beating the stuffing out of a third. As the three men peered down the shadowed alley, they were suddenly overcome with a sense of paranoia and fear. They ran away, leaving their victim to face whatever danger lurked in the darkness, marked by two Caribbean blue dots of light.


    Before approaching Neil, Orison quickly checked his space to see that it was as he remembered it being after waking up in the cabin. There wasn''t any stuff but for the cracked capsule and the mini trainer. There was no sense of any other existences in his space except for some laws that ''seemed'' alive and a sparse collection of plants on his mini plane. By process of elimination, he got the idea that anything that made it to mid dimensional reality wasn''t affected by changes in the low, at least not majorly.


    Everything that he had done while he was here had been undone along with the reversal of time save for those that extended beyond the lower dimension. He suspected that as long as he didn''t cause another exception of paradox by reaching out to the abyssal will orb in any way, that at the right moment, it would go to where it needed to be without any problems and even if Flora didn''t exist yet, that didn''t mean she couldn''t. He was reticent to recreate the other three as they hadn''t made it to the point of being proper personalities anyway and he already had two out in mid dimensional existence somewhere.


    From the information that was given, something had happened to Herne and Flora due to the hunter chasing after something he couldn''t handle. Ivan managed to pass that on before he too met a cruel fate. None of that mattered now but it did change how he felt about Herne and the inevitable request that came a little later due to not using the halberd. Another thing that changed how he felt wasn''t nearly as complicated and far less flattering.


    Inside the capsule were things that would be very useful to him and not so much to Herne but that hadn''t stopped the hunter from taking everything except for the most useless of junk and the plants that Flora had cultivated for him. The hunter was capricious and greedy within the boundaries of what was allowed. Were it not for Flora, there was no doubt in Orison''s mind that Herne would have ''hunted'' him again once he was recovered. Instead of taking on Herne''s services, Orison wood chippered the aspect''s remaining essence through Stag''s mark.


    Briefly acknowledging the gratitude that came through the temporarily strengthened mark, Orison turned his attention back to the outer world. Striding to Neil, the young mage set up a ritual while the man protested weakly. In a few flashes of subdued light, the detective was as good as he could be before diet, exercise or cheat-like medicine could affect any real change.


    As the detective scrabbled to a sitting position, Orison crouched down to eye level and said, "Here''s the deal, Cornelius Jones. I don''t need you but I like what you stand for when you''re not a drunk slob. I''ll come by to visit you soon. By then, make up your mind whether you want to be a bottom feeder whose left alone, a successful and healthy man with a life destroying career or a person who gives up the mundane world for the supernatural one."


    As Orison walked away with Zeke in bemused tow, Neil said, "What will the second and third cost? You can''t expect a man to chose an outfit without being able to see the price tag."


    Orison smiled as he turned back. "One of your best qualities, the ability to think on your feet... Both cost the same thing, friendship and the willingness to throw yourself behind a good cause when you see one. I primarily think of my own cause as the best one but I can accept when opinions differ."


    True to his occupational sickness, Neil continued to pester, Orison until they arrived at the street of East village where Wei''s Apothecary shop resided.


    The young mage said, "Zeke, make sure Neil gets a cab home. I don''t want him on the Tong''s radar."


    The militant man and the detective nearly asked the same question in unison. Orison confirmed that there was a branch of the New Yorkshire tong in Port Haven but said nothing else. Walking away without acknowledging any more of Neil''s endless litany of questions. It belatedly dawned on him that the only reason why Neil didn''t harass him so much in the past was because the detective thought of him as a child to some degree. The only two sacred grounds where he should curb his enthusiastic curiosity, in Neil''s mind, were the secrets of women and children.


    Mr. Wei was immediately intimidated by the helmeted stranger knocking on his door but ultimately opened up when Orison flashed a wad of cash.


    After a brisk round of trade, before walking out, the young mage said, "The Tong needs to reign in Smiley before he draws the winds of the butterfly. He''s bedfellows with the ''new blood'' and will only get more bold with time. Strike down the snake before it becomes a flood dragon. By the way, he''s an traumatically awakened gifted, an augmenter."


    Orison walked out to find Zeke waiting with a cabby that looked like he wanted nothing more than to skip out on this set of customers. With or without a helmet, Zeke was an intimidating guy and Orison wondered how he got the cab to stop in the first place.


    The young mage said, "Grand Marquis, driver... Hey, are you going to get in any trouble for disappearing from where you were?"


    Zeke said, "Not if I can get a hardship leave approved. I have plenty of days saved up to take me to reenlistment time. Depends on how much of a hard*ss my company commander feels like being. An infantry specialist is no prize to worry over. I didn''t...wouldn''t have gone air born until this re-up," whispering, he said, "It was after that I was recruited into black ops and hurt in an explosion."


    Once they were at the hotel and set up for the night, Zeke called his company commander in Nihon. It started out sounding bad but after some dithering and sounding like it broke his heart, Zeke managed to get the captain off his back. It only cost a 200 dollar grocery list worth of stuff Zeke would have to pay through the nose to ship to the other side of the world. The militant man was smiling deviously until he realized that at this point and time, he had a bank account that barely had that much in it.


    Orison waved the concern away as something he could take care of the next day. There were a handful of ways he could raise a small fortune fairly quickly. All of which would have to wait for the next day. Indulging in a little booze and rough housing to blow off the jangled nerves of their ''way past'' near death experience, learning first-hand that Zeke was a light weight agonophiliac in the process, they could ratchet down enough to rest.


    The young mage had never considered himself one to enjoy what he considered chest pounding behavior. However, he had to admit that it was fun clowning around when the other person didn''t get too serious. That Zeke had admitted wanting to recapture some of the late-teen, young adult life that early entry into the military and a combat professional career had robbed him of, made it even more worthwhile. Orison could imagine that Zeke hadn''t been too popular with making friends even before the light disfigurement and off putting aura the same way a pretty girl had a tough time making them. No one likes to hang around people that make them feel inferior except users.


    He could imagine that Zeke didn''t get a much better deal in the military. People who made friends with him were probably more interested in hiding behind him or using him to intimidate others than out of much genuine sentiment. His superiors probably reinforced that isolation by singling out the ''most competent'' guy for the dangerous stuff. After all, it would seem like a bad deal to get too emotionally attached to someone it looked like the top brass had marked for sacrifice.


    Orison reminded himself not to get too wrapped up in his own narrative. There was no denying that Zeke had the makings to be the best friend a person could hope for but he was still a beast of a man. He may be a lion with the ambition to ''lay with the lamb'' but he was still a lion. And nature would insist on having its say from time to time, regardless of what a person desired.

 134 Crawling Chaos 32

    Laying in the privacy of his own suite room, Orison made himself comfortable in a way he''d grown to enjoy while he owned his own house. Still a bit riled, he meditated a bit. Right as he was drifting into trance, he felt a spying presence. It seemed some parts of history were doomed to repeat themselves but the young mage was content to let them play out in drastically different ways.


    If there was anything he had learned from Mark during his time with him, Amber, Peaches and Zimbia, it was how to put on a show that women could enjoy. After all, women were just as human as men and enjoyed visual stimulation as well. Right about the time that Orison was really getting invested in showing off, the spying presence flickered in and out, then suddenly disappeared. He chuckled, thinking that poor Yue got more stimulation than she could handle. With no one to perform for, he cleaned up and entered trance peacefully til morning.


    Guesstimating that it would be an hour or so before Zeke joined the living, the young mage set up a ritual circle and performed a little transcribing from constructed mental pictures of documents and previously scratched notes until he had a small stack. Dividing them into two piles, he took a folder containing advertisements for local attractions and used it for the instruction set showing how to make waterproof mascara and some small skin rejuvenation cream recipes that were sure to be a hit.


    Once Orison heard the shower in Zeke''s room turn on, he started a pot of coffee brewing for him and got a shower himself. Fresh and ready to start the day, they made a circuitous run to create a paper trail for the mage and grabbed some breakfast from Derby''s. Introducing himself as one of Neil''s friend''s kids, he gave a quick brief to Alice and handed her the folder to peruse on her own time. When Rachel came in a bit later, he did the same.


    To keep the time tables about the same, he told the waitress to spend some time familiarizing herself with personal blends she could really get behind before submitting her ideas formally and with more confidence of them being her own besides some little formula that was just a gesture of friendship. He also told her to keep it a secret from her daughter. Whether she did or not was up to her. Those parts back on track, if a little more forced than last time, he made some preparations for various things and to intercept Zora before the woman made her fateful journey in a couple of days.


    Aside from getting some funds, Orison got a good car and threw a chunk of cash into Zeke''s account again. Out of perverse curiosity, he even used Smiley''s discount card that stayed in his wallet for some reason. As much as he despised the man, the gangster really knew how to make a lucrative club. No signs of the hateful dealings and despair inducing drama were in sight. Turns out, Rachel''s daughter was one hell of a singer too.


    "Do you think we could make a road trip to New Yorkshire tomorrow? I probably should get on putting that delivery together and I would love to see my aunt again," Zeke said.


    Orison nodded. "It''ll be late and starting further north but we can do that. Remember the lady that threw the magic stuff on us before dusting? We gotta keep her from becoming a tragedy tomorrow."


    Not wanting to take any risks, they took off and camped out in the car not to far before the jagged boundary Orison once spent nine years stuck in. he didn''t feel as nervous about it as he thought he would but he had no desire to get closer either. Over the course of the night and following morning, no less than eight different cars stopped to ask if they were alright. It made the young mage''s heart warm a bit and feel sad how quickly sentiments could change.


    Around ten, A much younger and vibrant looking Zora came speeding up the straightaway. Orison didn''t yell or wave. He just held up a sign with a person''s name on it that he didn''t know. He didn''t expect that not only would it make Zora screech to a halt, it also made her walk up to the young mage and start choking him, asking where her sister was.


    His response was to activate the helmet and hand her the mini trainer. "You want to know, look at the middle partition. Please don''t mess with the last one. A mutual friend''s life hangs on that one being left alone until the right time."


    Skeptical, she whipped out her cards after backing a safe distance. After drawing a couple and studying them, she looked in the trainer. A minute later, she woodenly handed him back the trainer and went to her car. At first he thought she was going to go in anyway but it turned out she just felt more comfortable bawling her eyes out in her car with doors locked to keep concerned people from disturbing her grief. She even turned up the radio when Orison tried to talk to her.


    Fifteen minutes or so later, she came out of her car and said, "So that''s it? No saved sister. No revenge. We just tuck tail and leave?"


    Orison said, "Future you could only see her past not the alternate past created by my return... I do have a way to get revenge for you but I can only take one of you with me. Unless you have a compelling argument why it should be you, I''m taking Zeke."


    Zora said, "It was my sister."


    The young mage shook his head. "Lots of people have lost loved ones there. I''m asking for a logic reason not an emotion one."


    After mulling it around, she said, "I have the sight. I can predict and find solutions."


    Orison shrugged. "It''s pretty powerful too but more useful for preparation than in the moment crisis. Otherwise you wouldn''t have been trapped there the first time."


    She screamed in rage, cried a little more and nodded. "I can see your point. I want it to hurt. Can you make it hurt?"


    Orison said. "I''m pretty sure it couldn''t hurt more without bale fire from the Pit being involved. Yeah, Ignatius told me the story of his 666th birthday too."


    He took off the over robe and handed it to her. "Keep it safe for me."


    A weak smile peeked through her sadness as she said, "You really are a child about some things. I have to admit it is quite nice."


    The young mage sighed. "It''s a damn shame it''ll choke me going through the boundary and the territory border... Do you know when high tide is?"


    Zora closed her eyes for a moment and said, "A little less than an hour."


    Orison got in the car and took off.


    Before reaching the hated town of his memories, he took a side trip to a private land beach. "Leave the over shirt in the car, Zeke"


    The militant man said, "Won''t I stand out like this?"


    "We''re going to be swimming in and out. I''m hoping we won''t have to deal with locals at all," Orison responded.


    It took a moment to explain a teaser suit''s functions but they arrived at the tidal cave in record time. A little telekinesis went a long way underwater. With Zora''s memories given to him as a ''just in case'', the young mage even knew how to open the door. Although, the word made his mouth feel dirty despite not knowing what it meant.


    Before they went in, Orison dabbed Zeke''s eyelids with blood but it wasn''t as effective as it was for Neil. There was no way of knowing if it was because the militant man was resistant or if becoming what Orison had, some of the mystical effects of his blood changed or diluted in the blending. Either way, he had Zeke focus on his back as they walked callously past the maimed and dying.


    Once they had made it a certain distance down the fleshy tunnel, Orison felt immense danger headed their way. Calling the capsule from his space, the young mage took out an anchor and press made of gold with an enchanted gem embedded in them. They looked like they belonged on an eccentric person''s charm bracelet.


    With a flick of his wrist and a call word from the language of the first family, Orison summoned the items effects. The anchor locked everything into present three dimensional space and sealed it. The second could compress any entity that inherently stressed the space. There were far too many supernaturals that fit that description but that went exponentially for outsiders.


    It did have a limit of one type but that didn''t matter and it was only a one time use item that wouldn''t be effective beyond a certain power threshold anyway. Whatever was at the center of the tunnel would test that limit but Orison was ready to augment it with some elbow grease if needed. What he didn''t expect but should have was that the center of the tunnel was just the core or heart. They were inside of it.


    It didn''t end up mattering. Aside from getting hit by the occasional piece of fleshy debris there wasn''t any danger of being pulled in with it. What was disturbing were the split second glimpses of humans who had become a little too corrupted that got pulled into it too along with corpses riddled with alien worms. The riddle of how a whole town''s opinions could be swayed within several minutes suddenly made sense. The young mage guessed there would be a lot of people with a weeping sore on the back of their necks and a hell of a headache.


    Dashing off, Orison directed Zeke at the one person that looked savable from the four ring sacrifice pillar and actually found two ''digestibles'' that could be saved being relatively fresh to the process. Since the suits gave some augments, they didn''t bother climbing down so much as Zeke jumped first and Orison dropped people to him before jumping himself.


    Feeling extravagant, the young mage pulled out a vellum with a predrawn circle he''d made during prep and summoned the impression of his water elemental. Since it was technically still around but not formed, it could lend itself to his aid in such a way but it was costly to use, one mote per hour. With his previous model he could make a semi permanent golem that would last for a month or more but unfortunately his understanding was measured against mid dimensional standards and all but completely invalidated.


    As the water elemental''s impression aided them in swift water travel it also trickle healed the victims. Being matured in vital water had allowed it to beef up on some ''life'' skills. It was also the only one whose impression could safely be called on at the moment. The fire elemental couldn''t be called fire anymore and its impression would either discharge electricity or try to contain itself, producing toxic levels of radiation. The earth and wind elementals couldn''t be properly called that anymore either but they were harder to define and had become too wrapped up in the inner plane''s makeup to be able to produce impressions for Orison to use.


    All four of them had become something beyond his understanding. They were more a force than a being but that force was sensitive to his needs. It couldn''t deny its nature but it could bend that nature in the most favorable way possible towards their creator. A vague intuition grew in him that they were intermediaries to a mystery that would only be explorable in the future. For now, he was far from being able to touch upon it.


    Even with the help of the summoned impression, it was still a difficult maneuver for two people to bring back three who were unable to assist in any meaningful way. Loading up the injured people into the car as carefully as they could, Orison began wondering where the pursuers were. It wasn''t like last time. There wasn''t a sense that they had to flee for their lives or they wouldn''t escape. It was more like a subtle dread that didn''t get stronger or weaker, just there.


    Since lingering on it wouldn''t help anything, he pushed it to the back of his mind as they made their way back out to where Zora should be waiting. She wasn''t there. Instead there was a bubbling ring in the road where heat had softened the tar and caused it to boil. Fearing jumping to the wrong conclusion, Orison took the ruby ring out of his inventory.


    It was empty of presence. There was no consciousness in the ring and there was no ifrit in the main stone. It wasn''t a proper conduit anymore either. All the books and enchantment supplies were still there, however.


    With people in need of medical care that the young mage could or would not provide for various reasons, he did a quick sweep of her car and found his over robe. On it was a note. Switching places with Zeke, he let the man drive while he read it.


    It read, "If you''re reading this, it meant that my husband wasn''t affected by the transposition. Either that or the object which once held him could not do so. I''m taking my chances to call on his true name. If you are wondering why I did not wait for you, the reason should be obvious with some thought. There is a chance he doesn''t have his memories. I believe I will be fine but you and what you carry are too fine a prize to let slip by on a flimsy story of friendship he has not felt himself.


    "With my sister gone and nothing else to live for here, I have decided to embrace the small happiness my time with him has brought me. He will be poorer than the man I knew but this will perhaps allow me to stand beside him better and help him acquire what he needs. It may have been fun getting pampered but he really doesn''t know when enough is enough!


    "Do not linger in this world... Do what needs done and be on your way. The dark tide will close faster than it did before. There is no more for me to do or say -Father''s blessings and Mother''s love be with you, -Zora."


    Even though it soaked his back seat, Orison kept the impression out to provide stabilizing assistance to the people they had rescued until it had ran out of power on its own. Feeling a little tired, more emotionally than physically, he tranced out a nap on the way to Port Haven. The low grade dread built to a point that he came to from trance screaming for Zeke to pull over.


    Orison got out of the car, looking it over and seeing nothing wrong. He checked on the rescues, in the trunk and even on top. Nothing stood out. Then it hit him. Running away from the car into an empty field, the young mage pulled out the charm shaped like an apple press. It was hot enough to scald and shaking.


    With nothing better to use, Orison dumped out the capsule into his space and threw the press into it. Moments later the capsule shuddered and began to ooze a tar-like substance from the seal. He took the gem out that was once attached to the press. Inside it''s onyx depths, there was a white dot. Orison put it away and considered leaving the capsule in the field before lamenting how irresponsible and cruel that would be.


    Orison considered it for a moment and since they were passing through Rose Cliff, he thought there might be a solution to safe disposal there. No one was more environmentally conscious in his mind than some goddess worshiping witches. Making a mental joke, he thought there might be some way to dilute corruption with garlic and pepper to keep leaf eating bugs away or a blend with compost to keep a flower bush healthy and blooming all year long in a greenhouse.


    Zeke asked, "What was that about?"


    Orison replied, "You saw how small the thing was I used to suck in all that stuff, right? Well, it got done getting the good stuff out and the stuff that was left behind was just kind of chilling in the charm as the magic started expiring. It wouldn''t have been so bad but I thought it worked a bit differently than it did or I could have been draining off the sludge while it was being made... It almost turned into a corruption bomb."


    The militant man chuckled nervously. "That sounds bad. How about reading the directions a little more carefully next time."


    The young mage gave a saintly smile and flashed three sheets of vellum with cramped writing on it. "The best item descriptions are a whole two sentences long! How could there possibly be any missed, useful information?" Orison sobered into a frown. "I do the best I can, mostly through study and reference to similar things. There''s bound to be more items with hidden threats like that in this stuff. Consider it a lesson learned and I''ll try to do better."


    Zeke glanced over in concern. "Hey, it wasn''t that serious of a criticism. On any given day of the week, smarter and wiser men than us die for dumb reasons."


    Orison sighed. "I have enough supernatural edition Darwin award nominations as it is."


    Laughing, Zeke said, "Darwin awards... What a gas! Sounds like something you''d have to die to get nominated for and as far as I can see...Well, I guess it is possible to die and still survive it, isn''t it? How many times have you died?"


    The feeling of emotional tiredness growing just a little, Orison said, "Three. Four if you count the first time twice... and some would."

 135 Crawling Chaos 33

    Zeke glanced over at Orison, concern a little deeper. "How did you? I only want to hear if you want to say."


    Staring out the window with a haunted look in his eyes, Orison said, "I dropped some books, very mean books. Another me sneezed around the same time. Ultimately, one side''s soul was popped like a overfilled balloon while the other one died of a brain aneurysm. The second or third time, depending on how you count it, I was vaporized in a magical explosion I initiated to take a powerful enemy with me.


    "You were with me on the last round... Not even sure what would be considered the killing blow but I was pretty much a dead man walking, crawling at any rate, by the time we got where we were going... What did happen there by the way?"


    Zeke gripped the steering wheel with whitening hands as he shrugged. "I remember thinking purple, because ice cream doesn''t have bones. The last relatively clear though I had was throwing you over to the counter to order our meal for us... I mean, tossing you over to the device. You were kind of impaled on one of it''s prongs I think. I''m pretty sure that''s what it was. It''s not what I saw but that is one image I won''t share even if it was true.


    "Seeing you weren''t able to read the menu, a kind jellyfish came over to help you complete your order... I''m not sharing the crazy because that''s what I believe happened. I''m just thinking maybe it can help you figure it out."


    Orison said, "I think what happened was that one of the creatures that followed us in was weak enough to trick into doing what needed to be done. If that''s true, there''s a person out there who might be nuttier than a fruit cake or completely normal but remembering what it was like to be full dark thirty. Those are the better possibilities."


    Neither one of them said another word until Zeke instructed the young mage on how to do what he called an ''anonymous donation to the hospital''. He didn''t want to talk about how he knew back door procedures to get people medical treatment but it only cost a couple hundred bucks to get the cooperation needed and a couple of names dropped that kept that cooperation quite. After letting Zeke know where Neil''s office was, they lapsed back into silence again.


    When Zeke pulled into a blind spot behind a condemned building, Orison was confused until the ex-soldier half dragged him into a hug. It was strange and awkward but after a half minute some dust or something got in Orison''s eyes. It must have been something in the air because Zeke''s eyes looked a little irritated too. A half hour or so later, they repacked a more manageable emotional load away while Zeke pulled a clean t-shirt over the top of his teaser suit and Orison rinsed the top of his head off with some water.


    Zeke said. "I''m not. I hurt some good people learning how to. Well, I guess they aren''t actually hurt anymore, right? That''s one good thing. Count the blessings and all."


    The closer to Zeke he became, the more Orison wondered if what made him interested in recruiting the guy wasn''t so much the parts that resembled Claudius but the parts that resembled Gan that weren''t so easy to see. The reluctance to get close but the fierce loyalty and care for those that made it over the wall weren''t things a person would typically know just by talking with someone for a few minutes but when the conditions were right, it could be felt, the potential noticeable.


    Knocked out of his thoughts by the sight of a familiar car parked outside of Neil''s building while Zeke looked for a place to park, Orison had the ex-soldier stop and let him out. Less than a minute later, the young mage walked into an office that the door was already open on. Inside, an angry Smiley with a bruise on his jaw was taking a baseball bat to Neil''s foot. Judging by the whimpers and blood, it had already been done a few times.


    As Smiley turned and locked eyes with Orison a smirk crossed his face. "Are you the brat that sicked the Tong on me? Dumb move, kid."


    Unknown to him, the young mage''s eyes were pushing off so much spirit essence glow, they were spiting it.


    Though his men wished they were elsewhere, Smiley wasn''t the least bit intimidated. "So what kind of creepy crawly are you then?"


    Orison didn''t answer. He responded with as powerful a spike of will driven intent as he was capable before seeing it bounce off the man and head straight back at him. In more of a reflexive intuition than any conscious act to do so, the young mage sounded himself with his space and lunged at Smiley. The arrogant man''s smirk never faded even as he saw himself sinking into the person shaped cutout of reality.


    A moment later, inside of Orison''s space, the gangster let himself be chewed on for half a second before activating some kind of curse. Faster than Orison could comprehend, he was impossibly inside himself before the laws of existence invalidated what had happened. The no longer smiling Smiley was back inside where he was minced within moments, shocks and splashes of dark magic dissipating into the turbulent outer rim of the young mage''s space.


    Before they could run, the young mage locked them in place and took his time filling the accompanying goons'' heads with murderous intentions towards their fellow gang members. Greed, envy and lust made for a fertile breeding ground for such seeds to sprout with little effort on Orison''s part. The most difficult was convincing them to take credit for Smiley''s demise but once he linked it with expectations of fear and obedience, they tuned to it quickly. When he let them go, he only hoped they''d last long enough to do real harm before they turned on each other.


    Zeke came barreling in to see that the action was over. Looking disappointed, he turned to shut the door so the young mage''s healing ritual could be done without witness. It actually ended up taking some effort. Neil''s ankle bone was all but powder and tenderized meat. The most fortunate thing was after the last hit Smiley delivered, the detective had returned to the semi conscious state that he had at least been in once before.


    Tempted to be angry at the Tong for its perceived failure, Orison had to remind himself that it was a group steeped in tradition and heritage. That almost always equaled slow and filled with nearly unlimited ennui driven observation. It took an extinction level event to light a fire under a dinosaur like that. Now if it was something within established procedure, it would move like greased lightning.


    "Are you okay, Mr. Jones?" A child''s voice said through the door.


    Orison said, "He''s fine now. I''m just helping him with a sprained ankle. Those guys shoved him around a little... Are you Jimmy?"


    Defensively, the child''s voice on the other side of the door said, "Who wants to know?"


    The young mage nodded for Zeke to open the door. To keep the kid''s eyes from fixing on Zeke first, Orison waved at him. It took some persuading to keep the boy from yelling for help or running but eventually he even managed to get Jimmy to ''help'' Neil while he and Zeke went to clean up the ''mouse remains'' splattered by the bat Orison brought back out.


    Orison used said bat to break the mini trainer and as Jimmy looked at him wide eyed, wondering why he randomly destroyed something, a lash of spiritual force struck into the poor boy from the broken trainer. With a child unconscious, things got a little trickier when the other two ''J''s showed up.


    The oldest ran up to Orison threateningly and said, "What did you do to my little brother!?"


    Equal parts anger and fear, James stood in front of his brother protectively. The young mage briefly wondered how the relationship between the two became so twisted that his older brother would steal his girlfriend but when it came to girls there didn''t really need to be a reason.


    Sighing, Orison shrugged and said, "I think he passed out when the mouse''s remains got scooped up. I''m not really sure."


    Jacob stood by the door, ready to scream or run for help as James smacked his little brother''s face a few times, telling him to wake up. Dazed, Jimmy came to but he wasn''t up to moving on his own volition yet and when James lifted him up, he locked eyes with Zeke. The boy''s pupils shrank to dots and his legs turned weak, slumping to the floor.


    Imagining who knows what horrors were on the other side of the door, Jacob screamed as he ran down the hall.


    The young mage rubbed his head and said, "Do you mind stopping your friend from bringing down the whole building. We''re Neil''s friends. I can''t believe someone nearly as old as me acting like such a chicken from just looking at somebody."


    Red rushed to James''s face as he turned to Orison and said a little breathlessly, "I ain''t no chicken!"


    "Then prove it by keeping Jacob from riling everybody up for no good reason. We''re trying to get Neil''s ankle taken care of here and now god and everybody are going to be poking their noses in here," Orison said.


    James stood back up and shakily said, "I''m not leaving my brother here alone with you."


    Orison rolled his eyes and waited for ''the adults'' which would be there any minute whether James told them nothing was wrong or not.


    "What are you doing to Detective Jones and that kid!?" the first rabble rouser said.


    Before other voices could join the first as more rubberneckers came out, Orison said, "I just ran off Smiley and his crew. Where was your outrage then? If you were too much of a turtle to poke your nose into people''s business then, where would you find the guts to start shouting at someone who has the ability to send him packing? F***ing idiot!"


    Suddenly tired of trying to play nice with a bunch of people who suddenly got brave because of numbers, he added, "Go home before I have this building condemned and evict you onto the streets. The person I''m trying to help here is one of the few reasons this building wasn''t already shut down. I can f***ing change that!"


    Whether it was the touch of supernatural convincing in his tone or the evil looking mound of muscle, the crowd started dispersing, evaporating the nerve of the few more outspoken ones. When Jimmy and James''s parent came running in like they were getting ready to ford the lake of fire for their children, Orison felt like he finally understood something. People can act like they don''t care and do dumb things but tragedy and outside threat have the potential to bring out the best in people.


    He clearly remembered that the boy''s parents half hoped they''d get abducted for a few days sometimes but when it came down to it, they were good parents when it mattered. Nobody was perfect and this family was more flawed than most but they did stick together. At least until an older brother broke his younger brother''s heart.


    Voice thick with subdued anger, fear and worry, the father asked, "What happened to our son?"


    Thinking about it, there was no way Orison was going to be able to take Jimmy with him at his young age without a lot of head and heartache, which meant a large chance of him being exposed as supernatural. Orison had to do what he could in as little time as possible to help prepare them. He desperately hoped that whatever Zora had seen that lead to this outcome meant that Jimmy would be future Jimmy in young body. Other outcomes weren''t as pleasant.


    "Have James leave and close the door. This involves things too big for kids but Jimmy didn''t really have a choice," the young mage said as he scrambled to mix a story of lies and truth together as fast as he could.


    The father stayed as he ushered out his oldest son and wife. She wanted to stay but the man explained that if it was something damning at least one of them could be spared for the children''s sake if nothing else. Reluctantly, she stepped out.


    Orison spun a tale of cult activity among crime organizations. Smiley starred as a villain and his own son as a victim circumstance. He demonstrated a touch of something that could be played off if really scrutinized but convincing enough to keep the man off balance for the moment while they waited for Jimmy to wake up. It didn''t end up taking that long.


    As the boy''s eyes opened up, Orison took the lead before the father could and tested the waters. When the boy exhibited signs of knowing things from his future self but disassociated from them, the young mage realized what a huge mistake it had been to follow the last part of the instructions instead of finding his own solution. It belatedly occurred to him that they had just wanted to find a way to save Jammers and hadn''t given a whole lot of thought to the logistics of anchoring the familiar to a child version of his master. That meant there was no option BUT to take the boy with them.


    Orison looked sadly at the boy whose life he had likely just ruined and said, "There''s one bad path you can take or I have two options I can offer. You can try to hide him and the burden of a gift he now carries which will inevitably be impossible, bringing untold dangers your family can''t even begin trying to avoid. I can place him in protection with a group of people who have experience keeping gifted children safe or you can entrust him to Neil and I can offer assistance to Jimmy through him. Be aware that Neil can''t stick around either but at least he''s someone you know."


    Jimmy spoke up to fill the silence as his father stood in emotional indecision. "I need to go with them, dad. I- I can give you the winning-"


    Orison fixed Jimmy with a stare and shook his head, then honed his will onto Jimmy''s dad and said, "Your youngest son has to go into witness protection with Neil. He''ll take good care of your boy. Here''s ten thousand dollars. Take your family and get them to Pecan Grove in Knightsville, South Caroline...Leave TODAY. Once you''re there, approach a girl named Zimbia and ask to be introduced to Granny Georgia. She''s a woman who specializes in helping mundane families who are attached to gifted in the greater supernatural community."


    Orison gave an address and some more minor instructions which he wrote down before removing subtle compulsion. He sent Jimmy with his father to go pick up what odds and ends the boy might want and let him have some time to say goodbye... It was a new low point for Orison but he''d warned future Jimmy. He hoped that past Jimmy would be able to understand but how could he expect a child not to resent being separated from his family, no matter what memories of the future he might possess.


    Neil stirred towards the end of the speech. The detective took it in stride and collected his meager belongings as well without seeming like he was holding a grudge. He had planned on taking option two but with the way things had played out and a decent grip of how the world worked, he took it the way he''d taken every other bit of ill luck in his life. He sighed, took a shot of whiskey and started formulating his life around the new problem.


    The lighter heart he had came to Neil''s apartment with was once again burdened with guilt and pain. The sound of Jimmy''s soft sobbing in the back seat was like timed ice pick strikes to his self confidence. He was so wrapped up in that feeling that they almost drove right past Rose Cliff before Orison called for them to stop. Odd thing was, there was no ward. After asking around for a bit, he found out that the owners of the botanical garden and several of their friends moved three days prior. Confused and even more depressed, he rallied the group after a somber late lunch, early dinner.


    Right as they were leaving town, a vaguely feminine raspy voice whispered to his soul, "Think no more of Flora for now, Father. She is here with me, so too are the circle and the rest of her spiritual kin not of you. What little tragedy may exist within that is not your burden nor blame. Offer the corruption to me if it pleases you. I have use of it if you do not."


    With some trepidation and hoping it wasn''t a mistake to do so, Orison took out the capsule and let out a shaky breath as it disappeared into the air.


    "Please don''t shake anymore of my faith in myself by betraying the trust I want to place in you. If you really see me as a father then that is all I truly desire from you in return, daughter," Orison practically begged from his heart.

 136 Crawling Chaos 34

    After an impromptu shopping trip, everyone changed into nice clothes and Zeke dropped the other three off at the Saint George Hotel before heading off to see his aunt and take care of the bribe to his commanding officer. Luxury for dollar, it had to be at least three times better than Port Haven''s best hotel and even had a specialty saltwater swimming pool among other not as common amenities. The absolutely massive four room suite wasn''t much more pricey than the two room suite either.


    Seeing no reason not to, Orison purchased some swimming suits and they went to enjoy said pool. Leaving Jimmy with Neil, the young mage even tried to get some equilibrium by skulking off to the steam room to sweat out some misery. That effort ended up being aborted fairly quickly when a movie producer started making overtures at him. He didn''t feel any weird vibes but the guy was fairly taken with the idea that Orison had what it took to be big and wasn''t under the impression that no wasn''t a soft start negotiation. The man looked genuinely dumbfounded when Orison left.


    A young man that had been in the steam room at the time rushed to catch up with the young mage and said, "He didn''t understand that a personality that screams confidence but not old money wouldn''t want what he has to offer...He doesn''t know where that confidence comes from. Don''t worry. Whatever brought you here, this is a safe place but that has a limit of fourteen days. That was one of the promises made between the ''genius loci'' and the person who built this place."


    After saying his bit, the man stepped back off the elevator and let Orison be on his way. Back in the sanctuary of the suite, he stepped into his room and decided to dedicate his evening and early night to making medicine. About an hour in, there was a knock at the door. Without taking his eyes off his work, he invited Jimmy in.


    The boy sat on Orison''s bed and watched him work for awhile before he said, "I know I didn''t take it well but I want to thank you."


    Orison''s movements became a little sluggish but he''d done what he was doing enough times to not make mistakes of any unrecoverable nature. "Thank me for what? I made a mess of it thinking everything would just magically be fine because an admittedly good but not omniscient fortune teller told me to do it. I am far beyond the point where I can use naivety as an excuse."


    Jimmy said, "Dad and mom have some serious problems. Shaking them up and sending them to some new place might be the best thing that could have happened to them. My big brother''s always looked out for me, maybe a little too much but maybe he''ll have a chance to finish being a kid instead of having to step up to care for me and my baby sister that''ll be born in another eight months.


    "I was scared and confused. I still am but I just wanted you to know that I''m glad you came back for me. I wasn''t very happy before you and I had a lot of fun after you disappeared. The me then didn''t listen to you and tried to live normal even though he hated it. I don''t have to do what he did... I, uh, said a lot more than I meant to. I just wanted to say thank you and that it''s what I would have wanted if you had asked. That''s all."


    Finding a good stopping point, Orison turned to look Jimmy in the eye. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better... Unless you can at least survive until I leave and still be able to tell me what you said now when that time comes, this isn''t something I can just be okay with. You are twelve and a twelve year old with a grown man''s memories doesn''t make you grown, not really.


    "You''ll get there fast but you''ve also lost something special to get the special I gave you. Depending on how things go, I could have done it later and you could have had both. Then again, maybe not but now it''s certain that you... Sorry. Here you are, trying to make me feel better and I''m trying to tell you why you should feel worse. That''s not exactly helpful, is it?"


    Jimmy forced a smile through misty eyes and said, "You''re a worry wart. Maybe I would be too if I were you. I got my hands full being me... I''m gonna sneak into stuff and be whatever a twelve year old with a grown man''s memories is. Have fun being an old prune in a man''s body or whatever it is you are."


    Orison gave him a saintly smile before wrestling Jimmy down and force feeding him the infamous primer draught that another Neil of another time learned to dread but appreciate.


    A vague look of recognition flitted across Jimmy''s face. "Wait, I know what this is. It''s halfway to nine! I''m going to be up all night! That''s just mean, plain mean."


    The young mage said, "It''s not my fault you grew up on processed meat, canned food and preservative soaked snacks. I''ve improved it some. You''ll only be up half the night... If it makes you feel better, tell Neil I have something to discuss with him and know that misery will have company."


    In an effort to not waste time, the traditional regiment was condensed from a two week course down to four days with two of them being spent naked and unconscious in a bathtub, occasional showers to rinse them off. Orison wondered briefly why Neil went along with things so passively when he practically fought tooth and nail before. Then it dawned on the young mage that he had improved the detective''s life pretty well before bringing things up last time.


    Although it was a joke that had been played off, Orison wondered if Neil''s comment about how bad off he had been, mental state wise, when they first met was actually understated. The young mage had most definitely been more candid and less round-about this time too. The only problem was, the way things were being done now was how a person made a loyal subordinate, not raised a friend into a companion that was willing and capable to fight side by side.


    Zeke wasn''t idle during that time. Through discrete channels, the ex-soldier was contacting people and wiring funds to separate places for materials. That the man knew names and code words that had those receipts and transactions erased as soon as they were completed was a bit frightening but incredibly useful. Since they were using a black ops distribution system Zeke called ''Ghost Trail'' with their own funds, not even the people who made it would be able to catch and trace the discrepancies for years. That''s assuming anyone would ever bother to look when it didn''t involve sensitive materials and supplies.


    Aside from alchemy and a little enchanting, Orison also leveraged some future knowledge for more funds. A series of micro transactions and a little fudging with gambling translated into a lot of resources that never even had the chance to consolidate before they were distributed back out for various purposes. People who needed things at certain times would find them suddenly available and certain less than reputable entities would be catalyzed to return favors at opportune moments.


    Whether real or imaginary, Keita''s whisper about not needing many keys but only the one that opened the obstacle in front, stuck with the young mage. He leaned on and exercised the principle on behalf of several people to aid those who he thought well of and to bring an avalanche of misery on the few he despised. Sadly, there was only so much that could be counted on before butterfly effects ruined the clear picture he could take advantage of.


    That point was driven home on the morning of their fifth day in the Saint George Hotel when two bets Orison had placed, lost. And a stock that should have gave a triple return, only gave a fifty percent increase. Even if they had been discrete nibbles and treats handed out here and there, an accumulation of three days worth of tampering was already muddying the course of things and those effects would spread out.


    As low key as they tried to be, on a personal level, his group wasn''t one that blended well. Orison called a halt to their operations and decided to pack up once he felt the slightest hint of gnawing paranoia. A few balls were dropped but the design focused on greatest to least importance order and they had began straying into ''not really important at all'' territory anyway.


    Six days later, the group of four were leaving the coast of Floridia for the Western Keys, a collection of islands that would be their last brush with civilization for some time. Thinking back over their near week of travel, Orison marveled at all the ingenious ways the ''Ghost Trail'' stowed the goods they picked up along the way. Only on two separate occasions were there snags in the pickup. Both were easily avoided surveillance meant to create a modicum of future accountability but that would mark red flags for ''quality control'' to get curious about later.


    Between government and secret societies, one had little options on what to do if avoiding involvement and scrutiny were desired. Fortunately, Orison had a memory map and planned on cheesing the crap out of it. He also didn''t plan on sticking around for ages like last time. Zora''s warning aside, he had other places he wanted to be. Between his current time and the best chance to get off this world there were two opportunities to be exploited as well.


    With a warning to enjoy themselves as much as possible before there would be a ''significant social dry spell'', Orison set his group on a loose leash. On the three main islands, they spent five days on the first, three on another. And in the dark of night, he and Zeke secretly ferried them to yet another where they spent a week. Despite all the subterfuge, the young mage felt a sense of approaching trouble a day before they were supposed to leave.


    It didn''t feel as bad as the paranoia feeling but it did represent some kind of loss or inconvenience of a high order. The remaining instinct from his Rithus inheritance wasn''t that sharp, even after Orison had tried to resurrect it a little. If it was strong enough to feel, it was important.


    He thought he had managed to dodge well enough before sharing a rental on a fishing boat that contained an old couple and two of the husband''s old friends. The sense that there were more people in the cabin below them proved him wrong. A man and a woman came up to the deck. Trailing behind the woman were the recognizable forms of Jacob and James.


    The man was a devil, in the literal sense, disguised as a debonair Wall Street shark. The woman was human but only barely so. She had tipped the scales that Zora had dangerously flirted with, completely. On the outside, she was a dark haired glamour queen that looked like she had stepped from the covers of a thirties magazine, dating the time of her fall from humanity''s grace.


    The ''devilish'' man spoke first. "You know why we are here, right?"


    The man was looking at Orison with no doubt the young mage was the right one to talk to. Cluing the woman in, she also focused on him.


    Orison sighed. "Considering the lovely patina of curse energy flowing around your female companion, your devil may care attitude and the two kids behind you, I''d say that flesh peddler Smiley''s untimely disappearance?"


    The woman said, "Now, you just know we''re going to have to make an example out of you, honey. Nothing personal, mind."


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "None taken. Forg-"


    The young mage didn''t get to deliver a witty comeback that day. He didn''t even have time to give a look of condescending pity he planned on delivering at the right time. Retribution was too swift.


    Whispered prayers behind him reached a fevered pitch as three old men and an old woman wore a much more literal ''armor of God'' after some scripture quoting of Ephesians. The devilish man literally withered like a salted slug as the four retirees pointed golden swords at him with shields raised before them. The fate of the devil in disguised was all but sealed the second he ''jumped'' onto the boat.


    No less in agony and the focus of Orison''s attention due to the two boys within arm''s reach of her, the woman was in spiritual battle. Sadly whether in wisdom, power or wiles, the woman wasn''t a match for Granny Georgia. And by the sound of the ghostly wailing mixed with echoes of rhythmic chest thumping, the old lady was p*ssed.


    "Papa Legba, the darkness has raked its claws at your children. Ayizan, they snatched the babes from boughs of your fierce arms. Loco, they left their muddy prints in the garden of your house!" The old lady Orison only knew of by the nearly fearful but awed whispers of Zimbia and Peaches during pillow talk, howled into the air several hundred miles away.


    Those words weaved with magic and faith struck the curse twister in front of Orison with no less biblical wrath than the devil by her side received. Her skin cracked and blistered. Her bones broke. The curses and charms that bent the force back at the old woman merely folded and struck her twice.


    Freed from ensorcellment, James looked around in confusion for half a second before rushing to his little brother. Jacob stood frozen in panic. Neil, who had been sneaking up from behind snatched the petrified boy out of harm''s way.


    As the four retired ''crusaders'' finished slaying the devil and casting it back to whatever hell would take in the spiritual remains, Granny Georgia symbolically reached out and ripped what remained of the dying curse twister''s powers and used it to pull the boys that had been snatched back to her. Neil, who was trying to shield Jacob from the grizzly sight of the ghastly remains of the woman, was pulled with him. For reasons Orison could only guess at, the power snatched Jimmy but left James behind.


    Staring in confusion at where his brother had disappeared, he looked to the nicer old people for answers first.


    The woman coughed politely and said, "You''re standing on my rain jacket, young man."


    James apologized and picked it up, dusting it off a couple of times before he handed it to her. Everyone then looked at Orison who was looking off into the distance with a frustrated and defeated look on his face.


    Zeke said, "Our rental buddies would like a word with you."


    Orison turned to everyone. "I''m sure you''d like an explanation but we''re going to be hitting a rough patch of supernatural weather in about eight minutes. We should get below deck."


    Offering no other word, the young mage walked down. Zeke fell behind. Torn for a moment, James followed them instead of sticking around with the four retirees. Before his foot hit the floor off the last step, James was assaulted by a wet suit.


    "What is this?" the boy said.


    Orison depressingly sighed out, "It''s a concept that won''t officially exist for a few years and was going to be your little brother''s legacy. Right now, you need to put it on for protection."


    A few more accessories both of a mundane and magical nature were passed around.


    James looked over himself in the mirror. "Hey, this is pretty spiffy. Can I keep it?"


    Orison, who was currently getting undressed with Zeke said offhandedly, "Sure. Why not."


    James looked them over with wariness and comparative curiosity before the two young men were abruptly covered with their teaser suits. Suddenly James wasn''t interested in comparing body parts but equipment, obviously finding his lacking.


    "Why do I have this instead of one of those?" James said, a little surly.


    Zeke said, "Little man, you SHOULD be asking different questions. We are about to be swimming for our lives in a few minutes."


    "Do they know?" James pointed up to towards the older folks still on the deck or in the steering box.


    Orison sighed. "They already know enough but probably cling to the hope that they can do something to save the situation."


    The boy popped off, "If it was that bad, why is the boat so calm. In the pictures, we''d be sloshing and banging around."


    Zeke said, "They''re using everything they''ve got to keep us pointed at the swell. You feel that lightheaded sensation mixed with heavy feet?... Yeah, here in just a little bit it''s going to be headed the other way. Then there will be plenty of slosh and bang for you."


    Almost as soon as Zeke was done talking, there was a brief stillness before they and everything else in the cabin that wasn''t secured started lightly floating up. Orison snatched James to him while Zeke wrapped himself around the two of them as tightly as he could. Four breaths after they were floating, Orison put the best telekinetic shielding around them that he could and held it for the six seconds it took for their small wood paneled room to turn into a mess of splinters and rolling water.

 137 Crawling Chaos 35

    While Zeke finished dragging the unconscious James to the modular shelter Orison had finished setting up. They entered and closed the door to wait out the rest of the storm.


    "You were wrong, by the way." Orison said.


    Zeke looked at him in confusion. "About what?"


    The young mage said, "They were swept off the boat not but about thirty seconds after we went below. Why do you think I was in such a hurry to get down there?"


    Zeke said, "Then I''m the one who''s confused. How was the boat so steady and pointed towards the swell?"


    Orison said, "They were old and powerful. One made a ''calm the seas and storms'' effect, keeping us sitting pretty. The couple pooled their spiritual resources to create a thought form summon called guardian angel. That was what steered the boat. What swept them off of it was whatever the fourth one did... The survivor''s story didn''t include it.


    "It might be a little mean spirited but they aren''t exactly nice people just because they do good deeds. Temple knights are righteous but they''re also judgmental. They''re also not above interpreting doctrine to the advantage of their organization. Not to mention, the survivor was one of the first wave to hunt down Ignatius.


    "To be fair, it''s not as if the ifrit was some kind of good guy but he hadn''t really done anything outside the gray. He was good to us and that might have been circumstantial but I don''t weigh things like that. As my retainer and Zora''s husband, he was a friend. My friend that they managed to kill the second try. I don''t hate them enough to hunt them down but they''re no friends of mine."


    While they waited, they switched to teaser suit incognito style and switched out James'' wet suit for an enchanted incognito armor set that Orison had made for Jimmy but was waiting til now to give. By the time that James came around to the land of the living, a bruised and weakened middle aged man made his way to the module. The young man almost laughed at the despairing face of the man when he saw the people behind the door.


    After going through a round of explanation, or intentional avoidance, the older man said, "I don''t mind being the lookout by the beach while you two explore but you should leave the boy here. It''ll be safer for him."


    Orison quipped, "That is circumstantial safety at best but I leave it up to him with one provision. If he decides to stay with you, make him a disciple. He needs supernatural prowess for safety''s sake as well."


    The man looked dubiously at the expectant boy and said, "So if he went with you, he''d get inducted?"


    Somewhat angrily, the man said, "My choice is to either watch as an innocent gets stained in some heathen color or take him into the bosom of the order with no ecclesiastical training or test of faith?"


    Without so much as blinking, Orison said, "Yup."


    The man looked at James and said, "The training will be harsh and the discipline harsher. If you do not hold metal and a good heart capable of devotion to righteousness, you will fail and possibly die."


    James looked at Orison like he was waiting for a counter offer.


    The young mage said, "If you follow me, I''ll give you power but no matter what you''re made of you might still die. Who knows what this island hides. Hell, we might die... Oh, and Zeke will be in charge of your martial training."


    For whatever reason, James ended up choosing them.


    Orison thought, "Damn you, old man. Couldn''t you have hid the condescension in your eyes just a little bit better."


    With two days of rain and two of sunlight plus the occasional dowsing of water, James was submitted to the ''four days of hell'' induction method. The one that Orison had devised in the St George hotel. Except instead of a bathtub, the boy was left outside on a tilted plank while Zeke and Orison took turns watching over him. The enchanted equipment, minus the bottoms, kept exposure to the elements from being any real problem and oddly seemed to temper the process quite well.


    Despite economic use, that was the end of the inert spirit mushrooms for the time being as well. It would be awhile til there would be more. Not that Orison was intending to induct anymore people anyway.


    Out of the pack that Orison had Zeke carry for show, he left the man some provisions. Out of some weird sympathy compulsion he ''found'' a couple of books and a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle for the man. They were Neil''s impulse buys from a used book store. The time they''d be spending there couldn''t be considered that long but alone, it would be a form of torture.


    Even though Orison said they would be back around a month later if they didn''t find anything, it was a blatant lie. It was also a lie that the modular shelter was something that had been in the cabin but since no one had the opportunity to look around in it too much, the man didn''t know any better. There was a small guilty pleasure rush in seeing how uncomfortable the man felt at being left such a beneficial thing not realizing it was brought only to weather the first few days comfortably.


    On their first day in the bush, James asked, "I''m gifted now, like the other kids at Granny Georgia''s, right? What can I do?"


    Orison said, "It''s hard to tell. It''ll take a little time for your body to spread the essence around, find its grooves. From what I can gather, it follows nature for the most part. Unless you come from a heritage of some kind, it could be anything really. Cross your fingers for a latent awakening like Zeke had.


    "Before you ask, it''s rude to poke into other people''s gifts. Also, have other people introduce you from now on. Certain supernaturals and gifted can use a name freely given against you, even a nickname."


    James asked, "Why did you have to take my little brother? He could have come with us since Granny Georgia could keep us safe."


    Orison said, "Granny Georgia is a good second choice. I feel better knowing if that''s where he''ll be, Neil can help out. Having some responsibility will do the detective a lot of good."


    "That doesn''t really tell me why-" James was cut off by a glare from Orison.


    Relenting a little, the young mage said, "Your brother has a special kind of gift. It''s useful but not overly good at keeping someone safe. It''s the kind of gift that gets people exploited." He thought to himself, "And I''m not talking about Jammers. Although, there''s plenty to exploit there too. No, it''s that damn knowledge of future events and secrets. I still have no idea what his personal gift is, either."


    Once they were a reasonable distance from the beach, Orison directed Zeke to piggy back ride James and they took off with serious intent to cover ground. There was little of interest or note in the outer circle of the island. More importantly, the faster they put distance between themselves and the man at the foliage line, the more time they had to be cautious later. After all, the man could change his mind at any time and start following or making his own way in.


    Orison darted through the trees and scouted while Zeke adjusted path according to the young mage''s direction. James marveled vocally at them both for the first hour and then was silent for the second. By the third hour he started complaining about being sore and Zeke looked like he could use a breather.


    When James tearfully peeled his pants off after Orison notice how much pain he seemed to be in, the young mage winced at the bruises and blistered chafing. Unwilling to waste time on the medicine he had to take care of things or time and material intensive ritual work healing, the young mage took out a crystal tincture bottle from the capsule supplies and placed a drop under the boys tongue. Within the short time it took to eat a large handful of walnuts and jerky, James was pulling his pants back on with a smile of relief after they were cleaned of blister seepage and a little watery blood.


    Orison said, "I didn''t think that through enough. We''ll take a break every hour and I''ll give you an ointment you can put on at each break to keep that from happening again."


    James said, "To tell the truth, it didn''t hurt that bad until the air hit it. The big sunburn blisters I got last year hurt more."


    Zeke said, "It''s the next morning that hurts the worst."


    Orison said, "Not an issue. If we''re ready?"


    After that, James and Zeke got one hour breaks and on the third, Orison rubbed some of the ointment on Zeke''s sides and lower back. Since the ex-soldier was practically being used as a mount, when he asked for a short lower back massage, Orison relented with a grimace but he quickly had a change of heart after feeling the knots and inflammation in Zeke''s muscles. He was pushing them too hard and they were letting him do it because they expected him to know what was best.


    "Enough speed run. We''re walking manual for the next bit until camp," Orison said.


    Zeke looked at him in concern and said, "As much as we were killing it today, can we afford the time?"


    The young mage replied, "I know I made it seem like a do or die but the truth is, best time possible isn''t the top priority. I just want to make sure that we have room for error. I pushed you two hard today but tomorrow will be half that and as long as we don''t have too much of a problem, we should reach our first checkpoint before the end of the day."


    Guiltily, James said. "It''s my fault isn''t it? Should I have stayed with the old man?"


    Orison sighed, "How could any of this be your fault? No, the real problem is, when at rest, we''ll slowly be slid back towards the beach. We''re on a giant, slow moving treadmill."


    Zeke said, "Then shouldn''t we be moving through the night? We can rest after we get where we''re going."


    The young mage shook his head. "On the outer ring, the biggest danger is moving around at night. Most of the issues are terrain related but there are nocturnal predators too. Mostly poisonous spiders and snakes looking to catch prey unaware. We''ll be fine in the pop tent but no night bathroom breaks... I''ll leave an empty bottle for emergencies, James."


    At one point, he whispered to Zeke while James was distracted, "I didn''t tell you yet but our suits can process liquid waste. I wouldn''t suggest the other. It''s meant to process that too but it''s unpleasant feeling and takes time."


    "Is that why you wear that flappy shirt thing all the time? So no one can notice when you sh*t your pants?" Zeke said with an evil leer that was probably only an amused smile... probably.


    Orison was glad Zeke had reached a point where he felt close enough to tease but was still annoyed by the comment. "I wear the over robe because I like the flappy thing it does. I only sh*t my pants once so I know how the operation works. I don''t suggest it. Long term wear, like over four days, isn''t recommended either. There''s an upgrade for that but we''ll probably never have a chance to buy it."


    Later that night, in the pop-up tent after James fell asleep, Zeke said, "Since we''re going to be reaching your first checkpoint tomorrow, mind telling me what this whole trip''s about?"


    The young mage had been rather skimpy on the details. Considering how things had turned out with Neil and Jimmy, that had been a good thing in his mind. There was little harm in coming clean to Zeke as far as Orison could see at that point.


    He said, "I have a legacy. I''m already a climber but you, Jimmy and Neil aren''t. You have the potential for it now but they don''t. This place has four legacies made by a group of climbers who had planned on turning this into a training world for their organization.


    "Due to unknown circumstances, they abandoned the project and sealed away this place. With this reality in its death throws, this place developed a crack in its seal. By the mid seventies, this place''s seal unraveled enough to dump itself partially into the real world... That dude down there had already reported the place to his society and they had already successfully took control of the area.


    "Ignatius brought their wrath down on him when he was looking for alternative places to claim. The rest is just dark history that won''t repeat so it''s pointless to share. The rest will be fairly self explanatory when we get where we''re going."


    Zeke said, "One last thing. You told me about keys but what''s the difference between a legacy and a key?"


    Orison said, "A legacy good enough to support climbing is called a knowledge or wisdom key. A knowledge or wisdom key structured enough to be taught to another is a legacy. Not all legacies are ''real'' enough to be a key. Not all knowledge or wisdom keys are structured enough to be shared and therefore, not a legacy."


    The next day was much the same as the first but with less soreness and pain spread around. Once the first landmark was found, it became easy sailing. There was an issue with mire and quicksand at one point but quicksand wasn''t a real threat unless someone panicked and a mire wasn''t that dangerous when there weren''t threats capable of getting into or through equipment.


    Once they found where the underground entrance should be, it took the remaining third of the day to get inside. James was worn out but Orison pushed on ahead. There WERE dangers in the tunnels but not unavoidable ones. One of which required the entrants to complete the journey without stopping.


    What confused Zeke and James was that Orison seemed intent on getting them as worn out as possible. He explained when confronted that it was useful for the next part. Hearing that, Zeke light weight tortured James with silly looking exercised that ensured every muscle group safe to stress, at this point in the boy''s development, had some fatigue. Eventually they reached an alcove with shimmering light that looked like a reflection off a pool just around a bend inside.


    Giving some last minute instructions, Orison said, "You go first, James. When you come out, we might still be in. Just hang tight and keep yourself occupied. The ring I gave you has some goodies in it to help."


    James looked at the overly large ruby ring with strange writing all over it and back at the two of them one last time before. As he walked around the bend past the alcove, there was a flash and then darkness lit only by tufts of bioluminescent moss.


    "The light will return, here in a couple of minutes. I''ll go next. Just wait a couple more and then go in," Orison told Zeke.


    The ex-soldier agreed and soon enough it was Orison''s turn. Walking around the bend, he was blinded by a flash before seeing five separate pictures of people in front of him. Thinking that there was only supposed to be four and the fifth not being something that the survivor mentioned, it meant the man hadn''t seen it or that it was the important one and he had hid it. Not having a whole lot to lose since the inheritances weren''t some overly fantastic thing anyway, Orison chose the young bald headed scholar.


    Come to find out, it wasn''t a legacy but a free training for someone who already had one. The scholar was a man who collected all kinds of bits and pieces of knowledge from all over but never really felt like he had made a legacy worth handing down. Instead of doing what his companions did, he took advantage of the magic device that sped up perception to create a training room filled with his eclectic knowledge. This allowed someone to study it for as long as their minds could handle compressed time perception.


    Not wanting to stress Zeke and James out, Orison figured he could cram a couple years worth before he''d start going stir crazy and that wouldn''t hold them up for more than a month, maybe two at max. That was a lot of time to be puttering around in the room they''d find themselves in afterwards but hopefully Zeke would use the opportunity to train up James some so that the boy would have a little more stamina at the very least.


    Out of picante, the young mage thought about the strange ring that had been reduced to a ring of holding after Orison disabled its less pleasant features. The books were in his space and he had no way to translate them. After a couple of weeks, he hadn''t found any information on a direct translation but he did find some clues on how to break its ''code'' by comparing it to similar languages in the library.


    Months flew by but there was progress everyday. The biggest help was that there was the impression of a scholar in the mental illusion that carried the personality of its owner, along with the memories. That man was a constant goad and a source of inspiration when Orison hit dead ends. It would still take time to properly translate and there were chances for mistakes but all in all, Orison only wanted it for the theory anyway. He had enough knowledge from other sources to use as fact check and stress test on newly presented information to some degree and could always shelve dubious or unclear content when there was more reference from other sources.


    Feeling like he''d reached a decent stopping point and thoroughly sick of staring at the script, Orison turned to flip through knowledge relating to the concepts he had. The scholar didn''t have much on summoning but did have some other knowledge under a blanket term ''conjuration'' which included material from healing and restoration to spatial magic. The young mage felt like he only got a taste of what the scholar had to offer when he was interrupted a month in.


    Shunted from the dream stasis violently, Orison groggily looked around to see that a portion of the glowing pool he was no longer floating in, had a huge crack in it. To one side, a five foot tall skeleton was pierced through with pulsing, corruption filled roots. On the other sat a metal ball that had been wrapped up in roots as well before they had been charred by the light coming from a glowing sword.


    From the old man''s vantage point, Orison wasn''t able to be seen and he wanted to get the orb that looked a great deal like Gan''s conduit when it was out but not in use. Snatching it up, he placed it into his space before reactivating his teaser suit and coming out. The old man looked at him with real pity. It suddenly pierced through the fog of his slowly reawakening consciousness what he was seeing all over.


    "They''re gone son. And we need to be going too. There are unholy things stalking this island now," the old man said firmly but kindly.

 138 Crawling Chaos 36

    In an almost numb state of shock and disbelief, Orison followed the old man back to the modular shelter. It didn''t take nearly as long when the island wanted to push them out in the first place.


    "Something sinister now controls this island. After a month passed and you hadn''t returned, I thought the worst and went looking. I hadn''t expected to find anyone but thank the heavens for what mercy they grant," the old man continued to ramble on but considering that he''d been without someone to talk to for over a month, it was understandable.


    Unfortunately, his current conversation partner wasn''t much for conversation. With little else to offer at the moment to replenish the ''dead'' ball, Orison fed it from the eternium chunk his plane rotated around. He wasn''t about to give it some of the chrism until he knew exactly what it was and he''d figured out exactly how he wanted to reform his own conduit.


    But before he could focus on any of that, he grieved over Zeke and even James. The time he''d spent with the ex-soldier nearly equaled the time he had spent with Gan and the feelings of friendship were just as deep. A part of him wanted to believe that Zeke was still alive but if he was, Orison didn''t think that would be any blessing considering what he woke up to.


    His grief for James wasn''t as substantial but he did feel guilty. What should have been a relatively safe thing that would have insured the teenager''s survival had led him straight to death with no chance at retaliation. The young mage dreaded breaking the news to Jimmy if he ever got the chance. It would be another month or so before the island dumped them into the world proper again and there was little chance of them reaching the center of the island for the other route if it was under a mad god''s control or worse.


    Now that there were two of them and the island wasn''t the natural and relatively harmless place it had once been, they set up a rotation of guard. When it was Orison''s turn a couple of days later and he was sure the old man was asleep, he pulled out the partially charged conduit and tried to verify if it was Gan''s or at least acted similar. The reason why he wasn''t so sure is because there was patterns and filigree on it that had never graced Gan''s plain and unassuming one.


    Sure enough, it would take the forms it was instructed as long as either the user or itself was familiar. While he was studying the designs, the young mage barely made out a scripture on it. Before he read that scripture, he had a strong but ultimately wistful thought that it would be amazing if somehow it could turn into a time travel device.


    To Orison''s side there was a young bald man in a Buddhist cassock. He was holding the mustard seed bracelet and trying to save the young mage from being devoured by paralyzing the purse with some kind of chant. That is, until the bracelet reversed back into his space and the monk faded back out the way he had entered, stuck in a limbo. The young mage saw multiple things be reconstituted in his space as well.


    Since he could think clearly even though he was reversing, Orison tried to actively call for the warranty and recall on his teaser suit before it was resealed inside the crystal capsule. Nothing happened. He continued reversing until whatever was doing it ran out of energy right at the moment he entered this reality.


    Orison shot back forward but was frozen a half second before he hit the ground. There were two voices talking, a pedantic one saying benefits were received even if the satisfaction of warranty was only theoretical. The second voice read from some kind of formal proceeding where the first voices statement had been challenged in the high court of hosts and lost. A tangible good must be delivered if said good was contracted. It apparently didn''t matter how many times someone else received them through other methods. It was a confusing legal argument that tried to set a clear definition on existentialism with a definite answer.


    Three scrolls descended. Him and everything in him were the only ''things'' to get the benefit aside from the silk purse. It was partially ''invalidated'' and became part of the process already established in his ''theoretical'' use of the warranty. ''Conduits without soul cores didn''t have protection as valid entities'' was offered as a polite informing given by the second voice. Another part that wasn''t ''real'' was the need for recovery. He was perfectly fine in every way after the process was done, save one.


    His sanity wasn''t exactly perfectly fine as he said, "How much of what I experienced was even real? Scratch that. How much translates into my current reality accurately?"


    The second voice said, "We are under no obligation to answer but as a courtesy... About ten percent as a very rough, non-professional and in no way legally binding opinion. There were two things that were concretely established and unchangeable by any paradox of the lower dimensions. The first was an influx of essence from the mid dimensions and the second was an instance of conduit sacrifice which initiated in the mid dimensions as well. Presumably both to keep you alive.


    "The illusion formation did draw information from its surroundings but any further than a few kilometers would be mostly fabrication. Consider yourself fortunate Mr. Cantrip. Any gains or losses of a material nature may be questionable but gains to concept and spirituality are very much real. As you can see, even if most of what you experienced was supposition, in low dimensional worlds, such effects can be quite powerful as the nature of reality where you are is quite loose. The vernacular would be ''subject to change and results may vary''.


    "It is this supposition mixed with your intuition that allowed for you to construct real probability within the illusion. It also allowed you to construct survival scenario within the illusion itself. Calling on aid at key moments and uses or withholding of certain resources at dire moments. Your situation would make an interesting case study, Mr. Cantrip. Unfortunately, it would be conflict of interest to discuss that further with you or entertain it privately for us.


    "Thank you for your patronage, valued customer. Your warranty and recall restitution has now been successfully completed and delivered. Please consider using our services if chance permits in the future."


    Orison landed safely on the ground and a second later, the young monk reappeared looking conflicted.


    The monk said, "Contrary to what you saw within your illusion, I am not a bogeyman. I am also not some mysterious old man that may have barely restrained doing harm to you. I am the second... person... that you laid to rest and recovered in the cave. I never left Amoril until recently.


    "Recovering from long term exposure to a bewildering array of that magnitude can be quite disorienting. Perhaps we should find you a place to rest for a little while. It''s not too late to discuss your future plans at that time."


    As Orison followed the monk, the familiar sight of a man getting beaten by three thugs appeared. As they continued to walk, Orison noticed that they were ignored completely and that the monk had no intention of stopping.


    Orison said, "Can''t we help him?"


    The monk shrugged. "I do not want to stain myself with threads of karma from this world but I will not stop you. I will wait."


    Since they weren''t seen, Orison just fed them a suggestion that they had done what they set out to do. Once they wandered off, Orison asked to be released from whatever cloaking effect was being used and offered Neil the money he had picked from the thug''s pocket, save ten bucks. The detective thanked him and gave him his address for Orison to come by.


    Noticing that Neil wanted to solidly offer repayment but knew he might not be able any time soon, the young mage said he might need some help with something in the future and that Neil could consider it a down payment, nothing owed. Pride satisfied, Neil staggered off to get a cab to a clinic. He hadn''t been beaten too badly but still needed a little attention.


    The monk''s eyes widened in delight. "Excellent execution. The tie of karma is entirely controlled by whether you want to pick it up or leave it. Taking the funeral paper may lead to some karma but you can avoid it."


    Orison chuckled. "That''s the actual money of this land."


    The monk smiled. "Amitabha, benefactor. Perhaps you can help a traveling monk keep up his strength? I will pray for the dissolving of your karma from petty theft."


    The young mage laughed. "You want dinner? Sure."


    Since it was nearby and to satisfy some curiosity, Orison took the monk to the dumpling place across from Mr. Wei''s apothecary. It was a bit of a logistic hassle but the restaurant managed to put together a decent vegetarian plate for the monk.


    Whispering, Orison said, "Is there a transportation gate down there?"


    The monk shook his head and said, "There is an entrance to a sacred land. It is all but empty and leads nowhere else. There are signs of body practitioners but none have the signs of internal breath. The cultivation is superficial. How could it be otherwise when the mortal breath of this land is so dense."


    Orison sensed himself and noticed that the inert spiritual essence was only a third of the pressure he remembered. If the world was a soldier barely holding on with tourniquets inside the illusion, this one was more of an old lady slowly slipping away in a comfortable hospice.


    As they finished up their meal, Orison asked, "As long as it''s not too personal, how did you survive to recover?"


    The monk quoted a little scripture and then said, "It was the carving. I tried to tell you so you would recognize me but the demon bag twisted the telling. As a last resort, I secreted myself in the carving I made my father but never gave him. The wood was special and it''s disappearance is part of the reason why I was sent to the monastery for discipline. It is a boring story really.


    "Benefactor Venito was my true reason for recovery beyond revival. It was my debt to him that sent me here. He has children he is yet unwilling to leave. As free as he has been with his affections, he holds to his responsibilities as a father."


    "I am only a material manifestation here. What I can do is limited but... I could send something to your brother for you. It would be no trouble."


    Orison closed his eyes and communicated with ''Mustard'', then said, "There is something I want to send him. If you would be so kind as to deliver it untampered with."


    The monk smiled widely. "Of course, benefactor. To do good deeds and sever negative karma is of great importance."


    Orison nodded and said, "Of course. Just make a vow on your structure to do so and I''ll be happy to ''sever'' whatever remaining karma exists."


    The monk frowned. "There is fate between me and the bracelet you carry. I will be happy to carry over what is useful to Benefactor Venito and keep only a meager portion which is useful to an impoverished monk such as myself."


    Orison sighed. "I am truly grateful to you as you SHOULD be to me and my brother both by your own words. I tell you this out of that gratitude. The bracelet will not accept you. You are apostate but if you deliver it to my brother, it will share some items with you. That is Mustard''s decision, not mine."


    The monk held out his hand and said, "Very well. I will deliver the bracelet to your brother."


    "Your structure oath first, please," Orison said woodenly.


    The monk sighed, gave his oath and then again when Orison caught the loophole the monk left himself. Once it was completed properly, the bracelet flew out on its own volition. It paused briefly to create the silhouette of a person placing their hands together like in prayer before bowing. The young mage returned the gesture. In playful despair, the Monk held the bracelet and asked it to reconsider rejecting him as he faded away.


    Once the monk was out of sight, Orison looked at himself in a reflection and sighed again. He looked fifteen, felt 500 and had more memories that were fake or belonged to others than he did his own. Not quite back at square one but completely unsure of what this world was about, he stepped out of the shop.


    Halfway down the street but no real idea of where he wanted to go yet, he felt a disturbance in his space. Looking within, a ghostly copy of the three scrolls had only just finished their work on a metal ball that glowed with supernatural brilliance. Wrapping his over robe around, he pulled the ball out and on the side was a glowing biblical scripture which all but screamed ''Read me!''


    Under his breath, he said, "I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."


    A moment later, there was nothing in his hand but there was an intimidating guy standing in front of him with a sturdy looking teaser suit and a t-shirt on.


    Zeke bent down and gave the young mage a hug and said, "That''s from me." He stood up straight and ruffled Orison''s hair and added, "That''s from Gan."


    The air had eye irritating dust particles in it again for a little while before Zeke hailed them a cab and took them to a hotel.


    On the way there, the young mage said, "Is this real?"


    Zeke growled, "Don''t say things like that. It''s as real as a low dimensional world gets... We''ll talk more when we''re in private."


    As soon as they were squared away in a room, Zeke gave the breakdown. "No, this world isn''t as dangerous as your memories. That was the purse trying to get you to use, abandon or forget about items you have while making you waste power. Yes, there are threats in this world and secret societies are at the top. Yes, there are two places with ''mad gods'' in them... One is at the place up north where you remember using the transposition device.


    "When I was sent by Gan to help you, I was still just a conduit. When I first arrived here, I was found by someone else and I ended up being present when the transposition device was used once before. We went a decent way back. I was found by a woman who belongs to the ''plain people'' to the east of here. Through my ability to mimic and her desire mixed with a little faith power, she was finally able to give her husband a son.


    "During an event where the plain people send their young out for a few days to see the ''sinful world'', I was tricked into signing up for the military while I was drunk. It was one hand pushing my back into one situation before another hand pushed me somewhere else but I always felt like there was something I was supposed to be doing that I wasn''t.


    "The moment you pulled my likeness into the purse''s illusion, I started having dreams. That kept happening until 1957. A little of the power generated from the fake warranty thing let me remember who... what I was. The rest isn''t that important since it''s paradox stuff but to close the loop so all this stays ''real'', I have to go back to Gan at the same time he sends me. That''s around a month from now.


    "What I''m going to do is spend that time setting up your life and a big *ss fund to support you in the future. Since Neil seems to be your favorite pet project, we can set something up for him to be your guardian watchdog while you live emancipated. The same way it was in your illusion thing.


    "You''re very unstable right now. You need to get stable before you even think about going where everyone else is. For awhile, Al held the reigns and had a little fun in the background but he''s handed everything to you now... Want to know why you look fifteen after being tuned to the truest you? That''s because the adult inside of you threw the rest of what he had into you and is no more. Well, that''s not completely true but you get what I mean."


    Zeke let that soak in for awhile.


    Seeing that Orison wasn''t ready to add anything to the conversation, he flashed a handful of conduits and boundary items. "Is there any of these you mind me having? I can use them."


    Orison looked them over dully and nodded.


    Zeke glowed for a moment and they were gone. Next he handed Orison all the stuff that should have been in the ruby ring but the ring wasn''t in his space either. The young mage looked at Zeke in wary confusion.


    The living conduit said, "Ignatius isn''t the entity you think he is. Zora is a real person and she can handle him. I can handle the ring. I also have the mini trainer because it is one big nuclear bomb of paradox right now... Before I leave, I''ll come back one more time to see you and I''ll give you the ring and trainer... Is there any reason why that should be handled differently?"


    Orison was about to shake his head when he thought of something very important.

 139 Crawling Chaos 37

    "What about Jammers?" Orison said.


    Zeke looked thoughtful. "Hang tight. I''ll go see if Jimmy is real or not."


    He opened the wind, turned into a frigate bird and was off.


    Orison thought, "Zeke''s right about one thing. I feel really unstable right now... Am I alright with having someone/thing else laying down the plan and following it, though? At least he''s asking instead of just doing what he wants and pretending it''s ''for the best''. I need time to sort through my mess of a life since I got here to pick out the grains of intuition truth I can use."


    While he waited for Zeke, Orison ran through the books to find that he could decipher them some. It would be a labor of love to get it done since there were so many but if he was going to take a break to ''stabilize'', at least it wouldn''t be an idle one. Between the books, re-figuring out himself and what he was actually capable of with logging some ''real'' living, he''d have plenty to keep himself occupied.


    He packed it all away and a few minutes later, Zeke returned. In bird form, he hopped in through the window before tucking into a ball. That ball turned metal and rolled to a stop in front of Orison, bible passage glowing on its surface.


    Scripture reading done, Zeke returned to man form and said, "The three ''J''s exist, alright. Care to take a guess who they are. Here''s a hint. You''ve already met today."


    An image of three street toughs flashed through his head and he wondered how he''d never noticed the similarities between the men and the boys. Smiley''s goons were Jimmy, James and Jacob.


    Zeke said, "Jammers rejected the Jimmy that exists here. Even the little guy knows it would be better to not exist than serve a creep like that."


    Orison said, "Hand me the trainer."


    Reluctantly, the militant man did so while warning about the dangers of using it for the information inside. There was no denying that Zeke looked sick with worry while Orison held it. It didn''t matter. The young mage took in the ball of essence and spirit that Jammers was and tried to anchor it to his plane. It didn''t stick. Instead, the bundle of ''being'' joined the rest of the future potential in the white hole center of his space.


    They hadn''t given up existing, Orison realized. Whether it was Jammers or the fairies, they were waiting for something more substantial and the young mage had a decent idea of what that was. He didn''t quite know how he thought about it but it would be an issue for another day. Now, more than ever, thoughts of becoming a father wasn''t something he was willing to entertain much less pursue with purpose. With Al''s portions of Orison the most subdued it had ever been, there were a handful of things that Orison realized he wasn''t enthusiastic about.


    Orison muttered, "It wasn''t a lie but it wasn''t the truth either."


    As the young mage handed over the trainer, Zeke said, "What wasn''t?"


    Orison continued, "The sub-mind, my memories, intentional or not, Al had his hand all over everything. I was bound and pushed on every level by my ''host''... That being said, it wasn''t a lie that I was in control either. I don''t have any room or reason to complain. He could have rejected me or slowly consumed me but he didn''t.


    "All the way to the end, he thought of me first and sought to merge and harmonize the whole time. In the end, I was the one who couldn''t accept equality and he still did what he thought was right. I pretty much owe him everything and so I''ll honor what part of him I am while being the me I was supposed to be."


    Zeke shrugged. "Whatever track you''re on, keep it up. Your aura''s already more stable by a noticeable amount."


    The young mage cracked open a beer from the service fridge.


    "Should you be doing that? You''re kinda y-" Zeke started but was cut off.


    "Stuff it, time lord. You don''t get to judge yourself by one standard and me by another. Take my beer away and I''m going to start calling you a toddler. Are you even three yet?" Orison said with a smirk.


    The living conduit sighed and said, "Fine. I really can''t win this one."


    Since he couldn''t stop Orison with flimsy logic, he joined in, intent on reducing the available amount.


    As he watched Zeke throw back a second like he was a man dying of thirst Orison exclaimed, "Starting tomorrow, I have to babysit a recovering alcoholic! Can''t I enjoy myself before I have to live dry for the sake of fair play!?"


    Cracking a third with a grim face, Zeke said, "Who''s stopping you?"


    Eventually it turned into a good humored wrestling match over the single serving liquor bottles. It wasn''t really about wanting to drink. Zeke wasn''t the same Zeke he knew, not really. Orison wanted to compare the man he knew to the reality in front of him.


    The man, the real Zeke, was colder and more goal focused. On the surface, he was more detached from the humanity he wore but internally, Orison got the sense that he clung to it more desperately. That was to be expected. The ex-soldier in the illusion didn''t know he was a shape shifting conduit.


    Fridge empty and buzz wearing off all too quickly, Orison said, "Thanks for going easy on me and letting me get a couple... While you''re out there busting your a** for me, don''t forget to have some fun too. To me, more than a conduit, you''re Zeke; the lion who wanted to lay with the lamb, the guy who wanted to recapture and misspend some youth and my friend."


    Not really in the mood to make it more unbearably mushy than it already was, the young mage went to his room and tried to get some rest. Early the next morning, Orison did the indoor version of his routine before stepping out to see what the plan was to find that Zeke was gone. A couple copies of the same note were in obvious spots so there wasn''t any chance they''d be missed. The man had gotten a head start on the day and would be back once some things were in place.


    The young mage resisted the urge to write a few notes of his own stating that he ran away to join the circus or something. It was the first time in a long time that someone was basically taking care of things for him and although it sounded nice, it didn''t feel too great. He reminded himself not to be so sensitive. It wasn''t necessary to be in control over every little detail and if he didn''t like something, that was easy enough to take care of when the time came.


    With whatever downtime he''d have while he waited, Orison took a stock inventory on his belongings. His essence starved space had made quick work of taking what it wanted and needed. What remained was a walk-in closet''s worth of boundary items with no real special effects and the stuff from the ruby ring that weren''t any different than he remembered from the illusion. The capsule hadn''t been some wondrous goody bag prepared by some caring ancestor, it was a collection of captured climber goods.


    When he turned his attention towards his inner plane, the young mage immediately swung his attention away again. It was big but only a very small part towards the very middle was particularly real. His casual glance towards it had crumbled away the outer ten percent and destabilized another ten to twenty.


    Whatever the second scroll was that contained the power to ''fill in gaps'', it''s remaining power must have been used on his plane. Over time, his essence starved space would be able to support the delicate structures the scroll had made but that would take time. What that meant was Orison would have to be hands off and not pay attention to his plane for awhile for fear his gaze would invalidate valuable future resources.


    He still had a pretty good idea of what was usable. He could still use his space as an intermediary to access those usable herbs. He also caught a glimpse of something that heartened him. There was a semi transparent sapphire with an illusionary key suspended in it, laying on the ground towards the center of his plane. It was far too fragile to interact with at the moment but it made the young mage excited.


    When he turned to his abilities, there was equal parts dread and hope. That feeling didn''t change after a preliminary inspection. The silk purse had done a number on him. Through the illusion, it had muddied his understandings, polluted his concepts and crippled him supernaturally. For all its prowess, it had made one crucial mistake. That mistake was something his intuition had utilized to its utmost. The purse had allowed ritual magic concepts from this world to make it into the illusion.


    Through that slip up he had managed to survive, take control of a part of the illusion and honed himself in unique ways. Ultimately, it had lead to him being able to escape and prevail. The costs had been huge but the gains weren''t something to scoff at.


    The restoration he''d received may have removed falsehoods and contradictions. It may have condensed and refined his concepts into seeds that would sprout into abilities he''d be able to use in the mid-dimensions. It had also utterly reduced them to being unusable, pure verified theory. That was the despair.


    The hope laid in ritual work and the translatable books from the ruby ring. The one personal journal penned by the maker of the ring and the ''Rosetta stone'' for his foray into other works, named him ''The Great Magi from Dharitri''. He was a cruel and cautious man with delusions of grandeur but a true scholar none the less. More importantly, his collection of knowledge came from a world of magic and mysticism in the mid-dimensions, making it greatly valuable.


    A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He quickly put everything away and answered the door. Behind it was a teary eyed, tired looking bellboy who had stifled a jaw cracking yawn.


    "A package for you... sir." The bellboy handed a brown paper wrapped bundle to Orison as he decided polite address despite being slightly older. "Your uncle sent a cab to take you to your relative''s place. They''ll wait for an hour."


    Seeing the boy waiting expectantly, Orison fished in his pocket for his last two dollars, handing the bellboy one. With a last weak smile, the hotel employee was on his way and so was Orison. A forgettable breakfast and cab ride later saw him outside of Neil''s place.


    If anything, the real place was slightly more seedy than the illusion version and Orison had to wonder just how safe such a building was to live in. Armed with a modest amount of money and a legitimized identity, he took a deep breath and walked up a vaguely familiar set of steps to his new home. He hoped it was a home for only a month. The building was a dump.


    As soon as he opened the door, Orison was assaulted by a speech from Neil. "Oh, so it''s the kid from yesterday. I was wondering why a scary guy would show up at my office with such a hair brained proposition... Not that I mind much but you''re on probation. Your uncle will come and snatch you up the moment you start going wild."


    Settling into the role he was expected to play, Orison retorted, "The moment you start acting like a funny uncle, I pack up and report you to the police... I''m glad we have the unpleasant stuff out of the way."


    Neil geared up to angry for a split second, "Now see here!... No, that''s fair. We''re strangers and you should be careful. That''s just the rub, see? I really don''t understand what your uncle was thinking cutting you loose with only a stained shirt like me to keep an eye out for you."


    Clearing his throat, Orison said, "That''s just the thing. I''m emancipated and the best person for me is a person who knows his way around where I''ll be and not overly intent on trying to take charge... I''ll keep my head low and nose clean so you won''t feel like you have to."


    After some banter and laying down of the law on both sides, they settled into a grudging truce that had been carefully crafted by Orison to lay lines down right where he wanted them. There was a small problem with it, though. His starting point with Neil was a stance and life position far weaker than the ones he''d had in the illusion. He wasn''t a weird kid with some medical skills or a supernatural savior. He was a brat the detective was compensated for providing an adult anchor to.


    Never the less, if a desirable resource exists and another is willing to demonstrate and provide for reasonable expectations, the bait will be taken. It just took longer to get the ball rolling. That translated into slower progress. It probably didn''t help that Orison wasn''t a whip cracker this time around. He had his own problems to deal with.


    Orison had thrown the journal more than once in horror and frustration. That wasn''t the only thing frustrating the young mage either. There was no Mrs. Derby but there was a Mr. Derby that was ramping up to pressure a certain waitress into an illicit affair to keep her job. It hadn''t reached that point yet but it would. He flat out gave Rachel the formula for the mascara with some business instructions, a couple hundred bucks and a suggestion she cut ties with her old life.


    After that, the young mage lost his appetite for pleasure eating. Instead, he took up hobby cooking which Neil enjoyed because it meant free food. Because Neil was a slob, Orison took to cleaning the public spaces of the apartment on a regular basis too. By the end of the second week, Orison all but ran out screaming.


    On his way to the bar with a pinball arcade, Orison muttered, "Neil''s a f***ing boring sh*t. The only positive difference was that he was too poor to be an alcoholic. He let himself go and got unhealthy looking a little faster so he''s not even an older lady''s man and he''s not a particularly good PI. To be fair, he never was and only became a good one later. I''m literally leaning against the illusion of the man as motivation to keep going.


    "I''m translating the work of a self absorbed bigot. I''m playing a f***ing house maid and I haven''t so much as had a single ''fun'' moment in almost half a month! I can live with that but I don''t HAVE to live with that and I don''t WANT to live with that!"


    Fifteen minutes and three dimes later, Orison was drinking a soda the nice lady behind the bar spiked for him with a wink. Al''s memories of flashier entertainment put a dimness to the pinball game''s enjoyment but it had been so long since he''d done anything like it, there was fresh enjoyment to be had. Since it was a slow night, the bartender''s general flirtiness which was presumably spread out for all to enjoy was almost entirely focused on him and a couple of regulars which made the atmosphere pretty enjoyable as well.


    Her father, the bar owner, curtailed people taking advantage of his daughter''s efforts for generous tips but saw no harm in letting her ''practice'' on a ''harmless teenage boy'' so he was getting a lot more service than was probably appropriate but if no one was going to complain, he wasn''t. The heckles from the two other regulars only made him smile a little and didn''t make him the least bit embarrassed.


    Pouting, the amply endowed young woman with a decent blond dye job said, "Hey, cute boy. Have you already made some sweet girl cry over you? You''ve got some thick skin."


    Orison thought back and instead of taking it for the joke it was, he said sadly, "One, I think. We were separated. She had responsibilities she couldn''t walk away from and I respect that very much. Another may have but even so, she pretty much made me cry first so we''re even. One just stomped all over my feelings and I don''t even think she knows how to cry."


    She looked at him blankly and then smiled warmly. "Everything is so new and raw for you right now. I''m sure none of them were as serious as you think. If you''re willing to treat a girl right, you''ll get a girl that''ll treat you right too. You remember that. Just...give it a couple more years there, Romeo."


    He was about to respond when he was bumped out of the way. The offender in question took one of the dimes Orison had laid out on the machine and helped himself to a free game. When the young mage was about to give a solid return for the favor, the bartender pulled him away. It took all of half a second to recognize the offender and the two friends that set up shop around him.

 140 Crawling Chaos 38

    Orison thought to himself, "So the illusion was spot on that fact too. The three ''J''s do play pinball here. They are just older and more asinine."


    The owner said, "Jen, take the boy out back."


    James, better known as Club Foot, said, "Nah, old man. The boy can hang with us. We got shallow pockets these days and could use a little friend like him to help us have some fun. Right boys?"


    Horse Face (Jimmy) and Slim (Jacob), grunted agreement and leveled a predatory gaze at Orison. His brain on fast mode, Orison was calculating how much he should rely on ''illusion world'' knowledge. He wasn''t particularly in the mood for peaceful solutions but he didn''t want to leave problems for the nice bartender and her father. The young mage gave the owner and his daughter a reassuring smile and bought a round of drinks for the three ''J''s.


    They leered at Orison and called him names but didn''t immediately lay into him or try to steal his wallet. They were smart enough not to take it too far. They wanted to leave Orison with enough nerve to come back so they could do it again Some other time. It was a cunning enough thought for small time bullies turned small time thugs.


    If they were dealing with a normal teenager, it might have worked. By the time Orison was done planting seeds of discord by bringing up old sore spots between them, they were outside beating the stuffing out of each other and ruining a childhood friendship. James ''stole'' one of Jimmy''s girls. Jacob had certain unrequited feelings that he never intended to see the light of day about James that Jimmy had accidentally found out about but kept to himself. Once the lid was open, worms kept pouring out and they''d never be able to put them back in again.


    With Jimmy more intent on hurting feelings than throwing fists and James not really able to bring himself to beat his little brother too much, Jacob took the brunt. While James was busy, Jimmy tried to take off with the car which may have been the only thing that kept James from beating Jacob to death. After knocking his little brother out, James thew him into the back of the car and drove off, leaving a bloody and sobbing Jacob in the dirt.


    Sighing, Orison walked over to Jacob. "How are you feeling right now? Are you more angry that you walked into the darkness for someone who couldn''t appreciate it or are you more heartbroken and feel like dying?"


    Through the painful sounding shallow gasps of someone with a fractured rib, Jacob said, "If you''re going to do something, do it. If not, then beat it, kid."


    "What I''m thinking about doing is whether or not to take you to the hospital but I''m not going to bother if you''ve already given up on life. That''s why I''m asking," Orison said.


    Jacob said, "Don''t have the money for a hospital anyway."


    After a bit of back and forth, Orison was at his wit''s end and ready to walk away. The man couldn''t afford a hospital. If he went back ''home'' there was a good chance that James would finish what he started and ''Mr. Ashland'', a person who might possibly be Smiley or a devil, didn''t involve himself in the squabbles of the floor level members of his organization.


    Orison looked at the living problem that was struggling to breath in front of him. He fished a silver dollar out of his pocket and flipped it in the air. Letting it fall to the ground, it bounced and half fell through a crack, wedged in a vertical position. It would have felt like divine providence if he wasn''t standing on a wooden patio.


    Walking back inside the bar, he said, "I need someone to help me move the bleeding guy to my car without jostling him too much. He has a rib fracture that could turn life threatening if it finishes breaking."


    Originally, it looked like there weren''t going to be any takers. Considering the person involved and the dirty laundry aired outside the bar, he wasn''t that surprised. He was surprised when Jen slapped the rag she was using to wipe down a table with and said, "If a kid who was bullied by them can be the bigger man, how ''small'' does that make all of you?"


    Orison almost chuckled on her suggestive emphasis of ''small'', obviously implying an unrelated topic. Making her way out the door, she turned and raised a shaped eyebrow at him. The young mage smiled and jogged out the door. He got another shock when, after loading Jacob up in the back seat, she jumped in the car as well.


    Seeing her raise an eyebrow at him again when he didn''t immediately start up the car, the young mage thought, "I wonder if she realizes her bar persona has wormed its way into her everyday one." To her, he said, "Isn''t your dad going to be pissed once he realizes you''re not coming back?"


    She replied, "Well, I hope you''ll bring me back after we settle the charity case in wherever you''re taking him."


    Orison said, "That''s going to take some time. Since he''s refusing medical care, that leaves homeopathic treatment and he''s actually pretty bad off, even if most of it''s temporary if treated properly. To get him settled and stable might take a good portion of the night. You still down?"


    She smiled saucily, "And miss a teenager playing doctor on a grown man? As long as you''re not into taxidermy, I want front row seats!"


    Starting up, he drove a little slower to keep from jostling the weakly moaning Jacob who''d lapsed into a semi delirious state after the shock wore off. "Taxidermy? Oh, hell no! A little leather work maybe. Human skin doesn''t make good leather though... too thin."


    That she laughed at his lame joke instead of getting weirded out put her further into his good books.


    Jen said, "That''s a comfort to know. Didn''t stop some Egyptian guy from doing it. One of my girlfriends told me about this museum piece that was put up a day or two ago in the Smith''s Science and History museum down in New Yorkshire. We were thinking about making a trip down to see it before it gets packed up next month. Since your car is in better shape than hers, want to chaperon two single ladies on a big city weekend getaway?"


    Orison snorted. "Please... and be treated like a little brother luggage carrier while the two of you enjoy yourselves? I have more self respect. Make it a real date and not only is it a deal, I''ll foot the bill, within reason."


    Jen looked him over critically. "If you can contain yourself and be a proper gentleman instead of a creep, it''s a deal. Which one of us ends up your arm candy is up to us." Smiling wickedly, "Who knows. We might end up fighting over the privilege depending on how generous of a gentleman you turn out to be."


    The young mage gave a saintly smile and said, "Deal. Also, feminine wiles challenge accepted as long as no one fights too dirty."


    "Oh? I thought you''d be into us making it as dirty as we were willing to go." Jen said, distracting with flirtation.


    "Fake histrionics and jealousy ploys involving other men are deal breakers. The rest are dealer''s choice, madam. And I''m fully aware the house always wins. At least give me a chance to enjoy myself before raking me over the coals." Orison said with an amused side glance.


    Teasing and joking was the order of the day until they got Jacob onto Orison''s bed after the young mage laid down a painter''s tarp and a fresh sheet. They''d even found an indirect way of introducing each other by exchanging driver''s license.


    While Orison carefully stripped Jacob from the waist up, Jen said, "I was expecting something nicer... Not that it matters or anything."


    "I''m newly emancipated and dealing with a legal issue over some finer points of inheritance laws. This is all fairly temporary and I''m not going to invest heavily into temporary. It serves its purpose and I don''t want to offend my sponsor by insulting his home." Orison explained.


    Discretely utilizing the elaborate magic circle hid by the rug his bed sat on, he placed a sprig of lavender on Jacob''s head and whispered, " Draw him deep down into sleep."


    By the time that Jen had turned back towards them from where she was giving the plain and unadorned bedroom a once over, the young mage had already wiped off the small amount of dust left behind by the lavender.


    She said, "I can''t believe how exhausted he must be to fall asleep while in so much pain."


    "Whatever the reason, since he doesn''t have any head wounds, it''ll only make things easier for both of us... Um, no offense but would you like to be helpful or are you more interested in just observing at this point?" Orison said.


    Jen said, "I''d like to be helpful as long as you aren''t about to say something like ''could you boil some water?'' Because we both know that''s just busy work to get someone out of the way."


    He pretended to reach into a draw and pulled two dried herb packs from his space. "This one needs steeped in hot water... The second one needs thrown in a blender with a cup of the milky looking stuff in the corked wine bottle after you shake it well."


    Jen laughed. "So what you''re saying is that even though I''m helping you, it''s by being a bartender?"


    Orison shrugged. "I need them and I also need to address a sensitive injury spot. It''s more of a two birds, one stone thing."


    Catching on after she glanced at a spot of shoe scuff in a bad place for one to be, she faintly blushed and walked out silently. By the time she came in with the mineral smoothie, Jacob had been stripped, spell cleaned and lightly spell healed to a non-critical state. He was also modestly covered up.


    Waking Jacob long enough to get the smoothie and tea infusion in him before putting him back under, he went through the motions of home hospice he''d have to undo after she was gone to finish his work. They chit chatted about general stuff and basically just got to know each other. It almost made all the unnecessary effort worth the trouble. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and it was after seven on a Friday which meant she needed to get back.


    Leaving Jacob to his own devices for awhile, Orison left his room with Jen as they discussed when their ''date'' would be. He was kind of confused why they''d be having it there instead of the car when Neil came hopping over from his own room and said he''d drive her back because he wanted some R\u0026R. Apparently, they''d already met. The detective had came in while she was getting the tea infusion ready.


    As they were leaving, Orison said, "Neil, if you have more than one without waiting an hour before leaving, I WILL do terrible things to your after morning workout shake... I mean it and I''ve already proven I can tell."


    Muttering some kind of derogatory statement that made Jen giggle as they left, the young mage returned to making sure his unpleasant visitor would be just good enough to leave the next day. Once he''d cast a third light heal to seal a herniation, everything looked decent enough to give the man walking papers after a good rest and letting the infusions do their work. Too much healing might raise suspicions but it was easy enough to play off his earlier words if Jacob got curious why he was better off than he felt he should be.


    Seeing a twitch and involuntary grimace on the sleeping man''s face, Orison muttered, "I can''t imagine a piece of intestine sliding back where it''s supposed to be felt fun. I better do some more research on that sleep ritual. It wouldn''t be good for someone to wake up when they''re not supposed to."


    Jacob''s face smoothed out and breathing returned to an even pace. The young mage played with the idea of throwing a pair of shorts on the guy but after thinking about the probability of an accident of one kind or another, decided to let things slide as they were. Doing some quick math in his head, Jacob had around eight hours left on the sleep spell so Orison decided to trigger his trance early while slumping in his salvaged reading chair and get a head start on the next day.


    He came to with a start as a door slammed. The first light of day was cutting through a dispersing a loose cobweb mist of negative energy. He would have been panicked but whatever had happened was over.


    Looking out the window where Neil had stopped to dry heave, Orison overheard him mutter. I- with an old lady! Blurgh... I''m going for a long jog. Maybe get lost for half a day. Maybe she''ll be gone before I get back. No more whiskey.... I''m done. Done, done..."


    Neil continued to mutter to himself as he took off on a morning jog that was apparently going to take awhile. Orison chuckled at the detective''s outburst and breathed a sigh of relief that whatever happened may have traumatized Neil but he was healthier than ever. Swinging back to scan his room, the young mage realized that Jacob was in good shape too. Still overly skinny, there was not a single bruise or scrape to be seen. That was both good and bad.


    Tracing the source of the negative essence that had kept both himself and Jacob resting lazily well past the point they should have been up, Orison saw the busted spirit bottle under his bed. The trap that was meant to catch any supernatural that attacked the young mage hadn''t been quite strong enough to endure but it had done its job long enough for the principles written into his circle to ''sacrifice'' what had been trapped for the betterment of the one resting above it.


    Orison narrowed his eyes at Jacob and mumbled, "Lucky son of a b*tch."


    He almost retracted the statement immediately the next moment. Not just because it was wrong to insult a man''s mother just because he wasn''t that great of a person but because the entity that had been caught came from Jacob to begin with. He could tell because Jacob''s aura was the pearl gray of a lightly overcast day rather than just a few shades shy of ''can''t call it gray anymore''. Mixed with it being slightly unstable along with his spiritual seat and compromised soul shell, it all added up to possession.


    Fortunately, whatever it had been was more of a masker and influence inducing kind that slowly eroded its host. It could have been the full dark thirty kind that came with a spinning head and projectile split pea soup. Anything was possible when your employer dealt with infernal types. It was alarming to say the least but due to spending a night in Orison''s circle, he wasn''t only free of it, the circle made it spit its earnings out plus enough interest to undo it.


    It would be some time before all the negative energy completely cleared out so the young mage had the opportunity to check Neil''s room before his guest, becoming more complicated by the moment, woke up. Peeking into Neil''s room, the first thing he noticed was the naked old lady breathing rhythmically. The second thing was the filled but intact spirit bottle under the detective''s bed.


    Focusing back on the woman, he noticed that whatever her deal was, her aura was glossy black. It wasn''t as far dark as an aura could go but it was ''over the line''. He''d seen one like it in the illusion before but that woman wouldn''t have been taken down by the slightly better than novice protections he had made, no matter how much extra effort he put into them. Either the illusion''s version was portrayed as being more powerful or this was just a student or some such of hers. If that was the case, it was seriously bad news.


    Best that he could gather from the lingering essence and obvious activities of the night before, this woman had tried to pull a succubus but it had backfired horribly as the possessing entity that gave her the ability was yanked from her. The circle was relatively simple in design and had no complex ability to tell what from what. It just kept pulling from the bad and giving it to the people on the bed. The bad kept pulling from the woman and she''d get a little back from the circle while what was being given to Neil was sticking.


    It was complicated and he didn''t know if his interpretation was that accurate. Not really knowing what to do with her, he cleaned and dressed her. Seeing that she had basically been reduced to an eighty year old Alzheimer''s patient, he called a local hospice to come pick her up. He used a building a couple of blocks from his own and sat her down with a cup of lukewarm coffee and a fresh bagel, letting society handle the rest.

 141 Crawling Chaos 39

    Inside the package wasn''t only the bottle but an address for Mr. Ashland''s flagship enterprise. He figured, if that wasn''t enough to keep the devil group''s interests from focusing on him, at least he was forewarned that they were too strong to mess with at all and he needed to make a run for it. With all his running around, he had seen signs of the Masons and even that august group didn''t clash toe to toe with the Rose Cross. Holding similar roots notwithstanding, they were the twin giants of the secret societies from what he could gather, at least in the Americanus continent.


    Returning ''home'', He was stopped by Neil. "You didn''t happen to see my guest leave, did you?"


    Grimly, Orison said, "Not only have I seen her, Neil, but I had her picked up. As much as I''d like to allow your self revulsion for booze addled behavior to stand, its too dangerous to leave you in the dark."


    Orison gave a gentle breakdown to an increasingly skeptical, Neil.


    The detective said, "How much of this baloney do you expect me to swallow without any proof? A witch with a devil pact..."


    The detective spit all his doubts out into the open and Orison led off with, "How many geriatrics have you picked up in the past to not have some doubt about all this? Give me a little suspension of disbelief for a minute... Lady comes to find out what really happened when three of her organization''s tightest knit group of lackeys goes off the rail. The trail leads here but she''s not in any hurry and decides to get a little fringe benefit out of it.


    "Follow me... You see him, Neil? You probably don''t recognize him, right. He''s Slim, one of the guys who was geared up to beat the stuffing out of you the other day. Now he''s a young and relatively healthy guy. I''m sure Jen told you about how bad off he was... He''s starting to stir a little. Let''s give him a bit more time so we can finish our conversation first."


    He gave a little more breakdown before revealing the magic circle and demonstrating its effects. Neil was understandably freaked but Orison calmly answered his questions. The detective didn''t trust him and didn''t trust his words. Fumbling a card out of his wallet, Neil called Zeke. That conversation didn''t go as he thought it would.


    Wanting to earn a little goodwill back, Orison said, "Would you rather believe that you''d predate on a sick old lady, even drunk, than believe you were the victim of supernatural events? If you''re willing to buy that, why would you automatically assume that just because I''m the one that revealed it, that I might be the one behind it? It would literally serve me better to let you go on believing that you banged a granny.


    "I exposed myself to you because I''m worried about your safety! If you want some space, I''ll give it but if you poke your finger in my face when I''ve done nothing but try to help you, then there''s nothing more I can do but cut you loose. Don''t overly worry about what Zeke said. Here''s twenty. Take the car out for the day and clear your head. If you want me gone when you get back, I''ll go."


    Neil took the car keys and the money. Orison was fairly sure that some alone time would serve the detective a whole lot more than a bucket of words. With one problem on the way of hopefully being solved, he turned to the other.


    Roughly a quarter hour later, Jacob sat up with a gasp. Eyes focused on Orison for all of thirty seconds before the man started crying like the broken hearted and lost person he was in truth. Moral clarity likely only let him see more to hate about himself which wasn''t overly helpful.


    Trying to offer some consolation, Orison said, "You were possessed, quite literally. It doesn''t excuse everything but it would be more than just hard to be a good person with a literal devil whispering dark deeds in your ear all the time."


    He saw it coming. Jacob asked if James and Jimmy were possessed and if they could help them. Orison agreed in the possibility but said the chances weren''t good. James was pretty much gone with only a few old driving principles left, like sticking up for his brother when it was convenient for him. Jimmy was a little more complicated but Orison knew who Jacob really cared about trying to save.


    It took a lot more talking through everything and some reassurances about parts of himself being actual parts of himself for Jacob to begin fishing the pieces of his shattered life into any semblance of order. Then Orison launched into a round of validating certain inconvenient truths about Jacob. Following that, they had an awkward back and forth where Orison showed support without giving false impressions of sharing inclination or having interest.


    Trying to hold it together long enough to have a coherent talk about future plans, Jacob said, "I don''t know what to do. I don''t even know where to go."


    Orison shrugged. "Aside from financially, I''m not that much better off on the stable environment front. In about two weeks, I''ll be meeting up with a friend and I''ll know more from there. When I brought you here to heal you, I wasn''t planning on doing more than making sure you weren''t going to die and sending you to figure things out on your own.


    "Working off the principle that you can tolerate just about anything for a couple of weeks, you can shadow me. If you still haven''t reached an idea by then, I''m buying you a ticket to the Cisco Bay and enough money to keep you floating for three months. I figure you have a better chance of finding your way there than anywhere else. Sound like a plan for the moment?"


    Jacob helplessly nodded.


    When Neil returned, tensions were running too high for steak and loaded potato Saturday to gloss over. A fight almost broke out between him and Jacob before the detective realized that picking on the man would just make him feel bad since a single harsh word was enough to reduce the fragile guy into a sobbing, apologetic mess. Then he almost got into it with Orison but the young mage wasn''t taking the bait. He just calmly asked if he needed to leave.


    As angry and confused as Neil was at the moment, his logic centers screamed at him how bad of an idea driving Orison away was. And it seemed that, at the moment, Jacob was identifiable as a fellow victim. Underneath it all, Neil was still a bit of a white knight, even if his armor was rusty and some of his personal life choices were questionable.


    To give them both a little piece of mind, Orison made two anti-possession charms that weren''t much more than security blankets with a pitiful amount of real protective power. Next, he made something a little more useful. Substitution poppets that had a vague similarity to their holders for curse catching were made as they were invited to watch. With a dab of blood on a little felt heart sewn into them, the project was complete and the finished mini arts and crafts festival seemed to help clear the air a bit more.


    Being introduced to such things and a strong desire to seek any lifeline to help them feel safer in a world that seemed much more hostile and dangerous to them, Neil and Jacob both wanted to be taught whatever could be. Despite having an abundant life force, each of them lacked one of the crucial elements in practicing ritual magic but together they could. Having been a victim of possession, Jacob''s soul had been stimulated to be more actively productive but his will was hazy and unfocused. Despite not portraying it well, Neil had a strong will, he was just lazy and unmotivated with little spiritual growth even by normal human standards.


    Entering an uneasy partnership, the detective and ex-thug helped fill in what the other lacked. Over the next couple of days, Orison finished preparing a primer of information that would see the two in good standing for learning and practice material for quite some time. It was a hard road but there was some hope if they stuck with the meditation, exercise and practice, they could naturally awaken to a gift. As for climbing, Orison didn''t really see them being able to reach the requirements in such an impoverished reality. Chrism was a possibility to bridge the gap but it was a lot more risky to use for such a thing than he had originally believed it to be.


    After having studied the effects of chrism, Orison discovered just how lucky he and his original companions had been to encounter it in the way they had. It was dangerous and corrupting. It took a strong soul and will to shape it into something helpful. Even the nebulous, pre-structured and tamed form Orison had originally been exposed to had nearly wrecked him in ways he hadn''t realized until much later. Using that method to directly induct a mundane into a climber would be sheer idiocy unless conducted by a person stronger and more knowledgeable than himself or anyone else that Orison knew.


    Risk versus reward, it just didn''t seem worth pursuing chrism anymore. Its benefit to himself had nearly been reduced to superior crafting material and after being briefed by Zeke, the brushes with mad gods in the illusion were like kiddie versions of the real thing. They warped and corrupted all they came in contact with. Greater reality itself rejected their presence and they could only linger in places like this, dying realities slowly drifting towards the void.


    It was pure fantasy to waltz into one''s resting place and suck it up with a couple of one use artifacts. He had been told more than once that such creatures required a group of tier fours. There was even a brief passage translated from the journal that mentioned a successful team''s capture of one. They took years to recover from it and that was considered a ''good'' run. It''s quite likely his share from the event that had turned the magi from a despotic ruler into an insane, reality hopping hermit.


    During his own studies and trainings, Orison would occasionally revisit the Neil and Jacob issue. By the third day of their roommate status, Neil and Jacob weren''t that much more comfortable with each other but they had learned to appreciate what the other had to bring to the table. The next hump was getting them past mutual use into cooperative learning.


    Taking a break from a tricky passage he was trying to translate, Orison checked in on his students'' sigil wallpaper project. "Alright, Jacob. Neil isn''t your chauffeur. You''re supposed to be interacting, not just paying for the gas... Neil, don''t edge him out. Jacob is more than just a gas tank.


    "Spirit essence is like money. You gotta spend it to make it while making sure you don''t go broke. Neil, start spending a little... Will is the spiritual equivalent to muscle. You got to wear it out so that when you rest it becomes stronger. Jacob, start exercising that flab."


    Orison was saved from the process of Neil trying to make an argument for himself before accepting and Jacob needing to be riled up before he''d step up, by a knock at the door. Neil stepped out of the kitchen before closing it''s door into the office. A minute later he came back to tell Orison it was for him, returning to the project as if he''d never left.


    What was waiting for him was three foot lockers that had lots of stamps on them. After answering a ''password'' delivery instruction, he dragged them to his room and rummaged through them. The bulk was neat junk and nonsense but carefully hidden away inside were some real gems, literally real gems. They even had a touch of boundary item status.


    Among a stack of old love letters was a codex letting Orison know of a couple of bank accounts and a few emergency stashes spread throughout the east coast and heartland areas. Hidden between scrapbook pages were translated manuscripts from different magical traditions. Finally, a ''Great Uncle Ernie'' Urn held a phylactery with a note that listed a place and date for departure.


    The phylactery was a key that could open a gate between a temple in the South Americanus continent to a secret tomb near Giza. On a certain date, that secret room would reveal a second gate that led to an inter-dimensional labyrinth. If Orison missed it, he''d have to take the back up which wasn''t available for almost a decade.


    Aside from a couple of weapons that required some assembly, there wasn''t anything else of value beyond what it appeared to be. Once he stowed away the secret stuff, making note of his space''s interest in eating the phylactery, he called Neil and Jacob to rummage through the luggage for whatever clothes and knickknacks they might want. After that, he gathered up the rest and took the remaining things over to Picket St. and let them have at it.


    When Orison went to the bank in town to close out the account, there were two telegram missives attached. The first told him where a set of purchased property was on the outskirts of New Yorkshire in response to the possible need if Neil had kicked him out. The second missive was useless since it was for the possibility that the footlockers had been delivered to Neil''s and Orison was no longer there. Zeke was a thorough guy.


    Due to that thoroughness, he''d have to meet Zeke at the new place, however. If Orison wasn''t there or a change of plans occurred, there would be a note left in one of the emergency stash points leading to whatever else the militant man had in store for him. Cloak and dagger stuff had appeal to Orison anyway. He didn''t mind at all.


    The rest of the week went without incident and the time for his date with Jen and her mysterious friend was coming up. He had a small surprise in store for them at the end of their big city weekend depending on how things went but after that, it was possible that they''d never meet again since he didn''t plan on coming back to Port Haven. Not wanting to bring Jacob along on his excursion but not wanting to leave him flapping in the wind, Orison sent him ahead by bus to his new place.


    Neil was going to get a surprise when/if he ever came over to Orison''s place, thinking that Jacob was ''gone for good''. The detective would be getting his letter of instructions the following Monday. Neil would have to make the choice himself to break free of Orison''s orbit or stay of his own accord.


    Saturday morning, Orison dressed in his best outfit and went to meet the two women at Jen''s apartment. She came running out, delighted by the new wheels he''d gotten so that he could leave the old car for Neil. A few minutes later, a pale, willowy young woman walked out. She was a couple years younger than Jen, hovering nebulously between eighteen and twenty.


    Without being two obvious about it, Orison checked out Jen''s friend, Wendy (Wednesday) from an occasional side glance. "Holy carp! It''s the godmother of goth. Black everything that can be without being distasteful, is she aware that we''re not going to a funeral? Whatever. It''s her choice and I don''t have room to talk. She makes it look good. I''ll give her that. If she''d chosen something other than a waist shirt, I''m pretty sure she''d be less ''Wednesday'' and more Morticia."


    On the long drive to New Yorkshire, Jen filled the air with words and fiddled with the radio, insuring that there was no silence but also dominating conversation. It seemed that neither he nor Wendy minded. The bartender had the kind of voice that was easy to listen to and a personality that made continuous chatter soothing rather than irritating.


    While at a diner on the northern outskirts of their destination, Orison excused himself for a restroom break only to come back to two men taking up his side of the booth, striking up conversation. One had conveniently pushed his desert over to be picked up by the waitress too. As the men noticed his existence, Wendy looked out the window in boredom while Jen looked at him with eyes that challenged ''Do you want to handle this or do you want us too?''. Potential disappointment and complete friend zone were subtly implied. It didn''t go how either the brash men or the women were anticipating.

 142 Crawling Chaos 40

    He walked up to the counter and paid for the meal. With one challenging look back at the two ladies, he walked out to his car. Starting it up, he slowly began pulling out. Seconds later, the two women were getting in the car while the two men, who''d been stunned by the women moving so quickly, were trying to play catch up. They got a face full of dust and a couple pieces of gravel.


    For her part, Wendy looked amused but Jen was visibly angry. "Why did you do that? Is a simple attempt at courteously telling two men that you were with us so hard?"


    Orison smirked and said, "Do I look ''simple'' to you? I won''t pick a fight with you I can''t win but how hard is it to keep them from getting rid of my pie? Defendeth my pie and I shall defeneth thine honor!"


    Wendy snorted from trying to hold back a laugh as Jen''s face relaxed some. "It''s still a strike against you. We didn''t start it either so don''t try to accuse us of the jealousy play deal breaker."


    Orison smiled and didn''t say a word. Once they got to the hotel they''d be staying at, he opened the door for Wendy and helped her carry her luggage.


    Making decent time to the ladies'' room, Wendy turned to Orison and said, "I don''t mind you using me as a foil for Jen''s attention but I''m kind of curious, am I not that appealing of a possibility?"


    The young mage said, "In truth, more so, but this trip is business for you. We''re just cover... I don''t know and have no desire to guess why you feel like you need one to see a book in a museum but to return the favor of being my foil, I''ll be your cover. No questions asked."


    Wendy''s smile brightened a few watts as she said, "Mr. Cantrip, I do believe I may not be so interested in just being a foil."


    A feather light kiss landed on his cheek and she was in her room with the door closed before he could formulate any coherent response. A mean feat considering his improved mental and physical responses.


    Jen came walking up awkwardly with three suitcases in hand and said, "Don''t think that ignoring me and kissing up to Wendy means I''ll- You won''t even hear me out!? That''s two strikes, you hear me!"


    Orison continued to treat her like air as he walked to his room, using as little effort as he could to avoid whatever small piece of trash she had lobbed at him. Playing courtship games with Jen was just for fun anyway. He never thought she''d take him seriously being that she thought he was sixteen and her being twenty-one but it was interesting to try. Preoccupied with the mystery around Wendy, he really couldn''t be bothered to care much.


    Sighing and looking put out, Wendy said, "Jen''s gone off the deep end and if I don''t go with her, the guy she roped into taking us to the museum might do, who knows what."


    Showing every ounce of the disappointment he felt, Orison said, "I''ll be right behind you."


    Weakly smiling, she said, "Sorry about this... You look great, by the way."


    "On the contrary, I feel like your efforts have completely eclipsed me. How am I supposed to be your cover like this?" Orison said playfully.


    Wendy quick timed back to wherever Jen was waiting with one last look back.


    Orison muttered, "Jen''s as transparent as flute crystal but if Wendy''s playing me too, I''m in trouble because I''ve completely taken the bait."


    He strolled out to his car to see a sight that completely caught him off guard. His tires were slashed and his windshield had a baseball bat''s length dent in it. Checking around the area for people who may have been waiting for him or a random passersby, he quickly got to work laying a circle and performing a round of mends. Five minutes and a lot of anger later, Orison started his car and made his way to the museum. Three more blocks down, the car died, wouldn''t restart and he wasn''t mechanically inclined enough to figure out what the problem was.


    With some help from a person at a nearby shop, the young mage got a tow truck to a nearby garage and a cab to the museum after getting a call through to Jacob to pick up the car after the mechanic was done. There was a viciousness to it all that screamed vendetta and the only culprits he could think of would be the two guys at the cafe but he had no idea how they would have found him. Nothing added up right.


    The best thing he could think of was to go and talk with Jen and Wendy. They probably wouldn''t know anything either but perhaps the guy Jen was with might hold a clue or the answer itself. It ended up being a charity night and there were a lot more high profile people than usual, especially for an exhibit that had already been on display once the previous weekend.


    Orison paid the exorbitant price of ten dollars for admission and began looking around. Near a buffet set up in a giant ballroom-like foyer, he saw Jen speaking with a person whose visage he''d seen plenty of times enough to hate it viscerally on sight. With the focus of everyone around the table on the man, there were plenty of ''Mr. Ashland''s being thrown around but the young mage knew him as Smiley.


    "A weak aura of corruption is in his very blood. He''s either swapped some potency out with a devil or he''s the offspring of one with a mortal. That would explain so much if it was true," Orison muttered as he approached.


    The young mage walked up to Jen and said without preamble, "Where''s Wendy?"


    Jen was about to answer when a wisp of corrupt essence caressed around her aura, turning her frowning face into a sneer.


    Smiley said to his surrounding admirers, "Children who plays adult games should scurry home. Really, it''s embarrassing when youths delude themselves and-"


    Orison''s control slipped a little. To keep from lashing out in a way that would only give the snake charmer more ammo to work with, he channeled the rage into his bloodlines melded into the white hole ring. He''d never actively tried to access the unique qualities of his supernatural bloodlines since they had been contained but being stimulated in such a way, they did produce results.


    Eyes snapped to him, a mix of mild awe with slow building fascination. In particularly sensitive individuals, he could smell a touch of fear and excitement.


    Taking advantage of the attention, Orison said with false cold ambivalence, "A flesh peddling predator has no moral ground to judge what anyone should do, much less children... Jen, where is Wendy? This man is a monster and your friend is in danger."


    While he was distracted trying to get Jen to talk, Smiley was doing his silver tongued best to rally outrage against Orison. When a security guard put a hand on the young mage''s shoulder, he froze the man in place with a reptilian stare and turned to Smiley.


    "I''m spiteful enough to rip your mask off right here, pimp. There might be consequences but I''ll survive them. Will you?" He emphasized the point by letting some Caribbean blue spirit shine through.


    Uncertainty wavered on Smiley''s face for a moment until it disappeared like it had never been, replaced by utter confidence.


    Seeing that the man was about to cause a scene of his own, Orison said, "Your curse twister behind the scenes and your boss will be dancing around fire ringed rose crosses if they step out to save you from what I''ll do if you utter one... more... syllable."


    The people surrounding them were confused but the momentum of will shifted to the young mage''s side and sway over the people followed. The next moment, Orison was struck by a curse with enough lethality to kill five men instantly. The comet trail of inert essence behind it was enough to drain the life out of someone in its own right. The young mage drew it into his space and pulled the gray patch emerging on his skin to a place it couldn''t be seen.


    Smiley''s trademark smirk was blooming at the sight but Orison''s arrogant head tilt and unfaltering gaze made the man turn pale. "I''ve already asked twice. Either I get an answer or I follow through."


    The devil partially possessing Jen, released its hold enough for the woman to say, "The last I saw, she was heading out back with two of Mr. Ashland''s friends but she didn''t look like she was being forced to do anything she didn''t want to. You''re overreacting. Are you jealous-"


    Orison saw that the devil was slowly pushing in on Jen, twisting her thoughts and heightening negative emotions. As soon as he saw signs of what was happening, he grabbed an abandoned champagne flute off the table, dumped some silver flakes and sea salt into it from his space and tossed the contents in her face. Invisible to everyone else, the possessor devil, which was only tenuously connected to Jen, writhed and let out a squeal only the supernaturally sensitive would notice.


    "Cool your head. I''m worried about Wendy because of him. Feel free to do whatever you want." Orison said as he looked around, hoping for someone to have noticed the devil screech. A few did but they didn''t seem to be interested in interfering.


    A woman''s voice behind him said, "It''s sweet that you''re worried but I''m fine."


    Smiley, who was breaking out in a cold sweat, tried to immediately take control of the narrative but Wendy shut him down with, "The same can''t be said for this vile man''s thugs... I hope you have medical coverage for your employees, Mr. Ashland."


    In a last ditch, Smiley said, "An amusing stage play. Do you often grift in a group or prefer to scam people individually with this contrived nonsense?"


    Sidling up beside Jen, Wendy pulled out a silver hair pin and severed the dark cord connecting the possessing devil to her friend.


    Looking at Orison, Wendy said, "Your wake up call to my friend was a little too much. She''s practically faint from embarrassment."


    Orison smiled slightly with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes , "Of course. Twas overwrought with worry, milady. Making amends post hast is my utmost duty."


    Taking the other side of the dull eyed Jen, Orison helped Wendy escort her away. Their apparent lack of concern and acknowledgment of Smiley''s previous and continued vitriol was its own form of powerful rebuke.


    As they made their way to the woman''s restroom, Wendy said, "I''m sure you have questions. I know I do."


    "Tons but my focus is on trying to make a good impression. Is it working?" The young mage said, projecting an overly dramatic hopeful look.


    Wendy giggled but it came across as demure rather than childish. "Maybe a little too well. Mind turning the aura volume down?"


    A little embarrassed, Orison pulled the supernatural flair back in. Wendy gave a sigh of relief before escorting her friend into the restroom. About five minutes from the showing, they came back out. An expert makeup job managed to cover up most of what must have been a fairly emotional moment for Jen.


    Jen looked at the young mage soulfully. "I''m so sorry, ''Orson''. I don''t know what came over me... When Mr. Ashland approached me, I was afraid to say no because he could give me and my dad a lot of trouble."


    Wendy stopped Jen before the bartender went back into an emotional breakdown. "You did what you thought you had to. I''m not going to hold that against you and I don''t think that Mr. Cantrip is the kind of guy to hold a grudge about that."


    Orison shook his head and said, "I AM holding a grudge about the pie, though. Do you know how hard it is to find good pecan pie this far north of the Mason-Dixon line? I''m starting to wonder if kitchens built in a land of oppressive racism is a successful part of the recipe for it or something."


    Attempting to pick up her spirits, Jen shot a ''fake it til you make it'' smile and said, "Well, I''ll just have to prove you wrong there. That is, if you don''t mind pralines. I know this-"


    Wendy rolled her eyes and said, "We didn''t come on a baked goods review tour. Come on, if we don''t start elbowing our way up we''re going to get eye strain during the reveal."


    Jen said, "Look at that crowd. I''m sorry, Wednesday. I don''t see how we''re going to get through that."


    With a quick wink to the young mage and a hand squeeze for Jen, Wendy said, "Just keep a hold of my hand, Jen... Does a lady need to ask for a gentleman to lend an arm, Mr. Cantrip?"


    Smiling, the young mage took the queue and offered his arm for Wendy to rest a hand on. Although it would look like Orison was leading them through, Wendy was the one directing the flow of movement as they slid from side to side. With much less effort than he expected and no need for a supernatural push of any kind, they were standing right next to the velvet rope. Only twenty feet away from the draped case, the young woman who had wavered his resolve for bachelorhood a little, gave him a mysterious smile.


    The droning of the curator that had been going on before the trio had even reached their current spot, was background noise to the young mage who was burning Wendy''s side profile into his memory. Her eyes were all for the case, however. Her preoccupation didn''t matter to him and he was fairly certain that she was aware of his slightly rude staring, not minding in the least. Jen, who was a little more versatile in her attention, gave a helpless but amused smile over their behavior before focusing on the case herself.


    As the curator reached to the end of his prepared speech, his voice slowly raised so that the people in the private balcony booths could clearly hear. "Without further ado, in house for a limited time from our friends at the Britannia Museum, we unveil for your viewing pleasure, the Book of the Dead."


    As the drapery raised with dramatic slowness, annoyed, Wendy muttered, " ''The Exposition of the Ways of the Dead'' not catchy enough for you, clown?"


    Finally laid bare to scrutiny, Orison took in the sight of of smooth, stitched leather. Its patina encrusted metal clasps framing a wailing face immortalized by the tanning process that went into its making. Dim, nearly forgotten memories inherited from Al''s soul dredged up to the forefront and mixed with the young mage''s own trauma.


    He felt the blood drain from his face. Cold sweat surfaced on his brow as his heart beat at an ever increasing tempo. Devoid of any intuitive sense of danger, his soul tried unsuccessfully to rid itself of a building dread. Vertigo assaulted his senses as he shivered, feeling like all the warmth and stability of all he knew had been sucked out of the room into the gaping maw on the book''s cover.


    Feeling Orison shivering, Wendy looked at Orison and said in a concerned voice, "I don''t know what YOU know of the book but it can''t hurt you. It wouldn''t want to even if it could. It isn''t much different than a sword or club in most ways, only dangerous in the hands of one desiring to do harm."


    On the other side, Wendy squeezed Jen''s hand reassuringly. Between Orison and her bartender friend who was disturbed for more mundane reasons, the young woman looked like she wanted to laugh but was afraid of hurting their feelings. That look faded into a more serious one when three men came to join the curator.


    As the curator handed thin, white cotton gloves to the three men, he raised a hand to bring the chatter in the room back down. "As a part of the charity event, the three highest donors will be given an opportunity to hold the book... In order of generosity, Mrs. Gorgonos'' proxy, young sculptor prodigy Nicolas Berchet will go first. After him, it will be a man who needs no introductions in New Yorkshire circles, Mr. Rothschild. Our third and final is also a proxy. Mr. Harlequin Ashland will be standing in for an anonymous patron who wishes to be known simply as ''M''."


    Even as the Curator spoke, a potent magic circle sprang to life under the museum. It had a weight of age and potency that was only matched in Orison''s mind to the Rose Cliff circle he remembered from the illusion. Not the least bit put at ease, the young mage at least recognized that the people behind the scenes weren''t completely brain dead.


    Wendy leaned in and whispered, "Some climbers who stumbled across this world might be encouraging a quicker collapse to benefit from it. The local powers that be may have set this up as a trap to catch them out. If so, I didn''t give them enough credit. That book is perfect for such a task."


    Orison''s response was, "Why are we still here?"


    Wendy replied cryptically, "For what''s coming, it''s the safest place in the world."

 143 Crawling Chaos 41

    Taking cue from the calmness of his intuition and reassurances of Wendy, Orison forced down the irrational desire to flee and watched the current play unfold. Nicolas, still a teen, held the book with repulsed fascination for a moment before the curator took it and handed it to a vaguely Jewish looking man in his mid thirties. The steel in Mr Rothschild''s eyes slightly softened into a look of of pity for the poor soul used to cover the book''s case, muttering a prayer under his breath before quickly passing it back.


    When it was Smiley''s turn, Orison''s breath unintentionally hitched. The powers behind the event were smug in their self assurance that everything was under control. Wendy had psychologically braced herself into a study of neutrality. As soon as the book passed into his hands, Smiley''s eyes danced with a desire to see the world burn that was so palpable, the young mage had to wonder why no one was trying to get the book from him.


    Wendy held him back from rushing past the rope as Smiley softly intoned a soundless word and said "I have called you by your True Name, Old One, and I command you to do my bidding..."


    Nothing happened. A few individuals in the know started subtly mocking Smiley with their eyes. When all present saw the curator approach the confused and angry man to take the book, Smiley stepped back and tried to open it. That didn''t succeed either and several people started approaching him, already bored of the amusement.


    Next, something happened that baffled them all. Looking as if he was leaning in for a quick snatch, the curator whispered something to the frantic Mr. Ashland and stood back. Wendy''s eyes widened for a moment before she started laughing.


    Filling her companions in, she said, "He corrected Mr. Ashland''s pronunciation of the true name he was trying to use. I see what they''re doing now... He''s said the name correctly this time. Jen, is there something on the bottom of my shoe?"


    Wendy distracted Jen to look down as she locked smiling eyes with Orison. A vague dimming of light occurred where Smiley was standing. The young mage was about to see what caused it when Wendy tilted her head slightly and leaned in as if she was asking for a kiss. When he leaned in to oblige, she playfully leaned backwards just out of reach, pretending to knock into Jen before pulling them to the floor.


    Indecently sprawled on Wendy, Orison made to stand up when Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck. Their display garnered quite a bit of attention from the occult melodrama surrounding Smiley. A large image of a chthonic horror silently roared overhead with nearly no witnesses close enough to be affected by it''s alien presence before it disappeared and only the gifted were fully capable of seeing it.


    The young mage was about to compliment Wendy''s situational manipulation abilities when a woman''s shriek drew everyone''s attention. A middle aged patron of the museum had saw Smiley turn into a leathery mummy and collapse to the ground. Nearly no one witnessed the ancient book open its clasps and draw in a palm sized black book with an inverted pentagram on it, seeming to have ''eaten'' the small book.


    Orison had seen it because his eyes had laser focused on the small book that blazed like a soot clogged sun in his spirit vision.


    In a display of dramatic concern, the curator ''accidentally'' kicked the unclasped book in an effort to reach the fallen Mr. Ashland. The cold metal clasps of the forever silently wailing book allowed it to slide effortlessly across the smooth marble floor to rest at the feet of a young man with a dark aura on the other side of the velvet roped area. As the man bent to pick it up, Wendy sighed.


    She leaned in and whispered to Orison, "Reach back with your right hand and pinch what it touches."


    Rather than goose the woman behind him as Wendy suggested, Orison more proactively strode forward and snatched the book out of the young man''s hand, closing it and snapping the latches shut without looking at it.


    He walked it over to the curator and said, "I understand your concern for another person''s well being but the Britannia Museum would be quite disappointed to know the person they had entrusted their precious piece of history to, callously kicked it across the floor like a playground ball. Absolutely shameful!"


    The curator''s electric blue eyes stared murder at Orison for a split second before he laughed absurdly. A doctor who was checking on Mr. Ashland''s status, glanced at the curator with a grave frown.


    Seeing whatever fun he had planned was ruined, the curator turned to everyone and said, "A young man has chastised and reminded me of my duties. Please continue to enjoy the exhibits while I insure the ''precious piece of history'' is undamaged by my callousness."


    Quite a few of the patrons looked at the curator like the man was unhinged. There were a total of three people who had suddenly became mummies. Most were already heading out. Orison was ready to leave as well but Wendy asked him to stay for just a little while longer.


    While the curator slipped into the back, Orison noted that the book hadn''t stayed in his hand for more than two seconds before it had been left to sit on a chair. The young man who had been too stunned to stop the young mage from snatching it earlier but whose eyes never left it, sprinted to and ran off with it. Once again, Wendy stopped Orison from running after.


    Frowning, the young mage said, "I know I said I wouldn''t ask. But what the hell, Wendy?"


    Looking a little like she''d been slapped, she said, "There''s rules. I''m trying to protect you from getting ensnared into them. That man had been marked to carry it. I nearly had a heart attack when you grabbed it but you handed it right to the only ''person'' in the room whose touch could sever your connection with it. It passed back to the one who had that connection before you... Please don''t leave yet. This really is the safest place to be right now."


    Looking over to see Jen having an engaging conversation with Mr. Rothschild, he relented and let Wendy lead him over to a secluded bench.


    He said, "If this is the safest place to be, should I be worried for my friends out there?"


    Wendy replied, "That''s a very difficult question to answer for many reasons. The danger is more for people like us than regular folks... If you were curious, Mr. Ashland invoked the image of a great old one. It was meant to incapacitate the gifted in this place after having collected the most powerful ones together. They didn''t interfere because some of them must have set up some kind of temporary truce as they sometimes do for events such as these."


    Orison nodded. "And due to your staged antics, there were only two victims. From what I can gather, they hadn''t been important ones either. Whoever Ms. Chantilly is, they must not have briefed Smiley, er, Harlequin very well for things to turn out this way."


    Wendy said, "No, he was probably briefed well. Nyar, ahem, the curator must have interfered or been indirectly involved with him in some way. It doesn''t really matter now... It should be safe to leave in another half hour, probably sooner but I want to make sure."


    The young mage said, "What''s happening out there, now?"


    Wendy sighed. "What is chrism to you?"


    Unabashedly, Orison shared what he knew about what he personally called miasma without saying a word about his own use of it.


    Wendy nodded and said, "Over ninety-nine percent of the supernatural community at one point or another has either taken some in or used it to create or temper something intimately connected to them if they are tier four or higher. Almost all of the chrism used or in circulation didn''t come from outsiders. It came from climbers who succumb to the after effects of chrism. They take too much and transform or they are influenced by entities that have the ability to use the lingering ties left behind by it to force that transformation.


    "Chrism from a true outsider is still somewhat alive and has the ability to consume and convert certain essences into much more of a slightly lesser version of itself. This cycle can repeat many times before the result is too weak to repeat it. What is happening out there is related to that, a ripening before the harvest."


    To distract himself from the horror of that revelation, Orison thought back to his own dealings with chrism. There was no doubt that his first encounter was from a pure source. The will of Amoril was powerless to do anything about it but shove it towards the only person in its realm that could take it in and neutralize it into something usable. There was more than a subtle intent to ''harvest'' it after the fact as well.


    The second time he encountered it on Osomo, most of its bulk had already been claimed. Orison noted that it was stronger, much larger in amount, having the ability to warp surroundings as well. It didn''t seem like it was converting much of anything to be more of itself, however. It was only contaminating and transforming things.


    Wendy pulled a small, round and smoothly polished crystal pendulum on a delicate chain. "This is a gift from my patron. Going from infrared to ultraviolet, it can test how unstable, and therefore vulnerable, a person is to forceful transformation. It can also test for how much of something is made up of chrism which is more useful for objects. If you like, I could use it to give you an idea of how vulnerable you are.


    "I won''t use it without your permission, of course. Don''t expect it to give you good news if you''ve used some chrism in the past. Are you interested?"


    Orison nodded. "Forewarned is forearmed."


    As she activated the crystal while touching it to the young mage''s skin, she joked lamely, "Four armed, you don''t even have three... Probably not the best joke to make after talking about forceful transformations. I have bad comedic timing if you couldn''t tell."


    As the crystal turned a deep red before starting to mellow out to a deep orange, Orison said, "What you lack for in that department is made up for in your nearly flawless execution of situational manipulation."


    Wendy smiled. "I can set up the dominoes pretty well but I can''t seem to talk with them very well. I find them quite wooden or boneheaded... I''m working on delivery, alright. How can I get better if I don''t practice?... I-it''s not moving past orange!? Just the casual contact you had with the book and Nya- the curator tonight would have nearly made the most supernaturally insensitive mundane, yellow!"


    Orison said, "I''m taking that as good news."


    Before he had even finished his statement, the crystal went clear for a moment before instantly jumping to yellow and steadily climbing to green. It slowed down after that but slowly creeped forward until it was fairly between green and blue. It was almost the color he perceived pure soul essence as.


    Frowning, Orison said, "Oh. It looks like I celebrated too early."


    Wendy looked at him with sheer disbelief.


    They sat silently for awhile, wrapped up in their own thoughts before she finally said, "That second time was the other kind of test. You best know yourself. I-I don''t think it''s safe for me to say anything more. There''s too much of a chance to endanger you or myself... For many reasons."


    Orison tried to at least explain that he wasn''t a conduit with a soul or anything like that but Wendy put a finger to his lips before squeezing his hand. "It doesn''t matter WHAT you are. WHO you are is pretty likable. I just hope you can keep that. Keep that and stay alive until you reach Nexus. After that, it won''t matter as much anymore."


    He looked at her to feel out if she could answer more on what the Nexus was but she only shook her head and let him know as best she could, without saying more, that she had shared what she could. As he was about to break the tension with a more pleasant topic, a shimmer of spacial disturbance ran through the air like a ripple spreading from a stone thrown into a pond. Wendy stood up staring daggers at nothing in particular.


    "You''d compromise your own plans to endanger us!? You insane Greater Old Fart!" Wendy muttered, enraged.


    Turning to Orison, she said, "The situation has changed. Because I stopped you from chasing down the man who grabbed the book, I may have saved you from something bad but I may have also endangered people who you might care for so I''ll have to move us somewhere. Please don''t fight it. I''ll try to reach as far as I can through you so if you fight it, I''ll fail and we might die or worse."


    A spectrum of light flowed around her and then through Orison. He felt it reach through him to touch others and then the idea of others from his illusion. It happened too fast for him to warn her and he couldn''t fight for fear of making her fail.


    He felt a mighty yanking sensation and was temporarily blinded by a cascade of prismatic light. As it cleared, he saw Wendy gawking behind him. When the young mage turned to look, he saw a small army of spectral entities that winked out one by one, reabsorbed by the dark ground of the gray waste they were in but there were some exceptions. Two separate Neils coalesced together and dragged the ''real'' Neil into wherever they were before merging together. Two separate teenage forms merged with James, knocking a devil out before it was consumed by the ground. Jacob''s joined with him directly since his real form was already here.


    The strangest of all the weirdness that took place was the dredging up of a stripped soul core that merged with the adult and child forms of Jimmy from Orison''s illusion. That was followed by a six inch spectral Jammers drawing out the dormant and waiting potential of the Jammers in the white hole ring of his space, merging together and tethering to the spectral Jimmy with a soul core. Without a formed physical body, the potential of Jammers had to make up the difference from his own substance and merge their dual sides together. What came into being could only be called Jimmers by the dumbstruck Orison.


    Distracted by that craziness, he was taken off guard when a ghoulish woman tapped him on the shoulder in time to see her merge with the specter of Flora she had captured. "Now the two sides of myself are better balanced, father. The conversation between us was real. Do not call upon the abyssal will or you will harm us and all we have striven to avenge and save."


    Unable to see or hear the abyssal projection that Orison experienced, Wendy looked at him in worried confusion. She was confused for different reasons when she saw the well formed visage of ''Jimmers'' disappear along with James and a few others even Orison hadn''t registered as being there and no longer would know had been. For whatever reason they had been chosen, Orison WAS aware that the scary woman who was a combination of Flora and one of his other ''children'', had spirited full and semi real people away.


    By the time that Orison shook himself out of the slightly paralyzed state that he had been in, of his people, there was; Neil, Jacob, Nicolas and a bulldog of a fifty or so year old lady that was sawing logs loudly. From a vague recollection of a picture he''d seen only once, he pieced together that the rough looking older woman was Zeke''s aunt. She wasn''t the only one who was asleep. All of his people were but she was the only one who looked peaceful. The other three were writhing and moaning as two or more different versions of the same person sought equilibrium.


    Wendy shook her head and said to him, "Only in the lower dimensions can such a nonsense thing happen from just being drawn into a ''bridge''. I hate the lower dimensions... Once you reach the mid dimensions, things are a little less ''subjective''. Reality there is quite a bit more firm and you only have to worry about things getting all topsy-turvy and twisted when there''s Outer Gods and Old Ones mucking around."


    Orison asked, "What exactly did happen?"


    Wendy said, "Out in the dying world, someone sicked the visage of a Great Old One on us. Since the guy who grabbed that book couldn''t have possibly opened it yet, it was probably the same one that was used the first time, Ghatanothoa. Turns people into mummies that are still aware but unable to do anything... Um, what do you see around you? The space around you, what does it look like?"


    Orison slowly blinked once due to the whiplash change of topic.


    He looked around and said, "Dark ground, gray sky and hazy gray mounds dotting the distance here and there."


    Wendy looked sad and closed her eyes for a moment. "Juk-Shabb, my patron, must not be able to reach you for some reason... I''ve done everything I need to do here and my patron''s called me to another world. If you make it to the Nexus, do you think you might try to contact me? I''d like to meet you again."


    He nodded and said, "It would help if I knew what the Nexus was and how to get there."


    She said, "Keep climbing once you get to the mid dimensions and it''s almost a guarantee that you''ll get there. You''ll know it once you''ve been... No one can stay here long or they''ll get lost and since you can''t see the gates, you''ll get stuck here too. I need to send you back."


    Seeing how forlorn she looked, the young mage pulled her in for a hug. Stiff for a moment, she relaxed into it for all of two seconds before giving him a peck on the cheek which he tried to turn into something more substantial. He didn''t get a chance as he found himself standing back in the museum. There were a few more ''living'' mummies present and Orison realized it probably wasn''t a good idea to stick around.

 144 Crawling Chaos 42

    In the loud silence that was the museum, Orison walked over to where Smiley lay and worked his will over the mummified man until he could finally pull the impossibly living thing into his space to be churned into near nothingness again. There was no joy in such a grim victory. He had done it only to ensure an enemy wouldn''t suddenly rise from the ashes later to haunt him again.


    Looking around and seeing no one but an unconscious Nicolas that wasn''t a mummy, much less known or a person he felt moved to give aid to, he picked up the teenager and left the museum. Upon exiting the front foyer into the dimming daylight of early evening, it was as if a vacuum of timelessness had ruptured allowing the flow of the world to return to the museum''s innards. The sounds of sirens drew nearer by the moment as he noted his car in the mostly empty parking lot.


    Inside the car, a sleeping Jacob slumped over the steering wheel. Once Orison laid Nicolas out in the back seat, he pushed Jacob over to slump into the front seat and propped the man''s feet past the gear stick. If he had been in a better mood, he might have laughed at Jacob''s somewhat painful looking fetal position as he got behind the wheel and drove off.


    As much as he didn''t want to return to the hotel, Orison needed to at least cursorily attempt to figure out what happened to Jen. After checking at the front desk, he found out that a gentleman had escorted her to pick up her and Wendy''s things. Their key had already been turned in. With nothing in his room, he did the same. Once he had reassured the concierge that nothing was wrong, they just didn''t need the room anymore, he was on his way to the new house.


    Halfway there, Jacob woke up and after a bit of a confused start, righted himself on the passenger''s side. "I had the strangest dream. Me, James and Jimmy were all young again but it wasn''t the past. It- it was..."


    Orison said nothing as Jacob cried a little.


    The man said, "Sorry about that. Even though it was strange at parts it was nice. We weren''t bad men, we were ornery kids that didn''t know much about the dark and ugly world."


    The young mage said, "It''s not the world that''s ugly, Jacob. It''s the people shaped scum decorations that make it look that way. You don''t have to be one of them anymore but that doesn''t mean you weren''t one for awhile. Atone, my leaky eyed friend. Even if you can''t be that simple and clean soul again, you can at least wash off the smoke damage from getting that close to damnation."


    A voice from the backseat said, "Where are you taking me?"


    Nicolas didn''t sound afraid. He did sound confused and the gurgling of his stomach that followed let the young mage know that the teenage ''sculpting prodigy'' hadn''t had the chance to enjoy the buffet.


    Nicolas could only see Jacob''s face from his lounging position and made some radical conclusions. "Look, no need for all of that. Just pull over and it''s five dollars for the hands. I don''t do nothing else."


    Jacob snorted. "The hook line for ''mouth is ten and the back door''s twenty but I want to see if you''ll pay more''."


    Orison did pull over then. "Firstly, don''t show off the scum thuggery knowledge, Jacob. If it''s helpful, then fine but that sh*t just flipped my stomach. Secondly, the initial response to a teenager offering inappropriate services to an adult for anything should be moral outrage at society and either distancing yourself or offer to get them whatever help they need to get out of their bad situation if you''re feeling extra goody two shoes. If you EVER lay your hands on a minor from here on, you better ask for that bus ticket to Cali before I find out about it."


    Jacob withered into his seat looking like he wished he could disappear. "I-I''m sorry. It''s just habit. I''m trying. I really am."


    Suddenly feeling like he''d kicked an old rescue dog just because it liked to bark too much, the young mage said, "I know you are and I might have overreacted a little but child predators have a special place on my sh*t list no one who can''t kick my a** should ever want to be on."


    Nicolas had a strange look on his face as he practically gawked at Orison before he said, "Hey, it''s not a big deal. I''m really not like that, though. I just figured if I was yanked up by a funny uncle or something, I''d rather close my eyes and pretend to wet some clay for a fiver than end up locked in a basement or floating face down somewhere."


    Orison was about to comment on that when he heard something on the radio that got his attention. An emergency national broadcast was urging people to stay in their homes and off the streets in all major metropolitan areas of the east coast and southern gulf. He was about to crack a joke about jumping on the bus to Cali WITH Jacob when an update talked about fault line activity that was strong enough to shake the Hollywood sign loose.


    The car lapsed into silence over the string of natural and man made disasters that had racked up across the Nation. There were incidences elsewhere in the world but this was a ''patriotic'' station. It was also the only one on air. When a pastor of one protestant denomination or other got on and started bible thumping, Orison turned the radio off.


    As they pulled up to his house, Orison took it in. Somewhere between a castle and a max security prison, he wondered what the person who built it was thinking of. Some of that was answered due to Nicolas'' knowledge and love of architecture. It boiled down to the man having a schizophrenic break in later years, nearly bankrupting himself to build it. The man''s son had held on to the property for nearly two years before Zeke came along and snatched it up for pennies on the dollar to keep the bank from seizing it.


    Orison could see why it wouldn''t appeal to the standard homeowner. It was quite oppressive looking and upkeep would be hell. Despite all of it''s amazing plethora of features, it was ugly. Twenty years down the road, it would cost more to maintenance the place than it probably cost to build it.


    Zeke had an interesting arrangement for it that Orison really didn''t know what to think about. He wasn''t the actual owner. He held a ten year lease on it that would default to the security firm that would be responsible for manning it while he lived there. A whole platoon of Great War veterans with a need for stability and purpose would be occupying the front quarters. The back half and all its amenities were Orison and friends'' private areas.


    The nicest part of the arrangement, as far as the young mage was concerned, was that he and up to five others of his choosing were capable of mooching breakfast and lunch whenever they wanted and he could request evening meals as long as he provided any additional funds or ingredients for it at least a full day in advance. He had all the comfort, privacy and mundane protection a person could want with just the right touch of reminders he wasn''t supposed to be getting settled in.


    After a little consult with the teenage Nicolas, they called his patron/guardian to find that no one would answer. With all the chaos at the moment, he agreed to stay until Mrs. Gorgonos could be contacted. Once Nicolas and a bribe to the cook was squared away, the young mage tried to contact Neil.


    He couldn''t get a hold of the detective either but that ended up being pointless when Neil came strolling into the den in exercise clothes. The detective had appeared here near where Zeke''s aunt was sleeping in the front quarters. A tense situation later, he was doing an evening run and weight lifting with the crew. Out of all of them, Neil was probably the most comfortable one with the present situation.


    Once he was relatively settled in, there was a knock on Orison''s door. Behind it was a somber man in his late twenties. He introduced himself as Mitchell, no first name needed.


    "Alright, Mr Mitchell, who the f*** cares about your first name. What do you want?" the young mage sad, put off by the cold attitude.


    The somber man said, "Clear lines is what I want, Mr. Cantrip. I know and trust Zeke. I don''t know you and I don''t know your friends. We are your trouble catchers but I hope you can keep that to the minimum. We got a spook in our unit and we aren''t ignorant. We''ll mind our business and you mind yours. You got a problem with one of my people, you bring it to me.


    "I don''t give a damn if they knocked the teeth out of one of your friends. You come to me. I''ll handle it and I''ll play fair as long as you do. Do we have an understanding?"


    Orison said, "No, and if you don''t want your ass kicked into a meatball from one side of this place to the other with god and everyone else as witness, you''ll leave through the door you just entered and try again with a little more courtesy."


    The man gave a half smile and said, "Meet me at the front court chip pit in thirty minutes. Let''s see how much baby powder I can knock from your diaper, junior."


    The young mage muttered to himself, "It''s f***ing Captain Nadir all over again." Shouting down towards the back of Mitchell, he added, "Make sure as many of your people are there as you can. I don''t entertain on demand but I''ll make an exception today."


    Half an hour later, Orison came down in his teaser suit. The chip pit was a circle pit filled with sliced up chunks of tire and he could feel a hum of magic from it. This was going to be a rigged fight. He looked at the spirit line that led from it to a Latino man nearby and smiled at their ''spook'' before stepping in.


    Immediately, Orison felt something hinder the mobility of his legs as Mitchell swept him. Unfortunately, there wasn''t much that Orison could do but try to fall with control. His body felt stiff for a split second and he landed awkwardly instead. Seeing how things would go, Orison brute force surged about twenty times the magic juice stored in the circle and popped the curse twists in it like overfed ticks.


    Mitchel dealt a heel kick to Orison''s tailbone while the young mage had been occupied trying to recover from the circle effects. Apparently, the man wanted to give a lesson in pain that would last awhile. Orison wanted to do the same.


    As Mitchell put the force of his body into a knee to the spine between Orison''s shoulder blades, the young mage twisted and shot a palm into Mitchell''s lower torso with power just shy of rupturing intestines. As the man forcefully released everything he had down there, out, Orison knocked the slumped over man out with an elbow to the temple.


    At that point, the six people who had been jeering at Orison from the sideline, rushed in to put some pain on Orison themselves. Having flooded the circle with his own energy, he reconstructed the models in it by using the circle''s own memory of them and turned them on at full force for everyone. As they did a fairly good job at hurting themselves or each other, the young mage hobbled out of the circle and started studying it as if what was going on inside had nothing to do with him.


    "Mind leaving about half that power in there? We could do a lot of good training with that and I could use more of my ''ache'' for something else," their ''spook'' said conversationally.


    Orison nodded. "I''ll fill it back up when I''m done. I''ve already added you as an exception if you want to start pulling out the ones who aren''t conscious anymore or have broken something."


    As he started pulling people out, Santos introduced himself. "Aiya! Man, take it easy. I''m going to be up all night trying to fix all this."


    The young mage said, "That''s YOUR pain for being involved in this sh*t show. If I hadn''t seen a vaguely recognizable healing sigil in there, you''d have been in there too."


    Santos shook his head and muttered, "Ruthless." Suddenly, his head shot up and he added in a somewhat squeaky tone. "You can see them!? Then you''re studying my legacy!???


    Orison shrugged and said, "You whip it out, I''m gonna look. Just to compare, mind you. I don''t want to touch it or anything."


    Santos chuckled. "You''re a sick f***er, you know that? We''re gonna get along just fine."


    As the last couple of people finally endured enough suffering, Orison struck up a conversation with Santos. He found that he liked the guy enough to blood anoint the brujo''s eyes so he could teach the packaging trick normally used on enchantments. To return the favor and sucker Orison into helping him heal his friends, Santos led the young mage through his version of circle healing. It wasn''t overly different.


    Where Orison leaned on the more gentle and nourishing nature of plants, Santos harnessed the raw and explosive vitality of animal parts but the core concept of sacrifice was the same. When blended, Santos'' method added a little speed of healing to what the young mage was used to. Even if it was a little slower in eyes of the brujo, Orison''s method left fewer traces of the injury after the healing was done.


    One of the bigger and meaner looking of their group came up to Orison after they were done sorting everyone out. "Bet you''re not such a hot shot without your magic tricks."


    Bored, the young mage said, "Dude, I could be naked, blind and half frozen to death and still stomp your d*ck into the dirt. Go find somewhere to cool off before I embarrass you."


    Before the man had a chance to mouth off, Mitchell said, "He''s on Zeke''s level. We''re child''s play. When I stomped his tailbone, I felt like I was kicking a shock spring."


    Orison mumbled, "Still hurt like hell. It''s even going to bruise for a couple of hours."


    Mitchell asked, "Can I see your full strength punch with whatever fighting style you have? There''s a knuckle tough pole over there."


    "No." the young mage said and walked away.


    He recognized that the log wrapped in hemp close to the top was a kind of rudimentary psi testing device. Orison''s destructive power didn''t come from applied strength alone and likely wouldn''t even match the top person there. It would only serve to make him look like he could be challenged which was the opposite of what his whole point for agreeing to this alpha male chest pounding crap was to begin with.


    Instead, he parkour climbed up the nearest tower and paid respects to the person who had a scoped rifle trained on him the whole time. Having passably managed to scare the crap out of the guy by climbing it faster than most would take to jog the same distance on flat land, he excused himself and made his way back to his room. Inside, he found that all the furniture had been moved out.


    He took a deep breath and headed to the dinning room area. There was only two members of the group that was bouncing up and down on his last nerve but one of them had made the mistake of sneezing while taking down his curtains. The young mage walked up to the man and introduced himself with his driver''s license.


    Giving a saintly smile, Orison said, "Nice to meet you. As soon as you''re done having your late meal, you and your friends are going to return my furniture before ten. IF you don''t make that happen, within the next day or two, you will not have a single hair on your entire body. Santos won''t be able to bring it back if he has a raise from the dead ritual at his disposal.


    "If someone else ever violates my private area like that again, people will need to hold a seance to contact them. It''ll probably just be a whole bunch of screaming sounds phonetically spelled out, though... Enjoy your meal."


    Noting that it was already a quarter til nine, it would be a whole lot harder to carry up than down and he wouldn''t be able to do it by himself, the man slurped down his food in under three minutes and went rushing off to find help. After having checked the remainder of Jacob and Nicolas'' food for some form of hazing tampering and finding none, he made a little chit chat and then stood at the entrance of the kitchen door.


    "Out of morbid curiosity, if I had wanted to eat something, what would you have done to it? If you have any idea why everyone seems intent on hazing me in one way or another, I''d be appreciative to know the answer to that as well." Orison said to the relatively nice seeming man who ran the kitchen.


    The cook stopped brick scrubbing the grill and said, "No one messes with the food. Even if I hated you, I would refuse to make you something rather than waste good food. As for the second, because you''re Zeke''s family, I think most of them want to see how much like him you are."


    Orison said, "That sounds like a hair of truth to cover a ton of bullsh*t. My tolerance is officially used up. Everyone better thank whatever deities they believe in that no one had f***ed with my friends. If you guys had even an ounce of an idea what kind of day I had before coming here, none of you would have had the balls to do what was done except for the exceptionally stupid or suicidal."


    He laid down the garage receipt that Jacob had just given him along with a museum ticket stub and walked out.

 145 Crawling Chaos 43

    Over the next two days, no one messed with Orison or his trio of guests. He had even received a couple of apologies. Interestingly enough, Mitchell wasn''t the person in charge, Zeke''s aunt was, at least administratively. She was also the meanest and roughest of the bunch and didn''t seem too keen on becoming friends with the young mage. He just shrugged it off.


    The wave of lunacy that seemed to have temporarily gripped the city died down by Sunday morning and even though it would take time for things to return to normal, there wasn''t much of a lasting affect overall. That was the case for the surface of things only. On the supernatural side, many secret societies had faced a huge disaster. Even members of the ''new blood'' who were supposed to be the darlings of the dark forces at work were caught in the unexpected cross hairs of chaotic events.


    The greater tragedies of lost life due to mysterious circumstances like the museum or purely mundane varieties like the city riots that broke out didn''t have much of a personal impact on Orison. There were some complications he didn''t really know how to handle, however. Mrs. Gorgonos'' mansion had been ransacked and set on fire. The early uncovering of dark deeds had forced her to flee and go into hiding.


    Since she was Nicolas'' legal guardian, he reverted to being a ward of the state. That was no big deal. It was easy enough to get the guy emancipated but Orison didn''t really have much use for him. Out of the vague sense of friendship and camaraderie he had for the sculptor, he''d help the guy out but didn''t have any inclination to bring anyone else on board for the journeys he soon planned on making.


    Since the cook was the only one out of the whole bunch who was both relatively stable but not saddled with family outside of work, Orison pitched the idea of sponsoring Nicolas'' emancipation at him first. There seemed to be some kind of magnetic pull of sympathy for the man who primarily made food for his livelihood and the boy who looked like he was perpetually on the verge of staving to death. It made sense to Orison and he would let things play out by ear from there.


    He noted that there were clear lines drawn between himself and the rest of the staff there. The families of the core group, especially the women, had made it obvious that their interactions were purely business with no desire to make friends or even interact more than what was necessary. It irked the young mage but he could also understand to some degree.


    The wives and older daughters of the core group treated other male members in much the same manner, outside of the rare exception. The unspoken rule was obvious. It was almost the same as military. There were the ''civilians'' and there was the ''group''. One group member getting chummy with another group member''s family was taboo unless they were close friends but the ''civilians'' could interact freely, guided by different rules.


    While he waited, he trudged through some more translation and read through the material that Zeke had sent in the footlockers. Inspired by what he had learned, he made a rudimentary focus and channel set that would work as a portable ritual circle for small but useful effects. The carved wooden ring and wand didn''t have much durability but they were just instruments of practice anyway.


    Neil became a whole lot more useful after his merge with his illusion selves. Their imparted knowledge and understanding didn''t directly translate but the ''dreams'' inspired greater competence and understanding. Orison had him busy researching future targets and doing some light monitoring of potential adversary''s movements to either avoid or preemptively strike. Much like every time before, Neil wasn''t going to want to stay under the young mage''s umbrella for long. For good or ill, the man would still want to go his own way, albeit with greater ties of friendship than before.


    Jacob was the opposite. Set adrift, he would self destruct in no time. He was like lichen looking for a sturdy rock or tree to cling to. Not completely sure what he planned on doing with Jacob moving forward, the young mage split the man''s focus between some practical training by Mitchell and some esoteric guidance from himself when he had a moment to spare.


    Mitchell actually ended up being fairly good natured as long as he was getting something out of it. In this case, it was a set of Neil''s supplement regiment. The man had been taken with Neil''s explosive and visible daily improvements. Fortunately, he hadn''t been pushy about its secret ingredients or Orison would have immediately cut him off. A single evening of head scratching from Santos sealed the deal on the mercenary ''Director of Activities'' attempts to create a bulk version for his whole core group.


    As the days slipped by and Orison slowly teased out the kernels of truth from the illusion he''d been trapped in, it was Nicolas who ended up being the biggest boon in his life. With the absorbing of his ''dream'', Nicolas acted like the young mage was a long time friend, sharing visions of ideas and serving as a wholesome vent for frustration through little projects. The guy had even set up an informal art class to make the most of his situation, earning a decent amount of materials and supplies for personal endeavors. The bulldog of an old lady even sprang for a kiln and some extra glazes, joining the craze to create personal flower pots, mugs and the like.


    The last time Nicolas had checked in with Orison, the guy had earned his chops enough that he was in the discussion to do some rebar and concrete roman statuary for the place to solidify its public image. The full vision was a four year project and would make a master stroke center work for an artist portfolio. It would take much less time but Zeke''s aunt dismissed emancipation and adopted Nicolas directly, enrolling the poor guy back into school. Since she genuinely seemed to have Nicolas'' best interests at heart, there was no reason to fight it.


    The day that Zeke showed up, the entire compound flew into a huge celebratory party. Orison was confused at first. The man almost pretended like he didn''t exist. A quick message passed read that Zeke would speak with him in private the next night but for reasons that couldn''t be shared, he had to keep a certain distance. Since that was the case, the young mage shut himself up in his room to not feel the continual sting of being treated as an extra and the gloating eyes of a few members of the security group who had taken a slight disliking of him for one reason or another.


    In the middle of the second day, Nicolas came up to see if Orison wanted to join the trip to Walt World. Zeke had some important thing he was setting up and he wanted to make sure that everyone''s families were happy and safe. When the young mage politely declined, Nicolas offered to stay but Orison said it was better if the sculptor went.


    He said, "Nick, go and have a blast. You can''t say anything but I''m involved in what''s about to happen."


    Nicolas, looking uneasy and concerned said, "Alright but be careful. I never really got the vibe that any of these folks were good people except for Cookie and Aunt Constance. I know you two bump heads but she really is a sweetheart under all those wrinkles."


    Orison tilted his head thoughtfully. "Is the cook going with you guys?"


    Nicolas nodded. "He''s driving the bus."


    "Is anybody not going that should be?" Orison asked.


    The young sculptor mulled it over and said, "Mitchell''s daughter is visiting her mom at Shady Grove but other than that, I''m pretty sure it''s everybody."


    "Where''s Neil and Jacob?" the young mage added.


    "I think that Neil''s checking out his new office. Jacob went with him as far as I know." Nicolas said uncertainly.


    After giving a promise to bring souvenirs, Nicolas scooted off, trying to hide his excitement.


    Orison thought, "What the hell are you up to, Zeke?"


    He wouldn''t have to wait long before he got an answer. A few minutes after the bus left, several box trucks came in two at a time. Large crate after large crate were wheeled into the underground storage warehouse. At that time, Zeke walked in to his room.


    Without wasting a second, Zeke handed Orison the ring and trainer. "Don''t open or look at them til you finish your next step. Quickly, put them away while the spy''s attention is somewhere else."


    Although disquieted, Orison did so. A small sense of foreboding was growing.


    Zeke reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out what look like a silver charm bracelet version of a tumble weed, handing it to Orison.


    He told the young mage, "Drip your ''special'' blood on it like you did when you were trying to help me see safely that one time. After that, read this piece of paper while placing it on your forehead."


    The ex-soldier''s action''s didn''t make the sense of dread grow, so Orison didn''t think much of it. He''d seen stranger protection artifacts. He''d even made a few that completely eclipsed the veiny ball in macabre design.


    Hearing the urgency in Zeke''s voice, Orison pulled a bit of fused spiritual bloodline from the ring of the white hole in his space and followed the instructions. Once he was finished reading the paper, gibberish code words as far as he could figure, the small silver ball uncoiled. Although it didn''t hurt more than an initial pinch, feeling its cold tendrils worm their way into his head through veins felt wrong.


    Zeke said, "I''ve been told it doesn''t feel pleasant but its protection is one of the best."


    Orison struggled not to have his space draw it in. "Been told by who, Zeke? This sh*t''s going straight for my spiritual seat after wrapping my head up."


    Zeke nodded. "The most important and least protected parts."


    The moment the first tendril touched his spiritual seat, Orison''s instincts screamed a song of panic. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that the artifact burst into rapid motion. His soul felt sealed as he lost motor function of his body. He tried to reach out to his space but couldn''t. Even the instinct that had tried to warn him too late was completely silent.


    As he flopped down onto the bed, a feeling of boneless paralysis seized him. Zeke''s friendly face suddenly looked much more sinister. The ex-soldier leaned down and deactivated the teaser suit using the emergency override for medical personnel. With one last lingering look that would only show itself as acting to a person who knew Zeke as well as Orison, the man used the young mage''s over robe to wrap him up.


    Positioning to pick him up, Zeke whispered in his ear, "Trust in your key. The only one you need. Sorry for the next part. It''s going to be unpleasant."


    The ex-soldier picked him up into a princess carry before licking his face and making some lewd comments that sounded completely out of character for the man who pretty much only got excited for fighting and fighting equipment.


    "Dude''s version of a dirty mag is a gym equipment catalog. Is it because of the life he had or is it because he''s originally a metal ball who shape changes into equipment and stuff like boxing gloves are like boobs to an entity like that? If I was a gauntlet, would a boxing glove look like a soft, feminine version of myself?" Orison thought among other random things to distract him from the gibbering terror of being at the mercy of someone else with only a thin veil of trust between faith that everything was alright and hopeless despair.


    From his vantage point in the center of the room, the young mage couldn''t see much but the ceiling, scary enough with all the fresh bloody scrawling on it. He knew that there were living things in the crates and through them he could hear some noises that didn''t even sound like animals from nature, much less human. There were plenty of those too but they were all personnel of the security company.


    Orison stopped paying much attention when chatter turned into a nearly endless round of back slapping, vulgarity and cultist ramblings. He would have chuckled when he heard Santos shout something about entering men but leaving young gods but he was only able to breath a little more roughly. There was some apprehension that even if Zeke was on his side, there was going to be a lot of death and he was somewhat unwilling to be a part of that even if it ended up being beneficial to him.


    Those thoughts slowly faded away and were replaced by a strong desire to murder some of these men himself as he heard some of the bragging nearby. At home and in public these men might be able to pass for your average Joe with a few exceptions. But in private or at ''work'', Orison was starting to get the impression that these men were true monsters in people skin.


    Mitchell called for the crowd to calm down. "Everybody, give a big round of applause for the strike team who diligently hunted down the ingredients for tonight''s feast!"


    The sound of cheers and clapping were almost deafening. Most were applauding themselves, which Orison found passingly amusing. The sense of brotherhood and unity the group gave off would be touching if they were soldiers defending their country but the goals and ambitions that held this group together were far darker.


    As the crowd quieted again, Mitchell continued, "The man of the hour needs no introduction. Most of us were given a helping hand or outright had our a**es pulled out of the fire by him. It was his tip-off, organization and leadership that had brought this dream to fruition... Give all you''ve got to let Zeke know what he means to us."


    If the noise before was almost deafening, the racket that proceeded to follow, constituted sound torture.


    Apparently unhurried, Mitchell let them wear themselves out before he moved on. "But there is no ''I'' in this team. Every one of our brothers is a vital drop of blood in the veins and heart of this assembly, this sacred body... Before we continue, a moment of silence for the precious drops spilled, our beloved brothers lost in the pursuit of our goal. Their family is our family. Their blood, our blood."


    After a full minute went by in total silence, Mitchell raised an index finger high and the whole assembly let out shout in thundering unison, "One blood!"


    Mitchell turned the floor over to Santos. "Brothers... many of you here have come to me with a heavy heart and burdened soul. I am no priest but I showed you the salvation that my teacher showed me. You have felt it lift the darkness from you, showed you the superficial nature of sin and that the strong only need pay it when they are not wise.


    "You need not be a believer, only true to each other. You need not have faith, only trust in your brother. A moment of silence for the souls who have gone before to carve paradise out of the abyss for us in trust that we will not fail them."


    Another melodramatic minute of silence passed by before Santos pointed at his heart, bringing another booming shout, "One soul!"


    Orison shouted in his mind, "Two earplugs!"


    Santos continued, "Some of you may feel uneasy after having seen the things that you have brought here. Allow me to give you assurance... You all know how sin eating works. You bring a person into your confidence, earn their affection and willingness. After that, you get them to take a crown of thorns willingly and then pass your sin on to them. If you''ve done it right, they will only care for you more when they are done, allowing you to use them over and over until their soul falls. Whether man, woman or child, what do we call this person?"


    The assembly shouted, "Sister."


    Santos nodded. "As Eve sinned first and brought man into sin, so too shall our ''Eve'' be made to bear it again in turn."


    Even as Orison freaked out over the revelation of the ''crown of thorns'' and how it worked, he still had some side brainpower to snark inner commentary how screwed up Santos was.


    The brujo came to his point. "We have the ultimate ''Eve'' here tonight. This ''sister'' wears a crown made with a thorn from the greatest ''sister'' to ever live. We all know that one by a different name but that divine piglet drank down the whole world''s sin for just one dark moment before falling. It is told differently but we know the truth for we have seen the truth."


    Orison screamed in his mind. "Are you f***ing for real!? Slap around a few misappropriated labels and use misogyny to distance the assailant from the victim. Suddenly, the truth has never been so clear! Give me a damn break!"


    The young mage''s mood plummeted even more hearing vile comments about the ''sisters'' and how ''thirsty'' they could be. Even worse, Mitchell made a comment to Santos about his newest ''sister'' he was almost done grooming and realized the man was talking about Jacob.


    Lost to impotent rage, Orison missed the rest of Santos'' speech but he didn''t need to hear it to understand what his role was. Every bit of vileness and corruption would be poured into him while they would keep whatever good stuff came from this ritual. With no abyss to fall to, he wondered what would happen to him or where he would go. It was at that moment that he realized, he''d lost faith in Zeke and begun to despair.

 146 Crawling Chaos 44

    There was nothing to reach for, nothing to call on that could hear him. Even if the young mage could see and hear, even if he could feel, he was no less a prisoner of his own body. Twelve strangers'' faces leered down at him, insulted every facet of his existence. Twelve mouths mocked all that Orison thought of as good and wholesome, that he strove to reflect more greatly in himself. Those faces didn''t focus on him for long.


    Once the ritual was under way, the strange noises coming from the crates reached new heights, trumpeting a clarion call of agony that was completely alien yet suffocating in it familiarity. From the peeling wails of men that followed, Orison realized that the ritual was divided into circles. The outer circle of participants had just been overwhelmed.


    A man from the middle said, "Santos, what''s going on? Why is that happening?"


    Zeke answered. "You were instructed not to talk during the ritual and he can''t answer. If it helps put your mind at ease, those are chrysalis shells. All of you will have them. Once the spillover reaches the center, the sin eating will remove the corruption, leaving only that which is useful."


    Several doubtful murmurs ceased. Instead, they now braced for a pain they now knew was coming, assured that all would be resolved as they were told. The irony was so thick, Orison thought he would choke and die on it before the corruption did. A whole group who was intimately aware of how the whole sin eating concept worked, blindly and willingly put their trust into what was likely some kind of pyramid scheme of predation.


    He had a sudden realization. Each ring acted to purify and condense what he could only believe was chrism. He wasn''t the only sin eater. They all were. He was only the last stop and repository. That didn''t make it any less deadly.


    The saddest part of all of this was, before Orison had been adjusted and everything brought into best alignment, he would have jumped to gobble down as much chrism as he could stand but now, it was all structure poison. Whether it was himself, his space or his fragile conduit, all of it would only be harmed by taking in chrism.


    If he was in control of himself, he could try to compress and isolate it til it could be used or passed on. As it was, he could only passively observe as he absorbed it until he too was surrounded by a chrysalis. The only positive note, he wouldn''t live long enough to turn into a twisted abomination or possibly a mad god.


    One of the twelve people around him said, "Uh, Zeke. How about you take the honor?"


    The ex-soldier was halfway there before Mitchell said, "We talked about this. If someone chickened out, I get their spot. You only get it if a second does."


    Unable to move, the man cried out in bubbly voiced accusation and horror at the realization of what was happening before his face sealed over. "You sacrificed us all! Ahhhgurblurble!"


    Mitchell said, "It''s finally past the part where we have to pretend. All those nasty f***ing miscreants are going to die at last... How many of our good men will this harvest support, Zeke?"


    The ex-soldier sighed. "Enough to stand on equal footing with any other society... Damned or not, I take no joy in seeing them fall. They were the worst of the worst but they treated me like family and put their trust in me."


    With heavy condescension in his voice, Mitchell said, "If a pig treats you like family, will you feel sad when you slaughter it for food?"


    Zeke simply said, "Yes. More so if it was my pig."


    Mitchell turned to look at Zeke in actual disgust. "How can someone so powerful be so weak. If I had the stren-"


    Whatever else Mitchell was going to say was torn away by the spray of bullets that chewed through him. Half a second later, another spray let out but the teaser suit that Zeke wore stopped it from accomplishing anything as he stood in front of Santos.


    In an almost hypnotic tone, Zeke droned, "Nothing can be done. In seconds, Orison will begin filling with the..."


    From behind him, Santos said, "It makes gods, yes? Then ambrosia is a good name, no?"


    The ex-soldier continued. "Whatever you want to call it, he''s going to start filling with it. If you want to stop it, you can put yourself between-"


    The answer was another spray of bullets that kept going until empty clicking sound followed.


    Zeke cleared his throat and tried a third time. "In less than five seconds, he''ll start taking it in...two...one."


    Suddenly, a sobbing Jacob threw himself on top of Orison. It wasn''t the most pleasant of sights but it was touching. The young mage also thought it was pretty pointless of a sacrifice outside of the intent it showed. Somewhat overwhelmed with sadness, Orison hoped that maybe willing sacrifice would take a chunk out of the smoky film on Jacob''s aura before he turned into a chrysalis as well.


    "You stopped me from becoming a monster. I may not be able to return that favor but if I can''t then, at least I tried. Maybe that''s enough? I hope it-" was all that Jacob managed before he started silently screaming.


    He wasn''t a tough guy. How the man had managed to hang around the crowd he did probably had a lot to do with how intimidating James was and how the trio were never seen apart.


    Zeke said, "If you wait too long to act, me and Santos will be able to stop you from taking it."


    A young man holding a familiar book came into view. Before he could say whatever words were about to issue from a mouth hooked into a smirk, Zeke was in front of him like a blurry magic trick. By the time the young man registered that he was capable of seeing his own rear end, Zeke finished twisting his head off, letting the shower of blood coat the book before tossing it on top of Jacob. Just like that, the random, dark souled man who had briefly came to Orison''s attention in the museum, was no more. Not knowing where the feeling came from, the young mage felt like a person who was supposed to matter much more than he did, had just ceased to be.


    "Santos, if you stop the ritual, you''ll die." Zeke said with the same slightly depressed tone a person might use to inform someone that it started raining.


    The brujo said in a strained voice, "Tell me something I don''t know.


    Zeke said, "Alright. Here in a second, the book on Jacob is going to possess him and use him to do something that''s going to make the ritual much harder... You didn''t know that and it''s why I warned you."


    When Jacob stood up, white eyed and shouting about some daughter of darkness and mother of a thousand young, Santos heavily panted, "Pinche cabron!"


    As the fabric of reality above Orison sagged, vaguely resembling a mother offering to feed a fussy baby, his half real remnant of conduit floated out of his chest and positioned itself above his head. The book in Jacob''s hand practically flew out of it, intent on eating the semi transparent sapphire with a key inside it. A whispered word from Zeke caused Orison to be wrapped in a world of pain as dozens of small hymnals with inverted pentagrams burst through his chest.


    The ruby ring in his space was still connected to Zeke and the man had just called for the release of all the objects in its main gem. Every single one of the books was similar to a conduit. Each one contained the impression of having sealed souls in them and even if their ''owners'' were no more, the greater issuer would want them back. So summoned in such mass, his space was unable to hold them from ripping their way back into the world from the weakest point of his space.


    Things became hard to follow after that. What Orison knew was that the soul holding books distracted the ''silently wailing'' book long enough for the key to do what it was wanting to do. For a brief moment, Orison felt like the key could do what he wanted or he could leave it to do what seemed best. A flood of possibilities crossed his mind, that may or may not work but his fragile conduit wouldn''t survive most of them.


    It irked him that his one choice in all of this seemed to have fallen into Zeke''s scheme. At that point, he wasn''t sure if he could trust the man or not. Still, his conduit had one prime directive and it was to be the ''one'' key he needed and this situation was beyond the point were any single action of his was capable of fixing so he bet big and let it ride, trusting his key as Zeke instructed. Inside, he was seething. For good or ill, Zeke had things to answer for.


    Finished chasing what fleeing hymnals it could, the book set its goal back on Orison''s conduit as the key shined, freed to follow its own directive. A sickly sweet smell, like milk on the verge of going bad, filled the room as everything became distorted. Orison knew no more.


    ***


    Santos approached the ''thing'' in the center of the room. The thing wasn''t very aware of itself but it was curious about the man-thing coming near it.


    Santos said, "Zeke told me that for a short time, you''d be able to recall things you saw or heard around this part of your sealing... You''ll probably be confused and angry later so I hope this helps. I''m going to give you the short version.


    "Your buddy tried a couple of different ways to get you a ticket out of this doomed world but obviously failed... He found out why... You got a mean old thing after your a**. It doesn''t just want a piece, either. It wants the whole damn thing.


    "He had to make you disappear and find a way to smuggle you out. Now there were plenty of ways to do that which would be bad for you but to do it in a way that would be good for you was one hell of a challenge. He''s also got a heart too big for his own good and wanted to help other people too. Lots of f***ing people, amigo.


    "So there''s this scary chica, Noxflora. Her and a bunch of bruha got this scheme bubbling in their pots to fake ''damn'' people and then yank them up. Don''t know how Zeke caught wind of it but we tried playing in. We drummed up a herd of dirty cabrones and then pushed that dirt on some good people. She catches them and then we send those goats to the slaughter, taking their dirty sh*t back on their way out the door. We only got one good run but it was one hell of a fiesta. The rest of that was Zeke doing Zeke. I have no f***ing clue what all happened. Most of the time I had my eyes closed.


    "Ah, you''re looking sleepy. At least I think you are. It''s hard to tell with all those eyes... Then let uncle Santos tell you a quick bedtime story, mijo... Once upon a time, there was too much crap in a little man''s way to get the hell off a rock. One of the little man''s friends did a whole bunch of crazy sh*t and found a way. I don''t know how the rest of the story goes. Maybe you can tell me later.


    ***


    The creature''s life started out simple. It would stalk things with heavy souls and eat them. After a little more time went by, it added a new routine. When it started feeling heavy itself, it would find a thing with a ''light'' soul and squirt the heavy at it. This made it feel strange sensations it would later understand as guilt, embarrassment and pleasure.


    A little more time went by and it''s life rapidly became more complex. First, it became aware of a thing inside of it that wasn''t part of it that told it what to do and then it became aware of something that wasn''t part of it that ate some of what it ate and some of the stuff its body made. That was fine. An instinct it had, let it know that what it ate was food but what ate it from the inside was spawn. It didn''t feel like it could make spawn, so it was happy to find out that it had one.


    Soon enough, it was stronger. It started hunting heavy souls that it hid from before. Sometimes it won and got to eat and sometimes it lost and had to run through one of the anywhere holes that its food couldn''t see or use for some reason. When the stronger heavy souls started hunting it back, the situation became frustrating. There were even a couple of times it would swallow some of the heavy air and put part of itself in it so the spawn would have something to eat.


    With little choice, it went back to the lesser food and started to migrate. That was when the thing inside that told it what to do, nudged it south. The controlling thing also nudged it to start imitating its prey, learning how to be human. Within days, it could pass for one at a distance and after a month or so, it had learned how to take a few different forms. When it wanted to be left alone, it would imitate a scary man. When it wanted to hunt, it would take the form of a fragile woman or a child. Both seemed to work well for heavy and light souls alike. They worked even better after it learned how to be ''pretty''.


    Once it had learned how to pass as a human well, the controlling thing started telling it where to find hidden caches that had money and other things useful to humans inside. With the help of such resources, moving great distances and more elaborate hunting became possible. That became important as the people hunting it were learning its old tricks and it had to become more cunning to stay ahead of them.


    As it developed greater intellect, its forms not only were becoming more flawlessly human imitative. It was also becoming capable of simulating human experience. Sympathy and repulsion evolved into compassion and disgust. Love and hate were harder and so were the proper lines for pleasure and pain. Over a year went by before such complicated and dynamic concepts became somewhat understood.


    By then, an instinct was warning the creature that its pursuers were slowly closing a net around it. To escape, it fasted for a little while, picking up one of the last caches and swam across the gulf. The trip ended up being an unexpected delight as it had discovered some of its distant kin and ate them.


    Like many of the humans it imitated frequently, it hadn''t given much thought to mortality until it faced the realization of death''s existence within itself. For a small time, it railed against such a thing. Then it denied that death could be. It just needed to eat more, eat more powerful things. Its leisurely wanderings became focused expeditions until it stumbled onto a place where something much more powerful than itself resided.


    It took all the cunning it possessed with some guidance from the controlling thing to gather a group of heavy soul humans to help it in its goal to eat the more powerful thing. Money, affection, promises of power, it used everything in its mental and emotional arsenal to convince a large group of ''bad'' men to follow it to a secret temple where a mad god resided.


    The mad god was powerful but not overly bright. It was ruled by the chaos that had made it. The creature that stalked the mad god had picked up some of the better parts of human cunning, will and desire but unlike the fragile beings that fell like wheat to the mad god, the ones that murdered their way past the powerful entity''s cultists, the creature was nearly immune to corrupting influence.


    With the heavy soul people as distractions, it devised traps and employed weapons that would harm the thing without destroying the temple which the controlling thing did not want to happen. It was a battle that lasted for days. A cut off piece here, a blasted off piece there and the puddles of power laced ichor kept the creature regenerating as it slowly tried to wear the mad god down. Occasionally it would even eat one of the people once they had been corrupted enough.


    Somewhere along the way, the creature had taken enough of the mad god in that it saw the creature as its spawn. It stopped fighting and allowed the creature to finish consuming it. That was fortunate. Even with all that the creature had employed, it wouldn''t have been able to win.


    With matronly instinct, it knew that its own spawn didn''t have the ability to withstand such a strong corrosion and sectioned off a part of itself to safely seep what the spawn wanted from the creature. As it relished its victory, the creature noticed that its lifespan had increased but only by a small amount. It was then that it was forced to accept that there was no substitute for the milk of its ''mother'' that had truly sustained its existence all along. The controlling thing explained that it would lose more time trying to find other mad gods or a way to get more ''mother''s milk'' than it would gain. The creature believed that and cried for the first time in its existence.

 147 Crawling Chaos 45

    The sad creature spent some time wallowing in self pity within the temple before its other directives overpowered that sadness. For what time it had left, the sustenance it and the spawn needed were completely covered by the rich food that the mad god had been but it felt a heaviness it had never felt before. The problem was, its heaviness was too strong. Even as short a period of time that its squirt victims would be exposed to the heaviness, it would hurt the light souls within.


    In some dim recess where the controlling thing was, it had grown a sense of enjoyment for the ''good deed'' that dropping light souls to the dark-safe place gave it. With the consumption of the mad god, it felt like it had grown something akin to a soul and would like to believe that it too could go to the dark-safe place when it died. The creature somewhat felt like it was possible as long as it was ''good''.


    Inspired by that idea of ''goodness'', it left the temple and traveled for a small time to find a village that had the greatest concentration of light souls and in the dark of night, flooded a ring of heavy squirts around the whole place. Doing something that the humans called prayer, it asked the dark-safe place if it was pleased to have the village and within minutes, the whole village had sunk there. All that remained was a ring of withered and twisted vegetation.


    What remained of the heavy, it saved for itself. It packed that tar-like substance against the like-a-soul it had. It even took all the heavy its spawn had slowly taken in over time. The creature figured, after all it had given, the spawn could earn its own heavy to get to the dark-safe place.


    With its good deed accomplished and feeling fairly sure it had rightfully earned its paradise after death, the creature returned to the nearest large village to the temple. Along with the flesh of the mad god, it had also inherited its duty to guard the temple but the creature also longed for companionship in its final time. For fear of the complications it might bring, the creature would play a passer-through. It would stay as one person for a few days before leaving, checking on the temple hidden in dense rain forest several miles away and then return as another person.


    It was soothing to see the lives of the fragile humans scurrying around, focused on all the wrong and unimportant things, endearing and invoking pity because of that. There were the important things too, like family. There was a sense of melancholy within the creature that it did not have a mate nor would it be around to raise its spawn, to teach it the important things the creature had learned. It was struck with the idea that it could not only sample what such a life could be like but perhaps secure some additional safety for its spawn.


    Once ''she'' was ready to return to the village, the controlling thing stumped her with finding a good name for herself. She spent a whole two days before she settled on Zoe. Next the controlling thing had her come up with a plausible personal story and background that would stand up to long term scrutiny. That was harder and required some work from her newly minted ''human'' servants.


    A little over two weeks later, Zoe Rossi from Argentinia, came rolling into the large jungle border village she had secretly been to many times before. On her journey, she had met the pleasant but distant Mr. Santos and his greatly more charming if slightly less handsome companion, Detective Jones. In a disquieting coincidence, they had been hired by a Mr. Rothschild of New Yorkshire to find the location of a hidden temple.


    Zoe thought to herself, "Did one of the bad men make it back to civilization?"


    The transformed temple cultists with her wanted to find some place to quietly end Mr. Santos and Detective Jones'' life but she had a much more enjoyable idea. It was one far more kind and suited her needs well. With a small tweak of her own story, she too could be looking for a fabled hidden temple and one of the men present would serve as the surrogate protector of her spawn.


    From the offset, it looked like Santos would be her target due to his acceptance and encouragement of her presence while Neil seemed far more reticent to include a young woman on ''dangerous'' hikes through the jungle. That swiftly changed once she ''helped'' provide some critical clues that might turn their potentially fruitless snipe hunt into a search with direction. She hinted at possibly knowing more but unwilling to provide unless included.


    From there, it was easy enough to ingratiate herself and make friendly overtures. Time wasn''t a commodity that she had much of but she was willing to let situations play out as naturally as possible. The controlling thing wanted her to remain polite but keep things platonic. She seemed to obey but for the first time, secretly worked to defy.


    After a short time, it became obvious that Santos might visually respond to her charm and was friendly, he wasn''t going to allow himself any further indulgence beyond that, clearly drawing a line. Neil, on the other hand, was warming up to her quite quickly after the initial rough patch. For some reason, Santos seemed uneasy about Neil''s extra touch of friendliness but didn''t interfere.


    Unwilling to be too drastic about it, due to the controlling thing constantly pressuring her to remain cordial with Santos, Zoe used her knowledge of the area and the help of her companions to stage a little stranded and lost scenario. The closer she got to Neil, the more interfering Santos became and the stronger the controlling thing urged her to back down and keep the situation with the detective from becoming romantic.


    Less than a week into their contrived alone time, the right opportunity presented itself and Zoe sealed the deal. After that, the controlling thing stopped screaming at her and changed to a more subtle approach, appealing to how short of a time she had left and how that would affect those left behind. It was a revelation to Zoe that the controlling thing didn''t understand everything about her or why she did some of the things she chose to do.


    Early on, she started subtly changing her body by small degrees. It was important that, as best she could, make her spawn seem like his as well. Two months and some more frustrating but bait laden treks through the jungle later, Zoe revealed her status to Neil. There was a lot of complicated emotions flying around but Neil wasn''t a dumb person and he had been rather ''close'' with Zoe for some time.


    Perhaps it had been their many discussions about the preciousness of time and the uncertainty of life but Neil almost seemed relieved. He now had a reason to keep the woman he had began to care a great deal for away from the dangerous jungle. Santos looked more than a little disturbed but he tried his best to look happy for Neil''s sake.


    As for what followed, it wasn''t as much fun after the brief local wedding and weeks long separations but she made do with the happiness she could have. Towards the end, she did start to think about how Neil would be after she was gone. With the discovery of guilt, she tried to ''make it right'' by trying to imprint Neil onto her spawn. The response was unexpected.


    The consciousness and will of her spawn stirred at the intrusion. It rejected her soft attempt. She was afraid of trying harder, possibly causing harm. The closer she came to the end, the greedier she became for some kind of fulfillment, something to feel better about herself and not be a creature who simply used a nice man to protect her spawn. The consciousness inside the gem ''egg'' couldn''t respond but the ''egg'' itself could.


    One early morning, after a passionate reunion between the couple, the key shown within the gem unbeknownst to Zoe. Within her barren, mere decoration of a womb, a life impossibly took hold. Quick to notice the change within her, Zoe redirected resources in herself to support the weak, flickering life struggling to survive the hostile environment inside of her. She wasn''t sure how it happened but she could guess by the slight weakening of it''s shell and the vague sense of temporary exhaustion coming from the gem ''egg'' that it had given a small portion of itself to grant her desire.


    It was only a small opening of possibility that the key had made but true to its directive, that was all that was needed. The nurturing and support of that new life was entirely on Zoe and she had enough resources to spare to support her own and her two spawns'' existence. Drifting in the mysterious way they did, the new life acquired a soul and that''s where the real struggle began.


    No matter how much she looked like one, Zoe was a creature made of the chaotic stuff of the place beyond structured existence. No matter how good she was at containing her distorting and corrupting influence from spilling out into the world, she had less ability to do so inside of herself. Once again, her first spawn responded to her need. Since it was far more resilient and resistant to Zoe''s alien nature, it used itself as a shield and filter for the life that grew inside. This time it wasn''t just the ''egg'', it was also the consciousness inside of it semi-consciously choosing to do so.


    Zoe had witness many times, the ability of humans to selflessly help one another. She had often wondered if any of her kind had such capabilities outside of herself. She still had no satisfying conclusion to that but it seemed that her altruism was hereditary for she witnessed one of her own spawn not only sharing resources instead of trying to attack and devour a competitor but actively giving aid to its sibling.


    With the last month or so of life remaining, Zoe nurtured the life within her and encouraged it to grow as close to self sustaining levels as she safely could while its ''sibling'' suppressed chaotic mutation. It would be completely human in expression but its heritage couldn''t be completely denied. Channeling all of that into advantageous routes was a burden both Zoe and the ''egg'' shared together. Towards the last two weeks of her life, Zoe finally realized that the thing that she had taken for her spawn was more intelligent parasite than child but by then, she didn''t care.


    She still saw the gem egg as her spawn even as her instincts caught wise to the deception. Its care and protectiveness of her real spawn had erased any misgivings or grudge she may have held against it. Without its help she wouldn''t have known real motherhood in her life, though she may have died believing she did. Not only that but without its continued help, her child would have had to live as a pariah, a monster, as she had.


    For the first time, the consciousness inside the gem egg reached out to her. "I''ve done all I can from this side. Any more forced growth could damage lifespan. You need to come clean to Neil. And you need to either induce labor before you die, relying on a hospital to do the rest, or you need to make your way to the temple. If you use the last day or two of your lifeforce to focus on your womb, I should be able to keep it viable long enough for your baby to develop. It''s a close call but the second option is more reliable than the first."


    Zoe said, "I don''t know. Can Neil accept the truth about me?"


    Orison responded, "It doesn''t have to be the whole truth. Share the truth of your feelings and your status as an otherworldly guardian of the temple. I... think some secrets are probably better left kept, for his sake. Just don''t lie."


    Zoe felt conflicted but said, "I can do that."


    "What''s the calendar date?" Orison asked, unsure of the passage of time and other details obscured from him in his state.


    She shared and he said, "If we can get to the temple in four days and you can get Neil there within the same amount of time, that will give you another day or so with him before you need to do what you can for your child. I''ll help all I can but an important event is approaching for me and I can''t miss it."


    It was a mad dash and the temple cultists'' interactions with Neil and Santos weren''t without issue but all who needed to be, were at the temple. Half of the day Zoe had left with Neil was an emotional outpouring that Orison closed his spiritual feelers off for. The other half was a sleepless rest with an emotionally devastated Neil clinging to Zoe like he was afraid she would drift away.


    When it was time, ever concerned with aesthetics, Zoe led them to the innermost chamber and concentrated the remaining life she had left, transforming into a sapphire colored crystalline sphere. Over the next two days, unable to communicate with anyone else, Zoe''s slowly fading consciousness had deep and heart rending existential conversations with Orison that he couldn''t always completely answer but, just as it had been for Neil, he never lied.


    "How was I born? Why was I born?" one of her most poignant set of questions.


    He said, "To a smaller degree, you came forth from what I left behind when I was sealed into my conduit. To a greater degree you are a creation of ritual and living stuff from beyond structured reality, a child of the eternal Outside, where all things originate and will probably return.


    "Why you were born is a question I can''t answer but I can say, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you created a reason for existing beyond the bounds of that why. You started off a simple thing with a simple purpose and grew past it, became a person fully fledged, as real and fully meaningful as an intelligent life can be. The proof lays beside me. He''s got a legitimate soul and all. That''s not something just a little magic and flesh can make happen."


    Towards the very end, Zoe''s consciousness became somewhat child-like and confused but it was painfully clear about one thing. "I don''t want to die."


    Orison struggled with his own complex feelings about that issue but kept that out of his spiritual voice as he said, "In a very real way, you won''t. A part of you will grow up and live all over again. There''s a good chance that they will have others that will grow up and live past them. Only the you that you know now, in this moment will move on but your life will continue through your legacy."


    He told stories, sang her lullabies and offered what solace he could as she finally slipped away a little sad, a little scared and a little curious what happened afterward. When Orison''s time for departure drew near, he stopped supporting the jewel-like womb and let it fall away. What was revealed to Neil and Santos was a small and premature but relatively healthy baby boy with a sapphire gem laying on its chest.


    Neil, momentarily paralyzed in grief, was a few steps slower than Santos. The bruja secured the last small bit of remaining umbilical cord to give the boy a proper belly button and used the circle he had laid much earlier to provide a touch of healing to finish everything off properly. Once done, he took a clean towel from his pack and handed the baby to Neil.


    The man was interrupted halfway through asking Neil what the boy''s name would be by the sound of rushing cultists, freed and frenzied from the passing of their living deity. With something else to focus on, Neil packed away his feelings and focused on what he could do to keep his child and himself alive. Luckily for all of them, Santos had the answer.


    "I''ll use my circle to hold them off. Take that key gem and fit it into the space on the wall relief over there... The hole in the star, yeah, the one with the rays shooting down all over everything. Pendejo!'' Santos said as he poured his precious ''ache'' into the warding of his circle.


    As Neil fumbled around one-handed while cradling the baby in an arm, Orison fumbled around inside whatever state he was in, trying to find the phylactery. His key had eaten it. Fortunately, that translated into the key itself being able to unlock the portal. With one last push of magic force, Santos dropped his connection to the circle and ran into the shimmering curtain while giving Neil a shove to his back and snatching the floating gem key on their way through.


    They stood within a completely dark place with stale, dry air around them. Unbeknownst to them, a rare celestial event was happening outside of the place they were buried in. It wouldn''t have been something they would care about if they had known. What did matter was that the celestial event was the trigger for what happened in the temple nestled deep under the desert sand.

 148 Crawling Chaos 46

    Neil said, "I know you have a flashlight, Santos."


    The bruja said, "And I''m not going to use it. Here in a hot second you''ll be able to see just fine... Believe me, you do not want to see what''s in this room when the lights are on with no magic show."


    On the contrary, Santos and the gem key in his hand were finding plenty of things they wanted to ''look'' at. Orison felt like an egg yolk in a mixing bowl as the bruja swung the key trying to divine where goodies were on dead gifted and climber alike that had died here. Trapped in whatever strange state he was in, Orison mentally sighed as Santos picked up a pile of stuff and the key only absorbed a few things.


    The young mage directed the key to take some things for him too and managed to stick a few things to itself like a magnet, not giving them up to Santos. After having tried to pry them off a couple of times, the bruja got the hint that the key didn''t just find a better way to help him grave rob but wanted to ''have stuff too''. With little time before the ''magic show'' and very little surface area to stick things to itself so Santos wouldn''t take them, the key hadn''t managed to save Orison much but they were guaranteed to be useful.


    As Santos'' hand passed through an object he was reaching for, the room suddenly felt much larger. In a familiar sense of ''fairy-gift'', dream-like quality that gradually became stronger and more real feeling, they found themselves in a starry skied coliseum. It was a space much like the ones created with the ''wish'' structure on Orison''s original miasma. The largest difference being, no one had ever collected it and it had fed itself until it could no longer convert other essence into itself.


    While Orison indulged in some nostalgia, Santos already started muttering. "That is not dead which can eternal-"


    Distracted by a disturbance between a set of pillars, Orison stopped paying attention to Santos'' words. A swirling portal came to life, occasionally throwing off a little tendril of plasma that arced to and drifted across a pillar.


    Santos said, "We don''t have time to waste, Neil. That''s your ride back home... Get a black nanny goat to milk for that boy or you won''t have a peaceful night for a long time, vato."


    The detective nodded absentmindedly before walking through the portal, looking at his child with a lost expression.


    The bruja looked at the sapphire with a key in it and said, "Last stretch, chulo. The crazy ain''t over yet but the finish line''s in sight. Just be who you find yourself being and you''ll know when you make it to where you''re supposed to go. After that, I guess you ''unfold'' back into your true self? Zeke wasn''t that clear."


    Between two other pillars, a golden colored portal opened. Instead of arcs of plasma, it was licks of coronal solar flairs that caressed the pillars. With a small panic, Orison realized he''d been sat down on the floor. The further Santos got from him, the less details of the environment the young mage could sense from his environment, trapped in the key as he was.


    In the state he found himself in, Orison was little more than an abandoned conduit with a consciousness. The alien energy that made up the coliseum reacted in a predictable manner, toothlessly gumming on the essence of the key, trying to absorb it into its own. The key reacted.


    The key released the slightest wisp of its own essence, tricking the alien energy around it into taking it in with the mindless protean assumption that it had succeeded in claiming some of the key''s essence. This, in turn, whipped the alien energy into a frenzy of meaningless gumming as the celestial event ended. Unwilling to give up its ''prize'', the alien energy dragged the key with it down deep into its sub dimensional resting place.


    Over the hundreds, possibly thousands of years since its inception, the coliseum ''miasma'' had potentially reached dizzying heights of energy mass. It was theoretically possibly that it had stolen core essence from the world will itself. Conversely, it had also been potentially used quite a bit of times to provide a way to and from the reality it had parasitized, consuming who knows how much of its acquisition.


    There wasn''t much for Orison to do in his current state but think. His biggest curiosity over what this was all about was answered fairly early in. All the chaotically charged essence that reality fundamentally rejected was being injected into the alien essence around the key and once it had burned out its conversion potential completely, the key would slurp the pacified and greater reality accepted essence back in.


    Considering how much chaotically charged essence the key had stored in itself and Orison, it was going to take some time to finish. Every last bit the conduit and its owner had would be transformed into something baptisms and the crossing into mid dimensions wouldn''t strip away. And considering what little Orison knew about the mid dimensions, the crossover was ruthless.


    From his viewing of Keita riding into the mid dimensions as the Danann Key, he had a rough idea of what happened. Loose and nonsensical things would be stripped away from an existence. The Dannan Key''s nearly godlike ability to control and dictate all that was elven being reduced to a decent ability to interact with and influence elves or their creations was proof of that.


    What was left, would be condensed many fold. On an observable level, a supreme mage capable of casting novice magic all day long might find that casting continuously for a few minutes might leave them feeling in need of a rest or meditation. In theory, a fully conceived universe in the lower dimensions might find itself condensed into little more than a young and vital galaxy within a previously existing mid dimensional reality once it crossed over.


    The most brutal of all its aspects was the raising of the bar on what made a person ''special'' and what it took to utilize whatever supernatural quality that special person had. Many master mages on Amoril had found themselves scrambling to briefly revisit novice spells and learning journeyman spells from scratch. The most powerful of their magic became a fever dream that may never be achieved again within their lifetime.


    Were it not for the rich heritage left behind by the Tribe of Danann that had been there, it could have been the death of magic for generations before someone figured out a way to use it outside of religiously bent gifted. That sounded like a recipe for disaster. As it was, there would be quite a bit of pressure from mundane authority to reach a greater equality with the academies, if not outright enforcing some compliance, kicking them while they were down. Then again, there was the ''magical monk world police''.


    As the timeless moments bled on, Orison once again reached a level of growing panic and edginess. Answering the need, his key put him back to ''sleep''. The young mage''s last thought before darkness was the realization of the ''double sided edge'' of his reinvented conduit.


    It was quick to answer need and indulged strong wants but when a want conflicted with what the key recognized in its protean intuitive way as a need, need came first. Not that it would disregard a direct order from its creator but Orison was in no condition to bark orders at it when he was clueless how this situation would resolve. His only choice was to either hold out til Zeke''s scheme ran its course or find a situation he could understand well enough to reassert control.


    ***


    A teenage boy muttered under his breath, "Not everyone''s mother is a space alien or is rich enough to buy some creepy magic book. I don''t know why the letter addressed to dad said to throw this rock through the standing stones over there but I bet its special."


    The teenager put the sapphire with a key in it, into his pocket. Orison stirred from his ''sleeping'' state. He immediately recognizes the couple in front of a glowing portal that had opened between two standing stones situated within a ring of other paired ones. They were older versions of Mr. Rothschild and Jen. They weren''t the only recognizable sights, either.


    They were at Stone Hinge, at least this world''s version. The unconscious man slung over the handsome youth with features vaguely reminiscent of Orison''s own were Neil and probably his son. The only person he couldn''t immediately place was the teenage boy with a blend of Asian and White features.


    "There''s not enough energy to sustain the portal for long. If you can''t find the keystone mentioned in your father''s letter then you''ll need to forget it. It''s a shame not to return a favor but a favor has to be of use to have value. If we wait much longer, that''s exactly what this chance to escape our dying world will become." Mr. Rothschild said with a stern face.


    The teenage boy continued to pretend looking with his brother for a bit before Mr. Rothschild informed them that time was up. All five of them walked through the portal. Four of them succeeded. The teenage boy was separated from the rest because something repulsed his attempt to enter. Under the sad eyes of his older brother and Jen, the portal closed, trapping the teenager behind by himself.


    Orison thought, "That''s what being a little greedy turd will get you. Note to self: don''t be a greedy turd again in the future and end up having to eat those words... What''s the point. It''ll probably happen anyway... I sympathize, fellow greedy turd."


    He stopped his inner monologue when he realized the teenager was staring at ''him'' strangely.


    The boy said, "Did you just call me a greedy turd?"


    Orison, ecstatic to be able to talk to someone after so long, tried to play it cool. "I called myself one too. Don''t get bent out of shape about it."


    "Can you help me get back to my dad and brother?" the boy asked hopefully.


    The young mage tried to shake his head and realized he didn''t have one. "I don''t think so? I mean, you putting me in your pocket is why you couldn''t go with them in the first place. Wherever they went, I''m apparently not invited."


    The teenager sighed in depression. "It doesn''t matter anyway. Big brother''s half alien and Mr. Rothschild is some kind of wizard or something. Even dad''s got a touch of something cause he hasn''t hardly gotten older at all. My real father''s just some Nipponese man my mom screwed around behind dad''s back with.


    "I''m just a normal nobody. The place where they went is some special place and I was already told that me and Jen would still just be regular people. The only reason I was going was because big brother knocked dad out with some drugs and kidnapped him. Mom was in the nut house for awhile before she... passed away last year... I guess I could try to find my real father. Mom said I would die if I tried but she was craz-"


    Orison interrupted, "That''s all well and good but what is today''s date."


    After he was told the young mage shouted at the spiritually sensitive kid, "Summer solstice of 1977?... Get me to the damn standing stones! I don''t want to get stuck here too!"


    Startled by the force of the mental communication, the teenager took him to the set of standing stones mentioned in Neil''s letter from Zeke. Once they drew close, energy churned inside the key and a portal opened up. It was already starting to get wobbly from whatever celestial alignment that allowed it to work, moving past it''s moment.


    A suction force from the portal drew the keystone towards it but the teenager was holding on to it, refusing to let go. "Can I go too?"


    Orison mentally screamed in frustrated panic as the portal started to break at the edges, "Don''t ask...Do or don''t but either way, let me the f*** go!"


    The boy pushed as hard as he could, only sinking in little by little.


    The young mage entreated his conduit to help. The boy was going to get himself sliced to shreds when the portal closed and that was only a breath away. There was no telling what would happen to Orison and the keystone. It probably wouldn''t be much better because the boy was intent on either making it or taking Orison with him.


    On one hand, the young mage was p*ssed. On the other, he had to admire that the boy had the ''stones'' to blackmail an unknown magical existence. The only problem was, he didn''t know if the keystone could even help with such a situation. If that was the case, the teenager was only dragging him along into a murder-suicide for no good reason.


    The keystone turned from the temperature of the teen''s hand to a tea kettle that had reached boiling in an instant. It and the hitchhiker made it through the portal before it closed but the boy dropped the keystone and clutched his hand to his chest in agony. A second later, water rushed in from all sides.


    No longer in contact with a person, Orison''s ability to sense surroundings dropped to zero again. Nearly a minute later, the keystone bumped into something and then sunk into it. Suddenly, the world turned back on. He could think and feel and almost wished he couldn''t because he was cold, his ankle hurt terribly and he was drowning.


    Forcing himself to calm down, Orison took a second to orient himself and began swimming up, ignoring the excruciating pain from a foot that was all kinds of broken. Whatever situation he had found himself in, he could barely feel his essence pool and he couldn''t bring out the teaser suit. Luckily, he wasn''t that far from the surface.


    After taking in a gulp of air that he was completely convinced was the sweetest one he''d ever taken in his life, the young mage swam for the nearby shoreline. On his way, he saw a familiar letterman jacket. It was still on the teenager who had likely drown due to hissing out nearly all his breath before the water closed in on their portal air pocket. Why it had dumped them out underwater was something that would likely remain a mystery.


    Swimming in one arm carry, it took another minute to reach a place where he could reliably perform CPR in the weak and nearing hypothermia condition he was in. The boy''s will to live was strong and it hadn''t been too long. After the fourth round, the teen spit out water and started coughing. It was just as well because without the teen''s help, getting up the rocky shoreline would have been shy of impossible.


    Once they were at the top, Orison tried to reach for anything that he could within himself only to get a wooden wand and a wooden ring. "All I can access is my practice focus set!? I hate this sh*t. I feel like Harry Potterpants waving this damn thing around... Wait. I get it. These are the only things I have that were made, carved and enchanted all on my own from beginning to end. My connection to them is strong enough to reach through all the cottony interference."


    Drawing on the slow trickle of essence he could reach, Orison dried them off and warmed them up. Before he could turn to trying the more complicated task of healing his foot, two men came barreling down the hill.


    "We''ve got survivors down here." The lead man said.


    Things became complicated after that. They were confused with a large group of suicides who''d jumped from a cliff a little further up. Based on some story, on a certain time and date, the lake they were in connected to a mirror world, fairy kingdom or other such mythical locals.


    Protests to the contrary were pointless despite being mostly dry. Slightly damp clothes and a broken foot were good enough. At minimum, they would have to be placed under psychiatric observation for three days. For cover story, Orison luckily had identification and gave his new teen friend a covert look explaining that he had found ''Leon'' drowned and that made the teens memories a little fuzzy. They still asked the boy a lot of questions but taking from Orison''s queue, he pretended a touch of amnesia, providing some hazy general information.


    Once they were being carted away after having their stuff confiscated, Orison introduced himself. The boy did as well. His name was Rio, pretty close to the name he''d heard in passing once from illusion Neil.


    "What will we do now?" Rio asked.


    Orison shrugged. "We got to play it by ear. According to the little I know, we aren''t actually at where we''re supposed to be going. This is a pit stop. Out of all that fanciful crap we heard... mirror world might actually be the truth. Some legends do have a kernel of that but I don''t know why a group though jumping off a cliff would be the magic password the lake needed.


    Rio said, "If that''s the real you, I''m kind of disappointed. I expected something... more from a thing inside a cool gemstone."


    Orison chuckled. "It''s a loaner. My real car''s still in the shop."


    Rio''s eyes widened. "You possessed a dead guy!?"


    The young mage shuddered. "I guess I did. No one else is home in here..."

 149 Crawling Chaos 47

    Two days later in the recreational room of the facility Orison and Rio were being kept at, the two were having their first meeting after being separated when they arrived.


    "Nice cast. I think its kind of funny they wouldn''t let you keep your wooden ring after you got here," Rio said as he looked at the fat plaster boot the young mage was wearing.


    Orison sighed. "The most secure fact I''ve discovered about this place is that the more you insist you want something, the more adamant they become on denying that thing to you. I had to practically pretend that I hated the idea of coming here before they finally decided to ''make'' me. Contrary d*cks... More importantly, do you have the same problem I''m having in retaining information?"


    The teenager said, "It''s the weirdest thing. I can read whatever I want like it''s no problem but seconds later, I can''t remember a word I read and as far as I can tell, we''re not the only ones. There''s a couple of other people like that too.


    "We all got one thing in common. Everyone that''s like that, drowned on the lake but was revived. Cool thing is, there''s another person who seems to have amnesia too. That means they haven''t been giving me a lot of problems about it. They just think I was under a little too long and have some minor brain damage or something... Did you know it considered bad to try to make someone remember things when they''ve suffered brain damage?"


    Orison said, "Let''s bring the derailed topic back on track... According to my ''actually'' kind of crazy roommate, the reason why so many people played lemur is because of a rare event that last happened over 200 years ago and once before, nearly 600 years ago. Story goes that before it was made illegal, there was a test of courage young men and a couple of women over the centuries would take. When the sun sets on summer solstice, a beam of sunlight will illuminate the diving rock on the cliff side. When that happens, diving successfully is supposed to bring you a lifetime of good fortune.


    "Now, over the years, the sun doesn''t line up quite as neatly but due to an earthquake, the diving rock shifted over a touch and now it gets lit up perfect again... That''s just the setup of this story though. The really crazy part is that in the two legends from so many years ago, another thing happened. The full moon sat between a pair of opposing peaks on the other side, throwing a beam of light over the same diving rock.


    "The story from way back wasn''t as clear about things and sounds more like a children''s story but the one from a couple hundred years ago was quite a bit more clear. That year, there was a squabble between a couple of people up there and several fell at once. All of them drowned but three of them were saved.


    "One spoke of a place where the air was heavy and dark things stalked in the shadows... sound familiar?... Another spoke of a place where the sun was a little brighter and the children of gods and monsters who had mixed their blood with mortals lived beside their human kin in a ''most common'' fashion. The third hung himself with a note begging to be forgiven by god and spared the visions of the place he''d seen... Frankly, that could have been the world we came from too, depending on where he saw but that would be pure speculation. I-"


    Rio threw up his hands and said, "Whoa, Whoa. You mean, we''ll start hallucinating? They''ll never let us out of here!"


    Orison said, "Let me finish... Eventually they were semi catatonic, occasionally muttering about a whole other life they were living. Following that, they went full ''nobody''s home''. Right as it looked like they were about to die, synchronized at that, the moon sets. The moonlight hits the diving rock and they just disappear in motes of moonlight."


    Using snark to hide his fear, Rio said, "So we''re going to hallucinate, turn into vegetables and get vaporized?"


    Orison looked at Rio with dull eyes and said, "You''re talking to a person who''s technically in a rock that possessed a dead person... Think a little more positive and creative... Okay, since your brain just went on strike. We are going to phase into another reality or at least another world.


    "I know that''s outlandish but we''re in the low dimensions. I feel thankful to be able to tell which part of something is its head and which part is its a**. There are times such a basic privilege HAS been denied to me... Lucky kid. It looks like you''re going to accidentally become a climber."


    Half disbelieving and half hopeful, Rio said, "From the stuff I read and Mr. Rothschild told us, you have to be gifted before you have the chance to become a climber."


    Orison shook his head. "That''s not true but even if it was, you''re gifted."


    Seeing the teen''s dubious look, he added, "You couldn''t have spoke with me when I was a rock unless you were spiritually sensitive and I''m pretty sure that makes you gifted. Santos, a person I assume you don''t know, was gifted and still couldn''t hear me... There''s another thing. There''s a good chance your mom wasn''t lying to you. I''m fairly certain that your biological father is from the Abe clan... There was an Abe clan in New Yorkshire, right?"


    Stunned but still following, Rio nodded.


    Orison said, "If they''re what I think they are, it''s an ancient clan of onmyoji... exorcists and ward specialists mainly but also capable of some pretty kick a** familiar assisted sorcery."


    Rio said, "But they tested me. Dad even sat through months of ward making with me and nothing happened."


    Orison nodded. "Neil''s a decent detective and probably found out who your biological father was but he''s a terrible teacher... I''m assuming you were probably fairly young when they did all that and didn''t give you a lot of training before hand. They probably didn''t even account for how important a honed will is to utilizing talent if it exists..."


    Rio neither agreed nor disagreed but silently listened as Orison continued, "This isn''t a dig at you personally but it''s a nearly universal truth that kids have horrible concentration at the best of times, much less when they have to do something boring and repetitive with nothing to show for their effort. As time went by, you were probably discouraged. They were discouraged and even if you would have become capable of doing something, you would have convinced each other that you couldn''t."


    The young mage took his glass of water and spilled a little on the table before setting the cup on it. After moving the cup around a little, he raised it. Into the ring of water, he moved a little magic and the lightest touch of spirit essence.


    Finished with preparation, he muttered, "Water pool, raise and cool... Alright. It''s charged and prepared. All you need to do is lean over and let out a slow breath over it while imagining the little molecules of water evaporating from the ring and taking the heat with it... Give it a shot."


    Rio tried and nothing happened but before the teen could get crestfallen about it, Orison walked him through the imagery in detail and set it up a second time. It went without a hitch and where a ring of water had been, a small circle of frost spread out that quickly evaporated away leaving the table notably cooler in that spot.


    "Yup, you got the talent. You just need to log the practice. If you did it for months with Neil, I''m sure you remember how it''s done." Orison assured with a smile.


    Just to be sure nothing Neil taught had degraded into uselessness with time, the young mage rehashed the basics while reminding Rio to stay calm before an orderly broke them up. He also warned to stick with visuals and meditation for the time being. If Rio was caught drawing sacred geometry all over the place, Orison imagined that things could get a little complicated.


    Right before time was up, Orison dipped his finger in the water glass, swiped a wet circle and whispered, "Whap Rack."


    In a split second, he reproduced a stronger version of what he demonstrated earlier, producing a chilly table top. It was to show what practice was for but it was also to demonstrate the principle of condensing visualization and focus into something practical and not as easy to predict. Once he explained how ''whap rack'' was a phonetic shortening of the embarrassing little rhyme he said earlier, he let Rio''s imagination fill in the rest. What he wouldn''t share was how the sloppy display was ten times more expensive and a third the power of a standard casting of ''degree shift''.


    Only one more day of recreation time discussion was the end of their time as teacher and student because the hallucinations started for Rio. The young mage didn''t have the hallucinations but he did feel his ability to control his borrowed body weaken. While the teen saw visions of a bright world, Orison only felt that his conduit''s connection with this body was diminishing. While Rio had lucid periods, he would only have points where he had the strength to move around normally.


    During a period that felt like it was getting close to the last time Orison would have the ability to move around, he tried to have a last minute discussion with Rio but the boy wasn''t in the recreational room. By the time the teen made an appearance after a long ''bathroom break'', both he and Orison had to be taken back to their rooms. They had fallen and couldn''t get up. After that, it was all down hill. His senses faded drastically by the hour and he felt reeled back in.


    The last coherent memory he had from the borrowed body was being moved to a hospital after a doctor gave a grim observation. "I don''t believe in fairy tales, director. What I do believe is that when nine people who all drowned in the same lake show similar aggressively progressing neurological conditions, a rational person starts looking for potential pathogens or toxins IN that lake! We should feel fortunate that whatever it is, isn''t contagious."


    There was lethargy mixed with the feeling of being stretched and connected to something. There was a sense of a piece of him being sent through that connection but there wasn''t much else thought or felt for a small time.


    Before light and sensation returned to Orison, there was a moment where he heard an older and more tired sounding Zeke say, "How did this run go? Excellent. This is the one we keep. Juice me up one last time and we''ll close the loop. Here, I''ll take those items stuck to you so you can take the letters... Thanks for showing me how to keep being me...


    "And if you can hear me in there, short stack, Gan''s conduit is to me what your conduit is to Keita or whoever she is now. We''ll always be a little connected but they''re not us. If we''re both lucky, I''ll meet you in the mid dimensions some time."


    As the connection to something else grew stronger, he felt an odd sensation of moving backwards but not at the same time. All the while, his conduit was pulling in some strange and unknown essence. It took him a moment to place it but he realized it was the astral realm stuff that he had interacted with before. The part of himself that was the miasma he''d originally used to start his insane journey, recognized the astral stuff as ''home''.


    Flashes of an intelligent but alien being getting a part of itself sliced off, crying out in shock and the newfound sensation of existential pain it had fled to the beyond to escape flickered through Orison''s consciousness. He understood that the ''astral realm'' that he had seen twice before was nothing more than the remains of that entity''s egg/larval sack/cocoon. All of the portals within it were the places that it had personally made contact with and the weird saw tooth tornado ball was a ''pet'' it had found wandering close to it''s ''home'' in the maelstrom.


    Whatever his conduit had done, the result was an unraveling of that ''astral space''. The tornado ball was free to roam the near infinite for the no time it would take to rejoin the maelstrom and cease to be. Once too much had unraveled and staying became too dangerous, the keystone let the connection finish pulling them elsewhere as something within his conduit cracked and broke.


    Whatever that broken part was, it hadn''t belonged to the keystone to begin with but it had allowed for things that shouldn''t have been possible. Whatever that thing was, it just fell away like the rocket on a spaceship once it was used up. Left with no other choice, Orison chalked it up to the infinite possibilities of lower dimensional nonsense and left it at that. He didn''t have time to give it more thought anyway as images and memories of another began to invade his consciousness.


    It was a light assault. The memories were from a hollow and contrived existence designed to worm its way into the reality he was going. It was a reflection of the life of the suicide guy from the freaky lake. Orison''s merge with the hollow existence started when it was young, fished from a destroyed building with no one knowing where ''the boy'' had come from.


    His slow becoming of ''the boy'' had fulfilled whatever mysterious prerequisites Orison''s third step baptism required as well. Baptism, boundary crossing and becoming were all happening in a stretched fast-forward of the ''the boy''s life. Such a thing was overwhelming and only his connection that kept reeling him in, held the young mage together. Clinging to that lifeline, Orison''s core self tore across the boundary divide like a slow motion dirty comet, leaving deep streaks of impurities and structure poison in its wake.


    They weren''t the only things shed. The relevant and meaningful surviving parts of Al and Orison''s life before and after joining became bright, polished gems within his spiritual consciousness as repetitive or meaningless periods faded to obscurity. False memories from trainers and the memories of others slowly crumbled and fell away, leaving only useful kernels of knowledge and wisdom. Even the useless weight of years spent trapped or as a spiritual hitchhiker became little more than abridged footnotes.


    Caught up in all that was happening, Orison suddenly felt like he was losing things that weren''t relevant in the broad scheme but were important to him on a personal level. The pure and euphoric feeling of ''returning to innocence'' became a battle to remain himself. Deep grudges and emotional pain that was being washed away became precious dark treasures he desperately clung to after having found that many were gone or severely faded. Such things may not be pleasant but they helped to shape the toughness and resilience he possessed.


    On a deeper level, he knew that with time he could let them go but the pain and personal tragedies of the hollow life he was about to claim were far too superficial to replace the hard lessons won. Substantial wisdom didn''t require it, intellect only suffered from the burden of too much emotion but Orison wanted the hardened and sharper edge that a touch of wretchedness gave. He didn''t desire to be a demon but neither was angelic virtue something he sought.


    Clutching onto the rest of what his spiritual ''rebirth'' was attempting to ''clean'' him of, the young mage tuned in to the life of the person he was to become and how that would affect him. The story was bland but that wasn''t a bad thing. A relatively nondescript personality would make transformation into a whole new person seem like a natural turn of events.


    The kid in question, was rescued from a collapsed building during a fight between a ''superhero'' and a trumped up ''villain'', lost in the stack of much more prevalent events taking place around the same time. With no family, he became a ward of the state but he had lived in a couple of nice foster homes over the years. Due to a slight lisp, when the child gave the only thing he could remember, his name, to rescuers, they had misinterpreted it as Austin Ketchup. It was the most upsetting thing about his new life and proof that his rescue workers had been too tired to really care much about accuracy or the future feelings of a survivor when more probably needed saving.


    The way the kid stayed just a hair below average in every way should have been suspicious to someone but the very nature of the kid made him easy to overlook. It wasn''t til Austin''s early teens that things took a turn for the worse. He stood out in bad ways and became a bully magnate when he started having nightmares about a thing he called Gnarly or the ''blue eyed boogeyman''. Orison shuddered on that reveal and hoped that it wasn''t some kind of omen and just a bleed over from the situation he barely escaped.


    The situation stabilized into a running commentary on the failures of support systems for foster children and public education that weren''t really possible to fix. Eventually, Austin ran away after the third and final test administered to screen for ''specials'' showed that he was just a normal human. He struggled unsuccessfully to support himself for a few weeks and then gave in to anxiety, depression and a total collapse of self worth. At a nearby lake, he jumped off of a particularly high point of a cliff and drowned.

 150 Country of Champions 1

    A mature woman''s voice said, "Vitals are good. With the increase of brain activity, our neurologist predicts he should wake up in a day or two."


    A somewhat gravely toned man''s voice said, "What''s the bars look like?... I know you''re not supposed to release that kind of information on a minor until a guardian''s given permission but it''s a sh*t show, Karen. I can''t spin a tale around a kid getting powers after trying to kill himself.


    "If I have the bars, I can make something believable no matter what kind of mental state he''s in after this. A picnicking family saw the light show and the dad''s the one who gave chest compression. They''ve been spreading the story around for the last day. I got to get ahead of this before we have a suicide pandemic of idiots trying to force some kind of mythical awakening."


    Karen was silent for a moment before there was a rapid series of finger taps against a hard, plastic sounding surface. "None of this is official yet. S-bars show possible C-class mystic potential and E-class magic augmentation. The aural bloom scan almost looks like an impressionist picture of the sea. No signs of external control or spiritual damage. And the haziness around the head points, heart and... sacral point isn''t anything you wouldn''t expect to see in a teenage boy. I expected to see a darker heart point considering the situation but anyone can have a moment of weakness or stupidity, I guess.


    "The M-bars are a mess but that''s nothing new. Preliminary scans show a minimum D-class genetic deviation, E-class esper sensitivity... and F-class pheromone production but that''s-"


    "A good spin point. Not very many boys would be willing to admit running off a cliff to escape a molester but many would. It also lets us set the awakening point BEFORE the jump," the man said, as if everything was satisfactorily solved.


    Karen angrily said, "No. F-class is little more than a generically nice smell. You try to sell that and it feeds the ''they made me do it'' defense against everyone else with the same deviation. It''s sick and it''s wrong."


    Mark sighed. "Everyone ALSO knows that a person''s traits can be exponentially amplified for a short time after the awakening point. It doesn''t feed any ''assailant is the real victim'' narrative, Karen."


    "Oh, so an F-class awakening being strong enough to stir a person to attack a ''scratch and sniff'' when they first awaken doesn''t feed the f***ing narrative, Mark!?" Karen practically screeched.


    The man kept his frustration in check but it could be heard in his voice. "Approve this. I can put some polish on it to keep it from drifting that direction... I promise you."


    As a person who actually cared for Orison''s well being, Karen said, "Is that the truth? Is that what really happened, Austin?"


    The young mage said, "Orison, please. My name''s Orison Cantrip and always has been. I''ve tried telling people that a couple of times and no one wanted to hear me. I could have family out there that actually knows me and couldn''t find me because I had a lisp when I was little... To answer your question, it''s the truth I want to tell. No, it''s not the truth but the truth is sad, embarrassing and will haunt my steps for the rest of my life when all I really want to do is move on from it and enjoy this new lease on life I HAVE."


    Mark looked piercingly at Orison and said, "I''ll run with this. I''ll even slap your corrected name on there after a little verification but if you burn me on this, I''ll bury you. Are you CERTAIN this is the truth you can sell and there won''t be any surprises to kill it? Last chance, because backlash won''t be landing on me if this turns rotten."


    The young mage said, "It''s air tight, removes any need to fight witness testimony and will make the community at large more agreeable to whistle blowing. I like it. You like it and Karen can accept it after she makes sure I''m not a bipolar on a temporary up spike."


    She said, "That''s not really wha-"


    Mark cut her off. "You heard him... Add a full telepathy and empathy battery to his tests before you clear him. I''m going to get a mind sweep for manipulation done before I leave. Prepare to get rolled up, just in case."


    The man quickly exited and left he staring at the hospital room door in mild panic before looking at Orison with uncertainty.


    He shrugged. "Do what you need to do but I have a quick question before you go running to make sure I haven''t licked your brain. What''s S-bars and M-bars?"


    Looking a touch more relaxed, she said, "The Spectral Bar Series and Mutation Bar Series are two sets of tests that measure energy signatures and genetic expressions."


    She went on to explain quite a bit. Most of it was dry but there were a few pieces of useful information mixed in. She was an esper mutant herself, D-class extra sensory. It was perfect for a doctor that specialized in diagnostic testing for not only supernatural traits but hard to determine medical problems. Once Orison had been scanned clear of passive manipulation expressions, Karen was called away more than once to utilize her prized ability.


    Delaying the third interruption, Karen said, "Mark added a couple of extra batteries and I''m obligated to see them through... You''re going to be here for at least two more days and after that, a suitable dorm will be assigned to you where you''ll have to complete some safety boards and testing for educational purposes."


    "Who exactly is Mark, a government PR guy?" Orison asked.


    She said, "He''s this hospital''s resident Bureau of Supernatural \u0026 Mutant Affairs representative. He also serves as a community liaison. Public relations is part of his job but so is public safety when it involves the differently advantaged.


    "I''d love to stay and answer more of your doubtlessly endless questions. It''s good that you know as much as you can cram in... Sadly, the reward for competence is more work. I''ll get a little more time penciled in with Genevieve. She can answer more of your questions after she''s done with the interview portion of your psych evaluation.


    "It''ll be a little intimidating and stressful but don''t take it personally. Some of these tests are uncomfortable but none of them are dangerous. You''ll be fine and you''ll be kept so busy this time will fly by and become a distant memory in no time."


    She wasn''t wrong but she also downplayed. Being cut, burned and flash frozen with micro-precision might not have hurt per say but some of the places that those tests had to be done on made him want to cry for a lot of reasons. To say that they had measuring the supernatural down to a science wouldn''t be accurate but they most definitely had a decent standardization that made it hard to fudge. The most important parts he needed to hide, hid themselves or he would have been in some trouble.


    Over his time there, he also did a little self examination. His space and soul ring were so sub-dimensional that it took him time to trace his own connections. The soul shell that served when this form was little more that a hollow proxy became the point of expression for his actual soul. It made him wonder how the bars would look if they could measure the raw. He wasn''t nearly crazy enough to find out.


    There wasn''t much deep self evaluation he could do at the hospital but he did carefully look into his space. His soul ring was about three times larger and more sturdy while the white hole in the middle widened from pin hole to fresh crayon tip. It was hard to measure but he could feel that the essence radiation it threw reached a much larger area.


    The strangest change was his plane. If all the ''astral plane'' like obscuring mist that protected the more fragile parts from his casual sight was taken into consideration, it was quite big but only a small fraction of it was revealed. There wasn''t a large variety in his plants but they were all just as real feeling as himself and quite well aged. That was excellent news when it came to the handful of mature ginseng, lotus and a large patch of vividly blue agave that stretched into the astral mist furthest away from the vital water pool.


    Hidden deep within obfuscation was the eternium ''sun'' of the plane and his conduit which he could feel had returned to a fragile state and required time to recover. The space itself wasn''t capable of being eyeball calculated anymore and the churning borders where more violent than ever. It was no longer that safe for items of low dimensional origin in his space, regardless of where they were kept.


    There were also very few free floating motes of eternium. Once they past a certain point of the radiation field of his white hole and spun out beyond the pull of his plane, they drifted and dimmed into the vacuum of the space itself. It suggested that something fundamental and beyond his understanding happened to all the inert essence.


    After acknowledging the return of living elemental laws, Orison turned to his stash of goodies. There was a ruby ring and that was it. He panicked momentarily before he realized that his remaining items were all packed inside of it. It still wasn''t that impressive. Aside from what was originally in it, there were some mundane boundary items and a few new things that he''d explore more in depth once he had some privacy. He feared that was a long way away.


    Placing himself into meditative trance, he tried to feel out what the next climbing step required and didn''t get much of an idea beyond taking a different but important step, becoming a tier four. It wasn''t that precise but it was a nebulous kind of idea. He felt like it wouldn''t take much to reach for the next rung of power but it also equally felt like a bad move at that time.


    As an image, his tower was solid, sturdy and near flawless but it lacked the wide foundation a much larger structure would need to continue being stable and durable later. What he had was a masterpiece of spiritual structure but it was only a short thing. If he rushed the process of building to new heights he''d ruin what made what he had so good to begin with.


    It was obvious that more knowledge, wisdom and personal life experience would make for a transition with better potential. Assuming, of course, it was balanced with an eye for time taken because emotional and spiritual baggage could accumulate quickly and stifle potential in other ways. Fortunately, he wasn''t completely clueless to what he needed beyond a little full living and this world most definitely had more of it if the translations of the magi''s collection proved insufficient.


    Done with his self inspection, the young mage turned to getting an idea of the new reality laws he''d have to adjust to for his abilities to work and immediately felt a hint of instinctual threat. There was far too much around the clock observation going on to do anything meaningful. And if there had ever been a time to be as low key as possible, his current situation was one of those times. There was literally no safety net if he messed up. That didn''t mean it would always be so.


    The S\u0026M Bureau had a political nemesis call the League of Extraordinaries. Powerful supernaturals and those with abilities that were in danger of exploitation were protected by the League but he had no doubts that those the Bureau found first would never get the chance to seek that protection. Orison had his doubts about the League''s altruism as well but if it boiled down to serving or being exploited by a cabal of potentially sympathetic authority figures or subordinated by a mildly antagonistic government agency, the choice was clear.


    There were a few facts about his current reality that had the young mage worried as well. The existence of extra-dimensional planes was an open secret and that meant mid-dimensional entities and organizations were almost guaranteed to be somewhere in the world. There was also a predatory undertone to the will of this world. It passively fed off its inhabitants.


    Every ''mystic'' type on the planet was an emitter. That meant they produced the essence they used or it was provided by a patron from elsewhere. The world gave not one bit and even siphoned from models in a way that mimicked conditions on the world he''d previously been on. The only upside was that inert spirit essence wouldn''t be shoved down his metaphorical throat with every use of his space.


    He had a sneaking suspicion that something was keeping this reality from ascending to the mid dimensions. It was far more powerful than Amoril was and far more stable as well. Regardless, it had to be close to the dividing line because there was a subtle pressure exuded by the place that gave Orison the feeling that less structurally stable entities would find themselves seriously suppressed if not partially invalidated.


    All of his pondering and speculating came to a crashing halt on the second full day at the hospital. Genevieve was no joke. Her expertise and subtle talents pushed Orison far beyond what his community college level psychology education could cope with. It took every bit of self restraint he had not to dial down his emotional sensitivity or retreat too far into his meditative training. That meant dealing with one continuous rolling damage control on reveals.


    It didn''t feel good to be read like a book while he tried to pen scribbles in an attempt to hide things. Orchestrating angry outbursts while reeling in genuine ones left him feeling mentally drained but she didn''t stop. Two hours of sharp tongued nastiness lead to another hour of neutral interrogation after a ten minute break. While she took a lunch, he took a written battery. He received his while she read that battery and visually analyzed him to the point he didn''t want to eat but made himself do it anyway.


    At the end of her ''interview'' that Orison had many more colorful names for, She said, "Would it have been so bad to show me the real you?"


    He responded simply, "We''re not friends."


    Almost whimsically she said, "We could be. There''s no rule saying we couldn''t after my official job is done."


    "No, but there are social norms and conflicts of interest that would make such a thing extremely impractical," Orison said bluntly.


    Genevieve adopted a hurt expression and said, "Since when did friendship require being practical?"


    He said nothing.


    After an uncomfortable silence, she became neutral faced again and said, "I''m recommending a three month observation period before you''re released. You exhibit strong indicators of being self harming and unstable. Borderline schizophrenia aside, I also believe you might suffer from a subconscious case of gender dysphoria and I''ll have you enrolled in a class on how to explore those potential feelings. Is there anything you''d like to add?"


    He nodded. "The last part was an oversell."


    She smiled. That smile looked and felt genuine.


    "Really? It''s the only part I think is true," she said, appearing as if she was holding back her amusement.


    He thought, "Does this world have ''Silencing of the Lambs''? Buffalo Bill, I am not, H*nnibal!"


    Sighing, he added, "I''m comfortable with my gender identity. I actively pity and even fear certain physiological and social obstacles that women face. Assuming it''s further down the road, the idea of becoming a father of a child I''d need to help raise isn''t unpleasant. If I was the one responsible for giving birth, I don''t think I''d feel the same way.


    "As far as other pieces of personal information you might be able to pry out of me using false pretenses, the list isn''t long. I think I''m slightly more petty than the average person but I have a sense of proportion when indulging in that. I enjoy the feeling of being nude when I have privacy or in an environment where such a thing can be done comfortably and safely.


    "Although, today I''ve discovered that having someone stare at me while I eat if they''re not eating DOES make me uncomfortable. It probably would even if it was a safe and comfortable environment. Outside of that, I''m done sharing today."


    Orison closed his eyes and started meditating. She tried to pull him back in but he had resolved to shut her out completely. He didn''t even care that he wasted his time to ask her questions because he could tell she wasn''t done poking at him and never would be. He had made the mistake of being ''interesting''.


    She showed him that he wasn''t the only one capable of being petty by having him placed in a ''safe'' room overnight. She also gained approval for the telepathic esper that was sent to ask question about his mystic source to question his sudden extreme antisocial behavior at the end of their session. He spent the night feeling like he was waiting to face the final boss of a game that had been too hard to be fun.

 151 Country of Champions 2

    Spending the night in a pull-up for adults was insulting but Orison didn''t understand the rules and thought that this was quite possibly still part of the testing. He thought it wasn''t all bad when he realized he could watch TV through the large window in his door but once it showed inappropriate content and he realized it was yet another way to pry into his mind, he lost interest. When the esper finally arrived, he found he was almost as relieved as he was dreading.


    "As per federal law, I am a C-class telepathic esper. My mode of reading is through touch and my range is active thoughts only. Please do not use any kind of imagery training to block reading as it will only result in a longer session and possible consequences... Do you have a preferred method of contact?" the old man said.


    Orison said, "How about grabbing left wrists with left hands. We could maybe have a tea or coffee while we talk? No one said it had to be unpleasant, right?"


    The old man smiled faintly and said, "No but you''d think someone did with how it usually goes. I wouldn''t mind a spot of tea."


    While the man''s assistant made beverages happen, Orison engaged in light dialog, practicing focusing on the man''s words and then mentally reacting to them rather than reacting while the man spoke. It was something that some did naturally and wouldn''t come across as using visualization training to block reading even though it very much was, masked under visualizing the reader''s words. Judging by the old man''s reaction, it was working or the man just didn''t care.


    Once they were as comfortable as they could be, the man asked, "What is the source of your mystic ability?"


    The young mage replied, "I''m not fully certain what ''mystic ability'' means but if you''re referring to the energy I feel after I became ''special'', then it''s from absorbing parts of an outsider of unknown origin after it tried to control me."


    "How did you resist the control and how did you absorb the parts you obtained?" the old man continued.


    Orison answered, "I didn''t resist much of anything. Another ''special'' scared it off by hurting it and the remnants left behind were what I took in because they were attuned to me, is the best way I can describe it."


    The man, "To the best of your knowledge, describe your source."


    Orison, "A very small connection to another place that leaks a bit of energy into me."


    Using their own expectations and what Ignatius had shared to him about how things like ifrits and devils survived when summoned elsewhere, Orison painted a picture for them. He tweaked his real circumstances to mimic inheriting the connection of a more ambivalent than malevolent entity to its spiritually neutral home plane. ''Possessing'' Orison was merely a means to an end in truth, as it had never been about him at all.


    Answering questions about his personal history was far more tricky. There were points where the old man even visibly showed some suspicion but the young mage had been cooperative enough for the ''assistant'' not to resort to more aggressive measures. They just upped the amount of repetitive questions asked in different ways.


    When it seemed like the ''interrogation'' was over and the old man showed signs of fatigue, he asked one more question. "Why did you suddenly become, uh, extremely antisocial and uncooperative towards the end of your session with Genevieve?"


    Mentally blending together all the people he''d ever met that gave him ''creeper'' vibes, Orison said, "What''s extreme about not wanting to talk after almost four hours of forced conversation?... I know that she had a job to do that meant she... She tried to convince me that I wanted to be a girl and pressured me into talking about private things, like how I would feel if I was naked. She even threatened to lock me away for three months right after I insisted I didn''t want to be her friend. I''m think she''s interested in me in ways not related to her job and that scares me a little."


    It was all true even if it was taken out of context.


    The assistant that was more like a handler of the old man, looked skeptical but then seemed to finally notice that the fully calm and rational teenager was wearing an incontinence aid and nothing else in the self harm risk room. With Orison''s personal version of the story and the public story being well matched against the assumed but unverifiable story of the hospital, it started painting Genevieve in a very bad light.


    After giving the orderly instructions to move Orison to a regular room and give him a ''decent set of clothes'', the assistant left while lending an arm to the old man. Later that afternoon, he received one more set of tests while Karen shot daggers at him. Instead of following a suggested three weeks of therapy and observation, Mark sent Orison to the selected dormitory an hour before sundown.


    Out on the road and feeling somewhat like a person again, the young mage engaged in a little meaningless but friendly banter with his driver before realizing they had nothing in common to really talk about. To avoid the ensuing awkward silence, he expressed an openness to the driver listening to whatever the guy wanted. It was mumble rap but that was fine. A person had no troubles losing themselves to personal thoughts with something like that playing in the background.


    Roused out of trance by the driver, Orison looked at the dash clock to see that it was three in the morning. They had pulled into a place that looked suspiciously like a nuclear testing facility called Dormitory 1131. While the driver was talking with gate person, Orison felt his conduit stir for a second.


    A moment later, four letters appeared in his hands and it only took him a fraction of a second to realize he was standing right next to a mail pickup box. He quickly shoved them into it before he was called over. The gate guard looked at the pick up box that had gave a slightly rusty protest when the young mage shoved the letters in and chuckled.


    "If you''re lucky, lad, you won''t be here long enough to worry about sending anybody mail. I know the place looks a little intimidating but you''d be surprised how much accidental damage a newly awakened can cause when they''re trying to figure things out," the slightly overweight and balding guy said.


    Orison nodded at the guy as he was led in by a mid forties man in fatigues, looking every bit the part of a drill instructor who didn''t want to retire but die of high blood pressure on the job instead.


    Sounding a great deal more relaxed but no less authoritative than Orison imagined he would, the man said, "You do not give names and you do not ask for them here. There will be a number on your room and gear, that''s what you will use and answer to. Don''t worry about how long it will take before you''ll leave. You''ll leave when we think it''s safe for you to leave and not a day sooner.


    "This isn''t a prison and its not a punishment. You are placed here for your safety and the safety of others. Don''t try to run. There are worse places to be and you''ll see one if you try to leave before you''re cleared to. That''s if a patrol doesn''t mistake you for rogue. You might not be seeing much of anything, after that.


    He was led to a room with plain amenities but there was a decent sized TV and what looked like some kind of gaming console behind a thick window. Not really tired, he picked up the controller and tried it out. It was 8-bit garbage for the most part but there were a couple of classic style rpgs that looked like they could make days melt by while playing. A small refrigerator unit/ vending machine style snack pantry and a closet bathroom insured that a person would never have to be let out of a room at all.


    It weirded him out more than a little. The slight tang of negative energy that drifted around didn''t help with that feeling. People had died in the room. One was recent enough for Orison''s spirit sight to catch a psychic echo they had left behind but the features were far too indistinct to tell anything meaningful about them. He wanted to cleanse the bad energy out but a newly awakened wouldn''t have that kind of focus much less know-how.


    He decided to force trance until an actual person came to speak with him. It took three days. He didn''t think it would take nearly that long and he hoped someone zoning out for that long wouldn''t make for that big of a deal considering all the other craziness that almost certainly happened at the place he found himself.


    The middle-aged woman who walked though the door and was locked in with him looked slightly aristocratic in an understated way. Loose ringlets of dark hair highlighted with the occasional thin streak of gray cascaded down to just past her shoulders. She looked fairly strong and healthy with the exception of one milky eye that somehow seemed to add gravity to her rather than a sinister air.


    "Are you feeling well today, 32?" The lady said.


    Orison said, "I''d feel a lot better if this negative energy was cleared out of here, W-1. Do rooms not get aired out after someone dies before another warm body''s shoved into it?"


    The lady looked around and said, "Think positive. Because they didn''t have time to clear it, you have much nicer amenities than some others do. A TV with video games is quite the luxury for a temporary guest... Is that the reason for your hunger strike? I see that you have an E-class sensitivity."


    Orison shook his head and said, "I think it''s probably safer to be candid with you. I was a little fugue state after being treated crappy at the hospital and shoved in this reusable coffin. I wouldn''t have went three days without eating on purpose. In fact, seeing another living face has brought my appetite roaring back. Would it be rude if I grabbed that sandwich out of there and ate while you go through the intro spiel?"


    The woman shook her head and said, "On the contrary, I''d be relieved. There''s been plenty of people who have reacted poorly to finding themselves here and finding out that your case was a blur of lost time under believable circumstances only makes my job easier. I will, of course, need to make sure that it was an isolated incident which will take a little more time."


    Orison swallowed down the first bite dry and hard, barely chewed. "It is. And it wouldn''t have happened in the first place if I hadn''t been left to rot for three days. Under the current situation, that kind of neglect is abusive under the best light."


    She nodded a little sadly. "There aren''t many mystic evaluators which means that sometimes newly awakened ones get neglected. Perhaps you could be moved to join that number and help alleviate the strain in a couple or so years."


    "Why are there so few? Has no one thought of cross training?" the young mage offered.


    The woman closed her eyes for a moment as if to steady herself. "Mystics are few in number across all government postings. Most operate independently and those willing to be a part of an organization chose League over Bureau."


    Orison said woodenly, "That suggests a systemic problem with treatment and/ or benefits because I know civilian contracting exists. There''s no way others haven''t thought of this either. That means there''s some screwed up rule or regulation somewhere that is fundamentally unacceptable."


    Somewhat heatedly, the woman said, "That''s where you''re wrong. If anything, independents and League mystics have it worse. The real problem is sitting across from me. Someone who feels slighted by the system, grinds that axe all the way to path day. The League found out a long time ago that if they let the government handle it, they get more recruits that step through their door gladly, with little convincing and less personal risk."


    Orison took a sip of bottled water and said, "So it''s a grass is greener on the other side dilemma? By not participating, the League''s grass always looks greener but the government has no choice but to plod along for everyone''s safety? I might have completely believed that if I hadn''t spent a handful of days in a hospital interacting with civilian staff.


    "I was literally forgotten for three days by everyone but the feeder tube filler, here. A perfectly normal person could actually go insane from being shaken up into a high state of anxiety and left alone that long. Even a prison has guards that pass by to check in every now and then."


    She looked at him wryly, "There''s a little saying that''s passed from guard to guard in the dormitories, 32. Once possessed always a possession risk. Sitting on a bed unmoving for hours is abnormal behavior. They aren''t going to break protocol to-"


    Orison cut her off, "Speak through the intercom speaker up there in the corner of the room? So they were watching but waiting to see what would happen. After three days, they became worried that I''d die from something my records wouldn''t show a reason for. Face it. The government deserves its bad reputation if this is the state of its system.


    "But let me be clear. I''m no holy crusader. I just want to get out of here as soon as possible, just like anyone else sealed up in one of these little shoe box hells. Lets start from there."


    Like a martyr forced to speak with the devil, her eyes rolled to the ceiling in silent suffering for a moment before she proceeded. It seemed her main job was as a government propaganda specialist and mystic evaluator was only a side gig. Despite that, he did get useful information out of it.


    Through a bit of chatter, it became clear that Beta Prime was an alternate Earth. It hadn''t been that clear at first because several supernatural incidents had reshaped the geographical layout significantly and his shell hadn''t been that good of a student. It didn''t help that in the late 1800''s, a United Kingdom group called the League of Extraordinaries slowly deviated sociopolitical movements. To keep the growing power of the supernatural group from becoming a titular authority of the entire world in all but name, multiple agreements were reached to consolidate governmental authority. All done in the name of protecting mundane human interests and rights.


    In the early 1920''s a new calendar was established to commemorate the bipartisan world governments of the progressive west and conservative east. That consolidated even further when an orphaned extraterrestrial with nearly godlike strength sought refuge with the League in AU (in the year of unification) 26. The young man shared the technology used to build a mega city in the southern polar continent of the world, renamed Avalon. In fearful response, the two world governments merged to form a unified world government at the Dragon and Phoenix Treaty.


    A few years without planar or alien threats later and the world almost erupted into a global civil war between mundane humans and everything else. To head off a locally caused apocalypse, the UTC (Unified Terran Congress) sat down with the League''s triumvirate for over a three month period. During which, they hashed out a global constitution while enduring an endless litany of interruptions from assassination and terrorist attempts. Some of which were successful and still carry hard feelings on both sides.


    Once she finished her exposition on why it was in Orison''s best interests to maintain UTC citizenship, which included access to almost eighty percent of the world without visa, she finally got to the basic stuff. Newly awakened went through a minimum one week training where stability and safety of mind, body and abilities were evaluated. That could be extended and often was but required a League representative to review for signs of experimentation, torture and indoctrination on a weekly basis.


    Because she had to, she included information on standards for those desiring to remain civilian independent and League hopefuls. B-class and higher anything ''needed'' to have a permanent residence in one of the reinforced mega cities. Many C-classes were also ''required'' to have a home in one as well. Reading between the lines, the truth was that the government was ''required'' to provide one. She wanted to paint it as something forced so she could showcase a dubious benefit to live elsewhere if one was a government employee.


    Orison thought to himself, "If I work for the government, I can chose to live in a reservation built on one of nature''s sh*tholes or on a military base with people who are afraid of and probably also hate me!? Who wants to live in a big city that the League and UTF both monitor for safety and equality standards? Sign me right up!"


    She said, "The run down''s done. The next part is unpleasant but if there are no surprises, you can mark two weeks on you calendar. Maybe that will grant you some solace in the days to come."


    The young mage suppressed a shudder over the implication behind the words.

 152 Country of Champions 3

    From day one, Orison saw how things were and the nature of evaluation week. The staff took an inventory of everything from the S\u0026M bars and used a prescribed list of ways to kill the person being examined that would allow them to be brought back with only a five percent or lower chance of ''unable to revive''. Every one of them designed to specifically target each bar for accuracy and performance. At least, that''s how it felt to the young mage. He had to admit that there was little way to fool such an evaluation system.


    For his mystic bar, the woman handed him a device that looked vaguely like the one he''d used in White River to test magic reserve and recovery. Thing was, it wasn''t a passive device. Within two seconds, it had sucked him dry and started chewing into his life force but the woman didn''t stop it until after ten seconds. In his panic, Orison had let more slip from his space in an effort for the thing not to kill him.


    He couldn''t imagine how such a test would devastate someone else. Not only had the device scoured his body clean, it would have halved his lifespan if he didn''t have ways to recover it. What was worse, she only gave him a few hours and a lunch break before she did it again. They let him languish on the border of death for half a day before Orison realized they weren''t going to do anything until he ''died''. It took everything he had to let it happen.


    The next day he awoke to his body being full of returned essence aside from his life force. He only received half of that back. He had a good feeling that if he said something, the stolen part might inevitably be returned with just a little missing but he held back.


    To test his E-class magic augmentation and as an extended evaluation of his D-class genetic deviation, the older drill sergeant looking guy fought/beat him to death. Orison kept the teaser suit in and barely hid the more advanced parts of his training. When it came to possibly winning, there was no hope of that anyway. Too many factors were stacked in the older man''s favor.


    Orison watched on dispassionately from a spiritual viewpoint as the medical team suddenly had to fight to save his life seriously due to a sudden brain embolism that caused a massive stroke. There might be quite a bit of validity to stress testing under the threat of death but it seemed too much. There was no denying that Orison saw a glimmer of real enjoyment in the man''s eyes.


    For the E-class sensitivity test, it was broken up into a ''haunted house'' scenario where he almost died two times. Then it was a pain curse paintball portion that lasted for an hour and made Orison prefer a temporary death. Finally it was a plethora of mundane surprise assaults from people, rubber bullets and various other completely UN-supernatural things that only threatened his life once when one of the spring traps sliced his inner thigh.


    The week was over but he was left to languish alone in his room for another three days. The League representative''s meeting with Orison had been postponed for that and another three days of ''therapy'' that was more a validation of his treatment with shovels full of real and pseudo-scientific reasoning behind the tests. Regardless of how strong he thought himself to be, the young mage had legitimately been traumatized by the event.


    During one eight hour extended trance, after a PTSD flash of being beaten to death, Orison calmed his heart rate back down and thought, "No, there''s another subtle thing instilled in all of this. It''s something aimed at C-class and lower specials. Fear the government and tolerate abuse from humans. It might hurt but as long as you cooperate, you''ll be okay."


    On the morning of his thirteenth day, the woman he called W-1 came in. "I''ll be taking you to meet someone in a moment but first, I need to know that you understand the necessity of everything that happened here. If you don''t, I can ensure you have all the time you need here to receive the explanations and any other kind of help you feel you may need."


    There was an entreaty and a subtle threat woven together in her words.


    Looking at Orison compassionately, she said, "When the League participated in the evaluations, it wasn''t any different. I promise you that. If you believe that they''re wrong, join the system and help make them better."


    Orison looked at her with dull, haunted eyes and said, "Children are born on Avalon every day. They stopped ''evaluating'' because they found better and more humane ways to measure abilities and assess risk. The evaluation process of the UTF is quick, efficient, cost effective and nets them resources."


    The woman looked at Orison in horrified disbelief. "From the Bars to evaluation and the following special education, it costs the government one third of its yearly budget to deal with the full umbrella program. Only ten percent, sometimes less, contribute back in any meaningful way by working for the government."


    The young mage just shook his head. Accepting her ''defeat'' in front of his ''ignorance'', she marched him to the League representative with the suppressed anger of a military officer escorting a traitor to public execution. Once done bringing him to the therapy room, she stormed off.


    A grim looking, gray eyed man with a steely aura, motioned for Orison to sit. After giving a formulaic breakdown of his reason for being there and what he did, which Orison pretty much already knew, the man opened the floor for Orison to speak.


    While giving the surface breakdown of all that his stay had entailed, Orison bit his thumb and silently drew a bloody circle on the table. Without batting an eye, the man followed both his spoken word and the note that appeared in the bloody circle before it became a light bit of dust. After acknowledging what he had seen with a slow nod and a spark of anger in his eyes, the man finished green checking that all Orison had SAID matched evaluation procedures, if barely.


    The grim man explained. "Normally this is where I give you the breakdown as gently as I can considering what you''ve endured to reach this point... Seeing that you''re steadier of mind than most I meet for the first time, allow me to give you a better idea of what you''re looking at right now. As a minor and ward of the state, the government is your legal guardian and can hold you from your ''Path Day'' until majority. The exceptions to that aren''t reflected on your Bars chart or anything I''ve HEARD you say here."


    The man pointed at the table and gave Orison a subtle thumbs up.


    He then continued, "When your Path Day does come, whenever that will be, you''ll be tasked with making the important decision to go independent or chose between government and the League of Extraordinaries. I''ll be more candid with you than I am with most. It''s not a clear cut choice.


    "The government will give you a more structured environment with clear and visible rules. Your pay and perks will be set in stone and follow a progression you can count on. It really isn''t a bad choice for someone who desires an uncomplicated and straightforward life."


    The man stopped to look at Orison. The young mage slowly shook his head. The grim man silently acknowledged and continued, "Directionless independents have it rough. Those who apply their talents to ever needed civilian professions, particularly medical fields, will find a place to belong and acceptance by the powers that be as long as they live peacefully. Outside of that, specials who chose to be independent but aspire to be no more than self serving are seen as lazy cowards by most of the League and potential internal threats by the UTF."


    The man stopped to look at Orison again. The young mage held out his hand and flipped it a couple times indicating he was considering it but not dead set to go independent.


    Acknowledging again, the man took a calming breath and said, "About half who come for citizenship, earn it. Less than a quarter of the League members who serve past that, make it to retirement. Almost half overall leave service in an urn or coffin.


    "Citizenship of Avalon requires ten years of active service and eight as reserves that can be called to active at any time. To retire with benefits requires twenty years active and eight years reserve. Educational and combat training prerequisites may only count for up to two of those years regardless of how long it takes to meet them.


    "Avalon is a beautiful place but it was built on the bodies of its citizens. We fight and all too often, we die to defend this world that rarely shows more than contempt for us. Avalon is filled with knowledge and secrets because without them, we would have already fallen to our enemies and this world would fall with us. Avalon is a paradise because nothing less could nourish and heal those who constantly battle the darkness and are stained by it.


    "We have more to offer for those who seek self improvement but we ask more for it. Ultimately, we are a meritocracy with all the flaws and advantages that implies. It is true that we have a physical and intellect standard for all citizens save those who have served their time. It is false that we deport those who struggle to meet them. Determination is a merit and as long as we see it, additional assistance will be provided."


    The man waited in silence for Orison to digest that and answer questions. The young mage felt the draw. His instincts practically shouted that he needed to fight and even resign himself to participating in some spiritual predation if he wanted to climb higher than a couple more steps and a tier four range. It didn''t HAVE to be then and there but it was the best time in his development to face a new type of baptism, one of death and violence. Still, he hesitated.


    He didn''t know how things had played out for Gan. He definitely knew that Stag had chosen the independent path and Ivan would most definitely WANT Avalon but he was unsure if Ivan was even alive. Somewhere along the way, he had lost Stag''s mark after the Zeke ritual or many of those questions would already be answered.


    Seeing his hesitation, the man said, "It''s all theoretical but were you in a situation to choose, a minor can bring a guardian and up to two siblings to Avalon with them but those so chosen would be held by the same performance standards as everyone else."


    Orison''s had teased out that his vision while in the illusion of Duran, Stag and Droya were true visions. That meant there were only three people and possibly Rio that he was concerned with at the moment. There was a lot of uncertainty but he only really needed one ''family''. He felt responsible for Stag and Ivan somewhat but they were grown men with their own abilities to fend for themselves. He''d help Rio if he could but didn''t feel any sense of debt or anything more than a bit of sympathy towards the boy. What was being offered was more than enough.


    The young mage said, "It''s a shame its only theoretical. I''m certain I would choose Avalon and not because of a desire for safety. To grow, I think I need a place like the League."


    The man stood up and offered his hand to Orison which the young mage took, exchanging a solid shake before the man said, "At the LONGEST, you can be held by the system for THREE more years. If you hold steady, I''m sure they''ll pass like DAYS. Stay strong and I hope you''ll feel the same way then."


    When they parted, there was a moment as he was being led back to his room where a slightly antagonistic conversation took place between the League man and the UTF woman. His paperwork would receive the man''s clearance stamp after a week of dual agency therapy and Orison was to be given ''topside'' accommodation. She countered that Orison was a ward of the state and that the education system could provide counseling, making clear that she didn''t care for the young mage''s lack of consideration for the UTF''s investment in his well being and care.


    He didn''t hear the rest of the conversation but the older man who''d once beaten him to death, guided him to a new room. "You don''t look traumatized to me. I think if you were given half the chance, you''d take another beating from me just for the privilege of taking a few more swings."


    Orison said, "Especially if I got the performance enhancers and defensive gear while YOU wore the strike pads. Damn right I would and I''d enjoy it as much as you did."


    The older man gave him a grudging nod of approval before walking away. After looking around at the doorless room with a window Orison walked out into the common area a few seconds later. The only other resident was a twelve year old girl who was silently crying while watching a cartoon show. The staffer behind the observation desk looked at the girl with a kind of vague sympathy.


    He upped his spirit sight to just shy of eye glow in the slightly dim room. There was a small cluster of slowly fading spirit essence motes tied to her by a withering line. At one point, it could have been anything from a thought form to something more substantial like Jammers but its core had been ripped out. Since the girl could probably no longer feel it, the line of essence that allowed her to feed it was disappearing along with her belief that it was there still.


    He sat down with a seat between them and whispered, "It''s still there. I think it''s letting itself fade because it blames itself for what happened to you here."


    When she looked at him sharply, about to say something, Orison gave a pointed look at the doughy woman behind the desk.


    She pretended to pay attention to the cartoon for awhile and once the woman''s interest in the two faded back from alertness, the girl said, "I felt the metal ball take Rocky away. It took part of me away too and they didn''t give it back. They told me not to lie and then they told me that Rocky was just tired but I can''t feel him anymore. They killed him and they lied about it."


    Orison replied, "They took your... friend''s core. But you hold your memories with him and the ability to keep him alive until he can make another. He might not be exactly the same and it will take time but you can. The first step is convincing Rocky that you don''t want him gone."


    The girl started crying again. "I did. I told him I hated him and said all kinds of mean things because I did think it was his fault."


    "Do you feel that way now?" Orison asked.


    "No!'' the girl said, loud enough to draw the staffer''s eyes over to them.


    The doughy woman said, "Eleven, do you want me to make thirty-two leave you alone?"


    The girl tried her best to drum up a fake smile through all her fear and sadness. "No, it''s alright. I''m just a little fuzzy headed from all the sleeping."


    "Thirty-Two, you might be trying to make her feel better or something but touching of any kind between dorm residents is prohibited for any reason. If you don''t want to be sent back down, keep that in mind," the staffer said.


    After that, it was impossible for them to talk about the girl''s issue directly but he said, "When I''m sad about someone who feels far away, I try to think of all my memories I have with them and make it into an envelope full of magic pictures. Then I send it to them like a prayer, believing as hard as I can that they will get it. Start from when you first met and don''t try to send more pictures than you can fit inside the envelope. They have to be clear and even if that means one at a time, that''s fine."


    As mundane and not out of the ordinary as the girl''s soul was, it possessed a quality that was beyond Orison''s ability to see or understand. The negligible few motes of spirit essence the girl sent through her connection was almost lost under the sand grain sized motes of the essence Orison had identified as having to do with faith, ''faith essence'' for lack of a better term. Seeing that the girl was ''praying'' her memory letters fervently and with a closed eye intensity that made it seen bad to interrupt her, he got up and milled around.


    Until his pacing caught the woman''s attention, he absentmindedly noted that she had been sending ''memory letters'' to someone too. No one was an island and the young mage''s instructions couched in comforting rhetoric seemed to have inspired the doughy woman unintentionally. Even though the greedy world took the light dusting of spirit essence for itself, two tiny particles of faith essence drifted unhindered through the wall of the common room.


    Apparently the woman''s ''faith'' wasn''t that strong because as soon as her concentration broke to observe him, the two tiny motes drifted back in and were hijacked by the girl''s ''friend''. Rocky didn''t take them in. they just orbited around the tiny cloud of self contained spirit essence. He found himself inspired by the woman''s unintentional inspiration and took a moment to find humor in the absurdity of it.

 153 Country of Champions 4

    Two hours later, in his room, Orison felt frustrated. He just didn''t have any talent in ''manipulating'' faith essence. Attempts to see if faith essence could be used to track people and objects was a complete bust. For his friends, they wouldn''t drift out at all but followed vestigial connections from his soul. For things and people he didn''t have much of any kind of connection to, they would drift out lazily before being attracted towards where he assumed the girl''s room was.


    Another revealed facet that made faith essence not that appealing was the vague sense of stress and fatigue that came from the core of his soul as he played around with forming the little motes. Considering that Orison''s soul core was already ''stressed'' from being the inner part of the ring around the white hole, it felt like pushing his experiments beyond the bit of dabbling he did would be dangerous. Dropping his experiments, the young mage thought it was interesting that as basic as they seemed, soul cores had diversity as well.


    From everything that he understood, Soul cores were a static thing that the greater laws actively protected from being tampered with. Yet, his soul core was probably about twenty times the spiritual ''mass'' of others and was the inner part of a portal ring. The girl from the common room had a regular looking soul and core but was capable of producing motes of faith essence many times stronger and more frequently than he''d ever seen before. Towards the end of her life, Zoe had seemed to form a large, decompressed version of a soul core that became more substantial the more she contemplated existential thoughts and practically prayed to what she believed to be the ruler of her afterlife.


    The more he learned about faith and the nature of the soul, the more he found that logic couldn''t contain it. Even the laws of existence that included it only seemed to define what couldn''t be done with it or to it and that was about it. Faith essence defied and occasionally temporarily redefined the structure of existence but wasn''t invalidated or rejected the same way low dimensional nonsense would be. There were important observations and discoveries hidden in it that were useful to Orison or he wouldn''t bother with it.


    Outside of fringe assistance, faith essence wasn''t something people ''used'', per say. It was more something that they made and gave to something/someone else. He may bump against the borders of faith during ritual magic but that was actually where the line between what he was capable of doing and what a shaman did. Orison knew that there was an even further line between a shaman and a priest.


    On the other side, there was the floor of science. Beyond it was the burial ground of mysteries and miracles. It was the poison of faith and the slaughterhouse of magic that creeped too close to its domain. Reaching too far past the wall of science is what kept him from mastering teleportation when he could use it.


    The more he had focused on the math, the more limited in ability his magic had become to translate it into a spell. Gerrald had long ago pointed out to Orison, who arrogantly claimed to have already known, that the key to becoming a master mage lied in mysticism. Despite ''knowing'', he had focused on the math, the science behind it and failed. The border of what was useful to magic had become clearer but the knowledge of what wasn''t, displayed how shallow of an understating of magic he had.


    He was surrounded by walls of ignorance, fear and morality. The constraints of ability, potential and time were also there. He was finding his limits but he was also finding his own personal definition. Once done, pushing the limits and redefining would be much easier. It may seem contradictory to be relieved by the sight of limits but he had grasped at so much in the beginning that he had fumbled around, lost in what he had claimed. To finally find that what he had claimed was actually very small meant he had grown into it and would soon be prepared to grow beyond.


    He had plenty of time to drift into such thoughts over the next two days as the therapist he had before rehashed over the same material while being a little more low key about justifications under the silent but watchful eye of her col-League. Orison wondered why the League woman was even there until the end of the second session when she suddenly looked up sharply. Standing up with a fluid grace, the overly pale, silver haired woman made her way to Orison.


    Under the shocked eyes of the UTF sponsored therapist, she said, "Do you, Orison Cantrip, accept the protection of the League of Extraordinaries?"


    "I do," Orison said.


    "Do you accept the privileges and corresponding duties associated with probational citizenship of Avalon?" she added.


    The young mage said gravely, "I do."


    She gave a faint smile and said, "Then by the power invested in me by the Triumvirate and the global constitution, I hereby swear you in as provisional junior League member and probationary citizen."


    Turning to the UTF therapist, she said, "Under the by laws of disenfranchised supernaturals and in compliance with all known current statutes and codes, this is a witnessed and legally binding verbal agreement."


    As a reddish orange dome of light cascaded around the dormitory, Orison felt the silver haired woman''s aura slide over him a split second before everything stilled. In what had felt like a moment but was apparently early the next morning, he stood in the rocky field outside the dorm with an array of fully armored figures surrounding him. By his side was the silver haired woman and gray eyed man.


    He was confused but the Gray eyed man filled him in. "The facility went into lock down and there was an extrication carried out before you and my sister were released from it. It was a predictable reaction but you must be cautious. There are several factors that have you in a legal limbo of rights and citizenship at the moment."


    One of the armored men stepped forward and said, "Enough council. It''s a simple procedure. This boy claims that more life force was extracted from him than what is allowed. We will give him a recall device. All that was taken from him will be returned and we can measure from that whether his claim is true or not. Truth reader testimony is not permissible as proof for clearly documented reasons."


    The man handed Orison a metal ball that didn''t look much different to the one that had taken his life force to begin with but under the scrutiny of spirit sight, he could tell it was a reverse operation and even had significantly boosted radius. There was some kind of odd magic model connected to a touch of his life force that was already in it before he touched it.


    The armored man said, "This will sample your life force and since you are a mystic type, you can use it to return that life force to yourself."


    The silver haired woman said, "It can also take life force from others if that person has been exposed to his."


    The armored man replied, "Only if he is an essence eater. If that is so, he was mislabeled in his S-bars and requires verification and evaluation procedures to be administered a second time."


    Shaking the cobwebs out of his head, Orison said, "This device''s boosted range can''t possibly cover the whole world, which is as far as my harvested resources could potentially be, so that''s bullsh- er, invalid. It also has a secondary reserve with unrelated magic to its main purpose. I may not be able to tell what it is but I can say with a reasonable degree of certainty that it''s a piece of evidence now."


    Orison finished by handing it to the gray eyed man.


    The silver haired woman shared a look with her brother and told Orison, "This will escalate. If you aren''t sure, this could end up being very bad for you."


    The young mage said, "If a portion of my life force wasn''t already in the device before it was handed to me, I wouldn''t have known."


    A magnetically pleasant older man''s voice, both calming and authoritative, echoed out from above them, "That''s quite enough using the situation to test our young little magician I think."


    Dr. Odd, known by all and the Triumvir of Mystics within the Triumvirate, landed with artistic flare.


    Orison thought, "Well, it''s not every day that you get to see a sophisticated gentleman wear an expensive three piece suit and a Vegas magician''s cape at the same time."


    Orison''s eyes suddenly went blurry a several shadowy versions of himself performed different actions for a couple of seconds and then dissipated.


    He muttered, "Fifty-two other ''me''s. What the hell just happened?"


    After having handed over the device to one of the most politically if not supernaturally powerful men in the world, the gray eyed man pulled Orison back in a flicker of movement that sent them to the edge of the field and said, "Due to being sensitive, you saw the echoes of Dr. Odd using his primary ability that allows him to manipulate time. For him to use it fifty-two times meant that some interesting things must have happened."


    The silver haired woman said, "For him to be here at all means something interesting happened. All we can do at this point is wait to see HOW interesting."


    AS they stood at a good, safe distance, an impromptu meeting occurred between the continental president and Dr. Odd via satellite phone. The gray eyed man lip read Odd''s half of the conversation and related it to his sister. Orison wasn''t shocked to find out that it became an issue of damage control where each side was more concerned about status quo than the issue that threatened it.


    Perhaps they felt like they had no choice but the exchange did earn a UTF budget for cracking down on institution resource trading and several arrests would be made. Tangible evidence of restitution would be expected and in return, the League wouldn''t do a public PDA about it, letting the UTF handle public relations. Both sides were aware that it wasn''t a story that could be covered up which actually helped Dr. Odd back out gracefully with some assurance that the issue would actually be addressed.


    Orison said, "I don''t really understand. Life force can''t be directly taken from one person and given to another in any way that''s useful outside of healing or maybe postponing death. Left outside of it host body, it won''t even be that useful for the person it came from after a few days. Are there secret preservation or purification methods capable of even making it a viable method for increasing someone else''s life?"


    The silver haired woman said, "Don''t underestimate its value as medicine but yes. Current best on record conversion is three to one but an average easy enough standard to obtain for the powerful and wealthy is ten to one... Forget stealing half of a child''s life for a handful of of years. Some of the people in this world would murder hundreds for a few extra days.


    "The ''acceptable'' margin for error during capacity testing is ten percent on a device capable of delivering accurate results with a margin of a tenth of a percent. A degree of exploitation is built right into the system. And no one''s going to do anything about that because the demand for the high grade medicine and life extensions that come from it are pretty much desired by everyone.


    "If it weren''t for a few key factors, the problem would be an immeasurably terrifying one: The device is expensive to make and the materials needed to make it are rare. Almost everyone builds up a tolerance to any particular external source of life extension quickly, sometimes after one use. To top it all off, the person who does the stealing and everyone who knowingly participates along the way will show it in their auras."


    Orison said, "It''s just a sad fact that every mystic class who walks through an evaluation dorm is going to lose years of their life? That issue aside, that f***ing ball harvests more than just life force! There is a girl in the dorm right now whose supernatural gift was crippled because it ripped her familiar''s core out!


    "There are newly awakened who are bound to be fragile and that device can outright steal the spiritual materials that make them special if not just plain kill them! That''s insane! What are they even doing with that stuff? Are they sacrificing it ¡­ for...


    "It''s another thing that''s allowed, isn''t it? Some supernatural somewhere is not only slurping up some kid''s life juice, they''re eating the kid''s very future for a tiny power-up. What''s the justification?"


    Visibly upset because Orison''s words were something that very much resonated with her, The silver haired woman looked out silently into the darkness that sunrise was slowly banishing.


    The gray eyed man said, "Survival. The justification that''s used is survival. Most of the time it''s a thinly veiled lie but those who earn distinction in the UTF and Avalon are sometimes given something, in secret, to aid them in growing their gifts. Avalon gets theirs from battling on grounds where such things can be the spoils of war but the UTF needs to find a way to balance everything that Avalon can do. Their answer is a challenge to the youngest generation. For those whose gifts are too weak and fragile for them to hold on to, that potential becomes a supplement to those whose gifts were stronger and loyally serves the one who can give it to them."


    Orison felt disgust. "Dark horses beat sure bets all the time. Who knows how many great legends they choked to death in the cradle to give a gold star lapdog a little treat. It''s idiocy beyond words...


    "Let me guess the unnaturally high rate of death penalty for independents who die by lethal metal ball. Let me guess how many actually got a fair trial and a proper appeals hearing. If they''ll kill innocent children then their bottom line for serving the ''greater good'' must make devils and demons shiver in anticipation of the bountiful harvest of nasty stains this world produces."


    The gray eyed man looked at Orison piercingly and said, "You have no idea how close to the truth you come."


    Orison gave him the best ''WAT!?'' face he could but didn''t get anymore out of the man?


    Dr Odd walked over to them, "It''s handled as best as can be... Young man, as long as you cooperate, I''ll give you a personal induction that will be less than five minutes and save you a good month or more. I pretty much know all your secrets and can tell you mine are far more profound... Just so you know I''m not bluffing; Gold ring, ring shaped soul a, er, little place that''s all your own... Are you game?"


    Keeping his face from going pale, Orison dryly swallowed and slowly nodded his head. After muttering some arcane gibberish, the man touched the young mage''s chest with a tremor in it that suggested Dr. Odd would rather pet a scorpion''s back. A sudden flash of understanding on how the old magician had discovered so much about him made Orison smile a little.


    While little orbs of floating light and ethereal scrolls filled with ghostly writing, Dr. Odd said, "Justice, take notes. Liberty, act as witness."


    The sibling duo nodded and the old magician spilled his findings. "Astral age... let''s just say fifteen. Physical age, it''s a hot mess because of how much they took from him but let''s say seventeen on a two year room for error... Chronometric age, 274. Emotional age... psychologist, I am not but I can abuse a little triumvirate power to declare him mature enough to give consent and provisionally to drink... Your welcome.


    The old magician acknowledged then overruled Liberty''s protest and continued, "C-class polymath sorcerer, magic focus dependent and let''s say novice level training to be on the safe side. D-class augmentation... I''d say C but it''s equipment dependent and I don''t think that''s accurate enough... The rest can stay how it is. He''s an overall non-standard C-class with no hard cap. Give him B privilege and after two years, make him earn it to keep it.


    "Start him in secondary education with two years worth of ''juice box'' spread over three months... Don''t look at me like that, Liberty. He could take more but I don''t want to scare anybody... Declare your suit, robe, ring focus and any other precious possession you plan on using in the next year with Liberty, Mr. Cantrip. Old fossils in the ranks probably won''t outright steal something from you but they might force a trade.


    Orison nodded and went to speak before Dr Odd added, "I''m pulling rank to enforce top security clearance now... Do not nuke Avalon if you feel threatened. At least try to rely on the system for justice first. And I know, some of those old fossils could use a three second vacation in your private getaway but please refrain. It''s too hard to replace qualified educators and trainers when the best of us prefer to retire from active service AFTER we''re dead."


    Orison said. "Define polymath sor-"


    Dr. Odd bulldozed on, "Sorry but we have things to get through and I have other places to be. Liberty can answer your questions later... I''m going to chant out a line for you. Touch my amulet when I say to and it will draw lost things back to you, within reason. Don''t worry about any people traps. If they set you up to kill someone, the intended victim will be drawn here instead."


    The old magician started chanting again and then motioned for Orison to touch the amulet that hung around his neck. Doing as instructed, he didn''t feel a rush of returned essence as he expected. Instead, four people and a pile of children''s bodies appeared before them as broken pieces of a wooden ring and wand pelted Orison in the chest lightly.

 154 Country of Champions 5

    Recognizing the girl from the common room and Rio among the victims, Orison was on the verge of a total eclipse rage out. Dr. Odd chanted out a spell that immobilized the two men along with the mother and her child from the four person group while Liberty slid her aura over Orison again. While Liberty struggled to calm Orison down, Dr. Odd handed his satellite phone over to Justice and started chanting over the dead children.


    Justice''s phone call informed the president about the evolution of the situation. They knew without having to even check that there was a live feed satellite pointed where they were standing and there was no way a triumvir of the League could allow the UTF to spin a story involving him and dead children. That was especially true when it looked like whatever Dr. Odd did, could have been linked to their death. That wasn''t true but it would be too easy to spin a story that insinuated it.


    Orison could tell that Dr. Odd suddenly felt very regretful about offering Orison the use of his amulet. Fortunately, there was just too much goodness inside the man to reverse time and pretend that he hadn''t seen it. Whatever Dr. Odd was doing to try to fix the nightmare of a situation, it made him age in fast-forward as the amulet threw off a strong, metallic green light.


    In the distance, on the road just outside of the no entry post, news groups were pulling up like they were fire fighters trying to get to a burning building. Various members of the UTF and League were using a multitude of supernatural and technological means to appear at the scene. It seemed like the situation was spiraling out of control but the top brass that was showing up, smoothed things into order in an almost numb and slightly apathetic manner.


    While Justice explained the situation to the PR people of both groups, Orison assured Liberty that he could contain himself so that she could help. Temporarily free of restraint and instruction, the young mage observed that Dr. Odd was pushing past a lesser restraint on his control over time at the cost of his own lifespan to reverse time for the pile of dead children. Once color returned to the first child, Orison whispered to Justice about what he knew of the girl from the common room''s story and requested that Rio return with them.


    Pausing his briefing with the PR people, Justice asked why the one Orison identified as Rio needed to come with them and the young mage said, "He shares a sensitive secret with me and our future well being are connected."


    Justice replied, "I believe you and I''ll do what I can but this situation has become complicated."


    Through the next couple of hours, all of the milling people finally put together the truth of what had happened. The people behind the resource smuggling decided to grab up as much ''resources'' as they could in order to bribe their way out of the trouble Orison had brought them. The idea was to pin the ruinous theft on the young mage but when he didn''t fall for their trick, they tried to use up the resources and remove any ''evidence'' of wrongdoing. Once it became obvious that the people who were responsible couldn''t wiggle out anymore and the children were going to survive, Orison stopped listening in.


    While he had been waiting on his turn to offer a statement, best for last, the young mage had been working on piecing the wand and ring back together. The two items had become something a bit more than they had been after riding with him through his time being sealed away. It seemed like a waste not to try and save them. He was still baffled how Rio managed to bring them along for the ride but at least he knew what the kid had been up to during that long ''bathroom break''.


    He was beginning to wonder if Rio might be a bit of a kleptomaniac. It wasn''t a nice thought and as he pieced together the wooden tools, he pieced together what he knew of Rio''s life. In truth, the boy was just trying to earn, any way he could, what had been handed to Neil and his older brother. From the little Orison had gathered, Neil had been a good father but didn''t like the supernatural that much and the other people in Rio''s life had treated him like he was handicapped. It was telling that, with Neil unconscious, Jen was the only one who seemed distressed that Rio had gotten separated from them.


    Distracted by his thoughts, the young mage had missed how the wand and ring were repairing themselves after he had them stuck together. There were enough abilities casually being thrown around that no one noticed the small surge of essence or dim flash of light that accompanied their full restoration. Before stowing them away, he gave them a once over to discover another pleasant surprise.


    When an item survived a boundary crossover but wasn''t a boundary item, they conformed to fit their new reality. Normally such a change wasn''t drastic, just a natural process of ''fitting in''. The ring hardly changed at all but the wand had seven basic ritualized magics carved into it. Underneath the arcane lock that stopped them from being read directly, the seven models had changed in minor ways to work in the world they were in. Essentially, the crossing had turned the wand into a beginner''s grimoire.


    Since the magic carved into the wand was mostly made from his own core concepts, it only took Orison a few minutes to compile the scraps of newly revealed model portions on each magic application. Even so, it had saved him days if not months of stumbling around on his own while he was busy with who knows what else. Considering how difficult and expensive moving a little bit of his own blood on a table had been, it was a welcomed surprise.


    Sadly, with that bit of knowledge gleaned, the wand had downgraded back down to a cheap channeling tool again in Orison''s eyes. From what little he had noted from his examination of the ruby ring''s minor alterations, the wooden wand and ring combo couldn''t hold a candle to it as a focus or channel. Despite that, his practice set held bits of knowledge that even elderly magic scholars might fight to the death over if they knew what it contained, hidden within the simple magical applications carved into the ring and wand''s surfaces.


    Bored with using them to doodle on the pavilion tent canvas after the common room girl stopped making picture requests, he wrote a quote from ''The Little Mermaid'' where she had him draw one and stowed the tools away. By then, it was time for him to give his statement and it went much like he expected it to but they did throw him for a loop when his status as a person was called into question. Within a short period of time, the UTF had compiled a personality profile on him prior to his ''awakening'' and laid down evidence of successful possession which would make Orison an illegal ''alien'' and a possible enemy spy. It was a serious allegation and there was plenty of circumstantial evidence to back it up.


    The real purpose was to shut down his relevance as a witness and victim. He was sure the UTF was doing it in every way they could to each of the survivors in an effort to minimize financial and image damage. The sad fact was, he and Rio''s identity might be torn apart under a deeper investigation. Since the UTF wanted to flip the table over to change the rules of the game, Orison was inspired to do the same.


    In an overly dramatic voice dripping with sarcasm, he said, "Oh, you caught me! I''m an illegal alien that completely took over this poor, defenseless child and am now commended into the custody of The League entirely! They''ve accused and I admit it. Please take me and my fellow alien dorm mates away for interrogation, Justice...


    "Oh, you forgot that extra planar and extra terrestrial affairs were the jurisdiction of the League as long as a member was present that could neutralize the threat? Too bad. I''m running with this bullsh*t you shoveled and now it has to be verified since I admit it for myself and all the children here. We no longer are wards of the state or even world citizens until cleared of the accusation I admit to."


    Dr. Odd''s apprentice, Jacques LeStrange, was already sick of the tedious burden his mentor had dumped into his lap and ran with the loophole Orison threw him. "He''s right inspector. I''m afraid there''s no time to waste, as the very souls of all these precious children may be in danger!"


    Under the loud protest of several UTF officials, Jacques said calmly, "Triumvir Adjunct LeStrange requests Sky Hook clearance orange. The following non-hostile, potential alien refugees require transport to nearest minimum security holding facility with open and active medical bay..."


    The man did a round robin of brief stationary stares with a command of ''lock and transport''.


    After he was done, Jacques deactivated his connection to the tech based teleportation system and said, "Did I say refugees? I meant, fugitives. English is so hard sometimes. Oh, well. I''m sure the responding staff will know what I meant. We are a well organized and completely lawful organization after all."


    Orison had to stay behind to finish his statement while enduring hateful glances all around. There were a couple of civilian parents that were shouting bloody murder in the distance too but it seemed fake. It took some time for the UTF folks to wonder why there weren''t more angry outcries at the mass kidnapping that just happened.


    An aid who was keeping an eye on media feeds, signaled his superior''s attention. For the whole time, the present group thought all the attention was on the pavilion that had been set up because it blocked public eye to some degree. But during the time that Orison had been giving his statement, that had ceased being the reason.


    Enough time had passed that the sun had slid past noon. Light reflecting off a mirror-like surface of a piece of equipment, beamed into the pavilion tent. From their side, it just looked like the the girl was playing with the beam but from the other side, it showed the occasional silhouette of a girl. She was using the mirror on the folding hairbrush brush someone had given her to illuminate the mermaid and by coincidence, Orison''s quote.


    With a little newsroom editing, and it didn''t take much, her actions took on a haunting quality. Orison''s absentminded scribble of ''But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore suffers so much more.'' from Han''s book became a poignant social commentary on the struggles of young ''differently advantaged''. The whole story did, really.


    Seeing what was being aired while Liberty was looking at a news reel herself, Orison thought, "Some book publisher is about to rake in a quick buck over a reprint."


    Seeing that their efforts to undercut the continental president''s promises to Dr. Odd had become pointless, the UTF PR group stopped impeding a wrap up and things rapidly progressed. Within a half hour, Orison was receiving a procedural physical and blood work.


    After only an hour at an Avalon detainment/processing hub, the young mage could start to see why general public opinion swung so widely. On one side, the League was light years more advanced in tech but considering what mischief the UTF got up to with the essential tech that had inevitably leaked, it was pretty obvious what would happen if the League lost it''s overwhelming advantage in raw strength.


    Liberty said, "We don''t have much more time before your intake process starts. I took you this far but I need to return to my duties and you''ll be in someone else''s care moving forward. Do you have any questions for me before I give you, what we like to call around here, the ''merit summary''?"


    Orison ran through what he really wanted to know and what he thought was safe to share, then said, "What was the whole polymath sorcerer thing about?"


    She smiled and said, "There''s several classes to cover a wide variety of new terminology and you''ll be getting them soon. So you have a little more time for other questions, I''ll just answer the surface question and ignore the whole water well''s worth underneath it. A sorcerer means you have a renewing source of mystical energy that is independent of artifacts and patrons.


    "The polymath moniker is just Dr. Odd''s flair for the dramatic. Your record will have ''multi-discipline'' proficiency written in it but no one will push for specifics while you''re in secondary education. The story would have been a bit different if you had standard processing but you''ve cleared that hurdle in a single accidental leap.


    "I doubt you need any explanation on what focus dependent means but you might not be clear on the novice part. For those who possess magic abilities, it''s usually just a simple gauge of it''s strength, versatility, utility and growth potential. But for spell casters, we needed a way to rank since any of those first three factors could change with each new spell.


    "To make it simple, it''s divided into tradition grades that roughly tie in with Class rank: Neophyte straddles D and C-class. Novice is a solid C. Journeyman straddles C and B. Such terms are only used while spell casters are in education so that''s where it stops."


    The young mage digested that and asked, "What''s ''juice box''?"


    Liberty massaged her own temples like she was trying to shake a tension headache. "Sorry, it''s not your question. It''s the reminder of Dr. Odd''s bestowal. There''s some... people who are going to resent it. Some for imagined health risk and some for imaginary favoritism. None of that''s your problem but try to be broadminded if you hear a few protests.


    "Juice Box is the nickname given to the mental accelerator pods. They work by placing the body in a temporary state of minimal function, allowing more mental resources to be directed towards... thinking. There''s some other principles at work but the effects are increasing the perception of time while providing an increase to focus and memory retention. It also provides a virtual setting with a reasonably realistic facsimile of yourself.


    "It''s connected to the virtual training library and can simulate classrooms, battle grounds and even laboratories. There are limitations. Magic studies and other complex simulations with unclear definition cause errors that can be dangerous if repeated in real time. It''s primarily used for aiding those who need help with their studies and students placed in accelerator programs.


    "The time can also be bought for 1,000 merits per hour session which provides anywhere between two hours of boosted focus and retention, up to a clocked theoretical 100 hours of standard focus and retention. The standard most aim for is ten with a minor mental boost. A year''s worth of virtual time can be bought, once per person'' with 100,000 merits. Because of high demand, any more time beyond that has to be approved."


    After expressing his understanding and asking a few general questions, including how to do a database search to get in touch with people, she called a times up. With the last few minutes she had with him, she gave the breakdown on his merit summary which included a little ''what''s it worth?'' explanation. The most important comparison during that explanation was how the average C-class earned 200,000 merits a year and how ten merits equaled a UTF Credit.


    With the UTF credit roughly equaling a dollar in purchase power, that meant the average non-combat C-class out of education earned about 20,000 dollars a year. It seemed awfully low income, considering a waitress who hustled might be able to earn the same. That was mitigated a bit once Orison found out that residence, standard amenities and basic needs were provided to everyone independent of that sum.


    Orison became excited when he heard the initial portion of the merit summary that listed anticipated government remuneration and League accolade bonuses. That excitement faded to the painful reality of his actions and how much they cost him. The largest and by far the most excruciating of which was the demerits for the false accusations of illegal alien status on each child. To be fair, it did balance out well with the accolade bonus which meant that his actions had been looked upon positively. It just hurt seeing such a high number being whittled back down to modesty for the sake of making good accounting to the UTF.


    As Liberty approached the bottom of the list, Orison said, "I have to pay for the two years of Juice Box?"


    There was a slight bit of wickedness in her smile as she said, "No. I can remove them if you like."


    Backpedaling, he said, "I want them. I was just surprised. The was Dr. Odd said it made it sound like an offer not an exchange."


    She shook her head. "Have you not seen through that huge number of merits at the top? This was all planned out to make everyone look good but fair."

 155 Country of Champions 6

    A bit irritated, Orison said, "Let me guess. That modestly generous remainder is going to be burned up settling in and shelling out for magical instruction of my choosing. Something like that?"


    Taken off guard, Liberty said, "I- yes. I suppose you could see it that way and not be wrong. Let me finish!... But most first generation members start their professional lives with a five year debt repayment plan hanging over their heads. That''s the same here and the UTF... You''ll be starting with a clean black line. And don''t forget, the 1,000 monthly merit stipend for students with low or no income is there too."


    Orison laughed at the dark humor in it all. "Well, you see that expected life extension remuneration for losing half mine? I''m turning it over to the League for merits."


    Her eyes looked like they would pop out of her head. "Why would you do that!? You can''t even easily put a price tag on life extension because they''re not easily bought but I guarantee you the League will and it''ll be at ten percent its projected worth."


    Orison all but scowled. "Why would I do it? It''s simple. They''re only offering thirty years worth because of availability limitations. I GUARANTEE you they''ll be the trashiest of their lot. That means quick resistance buildup and subpar performance of their expected effect. I''ll be lucky to get half.


    "Add on top that before I have a chance to even possess them in more than theory, some a**hole is going to find yet another way to skim some from me for an even more dubious ''benefit'' to me. This way, I know what I''m getting. The League will actually give a damn about the quality of what will be sent so that ten percent will actually be quite a bit.


    "To boil it down, I won''t be ruined for better stuff I could get later. I know exactly how I''m going to be ripped off. And the icing on the cake, I won''t be poor. Do you see any flaw in my logic? That''s not rhetorical. I could use some advice from someone I believe I can trust."


    Liberty thought it over. "That''s actually fairly insightful. Although, I don''t think you would actually be fleeced as badly as you think. I can''t discount the possibility but you don''t strike me as the type to get easily fooled."


    He confessed, "It''s all the things I don''t know. I may have a good understanding of human nature but every place has it''s own secret rules and that takes time to learn. They''re not things someone can just tell you. If I have access to something too desirable to ignore, Someone will use that ignorance to trip me up and take advantage. At least merits are something easy to track and if someone squeezes me too hard, there will be proof I can use against them once I understand things better."


    Orison said, "Well, I have a soft spot for luxury and I''d like to know if there''s a way to sponsor a citizenship preemptively. I''m sure there''s also better training and material resources..."


    For the last bit of time left, Liberty did her best to financially advise the young mage. She tried to protest when he suggested she handle the plan they concocted but caved under the ten percent commission he offered her as his off duty accountant. The nice lady who came to lead him to where he''d spend a twenty-four hour observation period was alright with waiting a couple of minutes while Liberty conjured up some electronic paperwork to put their verbal discussion into a contractual agreement. She needed certain permissions and she insisted that he needed the protection such a contract would grant, further cementing in the young mage''s mind that he had made a good choice.


    The next few days were a stress inducing nightmare mostly caused by himself. His demerits might already be logged but he had to write out individual statements for each one of his illegal alien claims and the reasoning behind them. There were his own intake procedures. And since he was at it, some paperwork on Rio''s behalf as well.


    He was a bit surprised at first but because of his statement to Justice about Rio, he had taken some kind of partial responsibility for the teen. It was all about resource accountability at the end of the day and Orison was a little too high profile not to push some merit snatching bureaucracy onto. And there was nothing more important or expensive for a new citizen applicant than the adjustment tank medical ''wash'' at the end of intake. It was even broken into three tiers.


    Since he paid for it, he hadn''t actually been able to speak to Rio yet and he wanted to witness the procedure before he went through it himself, Orison attended Rio''s. Under anesthesia, the teen couldn''t talk but the attending medical personnel could and answered Orison''s questions. He just about jumped out of his skin in excitement when he realized that one of the three main ingredients was essentially some tech made vital water. After a quick rundown through the capabilities of the solution to mitigate the vital water''s danger while offering a slew of other positive minor effects, Orison was fairly certain that the procedure could handle much more of the diluted vital water than they used.


    When he asked why so little was used, the assistant explained that the supply of ''aqua vitae'' made each year was fixed. Concentration could fluctuate from year to year and after a little mental math, Orison realized that the current year''s mix was nearly a hundred times less than what it could handle. Whether it was the stimulation of genetic potential, boosts to various bodily functions or the stimulation of hidden life force production of the body, everything was powered by the diluted mix. The procedure that counted for nearly three of a new citizen''s five year debt was administered at an overall twentieth of it''s potential.


    With some quick thinking, Orison decided not to wait and had his run in tandem with Rio''s. He pulled some spatial sleight of hand and exchanged out their sorry mix for a more concentrated version capable of maximizing the potential for them both. Although he had been put under for his time in the ''specimen tank'', Orison heard afterward that it seemed like there was some kind of synergistic effect between their tanks. Orison was happy to let them think what they liked. He had merely switched out his ''aqua vitae'' container''s contents with uncut vital water and had that dumped into the center fluid distribution tank, letting osmosis handle the rest.


    He had his doubts about the regular treatment being worth 300,000 worth of debt but with his little change out, the young mage definitely thought it was. Every cell from marrow to the mostly dead outermost dermal layer was as healthy and whole as nature would allow. Everything from veins to magic channels were clear and almost damage free. They were essentially showroom floor pristine and direct delivery primed.


    Over the next seventy-two hours, he still didn''t get a word with Rio because of what intake referred to as ''the burn''. To help the body absorb some of the overflow and to take advantage of overdrive cell activity, after the medical wash was done, they were subjected to a workout that hit every muscle of the body. Warm up, wear out, cool down and then it was rinse and repeat for three days.


    The following period, known as ''the crash'' was different for everyone. Human mystics, psionics and lower end mutants with stable genes usually slept for half a day, ready to start their new lives. Rio fit this category but Orison didn''t. The young mage''s took five days.


    The powerful activation mixed with rigorous stimulation of physical potential drastically accelerated the last part of the young mage''s ''unpacking'' into the shell sent ahead into this world. He shed it dramatically. To the medical staff, such an event usually suggested a releasing of mutant latency but after another two days of testing, the only thing of relevance that they could uncover was a slight universal rise of physical parameters. The significant raise of aesthetic appeal was of no interest to them.


    Finally on his way to his new home, Orison was lost in thought rubbing the two inch growth of new hair on his head in helpless frustration. "The chinchilla fur has returned... Glad to have the old ''only human LOOKING'' teeth back, though. Human teeth are so damn fragile."


    During his trip from the satellite processing station to ''Sixth Heaven'', he used the shuttle''s public availability touch screen to get an overview of where he lived. Avalon had a fairly simple layout. There were a 108 village sized satellite installations and seven ''heavens'', an evolution of term from the ''havens'' they used to be called.


    The first heaven was the central headquarters of Avalon. Only the leadership, core members of the League and their families lived there. There were a few of the core who lived in Second Heaven along with the rest of the supernaturals who needed special accommodations, however.


    Seventh Heaven was the second biggest after Second Heaven and housed most of the agriculture. Essentially, it was a metropolitan sized greenhouse that also provided residential areas for the majority of the mundane population and the supernaturals whose jobs were agriculturally related. Like Second Heaven, it also had a couple of underground layers to keep the city dome under maximum size for efficiency. The materials and energy necessary to maintain the protective domes were already a really high part of their budget and did a lot more than just keep the antarctic chill out.


    There wasn''t really a ''bad Heaven'' to live in but, on a scale of best to worst, Sixth Heaven would be considered the worst. That was mainly due to noise and being open to the outside world. The top side was the home of global distribution centers, sports stadiums, convention halls and other large venues open to use and visits from the world at large. The underground layer was where the majority of the seven heavens'' general manufacturing and trade good processing took place. Not so surprisingly, some people DID prefer to live there.


    As for the rest: Fifth Heaven was dedicated to higher education, training and nature conservation. Third Heaven was a bit of a mystery aside from having a bit of a reputation for being THE preferred home of non-core elite, retired League members and security sensitive personnel. Fourth Heaven was a beautiful little slice of catch-all for more sensitive general manufacturing such as Avalon citizen exclusive medical and magical goods as well as Avalon citizen only entertainment.


    Fourth Heaven was also where Orison''s new home was. Rightfully, Liberty thought it would be best to place him close to where his alchemy tutor lived. The reason why Orison was happy about it had more to do with the fact that it was a happy compromise between all points of interest for him. It was also a far cry from the double bunk bed school campus rooms. If it wasn''t for a shortage of places with reinforced basement practice and lab rooms, and Liberty''s help, even Orison''s limited time B-class privilege wouldn''t have allowed for him to snag the four bedroom villa for any amount of merits.


    After a ride through the Heaven Connector subway and walking nearly a mile, Orison was finally in front of his villa. Upon walking in, the first thing he noticed wasn''t the accommodations themselves but the absolute chaotic tornado of mess littered from one end of the visible house to the other. It took nearly the rest of the time he had before Rio returned from classes to clean, finish assembly on furniture and sort things out within the house. When the teen walked in, the young mage was combing through his merit account to figure out the whole story of what took place during his extra week in intake.


    Peering around the house, Rio said, "You housekeeper service people really know how to go the extra step! I''m kinda surprised that you''re the same age as me but I don''t have any complaints... See you in a couple of days?... Uh, do I need to sign something or... You''re not housekeeping are you?"


    Orison gave Rio a saintly smile that fell short of the cold eyes above it. "Have a seat Rio. We have a few things to talk about."


    With a nervous chuckle, the teen said, "Oh, god! You know what? I forgot my, uh, thing on campus. I''ll be back later, okay..."


    Rio turned to run but Orison didn''t chase him, he only said. "When you''re done, swing by campus housing. Your things will meet you there."


    The teen swung around, looking baffled and hurt. "You''re kicking me out because of a little mess!?"


    "This is the big boy world, Rio. Stay and listen or do what you want and rely on yourself to handle it. Adults don''t spank each other and send someone to their room... Okay, some do but for reasons that have nothing to do with us," Orison said, trying to reign in his anger and lighten the mood a little.


    Predictably, Rio stayed. After a little investigation, it became obvious that the teen had very little idea about the merit economy. He also hadn''t put much thought into how hard life would be later with a huge debt hanging over his head once he was in the working world later. Orison was relieved to find out that once Rio understood, the teen seemed appropriately horrified that he had burned through a little over a year''s worth of average C-class income in a week.


    Looking for a way to shunt some guilt, Rio said, "Most of the stuff I got, you would have ended up getting anyway, right?"


    Orison flipped his hand a few times. "Furniture''s not really my style but what''s done is done. The UTF commercial satellite dish... Probably but it would have been later when I had more free time to enjoy it. Things like PREMIUM housekeeping and the ''different style a day'' meal delivery services, that''s a hard no. I definitely wouldn''t have spent 30,000 merits on the ''wardrobe for every occasion'' service but thanks for including me and at least saving a little on the ''extra person for a third of the merit'' deal."


    Rio painted on a chummy smile and said, "No problem. I was looking out for you too."


    Putting on the saintly smile again, Orison said, "So until those services run out, I''ll be making the selections... I didn''t really need a king sized bed but that''s alright... It seems that in all the confusion, you put your stuff in my master bedroom along with all the other, far more luxurious furnishings that you surely ordered for me. Don''t worry about it. Your stuff is piled on YOUR full size bed in YOUR room along with the second set of bedroom furniture and the pieces I couldn''t stand to have in mine."


    Rio''s chummy smile turned fairly watery towards the end. "Y-yeah. Thanks for the help.


    Orison beamed at Rio with compassionate understanding and added. "The somewhat questionable items and especially that brass pole you put in my room are all yours, by the way. And by that I mean, you''ll be the only person using them until three months after you''re seventeen. To expand on that, no girls in this house without me or another pre-approved person present until such a time... Just so we''re clear, what you do outside of this house is your business unless it costs me merits and then it WILL be mine."


    Rio''s ears burned but he was still brash enough to add, "Even my dad didn''t keep me from having a girlfriend over!"


    Orison sighed, "The place where you''re from, it wasn''t uncommon for a sixteen year old to join the workforce a little early to support himself and his knocked up girlfriend. For most people, there wouldn''t really be any big changes in what a person''s future would have been anyway but it''s different here. There are far more opportunities and it''s far too easy to lose them. Avalon is excruciatingly clear on the importance of personal responsibility and accountability. They won''t invest in an irresponsible person.


    "Look, you''re just shy of sixteen now. The dream of supernatural power and the knowledge of how to use it that was denied you before is at your fingertips. The very things that made you burn with envy and resentment at being left out are yours but you need to learn how to own that. Is a little over a year of respectable teenage living such a hard price to pay when the reward is so great?"


    Rio struggled internally for something to say in rebuttal only to lamely agree. "Yeah, sure... Wait, are YOU going to live a RESPECTABLE teenage life?"


    Orison replied blandly, "I''m going to be living a miserable ADULT''S life who just so happens to be attending school as well. One that comes with the financial responsibility of yours due to some poorly thought out wording... Judging by the state of things when I got here, they''re content with me being an acting guardian for you until evidence of the need for a real one is given. All to better snatch my merits.


    "Speaking of which, they gave you an initial 300,000 access to my account for you to set up house. That''s pretty much gone. I''ve set you up a weekly allowance of 1,000 and f***ing dare you to complain about it."


    After having a taste of big ''money'' lifestyle, Rio was glum but simply nodded.


    Before he moved on to brighter topics, Orison said, "I''m serious about this. I''m not going to argue with you. If you end up racking up some kind of big merit debt or sneak behind my back and use this house as a pimp pad because I''m busy with something for a couple of days, I will cut you loose to the dorms for awhile or even permanently if-"


    Orison stopped his speech because Rio dropped to the floor on his backside like someone had cut his strings. Instantly, Rio''s forehead shined from cold sweat and the teens eyes stared vacantly at nothing in particular, lost in some waking nightmare.

 156 Country of Champions 7

    Scanning Rio with spirit sight, the young mage couldn''t immediately find anything wrong. He was on the verge of calling for medical help when Rio started calming down and managed to get off the floor long enough to slump shakily onto the couch. He got the teen an orange cream soda and a small pack of cookies and waited for Rio to finish calming down.


    Orison asked worriedly, "What happened, there?"


    Not completely certain himself, Rio explained, "I... The way you said that, it reminded me of what the cop who found me at the lake said. You know, stuff about being sent to a dorm for awhile. After that, I''m not sure. It was like my mind stopped thinking right and my body remembered....you know, what it felt like to be so hungry and too weak to move... I mean, I guess I know what happened but I thought I was past all that. Everything was fine.


    "I didn''t have it as bad as some of the others, you know. I was just tied up outside for a couple of days without water and then starved for a couple of weeks. They wanted to put me into an induced delirium to see if my patron would manifest to me. I''m not really sure what that means but I don''t have one.


    "All that showed up was... Well I stole your wand and ring thing from the o-"


    Orison slowly removed the hand he''d quickly put up to Rio''s mouth and said, "Avalon respects personal freedom as long as a person''s responsible enough to handle it but I don''t know how much they respect privacy. I know where YOUR wand and ring came from."


    The young mage pulled them from his personal space while he looked like he was digging in his shoulder pack. He handed them to the teen and watched silently for a moment so that Rio could get his emotions back under control. The boy had picked up a few habits from Neil and wasn''t the kind to feel better after crying.


    He was starting to get a clearer picture of Rio. The more the teen clowned around, the more he was hurting. The more egotistical he was acting, the smaller and more vulnerable he was feeling. Such a person preferred to grieve alone and needed more carefully provided emotional support than most to keep from bruising their pride.


    Once Rio was recovered and back under control, Orison used the retinal scanner to open the basement. One half of the basement was a magic and combat practice room, the other half was divided into three; the first of the three rooms was a practice equipment storage and meditation room, the middle was an office with a safe, the last was an alchemy lab. The office was still furnished as if it had been forgotten during the clean out.


    They both looked at each other and Rio said, "Do you think there''s still stuff in the safe?"


    Orison responded, "No. But if you promise me not to use it for something stupid, I''ll show you how to use the third ring of the wand. It''s got an unlock spell carved in there."


    The young mage sighed, "I feel myself getting dumber doing this. I''m serious, Rio. You use this to steal and I''ll be the one to break your wand."


    "When dad talked about you, he said you could become a hard a** over the weirdest things sometimes. I''m no thief. Well, I know I- they were yours to begin with. They stole them first!" Rio protested.


    Arching a thin, still growing in eyebrow, Orison said, "Did you forget how I got stuck with you?"


    "Hey. Dad wasn''t even going to go. Why should I care what was written in a letter that was over twenty years old? Oh...Well, in hindsight it''s clear but... What happened to that gem any way? It''s got to be worth at least, what, three to 400,000 merits? Ahh!" Rio''s snark cut off when the palm of his left hand radiated pain for a short moment.


    Orison smirked. "Add a couple zeros or better yet, call it priceless. It''s one of a kind... By the way, it looks like you do have a patron. And no, that is not a safe topic to discuss... maybe after we have some assured privacy... So fill the ring with essence and tap the butt of the wand to it three times."


    Rio started looking pale. "Mind telling my patron to be a little less stingy? I can''t even fill it."


    The young mage checked the ring. "Damn. Yeah, it''s reserve is quite a bit deeper than it used to be. There''s enough juice in it... How much can you hold? Ugh, I can barely remember when my reserve was that poor. Ah, right after I just got back from having my soul shredded but before I made the year''s worth of magic and physical training wish. Man, that almost killed me again!"


    Rio rolled his eyes and did as instructed. It took two more tries and an explanation from Orison on the layout of the pins before Rio got the safe open. It was empty but with the young mage''s spirit sight still turned up fairly high, he caught a faint glimmer of something. Focusing harder, he noticed it was a swipe of old blood only recognizable from the ghostly wisp of essence left behind from multiple times of use.


    Out of morbid curiosity, the young mage drew the golden ratio shell pattern. After a good quarter of his available reserve was drawn out, the magic essence darted from the pattern to a hidden magic circle in the alchemy room. With a warning to Rio to either stay close behind him or go upstairs, Orison took a moment to carefully take off the outfit he was wearing and activated his teaser suit.


    Rio had a strange look on his face that turned to surprise. "Oh, so that''s what you were doing. Does that thing shred what your wearing?"


    "Like confetti," Orison said blandly.


    Rio took a second to get his shoes back on while the young mage looked at him in slight confusion. "When you said stick close, I kind of figured that you meant do what you were doing. But when you went full ''locker room'', I figured I''d wait and see if you actually needed me to."


    "Not a bad train of thought but I''ll be as clear as I can when time permits. This isn''t one. I need to study this circle for a second... Okay, it''s a teleport glyph but it doesn''t go far. Stay here and report this if I''m not back in a half hour." Orison said as he stepped in.


    Rio jumped in at the last second.


    Once they had appeared on the other side and Orison saw that the forested area wasn''t dangerous, he turned to Rio and said angrily, "What part of ''stay here'' was too difficult to understand!?"


    Rio gave him a sour face and said, "If I listened to everything you said, I''d still be trapped on a dying world. Are you going to pretend this isn''t a ''risk versus reward'' kind of thing? I''ll take my chances."


    Orison looked at the teen for a moment and then said, "This and that are different but I can see your point. Just remember that we might reach a point where it''s too much risk with no reward... When that time comes, hope I''m strong enough to save us both and that I still care enough after you outright didn''t listen."


    He took out the over robe and handed it to Rio. "I''ll want that back later."


    The teen checked out the silky robe. "No problem. I''m not going to try to keep a lady''s night gown no matter how cool it looks."


    The young mage looked at the sky. "Lawd, forgive me for what I''ll do if he jumps on my last nerve one more time."


    When he looked back towards Rio, the boy was gone and the over robe was laying on the ground. Snatching it up and throwing it on, Orison cranked up his spirit sight to max input and scanned around silently for the teen and saw no signs of life besides plants and bugs.


    Mind on hyper drive, Orison thought, "Alright. First thing''s first. Illusion stress test time. I''ll be damned if another silk purse ''twilight zone'' episode ever happens to me again."


    Donning the ruby ring, he popped the main gem''s ritual circle effect. The young mage had just enough time to make a sudden realization about the spiral-like inner formation at Rose Cliff, the layout of the Seven Heavens of Avalon and the golden ratio shell in the safe. He discovered that they lined up in an eerily similar way to the invocation portion of his new focus'' circle. The split second after he made that connection, the ground underneath him ceased to be.


    Layer upon layer of crazy landscapes, he kept falling through them until a floor came rushing up to greet him. At the last moment, Orison pulled off the strongest telekinetic spell he could to soften his fall. It was barely enough to avoid shattered ankles and knees with the combination of a well timed roll and his teaser suit.


    Standing up, he looked around until he saw a dim light and followed it. Soon enough, he was standing in front of a blond lady in a stylish but definitively masculine business suit. She was sitting at a cheap folding card table with a tumbler glass of whiskey and a pungent cigar, playing solitaire.


    "You gonna have a seat, boy, or are ya gonna stand there lookin all awkward?" the lady said with a voice as low and husky as a woman''s voice could be and still sound feminine.


    Warily, Orison said, "That depends. Is Rio alright?"


    She chuckled humorlessly. "If that child can''t climb down all those holes you just punched through all the Camdis will shard tests without somebody holdin his hand...Sweet mercy, he hopeless."


    He went to ask more questions but she cut him off. "Boy we ain''t got all that much time to be yakkin. He''ll be sittin as pretty as you please widda prize he didn''t even earn proper like, soon enough. Nuttin worse than a couple a tired arms to show he at least did somethin."


    Orison sat down across from her and said, "Well, you''re the one who claims we don''t have much time. What do you have to say?"


    She smirked, "Here in a hot city minute, you gotta important decision ta make. You can sit here wit me, whittle away a little time and yo boy, he get put on the fast track for core membership to da League. If ya do dat, you get put in da Rowdies program an you get to meet up wit ya boys Stag an Gan sumthin or rather, quick like.


    "Othawise, you can go stop that kid from gettin the shard, report it, an you get fast tracked for core league but yo boys will flap in tha breeze long enough for somethin to happen to dem. It ain''t all bad but it a sho far cry from happy days. I tried to drum up a third one but the shard will blow itself up to keep YOU from getting it. Knockin the kid out and pretendin none a dis happened ain''t an option neither."


    Orison said, "What about Ivan?"


    She sighed out a belly full of frustration. "Oh, he dead, sugar. Well, he didn''t stay that way but the lady he work fo now waddn''t interested in no trades. Noxflora, you heard a her? I sho haven''t. Not til recently anyhow. All the knots her an dat Zeke dude made on tha way up an out got me burnin through my liquor and my free time tryin a fix it all without getting in knots myself."


    Schooling his expressions to keep from giving anything away, he said. "So what''s the Rowdies?"


    She smiled. "Fastest way to get up an out yo self or dead tryin. Dey da forward scouts an camp guards of the extra planar response teams. It ain''t no punishment mind ya. Dey get da bes of da bes. If one of dem rips starts spillin demons or devils, a piece of angel a** ain''t even out of da question. You know, if ya jus need a little taste of heaven to know you appreciated.


    "Decision time. Jacques and his planar rip spot team caught da blip dis place made. What''s it gonna be, sugar?"


    Orison tapped the card table once, definitively with his index finger. "What I don''t understand, is you or your place in all of this."


    With a flourish, there was a glass in front of Orison and she poured them both a shot. "I''m da token ''neutral'' in upper management. Let''s jus say, when it come to keepin people around and makin babies, both da birds and da bats are on da same page."


    He accepted her informal toast and drank his glass. It went down like liquid ice and turned into a volcano in his stomach. It was an experience that rode the line between unpleasant and enjoyable,even with his enhanced form. The young mage didn''t want to imagine how much a normal person would suffer trying to drink whatever it was she had offered him.


    She smirked. "First bite of the ol ''Ice and Fire'' is somethin to remember... What do you think da low dimensions are exactly, boy?"


    Orison shrugged. "Nonsense, chaos cobbled into barely functioning form. For the most part, I think that they''re collections of communal imagination from the mid or high dimensions that take on enough substance to be considered real. Over all, I think the low dimensions are a bubbling cauldron of possible realities that make it to become a recognized and fully developed one once in a blue moon... Something like that?"


    She said, "Dey figments. Some are like you say but others are da dreams of gods, the lingering memories in da bodies of dead ones. Many more defy definition of any kind. Fo da sake of moral ease, the only things considered real are what came from up higher and souls. Dat''s it.


    "I don''t feel dat way. You don''t gotta feel dat way but until somethin crosses the line it ain''t got da same rights. An you can bes believe dat there are people who come down here actin all atrocious an feel like dat''s jus fine. An I ain''t jus talkin bout da demons an devils. Da Celetial Host can be a bunch a dirty b******ds down here too. Dey jus nicer about it."


    Orison nodded. "Alright, Ms. Neutral. What''s the real story here? What war''s being waged on this world?"


    She chuckled and poured them another shot. "We both got true names so I hope you don''t mind but ''Ms. Neutral'' ain''t somethin nice to da ears. You can call me Sammy. An you don''t gotta be so careful about tellin people yo name. Jus don''t go around sharin yo true name, Orison."


    She reached over and tapped him on the chest, sending his consciousness deep into his soul where he saw a pattern that his intuition recognized as a symbol of itself. It made Orison think of the contract that Ignatius had drawn up in the illusion. No matter who a person was or what language they spoke, the meaning would be clear. And if it was seen, it could be read.


    What he didn''t quite get is how it could be said but he didn''t want to think about that too much. He had a good idea that it wouldn''t take him long to figure out how but it would be better for him not to know. It would be harder to trick out of him that way.


    Shaking himself out of the induced trance, the young mage said, "Thanks, I guess. So, Sammy, the real story?"


    While he nursed the drink, she said, "If ya wanna call it a war, it''s a war of agreements and trying to find ways around dem. At the end of da day, it''s a recruitment drive. Celestial Host got da League, Infernal Host got da UTF and da Abyssal Host got da independents dangled in front of dem fo bait. Each got their own slice dat way but dey eyeball each other''s all da damn time.


    "If ya look close, you can see how dey do it. Devils be temptin Rowdies and Irregulars away here an there. Angels be usin the law to snatch up childrens and independents fo Avalon. An hell, I ain''t never seen a demon follow a damn rule in my life dey ain''t forced to. Not dat dey even hafta try dat hard. Fools an hot heads be lining up everyday to dance into da lion''s den.


    "Member dis, don''t take the captain promotion if ya make it dat far. You out there to get stronger, not to become some angel''s b*tch boy. Try not to take too long to handle bidness. You come up fo captain a couple of times dey start getting suspicious if you turn it down twice. Den, you gotta worry about getting tripped up. Like I said, even the Celestial Host can be dirty b******ds down here. Dey jus nicer about it."


    She poured Orison one more double and did the same for her glass and handed it to him. "Hand dat one there to Jacques. Tell him I got my tongue all up in it fo him."


    Orison''s mind wondered for a moment as his conduit suddenly flared with brilliance in his space. He still couldn''t peer through the astral fog of where it rested to recuperate but he could see three lesser glows near it in white, green and red hues. When his concentration focused back on the world around him, she was gone and he had bigger issues to deal with.

 157 Country of Champions 8

    No longer in a dim spot with a cheap folding card table, the young mage could see that they were back in the basement alchemy room. The circle in the floor was dimming and fading out as Rio slumped, sleeping where the circle touched the wall. In spirit sight, the teen was absorbing a sliver of translucent material that flashed a variety of nature scenes.


    With a flash bright enough for mortal eyes to see, the last bit of the shard merged with Rio''s body and soul as another minor flare came from the place where Orison''s conduit rested on his plane. He had a moment of almost angry envy as he noticed that the teen was nearly as ''real'' as himself but then checked to see that he was a little more ''real'' than he had been. It seemed that the boy could only absorb so much and the spillover that would have endangered Rio''s life had been taken by the keystone.


    He had no way of knowing exactly but the Camdis will shard must have had a lot of juice in it. He was almost certain that by all that was spread around between the boy, himself and his conduit, it would be generous to say Rio kept even a quarter of the total. To be fair, that''s all the teen could hold safely. In Orison''s spirit sight, Rio''s soul appeared bloated and strained while the teen''s physical internals looked a touch unstable. Of course, he also got the feeling that if it hadn''t been for his conduit, the shard would have only passively poured itself into the boy, naturally coming to a stop when there was resistance.


    Any further thoughts on it were stored away as the young mage heard the sound of Jacques ordering some people upstairs to stay put while he walked down the opened door to the basement. Orison quickly dragged Rio to the meditation room and laid him out on the large floor cushion while juggling the glasses of liquor in one hand. He barely had time to activate the essence drawing circle under the cushion before Dr. Odd''s apprentice appeared in the meditation room''s doorway, Orison held out a crystalline tumbler.


    With the brightest, most innocent smile he could summon, Orison said, "Sammy told me to give this to you and tell you ''I got my tongue all up in it fo ya''."


    When Jacques walked over and reached out for the glass, in a movement that he was barely able to follow, the man grabbed Orison''s glass and downed that one instead. "That one as they say, is all for you, little buddy."


    Speechless, Orison looked down at the remaining glass to find that it didn''t have a lip mark aside from his own and drank it down before wheezing out, "I''m sorry. In all the confusion, I think I switched the glasses?"


    Jacques looked at the glass in his hand and let off a bitter smile. "What is a little fallen angel spit for a glass of Ice and Fire?"


    Surprised, the young mage said, "Fallen? She said she was neutral."


    Orison shrugged, "I''m glad you''re here. I was in the middle of investigating a transport glyph when she showed up talking about choices. I mean, I don''t doubt her wisdom or anything but me and Rio being in the core league member acceleration program!? I''m definitely for Rowdies if anything. And Rio, in core? The boy bought a damn stripper pole for his bedroom before I could get out of intake and stop him. Now he''s passed out, essence drunk inside a gathering circle. No wonder she was smiling when she brought it up."


    Seeing the bitter look on Jacques'' face deepen, Orison added, "He''s of a special descent and that gives him some advantages but he needs to capture a demon to seal into a familiar pact. Now don''t get me wrong. His ancestors were all about fighting fire with fire. He can handle it. His lineage evolved to handle it. It just seems like a PR nightmare to have a demon wielding, harassment lawsuit waiting to happen as a core when he''s obviously built by nature to be a Rowdy."


    As Jacques drew up some kind of spell over Rio, Orison redirected the man''s attention by saying, "Take a look at that cavity just behind his spiritual seat."


    The man was instantly infatuated. After giving little more than a cursory glance elsewhere, he studied the nature given spirit trap that resided there. In his curiosity, the man missed what a little more detailed observation would have showed him about Rio''s situation, spell expiring around the time he finished sating it.


    "Now, I know that core isn''t supposed to dig into the secrets of mystic bloodlines and inheritances. Nearly a third of the League''s members would go ballistic but I felt like we can trust you and we need to apply for secrecy protection to train him anyway," Orison inserted craftily to kill three birds with one stone.


    He didn''t want the man magically scanning Rio a second time and figuring out the kid got a hold of some kind of supernatural goodies. He wanted a good reason for denying other people the ability to without better cause than light suspicion. And best of all, Orison wanted a reason to have anything stronger that mandatory essence scan surveillance of any kind banned from the basement.


    Caught red-handed doing just that, Jacques'' ears glowed a little as he said, "Oh... Yes, of course. I''ll expedite it. So, about this ''transport glyph''?"


    Orison pointed out the safe and the circle in the alchemy room. After studying it for a moment, Jacques brought in another man in full ''space and battle ready'' gear. Dr. Odd''s apprentice activated the glyph and the suited man faded for only a brief moment, spilling the last remaining wisps of the deflated pocket dimension that once held the Camdis will shard. Another man came rushing down from upstairs with a portable device of some kind before a disappointed Jacques told them to stand down.


    "Damn. It was a remnant piece of the Camdis will shards some elite smuggled back. I heard Dr. Odd talk about it a couple of times. He was little more than a kid back then but it was supposed to be one hell of a, how you say, cluster f***. Placed in the alchemy room like that, he maybe used it up making potions and such? What a waste." Jacques said, a little heartbroken.


    Seeing the wisps heading towards the essence gathering circle in the meditation room, the man with the equipment bent down to quickly deactivate it. When he brought out another piece of equipment to draw it up, Orison said, "Excuse me? Um, who''s going to pay the merits for this forceful acquisition of resources?"


    The man looked pole axed.


    Gruffly, equipment guy said to Jacques, "Are we not supposed to be taking planar remnants as a default?"


    Jacques said, "It''s essence. It might be special but if we pulled that kind of card on something like this... Orison, you let us take this and we''ll give you-"


    The young mage interrupted. "Sixty units of magic essence daily to our grid for six months."


    Dr. Odd''s apprentice said, "Robbery. There can''t be more than a thousand units here. Thirty for three months."


    "Fifty for six. I''d guess there''s a little over 2000. If you''re not going to condense it to use as a core for an artifact, you''re wasting it. Can you do that with the essence in the grid? Take it or leave it. I''m hoping you leave it," Orison said, stone faced.


    Jacques suddenly smiled wickedly, "I''m taking it as payment for your apprentice fees. Congratulations, you''re in the Rowdies Accelerator Program. I hope you enjoyed your Fire and Ice toast."


    Orison''s eyes widened, "You..."


    Jacques chuckled. "Speechless? I know. It''s quite an honor."


    As the man finished collecting the remaining wisps of rich, law laced essence shed from the Camdis will shard, Orison said, "It IS quite an honor to be sworn in as YOUR apprentice in front of witnesses, Certified Mystics Instructor le Strange. I mean, it''s not like you could accept my apprenticeship as a proxy for someone else without even saying a word to them or fraudulently claim an apprentice fee on their behalf with the intent on paying them in merits. That would be.... unlawful and the League is a completely lawful organization, after all."


    Turning to the equipment man as Jacques spluttered, Orison asked. "Do you know what the unit allotment is for an accelerator student and apprentice of a truimverate adjunct combined is?"


    The man said, "I, uh, accelerator is twenty free and core apprentice is twenty daily paid out of the apprenticeship fee... Oh, there''s a base ten provided by your accelerator sponsor."


    Jacques looked like he lost his soul as he muttered, "Thirty units out of pocket... for two years."


    Orison sneered. "Don''t be so melodramatic. As long as you take your responsibilities with me even half seriously, it won''t be nearly that long."


    Suddenly sobering up from his stupor, Jacques said, "Y-yes. That''s right. I''m going to work you like a dog. If you don''t shape up fast, I''ll- what do they say? Your a** will be grass and I will be the lawnmower!"


    Orison gave a saintly smile. "It''s been quite some time since you''ve been in the field, pencil pusher. In front of these men here, men who risk their lives to keep Avalon safe, are you going to set a bad example of not showing me how it''s done? You''re not going to stand on the sidelines and bark orders like an over-the-hill P.E. teacher are you? That would be shameful."


    Under the slight intoxication of the Fire and Ice that even Orison''s special physique couldn''t completely shake off in a couple of minutes, Jacques noticed two black visored helmets stare holes through him.


    Red faced, imagining who knows what kind of expressions they had, Jacques said, "Better eat the breakfast of champions... you boy. I have your numbers. Better grow all the grass on the field before you try to play ball with a grown man!"


    The more soldierly of the two men that had come with Dr. Odd''s apprentice sounded like he suddenly choked on his own cough and said, "Sir, that''s... not how that phrase is used. It''s probably best that you don''t use it at all."


    Jacques looked at the man blankly for a moment and said, "Explain to me what I don''t understand in the transport."


    Seeing that they were getting ready to leave Orison said, "Wait. Your guy didn''t get it all."


    There was a little that seeped into him and his own essence avoided it like it was structure poison. Pushing it out, he also used his aura pressure to squeeze a bit of the excess of the strange essence from Rio. Seeing the collection device blinking sluggishly again, the equipment guy switched it back on.


    The soldierly guy was staring at the young mage, doubtlessly wondering what was up. Jacques was too wrapped up in the pleasant surprise of collecting more of what his Pyrrhic victory earned him. Using what little time that had bought him, the young mage thought hard.


    Trying to keep the Cheshire grin off his face, Orison said to the equipment guy, "Hey, a thousand merits to tell me anything interesting it might be hard to find out about perks or privileges that come with being in the acceleration program or the apprentice of a high ranking core member."


    Sadly, the man undid his helmet and looked at Jacques. Obviously, Dr. Odd''s apprentice was glaring at the man for all he was worth. The man started low, saying stuff that Orison could guess without even asking but Orison joked around with him and got him to loosen up while lowering Jacques'' guard a little.


    "How about old ones that no one uses anymore because it''s too difficult or just not really worth while. Come on, I know the boss man''s right there but there''s gotta be something that''ll make him sweat but won''t come to anything. It''s mostly just for fun anyway," Orison said with an innocent smile.


    Oddly enough, it was the more soldierly looking guy who said, "Oh, I remember one. Back when things were rough and it was like planar rifts were opening every other day, people on the accelerator program could pick out one or two debtors from the Irregulars to train with them. That way, graduates could hit the ground running with a team that had trained together."


    Jacques looked at the man like the soldierly guy had lost his mind, telling Orison about it.


    Backpedaling hard, the man said, "But... You had to pay off half their debt and they have to agree. Now, most of the debts are expensive and it''s almost a guarantee that they''ll be older, not that well trained or not that useful. Back then, it made sense but what kid in their right mind would shell out good merits for someone who probably won''t take them seriously or be reliable.


    "People don''t get those kind of debts by being responsible and they don''t usually have a problem working out some way to repay them without being useless. Besides, it might be your right and choice but the system''s set up for your trainer to vet them and they have to pay half of that half. YOU can only see the debtor''s name, age and general class when you''re looking.


    "So without your instructor digging out things like pictures and personal information, you might see a young woman but it''s not like she''ll be some kind of beauty if she ended up in the Irregulars. Even if she is, she''s probably a psycho or something. Hey, come on. Why are you messing around with the touch screen? You hear what I''m saying?"


    Orison''s instincts were tingling and he could swear he smelled the scent of an expensive cigar tickling his nose. His first thought was that if anyone was going to get into some kind of serious mess, it would be Stag. Unless the Nunos man was using a different name, he wasn''t on the Irregulars list, however. With a building sense of dreadful understanding, the young mage looked up Gan''s name and sure enough, the man was there.


    The young mage turned around smiling and said, "So the Irregulars are like high risk duties to pay back debts to the system and to society if it''s crimes? A bit of a nasty system but I get it... This one here. I want him. Isn''t that the weirdest name? Sounds like a viking or something."


    Already looking a little faint, Jacques said, "You''re just going to randomly choose someone because their name sounds weird!? You do know that you have to match what I pay on this, right?... I tell you, I''ll look, just this once if you promise to not do it again."


    Orison struggled to keep his face looking casual as he said, "I promise that if you look him up and I don''t choose him, I won''t do it again but if I do, I reserve the right to do it again if I feel there''s a good reason to."


    Taking it more as a joke than serious, Dr. Odd''s apprentice walked over to the touch screen and accessed it with his clearance. "You do know that you are responsible for everything outside of basic needs, right? You''re even responsible for their misconduct, up to a certain point. This isn''t anything more than a merit grab for scaredy cats who want a security blanket."


    Jacques started laughing. "He owes 15,000,000 merits! Back when he was taken in over a year ago, he owed 30,000,000. He got 10,000,000 shaved off because he died! Another 4,000,000 was taken off for some kind of wrongful abandonment clause some lieutenant probably tacked on for pity because his body was lost for four months. Even the last million was only the default yearly write off.


    "He died on his first real assignment without earning a single extra merit. If it wasn''t for some wandering phoenix lady who found him and took pity, that would have been the end of his story. Are you going to waste 7,500,000 on a man, who only seems good at making other people feel sorry for him?"


    It took all he had not to ruin everything by punching Jacques in his laughing face. Orison knew it wasn''t personal but more of a knee jerk reaction to the absurdity of the even remote possibility that the young mage would agree.


    Feigning shocked but innocent surprise, he said, "What did the guy do? If he was a real criminal, he wouldn''t be on the list. How in the world does he owe so much?"


    Jacques started off joking but turned a little pale and sweaty. "With his bad luck, he probably brought an open bucket of paint into a Sky Hook teleporter room or something... He... You don''t really need to hear this. It''s just some random person''s bad luck, right? It''s not like you''re going to choose him just to be stubborn or something."


    Unable to completely hold it in anymore, a dark storm started building on the young mage''s face, "The fact that you don''t want to tell me makes me wonder if I should just go ahead and do it."


    Frowning himself, Dr. Odd''s apprentice said, "I think you''re taking this farce a little too far... Fine. When he was brought in by the UTF, they put him in a dorm thinking he was the age he looked like. His artifact ate a reserve tester. Being a ''walk in'', a person who stumbled here from some other world, he was handed over to Avalon with as much of the debt to replace it as they legally could."


    Orison plainly said, "I choose him."

 158 Country of Champions 9

    Jacques said, "Now wait some cotton picking minutes! You''re not thinking clearly on this. He doesn''t even have the artifact anymore. He says he lost it right before the UTF handed him over. He''s not some hero for accidentally destroying a device you were a victim of."


    The equipment guy wanted to say something about the awful use of the colloquialism but thought better of it.


    The young mage railed. "No. I couldn''t be any clearer. Have you thought about it at all? Why you were laughing, did you think about how it would feel to find yourself in some strange place, separated from all you know?


    "Did you think about how you would feel if just because your artifact defended you from something chewing your life away, you were pressed into a possible thirty years of facing deadly threats. How about what you would be feeling if you already died once and by some fluke coincidence, practically a miracle, you were brought back. Oh, but let''s not forget you''re still facing down another possible fifteen years when you hadn''t even survived your first."


    Jacques'' face softened some as he said, "I can respect that you have a heart that''s in the right place, Orison, but this isn''t-"


    Fighting down a little edge of panic, the young mage knew that this new instructor of his wasn''t going to bend at all. "I''ll pay it. I''ll pay it all. Just get him out of whatever hell hole he''s shoved in and bring him here."


    "Forget about Rio over there. How are you going to pay for it all and still be able to prove capable of supporting yourself and your new subordinate?" Dr. Odd''s apprentice said, trying to project calmness and assert reason.


    Orison said, "I can draw a temporary debt maximum of 2,000,000. Then I''ll shuffle a few things around. I won''t lose much and we''ll just have to live frugally until I can secure some more resources."


    Getting agitated again, Jacques said, "You think it''s that easy? A 2,000,000 debt is only a single million away from being an Irregular yourself. When you''re that far in the hole, it''s a lot easier to get there too."


    The young mage said, "I''m not some idiot who thinks he can save the whole world. I''m also not some simpering b*tch hiding in a whitewashed tower thinking positive thoughts alone makes me a good person while there''s a beggar dying on my front porch. I''m willing to get my hands a little dirty and put my merits where my mouth is when I see a wrong that I want to right and have the ability to."


    Jacques laughed angrily. "So after you save that first beggar, what about the five who will be dying on your front porch the next day? Will you save them too? How about the twenty after that?"


    Orison said blandly, "F*** that. I already saved my beggar. It''s someone else''s turn. When there''s enough to go around, I''ll share but I''m not a saint."


    Orison sneered. " And if my rotten piece of wood turns out to be a diamond in the rough, don''t you dare try to take an ounce of credit for it or you won''t be able to hold your head up in Avalon for the rest of your natural life. It''s already going to be hard enough when everyone finds out your student has more heart than you... and can beat you in a foot race, chicken legs."


    LeStrange took a steadying breath and said, "First of all, I may accept your little back door way of roping me into apprenticeship because I was somewhat tempted to do it anyway but we''re not close and we certainly aren''t friends. Call my legs chicken again and I''ll break one off in YOUR back door. Then we''ll see how small you think they are.


    "If you want to walk a tightrope over this passion project to save this... unfortunate, that''s on you. I would''ve done everything in my power to keep you from wasting my merits on it but feel free to dump yours into whatever bottomless hole you want to. I wasted what little damns I gave about you trying to talk your ignorant a** out of doing this. So don''t expect any guilt or sympathy from me. In truth, now I look forward to you messing up so I can wash my hands of you."


    Pulling up the shreds of his dignity, Jacques walked out with his hawk nose just shy of being upturned high enough to be cartoonish.


    Seeing that the two geared up guys were taking off without a word too, Orison said, "Hold up. I believe I owe you two a thousand merits. Don''t take our talk too seriously. I''m not going to be missing out on anything by tossing a little drinking funds your way. After this crap, you deserve it."


    After a polite but rather insincere refusal, Orison gave them a some merits and in the process learned some names he could use later.


    Turner, the brawny soldier guy of the two said, "Don''t take Frenchie out there to be all silk boxers and no bite or he''s going to make you suffer."


    Roy, the equipment specialist said, "You ruffled his feathers hard. Best find a way to unruffle them. Underneath all that bluster is a good guy but he''s got pride for miles and he''s a bit of a tightwad. He''s a little lazy and a bit of a slob-


    "Roy! The recording devices are still on in here," Turner warned.


    "No they''re not," Roy smirked and then said to Orison, "You''re welcome. If you need to let off some cursing, you might want to do it down here from now on."


    Orison thanked them both and said, "Once I get my finances straightened back out again, I''ll treat you guys properly."


    As they were walking out, Turner added, "Look at this kid taking a 2,000,000 debt lightly. Listen up, Orison was it? You get too many, they try to bleed your merits away. They get you buried, the system''s more likely to keep you there."


    Once they were gone and the doors were closed, the young mage helped Rio to circulate sluggish channels in an effort to get the boy up faster.


    As Rio started coming to, he mumbled, "No, dad. I didn''t get in your drink cabinet. It... was friend''s bike n stripping to paint... Fumes."


    When the teen''s eyes focused and his brain caught up with reality, for a brief moment, Orison saw a kind of desolate loneliness flicker across the teen''s face before it was quickly hidden away.


    In a chipper voice, Rio said, "Hey, that thing with your eyes is pretty cool. Were you born like that?"


    In confusion, Orison said, "Born like what?"


    "There''s like blue and green kinda spilled across each other in there," the teen said.


    Orison nodded. "It''s heterochromia. Most of the time, it can''t be seen that well because I have my spirit sight on."


    While Rio finished focusing back in, the young mage filled him in on everything that he thought the boy should know. He especially emphasized how their merit situation would be like for a little while.


    Latching on to what mattered to him, Rio said, "Does this mean that I won''t have that allowance?"


    The young mage started laughing. "No, you''re good. Just don''t pop any costly surprises on me or things could get dicey."


    To himself, the young mage thought, "I just need to figure out how far I can trust Liberty and not mess up the goodwill I''ve built with her."


    He finished up by breaking some news about luxuries that would be temporarily suspended and said to the teen, "I''m sure you''ve realized just how dangerous being caught with a slight advantage someone else can rob from you is. Keep your best stuff a secret and always hold a little back unless your life''s on the line. Make no mistake, that focus set I gave you might be crumby looking but it holds a few decently valuable secrets. Until you''ve mastered what it holds for yourself, don''t risk losing them. And what happened here today, it didn''t happen."


    The teen nodded with a serious and decisive look, replying, "You''re not mad about it, are you? Those holes... you made them, right?"


    Orison sighed. "Some things aren''t meant for you. This wasn''t an opportunity that was mine. At least not directly. There''s nothing to be mad about."


    Looking a little unsure, the teen said, "I don''t know if I''ll ever get the chance but if I do, I''ll make it up to you."


    The young mage chuckled. "The biggest help would be if you can at least pretend to not be a trouble maker for a little while."


    "Yeah, I can do that for ''a little while''. Maybe I can start making it up to you by finding someone to help you deal with that puffy ball of fluff on top of your head. In a week, will I be able to make a wish and blow it off?" the teen said with a mischievous smirk.


    Orison gave him a saintly smile. "Oh, you got jokes? Lets take this to the gym upstairs and see how long you can pace me before a limb falls off."


    "I''ll have you know. I earned my letters for wrestling, track and swimming. Good luck with that, dandelion," Rio smirked.


    He wasn''t smirking two hours later and he was trying hard not to amble around the house like an old man the next day. Taking some pity, Orison ran a little healing over the kid before Rio shoved off to school. It was a place the young mage had another acclamation day before he''d be attending himself.


    As much as he wanted to relax and enjoy his last day before being saddled with unpleasant remedial learning and redundant training, he needed to make the most of his time. After exchanging a few text messages with Liberty to set up a meeting a little over a week away when their free time would next line up, Orison started flipping and cutting some fringe budget. After an hour, he was finished and rubbing an annoyance wrinkle out of his forehead.


    He thought, "So that''s what Justice meant. I finally saw some of the ugliness behind all the glitter of this merit system. C-Class 25% yearly tax for savings over 10,000,000 and matching interest for debts every three months. Thank goodness I''m a provisional B. I only have 10% to worry about. Hopefully, I won''t have to worry about it at all."


    While he waited to hear back on estimated times after clearing the merit bill on Gan''s delivery, Orison received the go-ahead to visit his alchemist tutor a little early. She was a sweet old lady but her scheduled exercises were so basic that it scared the young mage to consider how long it would take before he could log some lucrative ones. He spent the rest of the midday and afternoon displaying his level of expertise only to find out that there were some fine differences that tripped him up right past the magic concoction line.


    It irked him that his material resource upgrade package was actually overpriced much like everything dealing with students. Tacking on his tutor''s cut of anything she approved for sales and he would be lucky if he was doing little better than breaking even before he spent his first month with her. He shuddered to think about the trials of average students.


    He briefly revisited the idea of picking up enchanting certification but if the system''s inhibitions on alchemists outside of the League''s production line were scary, enchanter''s restrictions and fees were outright terrifying. Those were the bad sides of the system, though. The good sides weren''t shabby either.


    As much as it discouraged hoarding of wealth and resources, as much as it punished the accumulation of debt, it really did insure that people had what they needed. Poverty was associated with laziness and irresponsible behavior in any society but it was actually fairly true in Avalon. Even the disabled and disadvantaged where given far more access to resources in attempts to find meaningful and satisfying ways to be not only productive but appreciated.


    There were flaws and some of them were obvious but they were ones any society had and not easily addressed without fighting the very nature of humanity or any other kind of group minded higher life form. Effort could be seen and that counted for something in Orison''s eyes. That counted for the way Avalon addressed the darker elements of society as well. Prostitution, gambling and recreational drugs were illegal but there were avenues that they could be accessed in more publicly acceptable ways and most funneled people right into the Irregulars if they did more than danced at the edges of indulgence.


    "Come on, Orison. Why are you getting so distracted over a little setback. What good is years of comfortable contingency anyway? Focus on the now for a little bit and be happy you''re going to see your best friend after all this time," the young mage thought, shaking himself out of all his mental wandering.


    On his walk back home, he received a message on his personal portable touch screen, he''d set up that morning. Gan''s station was on some kind of portal rotation that would delay return to Avalon for a couple of weeks. He WAS relieved from active assignment and relegated to camp duties until that time came.


    Processing that bit of dim news, the young mage flopped on the couch and saw Rio as glum as he''d ever seen the teen. "Okay. What''s got your normally chipper mood on the chopping block today?"


    Rio said, ??My acceptance to the Rowdies accelerator program was announced today. They have some kind of bench rule for the bottom ten. Anyone on that reserve list can challenge anyone not and swap them spots. I mean... not even a single day on active and someone on their last month of bench just swooped in and snatched my seat away. Now I''m on the reserve list without so much as talking to a personal trainer.


    "I have three months to beat someone with a seat or I lose my accelerator program status. All the while, I only have the general trainers and equipment while the active seats are getting supplements and one on one instruction. I was challenged back to back! If I won the second, there would have been a third possible!"


    Orison said, "What are the rules on this challenge system? Avalon doesn''t do dumb. That bottom ten is a way to motivate the rest and give a little humbling to beginners but what''s with this back to back challenging?"


    Rio laid out what he understood. To the young mage, it sounded like the program heavily favored mutants and magic augment. Small exceptions for healing magic were included but the first three months of a person''s time in the program were centered on unassisted physical combat only. As unfair as that sounded to pure magic users, there wasn''t an easy fix. Physical prowess would only grow more disparaging with time but it had to have its place in the evaluation process.


    Then it dawned on Orison. The challenge system was a mage''s best friend, not enemy. Strategy was a part of combat prowess and a mage that wasn''t strong or cunning had no place so close to front line action anyway. He explained as much to Rio. He also had no doubts that there was some kind of safety net for people with exceptional talents the Rowdies wanted.


    To help give Rio a leg up while he finished working out the alchemy changes, Orison had the teen drop the degree shift application study on the wand and immediately start on the healing application. The young mage explained that he understood degree shift was easier that''s why it was okay to save for later. Healing was hard but the wand was a cheat sheet and with Orison''s help on a daily basis for a little time, it wasn''t impossible for the boy to grasp it before a month was over. Rio had another two to study whatever he wanted for offensive applications.


    "It''s all about strategy for the pure mage. Magic isn''t helpful for your first three months but select boosts and healing. Healing is what we got for now." Orison offered.


    Rio scowled. "You know what they call healers? Milk maids. They aren''t looked at very nicely because-"


    The young mage interrupted. "Strategy. You think you have it rough now, wait til team fights later. You know who''ll have it rough then? Pure physical mutants and one trick ponies. Showcase your talent to a pure mutant or a powerful one trick pony. "They''ll help you get through this part in the hopes you''ll get them through another. Actually honor that expectation if they''re good peeps. Ditch them if they''re a**holes. If they plan on doing nothing but using you, treat them the way they treat others. Just don''t become an a**hole yourself."


    Rio looked exasperated. "Why can''t you help me that way? We''re going to be in the same class!?"


    Orison sighed. "Remember how I told you to always hold some back unless it''s life or death? Even me holding back is going to be a life or death for your classmates. I''m going to be escalated before three months are done, no matter how hard I try not to. That means I won''t be able to hold your hand through this rough patch."


    "Couldn''t you hold back just a little more?" Rio half pleaded.


    Orison shook his head. "Getting used to fighting people too much weaker than yourself is bad practice. It might be good for the ego but your skills will stagnate and regress. You''ll pick up bad habits too. Bullies almost always suck in a fight with an opponent that should be an equal match. You''ll see exactly what I''m talking about tomorrow... maybe. Life likes to throw surprises."

 159 Country of Champions 10

    True to form, life did throw a surprise, except that it shouldn''t have been that much of one. The academic assessment tests were a lot harder than Orison thought they would be. Social Studies and History were already things the young mage knew were going to be obstacles but he didn''t expect that the knowledge of science he took for granted wouldn''t only shoot him in the foot, it was also very rusty.


    He informed the evaluation panel the moment his results came out that he was going to address the issues in ''juice box''. That didn''t stop them from embarrassing him nearly to death by putting him in remedial courses until he ''proved'' it. To keep from having to endure the shame, Orison filed an exemption from his first accelerator class to knock out the potholes of his education standards.


    The mental boost pod, juice box, was little more than a technological, watered down version of the ''bewildering array that the silk purse had used on him. It was more beneficial and psyche protecting but since he focused on more multipliers to time rather than mental boost, it really wasn''t any different. On his first day, while in the virtual, he tried a little of the boosting to find out that all it did for him was make his mind get tired more quickly. His soul had far more computational and memory retention prowess than his mind to begin with.


    After finding out that he could file exemptions for accelerator class another four times in a row, he did so. The mocking text from Jacques was the main reason. As juvenile as it was, being belittled in an area he had some pride in stung in ways he couldn''t easily ignore. The mockery from the jumping clowns ready to slap him onto the bench to take his seat didn''t phase him at all. Rio''s slowly deeper growing doubt in him over the following four days did a little.


    Once he rolled out of the juice box on day five, Orison immediately marched over to the evaluation office and signed up for his secondary exam. After being advised that there would be a mandatory three month lock out where he''d be forced to attend remedial if he failed, he insisted. Three grueling hours and a late lunch later, he tested out at near perfects. Done with that, he called a secondary education evaluation test and received a pass. It had been a close call on History and Science, however.


    The faculty advised him to stay on, polish up some more and shoot for core. They tried to explain that a future in core administration was a much better option and that, with his acumen, it wouldn''t be that difficult to get an academic recommendation for the accelerator program. To their disappointment, Orison was dead set on Rowdies.


    Early that Saturday, Jacques finally showed up for the first time since their tiff. By the look on his face, the man was not pleased. Orison invited him in with an innocent smile on his face and offered the man a grape soda.


    Red faced, Jacques all but shouted, "Am I supposed to be impressed!? A half of a year of Juice Box wasted in a week for nothing more than a barely pass!? How much use, how much could you absorb from so much decompressed time perception? The only thing impressive about your feat is that you aren''t experiencing mental echo or some other thing stupid people get trying to push their brains too far."


    Confused, Orison said, "I don''t get it. I only pushed a hundred days. How is that half a year?"


    His first time acting like anything approaching an actual instructor, Jacques angrily spit, "It''s based on the 200 days worth of a school year. Now answer me. Why wouldn''t you want to shoot for a core recommendation? Even if you didn''t accept, it would still get you a little more attention and possibly some more resources for development."


    Orison gave a saintly smile, "Let''s get all the disappointment out of the way, shall we? Native and Planer Biology, Native and Planar Geology, Planar Anthropology and a few side courses are going to eat up another year''s worth of my Juice Box time. The rest will be spent in simulations observing and fighting against planar threats."


    Jacques, geared up to lay into Orison for whatever thing the young mage would say, swallowed back down whatever stock arguments he had planned and actually calmed down considerably. "I see. I also think I understand a little too. It''s so laser focused, instead of feeling angry, I think I pity you a little. Are you in such a rush to grow up and probably die? It''s a coin flip, you know. Do you even have a fallback plan if your fast track gets derailed?"


    Orison said, "I think you might be missing a little something here. I''m freeing up more time to focus on the things that can''t be learned in Juice Box or at school. I don''t know how much you''ve looked into my actions since I came here but I have an alchemy instructor and if you hadn''t stepped into the picture, I''d have poured whatever remaining resources and time I had left into personal magic studies."


    "What resources? You blew them on redeeming your Viking man," Jacques said.


    The young mage thought about it some and said, "Follow me to the alchemy room, Instructor LeStrange. I''m about to invoke some Master-Apprentice confidentiality."


    After having combed through his possessions more than once, Orison had selected some things he felt he didn''t really need to hold onto. Pulling out his ring, the young mage dropped the lesser half of his enchantment supply on the table. The vast majority was either not as appealing or, from his basic understanding, far too focused in use on specific things that he wasn''t interested in.


    "Aside from the more exotic pieces, I have a general idea of what they''re worth. It''s not some huge reveal, I know but it''s still a secret cache big enough to illicit some greed," Orison said.


    It didn''t seem like the wisest move but he needed to know if he could trust his instructor. If it meant losing the material half of his nest egg, Orison considered it worth the risk. He had too many secrets and he needed to be able to display some of them to get any use out of them.


    LeStrange looked at the items and back at Orison. "Tell me truly. Are you a walk-in that slipped past the net somehow?"


    "Since I''m going to the Rowdies, does it matter?" the young mage countered.


    The man was silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head. "So you decided to fence this three or so million worth of materials through me instead of Liberty?"


    Orison said, "No. I decided to hand this over to you to see how you''d treat me. These are my possessions, not stolen goods. I want to know. Aside from low balling their value by at least half, what do you plan to do about it?"


    The man said, "I''m going to take this and pay off your debt. From there, I''ll get some of them properly identified and make a proper accounting of it. Other than the twen- ten percent I''ll take for my time and effort, I''ll put half into your account and save the other half back for serious training with you when you''re ready... Anything else you''d like to declare and save some effort?"


    "Time and trust, Instructor LeStrange," Orison said blandly.


    The man packed the materials away and left still softly shaking his head.


    "Fencing goods through Liberty, ha! If her laces were any straighter, they''d be reinforced with rebar," the young mage shot at Jacques'' departing figure.


    It hadn''t escaped Orison''s notice that when he came down to the basement with Jacques, the sounds coming from the training room became much more subdued. Due to the good insulation between rooms, he''d have no troubles focusing on alchemy even if a battle was going on in there so he knew that it wasn''t out of courtesy. Poking his head in, he noticed Rio and two rather physically fit girls looking like they were still recovering from exertion.


    After using spirit sight and his heightened sense of smell to check for signs of unapproved activity and finding that it had ''mostly'' been legit, Orison let the little slips of excitement and slight amount of heavy petting pass. Things might have escalated to areas not acceptable if he hadn''t showed up but he couldn''t very well take Rio to task for an almost that didn''t happen. They had been legitimately training and one of the girls got a little too into the contact.


    Orison looked at the ''barely'' adult he figured was suckered into coming to fill the ''responsible adult'' clause of his deal with the teen. "I''ll approve you to chaperon and use our private equipment but keep it R-15 in here, alright?"


    The young lady said, "Don''t you mean pg-13?"


    Orison shrugged. "A happy compromise between that and the R-17 you let it get to today... You two better wash your hands before touching anymore equipment in here and everything gets wiped down after you''re done."


    The girl that was around the same age as Rio blushed and said, "Thank you for letting us use your training room. I''m, uh, sorry. It won''t happen-"


    Simultaneously Rio was muttering something Orison couldn''t hear that clearly but knew what he would be feeling if he was in Rio''s place and let it slide.


    "Don''t make promises you don''t even know if you intend to keep. I''d appreciate it if you didn''t full out break my rules and have to get barred, though. I''m glad Rio''s finding some... friends." Orison said.


    He briefly took a moment to remember what they looked like. There was a family resemblance between the two, most strikingly obvious from the identically colored sets of strawberry blonde hair. They also had fairly similar modest endowments in areas that it was hard for a guy not to notice even when he tries not too but the older one that was barely in his ''okay to pay attention to'' zone had a men''s class ring on a short necklace.


    Figuring that he''d said what needed saying, he made his way out only to find that the older one was following him up. "I don''t get it. I know looks can be deceiving around Avalon but you two don''t really have the vibe of family. Why do you support him and keep him on the up and up? It''s only casual curiosity, mind you. I''m not snooping, just speaking my mind."


    Seeing more harm than good over being too tight lipped, he said, "I was a friend of his adopted father. The man was there for me when I needed him, though I ended up taking care of him more. He was a good guy."


    "Rio bad mouths him a little but you can tell he cares about the man a great deal. Never said his name, though. Not that uncommon around here but, damn. How many hidden hex masters can there be in Avalon? Trisha, by the way, Orison," the young lady said.


    The young mage held back a sigh and said, "Demons and devils can do things with a name freely given too but I see your point. Is there something I can do for you Trisha?"


    The young woman''s smile slipped a notch. "Just trying to be friendly. You are letting us use your training room."


    As he checked his touchscreen for messages, Orison said, "Least I can do for Rio''s friends."


    After an awkward moment of silence, Trisha walked back downstairs. After a minute or two, he had their public information pulled up on the touchscreen. Trisha was a holdover for a complicated training injury. She was a C-class physical enhancement mutant with a touch of artifact assisted D- class wizardry magic, active Rowdies program senior who was earning some merit by working as an assistant trainer. Daphne, her younger cousin downstairs, was in training to be a technomancer in front line support.


    He got the impression that Daphne was just a sporty teenage girl that took a shine to Rio but Trisha didn''t give him innocent vibes. It wasn''t anything overly ugly but there was a least a touch of angling going on. She''d racked up some debt and probably didn''t want to start her Rowdy career with too much hanging over her head. After all, interest was deferred til a person left education.


    From what he''d learned, a D-class wizard was close to being classified as an arcanist. Being that both were reliant on tools to not only focus but direct essence, the only real difference was that wizards at least had a reserve to hold some magic in them where an arcanist really only had an innate magic affinity. Such knowledge did flip Orison''s misconception about all mystics in this magic essence stingy world being emitter types, on it''s back. With emitters and extra planar sources around to generate essence, even neutral types could use magic.


    A little curious, Orison looked up the difference between an arcanist and a person who might have practiced some legitimate ritual magic for awhile. Aside from magic channels that didn''t serve much purpose without a reserve, there really wasn''t one. Then it dawned on him. The UTF might not care but Avalon would. On certain planes, an arcanist would be like a magic machine gun.


    Without a reserve behind it, an arcanist''s magic channels would be like a vacuum cleaner, sucking magic from one side and pushing it out the other. They''d just have to be careful not to overtax their channels and they could easily be more useful than a sorcerer in some places. They would also be more likely to face dire consequences if ambient essence was tainted with something bad. It sparked a nasty thought in the back of his mind.


    With a little more searching, Orison got a decent idea of what happened to E and F-class Wizards. There was more ''merit'' in turning them into arcanists. After a little more digging, his intuition sluggishly joining to satisfy his curiosity, Orison was fairly certain he''d discovered another nugget of ugly hidden beneath Avalon''s glittering facade. Not only did they have a way to turn wizards into arcanists, judging by some records and statistics that seemed unrelated unless looked at side by side, there was a directive to make that happen.


    In fact, although it was subtle, over the last five years there was a correlative drop in wizard discoveries that corresponded almost directly with an increase in S-bar discoveries of arcanists. Following further down the rabbit hole, his intuition seeming to catch a whiff of something beneficial to himself, he started seeing a pattern of increased arcanist presence in places that WERE essence tainted. He immediately called Jacques back over. There was nothing about the situation that benefited Avalon at the end game and that''s just not how the place worked.


    Grumpy but curious, Jacques gave a text saying that he''d be back over right after he dropped off the materials in a safe place. Orison was fine with that because there was one last thing he wanted to look into before his instructor arrived. Walking back down to the basement and seeing real training happening, the young mage quietly got Trisha''s attention and motioned her to follow him into the meditation room.


    Once he got her there, he said, "I looked into you two. Nothing major. Just public records."


    Red faced, Trisha said, "Well that''s a little insulting."


    Orison nodded in agreement and said, "But honest and you''d do the same in my position. First of all, sorry. Secondly, I have an interest in supernatural biology in relation to the medical field and I''d like to examine your injury. I''m open to compensation as long as it''s reasonable."


    She looked at him dubiously and said, "How would you ''examine'' it?"


    "Using my sensitivity. I want to see what an essence, sorry, mana reserve injury looks like to it. As you can see on my record, it''s not high but it is directly focused on identifying and tracking ess- er, mana," Orison said with his best neutral business face.


    She insisted on seeing his S\u0026M bars before she said, "Swear an oath that you''ll only look and nothing else. I''ll also want 10,000 merits."


    Orison spluttered a little but checked his budget to make sure there wouldn''t be any problems and said, "Alright. I swear that all I intend is to look at your injury with my spiritual sight. I will only do more if I am convinced it will be beneficial to you and will ask permission first."


    He felt tenuous bonds of some kind sink and cover a small portion of his space''s latticework. Looking down, Orison saw a faint spatter of magic pattern dance in Trisha''s palm. Irritated but somewhat understanding, he let it go.


    After a little preparation, Orison imitated Pelenel''s gentle method as best as he could as he slowly increased the intensity of his spirit sight. As droplets of essence enriched intent collected back up within her aura, he slowly dove towards the reserve spot near her heart. Immediately he saw an issue that would make it hard to see what he wanted.


    Grinding his teeth for a moment, he let the tension go and said with false cheer, "I don''t think you''d have any objections to meditating here? It''s a free refill for your tank."


    She agreed after he withdrew his intent. It took her nearly half an hour to balloon out her pitiful, less than ten unit reserve and he could tell that it pained her some but she was being a trooper for that 10,000 merits.

 160 Country of Champions 11

    As Orison slid his intent back in, Trisha began moaning and even slightly writhing. "I know it''s a little uncomfortably full in there but just relax and let yourself stretch out just a little bit. I''ll take it slow, all the way to the back... It''s tight inside. Is it your first time being a little overfilled or has it just been awhile?"


    Biting back a moan she said, "It''s been awhile but it''s never been quite like this. Between the injury and my boyfriend... ex-boyfriend not having come around to, you know. I''ve been having to, ugh, use my tool to do it for myself. It''s harder and takes longer to get what I need... Oh, oh god! What was that!?"


    Breaking out in a slight sheen of sweat from exerting as much control and concentration as he could, he said, "I started leaking a little and slid further than I meant to. Are you alright?"


    Breath hitched, she said, "It was like little shocks all over. It-it didn''t hurt, it''s just really sensitive... There, you''re there! Please don''t try to push any further! Uhg, I feel like I''m going to split open!"


    Orison bit his lip and then said, "I''ll hold back for a second and let you adjust before I move, alright? It''ll be slow, easy circles."


    After he started moving a little, her head snapped back, eyes fluttering.


    Tightly gripping his arm, she started muttered, "Please, please, please."


    Concerned, he stopped and said, "What are you feeling? What do you want?"


    "It''s strange. It hurts but it feels good. I- I don''t know what I want. Just do it!" she said almost breathlessly.


    Seeing that she''d adjusted to the limit of what he dared to push into her, he started moving a little faster. Touching and sliding past every part, he could feel her accommodating him. The entrance place and channel he pushed through tightly clenched around him, she temporarily conformed to his shape as he explored the very limits of her depths.


    Brushing past a certain spot, she bucked and cried out. Finding what he was looking for, he honed in on it, thoroughly exploring it. On the verge of fainting, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she shuddered with complex and intense sensations. Seeing that she had reached the end of her endurance, he quickly got what he needed and shuddered a little as well as he withrew.


    Focusing back in on the world around him, Orison noticed that Jacques was standing there, arms akimbo with an arched eyebrow. Behind his instructor, Daphne was peeking in, looking slightly scandalized. On the other side, Rio sported a sleazy grin with his portable touch screen out, voice recording.


    Orison spared a dire look for the teen and said, "Erase or suffer."


    Muttering something, Rio at least pretended to comply. The young mage would check later to make sure anyway so he turned to LeStrange.


    Jacques quickly bent down to run a light sweep of his own intent. "After being highlighted like that, I can vaguely see that something is wrong. I''ll let her recover before taking a look myself. Besides, it''s so thoroughly coated with your essence in there. I want to let her body process some of that out."


    Orison said, thoughtfully, "Is there consequences to doing that?"


    LeStrange said, "Once or twice, it''s not overly likely but more than that-"


    Rio muttered, "She''ll get knocked up?"


    He said it a little louder than he meant to and caused three sets of scowling eyes to look at him. Daphne was trying to hold back a little giggle over the trouble Rio had brought on himself. Trisha was obviously burning with curiosity over her ''condition'' and didn''t like being the butt of someones joke."


    "Am I in any immediate danger? I''d like to use the restroom," Trisha said.


    Jacques and Orison both looked at her and the older man gestured to the doorway while the young mage said, "I doubt the trigger will be in there but just in case, don''t touch Rio''s socks if he missed the hamper again. Something that unwholesome has to be bad on a supernatural level."


    With a gentle suggestion to look after her cousin, Daphne was sent upstairs by Orison. Rio was sent packing after them with a harsh reminder that he was their host and should be offering refreshments or something.


    The teen smirked. "Really, because from where I was standing, it looked like you were hos-"


    Faster than Rio could follow, Orison wrapped his hand around the boy''s face and squeezed just shy of bruising. "Thin ice, you''re skating on it."


    Rio ripped his head free and said in a half angry, half amused voice, "No need to be all bent out of shape. Jeez."


    Once the teen was upstairs, Orison looked at Rio''s palmed touchscreen and erased the voice recording and then used it in tandem with his own to show Jacques the initial reason for asking him to come back.


    In the beginning, Jacques said, "For the girl, in the future, situations like that should be taken to a hospital but its fine... As far as this goes, urging wizards with little chance for growth to take the arcanist spirit surgery has been a standard practice for a long time."


    Slowly, Orison lead Jacques down the same rabbit hole he climbed through.


    "Mon dieu! This can''t be right! We''ve had infiltration lines before but this one goes all the way to lower core! We need to lock this down, now." Dr. Odd''s apprentice was about to call his team.


    Orison held out a hand. "Take it easy and don''t draw attention to it. Contact your superior and lock it from the top down so you can get the head and the body instead of just the tail."


    "Do I look like a fool to you, you boy! I''ve been doing this job for nearly a decade with plenty of condiments," the man said, his hawkish nose hoisted high like a stiff banner.


    Holding back a chuckle, Orison said, "My apologies, Instructor LeStrange."


    Covertly, the man changed the number he was about to dial for another and explained HIS findings to Dr. Odd. Despite superficially taking credit, Jacques did report the series of events accurately, if a little tilted in his favor. Less than three minutes later, it was Orison''s turn to be ushered out of his own basement with the task of making sure Trisha, Daphne and Rio didn''t leave the house or come back down to the basement yet.


    While the two girls were doing their thing in the bathroom, Rio said, "Look. Don''t get mad or anything but did it feel good, that thing you did with Trisha"


    Orison sighed. "You want real talk? It was weird and brushing up against the equivalent of a supernatural bacterial culture was gross... I know for a fact that there ARE ways to enjoy doing such things but you really got to like someone and be somewhat spiritually compatible to get pleasure from mingling essence."


    "It might have looked interesting and sounded... interesting but most of the noises she was making weren''t happy ones. It was painful, confusing and probably a little scary to have someone else poking and prodding inside of an area not meant for anything more than a temporary storage area for essence.


    "Only the outer edge of a honed intent is useful for safe contact. The rest is spiritual or psychic sensory input. Might as well ask me if poking a dirty wound with a nose or a tongue feels good. I suppose, before the last part, there might have been some small amount of abstract pleasure and stimulation but it wasn''t anything gratifying like you were imagining."


    Rio looked highly disappointed but still asked finer questions about spiritual intent. It was a good thing for the teen to know as well. Onmyoji used intent for almost everything they were known for and no matter what Rio ended up studying, it would only be natural that his talents would lie close to those hereditary lines. Somewhere along the trek of his impromptu lecture, Daphne and Trisha started listening in too.


    Avalon wasn''t stingy with sharing information but there were some things reserved for elites only. It wasn''t just Meritocracy BS or secret nepotism, at least not only that. It was also to keep certain bits of information entrenched in Avalon and not falling into common usage outside. The honing of intent wasn''t high on that list but it wasn''t something easy to get information on either.


    Realizing the importance of what he was sharing, Orison kept it useful but mostly superficial. There was a good possibility that his understanding of it was high enough to count as legacy considering that without a personalized and compatible meditation method, honing intent was ridiculously slow and difficult beyond the initial stages but with enough knowledge on it mixed with poor understanding, a person could easily hurt themselves or weaker willed mundanes.


    Around the time he was wrapping up his charity lecture, Jacques called Trisha down the stairs and came back up to talk with Orison. "That was generous of you. Valuable secrets like that are why people pay well for tutors or save up for years to afford a good apprenticeship for one of their children."


    The young mage said, "If it weren''t for the dangers of self harm and mundane abuse, it would make good public knowledge. Being strong enough to sense intrusion of intent from possessing entities and manipulators would only be beneficial."


    LeStrange added, "Let''s not forget that it is a prerequisite for ritual magic and useful in the control of any powerful magic."


    Shifting gears with mercurial speed, Jacques said, "All right, the three of you. Because this is going to be an all night mission, the girls are going to be spending the night."


    Seeing Rio''s mounting excitement, he said, "To make this proper, Shifty is going to be acting guardian until tomorrow."


    A black cat that had gotten into the house grew into a stern, middle aged woman who looked like some female boarding school girl''s worst nightmare.


    Seeing that the lady was taking her job seriously and was intent on including Orison in that duty, he told Jacques, "Since my basement is off limits and I can''t see my alchemy instructor today, I''m going to work on some reading in my bedroom. Could I please get a deactivate on the surveillance equipment in it please?"


    The man said, "Ridiculous. There''s no such thing. Bedrooms and bathrooms are off limits."


    Orison said, "So you won''t mind me destroying them then...since they''re not supposed to be there?"


    "No... I mean yes! They aren''t active. It''s for emergency use only." the man said, slightly embarrassed.


    "So, inactive cameras shift angles and positions, like the one in the bathroom? That''s interesting. Turn them off til tomorrow. I want bedroom privacy since I can''t have basement privacy," the young mage said blandly.


    Absentmindedly, he saw how green Rio looked. "They probably weren''t turned on until I got here. Whatever you got up to in there wasn''t seen, Rio."


    Orison exited the circus and holed up until the next day. While he caught up on some reading from the crazy evil Magi''s journal, a quite storm swept through Avalon. The small mountain of sudden approved vacations, early retirements and overnight approved switches to independent status would have administration eating migraine medicine and drinking antacids like they were balanced meals for a few days. Despite what the young mage uncovered being a huge merit, such a deeply terrifying and scandalous affair wouldn''t ever be publicly recognized. It was too damaging.


    He thought, "And that may have been the big payoff to begin with. Hundreds of victims over the span of years and the main goal was more likely the damaging of Avalon''s prestige and public image. It would certainly make them look just as bad as the UTF and after the debacle I was involved in there, this should have been ''evening the playing field'' using the same tool. Me.


    "Of course, I didn''t feel overly manipulated into discovering it. I kind of ran with that on my own. Did I get ahead of them? The crumb trail that they were feeding to me, did I accidentally jump to the end too fast for what was planned, allowing Avalon to do damage control? If so, how p*ssed must they be? Several years worth of build up to put a nasty crack in Avalon''s shiny wall just to have it mortared and painted over in the middle of the night? It''s a satisfying thought but all this is just me tilting at windmills."


    Hours later, he was awakened from trance as a cool slither of spider silk thin intent try to breach into his spiritual seat. Right when he was about to get a good grip on it and pull as much as he could into the devouring swirl of his space''s outer edge, his intuition warned him not to. It wasn''t so much that the ''shadow in his bones'' had grew strong enough to influence him again or that his intuition itself had grown that much stronger. It was just that fatal of a mistake.


    Instead, Orison mental ''flicked'' it and thought, "Get out and talk to me in person or over the touchscreen. You might be stronger but I WILL make it very unpleasant for you if you keep trying."


    The dry chuckle of an older woman reverberated from the intent. "Alright. We can do it that way. Bring your young charge and whatever friends you like to the water park two miles north of your home. Around ten in the morning good? I like how nice the artificial sunlight feels in there but it gets a bit too strong past eleven."


    Orison thought to the stranger''s intent, "Your treat? Not to sound impolite but I''m not exactly flourishing at the moment."


    The woman''s voice was filled with good natured mirth. "Not to sound impolite but if it''s my treat, I know better than to leave details fuzzy for cunning youngsters such as yourself to take advantage of. Details will be on your touch screen."


    The thread of intent from the kind and matronly sounding voice exited his spiritual seat as his touch screen flashed a little brighter once. Before he checked it, Orison took a quick shower and air dried while he went through all his messages. Aside from one that was brilliant green among the charcoal uniformity of the rest, there was one he received from Liberty stating that some of her schedule had been shifted around.


    She wanted to know if Orison was available at two in the afternoon for the meeting that they had scheduled for the following week. Getting a suspicious vibe about what had caused those changes, he agreed. Done with hers and seeing another three in the morning text from Turner, he read that one as well.


    Five days prior, Orison sent a message to Turner asking about what courses in higher learning experienced Rowdies and planar response personnel found the most helpful. Four days prior, Turner responded and gave a pretty detailed list which Orison thanked him for and promised to show a real appreciation for once he had a decent amount of free merits. Three days prior, Orison received a very tired and probably slightly inebriated text from the man.


    Turner explained how he thought his wife was thinking of leaving him and asked how, presumably someone other than Orison, managed to hold on to their wife and seemed so happy. After reading through a very garbled section about not wanting to hear dumb stuff like extra spice in the sack like usual but some real advice because he was at the end of his rope, the young mage responded to the text anyway.


    Orison explained that the man''s wife was probably just as tired as he was and waking her for some ''extra spice'' was probably the worst thing that he could do. Instead, the last two hours they shared the bed before she needed to get up with the kids, he could just hold her. If she woke up, he could tell her that he missed her and that he didn''t want anything but to feel her in his arms, the mother of his children and the love of his life. She fell in love with and married a man of action so what she was missing were the ''actions'', the physical proof of his feelings for her, and not just the one that made their children.


    It went well. Two nights prior, still mistaking Orison for his married friend, Turner explained how he got a special wake up he hadn''t gotten in some time and thanked his friend for giving out some good advice for once. Later on, the young mage got a message apologizing up one side and down the other about mistaking him for someone else. After a night of silence, Turner sent a message simply stating ''Any more good ideas?''.


    Shaking his head with a wry grin, Orison opened the message with green letterhead. Inside was a link to the entertainment organization board where he could redeem a platinum all expense day pass to the water park and forward three gold day passes. Those three gold granted 5000 merit gift card and could forward seven silver passes. A silver came with a 1000 merit gift card and could issue three standard tickets. There were only three people in Avalon who could issue a platinum pass from their reservation and that was a triumvirate member wielding their diamond access which sealed the venue for four hours. In this case, it was 9:30AM to 1:30 PM.


    Seeing that it was a quarter til five, Orison quickly constructed a text with a wicked grin. "Ask and yea shall receive, Turner. Ask and yea shall receive."

 161 Country of Champions 12

    When the car that came to pick them up, dropped them off at the water park, Daphne was still trying to help Rio figure out who to give his last silver ticket to. While they bickered over trivial reasons for one choice over another, Orison scanned across the mostly empty parking lot. For as big as the actual attraction itself was, the space for personal vehicles was rather smaller than Orison imagined it would be. Then again, he should have known. A private vehicle was a ridiculously costly affair compared to UTF transportation standards.


    As he walked up to the ticket booth, the young mage was greeted by a man in full riot gear who explained that their entrance would be delayed for a few minutes. It so happened that it was just enough time to allow the other invitees to arrive and start lining up as well. Surprisingly, it was Justice who ended up making the most out of it.


    When Orison sent his third gold ticket to the man, he didn''t even know if Justice would be able to come. Not only did he, every single one of the tickets from silver to standard went to someone. With the silver haired man in the lead, seven adults varying in age ringed twenty-one children. Three of the adults looked very ''official'', along with Justice himself. He may have made the most of Orison''s offer but it was apparent that it was still in line with whatever work the man was personally responsible for.


    With a sleep-walking Turner mere feet away from the young mage, he could hear the conversation his wife was having with her ''girlfriend''. "Would you believe it? My baby''s new friend not only gave us comped passes on an core reservation day, he sent extra instructions on how to keep Turner from getting to sleep in at home!"


    The friend laughed and replied, "Is that instructions on how to rotisserie a chicken? What does this note say? Replace chicken with Turner and baste with sunscreen... Haha! This dude''s a riot!... Hey, zombie. Is your friend single?"


    Practically on auto-pilot, Turner said, "Confirmed bachelor."


    "Please tell me that''s him," She said, pointing at Justice.


    Turner''s wife said, "Ha, girl. That''s Justice Wingright. My sister''s friend said you have to plan a month in advance just to have a coffee with the guy.


    "So where is this friend of yours?" the ''girlfriend'' said.


    Turner dully scanned around while Orison flipped up the hood of his Turkish bathrobe. The young mage had never been so happy that Rio had wasted merits on that ''wardrobe for every occasion'' package.


    Daphne, recognizing the wife''s friend, said, "Isn''t that Garret''s mom? Let''s just invite him then."


    Rio shrugged and fiddled with his touchscreen.


    While Daphne dragged Rio over to say hi, Justice turned to Orison and said, "This was a nice gesture, a perfect way for the last few kids at your dorm that were in intake waiting for their parents to come to get some relaxation before their schooling starts tomorrow... I hope you don''t mind that I brought my niece and nephew. Liberty''s going to be here today and she can spend a little time with her kids while she''s not escorting you around."


    As all eyes present swiveled to him, Orison inwardly cringed.


    He leaned in and whispered, "Justice, I gave the ticket to you. Please tell me Liberty''s kids have silver tickets."


    The man slightly froze up. To make everything fair, he had given all the silver tickets to the adults so all the children would be equal. Orison explained the misunderstanding to the ticket booth attendant and two of the on-duty chaperons exchanged tickets with Liberty''s kids. The last one did it for the twelve year old girl he''d met at the dorm. Her mother was one of the ''off-duty'' chaperons and was actually in the process of adopting two of the older girls in the group.


    With Justice''s group crowding around him, Orison managed to avoid awkward introductions with Turner''s group as his wife found out that her husband''s new friend and Rio''s acting guardian was suspiciously young looking. It was Avalon, so it wasn''t impossible for an older person to look that way but it was pretty rare. It was rare enough that people apparently didn''t know how to cope easily with it at any rate. If they knew the whole truth, the young mage had no doubts they''d be even more dumbfounded.


    His luck continued to hold as Liberty came up to let him in a couple of minutes before everyone else. To reciprocate his gratefulness at being spared awkward interactions, he insisted that she bring her kids along and make things as informal as possible. Although she was technically on the job, that job included dressing for the occasion and Orison couldn''t help but notice that the mother of two might be a little too cold and a little too thinly athletic to be appealing in a traditional way, she was far from hard on the eyes.


    Due to a slight unforeseen delay, there was almost an hour before Orison could meet the mystery woman. He informed Liberty that her and the kids could enjoy attractions on the way and they could could just pace it out. Due to the nature of ''proximity equals friend'' that some children had, the two youngest that Justice had taken responsibility for were dragged along by Liberty''s kids. With the overly serious looking siblings and the kids sticking together, it felt like a family holiday that Orison accidentally got stuck in.


    He preferred it that way. It was obvious that the siblings were both workaholics and there was the slightest amount of desperation in the children''s attempts to monopolize Liberty''s attention that was a little heart prickling. There was a real passion in both the siblings for the safety and welfare of children so it baffled the young mage how Liberty could be on such rocky emotional ground with her own kids.


    For the next half hour or so, they meandered their way through the main public affair and started hitting the side attractions which had Orison swiping his platinum pass left and right so they could keep their amounts for other things later. During that time, he heard the kids, Liberty and Justice talk about everything under the sun but one. For whatever reason, the father of Liberty''s children wasn''t mentioned or even indirectly referred to. It was as if such a person didn''t even exist.


    At some point, Liberty and Justice had seamlessly switched roles in escorting Orison and noticing the tight lipped curiosity he said, "Depending on who you ask, anywhere from forty to eighty percent of the differently advantaged of this world owe their gifts or peculiarities to bloodline inheritance from hostile planar visitors. Nearly all of them are not pleasant stories to hear."


    The young mage got the impression that Justice shared what little he did to keep curiosity from turning into asked questions, not to answer them. It was enough for Orison to complacently remain ignorant and untangled in someone''s private affairs but not be blind-sighted by potential complications or accidentally step on landmines. He was perfectly fine with that.


    Reaching a portion of the park where another gate stood, Liberty began the process of parting ways with her children. The complex look she had spoke not only of not wanting to end the fun she was having with her kids back but something more. He didn''t know what this visit was all about but the young mage didn''t want to break what looked like a rare success of a bonding moment between them.


    "You two work in the same field, if not the same department. Do you think it would be a big deal for Justice to cover your duties? Aside from this meeting, we''re all here pretty much doing the same thing anyway," Orison added helpfully.


    The complicated look on Liberty''s face grew deeper before she turned to Justice with pleading eyes.


    Ears burning, Justice''s grim face grew to near dire levels. "Fine. But you owe me one, sister."


    She acknowledged with a silent nod as he sent a message to his team and handed over his earbud with a couple of other devices. The lonely and desolate look her kids had, instantly brightened up. Feeling like he did a good deed at the expense of a little of Justice''s goodwill, Orison followed the trudging man.


    As they walked past the turn style at the gate, Orison saw signs explaining that only children between infant to seven years of age with supervising adult or sixteen and up without supervision were allowed past. A conspicuous sign nearby stated a few rules including things like ''More than three seconds isn''t a casual look, it''s harassment.'' and ''Touching of any kind requires consent except first aid and injury prevention.'' An S curved privacy hall was installed on the other side and halfway through was a side hall that lead back out. A large red arrow pointed towards the floor where a thick yellow and black hazard line had been drawn that stated ''Clothing Optional Area''.


    Orison chuckled and said, "They installed an escape route for people who lost their nerve?"


    Scowling, Justice answered, "First time visitors used to be tricked into walking into this area thinking it was a place to get away from the larger crowd but otherwise not much different to the rest of the water park."


    The first part of the new area was a large wading pool and sun bathing area where he found two distinct sets of people. In the one nearest the entrance, Turner and his wife were laid out, both fast asleep with a currently empty, shaded pack and play nearby. Further up, he saw two familiar teens and a couple more he''d never met before.


    Stopping, he said, "Turner, you''re starting to blister a little. Do you want a healing?"


    The man roused after a repeat from Orison and looked down his chest.


    Covering doubtlessly painful tender parts, Turner said, "Uh, yeah."


    Pretending like he was fishing around in his robe pocket, the young mage donned his ruby ring focus and made short work of it. The wife woke up during the process and offered a near sobbing apology.


    At least that''s what he thought it was until Orison realized she was desperately trying to hold a laugh back. "Aww, honey. You look like a piece of bread that only got toasted on one side."


    Grumbling, Turner flipped over and his wife went to work making sure the back yard could look like the front in a less skin hazardous manner. The man barely got a mumbled thanks out before he was lightly snoring again.


    Handing a small stone jar to her, the young mage said, "If he burns the buns like he did the goose, use that."


    She smiled and said, "Thanks for that, for everything really. Have my husband properly introduce us later. I''d really like to know how you two became friends."


    Justice reminded him that they were running out of time as she tried to engage him in conversation. Orison smiled and gave her a helpless shrug.


    As they walked away, he asked Justice, "How much leeway do we have? Thank you either way but I thought we had plenty of time."


    Justice said, "The last part''s a little tricky and I don''t know how good of a swimmer you are. On the base line that I had to drag you the last part of the way, we have two minutes of leeway."


    Passing the four teenagers, the strong one only recognizable as such by his youthful face, Orison said, "Rio, after 1:30 you can get a fine. That and any others you might get will come out of your weekly allotments until they''re paid off."


    The teen said, "I''m only less than two months away."


    Orison shrugged. "Not an argument or a demand. It''s just a warning of what will happen.


    Playing diplomat, Daphne snapped Rio''s speedo and said, "That''s Garret and his girlfriend this week out there in the wade pool. I was thinking that they''d make a good team to get past first and second quarter."


    Seeing that Garret was lumbering his way over to say a few words while Justice was starting to get a little hot under the collar over even more delays, Orison said, "Thanks for the intro, Daps. You''re a keeper... Don''t forget, four people plus one approved chaperon max invite to the house at any given time, Rio."


    While Justice lead them over to a vendor booth for waterproof totes and a few other items, Orison said, "Sorry for that but I did not want to get tied up in something and come back home to a spontaneous house party... What''s this stuff for?"


    "It''s a hard swim to a section with minimal dress code. Since I''m on duty and you were requested to attend, we can invoke modesty clause. The problem is, the person you are about to meet considers one''s attire to be a reflection of one''s honesty. The more you cover beyond necessity, the more false she assumes you are," Justice said bitterly.


    Orison asked, "Is she a pervert or something?"


    Slowly shaking his head, Justice said, "Aurora''s a... nice but eccentric person. Her adjunct IS a... difficult person to deal with."


    While contemplating that, Justice led them to an area that had a cavernous mouth in the floor. Above it was a sign that read "Entrance to the three Islands of Truth. Please read posted signs and give signature to the required waver/guestbook upon reaching your desired destination. Ignorance is not an excuse. Ask posted attendants about any questions or concerns BEFORE entering."


    The person in full riot gear to the side said, "Standard rules and procedures have been suspended until 13:30, er, 1:30 PM. All personnel and guests of Triumvir Aurora will be given time to vacate the Islands before the attraction is opened to the general public."


    Justice said, "I''m going down first. Wait one minute before coming down yourself."


    The man clutched the tote of items to his chest and jumped feet first into the large hole.


    "If this is the entrance, where''s the exit?" the young mage asked while he was waiting.


    The member of Avalon''s answer to the Secret Service answered, "There''s a lift on the center island and emergency transport circles on all three that lead to the first aid room."


    Orison nodded and after an hour had passed, he imitated Justice. There was a terrifying feeling of free fall for nearly a ten count before it shifted to a bullet like push of himself through a vacuum tube, a gush of wind pushing him from behind. The cooler air above became more forceful for a bit as the tube narrowed to the size of a bus as gravity placed him on one side of it while light filtered in from micro holes above, allowing the air''s downward push a place to vent. The exit out was as gentle as a playground slide.


    On the other side, Justice was waiting in triathlon shorts and a swimming cap. The young mage didn''t get more than a couple of seconds to take in the wide vista of rolling waters with three green dots in the distance before he was handed the second shoulder sling tote. While he changed into a relatively similar outfit, Justice stared at the artificial horizon like the answers to the problems in his life could be found there.


    "After fifty meters, there will be aquatic transportation provided. Can you swim?" Justice asked.


    Orison nodded and jumped in, giving it his best effort. A couple of minutes later, Justice instructed him to latch on but the young mage invoked an impression of his ''living law'' water elemental. It wasn''t anything as good as it had been in the illusion but the ethereal fish in front of him allowed him to make good enough progress for Justice to quit worrying about appointment time.


    Once they were on a stingray shaped floating deck past the underground lake''s shallows shelf, he asked the grim looking man, "I don''t expect you to have all the answers but why is the setup like this?"


    Justice said, "It''s one of the biggest wastes of Avalon''s resources and it should have been shut down entirely. What little things they''ve done to improve it''s resource usage are pitiful."


    On the silent ride over, the young mage cobbled together what he could remember of the three big signs on the beach and tried to make some educated guesses on the full purpose of the islands. The right side ''Natural Truth'' island was the spot for exhibitionists, voyeurs and probably swingers as well. The left side ''Brutal Truth'' island was for, as best as Orison could guess, consensual non-consent, conquest and slavery role play. The middle island, and their destination, EO Pan, was an island retreat for certain spiritual and magic groups who had ''adults only'' portions to their practices.


    Attempting to rationalize it himself, Orison said, "You told me that Avalon was built on the corpses of its citizens. The more extreme the pressure a people face regularly, the more extreme an emotional deficit they tend to develop. Could this place be a way of offering some extreme forms of recreation to funnel that away so that they can find a balance between work and civilization?"


    Scowling, Justice said, "Indulging in darkness only makes it stronger."


    "So does ignoring it when its a part of you. And it is, Justice. It''s in all of us. That may be the ''truth'' that these islands are referring to." Orison returned not unkindly.


    Gray eyes focused on the EO Pan Island as if they were staring down a nemesis from across a battlefield, not particularly interested in Orison''s words. Considering the sudden intense trill of intuition informing the young mage of impending death if he stepped on the island, perhaps a battlefield was exactly what they''d be facing.

 162 Country of Champions 13

    Justice looked at Orison in confusion as the young mage hesitated to walk off the floating platform onto the dock. To compound the matter, not only did stepping onto the dock feel like a prelude to death but staying where he was slowly starting to feel just as dangerous. The young mage scanned through option after option, finding no release from the imminent crisis.


    Orison turned to his conduit, wondering why the Keystone wasn''t responding to his need. It stirred sluggishly from his intense focus on it. He picked up a flash of his agave plants and the tumbler glass a certain booze loving fallen angel had handed him once.


    "You want me to make tequila!?" Orison thought with no answer.


    With the feeling of impending death from either side seeming like a mere couple of seconds away, the young mage reached through to his plane intending on pulling one out. With little left but a mutual death retribution by withdrawing the miniatures sun of his plane, he hoped dropping an agave would give him enough time to ask if anyone knew how to make booze with it, because he sure didn''t.


    With his will firmly wrapped around the plant, he yanked only to find it gone. Turning his attention to the outside world, the imminent threat of death had disappeared as well but it was replaced by several dozens of Dr. Odd induced timeline echos of himself rushing to join him. Among them was one that was extra bright and real looking enough that he was sure others could see it. And they could, for the tenth of a second it took before it fused with him.


    That wasn''t the only special thing about the bright echo. It carried memories as well. Despite Orison''s soul taking the brunt of learning, his mind still almost broke down trying to process a little over three years of additional memories.


    Most of the unimportant and repetitive stuff was lost but he''d apparently taken a little vacation with Sammy to learn how to make tequila. At least, a version of him did. And wherever it was that she had taken him, that place wasn''t affected by Dr. Odd''s time reversal even though the young mage himself was.


    He decided to not even bother trying to figure out what low dimension BS happened and focused on absorbing as much as he could of the time he spent under Sammy''s ''fallen'' wing. To make her special brews wasn''t easy. It took a sliding scale of knowledge from multiple disciplines. From mundane chemistry through esoteric alchemy, it even had touches of potioneering and medicine making added in.


    The Orison she had was almost machine-like in focus and seemed to have little desire out of completing his ''debt of service'' to the cigar loving supernatural. He had a sneaking suspicion he''d been ''used'' for a whole lot more but being that it was some kind of spiritual doppelganger with little life of its own, he didn''t mind. He had gotten a lot out of it.


    Towards the end of his tenure in her special ''elsewhere'', the young mage had even done a little DIY that, sure enough, was sitting on the open part of his space. It wasn''t much, just a cabin with standard fixings, bookshelves and some parts for housing bathroom, stove and sink. Somewhere along another fuzzy part, the place was finished to an amazing degree with enchanted features he had no idea when were added.


    All the alchemy work he''d put in during that time, along with some ''attaboy'' rewards, were neatly stored into a locked pantry. He hadn''t had such a robust collection of potions, medicines and alcohol since before he''d left Amoril. He also hadn''t felt so confident in his alchemy craft since he left that willful world either.


    As the memories finished pouring in, he realized why Sammy had been so kind and generous with him. The supernaturally touched agave may have gotten her attention but what opened the doors to some private tutoring was the theft of a gold coin. Of the three things his conduit managed to grab for him, it had been the most powerful feeling although he''d never figured out what it did. The fallen angel''s own dice cup conduit had snatched it up before he or Sammy could stop it.


    He wondered if the gold coin had been picked up by the keystone for that very reason. If so, it was terrifyingly powerful but Orison wondered how much of that would translate into the mid dimensions. The Danann Key had also been powerful beyond belief but had suffered a fairly grim downgrade in abilities to affect things up there.


    A sudden ruckus, knocked him out of the memory absorbing reverie. Before he could focus on that, however, a wiff of all too familiar cigar smoke wafted past his nose.


    "Now don''t be givin no guff bout dem doin their jobs. Dey didn''t mean no real harm to ya. Yo death revenge carries a wallop an dey wanted to find a way to deal with dat. Because dey did, dey don''t have to pack you away to use as an ace up da sleeve, if you feel me... Dat gif box is fo dem," a rough sounding woman''s voice and cigar smoke scent faded together.


    Orison thought, "I suppose trying to find out how to deal with an exploding basketball sized chunk of pseudo-sun that my plane uses wouldn''t be an easy fix. It speaks well of the Truimverate for not defaulting to turning me into a disposable one time problem solver and doing this multi-death tester strategy instead. Then again, it''s not like I plan on bending over for them and becoming a disposable tool of any kind."


    A somewhat familiar gravelly voice said behind him, "What gives? I thought you said I could kill him once and it would be alright. I still haven''t paid him back for popping one of my grapes... I already cut back on the cursing ain''t I?"


    The young mage turned around to see a hulking blue skinned man treading water not too far behind him with Justice standing between them.


    He smiled in bittersweet nostalgia and said, "Gravat, of all the people I could have ran into elsewhere, you would be very low on my wish list but I''m glad to see you made it out of that soul trap of a place. You''re welcome for helping Pelenel get you out of there a little faster. How is he?"


    Gravat snorted and trudged out of the water. "Your kissing cousin and that little limp-wristed bunny boy who started hanging on his apron strings took off to somewhere else."


    Orison sighed. "I got the impression that Theo likes anybody who likes him. I doubt what equipment they have has anything to do with it. If Pelenel took him with, I''m sure there''s an explanation that''s a lot more flattering than the one you''re trying to paint but whatever."


    A naked middle aged woman cleared the treeline along with a very tired and slightly older looking Dr. Odd in a white linen shift.


    She said, "My big blue boy, the way you speak your personal truth so generously and with an unclouded heart is so beautiful. Don''t smear it with the ugliness of trying to speak other''s truths with such a clouded heart."


    Seeing Gravat''s transformation from chest beating prick to chastised kid, Orison thought, "Someone can actually reign in that walking colon cancer of a testosterone factory!?"


    The woman walked over and ran a hand down Gravat''s arm in a motherly display of affection and said, "Underneath that rough outside is a diamond just waiting for the whole world to admire."


    Despite a slight sense of illness at the thought, Orison said, "Duran thinks highly of him as well and he''s got a fairly reliable spiritual advisor. I have a hard time seeing it but I trust that."


    "How is the little guy doing? Did he find himself a girl that''s down with scratching his hard to reach places?" Gravat curled his pinky finger and wiggled it with a lewd grin.


    "Better off than we are. He''s already in the mid dimensions. His girlfriend''s more foul mouthed than you and pretty powerful from what little I can gather," the young mage said.


    The middle aged woman frowned and Dr. Odd said, "Now, Aurora. The phoenix lady solved more problems than she caused in the end. With a little generosity, we can consider her one of the good ones."


    Gravat looked between Orison and the two triumvirates in surprise. "Stinky pinky landed the phoenix lady!? Maybe I should have been asking him for advice."


    While Aurora gave the shambling parody of hyper-masculinity another self positive pep talk, Orison handed the gift box to Dr. Odd and said, "Sammy told me to give you guys this."


    While Dr. Odd and Aurora were pawing through the box that contained three bottles of ''Doc Agave'' and a small share of medicines made from resources primarily obtained from his plane, Justice stood beside him.


    In a bitter, almost accusatory voice, the gray eyed man said, "Hinting around at secrets without saying anything, my attempts to help a youngster through this must have seemed pitiful to you. You probably know more than me."


    Orison shrugged helplessly. "It''s not so much a matter of what I know, it''s the things I don''t but need to that scare me. And believe me, Justice. You and your sister are the only reason I could make it this far. I can''t imagine the hardships I would have had to endure otherwise."


    Dr. Odd came up to them and said, "Do you know what the items in that box can do?"


    The young mage nodded while he said dramatically, "Nooo. Of course I don''t."


    The old magician sent Justice on a quick errand and then said, "New life extension items are a gift precious beyond counting. No one can know about them. Institutional dinosaurs like Aurora and myself have built up a resistance to just about every known and available ones there are. We aren''t the only ones.


    "If, by some chance, Sammy gave you some as well, find some covert way of dolling it out if you are so inclined. Once anyone notices the effect, tell them that you slipped them some ''Triple Seven''. It''s a relatively well known, recently made unavailable booster medicine that almost everyone beyond a certain level has already built up a tolerance for."


    The young mage readily agreed and thanked the old magician for his advice. After which Dr. Odd excused himself to share a toast with Aurora to wash the medicines down with. Several fully equipped personnel appeared from the woodwork to look after the two Triumvirate members as they sunk into a temporary stupor. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Orison asked Gravat how everything had turned out on Osomo.


    Through the long winded brag that followed, Orison managed to piece together a decent idea. Not much of anything changed. In a dramatic play of events, the four sisters and a few select First Family were sequestered in their floating city continuing to let the heart of Osomo keep the status quo. They were pouring over what Osomo''s drag net had collected over the years and were focused on becoming climbers.


    To the small group that had helped them personally, the sisters handed out some of the less desirable legacies and boundary items. The rest of the discard stash had been placed into the Osomo reward system. Since none of the remaining First Family had any particular desire to stay and the Heart of Osomo wasn''t something they had the ability to claim or even tamper with directly, they adopted a few of the surviving ''loyal'' from among the fallen families to act as custodians of the planet.


    Since Orison wasn''t there to receive any gratitude for his assistance to the sister''s plans, that gratitude trickled down to people like Mo and Mylar. The greater amount of Draconos adoptions might have had a little to do with it as well. Even the Nunnos family that had been stripped of a great deal of it''s glory, still hung by a thread because of Aiden and Bran Nunnos being spared the royal status purge. All because they had positive interactions with the young mage once and actively spoke against the pursuit of Stag and Orison.


    He thought to himself, "If they had any idea of the sheer amount of climber wealth we had ripped off from them, I doubt the sisters would have felt the same way. Thank you, Duran. And thank you, Wick!"


    Orison was thinking that he and the blue man might actually get along until, as if musing to himself, Gravat said, "I really looked forward to smashing you greasy once, maybe even rubbing one out with your guts while I thought about that Rino girl. She could really take it all, if you know what I mean. What am I saying? Of course you don''t."


    As the storm clouds built up in the back of Orison''s mind, Aurora said, "Oh, you did, sweet child. Not that last part but you did kill him three times. You didn''t survive long after. The strangest thing was that he seemed to adapt and his actions became more complicated, harder to predict with every new time. The fourth through the eighth times he managed to kill you before suicide to get the rest. If you believe yourself strong enough to relive the trauma of burning into ashes, erupting into radiation filled blisters and a litany of other more painful things, I could show you."


    The blue man looked a little pale for a moment before he said with a smirk, "No. That''s all right. Like you say, little mamma. I should just live my own truth and not worry about how I measure up. I am my own greatest opponent, right?"


    Aurora smile brightly and patted his arm before sauntering off, filled with satisfaction. After pulling off what little he had on and proudly swinging around his ''personal truth'' a couple of times, Gravat walked off deeper into the island with a satisfied look of his own.


    Orison rolled his eyes and as he turned towards Justice. "Jumping clown."


    Gravat''s parting superiority jab may have slid over the young mage but had found a susceptible target in the gray eyed man. Personal confidence was a private hell that didn''t want visitors. With no other reason to be there, to attempt emotional damage control in the only way he knew how, Orison was about to suggest they leave. He didn''t have patience left for any elbow rubbing time with the top brass and whoever else was frolicking about further inland anyway.


    A lavender eyed waif of a woman with a purple highlighted curtain of black hair that matched the drapes, distracted him from that thought. "In all the revelations and libations, Triumvir Aurora forgot to induct you into The Weird. Just think of it as the mystical, psionic equivalent of the UTF internet... Place your hand here and let me feel a touch of your... potent... spirit essence and I''ll show you how to... connect."


    The woman held Orison''s hand and moved it to her sheer, hides nothing, fabric covered chest. There was something predatory about her eroticism that kept Orison''s mild curiosity from becoming anything more. Still, he followed her directions even as her hand moved his to lower destinations. In the brief moment he felt his weak psionic talent touch a trembling web of other essence lines leading to a dense bundle of stored information, a third hand joined theirs.


    Pulling his focus to the world around him, the young mage saw that Justice stopped the woman from sending one of his fingers on an interesting but not entirely wanted journey at the moment. "That would count as an unprovoked supernatural assault, Juniper."


    Releasing Orison''s hand, she replied, "Not today. Not here and it never really has. Besides, in case you didn''t know, both he and I are ''scratch and sniffs''. Who knows if it even works on him?"


    Starting to get the idea, Orison looked down at his hand to see a small drop of clear liquid starting to seep in and under spirit vision, he could see that it was slowly infiltrating his capillaries. With no clear idea of what it was or what it could do, Orison brought out his trusty but slowly disintegrating dagger that hadn''t quite managed to survive the second boundary crossing. With a decisive swipe, he cut off the majority of a finger pad and part of the tip.


    While he worked on stopping the blood flow and cleaning the cut off piece of finger, a little nauseated from the sight of the wound, Juniper said, "I-it wasn''t that serious, alright! A little year of fun and I''d be out of your system. You know what... Have your your herm friend and his just as surgeon butchered sister show you the ropes. Since you''re such a prude like them, it would probably be just as boring a time."


    Summoning up a custom built block of character attacking vitriol to sling at her retreating back, he swallowed it down when he saw the hurt but still sympathetic look Justice gave her.


    "The sad thing is, I think I would have kind of liked the scene but with toxic people like her and the grape ape a part of it, I''ll hard pass. Please get me out of here, Justice," Orison said, feeling a little defeated for some reason.

 163 Country of Champions 14

    As Justice lead Orison around the main event areas and towards the lift, he said, "Quite a few of the pheromone producers who have control effects or narcotic-like withdraw symptoms, such as Juniper, suffer from Mosswife Syndrome. Over time, their victims build up a tolerance and start to have adverse reactions to being exposed to it. It has a wide range from registering the pheromones as an extremely unpleasant smell or even typical allergic responses. It makes it very hard for them to have long term relationships.


    "She''s a liaison to the UTF like my sister and I. We were accidentally exposed to her body fluids during a dorm rescue incident. A broad spectrum psionic had completely lost control of their gift... Her and my sister were never really more than friends but I... She said some hurtful things, I think, to cut it off quickly when I started breaking out in hives after we were... close. She''s a ''rip the band aid off'' type."


    Orison sighed. "I can appreciate that you have a soft spot for her. Maybe if I was in your shoes, I would too. But what would I have been looking at if I didn''t want to play games with her?"


    Reluctantly, Justice said, "It''s hard to tell. Worse case scenario would be a series of twenty shots over a three month period but I doubt it would be even close to that bad."


    Thoroughly cleaned, Orison called for a break while he reattached the missing part of his finger and healed it. There was a little loss of sensation that would take a couple of days to return and a scar line that would take a bit longer to fade away but it was otherwise functional.


    Looking pained to say it, Justice asked, "Do you want to file a compensation claim?"


    Blandly, Orison said, "No, but a notation stating that I''d prefer someone else if for some reason I needed to interact with her in a professional context would be appreciated."


    With what looked like a subtle sigh of relief, Justice quickly agreed to handle it. While he was logging the request on The Weird, the gray eyed man knocked out showing Orison how to connect as well.


    A quarter way up the lift, justice said, "I''ve received an update on your status. Please be calm. It''s nothing bad... For safety reasons, you''re being moved to Second Heaven."


    Alert, Orison said, "Be completely honest with me. Have they decided to stash me away like they did in the original plan?"


    The young mage frowned and said, "Give me your best reasoning behind why."


    Justice said, "It''s the logistics behind monitoring versus privacy needs. Because of certain low but constant risks you pose, you need to be monitored but because of certain secrecy protection acts, that monitoring would almost all be manual. That''s a lot of manpower only to keep a general eye on you that will likely be nothing but a waste of time and probably fail the moment it might actually be needed.


    "You''ve shown a lot of promise and been a good thing for Avalon. Above all but service to the greater good, we are a meritocracy. To that end, the Triumvirate has deemed this the best solution. Complete personal privacy is provided and threat mostly eliminated. Compromise to respect your needs and comfort will keep the relationship between you and Avalon positive and a space resource that''s currently being wasted will be put to use."


    Rubbing his forehead, Orison said, "Is there any other possible surprises I should be aware of?"


    Justice nodded. "In the case that the residence you selected is deemed more needful to another inhabitant of Avalon, you''ll need to move again. For that reason, if I were you, I''d select the lake house. It''s, in my opinion, the nicest and also the least unique. The mountainside home has significantly less usable space and was built to easily convert to multiple aviary styles. The other is mostly built into the terrain floor of the second level and was constructed to cater to an individual with greater strength that has difficulty pulling it back to a human level."


    Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, Orison said, "Sounds like I was given options that weren''t really options for the sake of itself."


    Frowning, Justice said, "When stated that way, it does appear so. Perhaps they meant it with good intentions but the dishonesty of that is quite disturbing."


    "It shouldn''t be. It''s basic psychology. Tell someone a specific place is their new home and they feel pressured. Give them a couple of unattractive options that make the original place seem a pleasant offer and the person takes it much more readily, sometimes even thankfully," Orison offered blandly.


    On the rest of the lift ride, Justice and Orison hashed out the finer details of the move and how it would affect things. Once they reached the top, both of them went to the dressing room and changed back into their original outfits. The young mage ended up waiting for Justice to come out.


    Upon seeing that he was still there, the gray eyed man said, "That was the end of what would have been Liberty''s duty. Since you didn''t decide to stay on the island, I doubt you need a chaperon to enjoy the water park... If you insist..."


    Orison chuckled. "No. I don''t need someone to hold my hand and show me around. I just wanted to let you know that I''m planning on having a home welcoming party for the person I redeemed from the irregulars. It''ll be next Saturday evening and I want you and your sister there. If I say there will be margaritas, do you understand why?"


    With a torn expression, Justice said, "If I can''t make it, I''ll make sure Liberty can."


    "Why wouldn''t you be able to make it?" Orison said.


    The gray eyed man said, "If I cover for my sister, best case scenario is two in the morning. There is no cap on worst case scenarios."


    The young mage said, "Get us to a spot with no visuals."


    A few moments later, in a changing room stall, Orison concentrated inward for a bit and then withdrew his hand from a waterproof tote. "Don''t take the note in there as a polite suggestion. Also, both of you need to figure out how to get to my room unseen. That buys you both til six and the cover story Dr. Odd gave me can still be bought. Since you''re a worst scenario kind of guy, expect to lose four hours afterwards. I doubt you and your sister have near the amount of tolerance buildup to such things as Aurora and Dr. Odd do."


    Justice nodded gravely as he clutched the tote with white knuckles.


    "I ask with purpose. Were you born a biologically functioning woman or a man?" the young mage asked with a steely face.


    Justice blanched but answered, "True half. If you''re asking for medical reasons, it isn''t fully genetics related but an expression of supernatural heritage."


    Orison frowned thoughtfully and said, "Give me the marker you got at the vendor."


    He stuck his hand back in the tote for a moment and the sound of marker squiggles.


    Putting the cap back on, he handed the marker to Justice and said. "I assumed your sister is the same. There are two sets of medicine in three different containers. They are marked in a way you can easily figure out what it means. The one marked with both favors your supernatural heritage over your mortal one which means I can''t rightly tell you what will happen because I don''t know and don''t believe I need to know anymore of your personal story...


    "All I ask is that you return what doesn''t get used. Take it right before the rest or it won''t be strong enough to give a full effect considering how much metaphysical punch will be needed. It''s probably a lot to think about but you have a week."


    Conflicted, Justice added, "You''re asking a lot of faith and trust from us."


    Orison just shrugged. "My conscience is satisfied that I''ve done what I need to do to be square with you and then some for all you''ve done for me. If you need some validation, ask Dr. Odd. He''d verify that you could snort a line of anthrax before taking the rest of that and have little worse than a sore nose, irritated lungs and a resistance to bacterial diseases to show for it. That said, don''t be adding anything to the mix. Results would only get more unpredictable."


    Feeling like he spent enough attention on an issue that made him uncomfortable no matter how open minded and ''woke'' he tried to be about it, Orison excused himself and left Justice with his thoughts. In an effort to shake off some mental exhaustion, he laid out a lounge chair on the clothing optional beach after finding that it was mostly empty. He didn''t remain alone for long.


    "I''ve never really gotten a good grip on how places like this work. Is it weirder to approach and set up shop near someone you kind of know and try to be social or to observe the maximum possible amount of personal space rules that guys follow in public bathrooms," Roy said, looking awkward with two arms fully loaded with stuff.


    Orison replied, "For me, right now? It depends on whether what''s in that cooler is actually cold and your willingness to share it if it is. I''m feeling supremely lazy at the moment."


    Relieved, Roy set up the lounge chair and spread his junk around it. "All the cheap beer a handful of people could want for the couple of hours it''ll be cold. Ran late trying to come armed and ready to make some new friends but only found a passed out old one and a bunch of kids with intake personnel babysitters... Oh well. It''s a day pass and I don''t have work tonight on this rotation."


    Orison weakly chuckled and said, "If you want some real excitement at the cost of jangled nerves, I could get you past the doorman by the entrance to the Islands of Truth. There''s a good deal going on EO Pan that''s probably going to keep it closed off to the public til tomorrow from what I caught glimpses of."


    The man shuddered and said, "I get enough up close time with Triumvirate subordinates during work. I think I''d rather go to the Island of Brutal Truth for a weekend and that expensive little vacation put a guy I know in therapy for a couple of months. His own damn fault. He crossed the territory line of it''s permanent, live-in staff on a dare and got too authentic an experience.


    "Now, it''d be great if you could drop me off on Naked Truth and they let me stay after the public seal lifted. I probably wouldn''t be able to hang for long but I''d give it my best try... Two more years of graveyard and I get to go to days. I can''t believe Turner signed for another two. The little retirement kicker doesn''t seem worth it at all."


    The young mage laid back and played passive listener, soaking up nuggets of information between the woes of a planar response team member. He was a bit shocked to find out that Roy was only twenty-four. He looked slightly older than Turner and that man was twenty-eight but looked a little prematurely aged himself. There were probably some heavy costs to some of the equipment that Roy used for his work.


    Feeling a little sympathy and a touch of gratitude for some of the pearls of wisdom Roy threw his way, Orison said, "Do you still have Sunday off next week?"


    The equipment guy said, "I''m on call but pretty low on the list."


    The young mage offered, "Saturday night I''m going to be having a welcoming party for the guy I redeemed. It''s not going to be anything big and it''s probably going to be a bachelor hell but I''m shelling out for good eats and drinks. If you just want to swing by for the main event but have other stuff you''d like to do before hand, best time would be a few minutes before midnight."


    Roy thought it over and said, "Why not. I''ll swing by this retired cockroach''s place, exchange a little stress relief and then head to your place."


    "Sounds like you have a plan... What''s a retired cockroach?" the young mage said with a confused smile.


    Suddenly looking a little ashamed of himself, Roy said, "A rude label that good people don''t like to hear."


    A deep but conversely youthful voice said, "A Rowdy chaser that caught more than one with the baby trap. They live off of child support or survivor''s benefits and upgrade from a cockroach to a retired cockroach when one of their kids grow up and become a Rowdy."


    Face red from sun and embarrassment, Roy said, "Garret, you know I wasn''t- I mean-"


    With a weak smile, Garret cut him off. "My mom knows what she is. Sometimes I think she''s proud of it. Honestly, when you look and see that almost a third of the current Rowdies roster is made up of cockroach kids, maybe she should be. It''s not like there''s a line of so called respectable women looking to start up anything serious with a ''scarecrow''."


    Seeing the young mage''s puzzled expression, the hulking teen said, "Scarecrows are the rank and file of the Rowdies. Broad spectrum C-class physical augments mostly. You could make a book outta this stuff... Just explaining things so don''t get bent about it, Roy... A behind the back term for Roy would be a roman candle and some might call Turner a C-weed."


    Roy sighed and said, "I won''t but let me say what they mean... It''ll sting less. They call me a roman candle because people who do what I do are usually seen as flunkies not quite gifted enough to be core or a Rowdy. No eye catching trait to pull me into support.


    "With a decent spread of spiritual or physical augment and a little technical schooling, you can sell your years to the rift sealer or some other life stealing device to keep from the farm, factory or service industry... But I am exactly what I set out to be. And Turner might be a spotty broad spectrum C-class that could have made the Rowdies if he busted his rump but he chose to be planar response team from the get go. He wanted a chance of making something like a real family. He didn''t fall to the weeds."


    Garret ended up being fairly knowledgeable about things in his own way and the three chatted some before the noon announcement/ event advertisements were given. Even something as simple as sunbathing was capable of pointing out obvious differences between them. Roy had flipped himself about as many times as he could without becoming well-done all over while Garret was only showing the slightest bit of redness under his already slightly tanned skin. As for Orison, a random passerby would think he had just laid out.


    Right as Roy really had no choice but to call it quits, the young mage hit him with a healing and asked for the man''s coldest in the cooler as compensation. Right as they lapsed into a comfortable silence, it was broken by a bird-like woman''s voice speaking broken Common made worse by obvious nervousness. It was the waiting room girl from the dorm''s mother.


    After she had introduced herself as Maria Espinal, the mother of Celeste, she went on to thank him profusely for signing over his merit purchased house rights and services for her and the three girls she''d be taking care of. Orison explained that it was only an attempt to see them not go to waste. Most of it was non-transferable or refundable for various reasons.


    In the face of her tearful gratitude, he almost felt bad how he''d done it mostly out of whim. Mainly to keep Rio from making absurd requests, it was also because Celeste''s familiar, Rocky, somewhat started to resemble a spectral copy of the eternium core golems he''d made once. With a lot of the false and foreign memories stripped away, things that inspired nostalgia for his time on Amoril was almost absurdly strong.


    It turned out that she had been a chiropractor''s assistant and knew her way around a back and its muscles. Despite being a mundane, she had a strong set of hands and Orison found himself surprised as he fought off a momentary desire to slip into half trance, it was so relaxing. Seeing that the young mage enjoyed it so much, Roy weaseled a realigning massage out of her too with a promise to advertise among his friends.


    With Roy otherwise engaged, Orison noticed that there was an antsy impatience that began edging into Garret as time slipped by and their little social activity drew to a natural close. Politely parting ways with Roy, he endured another round of thanks from Maria. Seeing that Garret was keen to follow but trying to find some reasonable excuse to, Orison decided to be nice and ask the teen if he knew a good place to get lunch in the water park.


    It was obvious that Garret had some kind of difficult request to ask but Orison had questions of his own. He had a lot more to gain by hearing the savvy teen out. And ultimately, a firm ''no'' didn''t take too much effort if it came down to it.

 164 Country of Champions 15

    "So I think I''m starting to get this. A caramel apple is 100 merits but a serving of caramel tipped apple slices is five because of the healthy choices initiative. A sirloin steak is 800, a two piece fried chicken dinner is 200 and a two piece baked chicken dinner is forty. Bottom to the middle because of the same initiative. Either to the first because of luxury import. Are there not friggin cows around anywhere? I see that milk isn''t blasted so hard," Orison said, a little frustrated over perceived abuse of propaganda in merit gauging.


    Garret shrugged his large shoulders, looking for all the world like the all-beef patty cheeseburger was making love to his taste buds. "Meh. You can keep a cow milking for years but you can only butcher them once. You want to know heartbreak? Eat the ''Four Square'' basic food assistance for a year straight. The morning train leaves the station at six and arrives at it''s final destination around two pm like clockwork. Last class doesn''t end until 2:30 and over half the kids are on it. Trying to find an open bathroom stall if you aren''t the first one out the door is a death race.


    "The after puberty calorie increase makes you fat if you eat it all but don''t exercise like you''re a Rowdies hopeful and you can get sick if you skip the wrong parts a few times in a row. They''re constantly fiddling with it too. So, it can throw a surprise at any time. Most of them are not good surprises.


    "One of the handful of times throughout the history of Avalon that the UTF cited us for crimes against the people was because of the basic meal program. Nine years ago, when it happened, guess who was on it... This guy. The muscles have been a little too puffy ever since. Still, I feel blessed. There were a few guys who started lactating."


    Orison slid his tray to the side and said, "Alright, I''ve watched you chew through nearly a pound of very expensive cow I thankfully did not have to pay for. Since it''s so hard to ask whatever it is you''re taking your time warming up to, I''ll go first. When I''m done, spit it out. The worst I''m going to say is no. I''ll factor in the large duffel bag full of useful skills you subtly drew attention to without directly bragging about into whatever deliberation you need me to make. That fair?"


    Garret sat the cheeseburger down and dry swallowed painfully looking enough to make the young mage''s throat hurt. The apparently puffy muscled teen nodded slowly. Orison wanted to laugh at the stressful job interview level of anxiety the teen was throwing off but managed not to by wondering just how difficult the request was going to be.


    Garret took a minute to calm himself back down and collect his thoughts. "Day one was a bad show. He did everything the instructors and trainers expect a spoiled mage to do except cry. Day two on, he 180''d. He started playing smart and feeling out potential partners that cover his gaps, that have gaps he can cover. It''s what got Trisha''s attention.


    "Biggest obstacle is, he has a mundane body and most mages take too long to cover that in Rowdies Accelerator. I can get him past third hill if he gets me past second hill. Each is three months. So, that buys nine for him to figure a way to survive solo at the end of the first week on first wave... Three hills, three waves and three summits. You''ll be hearing about it til you''re sick of hearing about it soon.


    "Easy girls, parties with gray area entertainment, shady supplements and the general sabotage that happens behind the scenes every time some elite''s kid comes up for elimination are always there. Any and all mistakes goes for all of us. There''s a lot of grown men who fall for the stuff that Rowdies Accelerator kids have to somehow avoid but that''s why there''s the second chance called Rowdies standard. Female Rowdies have the protection and guidance of the Blue Rose Committee but we''re lucky to have a grizzled old trainer to kick us where it counts, when it matters.


    "It''s a meat grinder. The need for a certain number usually ends up just a little more important than getting best quality. When someone falls through the cracks, they don''t have time to look back. They''ll just grab the next in line and shove them in. The old schools like to point at the better survival rate and performance of Rowdies standard as a way of saying the system''s fine the way it is."


    Orison held up a finger and thought on that for a moment, then said, "I hear all the C-class this and that. What about the Ds and Bs in all of this?"


    Garrret said, "You might find a D-class in front line support, usually medical. Broad spectrum D-class are the rank and file of Planar Response and Off World Affairs. There''s a few B-class sprinkled around but if you see one in the Scarecrows instead of in charge, there''s a good chance they''re a screw-up, a lesser one that they''re being groomed but it''s real obvious which is which pretty fast.


    "If you want to make that nasty term of the day calendar complete, their equivalent to C-weed is D-ject and B-tard... You''re from the UTF side originally so I''ll give you a heads up. Never and I mean never say A-hole out loud unless it''s to tell someone not to say it. Here, it means a selfish upper elite that eats up resources but doesn''t do anything except cause problems. It''s practically an accusation of treason in Avalon and they WILL NOT let it slide."


    While the young mage mulled over the information and made plans, he told Garret to either finish his burger or get it to go. He explained that he didn''t make a comment about how much the teen was eating to make the poor guy feel bad. He even joked about the time he''d eaten like a pig over the course of a few days minus the context that would let Garret know it happened on another world.


    Meal done with a couple of to-go orders wrapped and ready to carry away, Orison said, "Moment of truth time. You got my attention and you''ve helped enough that no matter what it is you want to say, I''ll at lest hear you out."


    After taking a couple of shaky breaths, Garret said, "Behind the merit system there''s another important one that most touch on but don''t really understand well. Some people have access to things that others aren''t or have more of something that others have much less of. Sometimes it''s things that are hard to put a value to like living in an area that has access to personal equipment and training facilities, away from dangerous distractions and makes visitation require approval...


    The teen gave Orison a pointed look before continuing, "It''s just as much a part of life in Avalon as the merit system is. When these perks are spread around in ways that help everybody involved, it''s called perk trading. Sometimes, to get it done, situations can be a little weird but everyone knows it for what it is when they see what''s going on. There isn''t much that hasn''t been done before... So... No one REALLY cares but people can be a little mouthy if they see someone getting something they don''t have or getting something they DO have but a little easier."


    As the teen set up to deliver his request, Orison noticed that Garret was showing signs of becoming a little embarrassed.


    Gathering up his resolve, Garret finally got to the point, "I, uh, want to know if you''d become my temporary guardian. It would only be for a few months and like I was saying before..."


    Garret started launching back into a recap of what he was bringing to the table and talking faster by the moment, as if packing more in might improve his chances. Orison let him run on for a little while and finally raised his hand. The teen immediately clamped his mouth shut and gave the young mage his full attention, practically screaming ''Look at how obedient I am.''


    Eyes closed, Orison pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why? I''ve already got a decent idea of what you''re offering and a pretty good idea of what I can offer you but what I don''t know is why you NEED it. And as much as a lot of people would probably jump at the opportunity if I was advertising my willingness, you came and sold me on the idea like your life depended on it. I want truth, Garret. Ugly or not, you have a better chance of me agreeing if you don''t try to cover up things with convenient lies or half-truths."


    The teen looked down at his to-go box that Orison let him order to share with his mom and siblings. "Mom was good to us and even if she liked to have a little too much fun when I was little, she never took something that we needed to do for herself. Even when she had us do things that were a little strange, they''d usually be good things for us in the long run... She''s getting to that age where people who do what she does is supposed to be finding a nice roman ca-, er, equipment specialist to settle down with. That''s how it''s supposed to work.


    "Maybe she''s going through a mid-life crisis or some kind of denial but when an opportunity presented itself, she took it when she would have been more cautious. You see, she works part time at a garage as a desk person and when a B-class couple stopped by to get their car looked at, she saw that there was a canister from a nearby fertility clinic in it. I don''t want to get graphic about it but she sampled the goods and it turned into a nightmare because it was a privacy protected donation.


    "As soon as Little Casey''s old enough to eat solid foods, the couple''s going to drop charges in exchange for adoption. I can''t prove it but my trip up out of accelerator into standard was a warning from the donor to my mom, I think... Turner and Gina are the only people who even treat her like a friend anymore... I need to distance myself from that so I can have a smooth start to my career. It''s the best way I can help mom and my little sister later.


    "It''s not just that. The girl I brought today? She was my mom''s baby sitter. I caught her in our bathroom doing something with a personal item I don''t want to talk about. She doesn''t know it but I invited her to come with me here to lower her guard and slip her a plan b. That probably sounds bad but believe me. I never did anything with her, much less something I should have to take responsibility for!"


    Wearing his best poker face, Orison said, "The way I heard it, she was your girlfriend this week. It gave me the impression that you like to change up a lot."


    Garret spluttered a little but said, "The more you try to not have a girlfriend the more hopefuls you get pestering you and the more grimy the motives are for the ones that keep trying. Maybe it wouldn''t be so bad if I could be colder but... It''s not a thing. After Little Miss Mission Impossible, I''m going to be an iron angel until I get past the third wave. A lonely year max is worth it to keep from becoming a C-weed."


    While Garret was spilling his guts, the young mage was using The Weird to research him. "Wow, he made it to the halfway point but his partner let him fall during ''Second Wave''. Three hills, three waves and three summits...Alright, I get it now... This bit of visuals is a bit fuzzy... Damn, no wonder he fell. He gave everything he had to keep that guy from being swarmed and then was just abandoned before he could catch his breath. Someone pulled strings to get that nasty piece of work to Third Wave."


    Once he was finished skimming through Garret''s history, he read up on legalities and responsibilities of an acting guardian. Seeing that the silence was stretching out too long and the poor teen looked like he was about to get sick from nerves or too much rich food, Orison stopped.


    "I have secrets, Garret. So does Rio. Until we know we can trust you, there might be times you have to take a walk or make yourself busy elsewhere. As long as you can keep yourself from taking that personally and as long as you don''t do anything to break the process of building trust, we''ll give it a shot," the young mage said.


    Before Garret could get too excited, he added, "It''s just for you. I can sympathize with your position but this offer does not extend out to them through you in any way. I''ll help you build the life raft to throw them but you''re going to have to steel yourself to watch them flap in the water for awhile. Avalon might watch your mom drown but there are safety nets for your little sister. Can you do that?"


    Garret thought about it and said, "I don''t know."


    "No one really does until they''re put to the test. I appreciate the honesty," Orison took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, "That aside, if I tell you to jump what do you say?"


    The teen said, "Which plane am I going to?"


    The young mage looked at Garret speechless for a moment and then said, "Well, I would have accepted ''How high?'' but that works too, I guess. I don''t plan on being that bad of a hard a** but if I do give out the rare order, I expect it to be followed if I haven''t given you any reason to doubt you should.


    "Since that''s settled, we should probably go find Liberty and your mom to get this started. Is there any reason why she''d say no? I can still talk to Liberty about it but if your mom doesn''t agree, it''s going to be a slow process."


    Garret replied, "I doubt it. Once I got knocked out of Accelerator, all of my subsidies are controlled by the education board and directed through the standard program. It''s not like she''d be losing much of anything. Once I''ve explained everything, I''m sure she''ll be able to see how big of an opportunity this is for me."


    Finding a newfound love for having access to The Weird, Orison contacted Liberty and explained the situation. She was already preparing for their 2:00PM meeting that he had all but forgotten about. So, she volunteered to find Janet, Garret''s mom, and hash out the details ahead of time.


    Since there was plenty of time, the young mage decided to check in with Rio and spend a few minutes going over things before leaving the teenager to doing whatever it was he and Daphne had planned. Since transportation was already on standby for the two, no special arrangements had to be made. And since Rio was still technically on a date/program partner picking thing, Orison didn''t want to interfere any more than he had to.


    When he found Rio, Orison made sure that the teen knew what was going on and that the transportation would only be available til eight. The kid was more than a little disappointed that he didn''t even get the chance to try swinging for independence and would have to be carted off to Second Heaven as well. But after he found out it was three girls from the dorm they were rescued from and one of the girl''s mothers, he surprised Orison by not only being okay with it but wholeheartedly supporting it. Seeing how Daphne was looking at the little crowing rooster like he was some kind of saint and how Rio was eating it up, the young mage realized that a good girl could at least make a little heathen WANT to be better.


    While Garret was trying to politely break off the rest of his ''date'' with the girl he brought, a teen who liked his red a little too much said, "Dude, you''re supposed to be over here with us. Why did you ditch your girl on Rio and dip? I mean, I know she''s like a flavor of the week from the roach colony but damn, bro. That''s cold and stupid."


    Garret just ignored it and continued trying to get a taxi to the subway terminal only to find out that his date had borrowed it from his rented locker without asking and left it with his mom. How she had managed to get it out was a mystery but just like the insult from ''Red'', he let it roll off his back and asked to borrow someone''s.


    His date said, "Why are you trying so hard to get rid of me? I thought we might, you know, later. Do I embarrass you or something? I notice you didn''t defend me when Faux Hawk threw shade at me."


    ''Red'' said, "He didn''t say anything because I can beat him on the mats and I can sure as hell beat him off the mats."


    Despite trying to shrug it off, Garret was in a losing battle with temper that Orison only understood too well.


    He said, "I got it Garret, your date''s taxi is number thirty-seven."


    Right as the teen with the red faux hawk was mouthing off again, Orison said, "Shut it, jumping clown." almost in harmony with a doll faced blond with a severe case of resting bitch face who said, "Zip it, clown."

 165 Country of Champions 16

    The girl gave Orison the faintest of smiles before returning to ice queen mode.


    ''Red'' was about to mouth off to the girl before he thought twice and turned to the young mage. Before the guy was halfway through his ten second dress down of what he thought about Orison, he was being escorted out by security because his comped day pass was invalidated.


    As ''Red'' was escorted out, he said, "Dude! You''re Cantrip? Why didn''t you just say so. Yeah, okay. I was just clowning. You don''t need to kick me out. I''m sorry, alright. Garret, tell him it''s cool."


    Seeing that the hulking teen was actually thinking about letting everything slide, Orison said, "Today''s word is final. I''ll give you a second chance if there''s a reason to but it isn''t going to be today and it certainly won''t be on the mat come Monday."


    From the distance the kid shouted, "You''re right. Real men make friends after fighting. See you on Monday... S-snowman!"


    The young mage sighed and muttered, "I''m not so sure what makes a ''real'' anything anymore. Oddly, I''m okay with that."


    Turning towards everyone, he put on his best social smile and said, "I''m not that pale am I?"


    No one present quite knew what to say to that after Orison kicked one of them out and looked to Rio who also wasn''t sure what to say for different reasons only really known to himself.


    To keep the silence from becoming too awkward, Daphne said, "Well, you''re not goth or punk rock pale. I''d say more like a... healthy pale, like an old blood aristocrat or something.


    He thought, "Bless your heart, sweet girl. I know you mean well."


    Realizing that he''d kind of accidentally killed the chicken to scare the monkeys, Orison made his goodbyes after Garret finally convinced his teary-eyed date to go home. Making their way over to Liberty, Orison glanced over to find that the hulking teen looked a little tired and possibly a little worried. Considering the emotional roller coaster the guy''s life had been lately, it wasn''t hard to see why.


    By the time they had made it to where Liberty and Janet were waiting, it was obvious that things hadn''t been peaceful. Between the silver haired woman and Turner''s wife, Garret''s mom was calmed down if a little red eyed.


    Janet took the initiative as soon as she saw the young mage. "Alright, little big shot. You want my boy to help you and your Rio kid past the second hill? 300,000."


    Confused, Orison responded, "You want me to pay his educational debt? It''s not out of the question. Let''s give it a couple of weeks and...Wait, his subsidies should have paid for that right?"


    She looked at Orison like he was a moron. "Not to the system, to me."


    Red faced from shame and a little anger, Garret said, "Mom! I asked him! I just wanted a quiet place away from everything so I can focus on making it to where I need to be for us!"


    Seeing the flow of things and getting a little itch in the back of his mind, Orison used The Weird to ask Liberty to check the activity on Garret''s touch screen the last hour it had bounced between the babysitter and Janet. To buy some time, the young mage continued to act ignorant of the real motivations.


    He said, "If it''s that, I don''t mind giving him the same allowance as Rio gets as long as he helps around the place and more if I need him for any actually work. If you''re worried about me taking advantage, we could have Liberty draw up some conditions for the guardianship assuring that he gets fair compensation and a little extra on top. She could even supervise me opening an account for him that I would only be authorized to make deposits to.


    "Some people might think you''re being a bit harsh or unreasonable but I think it''s smart that you''re thinking two steps ahead. You don''t know me and it''s fair to assume it''s possible that even if I didn''t have some kind of bad motivation now, that might not always be true. Assuming the best of me, it''s not out of the question to believe he''d be a help and that deserves something more than just a place to sleep and study or train."


    Realizing she couldn''t hustle Orison without being plain about what she wanted and why or he''d just flip it on her, she said. "It''s not for him. It''s for Babs..." Seeing Orison smile and take in a breath, she quickly added, "And yeah, some for me too. You''re taking the last year I have with my son before he goes off and maybe dies like his father. The system might have took over for the last year or so but I was there for the first fifteen. Gym memberships and junior trainers, I got him to the starting line."


    She wasn''t finished but Garret cut in, "Yeah, mom. It was gym memberships and junior trainers but how many times did you patch a pair of my shoes and open a box of shiny reds or blacks the next week to ''go dancing'' in? Yeah, you tickled a few chins to keep me out of trouble when I messed up but you dug in their wallets too and that''s WHY I''d get into trouble even if I didn''t do anything wrong...Teachers marry teachers, mom. So, while you were playing pocket pool with the Math teacher, his Language Comprehension wife was decorating my book report into a hell of red check marks! Don''t sa-"


    Orison said in a low but commanding tone, "Garret, get your touch screen from your mom''s...bag?... and hand it to Liberty."


    Mother and son''s attention snapped to the young mage and as Garret moved to do it, Janet suddenly started pitching a fit, telling off Orison for ordering her son around and Liberty for abusing the authority she was given on personal matters.


    The silver haired woman asked Garret, "Are any of the activities logged on this device while in the possession of others over the last two hours, authorized by you in any way?"


    Confused but scared about what the girl or his mother could have done, he said, "No. I had it locked up but Macy got it out somehow."


    While a tired Turner held Janet back until a security personnel for the park took over, Liberty continued, "Then you have two choices. You can press charges or you can have the activities for the last hour erased. The small amount of purchases that were made can''t be refunded without charges but the purchaser will be changed to the one who did so and logged on their own accounts after visual confirmation is confirmed."


    Janet''s shrieks tapered off and with thick streams of tears and between sobs, she said, "Baby, just erase it. It was stupid but I thought I was going to lose you. I was scared that after you made it so far, you were going to forget about me... about Babs. I''m always so scared you''re going to go out there and I''ll never see you again."


    "Is that why you helped Macy try to bag me up? Mom, I''m still in first hill... and I''m not Accelerator anymore. Something like that could disqualify me from the program," Garret said, more heartbroken than angry.


    Seeing that this was going to drag on and only allow a chance for more dirty laundry to be aired in public, Orison said, "Don''t engage. Set your terms and get your distance. You keep dancing in her zone she''s going to find some weak spot and poke it til you fold."


    The whole time, she was begging for her son to not listen to Orison and to talk to her. "Baby, you can''t do this. They''ll take Babs away from me and put me in the Irregulars."


    Swallowing down the pain, Garret said, "Then let me go. All you have to do is take the hooks out yourself and I don''t have to cut them out."


    After all of that, she still insisted on 100,000. She claimed this or that reason but the truth was, she actually did need at least half that because demerits she payed out over the last few months came from Babs'' allotment and the part time job she had counted on to pay it back had cut her loose. On top of that, the minimum interest repayment on her merit debt was about to dip too far into future allotment funds. She was walking a very fragile tightrope.


    Orison said, "Last offer from my side before Garret is forced to make a choice that will leave him miserable no matter what he chooses. I''ll put 100,000 into his little sister''s allotment fund as replacement at 10,000 a month but you''re going to give up all rights to Garret. As long as you stop this rolling snowball of stupid and get your head straight, you can squeak by the three month cool off for misappropriation of employee privileges. You''ll have another six to find a job... I don''t know what you think you''re doing but you''re screwing up your kids'' lives and I don''t give a damn how you justify it."


    The last hammer that cracked her front act was Liberty''s final statement. "I can''t ignore this. Even if you agree to this arrangement, Ms. Daniels, you''ll be placed on the children service watch list."


    Crying the whole time, Janet signed the e-documents on Liberty''s touchscreen before it was Orison''s turn. Reluctantly, Gina patted her back when Janet turned to sob into her shoulder. Judging by the hard look that passed between Turner and his wife, it would probably be the last time too.


    When Orison looked at Garret, it was easy to see that he wasn''t in a good place, emotionally. "Hey, I know you''re not going to be in the mood to hear it but follow through is important. You got something for your mom and Babs, right? I think you should still give it to them with the same feelings you got it. If you can force yourself to be the bigger person now, you''ll be able to feel better about things later, no matter how they turn out."


    Garret looked at the to-go containers and back at his mom. Talking to her was too much but his little sister that wasn''t too far away was more than easy. He needed to say some things to her anyway. From where he was standing, Orison couldn''t hear what they were saying to each other but the cool, weary looks mirrored on their faces meant that they had been preparing for a day like this for some time.


    They did get much time before, to Gina''s relief, Janet ''tore'' herself from her friend''s ''comforting arms'' and drove her ''traitor son'' away from his ''innocent'' sister. Babs was still quite young but not so much so that she didn''t know what was going on. The cold look on the preteen girl''s face when looking at her mother gave Orison chills. It was pure annoyed ambivalence. The kind of look one would give to a bug that crawled on their shoe, not another person.


    As Garret slowly walked back to Orison, Babs used the recoil her look caused Janet to run past her mother and after the hulking teen. After tapping her big brother on the back she held out her fist, bumped it with his and whispered something. Garret smiled and returned looking a little lighter.


    "Mom has a lineage preservation account opened on my behalf. Could you request it to be closed down, uh, Mr. Cantrip?" Garret asked.


    As soon as Orison was done politely requesting to just be called by first name with a slightly disturbed face, Liberty said, "Under the mandatory logged complaint, such an account would be frozen... Forgive the unintended pun... Any recent activity would be taken into consideration if further complications arise... Once again, I apologize. It''s unintentional."


    Considering her deadpan delivery, the young mage believed her. The slight snicker despite the teen''s emotional distress was welcomed regardless. It allowed for Orison and Liberty to get through their meeting before Garret''s inevitable moment of brooding began that he tried to hide with a well trained neutral face.


    As far as the meeting itself, it was relatively quick. Orison handed over some sensitive but still legal, if barely, goods for Liberty to convert into merits. Once the finer details of how that would be done were worked out, he brought to her attention four names of people he''d ''researched'' out that had looked into his UTF renewed identity and it''s subsequent panning on news channels.


    He said, "These are a list of people who have made inquiries on me that I vaguely recognize. It could be false memories or confusion. So, I''m not sure of anything. I''d like to arrange to meet them to see if that turns into more like it did with Gravat. Yes, you''ll hear from your brother that Triumvir Aurora''s current... adjunct?... That recognized me and probably got me labeled as a walk-in. I think that calling me an incarnate or transmigrate might be more accurate.


    "Whatever the case. It''s obviously a sensitive topic that the Triumvirate are already aware of and have kept silent about, which I appreciate. I trust you and your brother to do the same... I will notify Avalon if I remember or see anything that would endanger or jeopardize-"


    She interrupted, "It''s alright. You trust us and have given us no reason to distrust you. I''ll see what I can do to get a visitation prepared for these people. How important is expedition of this process and how much of your merits can you dedicate to it? Since it''s personal affairs, I''m afraid that without a clear admission of blood relations, there''s no assistance the system can provide you for this."


    Orison said, "Everything you''ve got there. If it''s not enough to cover, then prioritize them in this order..."


    Liberty looked at the four IDs in The Weird that Orison had pulled up. "Why this one first? The other three look far more stable to me."


    The young mage said with a smirk, "Of the four, he''s one of the two independents and... well... don''t you think he just looks cooler than the rest?"


    "He looks like a criminal... Stag Nunnos... If he chose to change his name based off his appearance, that''s tacky," Liberty denounced with a sigh.


    Shrugging Orison said, "If he turns out to be an easy person to talk to, you could ask. If you were a gambling woman, which I know you''re not, I think even you would bet he has an interesting story."


    Before they parted ways, the young mage insisted on her ten percent commission which she accepted without the fuss of last time. He was kind of surprised but he really had put her to work and he felt she definitely deserved it. It occurred to him that Justice may not have had a chance to tell her about ''Midnight Margaritas'' yet either.


    "It just dawned on me that you don''t have an easy way to get stuff you might need immediately without going back home... That''s not advisable... Would you be alright sporting some water park apparel for a couple of days til we can get that ironed out? I know it''s kind of weird but-" Orison explained before Garret quickly cut him off to agree.


    After the unsealing of the park, Orison discovered the limits of ''all expense paid''. Apparently, he wasn''t going as all out as was expected of someone holding a diamond pass because he''d only put a nice dent in the 100,000 merit gift limit. Between getting Garret, Rio and himself some surprisingly nice swag, it started disappearing pretty quick.


    True to the nature of Avalon, there might have been some ridiculous mark-up but apparel and high end personal items from the park had a great deal more ''merit'' than as novelty items. Some specialty training and vacations did take place at the park. So, there was even a limited amount of gear and a decent spread of overpriced toiletries. The young mage even managed to uncover another important mechanism of the merit system through the experience.


    Taking too much goods away from one place incurred fines. Owning more than a certain amount of something also incurred fines. No matter how much merits someone had, Avalon did it''s best to make sure that everyone had a shot at getting something and discouraged resource hogging pretty aggressively. Orison respected and even liked that but he wasn''t so happy about being embarrassed at a vendor counter and needing his new charge to come and sign ownership of some goods to keep the fines from becoming official.


    "I''m telling you, Garret. Getting a little high from buying stuff on someone else''s account is not just a woman thing. Look at me, just cheesing away," the young mage said with a wide grin that the hulking teen shared.


    Spending rush dwindling in the back of the long cab taking them to the nearest short range teleport center, Garret smile slipped to a dim one. "I-I''m sorry for how all this turned out. If I knew, I wouldn''t have had the nerve to ask... Whatever you wa-"


    Orison stopped him. "Don''t even finish saying that thought out loud. Dealing with some ground level drama was practically refreshing after what I went through before we hung out. All you asked for was a chance to spend a few months somewhere away from crazy so you could keep your eye on the prize. Your mom''s the one who made it all complicated and proved just how bad you needed what you originally thought you were asking for."


    Whatever Garret was about to say was interrupted by a chime from his touchscreen. When the teen looked at it, he trembled in anger and sheer disbelief a couple of times before a single tear slipped past his control. Considering how much the guy had endured from his mom and still held it together, Orison had no idea what could hit so hard and fast to break him from a single glance at a screen.

 166 Country of Champions 17

    Garret numbly laid the touchscreen on his lap and looked out the window, struggling but gradually succeeding to reel it back in. Preoccupied with personal thoughts, he either didn''t know or didn''t care that Orison looked over and saw the text with picture attachment.


    The contents were pretty simple. Babs was informing him of what she had managed to hide away as their mom packed up what could be traded in for merits and tearing up what couldn''t. The interesting thing was the focus of the picture. It wasn''t anything of great value that she thought he needed to personally see but an old gaming console, nearly as old as Garret himself, that had been patched, glued and unconventionally fixed more times than it had any right to. The pop up lid had been laid to the side and a cheap kitchen knife could be seen rammed through the laser track with a few more puncture holes surrounding it.


    The caption underneath read, "Can it be fixed?"


    A few seconds of ''in through the nose, out through the mouth'' later, Garret texted back that it couldn''t and she responded that she was calling her grandpa. Orison was secondhand sad for them. He wasn''t sure what the old console meant to them but it obviously was a lot more than face value.


    Checking himself, Orison realized that he was getting mad, and not just a little bit. The orphan from Amoril had no context to understand on an emotional level what could be so special about the old console but Al definitely could and that part of himself was causing a little projection of exaggerated empathy.


    The young mage thought, "You ARE still in there!"


    After doing a quick search on The Weird, he said, "Driver, we need to make a detour to Home Entertainment Commissary H4-12. The delay will only be a half hour or less."


    The lady driver said, "Kid, you got me til five if you like. With a three hour window from the moment you stepped into the back there, I could take you to Second, back here and still get you to short range teleport. This is a 3T tagged vehicle. So, we can use the tubes in it. Nothing would tickle me more than to sit on my can and let the vac-mag tunnels do the driving for a quarter of my workday."


    Orison said, "What about Rio?"


    The somewhat plain but curvy lady in comfy looking professional clothes said, "Please. I''ve gotten three visual reports on the kid. The only way he''s not going to play ''beat the clock'' at 7:59 is because he had to go to the hospital. He don''t need ME for that!"


    "Oh. Alright, then," the young mage said, unsure how to respond to that.


    Can of conversation opened, the lady said, "What you kitting for?"


    Orison''s gears ground a little. "Kitting? Oh, uh, latest game console and some games. Maybe a living room monitor upgrade."


    "You want to upgrade monitoring to private, you said? Okay," the lady blurted cheekily.


    "That''s like, 200k to keep me from having to act all prim and proper under visuals for a good two hours. Two hours of the six I''ll be spending waiting for that half cooked shrimp to get fully cooked and decide he''s had enough water slides and necking in the changing room."


    Orison checked his account and saw that his debt was gone but LeStrange hadn''t added anything to his actual account yet. "Do I get any kind of relocation funding at all?"


    She said, "Sorry kid. Unless you dropped a million or more, fat chance, you can''t because the place you''re getting is locked and loaded merit free."


    Orison coughed. "Let''s assume I did. Would claiming that, void the original lease agreement? I sort of signed it over to an intake hard case, her daughter and the two other girls she''s taking in."


    She said, "First of all, don''t be dumb again. Never lock a house down until you got your post papers. Secondly, if you signed it over then it''s gone, little buddy. Thirdly, it just so happens that your ridiculous act of charity just might be worth a 100k return for every mil it cost you. Let me log a request...


    "What the hell you do before you came to Avalon, find El Dorado!? Don''t answer. I don''t want to know... You barely squeaked by 200K but there''s a little note saying that they won''t approve things like premium satellite, full service housekeeping and daily catered meals as acts of charity in the future."


    Through his gloomy funk, Garret summoned the emotional energy to give Orison a disbelieving and slightly judgmental look.


    He said, "Don''t look at me. They gave Rio 300,000 access to my account before I finished intake and I think he was bent on spending it all before I got there."


    Solidly out of low fund danger for the time being, Orison reluctantly agreed to the driver''s proposal. True to her word, a few misleading but completely true statements from her while they were in the commissary and the guy putting the upgrade package together mistook the young mage for an A-class elite being kept under wraps. Once the guy gave him an installation date and handed him the devices he could take with him, they were on their way to the ''tube''.


    "Won''t that commissary guy get in trouble for making that mistake?" he asked.


    She said, "Under normal circumstances, yes. But don''t sweat it. This time he''ll only get a halfhearted slap on the wrist."


    Orison thought. "Why? Is it because the mistake wasn''t really a mistake? Probably tooting my own horn too much. Still, it''s not impossible."


    Even with the young mage''s renewed understanding of High School level science, he wasn''t sure how the ''tube'' worked. As the car went through some minor transformations and was locked in place on a hovering ''tray'' and sent rushing down the partially evacuated tube, he could only catch a bit of the combined maglev and vacuum principles. However it worked, after a couple of minutes, the car was breaking sound barrier speeds and still slowly climbing.


    Tearing his fascination and slight horror away from the evenly spaced lights on the tube turning into a line, he looked at Garret and said, "It ended up going a little out of my expectations but I figured we could play one of these consoles for a little while, carve some love into it and give it some devaluing personality. Your sister''s going to need some kind of distraction since she''s dealing with your mom solo for a bit."


    Joking around but with a tinge of real fear at the edges, Garret said, "Are you buttering me up to be a science project or an organ donor?... It''s cool, man. Grampa Booger''s got her... er, Birgir. He''s in the independent country of Iceland. Bab''s dad wasn''t a Rowdy but he might as well have been... It''s a long story."


    Suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, Orison said, "Oh. In hindsight, I probably should have at least said something first. Well, take one of them anyway. If Rio finds out there''s a free one up for grabs, he''ll want it for himself and I don''t quite think he has enough impulse control to avoid slacking off if he has one in his room. There''s a certain part of myself I don''t quite trust to have one in mine either."


    Garret looked down at the sweet, sweet devil that was the gaming console.


    Seeing a potential to spend even more time away from the water park after she got back, the driver lady said, "If it''s just a matter of the spirit of it all, I can lower down a monitor. The two of you can belt out a few rounds of some fighting game or whatever. To seal the deal, your buddy there can put his big brother seal of approval on it and I can take it to your Bab''s today."


    After looking at each other, the two young men came to a silent agreement and an unwritten second entry was invisibly added to the list of ''banned from bedrooms''. In what felt like next to no time, they were forced to speed decorate the console a little because they were out in front of the new house. Orison was touched because Bab''s wanted him to sign it too.


    Over the touchscreen visual messenger, with a big smile she said, "Don''t hurt my big brother and you''ll be my hero for life!"


    With dramatic disappointment, he looked at Garret and said, "Well, there goes my plans to use you as a guinea pig and sell your organs. A pretty girl''s disappointment is my fatal weakness."


    With wide eyes, Garret looked at his sister and said, "Sounds like you''re MY hero, Babs!"


    The girl made duck lips at the screen and said, "Don''t you forget it."


    Before the lady took off, Orison asked, "If it''s done like this, what''s to stop Janet from wrecking this one if she knows her daughter has it?"


    The woman said, "Child protection watch list means that all common areas of the house are visually monitored sporadically. That smart cookie even requested the emergency camera in her room to be activated. As long as she keeps it in there, or in the living room if her mom makes her, Janet won''t know if we''re watching or not.


    "If that...woman takes it into her bedroom and something happens to it, then she''s liable for replacement under the Children''s General Property Protection Act. She ain''t the first woman to act a little crazy after her kids thwart her power plays and blackmails. Career baby mill is an institutionalized failure of our system with no real solution. If you figure one out, let us know. It would definitely earn you a civil meritorious service award, maybe even a Peace Prize."


    Orison shot, "They could start by making the fertility clinic only available for storing adult samples unless there''s outstanding medical reasons. Restricting access for people who have already had a child would help too."


    "Oh, my sweet summer child... Sorry. Just got done binge watching an old series... That would only target about twelve percent of the problem and unfairly target the extended Rogers family legacy... Well, gotta get going." She said.


    As she turned to leave, the young mage added, "Give me a week. I''ll crack this and then start on world hunger. Interstellar peace will have to wait for next month but I''ve penciled it in."


    After a parting shout through cracked windows that she would be waiting to hear the good news, Orison turned to Garret. "Your last name''s Rogers, right? Do you know what she''s talking about?"


    Garret sighed and said, "I do but I hardly count as a part of it. I''m considered fifth generation but after filtering through two E-jects, er, E-class generational mothers... The thing is, you know that the third Triumvir represents mundane humans, E-class and the technologically enhanced? The Rogers family are under the third Triumvir. Care to guess why?"


    Dully, Orison said, "Artificially manipulated genes. The UTF was trying to find a way to even the playing field. What stopped them?"


    Garret shrugged, "What didn''t stop the ''pre-UTF''? Babies couldn''t make it to term. Mothers couldn''t make it to term. Attempts to mature artificially would produce results that didn''t live for long. That sort of thing.


    "Moving to post production, after killing a few hundred young children with no result they moved to pubescent and finally young adults just past puberty. The East finally had a survivor that didn''t die of various complications, and then experimented the whole family around that survivor into early graves but got it down to a decent standard. With little option and their survivor undergoing mutations that weren''t...that good looking, they turned to the West.


    "Now this was in the early days and The League didn''t have Avalon yet. So, they watched on in horror as the west produced a successful and publicly acceptable result. That was the Rogers family. There was a catch, though. None of the children were inheriting. They also would die or become deformed if a second attempt was made.


    "The youngest survivor managed to get away with some help and had a little oopsie. Viola! The survivor who made it to the League found the solution. Ever trying to keep the moral high ground while still getting what it wants, the League decided that storing a sample til legal adulthood was good enough for them and here we are."


    Orison took a leap of logic. "The third Triumvir''s balance to the other two. The reason why baby trapping Rowdies is such a hard problem to solve. Rogers is the most common surname in Avalon?"


    Pointing left, middle and then right, Garret said, "Maybe a little... How did you pass History class?... Third most common in the World after Wang and Smith but more because of a trend to change last names in the early days of the UTF. They made some dumb decisions back then and family tracking rewards programs weren''t even high on the list of dumb.


    "Little piece of trivia for you, since you''re making me feel all special talking about my dad''s family. Did you know that Rogers family hair is used in the whole fishbowl bath that everyone has to get? A joke that my grandpa used to make when he was still alive was ''There''s a little Rogers in everyone.'' In Avalon, it''s actually true, at least for a little while. Mom used to call my annual hair cut ''Spring Break'' because- Why did you pull a hair out?"


    Orison''s eyes that were starting to glow, dimmed and he looked back up at Garret. "Sorry but if I''m right, I''m going to make you very happy I did as soon as I can trust you... Your first mission, if you choose to accept, is to move all our junk into the house and pick out any bedroom but the master bedroom for your own. I''m going to check out the lab, guinea pig... It was a joke... A joke! Just the last part. Being the first to pick a bedroom is very real. Rio tried to take mine the first time. So, it''s payback."


    Once the young mage got to the alchemy room, joined to the magic training room several feet away from the house in a converted storm shelter, he summoned out a drop of vital water and did a little observational experiment. After that, he looked up the information on the original pre-UTF experiment Garret had talked about. After comparing it to ''the fish bowl'' medical wash during intake, he went into a meditative half trance.


    He felt like he was missing something. Going back to the information on the family, he tracked where lineage lines pointed and started looking into local lore around that area. At nearly four in the afternoon, he finally left to find Garret with a smile on his face.


    "I love this feeling. I really hope going mid dimension later doesn''t nerf this too hard," Orison muttered to himself.


    He found the teen playing a fighting game on the console that had been hooked up a few minutes before on the one small monitor in the living room that had the right ports for it. "Geez. No need to jump up like that. It''s not like I caught you beating off or something... Everything squared away?"


    Garret said, "Yeah. Didn''t even have to make my bed or anything. I hope we can switch around all this full house ''brown on green'' thing going on. Not that I''m complaining!"


    Orison shrugged. "Feel free to complain. I hate it. Well, not really but I don''t want to see it everywhere. Forget about that, though.


    "I''ve only known you for a few hours. You''re probably bummed and weirded out by all that happened and I didn''t really help by being a little too gung ho with the generosity. Truth is, aside from a misunderstanding at the beginning when I felt the off vibe between you and your one day girlfriend, my gut tells me that you''re a friend worth making. Thing is, trust takes time, right? The harder you try to rush it, the less chance you''ll get it?"


    Confused but giving his best try to catch up to whatever speed orison was running at, Garret said, "I''m more worried I''m going to burn through whatever goodwill you have than weirded out. Playing along with mom in an endless line of whispered ''he might be your new daddy'' acts was a pretty good warm up to asking a stranger to be one, at least on paper. I''ve been ragged on a lot but I hope that it doesn''t make you regret this when one or two haters pop their mouth off at you about it."


    Orison gave a saintly smile at the thought and said, "If someone takes it over my tolerance line, they''ll be the one calling me daddy. Don''t sweat it."


    Garret gave a weak smile and continued, "On the trust thing... I play nice and I can be friendly. I know to keep my mouth shut and eyes closed to things that aren''t my business. But yeah, trust isn''t something that comes easy. People have shown me in just about every way there is, that it''s a bad idea when you do."


    Orison nodded. "Since you''ve been burned a few times, you know exactly how people can trust each other in a quick manner too."


    Warily, Garret said, "Mutual dirt."


    Saying it as playfully and non-threatening as he could, the young mage said, "Drop the shirt. Grab a towel and meet me at the bathroom. If I can''t establish at least the base line of trust with you before I''m done, cleaning it for the next month will be my chore."


    "Whose would it be?" Garret asked.


    Orison smiled. "Well, you are the new guy. Consider it lightweight hazing."


    "Then you''ve really got your work cut out for you," the teen said.


    The young mage smirked. "No, that''s you when it''s Rio''s turn. I''ve got my own bathroom."

 167 Country of Champions 18

    Despite the jokes, Garret looked like he was wound tighter than a pocket watch as the young mage filled the tub with water.


    Orison handed him the touchscreen and had him read it, which he decided to do out loud for some reason. "Before the 1800''s, the rusalki were not considered malicious entities. In the spring, they were known to sprinkle fields near their residences with a mist that made crops more fruitful. It was believed that this was done to-"


    The young mage interrupted, "That''s far enough for the relevant part. Okay. Now that you have the first piece of the puzzle... Rusk, Russel, Salk sound familiar, Rogers family history buff?"


    "Yeah, branch families that probably share a common ancestor with us. But just because they sound similar to some creature that went extinct doesn''t mean much," Garret said as his forehead creased in thought.


    Orison pulled up a map and used the highlight function on the touchscreen. "Those arrows point to where the families I just mentioned roughly came from. The circle is the most well known area for rusalka sightings before they began turning predatory and migrating."


    More in an attempt to talk himself out of buying Orison''s line of logic than because of cold skepticism, the teen said, "See, right here? It says that they are more like a spirit or apparition. How could an ancestor knock up a ghost?"


    The young mage frowned. "Don''t confuse spirits of the dead fey with nature fey. They''re already hard enough to identify...When this world stopped sharing its magic, the more spiritual fey connected to it were doomed to wither away. Even though ''The Little Mermaid'' is a tragedy of a story, it holds one possible answer. In fact, if it was accepted, it would explain a multitude of other phenomenon about this world."


    Just shy of sneering, Garret said, "You''re trying to tell me that you think humanity started making all kinds of evolutionary leaps and changes because supernatural creatures found ways to become people? Well, let me share what we''re taught at school. The Great Shift, when the magnetic poles did a full 360 over the course of a few years, and the appearance of planar rifts sparked the evolutionary leap."


    Orison smiled, "In what way are they contradictory? Ambient magic probably faded to pretty much nothing over the course of a thousand years. Supernatural creatures doing what they could to adapt to that and mixing with humans laid dormant inheritances inside humanity. The Great Shift and the appearance of planar rifts woke those inheritances up.


    "What tripped them up was that their cover experiment actually bore accidental fruit. You see, what Avalon calls ''aqua vitae'', I call vital water. I have a pretty good idea of how it forms naturally and I''m pretty sure that the Rogers family might be one of a very small percentage of the world''s population with a natural resistance to its carcinogenic effects. Why? Because it was a Rusalka''s food and the Rogers family are their mortal legacy."


    Garret folded his arms and said, "Go on. How does ''aqua vitae form naturally and how does all this tie together in a way that has you so sure?"


    Smiling widely, Orison said, "Alright. You know what dirt I''m claiming to have, now. Lets give you some and provide evidence my dirt''s legit."


    The young mage pulled out a dropper vial with water so ''pure'', it had a tinge of blue light refraction to it, even at such a small amount. "Vital water forms from condensation or dew on certain spiritual plants and collects in nearby depressions like ponds and lakes because it''s heavier than normal water. I know because I collected it. In this state, it''s far less dangerous than whatever source the pre-UTF found and a bit more potent than the undiluted version that Avalon makes and uses. Even though I say that, it''s still about as dangerous to have direct contact with as organic mercury. Which is to say, freaking scary lethal but survivable."


    He carefully unscrewed the cap and let some micro evaporation circulate. Orison watched Garret closely and saw the teen''s eyes slightly dilate and the pours of his skin open up like he''d stepped into a sauna.


    The young mage smirked. "Feeling thirsty? That''s the Rusalka instinct telling you that you just found something yummy. Don''t be fooled by it. I need to dilute this stuff to about the same degree as your bloodline is diluted before it''s safe for you and even then, you can only safely take it in once every seven years or so. Speaking of which, when did you get your fish bowl dip?"


    Swallowing a mouthful of saliva and tearing his eyes away from the bottle to look at Orison, he said, "A little less than eight years ago. I was nine."


    "Ah. So, you only need me to vouch for you for five months. Avalon will let you emancipate without a hearing as long as you''re within nine months of eighteen and don''t have any outstanding reason why you shouldn''t be, right?" Orison said.


    Garret nodded and pointed at the dropper vial, the bathtub then back to himself with a hopeful look.


    The young mage chuckled and said, "Gold star!... Hold up. Don''t go jumping into the tub yet. We have to do this in a specific way. We might be able to cut some of the middle steps because of your heritage but it''s still dangerous stuff.


    "The reason why Avalon''s method works so well and is so universally helpful is because the ''fish bowl'' medical wash imitates the natural ''source to human'' cycle. A Rusalka takes in the vital water, ''sprays'' the ground and the plants neutralize it in the process of growing. The fish bowl wash drips its ''aqua vitae'' through a carbonized filter made of Rogers special keratin, heated til the steam pushes through another filter of secret formula plant fibers which makes it safe for just about everyone to take in once in a lifetime.


    "I don''t think you need me to tell you how much of its overall potential is lost along the way but it''s what allowed a Rusalka to be pretty much biologically immortal as long as their food never ran out and what allowed the people who got just a touch of its surviving benefit through eating plants grown in Rusalka ''sprayed'' fields to be a hearty and robust people."


    The light bulb came on in Garret''s mind. "Enough to be broad spectrum B-class, if they could skip the middle parts, and to keep refreshing following generations to broad C''s and D''s!... They can control our whole family''s overall power to make as many of us rank and file for whatever level they need us at!"


    Seeing that Garret was about to go down a dark road when he was still in a dark place, Orison said, "They could but I don''t think they''re abusing that power. Avalon''s ''aqua vitae'' is useful for everyone but even if it was selfishly reserved for just the Rogers family, it still wouldn''t be enough to make more than a couple dozen more B-class while maintaining a thousand or so of the extended family at C... at best. The fact they share some with everyone, even if it''s forced and has to be paid for, means they''ve struck a pretty decent balance between human instinct and societal good."


    He let Garret vent a bellyful of gripe before he added, "You''re right. It''s far too selfish for me to save this all for you. I should round up all the D-Class Rogers and get them to C-class before I even think about giving you, the far more advantaged one, even a single drop, right?...


    "You know that sudden struggle you''re feeling inside between the ideals you just formed and your personal desires? I would guess that Avalon''s solution was to keep half and give the other half to everyone else. Now, that''s just a guess and it might be a little on the generous side but it seems about right from everything I''ve seen.


    "Is that how I should handle this, give you half of what I think you can handle for maximum effect and give the rest away? Who knows how much lost potential boost that actually translates into but that''s the standard I believe the people you just ragged on uses. Thank goodness you just saved me from stupidly giving all this to you and showing me how a generous and civil minded person should handle it."


    Orison made to put the dropper vial away as Garret''s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.


    Thinking he''d carried the joke far enough, Orison said, "I''m not nearly as enlightened as the person who set up how Avalon works because this is all for you. It''s all yours because it''s mine and I choose to give it to you, no one else. I''d rather pour it down the drain than be forced to give it to someone else I didn''t choose because that''s the kind of petty a**hole I am.


    "There''s a person you''ll never get to meet directly named Al. Thank that guy because before he became a part of my life, I''m pretty sure I was a borderline psychopath. And that ''give a crap'' line you find yourself on the good side of, it would be a lot smaller and a lot harder to cross."


    As if he was afraid that Orison would change his mind again, Garret said quickly, "Thank YOU for showing me how easy it is to be a hypocrite. Thank you, Al. And thank you, mom, for keeping me humble, showing me the good of being a little shameless and the bad of being anymore shameless than that. Do I get in the bath now?"


    The young mage smiled in spite of himself and said, "No... Don''t look at me like that. I''m not still messing with you... We don''t have the same equipment as intake or wherever it is Avalon citizens go for their medical wash. That means we have to take a couple of safety precautions and make sure you''re aware of what you''re in for because you''re going to be awake for it this time.


    "Here in a second, I''m going to add a few drops and you''re going to dunk your head in. I''m going to be watching on the side with spirit sight... Keep your eyes shut tight and try your best not to get any in your mouth or nose. Come up for air as needed until you hear me say rinse or tap you on the shoulder three times...


    " -the full soak and rinse off. If we time it all well, you''ll be finished with that before you''re hit with what will feel like the worst hangover of your life and the sensation of microscopic splinters pushing out of every pour in your body. Stuff''s probably going to be coming out of every hole you got and you''re going to be hurting while it''s happening. Tissue regeneration should be able to keep up with it but be prepared to shed anything that can be.


    "No matter how much you''re hurting, if you feel liquid in your mouth, swallow. If you shed too much your body''s going to start cannibalizing resources and you''ll come out looking like a mummy with candy corn soft teeth. I don''t care if it''s fixable. Both of us have been traumatized enough today."


    For the first time, Orison''s worst case scenario briefing wasn''t met with fear or second thoughts. Instead, Garret looked pumped to get started as he said, "Foreign micro particulate rejection and pseudo secondary maturation phenomenon!? Come on, baby. Hurts so good! Whoo!"


    Black lines ran down the young mage''s face as he looked at the teen hopping in place and shaking loose like he was getting ready for some hard cardio. "Might, as in maybe."


    Garret''s grin looked a little wild as a dim fanaticism danced in his eyes. "That''s the kind of suffering only the elite of the elite are even qualified to feel. Here''s hoping."


    A few minutes, a surprisingly empty dropper vial and a few awkward poses later, the soak was done.


    While rinsing off, the teen cracked, "Some of those poses made me feel like I was posing for dirty pictures. Your eyes being all glowing and staring at me made that feeling real for me, you know? I''m just glad you only have to touch the wish bone or between the shoulder blades or things would have gotten scary."


    Despite laughing, there was a touch of sincerity behind it. He couldn''t really blame Garret. He was a bit of an exhibitionist and would have felt uncomfortable himself.


    Orison said, "Sorry about that but the only observation equipment we have are my eyes and spirit sight. The left/right flip was an unexpected necessity. I don''t know why the tender bits had so much lower of a resistance than the rest of you. Maybe it''s because the Rusalki are an all female group?"


    Nauseousness and discomfort setting in, Garret started projecting uncertainty. "I''m not going to change into a woman or something crazy like that, am I?"


    "Not from vital water. In fact, your soak tolerance would be much lower if you were a woman. Men''s skin is thicker. Then again, it''s not like I''ve had a chance to observe a female Rogers family member going through this. Maybe they could drink it, for all I know," Orison deflected.


    Due to the mixing of multiple, if weak, additional mutant genes, the chance of an instability as a gender change was laughably low but it wasn''t zero. The chance of anything wasn''t zero, really. The one main fact that science would always be able to flaunt over the magical and supernatural was greater stability and repeatability of results.


    Under Orison''s watchful eyes, the teen''s stomach settled down and began rapidly drawing vestiges of still digesting cheeseburger and fries from it instead of making the guy lose them. Seeing an opportunity, orison tapped the last trembling drop of vital water in the vial into a multivitamin/mineral emulsion and got Garret to chug it down before the pain hit. As he watch the teen''s stomach absorb it, he realized that it had been a decent idea but it was going to cause him a little more aftercare work. The internals didn''t have more than half again as much resistance to vital water as a normal person.


    "Good news for you, since you''re all for the dramatic transformation effects. Your teeth are starting to loosen and new ones are about to grow in behind," the young mage added cheerily.


    Pale and shaking from the first wave of toxin expulsion, looking like a stray dog left in the rain with the shower going overhead, Garret weakly said, "Yay..."


    After that, things got violent looking, ugly and sometimes revolting. Another forty minutes later, Orison was tossing a makeshift feeder tube into the trash and carrying a sobbing, kitten weak Garret to bed. As the orb in the grandly realistic artificial sky outside dipped from gold to bright orange, the young mage dealt with bipolar mood swings from the thankfully weak and delirious teen as he spot removed abnormal cell clusters that occasionally popped up.


    As Garret''s head began to rapidly cool back down to normal temperatures, he became more aware of his surroundings. Confusion was slowly replaced by more curiosity than concern on his face as he saw Orison''s half closed Caribbean blue eyes roam along with fingers across him. Perhaps because of a combination of his recent ordeals mixed with the slow trickle return of his strength and energy, anxiety over awkward intimacy with this near stranger suddenly vanished.


    The teen''s body relaxed as his heart rate quickened, prompting Orison to think, "Damn it. This again? I was sure we''d be past this after his fever broke and brain activity returned to HIS normal."


    While another icy-electric tingle rolled across his nerve endings from the young mage''s magic, barely above a whisper, Garret said, "It''s been a crazy day so... Even though it''s not really my thing, I''m cool if it''s yours. You''ve got the candle lit. Blow it out and make a wish or bring the cake. I''ve got the ice cream and it''s always somebody''s birthday."


    Barely half listening, Orison mumbled, "I don''t know how many of these ''Bro, I''m so DHH that I''m down if you''re down.'' locker room confessionals I can take. Biscuits and sausage gravy, something about cheese spread and now cake and ice cream. Maybe I got it wrong and he''s just hungry... The fever''s returning? When is this nightmare going to be over!?"


    Garret said, "Can you just give me a sedative and execute me already?"


    Orison breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh. It''s just embarrassment and you''re lucid. Thank gawd."


    He stopped scanning the teen''s body for abnormal cells and surface dangers stimulated by an excess of life essence and collapsed into the desk chair the room came furnished with. "Don''t sweat it. With your strength coming back, a whole lot of itches you couldn''t scratch yourself yet are going to start demanding your attention. I''ll give you privacy until the ''need for food'' itch drowns the others out."


    He got up, grabbed the Turkish robe and thought better of it.


    After tossing it onto Garret''s bed and walking out, he closed the door and said, "There aren''t any paper products in the house. It''s clean but you can''t clean memories. Throw it into whichever recycle bin it belongs to when you''re done with it... And my prayers go with it for the factory worker."


    A few minutes later, while the young mage was going through what could be made for dinner, Garret weakly staggered to the bathroom. He quickly ran some ''presto'' in the teen''s bedroom and noticed that the robe had been hung up in the closet. From across the hall, through the bathroom door, Garret said. "Don''t throw it away! I''ll trade it for some merits or use it myself. Do you know how much those things cost!?"

 168 Country of Champions 19

    Over a dinner that Garret complimented to death between unending apologies, he said, "But seriously. I''m going to marry a mage girl and I want you to teacher her that thing you were doing."


    Orison snorted. "Look for one from medical support and they probably know a few better already. Warning, I bet their husbands are 100% faithful for a lot more reasons than just one."


    The teen frowned. "No dice. The only group more pestered for dates than a Rowdies guy is a milk maid, er, medical support person. One that''s both is double troubled. Survival is justice...There''s some team leaders who''d drop more than pride and bend more than their morality to get and keep one on their roster.


    "A Rowdy woman with medical skills who leaves the safety of the Blue Rose Committee to join a standard away team by choice or necessity, has a hard time not finding herself in a closed circle of men acting like jealous boyfriends. A Rowdy man who has decent medical skills that can''t be seduced into the Blue Rose''s volunteer loop or doesn''t come out of accelerator with a training wheels team, gets mentally lumped into the rest of the unicorns and treasure trolls that permanent teams fight over."


    Realizing he threw more slang at the confused young mage, Garret added, "The volunteer loop is a trick Blue Rose, and a couple of other specialized organizations that Avalon allows to exist, use to float a person from team to team if that person can''t legally join an organization officially.


    "All this only applies for the first two years. Once you''re a veteran, Avalon takes off the gloves and puts you where you''re needed most. Women and certain special needs groups retain the right to opt out of long duty posts, though."


    Orison nodded. "First two years, recruits are somewhat protected from things and after that, no more pampering. I guess Avalon expects a twenty year old to be caught up to the rest of the adult world or at least ready to be measured by its standards... What about this unicorn and treasure troll business?"


    Garret gave him a surprised look before he shrugged and said, "Treasure trolls are people with problems but highly desirable skills or abilities. Some less understanding people might consider a unicorn one of them but... I talked to a trainer when I was in First Wave that had spent several tours on long duties.


    "He told me that even if I would never be able to understand why, good commanders of long duty posts always make sure there are a couple of unicorns around. He also said I should be friendly to the ones I find there and my life would be a little easier even if I never wanted, you know. They help keep morale up and assaults down. I don''t think I ever really DID understand why until today. I kinda still wish I didn''t and I really am sorry for that, uh, thing earlier."


    Garret returned to his meal in tomato-faced silence. To lessen whatever sting the guy was feeling, Orison commented on the ''puffy muscle'' problem being gone. He would expect that alone would help raise speed and dexterity performance a good twenty percent or more. Since Garret had about a good hour left before crash, he suggested that they played a couple of games or something once they washed up the dishes.


    About two rounds in, Rio came waltzing into the house with the doll-faced woman and a solidly built but rather forgettable brown haired/eyed guy. "I have arrived my loyal subjects! No need to rise. Be as you were."


    Dully, Orison said, "Welcome home, royal pain. You got your partner situation figured out?"


    Rio smiled and said, "Yup. As long as I finish learning up the healing model, Esme''s going to make sure I have reliable partners every step of the way. Oh, she''s Trisha''s friend by the way."


    Orison looked at the doll-faced woman. "Pleased to meet you, Blue Rose Committee member, Esme. Trisha pointed you wise to him already? Please tell me Daphne wasn''t part of some kind of setup to sniff out his skills and abilities. She deserves to be treated better than that."


    Esme''s cool poker face held perfectly. "You have the order backwards. Daphne fell prey to little Rio''s charm from day one. She was his school ambassador... The one who showed him where everything was."


    Rio said, "Uh, this got weird quick. Is there something I should be worried about, Sonny?"


    Orison sighed. "Lame nickname aside, not really. So, you''re going the organization route? Not a bad plan."


    Slightly annoyed, Rio said, "And after I prove I''m not some pervert just for preferring the company of girls, I''m going to use the green to gold program and switch to core command. Listen to this. When I went to the guidance councilor to ask what it would take to earn a core program sponsorship, they told me I was yellow flagged! It took the rest of the meeting to get that I had to be on my best behavior for two years and no harassment on my record during that time to have it removed!"


    Esme added, "Intake personnel can be overly sensitive about probationary citizen''s behavior. Don''t take it too personally. There aren''t too many first generation Avalon citizens in core. Almost all of them have spent two years of active service before going green to gold."


    Drumming up some sympathy, Rio looked at Garret and said, "I heard that Sonny helped you with some issues today with your mom. I hope everything turned out alright."


    "About as good as they possibly could, I''d say," Garret said with a slightly tired smile, showing that his life essence high was entering the last stretch of its down hill run.


    Looking apologetic, Rio said, "So, no hard feeling about not picking you to be my Rowdies partner?"


    Garret looked at Orison who said, "You two wouldn''t be that good of a match anyway."


    Surprised, Rio said, "Wow. That was a little harsh... Well, anyway. What''s said is said. Don''t let it bum you out, big guy. Sonny''s standards are a bit too high but I''m sure you''ll find a partner in no time. Uh, so I guess I''ll see you at school, Garret..."


    A little confused, Garret nodded and waited for Orison to unpause the game.


    The young mage elbowed him to get his attention, winked and said, "Yeah, it''s getting pretty late. You should probably go home. Let me walk you to the door."


    Catching on, Garret pretended to be downcast and followed Orison outside before following him back in with a smirk.


    As Rio and even Esme watched in confusion, Garret said, "I''m home, temporary guardian and temporary little brother."


    Holding back a snicker, Orison said, "Welcome back. You still feel up to playing or..."


    Garret said, "I''m not quite lights out ready but I''m too sluggish to be anything but a punching bag."


    Orison nodded and said, "Why don''t you go ahead and check out the RPG that you were eyeballing earlier. I need to catch Rio up to speed anyway."


    With an odd look on his face, Rio said, "I don''t get it. If he''s not good enough for me, why did you take him in? Did you just feel like doing a good deed or something?"


    Frowning, Orison said, "Who said he was the one not good enough? I said you weren''t a good match because he''s already been to second wave, up to a year ahead of where you are. He''s a good tank and he''ll have no problems covering your mistakes but he won''t be so good at pointing them out because he might not even realize you''re making one. His old partner was kind of garbage.


    "If you get in the habit of taking that for granted, then when a less attentive person is covering you while you''re deep casting the hard stuff, you''re going to get hurt or killed. You need someone at you''re own level so that you can learn how to deal with your own mistakes and spot ones your cover''s making. If you were starting off in real combat, then yeah. Take advantage of what you can but while you''re in training, no."


    Esme chimed in, "The final summit exists to clear up those issues but if you wait til you''re there to start fixing those bad habits, you could be there for awhile. And trust me, the last thing you want is to be taking remedial training in ''Third Summit''. The Three Summits stage is the equivalent of an extended military basic training as it is. There are no fun times to be had there."


    A little angry and embarrassed, Rio said, "So, you sniped him from me because you want him as your partner?"


    Orison was surprised for a moment and then actually thought about it. That didn''t escape Garret or Rio''s attention.


    As the two teenagers shared a look, Garret said, "Just to clear the air. I kinda figured out early in, which way you were leaning as soon as Esme showed up. After that T3 security guy told you what was up with your housing situation, I thought I''d give asking to crash here for a few months a shot. When it turned into the mess it did and he still went through with it, I sort of thought that he wanted me to be your partner or his. I guess I was overthinking it."


    Orison shook his head. "No. I was under-thinking it. There''s parts I could breeze through a lot faster if I actually have a partner instead of trying to solo it. Not to mention, you''re not a bad choice to screen for filling out my after graduation team. There''s time to figure that stuff out later, though.


    "Rio, before you start getting bent out of shape about things, do you even know what you really want yet? I''m for Rowdies all the way. You''re a year minimum before you can legally be cleared for delayed entry and five months beyond that before you can get emancipated to waive the last nine months til you''re eighteen. Even if you were set on it and I dragged you by your bootstraps, personally training you, I''ll still be actively serving months before you can join me.


    "Take your time. Enjoy yourself. Have girlfriends and go to parties or whatever. That''s not my road and you''ll be miserable and full of regrets trying to walk mine with me right now."


    Rio looked like he was hurt but trying to hide it. "I could close my eyes and almost imagine my big brother standing where you are. So, that''s it then? I''m going to get left behind again because I''m not-"


    Orison froze Rio with the most dire look the young mage could summon. "There are some things that should only be discussed in private and answers I''ll only give you in private. I have no intentions on leaving you behind unless you don''t listen to me. There are some things I have to do before you are reasonably able to be where they need done. There''s nothing more or less to it."


    Things weren''t resolved but it wasn''t Rio''s nature to air out his feelings. He just packed them away.


    With a fake cheeriness he said, "Well, I guess I''ll just have to go out and have enough fun to cover what you''re going to miss out on then. One of us has to have a girlfriend and go out on dates or people might start getting the wrong idea."


    Orison sneered and said, "I don''t remember swearing off fun. It''s just not my highest priority."


    Esme cut Rio''s response off. "In that case, if you have some time free, I''m in need of an arm decoration to hang off of for a retirement ball this coming Friday. It won''t be fun, exactly, but you''ll be able to mingle with elite in a setting where they at least have to be polite."


    "Does this date offering come with a side of recruitment attempts?" Orison said wryly.


    Esme smiled faintly and said, "Absolutely not. Trying to add Committee business to family business is a recipe for misery. Besides, I do have a personal life."


    Confused, Rio said, "You told Daphne that Trisha was thinking of asking him but was intimidated by how young he looked and you agreed."


    Esme said, "I agreed that he looks young but I''m not intimidated by it... People say I can come off cold and uncaring, are you intimidated by THAT, Orison?"


    Orison shook his head. "Of all the things I may think or feel about it, intimidated isn''t one of them."


    Looking a little mischievous, Rio said, "But she did tell you she was thinking about it. Don''t you feel bad about butting in on your friend like that?"


    Orison almost felt like laughing at Rio''s attempt to c**k block a situation he wasn''t really invested in."


    The porcelain skinned and fragile looking beauty said, "She should be more decisive."


    The young mage went from almost feeling like laughing to actively trying not to.


    Making one last stab at it, Rio said, "She''s recovering from a medical thing."


    She took a slightly longer breath through her nose and let it out slowly in what Orison identified as a carefully hidden urge to sigh. "Her mouth still works and her fingers aren''t broken... No offense but it''s also not your business."


    She turned to Orison and waited for his reply. "I''ll let you know by tomorrow night. Send me the details to my touchscreen. I need to make sure nothing will come up to keep from honoring it if I say yes."


    The faintest hint of a smile graced her lips again as she said, "I can respect that. I wouldn''t need to know until Wednesday."


    "By tomorrow night you''ll have an answer, even if it''s no," Orison assured.


    She nodded and turned to leave, faint smile still hovering on her lips.


    Turning to the guy that came with them, the young mage said, "Are you going or staying til school tomorrow?"


    The guy looked surprised and said, "You still know I''m here? Oh, that''s right, you''re a sensitive. My passive aura probably works in reverse with you."


    Rio almost jumped out of his skin. "You''re good, dude!... Oh, he''s Glenn. He''s not my actual program partner. He''s my partner''s junior trainer and he was going to run through some stuff with me. Since it might run late, do you mind if he stays til school tomorrow?"


    Orison said, "No, I don''t mind but we have magic heritage training tomorrow. So, no guests. The rest of the week''s fine, though... I have some remaining protein and mineral balance mix left in the fridge. It''s got a little herbal kick that''ll help with recovery. Feel free to use it so it doesn''t go to waste."


    Glenn asked. "Can I see the mix list?"


    Orison forwarded it to him and added, "The secret ingredient was something I picked up today. You''ll forgive me for not disclosing but you know where I was. Some people like their secrets kept but I hate seeing good stuff get dumped when it could be used by somebody."


    Sometime during his conversation with Glenn that ended up straying into the school provided supplements versus Orison''s personal use ones, Garret finally started losing his battle with sleep and went to bed. Using the interruption, Rio grabbed Glenn''s attention and they went off to the training ''bunker''.


    With that reminder, Orison thought, "Why would a building made inside of an admittedly large but still enclosed space with artificial lighting and weather imitation need a storm shelter? Maybe it was a fallout shelter?..."


    He spent some time revising his long term plans to provisionally include Garret and decided to rest early. It was very likely that there would be another surge of restlessness somewhere around early morning in the teen and Orison was curious how much of a difference the vital water had made. It would also be the biggest hurdle Garret faced if he wanted to earn Orison''s trust.


    Depending on how good the results were, the teen could test back into accelerator as a ''resurgence'', a type of secondary latent awakening. If he decided to show off and get new stats recorded, there was a decent possibility of getting pulled into the elite portion of the Rogers family. If the teen was more interested in what the young mage had to offer or had formed some sense of indebtedness, Orison didn''t mind slowly drawing Garret into the inner circle.


    With a last burst of effort for a shower, he turned in. Mere moments after he had slipped into trance a knock at his door drew him back. Grumbling, the young mage activated his teaser suit. On the off chance it was their guest or Garret, he hadn''t had a chance to give them the ''When the lights are out and the bedroom''s door is closed, visual trauma is on you.'' rule yet.


    It was Rio. The teen wanted to ask about which of the two open bedrooms after he''d picked his own was the guest bedroom. Since one adjoined his own and was locked, Orison thought that was fairly clear. It turned out that Rio was just looking for an excuse to apologize over the Esme thing.


    Rio was worried about a lot of things, especially his future. And seeing the young mage get chummy with the Blue Rose rep he''d be working with, had set off some insecurity. Reading between the lines, the young mage caught a hint that Rio suffered from a light case of ''all pretty girls belong to me'' and ''I''m the real protagonist'' diseases too. He didn''t care. Everybody had their flaws and underneath it, Rio was still a likable kid in Orison''s eyes. He did threaten some swift and terrible vengeance if his young friend interfered with any serious romantic interests, however.

 169 Country of Champions 20

    Early the next morning, two hours before dawn, Garret was woke up by a light knock on his door. The guy found that he was so full of energy, he could hardly sit still but that didn''t last for long as he was put through his paces while Orison watched on the sidelines in the training bunker. A spectacle of amazing superhuman feats, it was not.


    No matter how ''perfected'' Garret''s physical performance was to the human standard, at his base, he was just a human. What made his enhancements shine when compared to a group of athletes, was overall performance rather than specialization. That was especially significant in a handful of important areas.


    A runner might have up to around a twenty percent greater bone density in their legs compared to the average. Garret, who was originally around 15% greater overall, held a couple more and showed signs of density continuing to rise. That density trend held true in muscle fiber as well as percentage of muscle capable of both explosive strength and endurance. It carried over into recovery rate, resistances and even longevity.


    Between observing Garret and reading up on Rogers family information, Orison realized just how much the world had paid attention to their conception and development over the years. If D-class Rogers family members could be considered the golden standard of humanity''s top one percent, then C-class Rogers defined the limitations. After three generations of observation, when the S\u0026M bars were established, physical performance mutations were measured against B-class Rogers family members'' average base performance. They were the yard stick that humanity used to differ mundane from mutant on the physical side of things.


    Orison wouldn''t have been nearly as fascinated as he was with it but for something personally rewarding that came from such a study. There was a significant loosening of physical potential limits in himself. In observing and better understanding human potential and how it was achieved, dormant supernatural forces within himself had discovered new definitions of limitations for his own body. Ones that didn''t conflict with the directives he had instilled long ago and continued to subconsciously desire.


    The young mage could finally understand why he had felt that reaching a helping hand out to the teen had seemed like such a good idea, even with the cost and aggravations. For Orison, who deeply desired not to move any further away from humanity than he already had, Garret was practically a living instruction manual on how to get the most out of a human without fundamentally changing them to something else. And whether meaning to or not, Orison''s own personal code would allow nothing less than returning to the teen value of advantages given within his reasonable ability to do so.


    Looking somewhat disappointed in himself, Garret said, "I-I expected a lot more. I felt like I had a lot more to give but just couldn''t seem to reach it."


    Orison chuckled. "Your body''s not much different compared to a person who recently recovered from a period of malnutrition and long term illness. Despite that, you can slightly outperform your original standard. Imagine how much that will improve over the next couple of weeks. Imagine how much more you can pull out from your newly expanded potential over the next few months!?"


    He gave the teen a quick breakdown of what should be avoided and how to best take advantage of the body''s attempt to fill in bone tissue and muscle fiber while it was actively attempting to ''heal'' present tissue and fiber to its new density standard.


    "After taking a look at my history and bars, trainers would push higher load strength training and letting the rest take second string. You''re telling me that I can even choose to refocus to an agile spec if I want?" Garret said, mild excitement beginning to build.


    Orison smiled wryly. "You''re the one who told me survival is justice. In this case, that would mean balance would equal justice. We''re not jumping into dark age warfare. Being stronger doesn''t mean having to run less and being more agile doesn''t mean you''ll be able to escape. Consider why Avalon rates a large collection of E-class M bars ''broad spectrum D'' or a collection of D''s broad spectrum C-class.


    "But returning to your previously puffy muscles. I think I know what the real reason was. The hormone imbalance in your food several years ago, manifested itself in such an unpleasantly semi permanent way because I believe your mom scored you some illegal enhancers."


    Garret became upset and ranted for a bit.


    Once the teen calmed himself, Orison added, "I think she was actually trying to help you and even though the results came with a slight drawback, it''s probably what got you over the hump to accelerator to begin with. Now, I don''t like her but that doesn''t mean you have to be as obtuse about her as I''m intentionally making myself. There''s plenty of evidence that she has looked out for you the best way she knew how, through her somewhat mentally ill way.


    "I got a notification from the board of health affairs AND the board of legal affairs at three this morning. The babysitter who tried to pull herself up in the world on your jockstrap, went to the hospital last night. She was there until almost one. Tests suggest that she had more than one synthetic source of progestin in her bloodstream when she declared herself to be taking NO sources."


    Garret blinked in silence, somewhat stunned. "But I only gave-"


    The young mage interrupted. "Yourself the impression that she took a Plan B? Apparently your mother had an impression that the babysitter was taking birth control as well. No wonder she felt comfortable letting the girl give you a pregnancy scare. Pet theory here. She may have been under the assumption that you were getting a little too sloppy with your affections and was afraid that you would be the victim of someone like her younger self.


    "She''s still crazy. She''s still in a tailspin. I still don''t like her but she might not be the monster yesterday''s water park incident painted her out to be. It''s not as if she could come out and say that her little play with what''s her name was just a big misunderstanding when she was caught red handed hamming it up. The only way she could clear her name to you would be to admit drugging a teenage girl."


    A little panicked, Garret said, "There''s going to be an investigation! God, it''s only been three days since she pulled her bathroom stunt. Didn''t anyone tell her that you have to wait a week afterwards or you might get a false negative?"


    Orison said, "You don''t have to admit anything. I guarantee your mom won''t, even if someone was pulling her teeth. The very same catch that would keep you from clearing your name if that girl was pregnant is the very same catch that''ll stop her from accomplishing anything meaningful.


    "The burden of producing evidence of wrongdoing lies on her and the law enforcement involved aren''t emotionless robots. They''re going to piece it all together and secretly clap kudos for you even as they put their all into finding that evidence they hope they won''t find. You''ll be fine."


    "For your sake, I even swallowed my bile and sent Janet a message that I''d cover any fines or fees associated with a civil suit if they somehow figure out how to earn a handful of merits that way. I took the liberty of telling her to get her insanity back to high functioning levels again while I was at it. It didn''t quite have the impact I wanted, though."


    "That... person actually thanked me. These two emojis made my skin crawl... I know how to make this heart one but how do you make the crying smiley face one?"


    Garret didn''t say anything. He just patted Orison''s shoulder and headed off the the shower stall in the training bunker. Sensing the need for a couple minutes of alone time, the young mage left him to it and went to make breakfast.


    Around the time he was finishing up, Garret was sitting down to his honey glazed chicken and orange juice as Rio zombie shuffled in and paused on his way to reach for cereal. Before the kid could pop off, Orison shoved a plate of turkey bacon, eggs and hazelnut spread on toast over with another glass of orange juice. Telling the overlooked Glenn to help himself, the young mage looked on in confusion as the guy swallowed a large spoonful of raw honey, chugged down a glass of milk and started cleaning up the dishes.


    In amusement, Orison said, "If someone had offered you sleeping clothes to change into last night, would you have immediately left, never wanting to come back?"


    As Glenn broke out in large beads of nervous sweat, he said, "Don''t be ridiculous."


    Feeling a little mischievous, Orison said, "Spell work can lower blood sugar. Which one do you want me to fix tonight, brownies or-"


    The pan that Glenn was scrubbing slipped out of numb fingers.


    "-Honey cakes?" he finished, watching slow rising horror compete with a salivating mouth on Glenn''s face at the mention of the second option.


    Rio shrugged. "Whichever you feel like. I don''t have much of a sweet tooth."


    Orison said, "Well, since I''m approving your junior trainer to come over on legacy training nights, if he wants, I''ll let him decide."


    Glenn turned around with sudsy hands and blurted, "Honey cakes."


    The young mage smiled and said, "I don''t know how much you might need to run in and out or pull overnight sessions but if you''re the guy that Blue Rose is providing to help with Rio''s supplementary physical training, feel free to keep a few personal affects in the far left locker cabinet of the training bunker''s storage room. I know how trainers can be a bit OCD about using other people''s towels and clothes."


    Catching the drift and latching onto the offered excuse like a life-line, Glenn said, "I-I really appreciate that. It''s the sweat and stuff, you know. All that hygiene awareness makes you a little crazy."


    As he passed by the man on his way to finish getting ready for school, Orison whispered, "By guest rights I bind you. Do no harm within my home."


    Glenn''s skin pebbled in goosebumps. A small spark of fear and awe lit up inside the man''s face. It was the first time in his life to be touched by the deep magic and he felt it keenly, even through the dulling and watering down of human blood.


    The look of awe still hadn''t completely left the man''s face as their ride to the teleporter station showed up. With a quick reminder that the three members of Orison''s household were only were cleared for two uses a day apiece for distance hardship, they were on their way. Thankfully, they found out that the short range teleporter was cleared for use up to four people at a time which left some creative wiggle room.


    Once they were at school, Rio rushed off to find Daphne. They had been separated for a whole eternity of one night without any real time to video chat. It belatedly dawned on the young mage that in an imitation Earth, 1970''s America, someone like Rio may have been very popular with girls but they would have mostly been secret hookups. Openly dating free of societal harassment would surely be like a fantasy wonderland to the girl crazy teen.


    Mentally shoving errant thoughts aside, Orison realized that Glenn had continued following him and Garret long past the point the junior trainer should have veered off to get to morning Rowdies standard session. "Uh, not that I mind you tagging along but wont you be docked or given demerits for showing up late?"


    The Brownie blooded man realized his own error and parted ways with burning ears.


    In amused confusion, Garret said, "What was that about?"


    "Let''s leave it at bloodline affinity for now. It touches too close to personal secrets. Something you should understand pretty well after yesterday," Orison said blandly.


    For the first half of the day, they were in Juice Box after Garret had applied for an academic leave from morning training session. Abusing guardian privilege to mess with other granted ones, he split off a fifth of his logged VR time for Garret to use. By the time that midday rolled around, they were both glad to be done. Four hours continuous on the settings Orison had pushed for had tested his maximum ability just a bit too hard. He was glad that he had split some off for the teen or he might have experienced the ''echoes'' side effect that LeStrange had warned him about.


    After a light lunch, they went to the campus quiet room for a half hour nap that Orison ended with, "Are you ready for this? It''s going to take about two hours. So, if you need to do some business that involves paperwork or whatever, it''s the last call."


    Without waiting for a response, Orison brought out his ring, viciously palmed Garret in the guts and followed it with a heal. The teen rushed off and came back five minutes later with a look of betrayal on his face.


    "You saw some of the more violent parts of the obstacle course. You''ve even ran it once. Do you want to be distracted by personal needs right in the middle?" the young mage said with an appeal for understanding on his face.


    Garret''s temper simmered down but he continued to grumble on the way.


    "Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence," The head instructor said jovially with just a touch of ridicule.


    Taking advantage of the pause of silence caused by the man''s words and the inborn respect that kept the ten seats from shouting challenges while the man talked, Orison said, "I challenge Aiden Firebrand for the title ''Prince of the Hill''. Once I''m done, I want to challenge the First Hill obstacle course to test out."


    Everyone in the gymnasium dropped what they were doing to get closer.


    The lead instructor said, "Hold your horses, kiddo. The seats get a shot at you first. We''ll-"


    Orison interrupted. "Then I''ll take the first seat challenger with Aiden."


    Getting a little red faced, the lead instructor said, "I''ll allow it but if you interrupt me again, you''ll be spending an hour duck walking before you do anything."


    He sensed a trap in the statement. The instructor stopped talking as if waiting for an apology. Orison knew he''d be punished if he spoke because the man would immediately say something but be punished for disrespect if he didn''t apologize. To wiggle his way out, the young mage offered a ''respect to the teacher'' bow with cupped fist as if he was in a dojo.


    As he held it, waiting to be acknowledged to stand straight, the young mage thought, "Your move."


    Conceding the first round of psychological sparring, the instructor opened the floor to the waiting reserve seats.


    As they clamored to be the one chosen, ''Red'' said, "That''s not fair. When I win, you won''t accept it."


    Orison said, "Not only will I accept it, I''ll call you big brother for the rest of the week."


    Aiden''s face lit up like a Christmas tree and said, "Really!? Then you better get ready, my little brother."


    Black lines ran down Orison''s face as a few more eastern term savvy people snickered.


    The cocky youth in red turned towards the sidelines and said, "No one''s allowed to laugh at my little brother but me!"


    While Aiden looked dumbfounded at the handful of people who were trying harder not to laugh and therefor failing worse, Garret leaned in and whispered, "He''s fast and a home trained striker. The one that''s being selected from reserves to join him isn''t well trained but flexible and capable of absorbing punishment before he''ll go down.


    While the lead instructor got everyone calmed back down, the young mage looked over his opponents with faint spirit sight. The boy with a slight green/gray hue to his skin had a strange elasticity to his skeletal structure and Aiden had some kind of enchanted earring that definitely counted as a mild physical enhancer. Orison wanted to complain about how First Hill trainees weren''t allowed equipment of any kind but there was no way that the instructors didn''t know about it. Ultimately, it didn''t really matter that much anyway.


    While the three squared up inside a mat floored area, he noticed that Aidan had a look of innocent glee on his face. There was no malice or contempt at all which conflicted with Orison''s first impression. The kid was just a lonely and socially awkward try-hard, presumably too good to be in accelerator but not good enough for elite. He sympathized that it would be rather hard to make friends if the elite looked down on you but the classmates you were with saw you AS an elite stealing their limelight.


    A little segment of time was given for the sharing of words, mostly used for trash talking. Not into playing dumb games When it was his turn to speak, Orison just asked why Aiden''s title was Prince instead of King of the Hill. The instructor chimed in that he was the king and that would be the same for the other two hills as well. Instructors were number one and only number two was given to student''s during the Three Hills.


    With a final lecture on no special abilities besides internal and passive augments being allowed, the lead instructor blew his whistle to start the spar. A few was curious about what Orison could do but most were just waiting for a quick end so things could get back on track. Sparing a glance over, he noticed that the instructor was more for the second than the first and the young mage smirked at him.

 170 Country of Champions 21

    Aiden wasn''t as cocky or rushed as Orison thought he would be. Readjusting his thinking and observing the patterns of the red loving teen''s fighting style, the young mage bobbed and weaved around the slower student, using him as cover and obstacle. The whole time, Aiden was screaming for ''Stretch'' to get out of the way and for Orison to stop hiding behind him like a coward.


    Once or twice, the poor kid tried to grapple with Orison to slow the young mage down so Aiden could land a hit only to find himself hit instead. Less than a minute in, tired of being Aiden''s sandbag and Orison''s acrobat prop, he tapped out with frustrated tears in his eyes. Wincing and slightly limping, he hobbled over to the first aid station.


    Slightly winded, Aiden backed up and seeing that Orison didn''t follow into the trap he tried to set, said, "What are you going to do now that your rubber turtle shell left?"


    A cry of protest rang out from the first aid station.


    "You spend too much time training alone. Third Wave and the Final Summit require teamwork. Better start learning now or you''re going to stumble at the finish line," the young mage shot back.


    With a bitter look on his face, Aiden said, "It''s not that I don''t wa-"


    Taking advantage of ''Red''s mental distraction, Orison dipped in for a brutal backhand to the side of Aiden''s head. Quick to recover, the teen drove in aggressively instead of out, going for the young mage''s exposed flank. Adjusting for a downward swing, Orison pulled in and half turned in a fluid motion.


    What should have been a clean connect with the back of Orison''s hand, turned into a hard greeting with barely padded knuckles to the temple. As Aiden staggered to the side, the young mage''s fingertip snagged on the earring, partially pulling it out. Disoriented from the ripple of disrupted enchantment, Aiden lunged forward instead of rolling to the side with the flow of broken balance. It saved the teen''s face from a backwards hooking kick but not his chest which took it full on.


    Sparring covers didn''t pad the bottom of the foot. When Orison''s heel connected with something softer than what he expected too, the realization was too slow for him to stop himself. It did stop him from dropping a knee into Aiden''s exposed side where ''he'' was half sprawled on the floor, however. Calling a time-out which Aiden quickly agreed to, Orison knelt down.


    The teen was clutching ''his'' chest with one hand while another attempted to push the backing of the earring into place while whispering nearly in tears, "The post is bent. I can''t get it back on."


    Seeing that people were closing in from all sides for different reasons, Orison asked loudly, "Do you agree to me using item mending and healing magic?"


    To keep from having to have a lengthy and irritating conversation, the young mage said, "I''m taking this as a technical win. If Aiden is unsatisfied with the result, he and I can have a supervised spar at my home''s training facility anytime tomorrow on, after school... Do you accept, ''Mr.'' Firebrand?"


    Still shaky from the enchanted wardrobe malfunction, the teen agreed and said, "You''re getting ready to do the obstacle challenge, right? I''d like to be your partner. Just give me-"


    Orison cut Aiden off and said, "Garret''s my partner for the obstacle course."


    For whatever reason, the instructor said, "It''s not done often because it''s not really that helpful but up to teams of four can take on any early clearance challenge from here, all the way through Final Summit. Captains tasked with first year Rowdies like to see training wheel teams. It saves effort trying to cobble them together or keeping second years from descending on ones like you and Aiden like hungry wolves."


    Pulling Orison in close, the instructor whispered, "If this leaks, Aiden''s going to be lost to front line support and that would be a waste. If you weren''t planning on clearing all the hills today, I strongly suggest you change your mind and take Aiden along for the ride."


    The young mage sighed and whispered back, "And if I don''t, I''m going to catch hell from one side or the other of whatever secret BS is going on here? Fine. Let''s go into the Third Hill virtual reality fight with no group training time and a member whose never really worked with a team. How hard can it be?"


    Ignoring the dripping sarcasm, the instructor said, "That''s the spirit. What''s your mundane item?"


    Orison said, "For the obstacle course? A pair of welding goggles, please."


    The instructor laughed, "I knew it. You were planning on a double clear today anyway."


    "Yeah, and a four day cool down in Juice Box with partner training before hitting Third Hill," the young mage said wearily.


    "Consider it real world situational training for when you''ll be slammed together with strangers trying to defend a camp or evacuating," the instructor said smugly.


    After Garret requested a set of heavy duty rubber gloves and the instructor handed Aiden a nylon rope, while the course was being primed, Orison asked the red loving teen, "Which parts of the obstacle course will you find the most difficult."


    Enduring a little self congratulating bragging, Orison said through gritted teeth, "Damn it. I get it already. You can do it all by yourself but here we are and I need to know."


    Hesitantly, Aiden said, "Well, every once in awhile...not that often... I slip on the high wall. I-I''m not to good with the tingle bars either. They... sometimes they set off my abilities."


    Turning to Garret, he said, "I''ll shoulder lift and push for high wall. You piggyback for the electrified bars?"


    Garret eyeballed Aiden''s weight and nodded. "Looks like these rubber gloves are going to be useful for more than one spot."


    As the three lined up at the starting line, they looked across the course. The real enemy wasn''t obstacles so much as it was the time. With every few seconds that passed, moving parts would move faster. Parts that produced light, heat, cold or electricity would become more intense as well. More time meant more difficult and it was considered dangerous to even attempt crossing Chilly Pond and Boiling Moat if it took more than thirty seconds to reach them.


    The instructor gave Orison a puzzled look when he saw the young mage put on the welding goggles before the challenge started. What would be a huge help with the constant blinding light of the Second Hill''s trial would only cause blindness when the lights weren''t pulsing during the First Hill challenge. That wasn''t why Orison got them, though. It was so he could cheat.


    With spirit sight turned up as strongly as he dared, the young mage scoped out hidden mechanisms that lay beneath the surface. Once the start buzzer rang, he began guiding them across the ''earthquake ground'', avoiding the breakaway tiles completely. It was a smooth beginning but for a slip from Garret into a falling tile that, with Aiden''s help to pull the weighty teen back up, didn''t cost but a fraction of a second.


    The high wall ahead of them was a fitness hurdle for the individual and a time eater for teams. Garret took a running jump and lifted himself into place. Reaching down, he grabbed and helped hoist Aiden up after Orison boosted the light ''guy''. Running slightly to the side, the young mage kicked off the room wall and slid over the top of the obstacle like it was oiled, landing at the same time as the other two. For all the precision, it still cost two more seconds than the original plan.


    With the electrified bars ahead, Orison took a running head start and swung himself up on top, doing a massive leap frog before the bar under him could fold down. Taking a split second to recover his balance, he began running across every other one. Short leaping over to the second bar, Garret started monkey swinging, easily catching up to a pace that had him passing the spots other bars would raise in before they could.


    Aiden, who was clinging to Garret for dear life, was shocked to see how seamless their use of available surface was. The bars were meant to add a little punishment to group runners but they may as well have been going at it alone for as much as they slowed each other down. Not much thought followed as flashes of light and sound disoriented them.


    Taking advantage of the rope that Aiden had, Orison grabbed the middle with Garret and Aiden taking each end and lead them across the two watery parts of the course. All the while, light, sound and temperatures barely within the bound of human tolerance worked their ills as the young mage pulled them around and over time eating objects. It also didn''t go as smoothly as Orison had hoped but only two additional seconds had been lost.


    Once they faced the last obstacle, a suspended net ladder that would flip at the least bit of imbalance, Orison tied the rope around him and took a running leap over two thirds its distance. Before momentum let his weight fully settle, he yanked down with all his force, nearly headbutting the wall he awkwardly grabbed for under the wobbly twist that disrupted his pull-up. Seeing Aidan''s dubious glance at the ladder, Garret didn''t take chances and monkey climbed the ladder on its side with the light teen piggybacking once again, using the rope to get them safely the last bit.


    With all three on top, they hit the buzzer. Despite the careful plans that Orison had made, they would only have seventeen seconds to run Second Hill challenge. He was expecting twenty minimum with a possibility of up to twenty-five. It would have been only a few seconds less than the thirty seconds most had to do to reach it while their goal was moving and no equipment to help.


    Orison looked helplessly at Garret and said, "We have to try. It''s about two seconds less than what I expect it will take but..."


    Aiden said, "This is my fault but I can help. The only thing that makes this hard is the sharp spirit thingies that the ball throws off, right?...It can''t get through my aura."


    Annoyed, Orison said, "It can''t get through mine either but... Wait. Do you not have to retract your aura smaller to resist it?"


    Aiden blinked rapidly a few times. "How do you retract your aura?"


    Orison sighed and said, "Alright, pace yourself with me. If you run faster than I do, then there will be a gap and Garret will get peppered with slivers of spiritual intent and pass out. He takes front for the first quarter of the way because that''s the minimum and then we jump in front. If this gets messed up, redoing it with the thirty second timer while the damn ball slides around is going to be even harder. Without the rubber gloves, he might pass out before he can touch it."


    Aiden was more confused but nodded.


    Orison declared, "We''re running on."


    The instructor said, "You have seventeen seconds. It should be a cakewalk for a mage who''s already strong enough to cast spells."


    Orison sighed again and prepped himself. To help pace and timing, he had Garret grab the rope in the middle while they gabbed the ends behind.


    As a last minute reminder, Orison said, "Remember, Garret. You just have to hit the first twenty-five percent... Run as close as you can behind him without tripping him or yourself, Aiden. Maybe your aura will overlap enough to catch some of the intent assault the ball throws out."


    As soon as the buzzer sounded and they started sprinting to the ball that was throwing out blinding light and sleep inducing intent shards, Orison already saw a huge problem. It was far stronger than it should be. In the little bit of time that he''d had his fight with Aiden and ran the obstacle course, someone behind the scenes had already step forward to screw with them.


    It was a shock and a surprise that Garret had made it a fifth of the way before starting to waver. The guy had undersold his spiritual strength by quite a bit but due to someone''s interference, it still wouldn''t be enough. However, if someone wanted to cheat, he felt he could too.


    Gathering up the remnant pieces of his spirit essence within Garrets body from all the long periods of observation, he forced them to shoot to Garret''s spiritual seat. Loading them with the screaming purpose of keeping the guy awake, they drowned out the lulling voice of the opposing intent. It was enough to get Garret to the switch point. As they ran, using the rope looped around Garret to keep the guy staggering forward, the orb kept ratcheting up intensity.


    When it reached the point that it might possibly damage someone like Garret''s spiritual seat if exposed to it, Orison screamed "Record the orb''s output! Illegal tampering!"


    They reached the Orb and Garret squeezed his arm between them to touch it but he screamed and collapsed right as the timer went off. They had failed.


    Orison was like a building torrent of promised violence as he turned to the instructor and said, "The input to the orb''s was multiplied in intensity over the duration of the test. Just reaching his rubber gloved hand through to touch the damn thing damaged Garret''s spiritual seat. It''s possible that it would have been lethal if he was fully exposed. Tell me someone''s going to lose their job. This is reckless endangerment of a minor, at the very least!


    "Attempted murder isn''t out of the question considering the situation. I fully intend on pressing charges. Garret''s safety is my responsibility as his temporary guardian and because of my trust in this institution, I failed in my responsibility. I WILL NOT fail in getting justice and restitution for him!"


    A woman from the school''s emergency medical response team confirmed that Garret''s ''metaphysical connection point'' did have minor damages. It wasn''t serious but a three day minimum recovery was recommended before resuming physical training. It would be a minimum of one week if an elective medicine that cost 50,000 merits was used and a month without.


    Orison said, "I approve the payment for the medicine but I want it added to the restitution I charge the school with."


    A sneering older woman sauntered into the orb''s testing area. "There is no proof of tampering. It''s just your word, little boy... There''s also no way of knowing if this... person had spiritual seat damage prior to the test or not. People who spend too much time in Juice Box can suffer stress weakness to their MCP. It''s rare but documented. Spiritual seat, indeed. You shouldn''t have tested out so quickly."


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "You know what else is rare but documented?... Every second I spend in a public place. You never know when a person like me might just BLOW UP when I''m wronged by an authority figure abusing their power and hurting people under my care."


    As the woman ramped up to dress down the young mage''s character, Jacques appeared in a flash of light.


    Upon assessing the situation and realizing that Orison''s key word spouting of ''blow up'' referred to temper, he frowned and said, "This usage of Sky Hook is 100,000 merits a shot, my errant apprentice. Since this is the first time you''ve incited panic, from your little friend Roy by the way, it''s a verbal warning. The next time won''t be treated as leniently."


    Orison said excitedly, "I thought he was a night shift person but never mind that for now. Can he verify that the orb was functioning above acceptable levels for the test?... Roy, if you''re listening, they hurt Garret. His spiritual seat was damaged through us AND thick rubber gloves from trying to touch it."


    The woman chimed in, "All of these outrageous allegations are beyond contemptible. Adjunct LeStrange, I demand an explanation from your apprentice!"


    The French man said darkly through an accent thickened from annoyance turning quickly into anger, "And you will receive one. An expert equipment specialist with years of exemplary service experience is reviewing what he personally witnessed as we speak!"


    The woman turned to Orison and said, "Young man, you''re about to bring problems upon yourself that are easily avoided. There''s no need to blow this minor event out of proportion."


    The young mage responded coldly, "Attempted murder of my foster child is not a minor incident, Ms. ''whoever you are''."


    Looking faint, she said, "This is absurd!"


    "I couldn''t agree more. Abuse of authority to harm a minor at an institution that the general public needs to have utmost faith in is incredibly absurd," Orison shot back venomously.


    Jacques, used to playing diplomat, summoned up a compassionate face and was preparing to talk Orison down when he received an audio message only he could hear. That impulse disappeared as he looked at the woman in shock instead.


    The man said, "Justice department psychometry personnel request orange. Sky Hook authorization yellow."


    As Orison left the scene to check on Garret, Aiden followed along. "Please believe me. This doesn''t have anything to do with me and my situation. My father might try to pull something minor but he would never do something to hurt another kid. If he was willing to go that far, I would have been disqualified a long time ago."


    The young mage said, "Your aura envelope is riddled with holes and leaking too much essence. Go see the medical team."

 171 Country of Champions 22

    There was no Third Hill push. In fact, there was no Accelerator session. All the students in the Rowdies course were sent home early. Orison was just glad that Rio hadn''t been there. There''s no telling how much more of a nightmare things would have been if the teen had pressed himself into their group somehow. He adjusted his plans somewhat to teach the kid how to draw in and release aura at the expense of some healing model guidance.


    Once Garret was dropped off by the medical team, Orison got him situated in his room just in time to receive a call from Janet. As much as he didn''t want to, the young mage authorized a visit so that Babs could see her brother as soon as their mother promised to be calm and supportive. It didn''t end up being the sideshow drama that he thought it would be.


    After Janet talked with her son for a bit, she voluntarily left to give her daughter some alone time with Garret. "I saw that you immediately posted the highest charge you could and demanded restitution... Good on you. But what a mess! Was it my fault? Was someone targeting you or was that girl''s father dead set on keeping Adena from becoming a Rowdy?


    "I''d love to be able to point the finger at you and talk him into coming home but until I''m sure it isn''t my fault, how would I dare. I don''t have the clout to protect him that you obviously do. I know I can be a selfish b*tch sometimes but I never want to see my kids get hurt and it tears me up that my stupid mistakes have already cost Garret so much."


    Blandly, Orison said, "It was just yesterday that you extorted 100,000 merits from me and stabbed holes into the hearts and childhood memories of your children... I''m not ready to play priest for confessionals yet. What I AM ready to do is make dinner and I have to get some honey cakes made on top of that.


    "A pair of helping hands in the kitchen is about as truce worthy as I''m ready to be at the moment. If that works for you, we need to get started. Rio''s going to be home in less than an hour and I have training to help him with."


    For whatever reason, the siblings decided to come downstairs and caught Orison bantering with Janet over how to make butter crumble.


    The young mage looked up and said, "If you needed something, I''d have brought it up to you. Why are you already out of bed?"


    Garret''s eyes rolled and he said, "I''m not an invalid. They told me to rest if I''m tired and walk if I''m restless. Other than taking it easy, they told me to let someone know if I suddenly had thoughts of harming myself. And, no, before you ask. I just feel drained."


    Rio came in with Glenn and Orison quickly headed off a protest about not allowing company over but inviting his own. Once the hot headed teen was informed of the situation, he apologized and everyone enjoyed a peaceful meal. Wrapping up the visit when she started angling around about making it a regular event, Orison called transport service and authorized his second use of the teleporter for the day to Janet and her daughter. The only thing he promised was to think about it.


    He found himself having far too much to think about, really. With all the uncertainty hanging over them, Orison decided to not take Esme up on her offer. A few minutes later, that kindly delivered but adamant refusal was repeated for Trisha. Somehow she thought that there was a small chance the young mage was hoping to hear from her instead.


    He might have gotten himself off the hook for a boring dinner date but that didn''t save him completely. Trisha wormed her way into a visit with her cousin. With A week withdraw from school until the investigation of the orb incident was complete, Daphne wasn''t content with a few calls and wanted to see her ''bae'' in person. Since the young mage had already stretched Rio''s limits when he got the teen to agree on a week home training house arrest, he didn''t think it was a good idea to keep the ''tragic lovers'' apart.


    Despite being home bound, the next couple of days were hectic and filled with activities and discoveries. Over video chat, Orison''s alchemy instructor certified him as a commercial alchemist and opened up her dusty old personal journals to give him some insight into potioneering and personal use alchemy not cleared for public sale. Since he wasn''t going to strive for government sanctioned reagents specialist, the old instructor really didn''t have much else she could teach and offered to refund a portion of his tuition. He quickly disagreed and asked if it would be alright to call her up once in awhile if he had questions which she readily agreed to.


    In training, Rio discovered that his aura was stretchy and malleable. He could even saturate a light object made from organic material with his spirit essence and it would stick for a time instead of immediately dissipating. As long as it had ''bathed'' in his aura, Rio could burn the essence to remote control its movement and at shorter distances, he got the sense that he could hear and see through them as well but it was so loose and vague it didn''t have any practical use as of yet.


    Under Orison''s direction, Rio learned about shikigami, Feng Shui and a bit about Astrology. Since Rio wasn''t really interested in fortune telling or Geomancy, the young mage ordered him a book on origami and a few reams of traditionally made rice paper, leaving it at that. The kid was smart, imaginative and had a touch of intuition himself. Orison didn''t want to dull Rio''s ability to self motivate growth by spoon feeding too much.


    Garret took to leisure swims in the lake to help deal with the negative effects of the medicine that was given to him. The ''frost salt'' compound synthetically derived from something called ''glacial tears'', an import from Iceland, had a soothing and healing effect on spiritual damage but induced depression and even anxiety in more active people. Orison loathed to imagine what the natural source did before alchemical production tapered down the side-effects at the cost of some of its healing properties.


    The first couple of times that Garret went out, Orison kept a spiritual eye on the teen to make sure that nothing tragic would occur but it really did seem to help. Garret even managed to make acquaintance with neighbors. Siblings born less than a year apart with a strong but not off putting dolphine-like mutation frequently trespassed the outer mile lakeside boundary of the young mage''s homestead. They were not only friendly but a little enamored with the still slightly too heavily muscled but not quite as hulking teen.


    The just nineteen and almost twenty year old siblings were serving their first year in Planar Response but were almost always ''on call'' due to their incredibly useful but rather specialized aquatic abilities. With names like El and Em mixed with natural features that blended or hid certain physical traits, it was difficult to determine, at a glance, what gender they were. But when Orison offered to tell Garret, the teen didn''t think it was ''right'' to pry.


    It seemed more likely that the teen enjoyed the combination of playful but rather intimate skinship mixed with mostly platonic affection he was building with them. As long as Garret left their gender a ''Schrodinger''s cat'', he didn''t have to feel awkward about the first and could restrain himself from ruining the second. For a person who bounced from one girl to another, experiencing easy gratification but little genuine affection, having a relationship that was the complete opposite was an entirely good thing in the young mage''s eyes.


    ***


    Early Wednesday, Orison received a call from Liberty. Ever practical minded, she set up video calls with the four selections he had made to meet before clearing a Sky Hook Green authorization pick-up. Two of which, including the other independent that WASN''T Stag, were straight up scam artists with convincing stories. The last, not so much.


    A man named Jay connected with the young mage''s touchscreen from a country nursing home located near some forgettable place close to the lower middle of the Northwest continent. He had made inquiries about the young mage on behalf of an elderly woman who had a schizophrenic break shortly before showing signs of dementia. No one knew her real name as she was a homeless lady before she had been admitted but she would sometimes claim to be a person named Medea and sometimes a person called Granny Georgia.


    He didn''t speak long with the big hearted young man but silently made note to figuring out a way to pay Jay back before he was put on the line with the old woman. The young man struggled to get her attention and when he finally did, the old woman took one look at the screen with remarkably clear and lucid eyes before looking back out the window. Thinking that he lost her again he began trying to coax her attention back.


    The bedridden old lady snapped, "I know he''s there. Can''t you see me trying to figure out what I''m going to say?"


    Softening her tone she added, "Sorry Jaybird. You did all that for me and here I am, biting your head off."


    The young man said, "It''s alright, Medea. I know you have to be hurting something awful without the meds."


    She said, "Can''t think on them things. I have to be able to think. I don''t have much longer to worry about it anyway."


    Jay chuckled and replied, "You''re going to outlive us all. No need to talk like that."


    Looking at the young man sharply before giving a sly glance at the touchscreen, she said, "You got that right. It just isn''t going to be here. Now hush, I''ve got to get it all put together right in my head before I talk to the little orphan on the funny block you got in your hands."


    Looking outside, the old woman said, "You know my sweet little boy''s going to be calling for me soon... The trees told me so. I don''t like his fiance but I''ll try to get along with her for his sake."


    Seeing Jay start to frown, Orison said, "This is for her, anyway. If she wants to ramble, let her."


    The old woman huffed. "Rambling... My sake!? Boy, I''d tan your hide if I could reach through there."


    Orison said, "I don''t doubt it... I hope your boy''s doing well and thank the tree for me. Tell that fiance of his that if he doesn''t treat the two of you well, I''ll pluck her feathers and make dumplings out of her a**."


    Medea cackled so hard she started weakly coughing and wheezing. "Damn it, boy. Are you trying to kill me before I can finish?... Before he picks me up, I was thinking about swinging by my old haunts. While I''m taking your daddy''s youngest sibling to task and giving your grandpa''s wife some advice on how to be a proper guardian spirit, you got anything you''d like me to pass on?"


    Eyes already misting a little in dread certainty on what he was about to witness, Orison said, "Tell mom that I love her. Tell dad that if he wants to call me son, I''m good with it and he needs to quite farting around. His lover''s going to be born soon if she isn''t already. Tell everyone else that I give a damn about that I hope they''re doing well. And if you meet anyone that''s causing grief to them, tell them to wash their necks. It might take some time but I''ll be there eventually."


    Still looking out the window, the old woman nodded once before her eyes dulled and her jaw grew slack. Jay was about to call a nurse when her toothless mouth snapped shut and she turned to the touchscreen with eyes that were a little wild.


    Speaking in a voice that was harsh and foreign but oddly understandable only to Orison, she said, "Do not dig the glowing stone from the wall. Behind is not water but void and death. Use the power of the place to call it to you... Take what you desire from the Red Moon''s palace but imbibe not the essence save for what lies in food and drink. All else is perilous poison. To the Abyss with the rest. To Noxflora, dedicate it.


    "I willingly take upon myself the darkness of Medea and this moon touched crone''s which we have ridden. May they fly to the bosom of their loved ones as I fall to the bosom of mine. May it never be said that I, Georgia De Marchand, do not keep her oaths and repay her favors."


    As the old woman''s eyes glazed over, a chilling death rattle escaped her labored chest. Orison caught a brief glimpse of three barely visible ethereal streamers exit the old woman''s head before the call was abruptly ended. He took a moment of silence to will them a safe journey before prompting Liberty for the last call.


    Stag''s smiling and excited face dipped a few notches upon seeing Orison''s solemn one. "I was hoping for a more cheerful reception..."


    "Sorry. I just witnessed the passing of a crazy old lady that was possessed... It affected me a little," the young mage said.


    Whatever planned words Stag was prepared to say fell into grinding gears, not quite sure how to follow that up.


    Orison shook his thoughts free and said, "So, I have a proposition for you, stranger. Are you tired of your comfortable life of luxury and debauchery? Ready to face immeasurable danger for barely better income than your club probably earns you? Then do I have a deal for you... Come on down to the world''s frosty butt cheeks and train with me for high risk, mediocre rewards and all the commonplace annoyances your current life is sorely lacking in."


    Wryly, Stag said, "Care to give me a reason to go that won''t look suspicious if I agree to it?"


    The young mage said, "I can give you three. Independents who flourish outside of the established system get squashed or disappear. Knowledge and resources you need to improve will NEVER be available to you as an independent without hidden costs and traps..."


    Stag smirked and said, "I''ve never been that good at math but I only counted two there."


    Orison grinned and said, "I was wavering between having better cupcakes or free hugs but I''ll settle for this instead. With every string I can pull, intake is going to be a minimum of three days. And if you don''t get to intake in the next three hours, there''s a good chance you''ll miss the only party I''ll be personally throwing for who knows how long."


    Stag said, "You had me at better cupcakes. So, how am I going to get there in under three hours. Antarctica''s not exactly a short car drive away."


    Orison said, "I''m paying for a Sky Hook. Liberty said that with a Green authority level, you should give a half hour leeway. 200 lbs is your luggage limit and there is heavy tariff on supernatural goods aside from artifacts that have been approved as legacy items."


    "All the trouble I took to get my driver''s license and I can''t bring my car?" Stag said, looking almost brokenhearted.


    "They''re more trouble than they''re worth here," Orison said with a saintly smile.


    With unreasonable time and weight constraints, Stag ended the call to handle affairs and pack as best he could. And with that bit of business finally behind him, Orison went back to etching spirit bottles. Ever since the surprise attack of his plans by the testing orb, the young mage had been beefing up and personalizing security around the lake house with all the free time he had. It was also good practice for Rio who had been enlisted to help charge the various circles, sigils and magic/spirit traps spread throughout a mile radius of their home.


    While hectic business as usual continued on through Thursday, Orison received a notification that the investigation had concluded. He, Garret and Adena (Aiden) were considered to have passed the Second Hill''s test. And after reviewing performance records, were passed on to First Wave without the need for a virtual reality exam for Third Hill. They''d have to take some remedial combat training before they could declare anymore test outs, however.


    In a fortuitous twist, the two sides battling for the future of the red loving girl benefited rather than hindered Orison and Garret. Unwilling to let the girl slip through their fingers, the Rowdies educational directors used the botched trial to push her up along with the two young men out of necessity. Her father, not to be slighted without consequence, pushed for maximum restitution to all involved.


    Receiving the same notice, Garret said, "Do you need, um, any of this?"


    Orison smiled and shook his head. "All yours, buddy... Any plans for it?"


    Garret smiled and said, "I''m setting up twenty and ten years worth of birthday gift card deliveries for Casey and Babs. I got the feeling that Casey''s legal parents barely accepted but it doesn''t push the line too much for them... Do you think I''d be dumb for sending some to mom too?"


    The young mage thought for a moment and said, "She''s your mom. Behind the warts, I don''t get the feeling she''s completely rotten. Now, I think you''d be dumb handing it to her directly. Taking a chunk out of her debt would probably be the way I''d go. Well, maybe a little to let her hang loose for a weekend or two might help her state of mind."


    Garret took a moment to mentally process and added, "What about your Gold day pass? Which place were you thinking about visiting?"


    Orison said, "After thinking it through, I have to agree with Aurora. For people who need as close to the real deal as possible to get some good UV, the water park is the only way to go. I laid out by the lake and it was like trying to roast a chicken under a weak heat lamp."


    Chuckling, Garret asked, "What''s your obsession with tanning about?"


    Doing his best Daphne impression, the young mage said, "Because I don''t want to be like... Goth pale or Punk Rock pale."


    Taking a more serious tone, he added, "Aside from the vanity, laying out like that feels something like a million tiny finger massage. It''s hard to explain and I blame it on my dad''s heritage."

 172 Country of Champions 23

    Friday morning, Glenn was back to collect Rio for training at another facility.


    Unable to help himself, he asked, "Do you actually cook breakfast and supper everyday?"


    The young mage shook his head. "It''s part of Garret''s regimen until his muscles and bones settle into their new normal. It''s going to get a lot more ''fend for yourself'' around here after that."


    Seeing Rio get a touch more bitter and sullen, he added, "But since our schedules are getting a bit out of sync, I''ve decided to double Rio''s allowance to 2,000 a week so he can eat out once in awhile without dipping into his date budget."


    Rio''s mood improved slightly and he thanked Orison but he still looked like something was eating him. The young mage looked to Glenn with a question in his eyes.


    The brownie blooded man said, "The training facility he went to on Monday has some children of elites that use it as well. It''s common to have to borrow or even share gear at the Education Center''s gym but in the crucible, certain pieces of gear need to be fitted. Blue Rose pulled some strings to get him in but he has to find a way to provide his own personalized gear."


    Orison asked, "What''s the facility''s benefit and how much is the gear?"


    Glenn said, "Well, it''s two actually. The first half of the Crucible is a set of rooms that helps safely raise resistances for a human body. To be able to use the facility fully, he''d need around 40,000 in personalized gear. We''ve been focusing on the part of the second half that doesn''t but he''s already soaked all he can from the healing factor suite. The condenser suite that raises bone and cellular density requires a gear set that runs about 20,000."


    After looking over a few things on The Weird, Orison laughed in scorn. "So, let me get this straight. It''s a facility that''s capable just a little over half the time of turning a mundane human body into the equivalent of the so called ''broad spectrum E-class''. In reality, it''s a well rounded human that''s just slightly better in comparison to an average of the top ten percent of the human population.


    "He''ll have to be there for nearly a month to get the most out of it and there''s a good chance that some of this gear is going to need replacing two or three times. What cost the Blue Rose nothing more than a ''pretty please'' is going to cost Rio somewhere around 120,000 merits before it''s all said and done... It''s pampered kiddie bullsh*t to put Rio in his place.


    "During Summit training, the Chaos Chambers do the same thing with no special gear. It hurts. It requires healing but it''s also more effective. Most importantly, it''s not a waste of time for people who''ve done other resistance trainings or taken supernatural supplements to do. If there was an overall performance increase of ten percent from this watered down second generation elite garbage, I''d be shocked to death."


    The young mage sneered. "Glenn, you tell Esme that she can see Rio at Rowdies Accelerator this afternoon. When he shows up, he''ll no longer be needing the favor of access to that jellyfish clubhouse because he''ll already be improved past what it can help with... I guess the strings I can pull are just a little bit better and don''t waste other people''s time and resources."


    Popping out in a cold sweat, Glenn said, "Do you mind if I break that news a little more diplomatically?"


    Orison said, "Yeah. I''m just a little heated over implied insults and Rio''s unnecessary embarrassment... Garret, you stay too. Now that you''re in the family, so to speak, I''m not going to start playing favorites."


    Empty handed, Glenn left looking puzzled but not daring to ask how Orison planned on accomplishing the feat he just suggested. After the young mage closed the door, he turned around and saw that Garret looked confused and Rio was mortified and slightly angry for some reason."


    "Garret, I''ll explain in just a second... Rio, take two deep breaths. As soon as you have your emotions under control, tell me what has you so worked up," Orison said while trying to check his own mildly flared temper.


    It ended up being a handful of hormone fueled half understandings of situations and motivations. He thought that Orison WAS playing favorites. He thought that the young mage was trying to control his actions and future options among other minor gripes that had been accumulating over the last week.


    He addressed the teen. "Here in a couple of hours, our new roommate is going to arrive and tomorrow another. After that, my circle closes unless it''s a damn good reason. Let''s forget the 300,000 merit debt I soaked up for you and the additional 300,000 that you spent unsupervised. I gave you seven spells and a low tier artifact. Let''s forget that I cover your basic needs and more besides...


    "When Gan gets here and after I introduce you two, we''re going to break the no alcohol rule. Why? Well, Gan likes to drink. He''s been through hell and I''m not a hypocrite. More importantly, the alcohol we''ll be toasting with is special. To call it medicine is far from an exaggeration and more of an understatement. By the time we do our toasts and the two of you are legally sober, The Crucible will do nothing for you because a morning special occasion ''tipsy'' will have improved you beyond its ''one month long and costly gear'' ability to add to.


    "But I''m not a tyrant. If you''d rather do a month of The Crucible instead of a few shots of super liquor, be my guest... I will admit to one thing. I have meddled with your future options, Rio. Why? Because I know things that you don''t and if you don''t want to get stuck here, giving me no choice but to leave you behind, some paths aren''t yours to take.


    "So, be clear with me. Do you want full control of your life and choices or do you want to not be left behind because sometimes, I won''t have the luxury of walking you through things before I have to make a decision. I make mistakes and I have a temper too but despite my flaws, I''m asking you to trust me anyway.


    "There are things I can''t tell you right now and not because of Garret. If you can''t accept that, you don''t have to but don''t expect me to wear myself out trying to keep you from falling into pits while you fight me. I don''t owe you anything. I help you because I want to.


    "Feel free to keep being you. Hell, half the things that make you endearing one moment are the things that drive me nuts the next. You''re an annoying but likable boy on the verge of becoming an irritating but admirable man. I''m not trying to change you and I''m not trying to ''steal'' your freedom.


    "I AM asking you to trust me to make decisions without consulting you if it''s necessary. The moment the answer to that question becomes no, start preparing to part ways. That''s not a threat or an ultimatum. It''s just simple the way it is because things are going to be hard enough."


    Orison could see the disgust that Garret was shooting Rio and warned him to silence. To the guy who had grown up on the impoverished side of the system, Rio''s complaints sounded like the whining of the privileged. But to Rio, looking through the window at the life of children of true elites, it wasn''t much different than Garret probably looked at what Orison and Rio had. It was all about starting point and expectations.


    Rio''s constipated face smoothed out and he said, "You could have just said that we''re ditching school to get buzzed. I''m down."


    Orison chuckled, "You''re ditching half a day to take some medicine. There''s a huge difference."


    Garret asked, "If you were planning on it anyway, why haven''t we done it yet?"


    The young mage said wryly. "Because I was planning on doing it all on Saturday. You''re not quite seventeen and Rio isn''t quite sixteen. Medicine or not, it''s underage drinking and I''d prefer to limit it to once rather than breaking it up. If it wasn''t a supplement, it wouldn''t happen at all.


    "To be honest though, the two I''m going to give you guys today aren''t a part of the Saturday party anyway. So, I guess it doesn''t matter that much but I was just going to use them to keep you from trying to pace the adults. When you run out of the amount that would be useful to you during the party, that''s it. You don''t have to pretend that you don''t enjoy it or anything but not a single drop more than what''s beneficial to you will pass your lips."


    Getting a little worked up, Garret said, "I''ve heard about this. About seven or eight years back, a plane produced a huge batch of two new supplements that had to be suspended in alcohols to help the body digest them. For a couple of years, elite''s kids were throwing Triple Seven and Spade Flower parties all the time."


    Getting grim, Orison warned, "Not a word. Not to anyone. I''m neither confirming or denying anything.


    Rio, who was in the process of getting ready to text Daphne, stopped and looked at Orison. "I can''t tell my girlfriend? She was already coming over for the welcome party with her grandma."


    The young mage rubbed his forehead. "With her grandma? Okay... Thanks for that slip you didn''t tell me about. It is what it is. No one else and no heads up pre-party talks or bragging. I mean it Rio. If you break MY trust, you''re going to be cut from the loop here on out. We have too many secrets to keep.


    Looking sad, Rio said, "I can keep secrets, Sonny. I just thought it was a welcome party. Even if it was a supplement party, it''s not like they don''t happen but I can get why you''d not want to broadcast it. Can you at least trust me enough to say how important something is in private? We were here a whole week on lock down."


    Orison sighed. "We were thrown together fast and I figured that less shared is less worries. It''s my bad on this one but moving forward remember to default privacy settings and clear things with me first... With your family background, I know you can keep a secret. It''s just that there''s a lot we still don''t know about each other. Let''s compromise, cut each other some slack and work on that. Sound like a deal?"


    He reached his hand out and when Rio grabbed it for a handshake, Orison pulled the teen in for a hug.


    While Rio froze, the young mage looked at Garret and said, "You want in on this uncomfortable bonding moment or are you good?"


    Whatever war took place in Garret''s mind over a split second, he bulldozed through and went in for a double one-armed bear hug that had both Orison and Rio tapping out after a couple of seconds. The seemingly unimportant moment registered as being a great deal more so to the young mage''s intuition. It was the moment that Rio and Garret stopped being strangers that were polite with each other and Orison for the sake of benefits. They set up a new wall labeled ''us'' on one side and ''them'' on the other.


    As they waited for transport to drop off their new roommate, Orison noted that they were more excited than he was on the surface. They were still young enough that something as simple as playing a little hooky and getting a legitimate reason to ''get a buzz'' early on a weekday was thrilling. No matter how they had been exposed to some of the more visceral experiences of being an adult before their time, they were still young and relatively unjaded.


    It made his heart hurt a little that in less than a year or so from the moment they were sitting in that room, chances were good that one of them would have killed another intelligent being. Just as good that they will have lost someone they knew, possibly even liked. In another two years, that possibility became almost a guarantee. He was reminded of what Justice said to him the first day they met.


    Avalon was built on the bodies of its citizens. And no matter how ugly it was that these youths were pushed and pressured to join that seemingly endless fight, what other choice was there? In the meantime, Avalon grew richer from the spoils of planar conflict at the cost of an ever increasing body count.


    It made the young mage wonder. If they found a way to end the planar breaches for good, would they do it? Was there a possibility that that they had already but chose not to or maybe even were responsible for them in some way?


    For the first time since he set his plans on the route he now walked, there was a slight wavering of his determination. Not so much for himself but for those he was dragging into it. The more he dwelt on it, the less unsure he felt.


    Garret had chosen that path for himself long before Orison came into the picture, he only stood more to gain. Gan was Gan. Stag wasn''t coerced in any way but Rio, he had been. The young mage needed to know if climbing is what the kid actually wanted, needed to know that Rio actually understood the dangers and the costs of that choice.


    When Garret went to use the bathroom, Orison gave Rio the ''Lily speedy special'' breakdown and tried to explain as simply and concisely as he could what the teen would be giving up to embrace such a thing. The young mage didn''t ask for an answer, didn''t feel like he needed to know Rio''s reasons for doing or not doing. He just asked for a heads-up if Rio wanted off the ride and let the teen take all the time he needed to find the answer.


    He pretended not to notice that Garret had accidentally eavesdropped the conversation. In the best of situations, it was hard to bring up. The older teen had family he wanted to provide for and no talent for magic. Even if Garret wanted to be a climber, an opportunity needed to present itself for Orison to manipulate. In letting the guy overhear, the teen would have ample time to consider it and either approach Orison himself or at least be ready to choose if there was an opportunity to present him with.


    Garret and Rio grew quiet and contemplative. The young mage didn''t need much imagination to figure out what was spinning their gears but it was something they''d need to work thorough on their own. It was the loudest and most entertaining silence Orison had ever sat in.


    Rio was nearly bursting with questions he couldn''t ask because he didn''t know if Garret was ''cool'' enough for Orison to be okay with it. Garret was no less dying of curiosity but afraid to say anything because he was under the impression that he heard something he shouldn''t have. The young mage fully intended on letting them stew in that until Sunday.


    A little after eight, the sound of car wheels on gravel grabbed their attention. The person escorted to the door wasn''t the one who Orison was expecting, however. A completely sedated Stag was carted in along with a large gym bag and a foot locker. The man who brought him in explained that minimum concentration ''aqua vitae'' had been approved a few days prior. There was next to no response of increased cellular activity but it had been a good thing for Stag in the long run because his body showed signs of allergic rejection to something in the compound used.


    "The sedative will wear off in a couple of hours. It was administered to keep him from scratching himself raw while he was treated. When he wakes up, he should be perfectly fine but don''t hesitate to call if he''s still complaining of burning or itching sensations," the man said before asking where to transfer Stag.


    Under the sound of a few muttered protests, Garret and Orison helped the man transfer Stag to the add-on room to the rear of the house on the wooded side. As soon as the green haired man was settled in, the driver left the house like he was going to a fire. The action tickled Orison''s intuition but it wasn''t a major draw so he let it go.


    He was starting to get aggravated. When Stag arrived, it was already a quarter past when Gan was supposed to get there. The young mage strode to the door, ready to call for transport and find out what was going on when his world was washed out by a sea of shadowy echoes of himself. One of which was so clear and distinct that it didn''t appear much different to his real self, even to Garret and Rio.

 173 Country of Champions 24

    In the split second before the ''colorful echo'' joined him, the young mage felt like reality hiccuped as he skipped forward a few seconds. Confused, he felt a weight in his hands and realized he was hold a miniature version of the spiny ''transposition'' device from the temple he''d seen in the illusion world.


    Annoyed at the self correction, he briefly thought, "Whether time is a stack of slides that all exist at the same time and represent a spatial direction or a ''stream'', you still have to travel the damn things. So, what''s wrong with the label ''time travel''? It''s a freaking time traveling device."


    His thoughts were interrupted when he saw that the device was disintegrating. Under Orison''s eyes, the remaining fist sized core of the device turned into a copy of his mini trainer he assumed hadn''t made the trip into this world. Densely packed information, completely devoid of unnecessary detail or emotional flavor began decompressing inside the young mage''s mind.


    A few minutes later, Orison was sitting at the dining room table assuring his companions he was fine. He dabbed a thin trickle of blood from his nose and healed the redness from an eye that had busted a blood vessel as he processed the things revealed to him. He had received several years worth of alternate future information and if he had gotten it from the ''colorful echo'' of himself instead, it would have taken a long time for his mind to recover from the onslaught.


    Looking at Rio and Garret, he said, "Hold tight for a minute. I''ll be right back."


    The young mage walked out to the training bunker and used an authorization code to open the floor panel. With a drain of personal power, he appeared at the planar hub building via the hidden magic based transport circle.


    As he walked towards a half dome isolation field containing a football field''s worth of Kansas farm land and a mostly destroyed barn, an older man''s voice rang out, "Hold it there, youngster. The Plague Barren''s rip stabilizer went offline nearly an hour ago. We don''t have the spare energy to open it back up for whatever fool''s errand you''re on."


    An angry vein of annoyance popped out on the young mage''s head that was already pounding like a smith at the anvil. "Bring me a black gold battery box with a minimum three cell chain."


    The older man grinned a little evilly. "Oh, did the UTF trade off some executed independent trash life force again? Irregular Criminal Division is going to cry tears of relief they don''t have to bargain anymore of their golden years off for awhile."


    Orison said darkly, "Your compassion for human life leaves me misty eyed... Battery, please."


    Offhandedly, he tossed the cube chain back to the the older man as if he didn''t care and failed to inform the greedy eyed gentleman that he had logged the transfer, visually recording the energy level content with The Weird. On a vengeful and petty base level, the young mage sincerely hoped that the man would give into the greed or hate and create a line of clerical errors. Unfortunately, the man caught a ghost of a smile on the young mage''s face when the cubes were inserted into the portal device without documentation.


    It took another half an hour of the man moving as slowly as production protocol would allow as the result of premature gloating. Orison mentally kicked himself for letting the mask slip but sighed and tolerated. Expecting an act of foul play Orison hopped quickly to the other side and pulled a line of the energy over with him as the older man tried to shut down the device.


    Looking through to the other side, the young mage said. "Now I have you trying to trap me over here, trying to waste Adjunct LeStrange''s time to come fetch me. TRY something else. I want to see if I can instill some sympathy for someone else''s poor decision making plight when you''re selling your own ''golden years'' over in Criminal Division... And f*** you!"


    "And when did you ask me to keep the rift open with the rip stabilizer, you little sh*t? You think you''re the only one recording?" the older man said smugly.


    Orison smiled and said, "Underneath the hate, I think I might respect you a little bit... Eat a cheeseburger and die, fossil!"


    Fading into the distance as he walked towards the Captain''s office among the most comfortable looking fortress accommodations he''d ever seen, the young mage heard, "Enjoy your minimum three day quarantine for crossing a portal line without proper protective gear."


    It took another code word to get the Rowdy on guard at the captain''s office to let him in. Under other circumstances it would have been a dumb move but Dr. Odd wouldn''t be reading anymore messages and LeStrange would have his hands full trying to cover for the Triumvir over the 72 hours it would take to confirm missing status. Orison, had no intention of letting his instructor hang on the hook for so long. He merely wanted to handle personal business first.


    Hearing the shower going in the adjoining room, he flipped through his options and decided to take the low road a little and helped himself to the captain''s chair. He thought about kicking his feet up onto the desk but decided that even though the good captain had done him a little dirty, it was for reasons he could appreciate for Gan''s sake. After all, under normal circumstances he''d have no trouble patiently waiting a little over a week so his friend could help a friend''s friend to some extra ''decontamination scrubbing'' time.


    Amused with his own mental twisting, Orison muttered, "The Plague Barrens is a dirty place, after all."


    The captain came in first, discretely towel covered while he picked up pieces of his uniform with a great deal more personal dignity than Orison would have had in his place.


    "Whose son am I talking to so I know whose a** I need to kiss after kicking yours," the man said as he paced towards the young mage with a tiger''s intimidating grace.


    Orison said blandly, "Grab three shot glasses or some pain pills. Considering that Jacques would miss his own funeral to attend the toast I plan on making, I would suggest the first."


    Fumbling with an awkward side zipper on the uniform that barely fit, Gan came rushing out of the private shower room and said, "Orison, I''m glad to finally meet you.


    The scout quickly moved forward and reached out a hand to block the captain''s forward stalk and so that the man wouldn''t see the happiness dancing in his eyes.


    Eyes nearly in crescents himself, the young mage said, "I''m holding an energy line to the rip stabilizer. So, I''m going to delay that handshake for just a little while for safety''s sake."


    It didn''t escape the young mage''s notice that the captain stepped around Gan rather than move him out of the way as he strode closer.


    "Take one more step towards me with that look on your face and we won''t be having that ''Ice and Fire'' toast I planned, sir," Orison said as he set an uncracked bottle on the table with a 481 of 500 maker''s seal on it.


    While Gan had an odd look on his face, trying to figure out why Orison was riling up the guy, the captain said, "The shot glasses are in the top drawer. Are you going to insult me further by trying to play host in my own office?"


    The young mage stood up with a smile and said, "No. I just wanted to rub the fur the wrong way a little for nearly delaying Mr. Fyrstr''s delivery to me for eight days during a critical time."


    The glance Gan shot the man was not a kind one as the captain said, "What could be so important in a student''s life that an extra week would be so tragic? You can''t utilize a training partner beyond the age of twenty until Second Summit... That''s what I thought until you pulled that bottle out anyway."


    Seeing the man pull out three tumblers, Orison said, "A shot worth is fine for me. I''m doing it for goodwill and I have to take the bottle with me because I have two mouths at home waiting for their turn. It''s a shame it doesn''t store after opening it."


    For the first time since they laid eyes on each other, there was a little easing of tension as the man said, "Your shame is my good fortune then. I hope that means you brought something I can keep."


    Orison smiled and said, "I did but we have another you can''t to get through first. So, take it easy or you''re not going to be fit for duty. Two fingers is measured with the index and middle not index and pinky, Captain Rogers."


    "Please. We''re in the comfort of my office. Call me Adam. It''s embarrassing enough when some grunt calls out to me at Core Command and five or six heads pop up to see what patch is on the uniform. It''s the only way to figure out which Captain Rogers is being called," The man said with a weak smile.


    After Adam passed out the tumblers, the slightly larger glass worth being handed to Gan, Orison said, "I originally meant the first toast to be for doing what you could to look after the man who destroyed the UTF device I hate the most on this planet. But after seeing the situation, I think that would be a little unintentionally cheeky. How about to the possibility of new friendships and helping each other honor old ones."


    Going through the motions of the toast, Adam almost choked on his first swallow which Orison could only think wouldn''t feel very pleasant considering the contents of the tumblers.


    Thrown a little for a loop, Adam said hesitantly, "Are you, um, wanting to be a part of our... friendship?"


    Orison laughed after the burn in his stomach settled and said, "By the surface meaning, sure. Not so much the implied... No offense. I''m sure there are plenty of people who would appreciate your... friendship."


    Adam smiled bitterly and slowly worked towards a more jovial one. "Mostly for the wrong reasons... I don''t know whether to be relieved or remorseful. In a few years, your future Rowdies hopeful might be able to find my willingness to make friends quite easily, Gan."


    Orison rolled his eyes at the good-natured threats and playful banter that broke out as he stored away the first bottle and set out the second. Adam''s half of the conversation stopped when he saw the picture of a spiny purple potato. The maker''s seal bore a 9992 of 10000.


    "You''ve got a big pair to pull that out in front of a Rogers family member. There are plenty that would kill you to keep it. I may be a black sheep but even I have a nephew I''ve never really been able to do something good for whose life would be changed overnight with that," Adam said.


    Orison said with a saintly smile, "Garret never knew you cared. Don''t worry. He''s one of the two mouths I was talking about earlier. Please measure carefully. There''s only six shots to a bottle and I have a Rogers family member who needs that last one. The best part is, they don''t even know they are one."


    As Adam passed the glasses back, he said, "There''s an interesting story behind the creation of Demon''s D*ck. Do you know it?"


    Orison nodded and smiled a little wickedly. "I know both but how about I let you do the toasting first."


    More interested in getting drink down the gullet, the captain gave a generic toast to health and the three of them threw it back.


    Quickly sitting down as a sense of numbness washed over them, Gan said, "I-I don''t think I like this one very much. The taste, texture, name and the picture on the bottle make me feel like I did something wrong. The pins and needles making my whole body like a leg that got sat on too long doesn''t help."


    Orison said, "It wasn''t made with purely good intentions but the later half of the batch was doctored a little. If not for the numbness, we''d be on the floor gritting our teeth to keep from screaming... The name and picture are suggestive but it''s still a mash created from a potato, no matter how weird the potato is. The funny flavor and thickness is from a bit of preservative and starch."


    With an odd look on his face, Adam said, "I was always told that the first Rogers saved a newly fallen angel from demons and she created this just for him to show appreciation."


    Orison nodded. "And that isn''t wrong. Except for the part where his supposed greed was the cause of their capture to begin with and he came back with a group to kill the demons for their stuff. From her perspective, she was just an extra, an extra who hadn''t exactly been saved in a timely manner. Of course, a small amount of that bitterness could be redirection of anger on the part of the victim and the naked truth probably lies between the two points of view.


    "It very much does help condense bone and muscle and it helps extend Rogers family fertility by about a decade or so. It''s also the reason why the closer a Rogers family member gets to the peak of what their blood can offer, the greater the chance they''ll spend their final days in excruciating agony. The nearly unpreventable build up of minerals, especially calcium, in your guys'' bodies as you age past sixty or seventy isn''t a defect of the experiment that made you."


    Looking like he wanted to throw up, Adam said, "But the nettle bone disease is hardly ever seen anymore. A shorter life with a painful ending is what I just paid for-"


    Seeing that Adam was getting upset and it would only be a matter of time before it was turned at him, Orison quickly added, "Forgiveness, guilt or remorse, take your pick. Ice and Fire was originally designed to be the antidote. Now that her revenge booze is about to be a fading memory of the past, expect it''s counterpart to start becoming an increasing rarity."


    The captain glared at him and said, "You could have lead off with that. I saw my grandmother die from Nettle Bone."


    Orison said, "Being as subjective as you can, would you say your grandmother was a good person?"


    Adam resolutely said, "No. She loved us but she was cruel, demanding and judgmental. I used to think it was so that we would be the best we could be but... You''re saying if she had been a better person..."


    "Well, time and battery energy is burning. We should probably get going," the young mage declared.


    While Gan collected his things, Orison set down a bottle of Doc Agave and made his request. "Life extension, healing and a wide variety of other minor benefits that equal the cure or at least treatment to many diseases. I''d say that it''s the perfect companion for someone posted in a place like this. It''s my butter up for you to approve a trial by fire for me and my team."


    After a bit of banter and some back and forth, Adam gave up and shrugged. "If you want to waste your one and only shot at skipping the Three Waves in a fished out and dangerous place like this, be my guest. When do you think you''ll be taking it?"


    Orison ignored the look Adam subconsciously glanced towards Gan with and said, "Next rotation."


    Mildly surprised, the captain asked, "Do you have a proctor request?"


    "Even if I did, it wouldn''t be approved. I do have an add-on, though. Julia Bisk. She''ll need a gerbil ball," Orison said.


    Adam blinked at the touchscreen in his hand. "To pass a trial by fire, you need a million merit achievement minimum per teammate and you want to bring a completely human, UTF certified High School teacher?"


    Orison nodded. "I''m also entrusting you with a mission. The clearance code is Black Ouroboros, Deep Blue Pisces..."


    The rest of the code was a complicated combination of verbal and written encrypted instructions.


    The young mage added, "If for some reason the event isn''t predicted exactly, stall for three days with the excuse of decontamination protocol. This came from Dr. Odd and I want you to keep acting Triumvir LeStrange from undoing it with the same excuse... I had to give you a lot fast. So, if I made a mistake or there''s more than one with the same name, have your Captain''s Adjunct ask for clarification on The Weird using Merriweather code. It''s old as hell but the book over there underneath the filing cabinet has the cipher."


    Once they were done, Gan was recovered enough not to wobble on his feet. Figuring that they might have some personal things to say, Orison gave them a couple of minutes while he waited outside. The scout had a complicated look on his face but discussions would have to wait until there was time and privacy.


    Flaring his essence til it made a connection with the hidden magic transport circle in the planar hub building, the young mage moved himself and Gan to his training room bunker. Reaching out to The Weird, he sent a message to terminate the rip stabilizer''s power input and converted the remaining battery charge balance into merits through Roy''s account. He was about to answer the sudden question mark with a handful of exclamation points the equipment specialist sent him when the young mage noticed that he and Gan weren''t alone in the training room.


    Jacques stood with arms folded and a storm cloud of emotion on his face as he said, "I hope you have a good explanation for all of this before I have to call in the planar response team upstairs to arrest you."

 174 Country of Champions 25

    "Dr. Odd is on Alpha Minoris. I don''t have the time to explain everything and still keep my deadline schedules. If you call off the firing squad and follow me to the house, I''ll give you an explanation as I work or I can call your favorite angel in the whole wide world to give you an intimate breakdown with all your subordinates watching," Orison said with a saintly smile.


    Face going white as a sheet before taking on a faint blush, Jacques said, "N-no. You''re bluffing!"


    Orison smiled even more radiantly and said, "Sammy, sweetheart, the apple of Edom in my eye, could you give us a whiff or those heavenly hand rolled cigars you make? Your buddy, Jacques, seems to have forgotten the savory scent of your affections."


    A husky woman''s voice echoed in Orison''s spiritual seat, "Mo than happy to, sugar, but don''t be playin round with yo faith juice like dat. It''ll bite you in yo a** one day."


    A puff of sweet herb laced cigar smoke rolled under Jacques'' nose, sending him into a sneezing fit. Looking like a child wrongfully punished, he followed Orison into the lake house after releasing Planar Response back to their duty stations. As they walked in the door, the young mage started things off by pouring about three shots worth of Ice and Fire into the potted plant that sat between the dining and living room. All the while, he ignored LeStrange''s complaint.


    While Orison doled out ''medicine'' to the teens, Gan and LeStrange with a great deal less camaraderie than he had originally intended, he spun a story of surface truths to placate Jacques. "Dr. Odd was forced to cross the divide early... The three of you who don''t know the whole story, this planet is called Beta Prime and there is another planet from a higher dimension called Alpha Minoris that it is merging with. When the process is done, the new merged planet will finish popping up to the higher dimension or sink back fully into this one.


    "No matter which way it goes, it''s bad for somebody. If it rises, a lot of things will disappear to make room for things that are more real and the remaining people from this side will become mostly just normal people with a few minor quirks. If it sinks, then this reality will get into a resource tug of war with the higher reality and the outcome isn''t as stacked in the higher reality''s favor as it would usually be. That equals a lot of death and collateral damage."


    Jacques said, "The reason why his artifact came to me even though my mentor isn''t dead?"


    Orison said, "It''s worthless up there. Well, not entirely but close enough... Gan, you and my stingy mentor can finish off what''s left of the bottle at whim."


    "Don''t have to tell me twice," Gan said with an irritable look on his face as he saw Jacques grab the bottle and fit as much into his glass as he could.


    "Alright, Rio. I have a list of things for you to do. After strutting around for Esme to your heart''s content, I''ve authorized you to sign yourself out of school. You don''t have to come home as soon as you finish but if you want to be as much in the loop as you can be, I''d suggest you come back as soon as you can," Orison added wryly.


    Rio slurred agreement before calling up transportation.


    Garret said, "Am I staying again today?"


    Orison shrugged. "I could use an extra pair of hands but it''s not in the realm of ''need''."


    As a barrage of invisible echoes continued to merge with him, like they had since the first set, Orison continued surface truth explaining. "Dr Odd left the artifact and I was allowed to use it. There was an understanding between me and basically everyone that I wouldn''t take credit for other''s discoveries but I was told to help a few people make their discoveries earlier. So, I''d appreciate it if you would help me clear a few minor red flags that might stop me from doing that."


    Still frowning at the snoring Northlander on the kitchen floor, "The artifact won''t allow itself to be used for selfish reasons but that doesn''t mean it couldn''t be used with good AND selfish reasons... I need a daily report from you for ALL the things you''re going to do that day and if you deviate, I''ll have you put under protective custody until I can get Aurora to read your truth."


    Orison said, "I don''t care that you''re an acting Triumvir. I won''t hesitate to pull supernatural rank on you if you keep me from handling personal business I don''t feel like sharing... Keeper of oaths and seer of all things within your domain, by the stone that possesses your blessing and power, I swear to commit no crime or take what rightfully belongs to someone else with the knowledge of that future I have seen."


    The artifact hidden underneath Jacques shirt glowed a peaceful blue for a moment and Orison added, "That''s my compromise. As long as you don''t block my activities, I won''t get in your way or cause you anymore problems than you''d already be dealing with."


    It took a great deal more skirting around the dangerous full truth to convince LeStrange and the young mage knew full well that he''d be under watchful eyes moving forward but he didn''t care. "It''s going to be nonstop hectic for the next couple of weeks til the turn of the month. I''d like your three diamond passes."


    Jacques snorted. "I''m sure you would."


    "I already gave you almost a third of a bottle of Ice and Fire. What more do you want from me!? Damn cheapskate!" Orison asked with an aggrieved face.


    Seeing a way to get some revenge, Jacques leered and said, "You''re the one wanting something. Make an offer."


    Narrowing his eyes, Orison said, "Stop eyeballing the last shot in the small bottle. With as much Ice and Fire as you''ve drank in the last few years, it wouldn''t do anything for you except make you a little numb for a couple of minutes... On top of not telling anyone how much supplement you just wasted for personal pleasure and how you offered me nothing for it, I won''t uninvite you to my party tomorrow."


    Refusing to back down too much and still angle, Jacques said, "That earns you one ''unloaded'' diamond pass. What about the rest you asked for?"


    Orison sneered. "Just ''load'' it and the other two with the merits you''ve conveniently forgotten to pay out to my account. And before you decide to go down that road, I''ve knowledge of the future training you plan on giving me and how much you got for those materials. I dare you to lie to me about it with that medallion hanging around your neck."


    A sore loser, LeStrange revved up to defend his position when Orison added, "The ''barely'' part of ''barely not extortion'' and ''barely not theft'' is so paper thin it''s a form of shame in itself. Since I''ve already received your overpriced training, I''ll concede that half but if I had known how you would treat me, I assure you, I would have never trusted you with my merits. UTF right wing extremists are more charitable than you."


    While the sound of three notifications ringing out on the young mage''s touchscreen, Jacques said angrily, "Since you''ve received all the training, get ready to prove it. I''ve scheduled your defense of B-class privileges two weeks from now."


    Orison gave a saintly smile. "Oh, so the earliest you could make it... If you can MAKE IT to the party with that chip off your shoulder, I won''t slip you mixto made with bottom shelf mezcal."


    Wide eyed, Jacques looked at Orison like he was the devil. "You wouldn''t dare!"


    The young mage sighed. "Bury the hatchet with me, mentor. A student and his teacher should be like father and son, not bickering merchants. I am thankful for... all you would have done, miserly inclinations aside."


    Snorting impressively, Jacques said, "I''m bringing my wife, mistress and my two children."


    Orison slowly shook his head and muttered, "Shameless." More decisively, he added, "Fine. They can take turns running one of the games for the children''s side of the party in the training room."


    Looking over to the potted plant that had wilted and slumped into the form of a three foot green alien, LeStrange said, "Since you know about shifty, there''s no need for her to stay here anymore... I have to admit. That is the kindest and most generous way I''ve ever seen anyone call her out."


    Orison looked at the slumbering, childlike little green wo''man'' and said a little emotionally, "Four of Seven''s a saint. One of the best of us. Now, Five of Seven pretending to be a toilet in the main bathroom... Get them out of here before I smash them."


    Ignoring the awkward exit of Jacques and the two alien doppelgangers along with Garret''s look of subtle dawning horror, Orison set up things with the water park. After checking schedules, he abused the authority holding three diamond passes at once granted to requisition El, Em and his two other Planar Response friends as ''under cover'' guest security. Having Stag and Gan cooperate, he personally allotted the nine gold and most of the eighty-one silver tickets through requests to the ones receiving the gold.


    Garret was glad he stayed. Even though Orison seemed to have an endless litany of magical ''arts and crafts'' to do, it meant that he got to be a part of other preparations. He was scared and excited in equal measure. Stomping that excitement down, he told Orison, with no hesitation, that he wanted to be a climber and he only wanted to make sure that Babs and his mom were left with some small advantages before he left.


    Around Five, the young mage went to check on Stag. "You still feeling groggy?"


    Stag swiveled his head to look at Orison with worry. The two new stubs that were growing in had detached and laid in his hands. There was no point in healing them back on because the velvet that should have nourished them to maturity had necrotized. Just to make sure it wasn''t the reason he expected it to be, the young mage exercised spirit sight.


    Orison smiled reassuringly and told the green haired man, "I hope this doesn''t confuse you too much but remember how I explained about us being in the low dimensions and how there were many realities within it?"


    "In between all the other concerns of my life, I''ve thought about it frequently," Stag said.


    The young mage nodded. "Well some time travel foolery happened, will have happened... You know what I mean. The point is, what happens in the low dimensions doesn''t affect the mid dimensions. In the hypothetical future, if someone were to ascend to them but the rest of us went back to a previous point in time, it would be as if they just vanished.


    "For those who weren''t aware of what was supposed to be, it would be like they never were a part of whatever happened from that point further. Anything they used or took with them would most likely be gone too. That''s where things take weird turn for you."


    "Let me rip the band-aid off. Your ancestors aren''t some mythical beings. They were a few stalks of spiritually awakened feather grass. They were soaked in various essences from the violent mating ritual between a primordial existence and a powerful Aspect of Nature archetype. Pleased with their accidental creation, they blessed your ancestors'' existence and treated you as children. I suppose the argument could be made but I''ll leave that to you.


    "When I fed you the core essence of Herne, it was a good thing except that you weren''t quite strong enough to claim it. In exchange for sparing you from possession, I helped Herne to ascend. Due to some wording of our agreement, it limited what he could take from you when he left but because time was messed with, he can take more. Don''t worry, he''s about to regret his greed real soon.


    "What you need to know is what you want to base your future path off of. Your choices boil down to the blessings of those powerful beings, your grass deer fey heritage or a unique personal path of your own making. There''s no right or wrong choice. You''ve had well over a year to figure out what comes from where when it comes to your advantages and disadvantages."


    After a bit of discussion, Stag had his goal. He would go to Eo Pan at one point during the evening and hijack a part of the ritual taking place to consolidate what he wanted at the cost of other things. The beautiful part, from the Nunnos man''s perspective, was how much would be paid by Herne for keeping a siphoning connection open.


    "The last new moon before spring. That''s a powerful time to ''get rid'' of things you don''t want in your life. How does what you''re wanting me to do translate into that kind of working?" Stag asked.


    Orison said, "With how close we are to the southern pole, there is another ritual being held at another place a specific distance away that is having a last new moon before winter thing, where they entreat their higher power to not take away the things precious to them and keep them safe for the coming of spring. New moon turns to first light on the other side and I think you get the rest."


    Stag said, "Any tips for blending with the crowd? Crashing someone else''s ritual is usually a huge offense."


    "This is a spiritual ritual and it''s open to people who aren''t coming with bad intentions. You aren''t. You''re coming to be given aid in a mostly spiritual problem that''s in alignment with what they''re doing. Just be honest, kind and as free with your affections as you''re comfortable with," the young mage said, mostly succeeding in trying to suppress internal embarrassment over details.


    The green haired man chuckled. "I''ve never had problems with the generosity of my affections."


    Orison rolled his eyes and said, "Wrap up the generosity around one or two in the morning. You need to get some rest because I''ll want your help with preparation for the party. And out of my current group, you''re the only one with enough experience to really be of help. Since you''re a decently accomplished herbalist in your own right, use whatever you want in the kitchen. I''ve added your fingerprint to the biometric locked cupboard."


    The young mage hung back with Gan when everyone else went at Six in the evening. "You''re probably wondering why I''ve been keeping a distance from you. It probably doesn''t help that I really haven''t been letting you in on much either. There''s nothing wrong. I just have to make sure a certain thing happens a certain way for best effect."


    Looking nostalgic, maybe even a little sad, Gan said, "It''ll be what it''ll be... Do I still have a place in your home?"


    Orison felt the question had a lot more weight than it did before. Future knowledge showed him possibilities based off of things that shouldn''t happen but that didn''t mean that the seed of those possibilities weren''t already planted. He didn''t want to take a recording of a deathbed confession from a future that no longer existed too seriously considering the circumstances they occurred in but he couldn''t shake it completely either.


    He replied, "You will always have a place in my home and by my side. What''s mine is yours. Even if you became an impossible to redeem monster bent on destroying me and everything I love, you''ll still have a place in my home. It''ll just be an urn on the mantle.


    "I''ll try my best to accept any lover you have as my family because I hope you''ll do the same. Any children you ha... er, adopt or whatever, I''d take care of as my own because I know you''d do it for me if you needed to. Blame it on my pettiness and need not to be outdone in areas I take pride in. But after everything you''ve done and I know you would do for me, there''s not a whole lot I wouldn''t do for you... Take a seat because what I have to say next, I''ll only say once."


    Chuckling nervously, Gan asked, "Should I be worried about what you''re going to say?"


    Orison said, "Not half as much as I am to say it."


    Once they were both sat down and and true to Northlander style, with a liberal coating of inebriation for both, added, "I don''t want you waylaid and messed up with worry by what you''ll know soon. Things will turn out completely different this time and it might not matter but I know. So, here''s the awkward conversation you didn''t know you were promised.


    "There''s a couple of girls out there in Greater Reality I really like. And if I ever meet them again, I''ll want to try for more than just ''like''. Maybe I''ll never meet them or maybe I''ll meet someone else but I will be faithful to the one I want to be faithful to me. I''m not quite there yet but I will want the wife and kids thing one day. That''s the Al part of me I want to honor it. It''s a part of myself I couldn''t deny anyway."

 175 Country of Champions 26

    Gan chuckled and said, "I kind of figured that''s how it would go. You are who you are. I''m happy knowing you accept me as I am. What''s so hard about that? I never really thought-"


    Orison said a little shakily, "I''m not done."


    The scout gave the young mage a look very similar to the one a nice adult would give to a child whose being pushy for attention in a way they find cute. "Alright then. Get it all off your chest."


    He took a moment to steady himself and then Orison said, "Because of that, the things I want, there''s this line between us. I don''t like that it makes what I tell you a little bit of a lie. It bothers me because there were so many of your own personal lines... You''ll understand all that later.


    With an unsteady hand from nerves, Orison poured himself one more shot to keep him going.


    Seeing the young mage ''try'' so hard, Gan tried to let him off the hook. "I think I get where you''re going but you don''t need to say more. It''s fine. I appreciate the thought."


    He ignored the scout and plowed on. "You''d be happier staying on the other side of that line. Eventually, when you got tired of only finding ''friends'', you''d find a special person that you could be the number one of who made you their number one. Maybe it wouldn''t last forever and all that but it would be yours. I''d suffer from a case of best friend jealousy because there would be this person with a claim to your time and energy that wasn''t me but I''d get over it because I WANT you to be happy.


    "I-if you ever feel that crossing that line is what you really want... then you have ONE shot. I''ll pursue a woman who could accept that... you know... but you''d be mine just like her and I don''t care how unreasonable that is. You would be all mine and she would be all mine and the two of you would be one half of my number one."


    Gan looked at him blankly for a moment and started trembling as a tear came to the corner of his eye. Right as Orison began wondering if he should have waited to say that after it would be alright to pat the scout on the back or something, Gan started braying out laughter that he couldn''t hold back anymore.


    Between huge draws of air, the Northlander said, "I''m... sorry. It''s just... try saying that again when you don''t look like you''re... ready to make a run for it."


    Annoyed and with bruised pride, the young mage said, "Like I told you already, I''m never saying it again. Best remember it and see if you''re laughing later this evening when it''s your turn to get molly-whopped by future''s past nonsense."


    The young mage had never looked so much like a child in the scout''s eyes as he did in that moment, arms folded and sulking. Sensing Gan''s subconsciously judging gaze, Orison stowed away the ridiculousness of a laughed off declaration he hadn''t even particularly wanted to make. The future that wouldn''t pass held no power over the future that would.


    He''d done what his conscience demanded and was satisfied. He still hoped Gan could find a happiness of his own. But if the scout wanted to walk the whole road from beginning to end with him, he''d honor his word and be glad for the company, if not so thrilled about it''s accompanying responsibilities.


    Silence reigned on their trip to the water park. For once, Orison had no idea at all what Gan was thinking but he had a mind full of thoughts himself. Foremost among them were the two women who made a lasting impression on him.


    He didn''t know if he''d had made any lasting impression on Lily but she had certainly left one on him. The aversion her mutilated mummy of a body left him with had long been replaced with the saucy smile framed with frizzy red hair. A person who could walk out of the nearly endless pain and despair of the Abyss with a carefree face could handle the small amount of emotional luggage Orison carried with him. The thing was, he wasn''t so confident she would want to.


    Wendy was a contradiction of strength and vulnerability. She was lonely but hopeful. As much as she projected the desire to have someone to lean on, she had a core of independence that kept her propped up fine on her own. The only obvious sore spot, she was a working woman and it looked like her boss was a real slave driver.


    His intuition told him that Wendy could accept anything about him as long as he was willing to return that acceptance. The thing was, until he met her again, he wouldn''t know what all he would have to be willing to accept in return. It was likely that her patron would be an indefinite source of disruption to their relationship at the very least.


    It did little good to dwell on it. What would be would be. And as long as a climber lived, time wasn''t a thing they typically had a shortage of. Though a climber''s personal time was no rare commodity, the time they had with any one person was as uncertain as any mortal''s life.


    As soon as the cab dropped them off, Orison was bombarded with a sizable crowd all wanting to pay respects of some kind or other. Soon enough, the young mage was joined by his two teenage wards and ringed by four Planar Response members in water park ''field gear'' for their ''undercover'' security work. For things to be proper, he had to give a mission briefing before going off to do his own thing and that included socializing.


    Everyone was wearing happy expressions while their ''duty lead'' dispensed their responsibilities. "Turner, your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to let your wife know how it feels to be the basted chicken. Don''t worry, the tanning beach you baked at has it''s settings tuned to wobble from the eight in the morning position starting at eight tonight... Additionally, try to set some time to mend things with Janet and Gina. "If not for their sake, for Babs. Your kids love her and that girl is enough of a loner as it is... I''m not asking for a miracle, just a chance. You think you can handle that mission?"


    Turner gave a salute and said, "It would be an honor and a pleasure, sir. She won''t admit it but Gina misses that woman. It''s not like we didn''t know she had some problems. It was just too much to see all that ugly at once but now that we know a little more about the whole situation, I think it''ll be alright."


    Orison dismissed him to fulfill his ''assignments'' before turning to Roy, "Bud, I actually have one serious mission for you before that mission becomes serious fun. I need you to escort Stag, that''s the green haired man that looks a little sluggish, to Eo Pan. Keep an eye out for him until he starts looking better.


    "Once he''s up to fending for himself, I do believe you''ve held a dear wish in your heart to go to Naked Truth Island? Do some reconnaissance there and self report only once you''ve uncovered its most interesting secrets. But before that, take this supplement and report its effectiveness."


    Roy looked at the malted milk ball looking pellet for a second before chewing it up with a bitter look on his face. "Sir, it tastes awful but the aftertaste isn''t so...whoa. Reporting... I feel refreshed and two-three years recovered. There seems to be a mild restoration to stress weaknesses in my magic channels."


    Chuckling, Orison said, "I''m just going with the flow. The underlying message is ''enjoy yourself''... Feel up to your missions?"


    Roy crisply saluted and said, "Sir, yes sir!... Uh, about the life force exchange payment..."


    "News for another day, Specialist Roy," Orison replied.


    The equipment specialist dropped his salute and headed out as the young mage turned to the last two. "El, Em, What you do before and after your assignment is entirely up to you. Around ten, er, 2200 hours I need the people on this handwritten list and two water transport platforms at a location halfway between the entrance to the Islands of Truth and the islands themselves. I also need that point to be fairly equidistant between Brutal Truth and Eo Pan.


    "Sorry for giving you guys a very real and important assignment while everyone else gets to goof off. Being right in the middle of everything means that you can''t quite unwind as much as everyone else either. I''ll make it up to you with an extra... appetizer at the party tomorrow. Sound like a deal?"


    El said, "It''s alright, Sonny. This assignment knocked us back down the list for ocean border patrol. They suck."


    Em nodded vigorously a few times and added, "They like to put us out there when the weather''s the worst because we won''t drown but they seem to forget that if our suits rip, we can still freeze to death. If you looked at our medical records you''d think our family has some sort of genetic disposition for pneumonia."


    Once they had left, the young mage left the central security hub''s briefing room. After giving a few ''potential problem'' heads ups to actual security, he gave Gan the time for the Islands meetup and directed the scout to the locations of potential vendors that might have goods worth noting. To not be overly conspicuous about antisocial behavior when he orchestrated it all, the young mage made an hour long round with all the invites before breaking off to go his own way.


    It didn''t take long to realize there wouldn''t be any peace before he prepped for the Islands meeting. Esme and Trish might be able to scare off most of the invitee girls but the park wasn''t closed to the public before they came and far too many people were interested in him. Eventually, he begged off to have a ''serious meeting'' with Adena and her father that he didn''t really need to but he''d rather be ''Big Brother''ed to death while being glared at than deal with an entourage of people trying individually to get his attention.


    After the young Firebrand said a few words and expressed her excitement about starting First Wave, Adena took the opportunity to go out and have some unsupervised fun. She fully intended on getting lost in the park well enough her dad would have a hard time finding her. After one look at the dour faced man with hair so yellow it was almost neon, he could see why.


    "What did you want to talk about, Cantrip," the man said in a surly tone.


    The young mage thought to himself, "I''d like to be your image consultant. Learn to smile more or slick back your hair. You look like a demon wearing a Grade School sunflower costume headpiece."


    Facing down the irritable papa bear, he said, "Tuesday, the week after next, I plan on running my team through a trial by fire through Plague Barrens. Your thoughts?"


    The man stared intensely at Orison and said, "You''re either planning on failing in a way that won''t embarrass you or passing with flying colors. What''s your goal?"


    The young mage stared back unflinchingly. "There are things that can''t or shouldn''t be discussed outside of secure places. I can say that you''ll have a better idea after tomorrow''s party. I know you originally turned down the RSVP that Rio sent to Adena earlier today. Reconsider. Better yet, come with her. I don''t even want my mentor to come and he found a way to extort invitations for his wife, children AND mistress!"


    While the man dithered, Orison wrote a note with spirit essence on a napkin and handed it over. After instructing Mr. Firebrand to read it with the faint amount of spiritual sense the man possessed, Mr. Firebrand burned it. The message was simple. The fiancee that he had set up for Adena and had begun trying to brow beat her into accepting, was a devil devotee. The young mage promised to give evidence at the party. After requesting a psychic scan from The Weird to make sure his mind or spirit hadn''t been altered or influenced, Mr. Firebrand agreed to bring Adena to the young mage''s party.


    To burn some time til eight when the park would close its doors to all save vacationers and people training in some of the on site facilities, Orison tracked down Esme and Trish. In the process of trying to reach a friendly understanding with them, he discovered that HE was the one who misunderstood. The two young women were ''very close'' friends and with Trish having broken up with the man that the two women had an ''understanding'' with, Esme was looking to replace him with ''higher quality goods''.


    What they wanted was fairly simple but difficult to find. Esme needed an ''interest'' to parade in front of polite society or at least a name she could use as a shield. Trish was a big hearted girl trying her best to honor the love she had for a childhood best friend while easing the ache of more primal needs in the present while looking forward to more practical needs in the future.


    Under normal circumstances, he wouldn''t want to get involved with something so complicated. But due to a fresh perspective on the issue and knowledge of what was to come, he felt moved. Making no promises, he offered to stand in until situations made such an arrangement too difficult or they found a candidate more willing to commit.


    After renting a room at the water park''s vacation area, he demonstrated that he was more than capable of fulfilling present needs. Seeing Trish''s satisfied look and Esme''s complicated one, he felt that burning all his buffer time on the ''surprise project'' was well worth the time spent. It wasn''t just about the pleasure. It was the moment of gratitude the situation had generated in him towards Lyra for her ''teachings''. It helped him tackle the grudge he had held against the woman, allowing him to let the majority of it go.


    As Esme put herself back together while Trish took a small nap, she said, "That''s your idea of a quickie? What''s it take to satisfy you!?"


    He stepped out of the shower and used a dash of magic to dry off. "Last time I clocked it when I wasn''t attention starved, around six hours, give or take."


    She looked at him cynically and said, "Are we trying to show off with a little harmless bragging?"


    Orison smiled bitterly, "No. It''s the way the engine''s built. When I''m willing, I can warm up fast but it takes a long time to cool down. It''s all rain with no clouds until hour three or four. I''m honestly worried about it a little. I think most people who haven''t, would like to experience a whole day of ''love'' but too much of anything is bad and there''s a lot of good things to be said about being able to feel satisfied after a few minutes of scratching an itch."


    Esme asked hesitantly, "How old are you, really?"


    "You tell me. What does the balance between an immature man in his mid thirties and a world weary young teenager equal out to? Between soul, body and memory, what does and doesn''t matter? Unless you just want to look at physical age, which would be a huge mistake in Avalon, the answer to your question is more philosophical than even I''m comfortable with," Orison answered as honestly as he could.


    Activating his teaser suit, he strode out to where Gan had been patiently waiting long enough to hear things that would bother the young mage if it was anyone else.


    As they walked away, Esme stepped out of the room, pointed at the over robe Orison was donning and said, "I want one of those."


    Without turning back, the young mage said, "Ask Trisha what she wants her show off gift to be along with whatever term of endearment I''m supposed to call you in public. In the mean time, keep from embarrassing Rio and I''ll see what I can do before our one month anniversary."


    Once they''d made it a distance, Gan chuckled against the awkward silence and said, "Why did that seem like a bit of business between business rather than some fun between business."


    The young mage said wearily, "Because for Esme, that''s what it was. To put it in a way you''re more familiar with hearing, Esme and Trisha are shield sisters. Trisha just likes to hang her shield up on a man''s mantle from time to time."


    "It looked more like they welcomed a man to hang his sword on their mantle from time to time," Gan said wryly.


    Orison shook his head and added, "This isn''t your homeland. There are quite a few mantles that have an extra sword or shield and it''s not always easy to tell which hangs over the other. It''s not shameful to love who you will here and it''s not shameful for a woman to be the decision maker but personal ability equals privilege.


    "Sometimes that means people have strange home lives. People might get married for love but have children with someone else or even get a legacy compatibility match from the fertility clinic. You know this. I bet you never saw a decent looking or ability possessing C-class or better woman in the irregulars."


    Gan said, "B-class men either. There were one or two who drifted in with a proud heart but left pretty fast with low heads."

 176 Country of Champions 27

    For the remaining time left, Orison went shopping. He also collected evidence and testimony from The Weird when it was very close to the ten o'' clock meeting time.


    Once Garret, Gan and the young mage were on a water transport, Orison turned to the scout and said, "The time for all the secrets and weirdness is almost over. Well, the weirdness will never be completely over but we''re climbers. It''s just part of the package deal."


    Gan gave an iconic chuckle and replied, "I can face my own death calmly but this has me nervous for some reason... Meh, it is what it is."


    "There''s one more thing I need you to do for me before then," Orison said with a mischievous smile.


    By the time the young mage was done explaining, the Northlander''s smile slipped a few notches. While Orison split up the group that was waiting on them, Gan played buddy-buddy with Gravat to keep the blue skinned man occupied. When Gravat saw Orison''s destination, he immediately wanted to follow but Gan distracted him by asking about his exploits. And as much as he wanted to see what the young mage was up to on HIS island, he couldn''t resist the temptation to brag about himself.


    While Orison''s group headed towards Brutal Truth, two of the three young women and the young man that were with him pestered Orison for answers. He shut them up with a few platitudes and a round of super alcohol whose only feature was being able to affect people with high resistance more keenly. While the woman who quietly stood at the edge of the transport looking towards the island with one part fear and three parts excitement, the young mage gave her a gentle look of compassion before squaring his face into a stern one.


    As soon as the other three were incapacitated, Orison gave El the signal and the dolphin girl zip tied them. When the man started complaining, the young mage told him to be patient. That it was just part of the fun. All three of them were sub-elites with well connected families and didn''t believe anything could happen to them that was too horrible anyway. It was that air of entitlement that had empowered them to do many a dark deed that was swept under rugs or cowed their victims into silence.


    Those victims spilled their guts the moment they learned about others as numbers provided courage. And as it stood, Orison knew their worst secrets from the get go. It wasn''t hard to reverse trace a way through an middling difficult maze when a person stood at the end of it.


    Greeting the Orcish looking grayish-green skinned shaman at the supply doc, Orison said in the Amoril common tongue, "I bring tidings from the land of your great mothers and fathers. I know of your journey over 600 moon cycles ago to the twisted lands."


    The shaman held up a letter. "I have been prepared for your coming. Not for long but I have had time to make peace in my heart."


    Shaking himself out of personal thoughts, Orison trudged on, although not quite as confident internally as he had been moments before. "These three that are tied, they are my offering to be added as an outlier of your clan."


    The shaman nodded. "You were a brother to the clan before we ever met but what you ask is to be subject to our laws?"


    Orison smiled and said, "For two moons of time, I do."


    The shaman laughed in a booming voice. "You have made an oath to obey a law but did not declare the father of it. So be it. Prepare yourself for the five lashes. Speak your other matters along the way."


    Orison begged to be indulged for a moment.


    Switching back to English, he listed off the three people''s crimes and said, "By the code of conduct while on foreign soil, as duty leader of this away team I offer two choices. Face life in the irregulars without possibility of parole or submit yourself to this clan. If you learn from your mistakes and serve well, they will raise you from the mud and let you sit beside them. All that awaits you in the irregulars is a short life filled with despair."


    Underneath their bully exteriors they were cowards who had never tasted pain. Between dulled senses and offered a chance to escape facing judgment of peers, they accepted. Wrongly, they assumed their time with the Orcs would be short. No one would save them in the short term. The families that had sheltered them did so more for face than love. Now that they were safely stuck somewhere they could do no more damage to reputation, the rescue would be slow indeed.


    As they were taken away, the remaining woman said, "A-am I not going with them?"


    Trying hard to keep a smile from creeping up his face, Orison said, "Oh, no. Your cri-sins, your SINS are so heinous, how could their fates be cruel enough for you!?"


    She gave a weak cry and walked onward with them, jellied knees wobbling along.


    The shaman sniffed the air and with a knowing look said in his native tongue, "You brought a daughter of the Chained Lady with you? Which son of the Lord of Thorns is she intended for?"


    The young mage said, "Grum at Garrosh. It would be a kindness for her heart should the claiming be done by quick ritual combat. Just a little blood for show. I''ll help with the healing."


    In less than three minutes it would be done and the woman who had helped him and Gan escape from a demon encampment by sacrificing herself in that grim future that would never happen, would receive a much better life of fantasy fulfillment.


    While preparations were under way, the shaman said, "This is a good match. There is too much love in his lash to be a sin cleanser. A father of the tribe is a better path... I hope that is not the end of our dealings, Brother of the Tribe."


    Orison shook his head. "Once I have received the cleansing lash, I need to meet with Gurrut. The young man who stands beside me is his brother in blood. If he accepts, I have a gift for him and a mission for him to carry out on behalf of the tribe."


    "Then let us not waste precious time. The blue skinned one may return and he is the most terrible season chief we have ever needed to endure," the shaman said with an impressive scowl.


    Orison deactivated his teaser suit and stoically received his five lashes while Grum fought a disturbingly real battle against two other men to claim his ''prize''. As was custom, the winner needed to do his claiming before he could be healed. But as far as Orison could see through slightly wet eyes, he didn''t need any. And as for the woman, if anyone tried to ''rescue'' her from what was coming, she might have killed them.


    It looked like scary possessive love at first sight. Orison reasoned that he didn''t have to understand. It was good enough that each was getting something they desperately wanted and the only thing that held her there was her desire to stay. She had a little over a week to change her mind before she would be given another type of choice entirely.


    Gathering his pain scattered thoughts back to the matter at hand, the young mage met Gurrut and introduced Garret to him. "This is your father''s first son, Garret. It wouldn''t be a surprise if even Aurora didn''t know. He kind of sneaked in for a peak and got caught for a night before escaping."


    Gurrut snorted. "Mother let him go."


    Orison said, "We have time for more catching up later. Will you leave the island and come with us? I need someone with blood ties to the tribe, a bridge to open the way home for them."


    When he pulled out one of the two remaining artifacts that the Keystone snagged for him, it weakly protested before going silent. After having lived through another timeline, he knew what they did but didn''t exactly agree with his conduit how they should be used. The knowledge he possessed already showed him that his spiritual daughter and the Keystone were far from infallible.


    "After cutting them, only slightly, press your thumbs to either side of this concave glass part. If Your Wisdom and Gurrut agree, of course," Orison coaxed.


    With less than a split second of hesitation, they did as instructed. The intricate ring that surrounded the concave lens split in two. The ''glass'' part stretched over and sunk into their thumbs as the rings changed size to fit their fingers.


    "When should I expect the forming of the bridge you speak of?" the shaman asked.


    The young mage replied, "Between one half to two-thirds a full cycle of the moon. Nothing in life is assured. If this seed bears no fruit by full cycle, then this hope is lost and return to your original plans. Should there be an unexpected delay that can be made up for, I''ll send word as best I can."


    The shaman gripped Orison''s forearm with bruising force. "Wear the ancestor''s false sin with pride, outer tribesman. The heart and soul of our people dim with each generation. I well understand the cruelty of Fate, the first daughter of the Lord of Thorns. Do not fail us.


    Orison kissed the ash hand mark on his arm and intoned, "All promises are false because nothing is certain. Strength and action are the truth."


    Leaving a great deal lighter than they came, Orison let the brothers size each other up after he tossed the last shot of Demon D*ck to Gurrut.


    Garret said, "Aren''t you going to give him some Ice and Fire? I thought you said-"


    "He doesn''t need it... Gurrut, the only thing what I gave you will do is extend your fertile seasons to what all other men in your tribe can expect. The Rogers curse is lifted from your, er, loins. The mark of your father upon your features will become stronger but that will only last until you are back in Amoril, should we succeed," Orison explained.


    Gurrut said, "Don''t let the old man fool you. If you pull it off, don''t expect that the whole tribe will want to go back."


    "I don''t but the ones who do, will and the ones who don''t won''t be stuck living a crappy in between life on an artificial island under an artificial sun. Your lives and heritage have been reduced to an Avalon recreational attraction... To be fair, it''s the best Aurora could do when she brought your tribe back from the Plague Barrens," Orison said.


    Once they got back to the other group, the young mage was met with a belly full of complaints, aside from a certain High School teacher who had better manners and was enjoying the experience for what it was. He cut them short with a request for El and Em to take them ''down''. Gravat, who had gotten bored of bragging about himself had begun flirting with the two dolphin siblings, followed as well.


    With a twist of aqua-kinetic power a dome of air surrounded the mildly astonished people as they were dragged down to the lake floor. After they were situated, Orison passed out some supernatural refreshments and made introductions to whittle a little more time away. The only thing keeping Gravat from becoming a nuisance to the proceedings being the free suppliments.


    As soon as a flash of light went off above them, Orison got Gan''s attention and held out a fist. "Pound it and let the games begin."


    Grinning widely, Gan reached out his own fist and as soon as they connected, there was a strong flash of light lost in the wash of radiance above the water. While El and Em reeled under the assault of information that sprang into being within their minds, the young mage held onto the bubble with his water elemental impression as he pulled everyone up with the natural desire of the air to be released and the help of the water transport. While recovery commenced, Orison leaned over Gravat and whispered a code word that would untangle a portion of shared memories that pertained to him specifically.


    Just like the original mini trainer, Gan''s conduit created version only had three partitioned spaces. One was for him, another was for Gan and the third contained nine months worth of Summit basic training along with some important information. Only a small corner had been coded in a scramble for Gravat''s mind alone.


    Looking over to where Rio had talked El into keeping him hidden in a light refracting ''water cloak'', Orison let him drown a little before pulling him in. after making sure Rio was breathing, he turned his attention to the conduit that had switched back over to its maker''s control. The mini trainer exterior dusted away, much like it had as the transposition device, leaving a black bead that turned into a ''Bold'' teaser suit around Gan.


    Once everyone was safely onto the water transport properly, he turned to the already recovered Gravat who was staring daggers at him.


    The blue man said, "I want to kill you."


    Orison nodded and said, "I know the feeling but others need us too much for our bloodlines to get to dictate our actions. If you show up at my party tomorrow, I''ll assume you want what I''m offering enough to give me what''s needed from you. If you don''t... Well, let''s just try to avoid each other as much as possible and spend whatever time you have left here keeping Adena from touching you."


    Gravat growled, "No, short stack. I want to flatten your head because you made Adena cry. Even at the end, she wanted you to remember Aiden. She was only Adena to everyone else but you were supposed to remember Aiden. You think she called you big brother because she had a crush on you? You were supposed to be a real friend and not just another guy who wanted her for something. If I could have, I would have ripped your heart out and ate it in front of you while your plan failed, you sorry sack of..."


    Trembling in suppressed rage, Gravat left. Orison had no way to rebut, explain or even apologize. There were parts of the future he didn''t record and had condensed as much useful information as he could up to the line of what he thought he could handle. He had trusted Adena a lot, as he had let her load the ''public memory slot'', but he must have let her down in some fundamental way he had no way of knowing about anymore.


    As much as he tried not to trample on people''s feelings while getting things done, it was inevitable that some would slip through the cracks. There was too much to do and he really didn''t have the luxury of ''checking in'' often. Based off his current situation, he could imagine how laser focused he was when people''s lives hanged in the balance everyday.


    Packing away all the tangled thoughts that needed a good once over, the young mage poured his crew person by person into transportation until Stag came stumbling towards him with a bleary eyed grin a quarter after one. Roy looked pretty relaxed and satisfied himself as he steered the green haired man with an occasional shoulder nudge to correct stagger direction. Having finished his courtesy retrieve, the equipment specialist strolled away whistling.


    On the way home, he sent messages to the ''discovery'' team he had enlightened ahead of schedule. A particularly long one was delivered to the High School teacher as she would be joining his team for the trial by fire in a little over a week later. Before time elapsed, he made sure to funnel all the unused merits from passes to his account so they wouldn''t default back to LeStrange''s. The man wasn''t greedy but he came close to single-handedly turning stinginess into a cardinal sin.


    Once everyone was settled into their rooms, with the brothers temporarily sharing until the back storage room was cleared out, the young mage took some time to unwind before heading off for his well earned four hours of peace. Not too long before he would have been heading off to his bedroom, Gan came walking into the living room with a contrite look on his face.


    "I''m sorry for laughing earlier. And I''m sorry for loading more than I should have into the partition. There were some things I didn''t want to forget," The scout said.


    Feeling his tension ratcheting up, the young mage suppressed it and said in a calm voice, "Sit down and unload, then."


    Gan sat across from him and added, "I didn''t want to lose my best friend. After everything you''ve seen me do, I think that I just needed to know I mattered enough, that I didn''t sicken you. What I said wasn''t a lie but I understand what you meant about that dividing line thing you were talking about."


    Since there was no reason not to and that they''d be more busy than able to enjoy the festivities with everyone else, Orison opened a Doc Agave and they made it through as much as was strictly medicinal before Gan launched in again. "If I had heard then what you told me today, I don''t think I would have tried to ''cross the line''. Not right away. Knowing that I could would have made me feel less pressured to see if I could... F*ck! None of this is coming out right."

 177 Country of Champions 28

    "I just wanted you to know that if you chose to walk the long road with me you wouldn''t end up alone, a guest in someone else''s happy life," Orison paused for another shot and chuckled, "I''ve seen what you go for and I''m neither an annoyingly chipper ''damsel in distress'' or a visually impressive, nearly animalistic Alpha type."


    To fill in the stretching silence, he added, "Keep doing you. When you become tired and heart weary, when having a best friend as a traveling companion isn''t enough anymore, do what you gotta do. Just... give me a heads up if what you got to do is pointed my way. I''d hate to hurt your feelings with a knee jerk reaction, you know?"


    Looking like he didn''t know whether to laugh or cry in a very real way, Gan said, "Which scares you more, Little Boss? Is it waking up with me gone again or waking up in my arms... you''re arms... Damn, this is powerful stuff. Can we change to something else for the party and keep all of this for us?"


    "I like women, Gan. There''s no doubt in my mind. Despite that, you being gone for good is scarier to me. But believe me, the guilt makes up the difference... and no. This is what''s on the party menu and I won''t tell you how much I have or I won''t be able to save any for some special occasion later on," Orison said.


    Silence descended again and after a minute or two went by, the Northlander stood up and said, "I don''t want to think about this anymore tonight. I just want the welcome hug I didn''t get and then I want to sleep and let my brain cool down."


    With nothing else left to say, Orison gave him the hug he wanted and said, "Glad to have you back home, Gan,"


    Choking back a sob so hard, it sounded painful, the scout replied thickly, "Sorry... You''re right a lot of the time but you were wrong about two things. You''re always in distress over something. A-and you''re plenty impressive. You''ll grow into the rest of it soon enough."


    Gan gently pushed the young mage back and walked off to his room. A little confused, Orison stared down the hallway. The image of the scout''s back burned into his mind''s eye, looking lonelier than he had ever seen it. He didn''t realize he''d zoned out until he heard the sound of clinking glass and something being poured. Turning around, he saw a tired and irritated looking Stag lining up for a second shot.


    "I figured you''d be out til the early afternoon at least," Orison said.


    With slit eyes, Stag let out a contented sigh, "That hit the spot. I was down to a couple of years left."


    Orison sat back down with a snort and said, "As long as you never spend it all, you could live thousands of years, in theory anyway."


    Resting his head back, Stag stared at the ceiling and replied, "Not in a world like this."


    "Uh, not to be pushy but... Why are you even still up?" the young mage asked.


    Caught a little off guard, Orison said, "Sorry our, uh, feelings were too loud?"


    Stag waved his hand like he was shooing a fly. "New level of sensitivity. I''ll have it handled in a day or two... That hug he gave you, that was a goodbye hug to your future self, by the way."


    A chill that spread out from his intuition gave the young mage goosebumps. "What does that mean?"


    Stag gave him a dull look, "You know what it means. He''s going to stick around until you''ve found what you''re looking for, stay until staying hurts more than leaving and then he''s going to slink away into the shadows. He doesn''t seem like the type to let go easy. So, he''s probably going to end up crawling back under whatever dark place you pulled him from and rot there."


    As much as he wanted to get angry at the green haired man or rant and rail that he had already compromised so much, ask what more he was expected to do, he couldn''t. A small voice whispered that he''d done enough. As guilt gnawed at the edges, he was ready to let things ''be what they were'', as Gan would say. A heart full of friendship and indebted gratitude warred with personal desire while he wondered why it would be so hard for him to keep his best friend and both of them still be happy.


    Stag winced like he had a sudden migraine and slammed back another shot.


    A dozen questions that begged being answered at once, Orison simply asked, "Why?"


    Weary and disgruntled, Stag said, "That would be the 10,000,000 merit question. I can say this much with some certainty. Whatever is eating at you, it''s about the future. What''s eating at him, is what''s happening to you right now.


    "You''re what, afraid that you''ll get in the way of his possible future whatever nonsense? He''s being eaten alive because he thinks he''s made you confused, hurting your own happiness and well being right now because you''re trying to twist yourself to be able to accept something nature didn''t design you to want. Don''t know if you noticed or not but there''s a part of him that still hates what he is. It gets really hard to shut down a voice like that when you see that part not only hurting you but the people around you. So much more so when it''s someone you care a lot about."


    Orison''s eye''s widened, a touch of anger dancing in them, "That''s ridiculous!"


    Stag nodded, "If he could see what you''re feeling, he''d probably think the same thing about your concerns. It doesn''t make them untrue... Look, I can tell what you two are feeling but I can''t actually see what you''re thinking and I don''t know you like you know yourselves.


    "It seems to me that, knowing the harvest was coming, you picked the apple before it was ready. You can''t put it back on the tree and it''s too bitter to swallow. Lucky for you, as long as you don''t throw it away, it''ll sweeten up. There''s just one problem, now that it''s picked, there might be someone else who''s willing to eat it before you are."


    Immediately, the young mage thought about Captain Rogers and how they were about to have a decent amount of time handling business in the Plague Barrens. If he hadn''t jumped the gun and opened a can of worms he wasn''t ready to deal with trying to ''get ahead of the problem'', the good Captain would have been nothing but another ''friend''. Now that Gan was hurt and vulnerable, the story was quite different. He thought it was possible the scout might settle for someone out of some misguided selfless reason.


    Had he been thinking more clearly, he would have realized that he was blowing the problem out of proportion. Had he been paying closer attention to Stag, he would have noticed the slight wicked curve at the edge of the green haired man''s smile. With foolish and unnecessary resolve, he headed to Gan''s room.


    After hitting the scout with the lavender sleep ritual, Orison climbed onto the bed and went into deep trance after pulling Gan to him. At the very least, he wanted the Northlander to see that waking up with the scout in his arms wasn''t scary at all... He was wrong.


    A subtle shift began stirring him from trance. The next moment there was a ripping sound and he felt much cooler despite having his arms wrapped around a softly expanding and contracting source of heat that felt much different than it did a moment ago. That heat source''s expanding suddenly hitched before the expanding and contracting became more ragged.


    The scout was much faster to wake up from magically induced sleep than the young mage was to stir from deep trance. By the time all the lights in Orison''s mind clicked on, he was pinned down by a wild eyed and angry looking Gan. In the next second, he realized his teaser suit wasn''t activated and trying to reactivate it didn''t do anything.


    Lamely he quickly said, "I was just trying to show you that-"


    "Do you think, I''m some kind of saint!?" Gan growled in a heated whisper.


    The Northlander ground against him to illustrate his point. A shudder shook both of their frames but for entirely different reasons. The shock of the situation had stolen Orison''s voice long enough for Gan to notice the young mage''s trembling and anxiety.


    With what little rationality he could muster, Gan said, "Get out before I do what I want with you no matter what it was you were ''just trying to show me''."


    Gan''s snarling face, the humiliating situation that was way outside the borders of what he had planned and the barked order to finish it off, caused Orison to snap. Unaware in the heat of the moment, Orison''s eyes became serpentine and blazed with spiritual potency. Stored essence throughout his body activated at once. In a tenth of a second, Gan was the one pinned down, unable to free himself.


    The young mage said through a rage fueled hiss, "Your conduit ate my suit. Whether you''re aware of it or not, it would only do that if it''s what YOU wanted."


    Lowering his head down til their noses almost touched, he stared through the scout''s eyes as if he was scouring Gan soul. "It''s laughable that you think you could take ANYTHING from me I didn''t want to give."


    The sudden twitching of an uncomfortable truth trapped between them distracted Orison enough to keep from saying something cruel. It also reminded him that they weren''t having a squabble in the training room but in rather compromising positions on the scout''s bed. More than anything, he became aware that the instinct propelled impulse to intimidate was having a much different effect on Gan than it would have on most.


    The summer storm inside his head cooling down rapidly, Orison made to climb off while he said, "Aside from my teaser suit, apparently. Now I''m-"


    Hands freed, Gan reached out and pulled Orison back to him. Even if Gan had been the most beautiful girl in the world, Orison was almost as far away from willingness to indulge as he could get. It did give him an idea of how to disentangle himself from the current situation, however.


    Whipping a hand around to latch onto Gan''s throat, he slammed the man back down into the bed and said seethingly. "If you come at me like that again, you better damn well make sure you have all the playing you want to do out of your system. If not, the first time I catch you f***ing around, at least I won''t have problems anymore because you''ll be spending the rest of your life as a girl... after I rip your d*ck off."


    Gan let go. A nervous chuckle clawed its way out before a hiccup followed it.


    With a set of triathlon gear and over robe in place, Orison turned back towards him. "So, we''re in agreement? We are best friends who currently support each other''s right to enjoy whatever private entertainments we want?"


    Voice a little squeaky, Gan said, "Uh, yeah."


    "And the line between us, is that something I need to plan on you crossing someday or have I scared you off for good?" Orison said with a smirk.


    Choosing that moment to remember he was a Northlander bad*ss, the scout leered at him and said, "I''m tempted to cross right now... But you''re right. I''m not ready to settle down yet."


    "Take off the promise ring," Orison said sternly.


    Shocked and a little hurt under the confusion, Gan struggled and with the sound of a painfully cracked knuckle, took off the plain gold band Orison had given him in White River. After taking a moment to load it with some things, Orison slipped off the ruby ring. In one fluid motion, the young mage put it on Gan''s finger and hit the swelling digit with healing. He took advantage of the scout looking at the ruby ring numbly to slip his finger into the gold band.


    "If you ever slink off for any reason while still wearing that, I''ll track you down. Depending on the situation, I''ll hug you, kick the crap out of you or murder you... Not necessarily just one of those... If you give me that ring back, I''ll only accept it if you''ve found someone that makes you happy. You''ll have to be a damn good actor to trick me.


    "If the day comes that being best friends isn''t enough, you give me that ring and I''ll give you this one back. That way, I''ll know you''re serious and not just teasing me or some other possible dumb misunderstanding... Don''t worry, by the way. This little baby''s going to be tricked out real soon."


    Orison finished his speech by pointing at the plain band with a cheeky grin.


    "You know that Northlanders aren''t built to handle this kind of sh*t without having something to break. Can you pretend we''re still drunk?" Gan asked with a warble in his voice.


    Looking at the person who was still his best friend, Orison said in an exaggerated tone, "I can''t believe you actually took that seventeenth shot, Gan. Hoooow are you going to keep it down!?"


    The scout shuffled over to the young mage and buried his head into the thinner, smaller shoulder and ugly cried. Once he was calmed down enough, Orison left him to get himself put back together and went through the adjoining door into the master bedroom. Safely on the other side with the door closed, the young mage slumped to the floor and let off a sigh of relief before instantly feeling guilty about it.


    Annoyed and suffering a little adrenaline after-shakes, he took a long, hot shower. Changing into a set of casual clothes with proper shoes, he silently thanked Rio for being a spend thrift and made his way to the kitchen. After grabbing a quick bite to eat, he made his rounds and found out that Stag was the only one still sleeping at ten in the morning.


    Stepping outside, he hollered at ''the boys''. By his tribe''s laws, Gurrut was already a man but not by Avalon law. He had a couple of months left before he was eighteen. That didn''t stop the orc blooded teen from being able to get on the same wavelength as Rio or stepping up to handle responsibility.


    According to some of the earlier memories that Orison had of the ''future not meant to be'', Gurrut was mentally flexible and much different than his more traditional tribal kin. He had even gone to Avalon secondary school for a time. He also had the build up of daily cleansing lash scars to prove it.


    With those thoughts in mind, he had Rio show Gurrut over to the Second heaven commissary circuit to pick up some party supplies and a few personal items for the young man. While he handed over some funds for Rio, the bulk of their trip''s funds were in Gurrut''s hands. With merits burning a hole in his pocket, Rio was itching to go.


    Before, Garret could volunteer to tag along, the young mage asked him to take Stag and Gan to the same place. It seemed that the brothers were bonding quickly but Garret''s enthusiasm was wearing Gurrut out a little. The Orc blooded young man might be flexible minded but he was slightly tilted to the introvert side of the scales.


    "A hundred thousand? Are you poor?" Stag asked after he saw his merit budget.


    "Am I supposed to be worried about merits and the mostly disposable things it can buy?" Orison said dully.


    Stag nodded thoughtfully. "Fair enough. The drinks alone made it worth the trip but... Can I hope for more?"


    Orison chuckled. "If you do, it won''t be in vain. My skin''s not thick enough to turn your life upside-down for just a little side bar sipping. That was just a bit of perk sharing."


    Garret sighed. "Our ride''s here... What kind of life did you lead before you came here that 100,000 merits is a ''poor'' shopping trip, ''uncle'' Stag?"


    Climbing into the cab, Stag regaled Garret about his days as a debauched nightclub owner as if it were years ago rather than a few days.


    With the house to himself, Orison sauntered over to the training room bunker as if he didn''t have a care in the world. That changed as soon as he was inside. After spending a quarter of an hour to make sure his surveillance security was as tight as it could be, he silently waited for 12:34 PM.


    When the time passed, a nearly invisible ripple spilled across the world. Only people with spiritual sensitivity over a certain threshold had a chance to catch it but it set off every planar sensor in Avalon. As soon as it was over, Orison checked his space to see a small collection of items added to it. Combing through them, he wasn''t surprised to see that the couple of things used to make items or supplements for Dr. Odd were missing.


    Riding the ripple to hide it, Noxflora had sent him a tithe. It wasn''t some impressive thing and there had been a small doubt in Orison''s heart that she had done it to butter him up because of what lay in the Plague Barrens but she had done it a few times until the the resources she requested had unleashed an unintended consequence. Some of that dire situation would have been reversed by his time slip but there would still be plenty of ''abyss'' to pay for his spiritual daughter.


    "Well, my new focus isn''t going to make itself," he thought.

 178 Country of Champions 29

    Setup for the party went without a hitch.


    Seeing some of the people who were arriving, Maria asked through Celeste, "Is what I made good enough for such people?"


    "If they don''t like your tapas, they can kiss my... grits. They''re delicious. It would only prove that your daughter''s palate is more refined than theirs," Orison said.


    Despite the dress code being casual, a few people such as Adena''s father and Esme''s parents along with LeStrage''s wife, seemed intent on outdoing everyone else just enough to be able to look down on them. They would pay for their snobbishness by getting the weakest mix he could get away with.


    Emse did apologize for inviting herself and having to put Orison on the spot. "I honestly didn''t know this would happen. But once they found out that Adena''s father would be here, I think they came to some strange conclusions about what was going to be offered."


    Orison shrugged. "I pretty much agreed to be your beard for awhile and got a very nice appetizer as an opening offer. I''m not one to ''eat'' without paying... I don''t want you to think I''m doing this for any other reason than empathy and genuine feelings. Being nasty is a knee jerk reaction sometimes. I''m sorry."


    His intentions to keep things cool and detached crumbled the moment his unintended verbal dart struck a nerve, causing Esme to tear up.


    Dabbing her eyes, Esme said, "It''s alright. I haven''t given you much reason to be ''kind''."


    Smiling gently, Orison said, "Want to see if I can turn a friendship makeup handshake into a touching gesture between love interests?"


    The faint smile that represented her thousand Watt happiness range graced her cold face as she extended her hand. "This, I have to see."


    He took it firmly in his own, raised and lowered it no more than a few millimeters quickly before turning it slightly and raising her deceptively delicate hand to a brief brush with his lips.


    "At least this way, I have an option to make peace with you if I make another stupid mistake. I never claimed to be perfect," Orison said as he lowered her hand a bit before releasing it.


    "That will do nicely, Mr Cantrip. Now, let''s see how you can do at an A list function sometime. We-" Esme said before cutting off at the approach of her mother.


    Giving a saccharine smile, Esme''s mother made a similar hand gesture and introduced herself while apologizing for her daughter''s lack of manners.


    While giving the saintly smile he reserved for fake and anger inducing people, he replied, "Since this is a casual function intended to relax and give the ambiance of a home event for nearest and dearest, formal politeness would be rather stiff, don''t you think?"


    The woman said, "Rather important people here for such an occasion. Or are you intending to claim intimate relationships with all of us?"


    Esme stared at Orison in wide eyed shock. Her mother, not easily outdone in a social spar, fired back quickly. "It seems Esme''s taste for trash has outdone itself, yet again."


    Orison nodded in cordial agreement. "But I hope you won''t be too hard on her, Miss Lacquer. It''s only spiritual theory that a child chooses their parents before birth."


    "A pompous, over evaluated C-class worm should learn their place before someone, my husband for instance, harshly puts them in their place," she said venomously.


    Saintly smile blooming radiantly, the young mage said, "Some wyrms you encounter are spelled with a ''Y'', Miss Lacquer. And I''ll gladly flog your reputable husband off my property using nothing but the C-class magical ability you seem to hold in disregard. I sincerely hope you''ll call my bluff. If not, show some social grace instead of your *ss. It would greatly be appreciated."


    As her mother walked away with a glass smooth resting b*tch face, Esme looked at Orison with wet eyes while slightly trembling. "Orison, why would you do that? My father was considered a candidate for the triumvir artifact that your mentor holds. This could cause a feud between them."


    Orison snorted, "The artifact chooses it''s bearer. Candidates are a fairy tale. And any A-hole who challenges the Triumvirate will quickly find out why Avalon has survived two attempted coups and numerous infiltration. Here, the nights by the lake can be a little chilly."


    The young mage pulled out his over robe and draped it on her shoulders. "This one has sentimental value to me but if you like it, I''ll try my best to give you one. Do you prefer any particular color or effect?"


    She was enamored with his over robe. Whether it was the magic on it, the oil slick sheen or it''s texture that held her attention so much, it was hard to tell. One thing was certain, it had the intended effect of distracting her. During their short conversation, she managed to inform him that Trisha wanted to be surprised and had no desire to ''put him out'' for anything expensive or fancy.


    Their edge of the party stroll was interrupted by Esme''s father. As the smiling man strolled up to them, Orison saw curiosity and challenge the man''s eyes but no real malice. He suddenly felt like his initial impression of the man had been a little off due to his wife casting his own looks a shade or two more sinister than they would have looked were he standing alone. That didn''t mean the man wouldn''t thrash him if the older mage could. There was more than a touch of soldier still alive under that late forties ease.


    "My wife informs me that you have made some fairly bold claims, young man. Do you consider yourself proficient at magic fundamentals?" Mr. Lacquer said, the challenge in his eyes growing a little stronger.


    Orison quipped, "An entire generation could spend their whole lives on one thread of that dizzying tapestry and their combined discovery could still be considered incompetent. So, no but I do feel confident enough to display it in front of present company."


    "Do you feel confident enough to play stage magician for the entertainment of your guests. Maybe help an old, retired man stretch his arms and limber his mind?" the man said jovially but not quite managing to cover the building excitement underneath.


    Orison gave him a genuine smile and said, "Only if you join me for a toast afterwards."


    The man chuckled and said, "Help me put on a good show and I''ll consider it a deal."


    Over to the side, Esme looked concerned. It was likely that the man had roughed up or ran off quite a few of her and Trisha''s playmates in the past. Orison didn''t get the feeling that the man was cruel or mean spirited at all. It seemed more likely that Mr. Lacquer was just a traditional father that liked to test the metal of his daughter''s suitors. He was also probably bored as hell and wishing he hadn''t retired so early.


    After Orison agreed to the duel couched as a performance, Mr. lacquer and Jacques set up a safety shield which the young mage was obliged to power from his own property''s magic grid. Since half the reason why he agreed was to make his mentor look good, being bitten by the extra expense left a sour taste in Orison''s mouth but he already knew what kind of man LeStrange was. He resolved in his heart to make the man cough up some merits and a little bit of blood soon anyway. So, he wrote the act of petty stinginess off.


    As the young and old mage squared off against each other inside the circle, Mr. Lacquer said. "Nice focus but that''s not the one written on your file."


    While the man fired off a behind the back casting of ''Frost Shards'' made while he was talking, the young mage countered with a flip of ''Degree Shift'' while he replied, "My mentor informed me that creating my own focus would be best. It''s little more than a novice attempt at a master''s work. Nothing to brag about."


    With his one spell fluctuating heat and cold sporadically, Orison managed to disrupt three split second quick casts of the older mage. Expecting a counter, the man had begun setting up a model of an absorbing shell of magic Orison didn''t know. Having picked up the trick of not only sensing inert essence but also directing it some what, the young mage had collected the small amount shed by their castings and slung it at the center node of the unfamiliar model.


    Since it was an absorbing spell, it broke the model and temporarily clogged the extremity of Mr. Lacquer''s dominant magic channel. With lightning fast situational adaptation, Mr Lacquer redirected his reserve towards the channel at his throat. Unfortunately for him, Orison could see the movement of essence and the map of the older man''s channels was an open book to him.


    A half second into a vocal casting, the man received an exploding five pounds of telekinetic pressure to the hollow under his throat, pushing extra essence into an incomplete model, shattering it. It would take another second or two for the man''s main channel to push out the dissolving inert essence and pull more air into his lungs while his eyes watered slightly. Instead of pushing the advantage, Orison allowed the man to save some dignity.


    As the little bit of time needed for the man to recover elapsed, the young mage said, "All the audience got to see out of that exchange was a couple of weak flashes and ripples. Should we ramp it up into something a little less focused on efficiency and a little more on showmanship?"


    Disgruntled but grateful for not being embarrassed, the man said, "Just as long as we have an understanding that I was performing at the same class as you. I''d hate for you to mistake my abilities to be that limited."


    "Don''t worry, Trick Shot. No one here is going to think you''re going soft when there''s stacks of arrays all around my student''s property stopping your signature illusion magic from working," LeStrange said with a sly grin.


    Head snapping with precision, Mr Lacquer stared down Jacques as his jolliness evaporated. "Don''t start getting a big head because I went easy on your student for my daughter''s sake. I''ve wiped the floor with you from primary to seminar at Miskatonic University."


    As LeStrange revved up to some return statement that would lead to a duel Orison wouldn''t be able to control the flow of, the young mage said, "Too bad it and a large chunk of old Massachusetts were swallowed up on the Night of Writhing Skies. It should be a lesson to all mages that magic is to never be underestimated or it''s the innocent bystanders that get hurt the most. There''s not much recorded in the History books about the University or Writhing Skies. Would either of you be interested in telling me about it, as people who lived the event. After the private toast I have planned, of course."


    The party goers were more than a little bummed not to have a good show. Stag came to the rescue with some magic tricks of his own. Soon enough, Rio and Daphne, along with some of their friends that were added to the list after Orison''s ''futures past'' moment, got an itch to strut their stuff.


    The young mage was grateful to them for the diversion as he navigated the mine field between Jacques and Esme''s father. That is, until Adena got into the shielded area and showed off her ''tricks''. With every new explosion, Orison watched the merit bill from the grid grow visibly higher by thousands a shot. When it reached close to 100k, excused himself for a moment, feeling a little green as he shut the show down.


    A few rounds of private toasts later with VIPs that were too ''I'' to turn down and and some watered down mix toasts to self invited guests that were too capable of disrupting his plans as a group if snubbed, the first half of his party drew to a close. LeStrange had enough sense of presence to realize that part of the crowd that was causing Orison''s real guests from enjoying themselves were still loitering around because he was there and excused himself. The same couldn''t be said about Esme''s father who Orison had ''potential son-in-law'' charmed a little too well.


    After balancing the scales and seeing more good than harm come from it, the young mage let it be. Besides, with him occupying the father and the mother having to play nice once her husband lost interest in defending her pride, Esme was free to enjoy Trisha''s company openly at a party. It also seemed to put Adena''s father a bit more at ease seeing the young mage playing nice with Mr. Lacquer.


    A little after ten, Orison rounded up Liberty''s children from the bunker training room and took them to his room, explaining that their mother would be by to pick them up late and he didn''t want that riling up the other kids. He hoped their presence, soundly sleeping under the nourishment of the medicine he slipped them, would help her make the choice she hadn''t the last go round. If it didn''t, that was fine too.


    When Roy and Turner Came stumbling in at a touch before eleven, Orison had made his rounds and tried to be as social as he could with his attention pulled in too many directions. The two had been delayed by an on call assignment and judging by their demeanor, had done a little pre-gaming on the way over. After everyone had enjoyed their chuckles at the small comedy drama centered around Gina''s only half serious butt chewing for their little side venture, the young mage got everyone''s attention.


    He said, "Now, I know on the invite, it said midnight margaritas but everyone''s here and it''s midnight somewhere. It''s no secret that this is a supplement party. So, I hope no one gives me guff for including these few youngsters here."


    There was some good natured ribbing including a few comments towards the ''youngster'' host.


    "On top of the main attraction tonight, I have some little odds and ends I made for a few of you. If I didn''t, don''t feel too slighted. I''m only just recently alchemy certified.


    "Aside from our august company this evening of Mr. Firebrand and Mr Lacquer, the rest of you haven''t had much to any opportunity to get your hands on quality supplements before. They can make you groggy or outright sleepy. Feel free to crash where it''s comfortable but my room''s off limits. A friend of mine''s children are in there until they can swing in to pick them up.


    "I have a last small warning before the assembly line starts. If you get an edibles box, don''t switch your drink out with someone else''s. They''re balanced to allow you to get through the drink before a person might be hit with a little sudden narcolepsy. I don''t think anyone wants to wake up tomorrow realizing they spilled their expensive drink on the floor. As willing as I am to share, I don''t want to see someone wasting the opportunity I''m trying to give them."


    With a little help from Roy, disposable margarita glasses were getting limed and salted as fast as Orison could mix. Within less than three minutes, everyone had drinks and edible boxes in hand. Most were waiting for the toast but some had sneaked a few sips while they were waiting, including Mr Lacquer who was giving the young mage an evaluating look.


    Orison raised his glass and said, "As you all know, Gan here is the man of the hour but this is also Stag''s welcoming party too. Say hi at some point if you haven''t already. But before that, is there anything you''d like to say? This is your toast."


    Looking a little out of element, he just said, "Don''t go to the Irregulars. It sucks. And if you didn''t know, UTF tester balls aren''t worth the price they charge to eat one."


    After everyone had taken their supplements and a few sips, Orison got everyone''s attention again and said, "Stag, you want to say a few words?"


    With a wicked grin the green haired man said, "My rooms that way and I''m a very friendly snuggle buddy."


    Unsurprisingly, there were a few intrigued people, including Garret''s mom and a couple older Rowdies students.


    Clearing his throat, Orison quickly added, "Unless you live here, bedrooms are off limits to those under eighteen. That includes you, Daphne and, uh, your friend."


    Daphne''s grandmother gave the young mage a thumbs up and a wicked smile of her own before being the first to drop out with a small amount of drink left. Trisha, who was standing nearby, caught it and made sure it didn''t go to waste. It didn''t take too long after that for people to start finding places to sit, lay or sprawl before slipping into dreamland.


    The two ''fathers'' who were far more resilient to the effects, watched curiously as Orison, Gan and Stag quickly coordinated the collection of old glasses before replacing them with another that had a small amount of fluid swished around in them.


    Right about the time that Orison made the bag of collected glasses disappear, Mr Lacquer became too curious not to ask what was going on. Mr Firebrand added a concerned voice of his own, feeling a little groggy.


    The young mage said, "We''re about to have unwelcome guests who want to confiscate what they think I was serving. All they''re going to find is Triple Seven traces."


    Building up anger, Mr Lacquer joined in. "Why are we getting this tired?"


    Orison said with a sunny smile, "That would be the devils getting chewed up in the basement."

 179 Country of Champions 30

    Seeing mutant abilities and magic firing up, Orison unhurriedly added, "Check your spiritual seat, Mr. Lacquer. I''m using someone''s attempt to set me up and discredit my mentor to provide another, far more rare supplement."


    Orison chuckled and thought to himself about a certain daytime talk show host''s catch phrase. "Check under your damn seat, gentlemen... Because I got something for ya!"


    "Show me... Now or I''ll blow up your house," Mr Firebrand said.


    "Help yourself. It''s in the basement... Mr Lacquer, if you know some way to make it stronger or more efficient, be my guest." The young mage opened the pantry door.


    A wave of relatively pure spirit essence spilled out before radially spreading and sinking into the floor. Unable to maintain, the sudden burst of spirit strengthening knocked Mr Firebrand out cold. Fortunately, Mr. Lacquer could see what was going on from where they were standing or he would have went full on battle mage mode as soon as that happened.


    "That circle inlay has been here for at least five years. I''d like to study it and what you''ve done to turn what should have been a huge disaster into a huge boon instead," Mr Lacquer said.


    "Feel free but this is a Black Ouroboros, Deep Blue Pisces event. You''re only allowed to share your findings with a Triumvirate member, their cabinet secretary or designated adjunct" the young mage added.


    Mr Lacquer thought about it and said, "Should I stay to help with your visitors first?"


    Orison shook his head. "Get to looking before you lose some of your portion to someone else. The devils are going to stop sending fodder soon and then it''s all about who''s closer and more primed to receive."


    The older mage closed the pantry door behind him, not willing to waste a moment or an opportunity, either one. A few minutes later, six Planar Response personnel with T3 patches on their uniform came storming in yelling and barking out orders in an intentionally confusing manner. Only, they found a room full of sleeping people aside from Orison.


    Before they could lay hands on him, they looked at the touch screen held up by his fingers that was pointing at them, showing a scowling Jacques face. "Does the patch on your uniform say ''T One of Three'' or T3!? How dare you yell at me!"


    The team lead stepped forward and said, "Sir, your student is suspected of possessing undeclared and untaxed resources. We''ve been tasked with search and seizure. There is also an anonymous tip off that Mr Cantrip is a devil devotee."


    Orison snorted and said, "That''s funny. From where I''m sitting, two of your team members are possessed and the team leader bears a a devil''s devotee MARK!"


    Before anyone could stop him, the team leader opened fire on Orison while yelling, "He''s possessed!"


    Orison said, "Once the devils are completely removed. Feel free to escort your two other members and report directly to Triumvir LeStrange. Use the secret tunnels. This is a Black Ouroboros, Deep Blue Pisces event."


    Before they had a chance to ask Jacques questions or inquire about the team leader, Gravat stepped into the house and said, "Get going!"


    As the team leader stood paralyzed, Orison''s spirit bottle formation, attempting to ''pull the devil out'' while the mark attempted to consume the team leader''s essence to keep him from being captured and questioned, the blue skinned man pulled out a chain and wrapped the man up.


    Glaring at Orison fiercely, Gravat said, "We only have around five to ten minutes to finish what I came for."


    For a brief second, the house phased back into reality fully before Orison reactivated the massive and decades old circle deep underground. It had been used to move the property to Avalon and left there as a secret emergency escape magic transport. The young mage could only imagine how many people could fit inside it but it took five motes just to prime it for a little partial phasing.


    Orison sighed and said, "Close the door. A message was sent to LeStrange along with a recording of certain events. Once we partially phase back out, no one will be messing with us for hours even if there were nukes blowing up in front of the house."


    Gravat looked confused. "I don''t understand this here but not really here crap but I doubt you explaining it is going to help. Let''s just get MY thing over with."


    The young mage shouted to the back of the house, "Stag, quit perving on Janet while you pretend to be asleep. It''s time for work now."


    Taking the box Gravat handed over, Orison ignored the instinctual urge to assault the blue man while dodging the jerky backhanded swipe Gravat threw. Afterwards, he stored the box in the ruby ring on Gan''s finger before checking his room. The children were gone.


    On his bed were four feathers and the scent of a sweet herbal cigar. Smiling and wishing the family well, he stored away the downy gifts left for him along with the unused supplements. Once his bed had been prepared, with a twist of will, Orison knocked out Gravat with an extra strong surge of essence enrichment as soon as he got the blue man to his room.


    Bringing Adena''s unconscious form in as well, Orison closed the door. A little over two hours later, Stag came out to grab Gan and bring him in. By the third hour, Adena had been placed back where she had originally been, the only difference about her, a streak of cobalt blue in her restored to sunflower yellow hair.


    Restored to sanity, a bottle of Devil''s Tongue rolling empty onto the floor, Orison looked up to see Stag gawking at him in horrified wonder. He disentangled himself from the three foot doll of a woman he was mutually grappling and cleaned off the gory mess on his bed. Both of them looked over to the baby wrapped in a blanket with involuntary cold eyes.


    "He attempted to screw us both over in various ways, Stag, but now he''s a clean soul with a new life. Please, please tell me your weird substitution ability worked properly," Orison said with a small sense of non-intuition inspired dread.


    Stag said, "Without a single hitch. I was somewhat surprised that I could do it with a woman''s egg too. I highly doubt what I witnessed was pure chaos that just somehow turned out exactly the way you wanted. I know you don''t want to talk much about it but I would really like some kind of explanation as repayment for being forced to watch that interesting but insane exchange."


    The young mage said, "That lilliputian tyrant in my bed is Gravat''s original form before she screwed up using a vial of fantasia trying to make herself ''the perfect man''. The most ridiculous thing about it is that she did it out of vanity. I suppose she could be forgiven based off of how young she was at the time. The rest of the story will have to wait for now."


    Stag shook his head and said, "Can you at least explain why the vial of fantasia didn''t fully work? And what am I supposed to do with the rest of this bottle of ''Long *ss Night''?"


    Orison took it and placed it into the ruby ring right next to the box. "The original creator of your world split and imbued their essence into two races. Switching from the Popolo race she was born as to whatever the other one''s called, she accidentally awoke the spiritual bloodline that was dormant in her. That consumed too much of the potion''s power and made the transition incomplete. Physically, she was a male blue giant person but she wasn''t on a deeper level. She turned herself into a mule... In more ways than one."


    As the young mage stirred Mr Firebrand enough to hand the baby to him, Stag asked, "What were those brews exactly?"


    Answering Stag''s spoken question, he addressed the confusion present in Mr Firebrand as well. "Devil''s Tongue strengthens the spiritual seat from outside intrusion but while it''s working, the person who took it is little more than an animal with most of their higher brain function dormant while the drink does its thing. Long A** Night is a brew that provides concentrated nourishment while it accelerates biological aging.


    "Before you get too riled up with whatever you''re imagining, Mr Firebrand, the only thing that was directly touched on your daughter was what nature makes her shed on a monthly basis and her hand, BY a hand. The boy you''re holding is your biological grandson. The surrogate mother wishes to remain anonymous and the father no longer exists. Suffice it to say, every advantage you wanted your grandchild to have, he has."


    The man stood up with vengeance burning in his eyes as he said, "To say you went too far is an understatement that words can''t even cover. If there is anything, and I mean anything, wrong with this child or my daughter, I will see you rot in the filthiest pit the Irregulars have to offer."


    Orison said dully, "The fiance that you picked out for Adena is in Triumvirate custody being interrogated on where he got his devil mark, among other things."


    His eyes blazed with spiritual potency as he added. "That place you just imagined for me, dig about six feet deeper and that''s where your corpse could be found if you weren''t Adena''s father. I''m sure your late wife would agree you belong there... Good day, Mr Firebrand. I hope grandparent-hood sees your family line preservation schemes come to a halt before you ruin anymore lives."


    The demonic sunflower of a man said, "Save your threats and lectures. Even the patron guardian of Avalon won''t change my mind if I want to tear you to pieces."


    Orison gave a saintly smile. "I''ll pass on the message the next time we speak."


    Once Adena''s father opened the door, a T3 swat team swarmed the place and the entire situation devolved to an endless litany of statements and testimony that continued until late evening. Fortunately, everyone present was well rested and feeling a natural high that would take weeks to fade away. And once again, the young mage was presented with a long list of generous merits and harsh demerits that almost broke even.


    That ''almost'' turned into a slight loss when Jacques slipped in a personal defamation of character suit over using his likeness and voice to represent him without his permission. Since one of the largest demerits was already a charge of appropriating the authority of a Triumvir with ''just'' but unsanctioned cause, Orison knew it was spite for leaving his mentor out of the spiritual essence buffet. Instead of reading between the lines and ''making things right'' with Jacques, the young mage responded by charging him with resource extortion and misappropriation of resources by an instructor for personal use.


    With merits and reputation on the line, Jacques folded and withdrew the civil suit. It took realizing that the reclusive Third Triumvir was on board and a message that Orison was willing to drop charges if HE did, however. The young mage also got an ear full.


    LeStange said, "Are you trying to humiliate me to death!? So, I got too hot under the collar band. Talk to me first."


    Orison laughed menacingly. "When you''re angry, you can do what you want and that''s okay. But when it''s my turn to fire back, you expect me to turn the other cheek and politely talk things out with you while you use your position to brow beat me? Maybe if it was the first time. That''s pretty much what I did.


    "Have you forgotten that you personally requested that I defend my B-class status way ahead of when I had to? Are we going to pretend that doesn''t make me look bad, that we had a falling out or that there''s something wrong with me and you want a reason to cancel your mentorship? You''re not an adjunct throwing the weight of your boss''s name around to get your way anymore.


    "You ARE the boss and if I was a typical person of my age, regardless of class, you would have ruined my life! And for what? I''m going to get off of here before I say something you won''t be able to forgive and I''ll never apologize for."


    Ending the video call, the young mage stewed on all the extra complications this go round was trying to saddle him with. He was almost grateful when Stag interrupted him to ask about what they were going to do about the Popolo version of Gravat upstairs. There was nothing to do. They had to wait for her to get up on her own since Aurora didn''t send anyone for her.


    Stag said, "Alright, explain how the whole thing between Adena and Gravat went."


    Sighing, the young mage spilled. "A soul that''s strong or lucky enough can survive being fragmented. Those fragments are still part of each other. If they meet back up later but haven''t changed much, they''ll be drawn and try to fuse together. The dominant piece determines which body becomes the vessel. Reality will attempt to ''auto correct'' as well.


    "In this case, I used that knowledge to make low dimension nonsense work in my favor. You saw what part I played and I don''t want the details but with your substitutions, blue man Gravat was the father, shorty female Gravat played the surrogate mother and Adena was the egg donor. When Adena touched Gravat, they should have fused entirely but both of their souls were ''full'' already from freshly squeezed devil juice. So, instead of fusing, they shared.


    "Adena was still the dominant soul. So, she got ''reality'' custody of the baby born in this world. And THIS is were things get tricky. I magically forced the conception and the brew is what allowed little baby Herne to be born but the seed was still technically sterile until that transfer happened.


    "Now, inside the ring on Gan''s finger is the rest of Gravat''s legacy on ice. Because Gan has a special kind of field around himself, only part of reality''s ''auto correct'' worked on it... That''s right. I''m about ninety percent sure that there is ''live'' blue man Gravat stuff in that box. Worse case scenario, it''s Popolo Gravat but at least it''s not an egg. Absolute weirdest possible is it''s male Adena stuff but if Gan''s field was only capable of protecting it to that low of a degree or reality favored Adena THAT much, I''m almost certain it would have turned into an egg or two instead."


    Right about the time he was finished satisfying that part of Stag''s curiosity, along came a more youthful and exuberant Janet to flirt with the green haired man but Orison stopped her. "I have a proposition for you."


    Janet looked at him knowingly and said, "Sweetie, I just don''t think that would be right. I''m flattered and-"


    Orison withheld the desire to laugh in her face and said, "I didn''t mean that kind of proposition... Well, maybe it is but not for me. I wonder if you''d be interested in baby trapping a certain Triumvir''s adjunct. Are you familiar with the name Gravat?


    "Please don''t get me wrong. If you were planning on being strait laced and giving a go at nine to five life or pursuing higher education wi-"


    Janet smiled and quickly said, "Seriously, if it''s not going to get me in trouble, please pin a gold cockroach badge on my dirty girl scout sash."


    Orison went and got the box out of the ruby ring and handed it to Janet. "Have at it. Oh, if you want to make it super fast and painless, take the rest of this bottle of booze with you. Don''t drink any until after you''re finished using the kit though."


    A bit later, Janet said from the bathroom, "This is legit!?"


    Orison said, "Yup. A generous portion of his estate is already secured to the purpose of providing for a child."


    A little later, she came out and said, "Where do I rest at?"


    The young mage said, "Just take my room. Push the little gal over if she''s hogging the bed."


    After Janet had swigged the rest of the bottle down and settled in for a nap, Stag looked at Orison and said, "You''re a little screwed up."


    Orison replied, "No, I''m saving her life. She got her youthful swagger back and she would have been on her same tricks. With this, she gets a nest egg for twenty years and no more roaching opportunities because they max out at four fathers. The one she nearly ruined her life on still counts.


    "Come on, last time you played midwife. So, I''ll do it this time," the young mage said as he coaxed Stag into watching the ''miracle of life'' happen in fast forward once again.


    ***


    Gravat came to with a wide eyed start at the sound of twin screams. She realized that she was in a dirty bed, splattered with the after birth of miracles. For a moment, she was disoriented and thought that Orison hadn''t kept his word but then she noticed there was a pretty but slightly pale woman laying on the bed with her.


    A powerful presence in the room made Gravat look to the door where Aurora stood. Two assistants carried off Janet and the lightly blue skinned twins, stepping over the battered and bruised bodies of Stag and Orison. The matronly radiant older woman gave Gravat a gentle smile as she walked over and bent down to be at eye level.


    "The beautiful truth that was Gravat is dead. I will mourn its passing... What should I call the equally as beautiful truth that sits before me?" Aurora crooned soothingly.


    Not knowing exactly why, the small woman cried brokenheartedly, then said, "I was called Gavati. It''s been so long, it''s almost all I know of myself... of this, this truth... No, wait. Pelenel was my playmate servant. He was my best friend. Why would I forget that?... Why would I forget that I was the last heir of Sek? When I took the vial to hide my identity from the invaders, something went wrong."


    Aurora gave her a compassionate, watery eyed smile before hugging her and said, "Then come with me and I''ll help you find more of your truth."


    Gavati looked at Orison and Aurora added, "He''s going to be keeping himself busy for awhile. I''ll make sure that you get your chance to ask him whatever you need to and I''ll make sure they are his truths or I''ll beat him up again."


    The small woman laughed and walked out with the motherly goddess-like figure.

 180 Country of Champions 31

    "Where are they taking my mother?" Garret asked alongside a confused but calm Babs.


    While Orison applied healing to himself and Stag, he said, "Aurora''s going to make sure that she and her two new children are alright."


    Garret, with near hysteria level panic said, "What!?"


    "She agreed to attempt having Gravat''s children in order to claim the resource legacy set aside for them. It was all legal and successful, I might add. It just became a little dangerous because she had twins and the, uh, potion meant to sustain her wasn''t designed to support that much extra development," the young mage supplied.


    He assured Garret and Babs that their mother was more than alright. Technically, she was the Aurora claimed widow of Gravat. The millions of merits to be doled out to care for the twins was only their part. The blue skinned man had also set aside some generous gifts for the future ''baby mama''. What Orison didn''t know was that Gravat did all that at Aurora''s request with little hope of his own. The Triumvir had a plan but Orison royally f***ed it up.


    "So, she beat you up because she was p*ssed at you. You took it because accepting that whooping means that she still likes you but why did she beat me up?" Stag asked.


    Orison smiled wryly and said, "Because you lied when she asked why you were smiling at what she was doing. If you had said that you were smiling because watching me get beat up was funny, she probably would have stopped kicking my *ss to give you a hug and praised you for your ''beautiful truth''."


    With glazed eyes, Stag said, "I''ll try to remember that for next time."


    Finally nearing one o'' clock in the morning, Monday, Gan and Gurrut finally stirred back to wakefulness. It wouldn''t have taken nearly that long but Gan had always seemed to lag behind in the spiritual strength department and Gurrut was pretty low in spiritual potency himself. The young mage had taken a bit of extra care in stuffing their soul shells extra full and slowly pushed a little more in as they claimed a little.


    After Orison filled them in of things they needed to know and was ready to call it a night, Stag asked, "Alright. One more thing and I won''t ask anymore questions about it."


    Wryly the young mage said, "Shoot."


    "The Herne thing, how did a remnant end up back in me and why did it leave while I was working my exchange abilities for you?" Stag said.


    Sighing, he satisfied the green haired man''s curiosity. "During your time at Eo Pan, of which I have no desire to know anything about, our old mutual friend was still recovering in whatever place he managed to reach in the mid dimensions. Your sacrifices drew a fatal amount of his sustaining essence back down. To keep from dying entirely, he followed it, nesting in a place he didn''t belong like some venereal disease.


    "Side note, I''m pretty sure that one of the twins now has that soul. Secondary side note, I have the tiny sparks of his companion spirits. Best part, he was stripped of his tie with the great aspect that created him because he now resides in the body of a baby with a touch of Fomorian spiritual bloodline."


    As if a light bulb went off, Stag said, "That''s why you did things in such a complicated way. Tribal fey and Fomorians don''t get along. You were using-"


    Orison cut him off. "Don''t... The line''s already paper thin on technicalities. It''s good enough to know that Gavati and I won''t instinctively want to hurt each other on sight. None of her children will either. Though, the more I think about it, they all could dislike me for a lot of other reasons. But damn it, I tried my best to please all involved with everything I had. If that isn''t enough, f*** them."


    ***


    Monday morning saw things back to regularly scheduled programming but with a few extra people. When Gan and Stag looked ready for whatever was coming, Orison slightly disappointed them but made them happy at the same time when he informed the two that they should enjoy a day of relaxation. It would be awhile before they''d have another.


    Once at school, the young mage and Garret went to juice box and then to first day of First Wave. Adena wasn''t there and she had been removed from their group. It seemed that Mr Firebrand had an entire week of evaluations and personal training for her to attend to. With the way they left off, it wouldn''t surprise Orison if the man made sure they''d never set eyes on each other until the day she was three months over seventeen.


    There was a side repercussion of that as well. Not knowing the change in situation, the powers that be behind the Rowdies program default assumed that Adena''s absence was Orison''s fault and upped his instructor to one from Summit training. That meant that for the following week, he''d be tortured daily by someone who was strong enough to beat him down unless he started flashing the aces up his sleeve which he wasn''t willing to do.


    The young mage didn''t mind anyway. People got better faster when they were challenging something beyond themselves. That''s what he told Garret every time the teen gave him a bitter look.


    Esme and Trisha were keeping their distance as well but for different reasons. It came out that Mrs Lacquer was having an affair with someone who had been named as a devil devotee. Orison knew it was The Third Triumvir''s previous adjunct. He had no idea how that batty old scientist Truimvir would take it but besides being devastated, Mr. Lacquer was closing ranks with his family until the dust settled and Trisha was trying to be a good friend and partner to Esme during the rough patch.


    The sudden social disconnect for Orison gave people the wrong impression and along with his own mentor''s actions against him, people thought that the young mage''s rising star was fading fast and that he was destined to become a treasure troll. A couple of students in First Wave had even approached Garret to see if he''d be interested in switching teams. They were confused that Garret stayed put and the instructors had Orison mentally evaluated because he seemed happier than usual in a situation where most would buckle or be stressed out.


    When Tuesday came rolling around, Rio informed the young mage that he''d be staying the night over at Daphne''s grandmother''s. To his annoyance, Orison asked him to the living room for a talk. When he tried to interrupt, he was shut down with a sharp bark that wasn''t customary for the young mage to deliver.


    He began, "First of all, I made this ring for you last night. It''ll take you a few months to move on from the magic on the wand but once you have, there''s more material in there for you to continue studying."


    Face going pale, Rio asked, "Are you kicking me out?"


    Orison chuckled with a touch of wistfulness behind it. "No. I do want you to start carrying all your valuables and things you care about with you at all times, though. Don''t open the spacial pocket on the large gem. It''s got a moderate amount of essence source material I call eternium in it.


    "The six smaller gems are also spacial pockets about the size of a footlocker each. The ring, as a whole, works as a focus. Only draw power from it when you have to. Try to keep storing magic in it instead until it''s full. You never know when you''ll be in places where the air will be supernaturally dead or hazardous to draw from."


    Shaking a little, Rio said, "You''re freaking me out. Am I going somewhere?"


    "I''m just giving you something and following it up with worry wart advice like I always do. Why would that freak you out?" Orison said, trying a little harder to hide his weird mood.


    Rio let out a sigh of relief and fiddled with the ring before he said, "This one here is locked with magic."


    The young mage nodded and said, "I put three locks with increasing difficulty on it. I want you to use it as practice. Please don''t use the wand to ruin it. It''ll help you learn two of the spells on your wand faster. Of course, if you find yourself in a dire or strange situation, I guess there might be something in there that''ll help. At least challenge yourself for a few days first."


    The next couple of days grew hectic again as Orison primed himself and took the test for a master''s degree in Planar Acquisitions. Once again, he didn''t do outstanding but he passed. While he went through the process of politely declining an invitation to join core administration as an academic, among many other invitations, he split up the remaining juice box time between the other four.


    Taking Orison''s advice from long ago, Gan picked up Engineering. Garret and Gurrut used theirs to get their secondary education finished. Stag used it to pick up some biology with a focus on mundane and supernatural horticulture.


    With the achievement tucked under his belt, communication opened between himself and LeStrange again to make sure the young mage wasn''t going to jump over to the Third Triumvir''s group of people. Aside from catching a nearly lethal case of the ''being busy'' himself, Jacques had thought over Orison''s words and relented that he had been a little thoughtless in his actions.


    "Yeah. When people are clowning you behind your back for putting your student on the spot only for him to show you he didn''t even need supernatural ability to defend a B-class privilege, I imagine that would open your eyes," the young mage thought unkindly.


    When he got off the touchscreen, Garret said, "I imagine you''re going to start missing your peace and quiet again. I bet all the people who were dogging you are going to feel some regret and start trying to butter you up again."


    Orison shrugged. "The circle''s closed. Let the jumping clowns jump whichever direction they see fit."


    The very next moment fate made him eat his words because he was notified that Roy had come to see him.


    When the man, fit and restored back to a year or two before his natural age, came to the door, he didn''t waste any time getting to the point. "I gave it some thought. If you''re okay with someone a little long in the tooth for a training wheels team, I''ll join you. Between the years I''ve sold off and the ones you sold in my name, I can flip without breaking contractual obligation."


    The young mage invited him in and sat down with some iced tea.


    After taking a drink, Roy added, "I mean, people don''t really think about it but having an equ- Don''t take this the wrong way but I thought this would be a Long Island or something."


    Orison chuckled and said, "I''ve kind of made a bad impression on you with drinking popping up every time we meet but I actually don''t do it that often. Not that I mind others doing it as long as they''re not slipping into high functioning alcoholism."


    Tucking that away, the equipment specialist said, "Not that I''m trying to hard sell myself but a person with my skills is pretty much on every acquisitions team and I thought you might like working with someone you know."


    Carding through his memories, he hadn''t been that close to Roy in the other timeline. The guy had gotten distracted at his lady friend''s house and hadn''t made it to the party, even. After that event, things had went sideways really quick and people had kept their distance once Orison had tasted a small run in the Irregulars. Gan had used his connection with Captain Rogers to get them to Plague Barrens but once they managed to reach their destination there, things went from ''not great'' to absolutely nightmarish.


    Orison said, "It''s not that simple. Yes, I can use you because the slot I thought Adena would be using is now sitting empty and her abilities could be replaced fairly efficiently with some portable engineering equipment but I need trust. I have a lot of secrets. My mentor knows most of them. So, it''s not as if I''m keeping dangerous ones from Avalon or something but, still."


    Roy grew thoughtful for a moment and said, "Things that make something like an NDA pointless."


    The young mage nodded and said, "On top of that, this is high risk. Who knows how long we''ll run before you''ll be looking for a new job or a square slot in a memorial somewhere. Do you have anyone who depends on you for support?"


    A little depressed, Roy said, "Nope. I took this job to keep mom alive a few more years but she passed away about eight months ago. I pretty much sold life as fast as it was legally allowed but even the cheapest extension medicine was enough to make... I honestly don''t know why I tried so hard some days. Every time I got one for her, she seemed to die a little faster. I think she wanted to so I would stop."


    Orison nodded again. "And you would have been pushed to take in a kid if you didn''t have one yourself. That kid would see you fading way before your time and might be tempted to do the same. One of many ugly patterns I see popping up when I allow myself to.


    "I have a trial by fire coming up on Tuesday. It''s going to be in the Plague Barrens. If you feel like a little excitement before a potentially quick end is worth it to hang with us, then I''ll see you on Monday to draw up a two year contract."


    Roy was reaching for a long zipper on his uniform when he paused as the destination sunk in. To his credit, it was only for a moment before he removed a contract from behind a shrapnel plate.


    He chuckled at Orison''s look and said, "I don''t know if that''s for the preparedness I bring or the little trick that just about every Planar Response person knows to keep important documents from getting messed up while on duty."


    Skimming through the contract, the young mage didn''t see anything of note. The terms were actually a little too good in his favor considering how much of a limb Roy was going out on but there wasn''t much reason to doubt sincerity.


    When he asked about the too tilted contract, Roy answered, "People say you can''t put a price on life but that''s a damn lie. For an equipment specialist, it''s plain as day for the first few years, at least. Sell for a 100k buy for a mil.


    "The way I see it, you gave me around ten and bought two more on top. The contract''s a CYA, um, cover your assets. You''ve got six years worth of equipment use and two years of my time to spend them.


    "All I''m really asking is for you to be responsible for the equipment itself and my magic channels if they''re damaged from overdraft. If you hit a jackpot, I''m not going to complain if I don''t actually get ten percent but I hope you''ll cut me decent for hazard."


    Orison agreed, He put the paper copy in his ring and signed the e-copy on Roy''s wrist holo-screen. Afterwards, he took the specialist to the training room and had the Rogers brothers leave to give them privacy.


    "This isn''t something I''m supposed to ask you but if you trust me, I want to know your lineages. Not because I''m nosy but to see if I have anything that can help you. I know how far on a limb you''re going just to ''give back''. Your motivations are your own. I don''t expect you to be a saint but I expect you to keep my secrets in turn. That''s the real contract and it''s only enforced with personal integrity," Orison laid out.


    Roy blanched but didn''t refuse. " Fleur family gargoyle scandal, four generations removed. D-class Rogers great grandmother... Tennessee d-devil dog, f-four generations removed."


    Shame and embarrassment rolled off him in waves after proclaiming the last.


    Once Orison had set up a magic circle in the alchemy lab, a crumpled aluminum sheet and some matching aluminum ''jewelry'' to cover the wrist and ear implants Roy had, Orison said, "I need you to close your eyes while I pull some things out. I need to see which reagents I have that you have a natural reaction too. Shy of ridiculously expensive tests, it''s a pretty decent way to tell what lineage is dominant and what reagents will have best effect."


    A few minutes later, Rio opened his eyes while the young mage said as he was taking things back down. "I can''t do anything for you here but you''re going to be in for a real treat in the near future."


    Rushing back to the house, the young mage started hollering for Rio with no answer. Confused, Gan blurted out that he thought the teen was at Daphne''s while Garret asked who Rio was. Orison''s excitement dimmed by half.


    With a slightly sad smile, he muttered, "So, you''re already gone."

 181 Country of Champions 32

    "I don''t get it. Rio''s gone? Where did he go to?" Gan said.


    Orison shook his head and led the scout away from the others. "His older brother came to fetch him. That guy and Mr Rothschild, another person you don''t know, call on supernatural forces we don''t want to tangle with. No one''s going to remember that Rio was here.


    "The reason why you can is because of your field that acts as a cushion against any particular reality''s special laws or unnatural manipulations of greater reality laws. I can because I''m second-hand connected to him as well as my memories of him existing outside the bounds of this one reality. Don''t bring him up in front of the others anymore. It would be kind of like the audio version of what the impossible geometry thing does to your mind through visuals."


    The young mage thought to himself, "Should have kept your relationship with Daphne pure, little man. At least I won''t waste resources I can''t afford and avoid stress I can live without trying to find out what happened to you. It''s funny how I kind of accidentally laid out what would happen if you pursued ''fun'' over education and training but you got busted by your big brother instead of Avalon when your temporary lapse of good judgment almost turned into a permanent issue."


    Suddenly sparks of intuition started firing off like fireworks letting him know things had changed in big ways. Esme no longer had his over robe. There were no messages from Trisha or Daphne in his touchscreen aside from a thank you from both of them for discovering her ''redacted'' issue.


    It took a little time to figure out other changes but from Garret''s perspective, they had still met at the water park but it was because of standard tickets that had filtered out to him through Turner. That was just the tip of the iceberg for the teen. A lot of other details had changed in weird ways.


    Orison was the guardian for both Garret and Babs. The girl had been living with them for almost the same amount of time. According to the merit expenditure timeline on his touchscreen, he had redeemed Janet from Irregulars intake the same day that she had been entered. She had stayed at Maria''s for the two days prior to the party.


    The strangest change had to be with Adena. The young mage was mentally kissing Aurora''s feet because the woman hadn''t been affected and was overturning a molestation charge that Adena''s father was leveling at a non-existent Gravat. That would have hurt Janet''s personal affairs tremendously as Adena''s ''son'' was the eldest. As it was, the young lady in question had Gravat''s memories but had grossly misinterpreted the party event as she had no personal context of Orison.


    It was a cascade of strange that happened because a single thread of a person''s around a month of interaction with a world had been erased. It made him wonder how much of his misfortune in the other timeline could be linked to Rio''s disappearance. The young mage had no idea and was even more confused by the fact that the only physical change to the world was the return of his over robe.


    Pulling the over robe out, a letter fell to the floor once it was unfolded. " Dear, Godfather... I hope you don''t mind me calling you that since Dad''s been having me call you that since I can remember. I won''t bore you with a whole bunch of details about family issues and life because we likely won''t meet again. I only want you to know that Rio may not be our family by blood but we do care very much about him.


    "Since this is my second time picking him up and I don''t want to make it a third, I''ve taken some time to make sure his disappearance and the disappearance of your angel friends won''t cause backlash. When readjusting Esme''s impression of events, I took the liberty of picking up the item that Rio recognized as yours. She was doing some fairly stimulating things with it. I''d suggest that you don''t lend it to her again because the material it''s made of, calls to her. Reference possible selkie or celestial maiden (ref Tennin: celestial maiden''s raiment)?


    "Thank you for all that you''ve done for my family. Were it not meant for you, I would have offered to bring you with us. Be well and safe travels."


    The young mage thought with a relieved look, "I''m glad you didn''t offer. I would have fought for my life not to go. Whatever blasted splay of greater reality accepts the traveling of a fledgling old one and their chosen mortal kin would not have a very fun path to walk, I think."


    Garret and Babs approached him and the young girl took lead. "Mom says she''s settled in and wanted me to ask if she could have me come stay with her there. Reading between the lines, I don''t think she believes me being in a house full of male teenagers and men is a good place for me to be. It''s bull but the last thing I want is for mom to throw another temper tantrum hysterical fit over something dumb."


    He asked if she wanted to go and she thought it was for the best, ''to keep Janet in line''.


    She added, "You''ll be doing that trial by fire thing anyway. Staying at Maria''s is fun but I''m kind of curious about the new house anyway. Did you know it''s paid up for twenty years and has free water park access!? That''s crazy!"


    Garret laughed and said, "The truth is revealed!"


    Babs shot him an annoyed look before motioning for Orison to bend down some and whispered, "I''ll pretend to be sad if you and brother disappear one day but if you come back without him, I''m going to be sad for real unless you tell me a good story."


    Not wasting time with dramatics and knowing how things would be, she told Orison to get the custody thing ''over with'' and went to pack her things.


    Garret was barely close enough to hear bits and quickly said in his defense, "I didn''t tell her anything. She''s just really good at figuring things out. She once told me that if she hadn''t been green flagged for Core Administration Accelerator, she would have moved to Grandpa Booger''s last year. Not even her teachers knew until months later."


    Still trying to piece together the whole manufactured play that his ''godson'' had constructed, he just went with the flow and hoped for the best. There wasn''t anything the young mage could do about it until all the dust settled anyway for fear of making something worse. To distract himself and keep out of the girl''s and her two brother''s way while she got ready for transport to take her to her new place, Orison finished details with Roy.


    "Sorry for running off but I thought I had a lead on something that I''ll have to wing a different way. I''ve created a team fund and handed you a list of the equipment we''ll most likely need. Does anything look like it''s missing?" Orison asked.


    Roy looked over the prep list and said, "A way to carry all of this. You have a week out from base and the supplies to match but there''s no way we can divide this up for easy travel. Our combustion engines don''t work there. So, maybe a magic wagon or a floating disk rental?"


    Orison shook his head. "I''ll give you the answer to that problem on Monday''s team briefing. If you''re not on the Barren''s morning hours yet, use the weekend to get on them as best you can. No one needs to stagger camp watch this trip."


    Wide eyed, Roy said, "No offense, but that''s cracked. Are you planning on bringing a portable, air-tight bunker!?"


    The young mage just smiled.


    After a brief visit, Roy left, having quite a few things to do that evening and through Friday. The next three days would be fairly busy for the young mage as well. On Friday morning, Orison signed Garret out of school for a small fine and paid another for the Summit instructor that they had been assigned to come out to their place and run him and his team through fighting what threats they may encounter in Plague Barrens.


    Pointing out far too many deficiencies in Garret and Gurrut''s abilities to handle those threats, the young mage shelled out 20k to the instructor to take the brothers, Gan and Stag on a team virtual training exercise over the weekend. When Sergeant Stand wanted to know why the leader wasn''t ''leading by example'', Orison took the the man down to his lab and showed him the pile of projects he was trying to complete by Monday and the Summit trainer laid off. He also left their house 80K poorer on top of refunding his fee.


    When Garret asked what was up with the creepy grin on Sergeant Stand''s face, Orison replied, "He''s thinking about how his wife won''t ever be able to catch him with his special smokes, vapes or edibles anymore among other such mischief. I''m thinking about how he won''t be so damn irritable all the time and paid me to make that happen... Don''t worry. Come Monday, everybody on the team will have something to smile about."


    In the silence and stillness Saturday morning, after his team went for training, the young mage got busy in earnest on his projects. The laser focus he relied on seemed to be on the fritz, however. Stray thoughts would puncture his concentration with bitterness over the Adena situation or irrational agitation over having Trisha and Esme basically unknowingly dumped him.


    A part of him was almost happy about not having the complication to deal with but another part was disappointed. He knew where it came from. He might not want to play the part of some unrealistic, love sick cartoon prince but he didn''t want to turn into a parody of Venito either.


    Then there was Gan. His best friend didn''t feel like much of a friend at all in the past few days but more of a stranger walking eggshells around him and occasionally showing off. There wasn''t much to do about it but let time help them find some new equilibrium.


    The weird vibe in the house was affecting the others too. The subconscious attention seeking on Gan''s part was tickling Stag''s instincts, making him a little on edge. Not because he wanted in on it but because another male in his territory was strutting around in a way Stag''s inner buck was having a hard time ignoring.


    Thankfully, Garret seemed oblivious and such low level friction didn''t even register on Gurrut''s radar as worth noticing. Unfortunately, he did overhear the tail end of a conversation between the two over what they''d do to an imaginary twin sister of Orison. It hadn''t been nice. And with them egging each other to more absurd boasts, it breached the borders of inhumane and felony worthy.


    He responded by having them spar each other and putting the loser in charge of cleaning the bathroom until they left. It hadn''t been the best planned out idea. Garret was stronger and faster but Gurrut was far more aggressive and seasoned. Before it reached levels that his healing magic and a night''s rest couldn''t take care of, Orison stepped in and praised them both, agreeing to take care of the bathroom with a use of Presto every evening. He did make them sincerely apologize to his imaginary twin, feeling like a tool, before he''d heal them up.


    Gurrut was Orc enough that such a happy event wasn''t enough to satisfy the fire in his gut. So, Orison joyfully beat the stuffing out of him. While pretending it had been a complete blow out victory in his favor, he suppressed the hobbling and wheezing until he got to his alchemy lab, healing the fractured rib and torn ligaments in his knee.


    Yet another stray thought that was bouncing around in his head over the weekend of craft work was just how little better he was to his youngest team members in pure physical combat. Once Gurrut had a little more time to adjust to his new limits and Garret had a little more real-world combat experience under his belt, the young mage wouldn''t be able to put them down without magical trickery.


    "What am I getting bent out of shape about? It''s like I''m trying to compare the weakest third of my total ability to the greatest two-thirds of theirs and sad it measures a little short. That''s insane ego," Orison thought.


    By the middle of Sunday, he had bullied his way through all of the main items and only secondary ones were left. Deciding to take a mental rest before hitting the last stretch, he stripped and took a dip in the lake. The trance state he had slipped into was broken by a sudden sound of limbs cutting through water.


    "Is this what you get up to while the rest of your team is slogging away in VR training?" Trisha said as she swam up to where he''d floated with a heel resting on a buoy line.


    Noticing her bold choice to match his nonexistent attire, he smiled and said, "My brain was overheated. Now something in the lower engine room is threatening to overheat. To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise?"


    Pulling the strawberry blond hair out of her face, she said, "I hope you won''t... think badly of me but I''ve had a rough day and I thought maybe..."


    Seeing the somewhat embarrassed smile on her face waver and turn watery, he knew the thing he should have done was swim back to shore and let her talk it out but he was tired of ''doing what was right''. He wanted to be dumb and give her what she thought she wanted, what he suddenly wanted, instead of what he thought she needed. So, he did.


    It took nearly five hours to go from lake to bedroom with stopovers on the dock and in the kitchen. What started out as nearly violent mutual passion, slowly down shifted on her side while he set pace until she was finally barely holding on for dear life. Eventually, she couldn''t hold on anymore and passed out, bringing their exchange to an abrupt end. Orison panicked a little but she was alright, merely overwhelmed.


    He barely managed to clean up and remove the evidence of his happy afternoon of mostly responsible entertainment before his team came in, worn out and ready for relaxation. Despite his best efforts, Stag took notice of subtle lingering traces and it remained that way until after dinner when Trisha finally woke up and attempted to sneak out, getting caught by Gurrut. Busted but with no one heckling her, she took Orison up on the offer of dinner and then another offer of conversation over some iced tea on the back porch.


    It seemed that the Third Triumvir had temporarily demoted Mr Lacquer. To shore up possible losses, both resource wise and political, Esme had made overtures to a son of the Wingright family. Trisha wasn''t ready to fold in and call it quits but she was hurt for getting the silent treatment nearly a week only to find out about the news with everyone else. In the cooling afterglow, she had begun regretting her impulsiveness, just like Orison pretty much knew she would.


    He made it simple for her. "I knew what this was and what it wasn''t. Hate me if it makes it easier for you. Fix things with Esme if you can. If I''m around and you want to... talk, my doors are open."


    She gave him a teary hug and said, "Your the only man who took care of me after... you know. That was really sweet. I''m really not that girl who... I''m not."


    Orison returned the hug and whispered soothingly in her ear, "I know. I''m happy you trusted me, entrusted yourself to me. I won''t betray that even if you never want to see me again."


    She kissed him one last time and ran off to meet her transportation in route, unable to bear his ''kindness and understanding'' any longer.


    Stag walked up to him with a wicked edge to his mildly amused smile. "If you were actually a nice guy, you would have done something she could hate you for. Now the poor girl can only hate herself."


    The young mage said, "Well, I''m not nice and I''m tired of being tied to the whipping post to give others relief, emotional or otherwise."


    "Oh, I''m sure the necklace in her pocket will really show her who she was messing with," Stag said with a mischievous chuckle.


    With a little redness spreading around his ears, Orison pretended he didn''t hear as he walked into the house. Inside, Gan was sitting glumly on the living room couch, staring at his feet while Garret was all but glaring at the young mage. Gurrut sighed and stared at his brother dully.


    He walked over to Gan and pointed at the ruby ring. "Let me tell you a secret. Do you see that, on the edge of the main stone?"


    Right about the time that the scout had the ring turned to him just shy of eye level, Orison punched the palm of his hand. Smashing against the Northlander''s mouth, the edge of the ring managed to cut his lip enough to get a small bit of watery blood on the main gem. Right as Gan was ready to rev up to p*ssed, he felt a connection snap into place with the magic source inside.


    "It needs a little blood to bond to its wearer. Apparently, you needed a little pain to remember what it stands for," the young mage said as he walked over to Garret.

 182 Country of Champions 33

    Drawing himself up, he said to the stout teen, "Don''t speak with your eyes. Speak with your mouth while you still have teeth."


    Garret spluttered and said, "You know what we were doing all weekend. Can''t I be a little ticked off when we caught you having fun!?"


    "You sleep, what, eight or nine hours a day on average and put in ten to twelve? I sleep four and put in eighteen. Do you see me b*tching about that? I''m glad you get your sleep out. I hope you still can after you''ve killed another living, thinking creature a few times," Orison said darkly.


    While that sunk in, he threw two cloth backed insignia that held a small red circle of corral framed on one side by a crescent sliver of onyx and set in gold. He tossed one to Stag as well.


    "Sew it on your uniform in plain sight or your favorite pair of underwear you never change for all I care. The black side is a pocket space and the red side holds a tiny piece of magic source. You can drop blood on the coral to make all the other insignia produce a slight vibration that will grow slightly stronger when they''re facing your direction," the young mage said and answered questions on the finer details, like size and weight limits of the space.


    With stars in his eyes, Garret said, "This is so cool! Who did you commission to do them?"


    Everyone gave Garret a weird look.


    Red faced, he added, "Don''t act like it should be common knowledge, alright? Orison, did you do this yourself?"


    Dully, the young mage nodded, feeling defeated for some reason.


    Garret followed up by asking who he commissioned to make the jewelry, then again for finding the materials.


    "Alright. That''s why you were so busy... I didn''t ask all that to be a smart aleck. I did it to show you that there are people for that. If you want to make a cake, do you do that from scratch or get a box of mix?" Garret said.


    Slightly confused but possibly seeing his point, said, "From scratch. But if I were honest, it''s not that different. Along the same vein of honesty, I think I do it that way because it''s a point of pride and when you get materials at the basic or raw level, they can be used for a whole lot more things. Cheaper too."


    Garret sighed. "That''s neat and all but is it really cheaper? How valuable do you consider your time? Do you place that on the scale?"


    Orison conceded. "I see your point but I have one for you. The more I outsource, the more ''known'' what I have is. Don''t devalue the element of surprise. It could have no value or an immense one. Also, the last I checked, registered magic storage items must be a box, bag, ring or necklace. Unregistered storage items can only be legally used by the creator or given as a gift and the person who possesses one is responsible for any damages caused from one breaking.


    Immediately, as was the nature of people to do, their minds went to a plethora of things it would be nice to bring that wouldn''t fit. Orison wasn''t an exception. It dimmed the reveal some but the young mage was perfectly fine with his rule breaking stuff being undervalued some. Some perverse part of himself had learned to enjoy being undervalued. It had paid off too many times.


    Garret suddenly grinned strangely. "Our team leader is a certified civilian alchemist, holds a master''s degree in Planar Acquisitions AND is an enchanter. When you show them on Monday that you''re a B-class mage, Core Administration is going to go ballistic!"


    Orison shook his head. "I''m not an enchanter in any way that Avalon would recognize as legitimate. I''m not going to go into specifics but I doubt I could pull off more than one, maybe two of the standard set needed to pass the practical. I''m also only a C-class mage technically."


    As Garret looked at him in shock, the young mage ground his teeth in frustration. Due to his concepts being condensed, Beta Prime''s magic system registered as being without ''realness'' which meant his understanding would break the model. In the other timeline, he''d lost his collection of books early in. That meant he hadn''t had the handful of years such a thing should have afforded him to find out what the snag was in learning from the mad mage''s collection.


    He''d learned a couple of journeyman models but they didn''t work and teasing out the knot of failure from them was tedious and dangerous work. Soon enough, he''d have a way to ''invalidate'' test his comprehensions again which would give him clues. The only other option, different legacies, weren''t something available yet.


    The young mage sighed and said, "They won''t look at how my ''little beginner spells'' can outperform sloppy journeyman casts. They won''t look at how they can rip through journeyman spell models like paper mache or overcome a step higher dispel magic. They''ll just see that I can''t cast a journeyman level complex model and label me C-class."


    "So, you''re really just a C-class?" Garret asked until he saw the vein pop out on Orison''s forehead and amended, "On paper, I mean. Everyone saw you go toe to toe with Mr Lacquer."


    The young mage said, "For a lot of reasons, no one will accept that as a real challenge and they''d be right. B-class, the traditional way, isn''t out of reach but I have no real reason to reach for it. I''m not wasting a decade to learn disposable garbage. "Suffice it to say that if my back was up against the wall, as long as I wasn''t taken by surprise, I COULD go toe to toe with a B-class and most likely win. I could drag a group of A-classes to hell with me, possibly. If I could take a single S-class by surprise I might even be able to suicide on it and hurt it enough that survivors could pick it apart, depending on the type of S-class."


    Deflated, Garret said, "Oh... Damn. We were so close to qualifying to be a maverick team."


    Orison smiled and said dramatically, "We have a member with a master''s in acquisitions. If only we had a B-class ability holder, then we''d only have to answer to a fort captain. Such a shame our missions will have to be filtered through a platoon sergeant who can break up our team any time he feels like it... Garret, where do you think you rank?"


    Without even giving it much thought, the teen said, "Broad spectrum C-class."


    "Wrong. You''re a B-class and with a little bit of polish, you should be able to squeak past the line and be categorized as a broad spectrum ''B'', barely. That''s just now. Stick around and wait just a bit longer. You won''t be the only one either," the young mage said with a slightly mysterious air.


    That announcement seemed to make everyone more excited than the badges did by a significant margin. Everyone but Stag, it seemed. Orison didn''t think much of it. He had the impression that the green haired man could watch inescapable death approaching with little more than a mild interest in how long it would take.


    "All of this would have been covered tomorrow with Roy present but there it is. I''m going back to work. Enjoy your evening," Orison popped off with mannerly sarcasm and walked back to the alchemy lab in the bunker.


    Deep into the night, he worked on fine tuning and adjusting his work until he felt like he''d gotten it just right. The extra work added by Roy''s late inclusion wasn''t a big deal. He only needed to readjust sizes and change a few minor details. After looking over his last piece, he felt satisfied and went to get a little more trance time in that had been interrupted by Trisha earlier.


    Stag woke up from the nap he had been taking in front of the TV when the young mage walked in. "I didn''t want to interfere with your preparations but I hope you''re ready to catch a few light naps between your to-do list tomorrow. There''s something I think I can help you with but it''s going to take a little time."


    The young mage responded, "Alright, just let me check my messages real quick."


    While he read the message that came at around two in the morning, Stag said, "It''s kind of why I''m here. Everyone in the house got one. Yours has more detail, I''m sure, but it was to notify us about the delay in briefing time because of your B-class privilege defense test."


    The young mage grew visibly upset at the contents that basically boiled down to Jacques stating that the test was still necessary. The man had enough basic decency to apologize but he needed to know whether or not Orison actually trained with him in an alternate future and the test was only a formality to prove it.


    Seeing Orison go pale, Stag said, "I can guess the contents. You set things up with some kind of knowledge of the future... There was a little too much certainty and confidence in your actions which doesn''t really match your normal pace.


    "I can''t claim to know you well but you''re not carefree and you''re not a naturally confident person. No offense but you''re a plotter and a schemer. I respect that and I''m not going to start throwing stones in a glass house... That''s not important at the moment anyway.


    "I know the reason you can''t cast journeyman spells. I can''t tell you the reason because everyone who knows is under the same... inability. I can''t even tell you the reasons why I COULD tell you that much."


    Stag stopped talking and handed him a piece of paper. Motioning for Orison to ''keep his eyes on it'', the green haired man set the paper on fire. For the instant that it was visible before it burnt up, browning lemon juice revealed that Stag knew what the consequences would be if the young mage couldn''t show a certain magical trace in his spells.


    It took a while to figure out a good way to do it. First try, a kinetic discharge knocked the young mage on his butt. Using a wall as a brace just made Orison feel like he was hit in the chest by a battering ram while Stag''s head would rock back like someone socked him. Eventually, Orison sat at the edge of the slightly raised meditation platform while Stag sat on the floor.


    As the young mage held Stag''s head to his chest tightly to absorb recoil, the green haired man fired bullets of concentrated spirit essence through the swirling wall of devouring intent that coated the edges of Orison''s space. Once cleared, the feeble remnants would dissipate, leaving a small cluster of spiritual blood. That, in turn, had to be lead by Orison to his spirit ring.


    The first time, he watched it closely. Stag hadn''t earned enough trust from him to simply allow such a thing to happen without a fail safe in place to stop anything shady from happening. It proved unfounded. What Stag told him would happen was pretty much what did.


    His own spiritual bloodlines would convert most of it into their own, allowing the white hole to expel what wasn''t usable. A single mote or two per shot would be attracted to a part of his ''potential''. Aside from one of his three little guys or gals ''to be'' liking it, the remaining rejected motes would be shot back out. Those unwanted motes were absorbed and divested of any energy by the waiting inert essence woven into the background of Orison''s space.


    Engrossed in observation, the young mage had almost missed a short moment in the middle of the essence transfer where Stag shivered a little and a single slightly ticklish track of wetness trailed down where the green haired man''s head was resting. Unsure if it hurt or something else was going on in Stag''s mind, the young mage didn''t want to make it worse by drawing attention to the fact he was aware it happened.


    Just as Stag had said, Orison knew the exact moment when he ''had enough''. A hazy film he''d been unaware of, suddenly broke apart and cascaded down. It was like part of the world had been hidden away and he could now ''see'' it. The air wasn''t dead but actually had a thin, uniform layer of magic essence.


    He understood. Everyone on the planet was born with that layer applied over them like a birth caul. It had to be weakened before it would break and there was probably more than one way to do it but the way Stag had demonstrated was taking in the most important and fundamental essence a supernatural being possessed, their spiritual blood.


    Considering how many motes of ''spiritual blood'' he''d taken in, Orison wondered how many had dissolved on that veil to be claimed by the world. For a moment, he was stunned by how great a sacrifice Stag had just made with little more to show than the ability to cast some higher level magic. If it hadn''t been for the dire consequences of LeStrange finding out that Orison had lied to him about the training, it wouldn''t have been worth it at all.


    A half second of hesitation later, he said, "Alright. It''s your turn."


    Stag threw up his hands in a tired motion and said, "Assuming you had it to spare, it would still be a waste. I didn''t come into this world the way you did. I need a great deal more. A GREAT DEAL more.


    "Besides, there''s only so much that''s useful to me for the next ''step'' of my journey. Anything I shed will only help that Firebrand brat out. I''m not that generous. If I could, I''d make him earn what the world wants from me, much less the piddling amount natives need to earn."


    Surprised, Orison said, "Despite everything, he''s still connected to you?"


    Stag shook his head. "No, but he does have a spiritual claim on anything I leave behind. Would you believe that if I stayed in this world long enough, lived long enough, there would be a day he''d instinctively seek to hunt me down and kill me? I believe the chances are better than unlikely and only slightly worse than certain."


    The young mage mulled on it and finally said, "I don''t know exactly how long it would take for me to get there but I WILL be going there in the future. Very soon, a group is going to be headed out for another ''destination''. You could go with them and wait for me there."


    "Would going there make me have to cross the ''Big Territory'' line?" Stag asked.


    The young mage nodded, causing Stag to add, "Then I don''t want to go for the same reasons you probably don''t want to. It''s a lot harder to do what needs to get done over on that side."


    Orison smirked and said, "Well then, it looks like you''re stuck with me."


    Stag gave a weary smile and said, "Have been since you pulled me from my miserable prison of a life."


    Growing more solemn for a moment before returning to his normal ''sharing a secret joke with the world'' expression, he added, "If... If I die, don''t try to resurrect me or hold my soul from moving on in any way. Let it be... That said, I''d like a few more days of fun and adventure. So, don''t go thinking I''ve gone suicidal or something."


    Orison patted Stag''s shoulder and collected the fruits of his night''s labor from the alchemist workbench before guiding the tired Nunos descendant back to his room. A couple hours later, the rest of the house woke up. Hanging on the doorknob of their room was a magically modified uniform on a hanger.


    Less than an hour after that, there was a knock at the young mage''s door. When he opened it, the slightly concerned face of Garret greeted him.


    "Can I help you?" Orison said in a slightly cranky voice.


    The sturdy teen said, "There''s people setting up equipment on the front lawn and we''ve been asked to not leave the house."


    Checking The Weird and his touchscreen, Orison noticed that there was a set of instructions about how and where the test was going to be administered.


    Walking out to the front porch, he said, "Is it really necessary to set ALL the equipment up when only one sensor device reading is what my mentor cares about?"


    One of the three equipment specialists approaching him said, "You''re not supposed to leave the house until we''re done setting up."


    He responded, "Unless someone who has decision making powers shows up to give me some courtesy, there will be no house because I''ll take it and the property attached to it somewhere else and be SOMEONE else''s asset."


    A smirking Juniper dismissed the equipment specialists back to their work and said, "You expect us to believe you have that kind of power?"


    He sighed. "How do they think I do the thing they''re afraid I''ll do when I''m threatened?... It doesn''t matter. I''m doing the test. I''m just p*ssed at how high handed you guys are being about it. Sweeten the deal or I hold a grudge."

 183 Country of Champions 34

    Juniper blinked a few times and said, "Aurora acknowledges the truth of your anger and has authorized me to pre-approve you team''s maverick status after you pass your trial by fire. First, you need to pass this trial by fire."


    Orison replied, "I acknowledge the truth of Aurora''s consideration."


    With the justification of this last insult that was undeniable in the eyes of Avalon''s citizen''s, he had the excuse to do what he should have done when he had the chance the first time this test had been brought up. He filed for a dissolving of Jacques mentorship. He didn''t want to but being too close to the Triumvirate had caused this whole current mess to begin with.


    While the testing equipment was in it''s final stage of assembly, LeStrange''s bleary and tired voice voice cut into Orison''s mind through The Weird on a secure line. "What''s with the theatrics? You know why I''m doing this. I suppose saying you SHOULD know why I''m doing this."


    Orison replied with affected anger to cover his nervousness, "You never took me to Shambhala. I said I completed your training, not the training that Dr Odd gave you... I completed the ''field version''."


    With a bit of mockery in his tone, "Oh? What equipment was used for this supposed field version?"


    "What kind of holiday do you think I was on? You took care of the Third Triumvir''s adjunct? Then our business on that alternate future is taken care of. The first domino was plucked before it could topple. As for your concerns about my claims, they''ll be laid to rest after this test is done. Our business as Triumvir and citizen, as mentor and student, will be done with it," the young mage said.


    Jacques laughed menacingly. "You talk so well that it''s only in moments like these that you show your lack of maturity and experience. You have no idea how much inconvenience and suffering you have avoided due to our efforts. Perhaps that was a mistake because it seems you take it for granted.


    "Let me shine light on a fact you might not have realized. Whatever relationship we might have had in that alternate future, hasn''t happened here. Less than a month ago, you were a stranger to me," Jacques said, finally sounding fully awake and cranky.


    In his heart of hearts, Orison knew there were legitimate concerns LeStrange faced as a Triumvir that he brought up as a provisional citizen with potential sensitive knowledge of future events. But it rang a bit hollow when the man switched mentor and leader hats at awfully convenient moments. It made the young mage feel used.


    He had been broken, watched helplessly as everyone with a bit of kindness towards him burned it out and then the dark things he had done to avert it all. His hands had been stained with blood and some of that blood was innocent. He had no plans on justifying himself but there was no need to beat himself up over things he wouldn''t have to do, either.


    The memory of the moment when he took the time manipulation artifact from the dying Dr Odd''s withered hands was a low point. He could remember the old man laughing at him when he took it, telling him that those who had never been to Shambhala would never be able to grasp its power. He also remembered the look of despair on the old man''s face when he fed it to Gan''s conduit to fuel his own return, coincidentally saving Dr Odd''s life as the old man was snatched up by an entity from Alpha Minoris.


    The only saving grace was that communication between Alpha Minoris and Beta Prime could only be accomplished by a very different Triumvirate. Supernatural beings who, thankfully, were keeping their own council. If that dark time were to be known by anyone in the present, Orison would be in the Irregulars, a fugitive or dead. Despite that, he couldn''t contain his anger towards Jacques.


    "A stranger!? Well, I hope you had fun throwing back all the special goodies that your Patron gave to ME, stranger! Let me ''shed some light'' on something that hadn''t occurred to you. I lived nearly powerless through hell on earth for over three years and kept everyone from having to experience THAT. My reward, nearly incurring a debt... from YOU!


    "If you want some evidence to chew on, how about that I was the one to return, not you. You were the one who received the training and preparations to handle that, not me. Who holds the artifact now? Who''s beating me over the head with that power now?


    "Think of how Dr Odd treated me and how you are handling the olive branches I''ve extended to you. You think that I''m taking things for granted!? What the hell do you think you''re doing? T


    "The impressions, gratitude and respect for the Jacques I know from that future motivated my generosity to you but all this one has done is humiliate and mock me. So, Jacques the mentor, f*** you. Jacques the Triumvir, I respectfully desire to deal with another Triumvir in the future when it''s necessary because I don''t trust a leader who abuses and takes advantage of his subordinates. Thank you."


    LeStrange raged, "You over privileged brat! Welcome to a typical Wednesday I can look forward to for the rest of my life! Stuff your three years. How can that even compare!?"


    Orison was speechless. All the things that he had experienced had been downgraded to a p*ssing contest. He suddenly felt calm. There wasn''t a single shred of anger, just sadness and disappointment.


    "You''re right, Triumvir. It seems I had unrealistic expectations. Is there any other business you have left to discuss with me, sir?" he said with an absolutely neutral voice.


    The man let out a belly full of fire only to get a polite agreement. By the time that Jacques finally realized that he wasn''t dealing with a tactic but how Orison planned to respond to anything he had to say indefinitely, they were past the point where apologies or concessions could easily wipe away the damage. Worn out from punching cotton, the Triumvir ended the communication.


    For the time it would take til the finer instruments were calibrated, the young mage meditated and entered a light trance. When they were ready, he made a farce of the whole proceeding by choosing to do a combat and utility defense of privilege at the same time. Within three seconds of the opening virtual challenges thrown his way, Orison cast a specialized version of Dispel called Lesser Disjunction that wiped all virtual projections and hit the small handful of purely technological based equipment like a low power electromagnetic pulse.


    To finish off, he mended the piece of equipment that broke and relieved Juniper of discomfort from a lady issue with an effect that would last for a couple of days. It was the most lackluster and least showy defense of privilege they had ever encountered. And though it bare made the mark, it had undeniably been the quickest and most effortless one they had attended as well.


    While the equipment specialists packed up, Orison exchanged the spell model. He explained that his purpose in learning it was to be reversed for creating enchanted items capable of cycling spent magic. He told them about Trisha''s necklace gift and how he hadn''t coded the enchantment. With some study, he had no doubts that such an item would become the best friend of equipment specialists and a superior option to surgically transitioning low reserve wizards into arcanists with weak and easily damaged magic channels.


    What he didn''t share was that without the model for Curse Breaker and intimate understanding of inert essence, the necklace he made for Trisha would set the golden standard and their best efforts wouldn''t compare to a quarter efficiency of what he could produce but it was still enough to save a lot of people from making painful choices. It would also ease some of the burden equipment specialists faced when using life eating equipment that was inefficient or malfunctioning.


    Halfway through the delayed Summit instructor briefing on what to expect in Plague Barrens and what would constitute a successful trial, Orison received a notification. He would receive the merits for the spell model exchange but credit for the discovery of the nearly life changing magic item would go to the master enchanter who made the first one. Having knowledge of the future, he was under suspicion of stealing someone else''s achievement.


    Not bothering to respond to LeStrange''s secretary, he sent a message to Juniper that he didn''t care about receiving credit but the spell was from his own legacy. He dared anyone to find a spell that could reveal the secret of recycling magic by showing how it could be pulled apart, capable of being cast at a Journeyman level. He finished the message by saying his generosity to Avalon wasn''t infinite and this was the second time he had done something for the betterment of all only to be spit on.


    "Cantrip, are my words boring you?" the instructor said with a vein sticking out on his head.


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "Of course not, instructor. I was just informed that an award winning innovation I made was going to be stolen and given to a random master enchanter, gift wrapped. I could have been set from that alone but since I''m destined to continue being a cog in the wheel, I don''t dare to find your words boring."


    After using his authority to check Orison''s messages only to find that nearly all of them suffered from one form of redaction or another, he said, "You need a few minutes to cool off your head?"


    Weariness bleeding through to his face, Orison said, "I appreciate it but no."


    The craggy face of the instructor bent into a scowl that was likely the closest thing to sympathy he was capable of producing and said, "I don''t know whose boxers you bunched up but I''d suggest you find your favorite stick of lip balm and apply it to their *ss one set of kiss marks at a time until it''s liberally coated."


    Continuing to smile, Orison said, "Let them keep applying boot marks to mine. They''re going to be really surprised when they find out it''s their own pants seat they''ve been dirtying and bruising up. What a fun day that will be."


    "Suit yourself," the man said before returning to his briefing.


    Once that was done, Orison handed Roy his uniform with patch already applied and told him about its functions.


    After he was done excitedly playing with his new toy, Roy said, "I don''t know what''s going on, but the rumor mill in Planar Response is that your trial isn''t going to be messed with and your status as a Maverick team leader is all but certain. The problem is, your acquisitions are going to be chopped and screwed to death,"


    "At this point, I''m counting on it... That''s not what you signed up for, though. It''s not too late to back out," Orison told him.


    "Come hell or high water, you''ve got me for two years as long as you want me, Boss," Roy said.


    "Last call, Garret. Just a little effort and you''re a Rogers main family pick-up. You don''t have to stick it out through whatever frustration storm that''s coming," the young mage directed at the sturdy teen.


    "I''m good," Garret said simply.


    Orison nodded thoughtfully for a moment and then said, "It''s relatively early in the afternoon. You all have 100K assigned to your accounts. Go handle your personal business. Just try to keep it to a level where you''ll still be ready to go by nine tomorrow."


    The brothers couldn''t get out the door fast enough. Stag grabbed Roy before the man could take off as well and conned him into showing the green haired man around.


    Orison turned to Gan, the scout said, "What were you planning?"


    The young mage answered, "I need to stretch out and train some. After that, I think I''ll do a nice, long, deep trance so I''m fresh for tomorrow."


    "It seems to me that someone on this team should be aware of what the leader is capable of. How about you show me how far you''ve gotten on that tree swinging cannibal elf training," Gan said with a familiar grin Orison hadn''t seen in quite some time.


    Until early evening, it was like old times. There was no weirdness or stress inducing moments, just the reliable scout that had been with him since the beginning. Gan even pretended to be a bit worse than he was so Orison could get a few clean weapon touches in. Then, the scout owned him in every way possible combat wise.


    The young mage was so shocked, he was almost horrified. Even with magic augmentation, he could barely hold his own. Considering it wasn''t something he could waste in warm up training the day before mission start, he only did some quick comparison before being owned some more. From there, it quickly escalated into disarming pins until Orison found himself face down and about as aware of an uncomfortable issue as he could be.


    Not quite ready to let him up, Gan let his feelings be known in a way that didn''t require words and spoke his thoughts. "Before you get fed up and put me in my place, hear me out. Even if I was ready, you aren''t. I can''t put you back into that old box because you''re not a courageous child I want to protect. You are someone I want to make mine and protect.


    "I don''t want you to put me back into the old box you have for me because I don''t want to be your funny sidekick. You can feel what I want. This little arrangement you made isn''t going to work, no matter how much we want it to. Neither one of us are that good at pretending."


    Gan let him up and added. "I think I''m going to go with Gurrut and his people. I''ll understand if you don''t want to share anything with me from the place we''re going... I need to go home.


    "By the time you make it there, maybe things will have changed. Maybe I''ll be dead and it won''t matter anymore. But if you do make it there and I''m still alive, don''t hug me and call me Gan. Don''t tell me it''s good to see me again or try to invite me on another long road. Don''t do any of that unless YOU are ready to exchange rings... That is, unless you want it back."


    The last part was said with so much fear and uncertainty that it hurt Orison''s heart. It was true. Regardless of what might be possible in the future, accepting Gan wasn''t something he could do then and there. Maybe in the future that could change. Maybe one of them would die and it wouldn''t matter anymore.


    Whether it was from some unwillingness to lose, a hope that it would be possible someday or a sick desire to keep some part of Gan on the hook forever, Orison said, "I told you that I''d never stop you from walking away if that''s what you wanted. I owe you too much... I told you it would hurt like hell and it''s going to. Don''t you dare take off that ring in this lifetime or I will personally drag you back from whatever hell will have you and..."


    He couldn''t finish what he was going to say and refused to see Gan waver or break his resolve out of pity. To get through it, he shut off his emotions entirely.


    With a mask of a face, he said, "We''ll keep our agreements and you''ll take what I give you from that place or you''ll insult me in a way I can''t forgive. In case things get too hectic, good travels, Gan. The next time we meet on the long road, I hope we can travel together again. The hole you''ll leave behind won''t be able to be filled with anyone else."


    Seeing the lewd smile stretching across Gan''s face despite himself, the young mage added, "Don''t ruin my memory of our talk on the tower with an inappropriate joke."


    Woodenly, Orison walked away, back to his room where he shut the door. He turned on the shower and turned off the emotional freeze, letting all of the things that would get in the way of their mission out and away with the water, down the drain. He would have kept the promises he made but he wouldn''t promise what he couldn''t give. He couldn''t give it yet. Maybe not ever. but climbers could live a long time and strange things where part of the long road.

 184 Country of Champions 35

    The next morning, up before everyone, the young mage made a big breakfast. He hadn''t made one in awhile and he liked to pop out a happy surprise, especially when he was feeling low himself. Still, happy surprises needed to be doled out sparingly to retain their power. As long as he could see a genuine smile on someone''s face, he felt like maybe he could reflect a little of that in his own until it was real enough to stand on its own.


    Roy and Stag came walking in still slightly hung over, smelling of women''s perfume, alcohol and deeper, muskier scents. Gritting his teeth to keep from ruining the morning pace mood he was trying to set, Orison hit them both with a healing and a presto before throwing down a large plate in front of both of them. It was gratifying that they had the appetite to clear out the daunting culinary mountain in front of them, however.


    When Garret and Gurrut came down to the kitchen sharing wide grins filled with secrets, Orison didn''t pry. The brothers might not ever see each other again and if they wanted to bend or even break a few house rules, as long as there wasn''t any lingering consequences, he was glad they had those shared memories. Remembering his own with Venito, side by side watching the sun rise, was one of his most cherished and allowed the ghost of a smile to flit across his own face for a time.


    Once Gan had made his way down, Orison managed to hold ease of expression well enough to fool everybody but Stag. The same couldn''t be said for Gan but everyone thought that the Northlander had just cut loose a little too hard like Stag and Roy had. The Nunos man had the tact to keep said observations to himself.


    The rest of the day world side became a numb blur. Paperwork, procedures and Roy''s checks of the equipment rentals took up most of it. Julia Bisk, the center of their escort mission, came with her own series of issues to deal with.


    "So, this will be my home for the next week?" she said, looking over the ''Gerbil Ball'' after Roy''s breakdown of it''s functions.


    The equipment specialist said, "Finest piece of gyroscope tech ever produced by Avalon. It won''t be as bad as you imagine. The 360 platform has a bit of treadmill jerkiness but you''ll get used to it pretty quick. Orison even dug deep in his pockets to get the upgrade model.


    "Start feeling stir crazy when we''re stopped somewhere? Turn on the VR device. Use it for privacy any time you like too. You can see out but we can''t see in.


    "It''s got a smart chip that will cart you back along the safest rout possible if there''s any concerns. Low water, food or power will trigger it. And if you get sick... Let me say goodbye in advance because you''ll be back at camp long before we will."


    Julia looked at Orison and said, "Why can''t I just do what the others did? Couldn''t I have reported my findings and then all of this wouldn''t be necessary."


    Julia had lots of questions but seeing how she was enjoying Roy''s self depreciating humor he seemed to reserve for women and therefor directing most of her attention and curiosity his way, Orison left him to it. It wasn''t the only thing he was leaving in the hands of others. Once they stepped through the rip stabilizer into the Plague Barrens, the entire operation went into a kind of auto-pilot from the young mage''s perspective.


    Gan was handling the things that needed handling with Captain Rogers. Roy was handling the operations info and prep checks. That only left the meet and greet with the proctor to Orison.


    Upon being introduced by the Summit instructor who would have been the proctor to the Core Administration replacement, the rest of the young mage''s frailly built positive mood shattered. Greeting him with a slightly predatory grin was Mr Firebrand. Being that the man was offering a handshake, he took it but was on guard for a foul play that didn''t happen.


    "Don''t be so defensive. After checking my daughter and grandson through every medical device possible, everything was as you said and we finally cleared up all the misunderstandings," Mr Firebrand said with the ugliest grin Orison had ever seen.


    He thought, "Am I speaking to a person or a villain from a straight to video supernatural thriller?"


    Orison shrugged and said, "Then it''s a pleasure to be working under your observation, Mr Firebrand."


    "The pleasure''s all mine, Young Mr Cantrip," the man said as a light case of goosebumps broke out on the young mage.


    Internally, he checked to make sure instincts weren''t sending warnings. There was no possible prediction the young mage could make that had him and Adena''s father in the same place for more than a few minutes without drama, pain or collateral damage. Contrary to expectations, the man was making things easier for his team by cutting through unnecessary red tape and secondary briefings to insure no vital information was forgotten.


    With their planar intake day streamlined to maximum efficiency and minimum waiting, they had a good portion of evening to burn before the last night of freedom from air filtration devices and around the clock suit wear, Gerbil Ball in Julia''s case. With that knowledge in mind, the woman was having as much fun and freedom as she could.


    Due to the hungry, wolf-like eyes of the stationed personnel, she had Roy glued to her side. He certainly wasn''t complaining and the several dozen jealous death glares he was getting were getting treated like air. Luckily, Captain Rogers ran a good fort or some horrible ''accident'' may have befallen the happily oblivious equipment specialist. There were plenty of ''gentlemen'' who would have loved to take his place.


    The brothers, Stag and Orison were meanwhile enjoying some of the slightly corrupted side of long duty station entertainment. In the middle of a poker hand, with five anxiety herbal supplements rolled in rice paper and a bottle of middle shelf whiskey on the line, the young mage was forced to fold. He had been called to the Captain''s office. And like some adult parody of High School, the surrounding Rowdies ''Scarecrows'' they were hanging out with let out a series of ''someone''s in trouble'' oohs.


    Before he left, Orison addressed the collection of grunts and said, "If Garret manages to win anything, which I doubt, someone lock box it for him. It''s either going to stay there for four months or he can exchange to the holder for merits."


    He ignored Gurrut''s whispered promise to share winnings. Trying to hold back an urge to chuckle, the young mage left to a series of ''oohs'' directed at Garret while he thought it''d be a cold day in the barrens before Gurrut would be able to win anything at that table. Neither one of the brothers had caught on to the game that was going on underneath it. Without Stag''s card passes, even he would have only been fleeced.


    As he walked to the Captain''s office, the trickling merge of shadows that never really stopped was joined by a slightly stronger one. Due to the site where he predicted that particular time reversal occurred, there had been a slight delay before it had caught up with him. He resisted the urge to allow a gloating smile to spread across his face.


    Wrapped in a bath robe, the Captain was battling not to show the irritation he was no doubt feeling. He couldn''t afford to with a Triumvir on the other side of the line. Looking weak and almost sickly, LeStrange locked eyes with the young mage over the monitor''s camera.


    "You win. I cannot believe you had a trick like that up your sleeve or that you would dare to use it. I wanted to throw you into the bottom of Second Heaven but Aurora talked me out of it. After some reflection, I recognize the hypocrisy you spoke about.


    "It took getting slapped in my face by it and a talking to from a more seasoned Triumvir but you win. Your original proctor will take you out on the field. I''ve also gotten my secretary''s assistant to look through the database for possible sources of inspiration for your enchantment method. Assuming nothing''s found, I''ll make sure you get just reward.


    "In my zealousness to fill my mentor''s shoes, I failed to be a good one for you. This whole episode has rocked my confidence to hold this office or even BE a mentor. You tell me, since you knew that other me, can I? Will I get there?"


    Seeing the proud man nearly broken by the humble pie Orison was ready to serve him in two weeks, his hard heart softened a little and said, "You just have to hold the fort for three years or so. Think of it as a test run with a safety net. Dr Odd isn''t dead, man. I told you."


    As a look of grateful relief drifted across the Frenchman''s face, Orison added, "In the biometric locked cabinet in the kitchen are a couple of bottles of something to pick you up. I can''t believe you jumped at least a whole two weeks back on your first ''back from the future'' run. That artifact isn''t nice to its holders. What did you lose, like two or three years?"


    Jacques said, "I don''t really know. I would ask Roy but you recruited him away... Do me a favor will you? Give Firebrand a wide birthing..."


    LeStrange''s secretary whispered something to him in the back ground and the man said with an agitated face, "Your original instructor will take you INTO the field and give Adena''s father a wide BERTH... Ugh, f***ing English. Why couldn''t Avalon make Spanish or better yet, French the common language. That would have made more sense... I don''t care where the League was founded, Madam Secretary! French is the language of beauty and nobility. Barring that, Spanish is easier for people to learn!


    "ANYWAY... Stay out of his way until he''s gone. It was my fault for getting all this started but I don''t want to give you just cause to murder him and get away with it. Believe it or not, he''s done a lot of good and is a true son of Avalon. However you think of him, his accomplishments speak for themselves and the country you call home IS first and foremost, a Meritocracy."


    Orison snorted. "His dead wife''s medical records prior to the ''voluntary'' gene ''therapy'' speak for themselves but that''s an argument for another day. If the merit reward for the enchanted item innovation are found in my favor, use them to set up resource independence for Adena, Madam Secretary."


    After briefly getting permission from Jacques, ''Four of Seven'' in strict professional lady mode took over the communication, freeing the Triumvir to pursue a raid on Orison''s locked kitchen cabinet.


    "Mr Cantrip, it has been my experience that a young lady in Ms Firebrand''s situation can''t completely escape from the control of her biological guardian. She is too young for independence and there are far too many legal stumbling blocks due to the presence of an infant," She said, not unkindly.


    Orison said, "She has an aunt, a civilian UTF citizen with a PHD in psychiatry, who has experience with domestic abuse. She will not only be receptive to caring for Adena but understanding and capable of helping her deal with some of the repressed trauma she might be struggling with."


    Shifty affected a sigh. "That doesn''t address the infant. Mr Firebrand might be willing to let his daughter go but he will fight to retain guardianship of the child."


    Orison said, "Let him keep the child. In seven or so years, they''ll be two peas in a pod. If there is any snag caused by Mr. Firebrand trying to keep control of her through the child, raise that Adena is not the child''s natural mother. Her spiritual fragment or ''twinner'' is. She inherited it in the joining and has no legal obligations to it."


    ''She'' replied, "And if Ms Firebrand is threatened or coerced by her father using the child? Do not forget the emotional element involved here, Mr Cantrip."


    The young mage said, "She will have visitation rights that can be set up on her terms with a little help. He won''t hurt that child and it will receive the same smothering attention she used to be subjected to. If she isn''t aware of the nature that spurred it from that heartless prick, she''ll figure it out soon enough.


    "All that man cares about is an enduring legacy. If she stays with him, he''ll only use her up the same way he used her mother. And now that he already has a healthy kid, he''ll be more heavy handed about it.


    "If she starts having to get treatments for deep tissue injuries and starts signing more bogus voluntary treatments under duress like her mother did and no one stops it, I will lose all faith in the system and exercise the same ''look at all the good he''s done'' loopholes that piece of sh...work did to get MY way... I''m trying to save a life, Four. Help me save a life."


    Her face went completely blank for a moment and then said, "We''ll do what we can, Mr Cantrip. The collective appreciates the intoxicant supplement bath you gave me. It was significantly beneficial."


    Orison smiled. "I was happy to do so... Please advise Five to stop being a biological waste receptacle more than what''s deemed strictly necessary. It''s psychologically harmful to those who have unknowingly donated to the collective''s benefit. Spending long periods of time as one in the same place increases risk of discovery, diminishing its benefit and incurring resentment against the collective.


    "I''ve, um, sent you a list of a few who would willingly enjoy certain... leisure activities of the collective''s individual personalities. To avoid misunderstandings and maximize benefit, approach with caution and patience. Some of the interests of the collective are difficult for some to readily admit enjoying. It''s more of the contradictory emotional issues you''ve observed."


    Affecting a smile, Four said, "Majority has deemed you a friend of the collective, Mr Cantrip. We desire that you have a successful trial."


    After Shifty hung up, Captain Rogers said, "If you''d like to display your devious genius to someone, I have two more minutes of top security time for you to crow in."


    Orison laughed. "YOU want to know how I cornered a Triumvir and didn''t end up in the belly of Second Heaven? As it so happens, I do want to tell someone but don''t get the wrong idea. I hated doing it... mostly. Jacques is a really good guy but we really aren''t a good match as mentor and student. We''re both too damn stubborn to back down.


    "I abused code words to quick fix some things and I also said things that aroused his suspicions. It started out with him taking reasonable precautions that I didn''t like. I didn''t respond well which turned into unreasonable precautions on his behalf to display his anger and lead to the beginning of this situation that ended before it got truly started because...time travel.


    "You see, he''d already stolen an innovation I made to give to someone else. Next, he planned on sending Firebrand as my proctor which was going to end with the man calling his own maverick team to claim whatever resources I find and I''d get nothing. This was going to be done with the same excuse he used to steal my thunder on the magic item I released. I know potential future information.


    "Now, it''s reasonable to assume that an acquisitions team leader with knowledge of the future could do a lot of selfish things but I went out of my way to give people their kudos ahead of timeline schedule and have no intentions on stealing bread from someone else''s mouth. As you know, this place is pretty much played out. In another few months, it would have been shut down anyway.


    "The place I''m going is more for that school teacher out there. In fact, assemble a team of Irregulars and a couple of grunts who''ve made your nice list. I''ll have Roy mark our path. They can have fifty percent of the merit value of claimed resources if they will help the teacher do her thing and cart it all back."


    The Captain was stunned for a moment but thanked him and made arrangements.


    Before the young mage left, he asked, "That tells me what you''re doing and what he was going to do but you didn''t say how you got him to change his mind. Would have gotten? Time related issues are strange science to me."


    Orison''s eyes widened theatrically and he said in an exaggerated tone, "Isn''t it obvious already?... Just teasing. You should have a decent idea, though... This is an assumption but I would have definitely fought the theft of my resources being taken. In court, I would have plotted a good case. Eventually it would come to light that Gan had already spotted and marked the area but no one could reach it because without certain equipment and talents it would be a death trap.


    "Buuuut, once a safe path is plotted, it''s a piece of cake to reach. I would know. Me and Gan have plotted it once already... Would have. You know what I mean...


    "This is where it gets a little tricky because I''m not sure how it would go from there but I''m decently convinced Jacques would have used his power as a Triumvir to push a failure of defense. I would have immediately twisted that ruling to lay a claim on behalf of the Avalon Commonwealth to strip all remaining personal assets earned by past and future Triumvirs that held the artifact Jacques possesses effective from the time they started earning merits until they became a Triumvir and effective immediately after they left office til death. Why? For the same reason he was robbing me plus one that was a logical extension of that."

 185 Country of Champions 36

    Captain Rogers looked at Orison in amused horror. "Because Triumvir LeStrange was going to make it hard for you to earn a living, you were going to turn entire families, Mainly Dr Odd''s family, into merit-less paupers using his own ruling!? My god! After he left office or died, his own family would suffer the same fate and no one would want that artifact anymore."


    Orison shook his head. "Let''s get real. That wouldn''t happen but what WOULD happen is that Jacques would become a joke by the hands of the student that he had ''thrown away''. Doubt and suspicion would be planted into the minds of every citizen that the Triumvir chosen by that artifact could steal anything they wanted from anyone, anytime. The rest is a hellish snowball of bad.


    "Getting back to me, Mr Firebrand wouldn''t take his theft being stolen back, lying down. He would come after me and he''s so used to getting his way, that I''d have no trouble getting into a conflict with him and killing him in self defense. Make no mistake. I would gladly kill him if he gave me a reason to."


    As if speaking the devil''s name had summoned him, there was a pounding at the door and a bellow of rage fueled words that weren''t easy to understand. Captain Rogers attempted to have Orison go into his private quarters before answering but Mr Firebrand had taken matters out of the captain''s hand. He blew the door off with his primary ability, a kinetic charge of some kind that made imbued items explode.


    The irate man instantly changed his focus from Adam to Orison. To buy himself a second, the young mage used the spark of Herne''s hound resting in his ring to summon an impression. A shadowy mastiff sprang into being and with mindless aggression, threw itself towards Firebrand''s throat.


    The canine impression didn''t put on a very good show before it was loaded with a charge and blew to shadowy bits. Captain Rogers had already imposed himself between the two but the angry man had built up enough charge to blow him across the room. The broad spectrum B-class captain wouldn''t be harmed by it but he would be dazed for a moment.


    In the next moment, Orison had smacked Firebrand with a Lesser Disjunction. Not aware of any effect, the angry man finished barreling his way to the young mage. For all he was worth, Orison made an augmented sliding step to the right and delivered a haymaker from a southpaw stance. Every ounce of stored force he could load into it, was. With a snapping sound, Firebrand''s jaw dislocated.


    As the man''s head snapped back, he instinctively attempted to counter by injecting a large amount of kinetic energy into Orison''s fist that would have violently blown the young mage''s hand off, leaving him crippled. Aside from a small amount that split a knuckle and opened lesions on Orison''s hand, the rest was pulled apart and neutralized by the remnants of disjunction hanging in the air.


    "Twitch for me so I have a reason to give your skull some ventilation," the scout said menacingly.


    While Adam called personnel as he threw a pair of pants on, Orison cast another Lesser Disjunction to diffuse the charges the unconvinced Firebrand was covertly trying to spread around him. Within moments of their arrival, one person had a dampener equipment activated as they stripped Firebrand of all clothing and personal affects before rolling him up in plastic wrap, of all things.


    "That was the only non-lethal method I have of taking you down. That''s your one shot for a brawl. From here on out, I assume any other action is an attempt to kill me and I''ll respond decisively in that manner. Consider yourself fortunate that I just got off communication with Jacques who specifically asked me not to kill you or that would have been the end of it, Mr Firebrand," Orison said as he healed his hand and mended his boot simultaneously.


    One of the personnel asked, "Sir, since you''re capable of healing magic, would you mind healing the broken jaw and damaged knee cartilage?"


    Orison walked over and healed Firebrand''s knee while he said, "This, sure. His mouth? You really don''t want me to because he''ll start flapping his gums and I''ll finish what I started by ripping the damn thing off his face."


    With some instruction to the field medic on hand, Orison had the plastic opened up to the man''s groin and told Mr Firebrand. "I can use magic to pull your tendon down and reconnect it or I can use a scalpel. The choice is yours."


    Unrelenting death glares still shooting his way, Orison felt the man''s volatile aura stop fighting against the combination of lock/unlock and heal to grab the tendon that had pulled up into the man''s crotch. Covertly, Orison released a drop of vital water directly on the man''s slightly revealed, plastic wrapped package before finishing the process of healing the knee.


    He thought to himself. "Bet you''re feeling really good right now but wait for a couple of days and enjoy the ball cancer, you human shaped filth."


    Dazed on the pain medication drip they were giving him for his broken jaw, the man was only vaguely aware of a sudden additional euphoria before it quickly faded into the background. As soon as all the personnel were out of the office, Adam''s eye''s, dilated pupils quickly reversing to pin pricks, were locked onto Orison''s finger where the faintest trace of vital water vapor lingered on his uniform''s glove. The young mage mentally cursed for forgetting how sensitive Rogers family members were to it.


    "Feel like abusing your powers as Captain to delay my trial for a day? The secret you''re about to ask me to explain and it''s accompanying benefit in exchange for your silence isn''t a quick share like the toasts the last time I came to your office was," Orison said while mentally sighing and kicking himself.


    Having Garret on hand to explain everything and verify it for the Captain saved a great deal of time. After handing Firebrand over and posting serious charges that were destined to be reduced to a heavy merit fine and a stern lecture, Adam did abuse his authority to delay the trial. The young mage spent his first full day in the Barrens reliving his experience with Garret but with far more helping hands.


    Gurrut wasn''t complaining, though. With some sincere pleading from Garret, the orc blooded young man was added to the deal. If it hadn''t been for Stag''s assistance, the young mage would have been haggard. The green haired man wasn''t as skilled a healer but he had a superior method for removing the after effects.


    The results for Adam hadn''t been quite as dramatic but he was already fairly high up on the Rogers totem pole to begin with but Gurrut''s was visually traumatizing. Orison spent most of the early morning explaining to Garret that the teen''s run through hadn''t been much better. When it was all said and done, the orc blooded young man could almost pass for a built human if not for the minty skin cast and slightly thicker jowls that sported a tusk framed under-bite.


    Once Stag had gotten his sleep out, he switched with Orison. The two men''s ''return of spring'' happened during his trance and he could care less how they had handled it. With a day down, things were back on track, however.


    Getting the whole team together after an uneventful evening and night, at least for Orison, it didn''t escape the young mage''s notice that Roy and Julia had become a lot closer during their day of mutual seclusion. "Mr Collier, I notice that on the checklist there''s a missing alertness aid and a minor magic supplement meant to help with blood loss that could potentially be used for other purposes. Was your day out on the town with Stag not enough to get you by?"


    Suddenly waylaid nearly a quarter of a day out and unprepared to defend, Roy flushed a crimson red and said, "Well, things kind of happened and, uh, I needed the boost BECAUSE of my day out. Did I strike a party foul or something?"


    Orison chuckled and said, "No. They were a part of the non-essentials and I already told everyone that they could pull from that bag without asking permission. Just keep the checks accurate so I can replace as needed."


    Roy let out a sigh of relief as the young mage added, "We better pick up the pace, though. There was a certain item that wasn''t taken from the non-essentials bag that should have been and mixing magic with recklessness might... Well, let''s just make sure we get to our destination soon."


    Pale faced and a little panicked, Roy showed him a bottle of ointment the specialist nicknamed ''sonblock'' which only caused Orison to laugh. "You do know how that works and how the medicine you took works, right?"


    Chances were actually quite low that things would take a turn to ''too serious, too fast'' but it wasn''t out of the realm of reasonably possible either.


    The young mage had an aside with Gan, "We need to make some extra buffer time. How much ground can we gain versus danger increase if we push for an extra half day over the next two?"


    The scout said, "The first day out has turned into an avoidance zone for the wildlife and there''s plenty of safe paths. Too bad neither of us has our horse tricks anymore or you could have it with no increase in danger. I wouldn''t suggest speeding up anything on the last day. My map still doesn''t register terrain issues as natural traps."


    Orison thought it over and spoke to the Summit instructor. "I have a way to speed up travel for two to threefold I want to use for the first day due to a low but possible trial ending event."


    He motioned with his eyes between Roy and Julia and continued, "Can you keep up or do I have to find a way to include you?"


    The instructor laughed and said, "As a team lead, your biggest enemy will always be an internal one to keep your members in check... Do what you got to do. If I fall too far behind, I''ll radio in a ride."


    The young mage said, frowning, "You don''t want to rely on that after today, sergeant. The last day won''t be a place vehicles can go and the last half of the second day is a place where they shouldn''t."


    Scowling, the acting proctor said, "Son, I''ve been at this for almost as long as you''ve been alive. Handle your business."


    Orison looked down at his uniform gloved hand and imagined the Celtic style knot work on his ring. On one side was a hound and the other was a horse. Within each was a spark stolen from Herne as the tricky huntsman had found yet one more way to survive.


    Drawing on the spark from the horse side, Orison cast an impression and let the ring hold it. He gave that one to Gan because it would act like a real horse in all ways and the scout was the only one who actually knew how to handle the creature. Drawing on the spark as model, he cast the two he was capable of personally holding.


    Gurrut had enough experience to keep himself and Garret seated, at least. Stag rode with Gan up front and Roy climbed on with Orison. For a moment, he had thought about riding with Gan one last time but it seemed like a bad idea. Not only emotionally but because Orison''s spirit sight was what covered the back and flanks when Gan roved ahead.


    With that change in logistics, they were covering ground quickly while Julia''s ball rolled and bounced almost comically behind them. He was glad she didn''t get motion sick and instead seemed like she was having a blast until she bit her tongue giggling and whooping after getting the hang of jumping mounds.


    Cast from the same mold, the less autonomous horses seemed to fall in line with the one held by the ring, even taking subtle ques from it when rats the size of bulldogs started being attracted towards them. They barely paused more than to stomp a few times if one got close enough, moving in a synchronized ''V'' shape with Gan''s.


    When two legged reptilian creatures started appearing, there was a shift to Gan firing arrows while Orison used a weak telekinesis model to retrieve them. The ones that got closer were picked off by ''caster guns'' fired by Roy and Stag. Tactics changed once again when the local hostile fauna disappeared. Despite being vigilant, a quick and nearly silent threat descended down from a nearby ridge at bullet-like speeds catching Gan off guard.


    With a rush of adrenaline fueled reflex, Gurrut pulled his brother off their horse right before a pterodactyl looking bird scratched enough damage into their horse''s back to disintegrate the model. Because of the rough landing, Garret''s wrist was fractured and he had a pretty nasty crack in his helmet from landing on a rock almost head first. Despite its speed, Gan put an arrow through the flying menace''s neck on its second pass, severing its spine while Roy and Stag both only managed to put a couple holes in its leathery wings.


    While Orison healed Garret''s wrist and mended the helmet, Gan said, "I don''t remember the ridge racers coming this far down."


    The young mage said worriedly, "Neither do I. This isn''t a good sign. Something''s changed."


    After a brief discussion, they got off the horses and proceeded on foot.


    "Roy, start trail marking now. How far til our first rest stop, Gan?" Orison asked.


    The scout said, "We passed it but this is going to keep us from making the next one before nightfall."


    "How long past?" he asked.


    Gan guessed, "At our current pace? Maybe around nine. It could be later depending on how much pace slows after twilight."


    "We''ll push on til that then. Roy, every five minutes put down another marker. The distance reader you have doesn''t function properly out here. Neither will your compass," Orison said.


    Gan set a light jog as pace but it became apparent that trying to reach the site sooner was a pipe dream. Roy wasn''t as conditioned as they were. Julia wasn''t as adept at switching between the low light monitor and real sight, causing her to get disoriented while directing the Gerbil Ball. The icing on the cake was that Stag seemed unluckily prone to stepping right where Julia would aim for with the ball. At one point she had even ran him over causing some light injuries.


    When one of the leathery fliers was attracted to a dying ray of light glinting off of Julia''s ball, it dive bombed towards her, putting a huge hole in it and even putting a hairline crack in the inner ballistics plastic layer. The decibel defying shriek she produced put them in a tough spot for awhile.


    By the time they had driven off or killed everything that had come to investigate, Orison was doing more mending in a single go than he had ever done before. While he was busy with that, Stag picked up slack with healing and even a couple of shamanistic versions of ''Cure Disease''. An unusual amount of rats had responded to Julia''s cry of distress but with a fresh pile of carrion behind them, Orison wasn''t as stressed about rear guard.


    In the Barrens, everything was hostile but they were first and foremost scavengers. With easier meals to be had, remaining threats would focus on that first. A point that Roy reported with zooming night goggles as a small swarm of rats chewed on their fallen brethren before ridge racers scared them off to have their turn.


    As they shuffled into the rest site set by the first explorers of the area almost nine years prior, Roy clocked the time as eleven minutes to eleven. Julia had turned on the ''shade'' not too long after the first scare and had only lifted it once during the fight because not knowing what was going on was worse than watching. She was already sleeping for the past two hours while her ball auto followed the beacon Roy''s wrist implant emitted.


    Orison was quick to squash a few disgruntled stares that had been leveled in the sleeping woman''s direction. "Listen up. The scariest thing that Julia''s ever had to face before today was a wolf spider in her bathtub and that left her traumatized for days. The fact that she agreed to come knowing that she would be seeing things that will possibly end up with the need for counseling makes her brave in my book. She''s a school teacher for goodness sake."


    Stag chuckled and said, "Don''t mistake me. I''m just jealous and want to crawl in there with her."


    "It just dawned on me that roughing it''s not really your wheel house either. Sorry Stag. I''ll try to get you a shiny ball to ride around all safe and cozy in next time okay?" Orison said in a lightly teasing voice.


    A wizened and rough chuckle drew their attention to a camouflage shelter set up into the ridge. "What took you so long?"


    In annoyance, the young mage said, "Far too many local wildlife in places they shouldn''t be. Know anything about it?"


    "You could ask the Eclipse maverick team. One of them in a powered suit dropped me off on the way to a corundum mining site they discovered about a day up," The Summit instructor said.


    Orison started laughing before his face turned sad.


    When the instructor asked what was funny about that, he responded. "It''s not really funny at all. You''ll see when we catch up with them tomorrow... Roy, radio back to the fort that Firebrand had his team reopen the corundum mine and they''ll need emergency relief and a radiation sick ward prepared... Make a token effort to contact Eclipse to warn them."

 186 Country of Champions 37

    Since older teams had other channels to filter acquisitions through, Avalon rarely got the fair share they should but as long as teams weren''t pushing the smuggling too far, Core Administration wasn''t going to waste more resources on monitoring them than what they''d be able to seize. It was almost a sure bet that Firebrand''s group would be worth the random high tech shakedown this trip. And considering that it was potentially cutting into Adam''s retirement fund, they''d be getting one.


    The sad thing was that it was a case of mistaken resource find. The place had been found a long time ago but had been temporarily abandoned due to uncovering a limit of plane depth. The place had been deemed too dangerous to continue operations until the plane was ready to be decommissioned. Planar walls were always some kind of dangerous. The Barrens, more than most.


    But once they were ready to shut a rip down, places like the corundum mine would be excavated by a space craft that Avalon would personally spring widening the rip to push in, assuming it was worth while. Such a craft would have a limited time to mass grab things and a ten percent cut was given to the Captain that held the fort down as a bonus. The Eclipse team thought they were getting one over on Orison''s team but all they had earned was death, medical bills and a fort captain waiting to fleece them.


    While the young mage spared a thought of sympathy for the team that would be heading back in tomorrow with pain and regret, the brothers had gotten busy setting up a modular pavilion. Once inside the space large enough for the instructor to laugh about it, Orison activated the wards drawn up on the inside to prevent spying and with a great effort, produced the cabin from his space.


    There were a few enchantments on it that the young mage didn''t understand. They were locked away from his prying eyes but one of them allowed for him to remove and deposit it back into his space despite it being far larger than any object he could consciously choose to. With a nearly unanimous shocked look, he invited them in.


    The six sleeping cabin had one major problem for all its conveniences. It was an essence hog. Inactive, a single mote of condensed eternium could keep it in good repair for ages in his space but when fully activated, it could burn through a stripped human soul''s worth in around a day. Much less if it were under attack.


    Within a few minutes, everyone was treating the place like just another magic trick he could do. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, he wondered what they would think if they knew the nature of what ran the terrifying cabin. Even more so, if they knew what its real purpose was.


    The real reason it cost so much was because time inside could be entirely halted and only ran around a full day before restarting if there was enough essence for the reboot. The cabin had been built within a singe fragmented ''frame'' of time removed from the stack of who knows where. Only a being who could manipulate laws to an insane degree could do such a thing and Orison knew exactly what the price of this advance payment from Sammy was.


    He wasn''t pleased but it could be considered rather fair. Despite all the limitations it possessed that stopped it from having uses outside of being able to ''keep'' a few willing people safely in his space for awhile or holding perishables indefinitely, it would survive the harsh crossover to the mid-dimensions in tact. Considering its abilities, that alone made it priceless.


    Early the next morning, he made everyone a modest breakfast and some fresh coffee. Before anyone was ready to stir, he invited Julia to come in and clean up, giving him a chance to presto her chair and the ''pot'' underneath it. After everyone was done doing their thing, he put it away with instructions for no one to mention the cabin.


    After taking a moment to mend the pavilion module of scratches and chew marks, he had the brothers pack it up while the gloating Summit instructor said, "Nice and cozy up here. How did you sleep down there with those rats trying to gnaw their way in? Anybody sick yet?"


    Orison said, "Blood Moon, give the proctor our best fresh-faced smile and greeting."


    It took the man a moment but he suddenly realized that everyone looked well rested, clean and content, at least on the surface. The man didn''t take it badly. He just shrugged and chuckled before calling in his response personnel to gather up his things.


    On the road, out of some misplaced sympathy and very much average person curiosity, Orison asked the man, "How many did they lose?"


    The instructor shook his head in pity. "Half of a six man team. Two are going to be just fine but the last one''s going to have some serious permanent problems unless he gets some expensive treatments done."


    As they passed the opening to the corundum mine, Orison sent in an impression of Nibbles to fetch something. He gave the operation a quarter hour but was done in around ten minutes while his team took an early ration bar lunch. When the shadowy dog came out with a small bag in its mouth, he quickly dismissed it and threw the bag into his space for a moment before pulling it back out and handing it to the instructor.


    "This belongs to Captain Rogers. Ask him to make sure the man gets the treatment he needs." Orison said grimly.


    The instructor''s eyes bored into him as the older man said, "You trying to win a saint''s badge or something?"


    He shook his head and answered, "Just sowing seeds."


    After a few more hours, it became apparent that there had been another team ahead of them. There were the occasional rat or strange reptile corpse scattered along. Someone was trying to predictive model their course. Orison wanted to laugh but couldn''t. If Firebrand had his team try to head them off where they were going, it would be lucky if any survived.


    Orison sighed as they set up at the last safety shelter. "I don''t know if it will do any good, sergeant, but could you radio back and let someone who can contact that team in front of us know that our destination is past the ''air splinter'' field. If they keep trying to stay ahead of us, they are going to die and not even know how it happened."


    The older man chuckled and said, "You sure do know how to get an old man''s heart pumping. Who did I p*ss off to get stuck proctoring you? Have I just lived too long and payroll doesn''t want to shell out for my retirement?"


    Orison smiled and said, "Just stick around, old man. I''m going to show you that you don''t have to pray for miracles if one is meant for you."


    The old man kept chuckling but there was a little frost to his smile as he said, "I can call myself one all day but if YOU call me ''old man'' again, you''ll need a miracle to pass your trial."


    Later that evening, Roy had a special request to have the cabin to him and Julia''s selves for awhile. Apparently, the grizzled Summit instructor wasn''t the only one to get shaken up by ''air splinters'' being mentioned. It was a bit sappy and melodramatic in Orison''s eyes but he was only asking for a half hour. Instead of crowding on the cabin''s relatively small front porch, the brothers elected to take that time to have the bathroom to themselves instead.


    Alone with Gan on the front porch as a bit of weak sound filtered out that the young mage would have been happy to leave trapped inside, he made small talk to drown it out. "What''s the first thing you''re going to do after you get back?"


    The scout said, "I''m going to find Halda. If she''s still alive and unhitched, I''m going to see if she''d be willing to give me a child in exchange for making her young again with the extra stuff you gave me."


    Wide eyed, Orison said, "The lady I tried to help become a therapist? Why? I mean, aside from the obvious ''why not?''.


    Gan said, "Because Gran asked me to. It''s going to sound crazy but when I was dying in the other future, I saw her. She said that if I found myself alone, I should find the woman with the orange handkerchief and I''d know a kind of happiness until my real happiness would come for me.


    "If you want to hear a more practical reason, it''s because I want to be a father. Being the way I am, I thought I''d end up taking some tired bar maid home with me at some point anyway. A person who could secretly accept who I am and still be happy with what I CAN provide, you know? Having lives I care about to be responsible for will keep me from doing something stupid.


    "You can blame yourself. You sort of planted the idea in my head. It made me want to believe my vision of Gran was real and I thought that kind of life wouldn''t be so bad."


    Jokingly, Orison said, "What if you had a daughter and she fell in love with me?"


    The scout responded in a light voice, "In this make believe, do you love her too?"


    "Uh... sure, why not," the young mage said unthinkingly.


    Gan nodded and said, "I''d walk her over to your house on a garland decorated horse and after the festivities were over, I''d find a way to disappear that wouldn''t make her too sad when I never came back."


    Realizing he said something cruel without meaning to, Orison attempted to pull the conversation from it''s gloomy nosedive. "Note to self. Do not fall in love with Gan''s possible future daughter. I will lose my future long road companion. Post note. It''s a bad trade."


    Gan laughed but there was some building real anger in his voice. "My daughter''s not good enough for you?"


    With a serious face, Orison said, "Your kids are my kids. I shouldn''t be making eyes at them. That would be wrong."


    "Gods but you are a greedy man," Gan said after a long silence.


    Orison agreed and added, "If I had a son and he fell in love with you, I''d beat his *ss and tell him he couldn''t have you... Note to self. Always be stronger than son. He might inherit my greediness."


    The silence lingered a little longer and Gan said in a cracking voice, "I should have known the day that little silver tonged devil squeezed my hand, I''d be wrapped around his little finger until the day I died. If I knew then what I know now, would I have had the courage to squeeze it back?"


    As the sounds in the cabin died down to silence, the silence on the porch became stifling.


    Orison finally said, "I know better than to write a check with my mouth that my assets aren''t ready to cash. Instead, can I have one last ''best friend'' Gan hug before it becomes all or nothing?"


    With troubled eyes, Gan relented. Orison pretended not to notice Gan was taking in his scent, making a memory to last the rest of his life. But the young mage couldn''t ignore what he heard before the scout cried in a very un-Northman like way.


    "S'' cruel," Gan repeated between sobs.


    Not feeling too good about it himself, Orison said, "I know. I won''t insult you by apologizing. I just hope I have the ability to make it right some day."


    "You may not have to. Maybe I''ll be the cruel one and you''ll find that I''ve buried your memory, found someone else to walk the long road with," the scout said, airing his hurt feelings and pride.


    Orison nodded and said, "Because I''m cruel, greedy, selfish... all of those things and more, I might be able to accept you someday but I don''t think I''ll ever be able to be happy for you with all my heart if you find that person but I''ll try."


    While they sat in silence once again, two ethereal ripples spread across the plane in quick succession. The young mage and scout looked at each other with similar expressions of alarm.


    "It''s happening three times faster. I should have known. What''s below cannot affect what''s above but the reverse doesn''t apply. Beta Prime may have reversed it''s ascent but Alpha Minoris didn''t stop falling. The will of this world is playing catch up," he informed the scout.


    Cracking the door to the cabin, he shouted, "Change of plans. Julia, kick the brothers out of the bathroom and get cleaned up. We pack up in five. The time table just lost a crap ton of comfort zone and we''re in the red."


    Ignoring the scent of burnt herbs and the red eyed chuckling of the two brothers, he had them start packing up, to their surprise. Once Julia had loaded up into the ball and supplies were put away, the young mage hit everyone with a Heal and Cure Poison, not taking chances that someone else had indulged in something they shouldn''t have.


    After a few instructions to Roy, the young mage shouted at the module shelter holding the Summit instructor. "Double merging phenomenon in rapid succession just occurred. We need to wrap this up and get away from the outer edges of this plane before the end of tomorrow. No rest for the wicked. Chop, chop."


    Their proctor came out of the back of his module and said, "So, let me get this straight. We had two merging ripples or whatever jargon Core Administration slaps on it this week until something trendy sticks. It''s something that gets all these planar latrine holes all jumpy and jittery.


    "And instead of packing it up, use the ripples as an excuse for a retry, you''re going to barrel on through one of the most unstable regions of this plane... Do you know what an air splinter is? Do you know what it does when you run into one?"


    Orison laughed. "I think they''re invisible stress cracks. No one knows what they are exactly but the common theory is that they''re splinters of some extra dimensional space material. That''s bull and I don''t think they move either. I think the plane kind of drifts around a bit and so does the other side of those stress fractures. Someone''s about to make the math work on ''wobbling curve theory'' and it''ll all match up."


    The man took on the universal customary scowl of military disciplinarians the multiverse over and said, "I could care less about the why''s and the how''s. What they do is slice you so cleanly you won''t feel it until part of you slides off the rest of you."


    Putting his best poker face on, the young mage said, "Follow me if you''re not a chicken sh*t or sit here and wait for pick up after failing me. Whether your name is on this achievement record or not matters less to me than astrophysics seem to tickle your interest."


    Red faced, the man said, "Will you feel the same way after I radio in your detainment and declare you unfit?"


    Orison waved as they started moving and shouted back over his shoulder, "Avalon is first and foremost, a Meritocracy, sergeant. Join the list of jumping clowns that tried to stand in my way and failed if you want. I don''t have time to coddle an ego today."


    He ignored what came after, "Well, look at the balls on you!"


    Once they were barely outside of hearing distance, Stag said, "Say what you want. That man has turned foul language into an art form. If they don''t give medals for that, they should reconsider just for his sake... It''s been so long since I felt my ears burn, I''ve forgotten what the sensation felt like."


    "It''s nice to be appreciated," the proctor said as his suit came out of stealth.


    Julia shrieked and then apologized profusely causing the man to chuckle in spite of his anger. Surprisingly, he apologized to her for ''conduct unbecoming''.


    Turning on Orison, who showed no surprise at all, he said, "I was half a second from putting a bullet in you but I''m more interested in what''s so damn important out here that a nice lady who has no business being in this dangerous place can pull up her bootstraps for it."


    The young mage said, "Well I''m glad you didn''t try. Once Julia''s done with her observations, use the emergency jump circle you have folded up in your pack to take her back and bill me for it. I''d appreciate it if you''d radio Captain Rogers and let him know to pick up the pace. The illumination technique I''m going to use for the cracks will only last for a few hours and we''re going to get there a few hours ahead of schedule.


    "I don''t want anyone to run out of time and get stuck trying to navigate blind through the air splinters back from the acquisition site. Assuming they stay the minimum distance away from an active trial. They''ll have a maximum of two hours to safely collect what they can. People may not have a lot of love to spare for Irregulars but not all of them actually belong there in my opinion."

 187 Country of Champions 38

    Eyes narrowed, the young mage cut him off. "Who came from a UTF dormitory about a month ago, spent about three years being passed around as property in an alternate future I returned from around two weeks ago and I''ve been running non-stop since my feet hit the ground in Avalon.


    "The only thing I''ve been entitled to is misery. You can take the merits and medals and shove them up your *ss because I don''t do it for you, Core or the whole f***ing League. I do for the close people I care about and for myself. If I strike you as a suicidal idealist, you''ve been assigned to the wrong job. Being a proctor requires decent observational skills at a bare minimum."


    Revving up to getting his say after the strange hold that kept him from speaking stopped, the proctor heard Gan say, "Three o'' clock, thirty meters up and fifty-four meters out. If you had taken aim when you drew your caster gun, you wouldn''t be standing here."


    "Why''d you have to tell him that for? You think I pretended that I couldn''t tell where he was actually at all the time for fun? He was bribed by Firebrand to make sure I had an accident. I wanted to see if he would try." Orison said, hamming it up.


    The Summit instructor''s anger evaporated. "You were winding me up to see if I would do it?"


    "Maybe a little but I changed my mind because I don''t have the time to play those kind of games," the young mage said.


    The older man took a moment to laugh at himself before picking up his pace. "Cocky brat."


    When the last ridge flattened out into a broken and furrowed plain, the young mage called a halt for a moment while he summoned an impression of wind and water elementals. The ghostly fish and bird circled each other like playful children but it was on orders.


    He barked out, "Take a deep breath, remove your helmet and cover your face with the activated charcoal wipes. Put your helmets back on. Use the air in you to blow out the unclean air in your helmet and then change the filter to the one with charcoal in it."


    Looking over to the proctor, he said, "I''ve got a spare."


    "For all I knew, the corundum mine WAS your destination. My filter already has activated charcoal in it. Why doesn''t yours?" the man said smugly.


    Orison said, "I don''t do showy unless it''s useful but it''s about to get real showy around here."


    Once everyone was ready, he opened a box filled with dusty red powder, laid it down quickly and backed up to let his impressions pull it all up. Gan had already started walking and telling Roy where to lay travel markers down. Once everyone was on the move, the young mage followed behind, letting the ball of dirty mist float like a tethered balloon several feet behind him.


    It started to once he returned to see what Orison was up to. To either side of the trail Gan had Roy mark and sometimes had one of the brothers draw hazard symbols onto the ground with spray paint, the dirty mist would occasionally stick to needle like objects in the air. The objects moved slowly but fast enough that if one stood still, they could notice.


    The man gawked in amazement until Orison pulled on him. "That''s powdered corundum from the mine. Do you want to get radioactive dust actually caught in your respirator filter?"


    Rushing to put distance between himself and the floating dirty cloud, the man asked, "How in the world does that work?"


    The young mage replied, "Planes with radiation in its walls produce some of the more interesting things. If one of those interesting things is a mineral that can retain that radiation it can be added to a spray mix. That mix will stick to the stress cracks. If you want to find out more about it, the person responsible for discovering it will publish their results sometime next week.


    "Take this stack of rough maps. On them is the ingredients used to reproduce this effect on some of the other planes and the teams who found the resources reachable. A couple of them haven''t formed yet. I don''t know how that works but I''ll leave it to your discretion. Jacques will have a copy of them sometime tomorrow on his desk. I''m making you my checks and balances on that."


    "Why didn''t you tell your mentor right away?... Never mind. You belong in Core with the rest of the mental cases, not out here with us honest folk," the instructor said.


    Orison sneered. "Honest folk... Say that when retrieval teams stop devaluing Irregular crew finds by anywhere up to ninety percent by the time they trickle down to the captain''s cut. If there was accurate accounting of how little of the found resources actually make it to the commonwealth vault, there would be riots."


    The old man snorted. "I thought you weren''t a suicidal idealist?"


    "Do you see me rushing to Core record keeping with a calculator and scratch paper? I''ve got better things to do than be a target for assassination by UTF infiltrators and being the most hated ''treasure troll'' in Rowdies history," the young mage shot.


    The older man laughed. "Are you b*tching at me to ease your guilty conscience?"


    With a completely straight face, Orison looked at the Summit instructor and said, "Pretty much, Sergeant."


    "Boy, I know I''ll never have to ability to make you but would it kill you to call me Master Sergeant if you want to use military rank?" the man growled in irritation.


    Orison chuckled. "Wow. I honestly thought you were a First Sergeant at best. And by the way, you probably did p*ss someone off to get nominated to be my proctor... Hey, the Summit instructor I have from school gave me some good advice. Get a stick of your favorite lip balm-"


    The older man made a swipe for the back of Orison''s head which he barely avoided. Laughing, Orison jogged ahead with the Master Sergeant hot on his heals. It was more to stay away from the floating mist ball than for a second chance to box the young mage''s ears.


    A couple of hours later, right after daybreak, Gurrut barely managed to catch Roy from headbutting an air splinter when the exhausted equipment specialist stumbled. Neither of them knew how close it had been but Gan broke out in a cold sweat and informed Orison of their situation. Not that he needed it, the young mage could see the slivers of fractured space just fine in daylight.


    Where they walked was a narrow land bridge just far enough away from both walls of the plane to be safe. That strip of land was generously peppered with air splinters to the point, that in the light of day, they looked like a collection of exploding black tree stumps frozen in mid shrapnel spray to Orison''s spatially sensitive vision. He wondered what it looked like on Gan''s mental map but was disappointed to find out that they were just blotches of red zones.


    Soon, it was time for Orison to step up because ''air splinters'' weren''t actually only present in the air. They were only more abundant there and more than capable of causing structural weakness in terrain. It was the one kind of ''natural'' trap that didn''t reliably get recorded by his map. Most likely because it was too complex a set of possible dangers that would turn the whole thing red.


    There were a few times that Julia''s ride was heavy enough to cause cracks and a couple of times it had started sink holes but they got it through safe enough. Luckily, their proctor consented to bringing her back and with a relatively safe course plotted, the ''gerbil ball'' would have relatively few problems making it back on its own when that time came. The spare suit inside the ball was quite a bit too big for her but considering that she''d only have to wear it to get back to base through a jump and a short ride, that wasn''t a big concern.


    Having finally made it to their destination, everyone except Gan and the young mage were speechless. For miles, a marshy series of glens meandered between rolling hills. It was what the rest of the Plague barrens had somewhat looked like at some point in the plane''s history. A huge underwater reserve that sat within the bowels of the place had slowly trapped most of the moisture underground allowing the top to dry out. Due to it''s low setting and isolation, the area had maintained its original quality.


    It had also maintained the natural environment that contained a huge preserve of pretty much every type of desirable plant life the rest of the Barrens had been scoured clean of. There were even a few that hadn''t been discovered before that Orison was keen on collecting. While he ordered his team to demarcate the safe collection radius, mainly by collecting some things themselves, he carefully and covertly had his water elemental impression pick out a few of the rarer ones. No one was the wiser and even the proctor''s eyes twinkled with some opportunistic glee, engaged in some covert snatching of his own.


    Since she was already aware of what she was looking for, it didn''t take long for her to piece together why Avalon hadn''t had much success in domesticating the spade flower or the triple seven mushroom. Not that anyone would care much about the mushroom when they had living versions of the dead wood it grew on. Affectionately renamed the Collier Bush, making Roy blush, it''s berries contained a much higher amount of what made the triple seven mushroom so desirable and lent itself to fermentation directly, preserving more of its effect.


    There was also a couple fauna that not only were generally useful but were key factors for two breakthrough treatments. None of that had much to do with the young mage but he made sure to capture a few for personal alchemical use. By the time that the team Captain Rogers sent caught up, Orison and his team had gathered as much as they reasonably could make use of and it was time to part ways with their proctor.


    The looks of tearful gratitude and idolization on the group of Irregular''s faces made the young mage uneasy and he was ready to be gone but there were some things to deal with first. Roy took some pictures and collected a few samples for Julia to study back at home. That would be important for her work and make sure that no one could screw over the collecting crew.


    While Roy made a sappy parting with Julia, Orison finalized his trial with the proctor. He took a moment to warn the Rowdies in charge about the time deadline and what he would do if they pushed things too far out of greed and caused needless death. There was a chance they wouldn''t listen but there wasn''t much he could do about it beyond providing evidence for criminal charges after the fact.


    "Once this event is done, that woman over there needs to see Triumvir LeStrange. She isn''t a schizophrenic triggered by drugs. She has a condition caused by a mutation that hasn''t been categorized properly and the artifact he carries can fix it with a love tap to her head." Orison said to his proctor while pointing at a relatively young woman who was muttering to herself.


    The Summit instructor said, "Be prepared to be grilled on coals when you get back. There''s no way you''re going to escape full debriefing and questions after popping off this big of a haul."


    Orison sighed and said, "I know but the Barrens is the only place I personally know well."


    In a whisper, the man asked, "So, what got you posted as an Irregular here?"


    Darkly, the young mage responded, "A false charge by a devil marked adjunct who better already be dead. I was slotted for death march duty through Echo Mire but was pulled here by Captain Rogers. He saved my life."


    "And here I thought you were a unicorn who was making doe eyes for him," the older man said with a nasty smirk.


    With a wooden face, Orison said, "Go f*** yourself, old man."


    Snickering, the proctor said, "Since you made me a happy man, I''ll let you get away with that but if I see you in Summit, I''m going to rip you a new a**hole and there ain''t going to be nothing romantic about it."


    As he stomped away, Orison muttered, "Have Julia re-teach you High School English, you double negative using jerk."


    Freed from the trial, equipment bans were lifted. Within a few minutes, they were out of the planar peninsula and headed for another. Due to the compound hazards of unstable ground and air splinters mixed with the plane''s suppression of combustion and inability to externally sustain magic over a certain output, mountain bikes with a minor mobility assistance were the best they could safely use. There were better but that ''better'' was far outside of civilian access or affordability.


    They were making good time but it would be quite awhile before rest was an option. At first, he wanted to hold off on alertness aids because of prejudice against them and concern over their possible interactions with other medicines. But after Roy crashed his bike and Stag almost did, he had everyone chew a ginseng and hoped it would be enough.


    It occurred to Orison belatedly that he had underestimated fatigue levels when factoring in all the ''exercise'' that they were doing along with pushing a day and a half without a proper rest. Stag and Roy might be better off than the average human but Stag was slightly lazy and self indulgent whereas Roy wasn''t that ''advanced''. He decided that after their main goal for coming here was achieved, he''d spare the expense of his cabin one more time for the return trip.


    Forced to walk due to the sheer amount of air splinters and weak ground the last bit of their journey, Orison said, "Good lawd, Gan. What caused you to risk this?"


    Looking at Orison confused, he said, "I could feel the spot calling to me. Can''t you? Your pull should be a lot stronger than mine."


    "All the miasma I took in was completely naturalized. I also took in another source... er, make that two... three maybe? A lot more than that indirectly for sure," Orison said.


    Garret spoke up. "Not to sound like the ignorant one here but what are you talking about? Um... if it''s alright to ask."


    Orison pointed at Gurrut. "The Barrens are connected to your brother''s ancestor''s home reality. It''s a place called Amoril. Gan and I are from there too but a lot more recently... There are-were special places there I had a personal connection to due to a poorly thought out use of a certain, lets call it, essence.


    "When it ascended to the mid-dimension, much like this world is trying to do but in a much less dramatic way, it shook pieces off and this was one of those pieces. This piece also happens to have a part of that certain essence, creating a special place for me to go and loot but... It''s not as useful as it once was for me and is actually a big problem for everyone if left alone.


    "Now don''t get me wrong. I said not AS useful. It''s still pretty damn useful and it''s practically the answer to prayers you guys didn''t even know you could make. It''ll be a lot clearer once we''re there.


    "But hear me on this. Don''t touch anything I don''t tell you to and do as I say. If not, the lightest consequence is getting really sick and the worst consequence is... death is far more preferable. This isn''t a joke or me trying to make sure I have dibs on stuff. Even standing somewhere other than where I tell you to stand could cause you to be erased from existence at one point.


    "You too, Roy. Dimensional erasure phenomenon isn''t a myth. Both you and Garret have light and fluffy souls primed for collapse. To put it in a simple but confusing way, you''re not real enough to withstand the exposure... yet. You will be."


    Roy said, "Our souls... are marshmallows?"


    Orison shook his head. "Yours is more like a doughy dinner roll with a piece of rock grit baked into it. Garret''s is like a seeded grape."


    "What''s mine look like?" Gurrut asked, trying but failing to look barely interested.


    Orison chuckled in exasperation. "You guys are basically asking me to do simple math while I''m counting a stack of money. You do realize if I miss something-"


    Gan cut in, "I''ll catch it? Come on. I want to know what my soul looks like too."


    Sighing, he relented. "Gurrut, yours looks kind of like a piece of honeycomb with a petrified bee inside. Gan''s is kind of like a spun sugar egg filled with pieces of frozen gum candy and a BB. I can only see the surface layers of Stag''s soul and it''s like looking into a mirror with a mirror behind me except the copies of myself stretching out infinitely, all look fuzzy but definitely different. A reflective jawbreaker?"


    Stag said, "And your own? It''s only fair."


    Orison thought about it and said, "A band with grooves and bumps I''m not spiritually strong enough to survive examining, inside an iceberg, inside a sea, inside a clear rubber teething ring."


    "Why are everybody''s souls except yours compared to food? Also, should I be concerned that mine sounds tasty?" Gurrut said.

 188 Country of Champions 39

    "Back to your burial hole for round two. Are you ready?" Orison said looking at Gan.


    The scout looked into the earthen maw, barely paying attention. The site was a double whammy of bad memories for him. He fell to his death there and the stint of demonic planar conquerors began there as well.


    Unintentionally, Gan ignored his question and said, "There''s red dots down there. They aren''t moving."


    The young mage replied, "We knew it was a possibility. That means their leader was connected enough to the mid-dimensions that he was either not affected by our time transposition or he remembers somehow. The gate won''t fully become operational until I trigger the red moon rising thing. They can''t be more than imps or whatever the abyssal equivalent is.


    "Okay, I''m going to jump down in spectral form. I''ve got around ten seconds to warp a spirit trap into existence while taking control of the gate after going ''Dark Space'' form. If it takes longer than that, the suction will reverse and I''ll start unraveling as I eat myself."


    "What does that even mean?" Roy asked.


    "You''ll find out soon enough. Just remember to stand on the symbols boss showed you earlier, when and as they appear." Gan said.


    Stag added, "Let''s get this over with. I''m due for a long sleep. Don''t bother trying to get me up until I''m ready or I''m going to be cranky. You wouldn''t like me when I''m cranky."


    There was a strangeness to Stag''s mood that tickled Orison''s intuition but it wasn''t anything bad, only hinting at a low level of unwanted result. At that late point in the game, it was no telling and there were too many variables to account for everything. He just crossed his fingers and as soon as the rest of his team had their repel ropes anchored deep into stable dirt, he made a run for it.


    The elegant dive he had planned didn''t happen as a large chunk of crust broke off under his feet nearly two yards from the lip. After pinballing off a couple of rock formations, he went two dimensional cut-out, ghost version. Gliding awkwardly to the floor of the cavern, he auto-corrected enough to glide past a few small humanoids that reeked of sulfur and threw small fiery balls of dirty essence at him.


    Underneath the spectral covering, one of the balls slipped through and badly burned his left arm. Past the point of being able to dodge, he switched to devouring mode as an illusory sky with spectral trees sprung into existence around him. On the grounds of the eerie midnight setting with a bloated red moon dominating the sky, he spotted a small temple sitting precariously balanced on a crumbling cliff ledge.


    Instead of fighting the first interloper, who was in the process of rushing the mirror''s transition to its location, Orison grabbed the hand with his devouring intent coated one and pulled with all his might. Unprepared for assistance, the large demon suddenly had no resistance to step through, stumbling into the center of the ritual diagram that the young mage was still finishing. Turning to deal with him, the demon ignored the sounds just outside the temple door til an arrow tore through the side of it''s neck, spraying steaming blood on the ritual diagram.


    The demon was pinned by magic and supernatural principle, freeing Orison to deal with the horde of lesser demons intent on pushing their way through. Some were sucked up into the young mage''s devouring intent, still gas-like from stepping through the portal while stronger ones with ripped up skin in the shape of a hand print found themselves partially flung into the diagram, where magic and supernatural principle slid and locked them into other positions within it.


    Within the pyramidal diagram, Roy and Garret were getting into position on the brightly glowing symbols, flanked by raving demons as they fired or swung weapons respectively. A bit closer to the large demon in the center, Stag took his spot while looking cynical and a little sad. Gan took his spot on the other side, closest to the top and staring down the demon he''d injured as it snarled and spoke words so defiled that they caused the air to blister and minds that heard them towards evil thoughts.


    Distracted by the lack of Gurrut''s presence where he was supposed to be, Orison sent out his spirit sight to find that the orc blooded young man had slightly lost himself to blood lust by the slaughter and demonic influence in the air. Drawing on the ashen hand mark on his arm, the young mage sent a clear intent directly to Gurrut''s spiritual seat to get himself where he was supposed to be. Done with that, he had no choice but to leave things to fate because his time in devouring form was almost expired.


    Reaching into the gate orison grabbed a chain on the left-hand side, eating through it as small clawed hands tried to grasp at him earning themselves injuries. With a yank, a partially mummified person dragged itself on the ground, away from the gate. With a split second glance to make sure he''d grabbed the ''right'' person, he leveled as much directed spiritual intent at the one still on the other side of the gate as he could.


    "You want to live. Take control of the essence and pull the gate there," Orison demanded.


    Soul cracked and spiritual seat damaged beyond recognition, the ''other mummy'' complied almost mindlessly. While the mirror''s image blurred to a new location, Orison canceled his form, feeling weak and decrepit from age internally. The forced warping of the Abyssal gate had taken quite a bit of his power and life force to accomplish.


    Flinging a hand behind him while he kept his eyes glued to the mirror surface, the young mage pulled out a downy feather and threw it like a dart at the partially mummified person at the tip of the pyramid formation. "By this sign of your favor, restore this mortal within the bounds of this token''s sacrifice."


    Naked, shivering and traumatized, Santos looked around him as Orison bellowed, "No time for sight seeing, brujo. Take control of the ritual diagram and activate it... Now!"


    While he barked orders at the man, Orison reached past the mirror''s surface. Channeling a good deal of the loose miasma around him to form a black, light absorbing net to snag the contents of the small chamber, he dragged them through the mirror gate and used the miasma to shut it down. Turning with a smile on his face, the young mage checked Santos''s progress to find that the man was peppered with caster bullets.


    Filing into the temple was a number of Rowdies wearing the Wingright family crest. Gan returned the favor with three rapidly fired arrows that took out one as the other two bounced off shimmering fields of light. As Orison attempted to twist the miasma around him into a ''Sanctuary'' effect, a towering giant of a demon appeared in the room.


    Nodding to himself as if he saw it coming, Stag began shedding a powerful verdant green glow as he started turning translucent. "Unbar the doors to the Summer Lands, Great Ancestor."


    While the Wingright acquisitions team was opening fire, the demon crowed in booming amusement. "You thought you could ''steal'' a claimed Abyssal Will?"


    Simultaneously, Orison and Stag spoke at once.


    The young mage replied bitterly to the demon as magic propelled bullets shredded his team, "You would be surprised to how close I came to succeeding."


    With a physically silent shout of words heard by every soul present, Stag intoned, "Open, gates of reincarnation!"


    Though it couldn''t be seen, a heavy scent of apple blossoms filled the air along with other, just shy of unpleasant, smells of abundant and fertile nature. The red moon created landscape buckled and rolled like a large boulder dropped into a pond before stabilizing. The giant of a demon turned towards the translucent, green haired man and twisted a large amount of dark, dull red energy before he and every other person in the room was hit by a shockwave of emerald spirit essence flavored with a sprinkle of potent faith power.


    Protected from the brunt by the presence of the giant demon, Orison felt himself fill with a strong rejuvenation before his eyes were drawn by a shifting in the light eating net he held. While everyone was stunned with whatever Stag had done, Orison drew enough miasma that he knew most of the scenery outside had collapsed back to normal. A metallic, rune covered box lay in his hand that glinted ominously.


    "Thank you, Al''s misspent past time," he mumbled as he loaded three struggling orbs into the box.


    A large and angry red one looked fit to break free but the power of the box sucked it inside. Soon after joined by a feeble pearly one that felt pure and a slightly stronger but still feeble gray one. With the power of the growing misty and illusionary miasma around him, he activated the transmutation box inspired from some gory dungeon crawler game.


    Only able to be pieced together later, his action had a significant effect on the giant demon. With its connection to the planar will severed, the demon fell to around the same level as the one in the diagram. The demon began looking youthful and more humanistic as well. Orison highly doubted that was a good thing from the demon''s perspective.


    Many other things were happening but the young mage only took a split second to sort things out in his head before moving to action. Grabbing the mirror once more, he used the wispy miasma still left to drive through the mirror and connect to another source in another reality. Less than a second later, potent miasma, clear of demonic taint flooded the nearly invisible temple, expanding it into a vista of amalgamated parts.


    Beginning to recover, a Wingright person attempted to open fire only to find out that he couldn''t. His rifle had turned to chunks of ore in his hand and some force was taking hold to keep him rooted to where he was. Looking around at his other team members, he saw that two were missing and one had been turned into a primate. He was also very young, around ten, and the two who had stood staggered in front of him were a toddler and a baby respectively.


    Santos, returned from the recently departed and still dazed worked off of last fuzzy thought. He activated the ritual. Miasma began pouring through the framework. The demons became charcoal filters catching all the unwanted particles and active, parasitic parts of the miasma while the cleaned parts were filtered to Orison''s team.


    While continuing to work on his own projects, he looked over with hope that the power would serve to bolster and safeguard Stag but there was no Stag, only a wilted piece of feather grass that turned to dust as he watched. Holding back the grief for when he had the luxury to explore feelings, outside of life and death struggles, he poured his focus into what he was attempting to accomplish.


    Once again, the area around him dimmed and became illusionary as a huge blue glowing crystal pulled from the wall on his side of the mirror while a warm orange one formed on the other. Both were covered in ornate metalwork and magic symbols but Orison only cared about what they would do for his space as he fused them into it. Devouring force churning with a ferocity that Orison hadn''t been able to illicit from it before, he vaguely felt the addition of invisible chains similar to his living laws. The usually almost completely dormant shadow in his bones practically screamed in joy at how ''right'' such things were to claim.


    With his team, minus Stag, recovering and taking charge of the situation behind him, Orison reminded them not to move from their spots. Making sure there was plenty of reserve for things he needed to do later, the young mage created a small stack of books and a few black balls with mysterious purpose. Once done with that, he turned back to the transmutation box that just broke.


    The three orbs didn''t fuse but they all had a much more neutral feel. One was still bent towards dark ends but not nearly as twisted. One was so neutral feeling that he wondered if it would turn into a world will but it kept its mysterious ''afterlife realm'' like qualities.


    Carefully, he walked between lines towards the large but oddly youthful seeming demon in the center of his ritual diagram. As potent, corrosive power began eating the edges of the sanctuary effects protection for his physical existence, Orison struck a bargain with him. He would serve the one known as NoxFlora for a thousand-thousand years and his followers would be her soldiers and do the dark deeds a ruler must needs done. With the choice between being a military arm of a greater force or a painful, twisted death, it was a no brain-er.


    The demon''s payment for service was the darker neutral will orb which sang with joy to be away from the hands of its tormentor. Unable to enact treachery under the sanctuary effect, a geas sunk into the demon''s soul upon his flawless oath. For a sanctuary allowed no harmful action to be initiated but exchanges were inherently neutral. It was because of that, when a sizable amount of magically ignited explosive devices rained into the temple''s surroundings, they detonated harmlessly, merely adding more cycled essence to the whole.


    With mock pity, Orison ignored the hostile action and carried the dethroned demon lord over to where the other had been, laying him down gently. "There you go. You take a nice rest and be a good tap filter for us in a minute."


    Reaching up with the miasma, the young mage drew the assailants above into the ''safe'' arms of empty red symbols in the diagram. There were plenty to go around and few attackers to fill them. Among that number was a familiar face.


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "Mr Lacquer, I''m stunned... I thought we were on friendly terms."


    The man wanted to speak but his words were ''harmful''. It didn''t matter much to the young mage. As soon as the sanctuary effect was canceled, all the built up corrosive essence slammed into them all.


    Sparing a moment to check on Santos and promise to explain what was going on soon, the young mage waited until things had reached a certain point and had his team read the books he had conjured up from the miasma, only one per person, carefully crafted for them. After reading his own, a combination of magical spatial theory and a spattering of various other subjects, he relieved Santos to read one as well.


    Done with that, he waited until the brujo recovered enough to take the ritual back over and pulled out the purely neutral orb. Hanging onto it tightly, Orison offered it up to Sammy, provided that she touch him with the grace of her true presence. For a second, all was disrupted as reality buckled under the powerful presence of a gray winged angel flanked by two others that Orison knew were Justice and Liberty. Two cherub-like ones wheeled in the background while two more groveled and were begging forgiveness from their great-grandmother.


    As quickly as she came, she was gone with the lingering scent of sweet herb laced tobacco lingering in the air. Roy and Garret, who were at the back, weren''t nearly as ''touched'' as Orison had been due to Sammy being a smart and benevolent giver of ''attaboys''. Restarting the ritual, he had Santos join him in garnering the rest of what the remaining individuals in the diagram couldn''t handle on his side handle and the filters still could until they crumbled to poisonous dust and tar.


    Due to the nature of arrangements, since Gan wanted to go, he needed to go first. On the other side of the mirror portal was a deep underground area on Amoril that everyone could now pass in his team save for Orison himself. The reasons weren''t clear yet but he intuitively felt like he''d have the answer soon. Be that as it may, with his side a little shaky, their parting was a quick and unsatisfying one with the young mage willing the rest of the miasma on that side to the scout. He only asked that a quarter and no more of goods acquired to be given to Mama Yaya.


    Unable and unwilling to face Gan any longer, he called on Gurrut to summon his tribe. Unsurprisingly, the tribe had been ready to go a couple of days after his visit and had been waiting on the word. A lot more than Orison originally anticipated were going to stay but that was no longer his concern. He had fulfilled the promises he had made to their shaman in that alternate future for the grace of helping him recover from spiritual damage.


    While the final parting between brothers occurred, he had Roy recording what essentially looked like a misty cavern with a magical mirror portal in it. At the last moment, Gurrut asked Garret if he wanted to come. Garret said that he did but-. Gurrut waited for nothing further and reached through to forcefully pull the teen to his side right before the mirror cracked as it ran out of the power that Orison had allotted it.


    While he stared in shock, Orison felt a fluctuation of grayish silver essence and Santos was gone as well. Whatever had grabbed the brujo, it had sprung after having been in place for a very long time which didn''t make much sense but there was nothing to do about it. Looking at Roy and then the fairly empty expanse of muck and deadly dust piles, they young mage felt very empty himself.


    Using what remained of the miasma to create a few potions and brews, he suddenly felt frivolous. He used the remaining to create a hand held gaming system with a battery that was magic compliant and forced the rest of the miasma into it after making an over robe for Esme. Tossing one of the black marble-like balls he made earlier to Roy, he took one last look around.

 189 Country of Champions 40

    "I don''t want to touch those things but if you want to turn them in, I won''t stop you," he said.


    Tactfully, the equipment specialist packed them into the badge, remembering the story he had heard of what happened in the dormitory Orison had been held in. Roy knew what they were used to create and even though he''d not bring it up again, the young mage would see half of the merits garnered from their claim in his account later.


    "Where''s that pearly chrome ball you had earlier?" Roy asked.


    Orison shook his head. " I really need to get it together."


    He pulled it out from his ring and made a simple ritual to offer it to his spiritual daughter. There was so much extra dimensional noise in everything that he''d done, telling them apart would be next to impossible. What he didn''t expect was that the mirror behind him would flare back to life and Noxflora was standing on the other side managing to look sweet but creepy at the same time.


    "It''s flawed but it will serve it''s purpose, father. For what reason do you call me? I do not recall that you had anything but essence for me last time," she said.


    Orison walked quickly back to the mirror and said, "And you kept it. I... I''m not in the best frame of mind right now. I''m sorry. Here, this will help to balance things out and help you recover from the planar battle that happened between you and what''s his face. He''s dead now, by the way... Oh, you have a demonic lieutenant by the name of \u0026*^% too. It was a true oath under sanctuary, thousand-thousand years and all that."


    She looked at the neutrally aligned orb that somewhat rang of purity and said in sudden understanding, "Because I am two that are one, I can be one that rules two... I see."


    Trying to smile, Orison said, "I can''t be playing favorites when you''re both my girls, now can I? Even if you are only one person."


    As a single tear tracked down one dewy eye, Nox flora underwent a small transformation. Half her hair returned to Flora''s original color as the eye lightened to a slightly green tinted blue.


    One side of her lips curled into a faint smile as she said, "Uncle Ignatius and Auntie Zora have been working diligently to transform and manage a portion of my plane. They''ll be delighted to know that they only need worry about one half of my general population from now on. I''ll be happy that Consort Jimsonweed and that Jacob fellow will have something to keep them occupied that doesn''t hurt their delicate sensibilities."


    Frowning, Orison asked, "Who the hell is Jimsonweed?"


    "If he was anymore of such a thing, I think it would sicken me but I do care for the innocent soul. Some days it''s the only thing that let me fight the Abyssal Will. That won''t be so hard anymore but could I have your blessing? Could he?"


    Forehead tightening, he said, "It''s your life but isn''t he... I don''t know... too innocent?"


    She said, "We are of an age, he and I. That lets me experience the innocence that I was robbed of myself but we can''t blame that all on Herne. He is an Aspect of a crueler, more brutal age, where the rules of conduct were different. I do not hold hatred but I do not forgive either.


    "Our time grows short. You have questions? Speak them quickly before this portal completely fails."


    Orison only had two and they were very similar. "What happened to Ivan and... Do you know what happened to Zoe?"


    She said, "My son remains by my side until he is strong enough to travel his own path. Dying twice so quickly nearly made him lose all he had gained. I would wish to keep him by my side until I am strong enough to face his killer but the Black Magician is strong and it was merely an avatar we faced.


    "Perhaps as you become stronger, some time after you cross to our side of the dimensional divide, we can learn more about how to face him... it. To some degree, you have become a similar creature. In knowing yourself, we may gain insight into our enemy.


    "As for Zoe, it is not my secret to share. Who they have become a part of, were a part of before they existed, would not want such a thing to be known. Would it satisfy you to know that they are well and will soon have meaningful endeavor to lend their life new purpose?"


    Orison nodded. "Let them know... whoever they may be now, that their son is fully grown and walking a strong path of their own. They care a great deal about family too. Even chosen family. Zoe can take pride that it was probably something inherited from them."


    After agreeing to pass the message along, she said with a twinkle of mischief in their darker eye, "Do you not desire to know why you cannot ascend yet, despite all your gains?"


    Eyes widening, he quickly replied, "If you know, then yeah!"


    "You will know soon enough but-" another spiderweb of cracks ran across the mirror surface before it shattered.


    The last image he saw was of her devious smile.


    "What did I just witness!? You''re not going to kill me to silence me now, are you?" Roy said only half joking.


    Orison snorted as he walked to the repel ropes. "After all the trouble I went through and you being the only person I''m bringing back!?"


    As the specialist chuckled, the young mage could sense the tension level drop dramatically.


    Reaching up for his first pull, Roy interrupted him again. "Why are you wearing the ruby ring? I saw Gan leave to who knows where with than thing obviously on his hand. Who could miss it with the honking size of that ruby bulging under his glove so obscenely."


    As weird as the message that sent to him, made him feel, Orison couldn''t help but also feel a little better. Checking it, he saw that there were a few potions and even a couple of weapons that would most definitely survive the crossover if he would ever be able to succeed. There was a bit of curiosity how Gan had managed to do it until he realized that the ring was soul bound.


    Letting out a weak laugh, he said, "That a**hole one-upped me."


    Roy, thinking that he was the one being talked to said, "What? How?"


    "Well, I threatened him on vague consequences about what would happen if he took this ring off before he died and he bound it to me so that if I die, it''ll still be with me. Pfft. He probably just wanted the damn dog and horse. I just got Nibbles back too. Custody thief."


    Looking at the note one more time, he didn''t know whether to laugh or cry. It basically said that marrying Halda or someone like her wasn''t cheating because Orison wanted a girl too. The young mage couldn''t argue that if Halda was willing to accept Gan, she would probably be ecstatic to have someone like Orison around. If he was still unattached, at any rate.


    The whole thing gave him the strong message that Gan wasn''t happy to leave things on a passive note. It insinuated that, far from only not needing to seek the scout out, Gan might actively pursue HIM when he got back home. It scared him a little for a second.


    Feeling the time crunch, Orison was about to climb the rope when his instincts tingled in growing alarm.


    Urgently, he said to Roy, "Put that black bead I just gave you to the back of your neck. The man hesitated for a second but shrugged and stuck it on. Not paying attention, Orison did the same not realizing he''d picked the wrong bead from the ring. Instead of the muscle fiber-like nanocarbon exoskeleton suit that Roy was wearing, he was wearing a streamline and a little too form fitting one that had him quickly putting his trusty over robe back on.


    It was too late to change. And like the ring, it extended into the spiritual side of things and imprinted on his spiritual seat''s bridge, just outside of where the devouring intent would have chomped on it. Far enough in to follow his soul if he were to expire. It had even ''adopted'' his over robe. Mid-dimension miasma coating and grafting connections from it to the ''teaser'' suit that gave a bit more flavor to the nickname.


    "Thought of everything, didn''t you, perv. If I want to be naked, I''ll be naked. If I want clothes on, I don''t still want to feel under dressed. What am I, a college wrestler turned big city vigilante!?" Orison said, slightly annoyed and upset with himself that he had temporarily let go of his grieving feelings for Stag, who''d sacrificed himself to save everyone.


    Distracted by that thought, it hadn''t occurred to him how easy it had become to climb until he realized he was burning through his reserves fairly quickly. It was about what he expected levitation would cost in the mid dimensions. Then it clicked. He was levitating, slowly if not for the hand over hand action speeding it up.


    Seeing the young mage pull ahead so easily, Roy discovered the boon of his own suit as well, externally assisting pseudo musculature and tendon support. He was making creepy chuckling sounds as he bound up the rope more quickly than Orison. Roy tried hard not to gloat at the person who made it and gave it to him while literally looking down at its creator.


    The young mage looked up and said, "Save those bursts for emergencies. It recharges off of body heat thermal and some solar. Which is to say, slow as hell."


    He would have said more but an explosion blew Roy several feet away. "Exploding caster rounds!? Who is it now!?"


    Orison popped over the edge while whipping up the edge of his over robe to provide some cover. The exploding round still clipped him and he was bodily knocked back to where Roy was laying unconscious but still breathing. Barely not in a state of critical condition him self, he line of sight teleported at tremendous cost. Two more later and he was down to his last quarter of reserve, popping some healing for the both of them.


    Looking back where the shots came from, he didn''t really have hopes of catching sight of their assailant, as focused as he was to get out of harm''s way. The visor of his helmet did offer some magnification but they had covered quite a bit of ground due to his rapid increase in spacial understanding granted from his ''skill book''.


    It wasn''t how Orison had planned on stress testing the suit he''d designed but it had done an amazing job. A few pieces of shrapnel made it through but only skin deep after having lost most of it puncturing power and judging by the blister at the graze sight, had more to do with the heat. Very little bruising either. The helmet absorbed all of the head strike against rock but without some more precision healing, the specialist''s neck was going to be a hot mess of hurting.


    "Roy, get up and radio Captain Rogers. We can''t pass video but we can give him a heads-up. I have little doubt someone is playing trouble maker with our story as we speak. We aren''t going to get a chance to defend ourselves unless we get ahead of them," Orison said insistently.


    A little glassy eyed and wincing, Roy radioed in and gave a concise report, declaring event footage. Of course, it was edited some, he admitted off radio, but how the equipment specialist managed that was a mystery. The only trick was reaching the fort safely to turn it in.


    The Captain''s reply back was fairly dire but not overtly hopeless. According to a survivor report, a ten year old with two small children swaddled to his back, Orison was a demon worshiper who sacrificed Wingright family members, and even Mr Lacquer, to them for the favor of biological immortality. He used his own identity and age as proof of some success.


    Orison had Captain Rogers access the records of the party night that were on file and the eye witness reports. He knew how to turn invaders into supplements and if Mr lacquer and his team hadn''t came to kill and rob him, they wouldn''t have been targeted by the ritual. He had closed a demon portal and was bringing back proof of that as well.


    "Thank the lawd you grabbed those disgusting bits of demon artifice, Roy. They''re proof we''re not cults but heroes," Orison said.


    "They''re also worth a bucket load of merits," Roy replied, somewhat shrinking under Orison''s scowl.


    Orison fed them each a stamina potion and downed an instant magic refill potion before doing two more line-of sight teleports to reach a still standing module not taken down by the instructor''s team. Making his way in, the young mage read and calculated the directional symbols and figured out which line of ley transport would make them appear in the fort. With a push, they disappeared and flashed the remaining distance.


    As soon as they appeared, caster bullets were bouncing off them in every direction while the Captain told the men firing to stand down, being ignored. Tired of laying low, Orison gathered up the full power of his spiritual bloodlines and shouted himself. The few soldiers nearest instantly lost consciousness and several more feet behind them, they were dazed. Only the strongest or most distant were unaffected but there was a deathly still and silence gained.


    Still wielding awe and fascination, he shouted, "We close a demon portal and someone tries to rob and murder us with bullsh*t lies!? You stupid f***s better pull your heads out of where the sun doesn''t shine before you end up joining an Irregular''s crew after this is done.


    "Wait for the investigation. There''s going to be some high families doing death marches in the Mire before this is over! Don''t be suicidally dumb enough to join them there!"


    There was some back and forth but once they saw that Orison wasn''t going to do something dumb to incriminate himself, a detractor tried to force him to. In the distance, a sniper that Orison desperately hoped wasn''t the same one from before, shot an exploding round aimed at him. In the confusion, others with Wingright or Lacquer family badges began shouting inane slurs of seeing him pull something out or preparing some kind of killing spell, opening fire again. But they only hit open air while Orison applied yet another round of healing on himself and Roy from the comfort of the Captain''s office.


    Raiding around, Orison found the emergency chain battery and used the secret hatch under the captain''s bed to get to the ''rip room''. Placing the battery within, he made a distress call to the stabilizer warehouse. A familiar voice of a cranky older man was on the other side.


    Orison cut through the BS the man was trying to throw at him by saying that people were going to die and he''d be held responsible for the delays. Patched through to Aurora''s secretary, the closest available, Orison quickly relayed the message of what was happening and why. before he could finish, he was hung up by a shift of outgoing messages from the currently opened rip.


    Quietly, they hid back in the secret corridor while all and sundry searched for the ''demon worshipers''. It wasn''t his first rodeo but it still galled him how easy it was for the powers that be to set the narrative and it became an uphill struggle to clear a name. Despite the active murder attempt committed in front of everyone, their fleeing became admission of guilt.


    While they waited and rested, eventually, the Captain made his way down for the same purpose as themselves but he couldn''t find his chain battery. Putting two and two together, he placed trusted men at his office door and private quarters door, then went to investigate. His approach was far from a surprise and Adam was expecting them to be there.


    As soon as the captain went to speak, Roy cut him off by uploading the video to the captain''s communicator implant. It was a little tough for the specialist because he was holding the bits in his hand. The blast of Stag''s had ''naturalized'' him among other amazing feats, primarily raising him from the immediate dead.


    The two Blood Moon teammates stayed put as Captain Rogers went to give a sending of his own on a channel that wouldn''t be blocked. having access to military receivers that Orison knew nothing about and Roy couldn''t imitate with his gear experiencing out-of-body technical difficulties, the captain not only loaded the video that Roy had given but also reports from the trial and cctv recordings of what happened in fort.


    Even under the lightest of slaps on the wrist, the Wingright family and Lacquer family would be suspended from independent operations in any of the eight planar holdings for a minimum of a year for disregarding military authority. It was definitely going to be much worse than that but Orison found it comforting to know where the bottom line was.

 190 Country of Champions 41

    And in the end, that''s what had done it. In the other future, Mr Lacquer was a upstanding member of Avalon society and accomplished a great deal of positive things but currently he was a bitter man, grieving the betrayal of his wife and suffering under resource shortages. After Firebrand had his fit and made some poor decisions, Mr Lacquer got the bright idea to join the struggle to seize some of Blood Moon''s gains.


    He personally knew that the young mage was up to something big and was in the know about Orison being a returner from an alternate future. He needed gains and fast but he had no personal connections with Orison. So, when he had managed to snag a scion of the Wingright family for his daughter, he leveraged that weight to bring a team here as well. It was cake to spin a fantasy to whip up the jealousy of a young man who didn''t know his fiance well but had thin skin.


    Where the man had screwed up was thinking he had a week and suddenly the young mage started throwing unknown aces left and right. Things had escalated well beyond what the man had originally planned for but he kept digging deeper trying to dig out rather than fess up. It had become not only a matter of failing resources but grand theft and attempted murder.


    The bait that Orison had laid for the man had been too juicy. Not only the resources but the ritual. Mr Lacquer planned on leveraging that against fear and temptation to get his way but originally had only planned on only roughing up the young mage''s team.


    The two things that seriously confused the young mage were how the man was in camp and alive when Orison would swear to anyone who asked that the man had dusted in the cavern. Then the young mage thought about ''Trick Shot''s specialty, illusion magic. There was no telling who had died there and Orison had his hands too full to do a detailed spirit sight search.


    He wondered why his abilities had such a glaring weakness for illusion when it seemed to him that they should be a strength. He also officially hated illusion magic. More than anything, at the moment, he wanted to send Mr Lacquer to Noxflora''s Abyssal paradise with some special instructions. Understanding the whys and even sympathizing with them a bit wouldn''t bring back Stag.


    Using some kind of code, the person sending communications switched to a private channel but Roy pegged it in under a minute. The next piece of cold news was that, Firebrand had been removed from detainment where he was receiving medical care and asked to join the search. When the man said he''d rather die than tarnish his legacy over obvious and easily discredited trash logic, Mr Lacquer had killed him and used it as ''proof'' that Orison was a Mesmer capable of controlling minds and how no one who had been alone with the young mage could be trusted.


    Thinking in advance, he even set up some plausible cause, stating that Orison had been alone with Triumvir LeStrange on more than one occasion. Slowly but surely he was building a life raft for himself that he could use to escape the flood of crap he stirred should he fail. Sadly, those who were taking the ride with him now were going to drown in it.


    Suddenly there were reports that Orison was spotted killing people. Strangely, they were Captain Rogers'' most loyal men. The huge loss of support that Firebrand had caused him were fired up as Captain Rogers shouted Mr Lacquer''s specialty magic, recasting doubt. As Adam shouted that it made no sense for Orison to kill people protecting him, Mr Lacquer had ''Orison'' come out from behind a building to snipe the Captain with an exploding round. Spotted too late, the Captain took one to the chest and lost his life.


    Immediately afterwards, Mr Lacquer stated that the young mage was covering the tracks of his mind control. Only the ensorceled would protect a demon cultist. Other rhetoric spilled out of the man''s mouth but he was shut up when the real Orison showed up on the transport circle to shoot a feather to the Captain and promptly disappear.


    With a swirl of fragrant tobacco scent, the Captain was alive, if not in so great a shape. The Wingright personnel present immediately went pale and began distancing themselves from Mr Lacquer. It took several minutes of flimflam to weaken their sudden aversion but by then, the rip was opened and T3 swat were surrounding the place. Fearing that the man would escape, Orison laid down a swirling spiral formation circle cast from the ruby ring and saw a spectral version of Mr Lacquer standing still with a smirking face.


    Angered beyond belief, the young mage quick cast two successive degree shifts followed by one from the ring, stacked right on the man. The sudden sickening drop of temperature knocked the man out and would have killed him outright if not for some speedy intervention from a very much alive Firebrand. As the rest of Mr. Lacquer''s illusion unraveled, Orison realized that several things weren''t as they seemed but it didn''t matter much because T3 was taking charge of the situation and Mr Firebrand might have it out for Orison but whatever scheme he''d cooked up with ''Trick Shot'', it came to a screeching halt the moment he was pulled ''back from the dead'' in plain sight.


    As he realized the person tied to a pillar was one of Firebrand''s men brought back by the precious feather, the young mage gritted his teeth in sickening hatred of illusion magic. On the plus side, the man was heavily grateful and singing like a canary about the conversation he''d overheard that got him ''volunteered'' for martyrdom to begin with. That was T3 business and the whys or hows of a failed scheme had little interest to anyone but them.


    Using spirit sight, Orison found the captain. He also found that Adam HAD been under some kind of mental manipulation. Within a few minutes of being captured, a hidden mentalist within Lacquer''s camp had started tinkering with the captain''s recollection of events. Under the watchful eye of a T3 magic specialist, the young mage cast a ''Remove Curse'' on him that didn''t completely clear up the issue but had the man relatively back to himself and out from under the spun tripe of the mentalist.


    Over the next few days, the entire expedition of Blood Moon through the Barrens had been hashed, rehashed and trouble shot. T3 had experience with untangling the lies and deceptions that an illusionist or a mentalist could individually repaint into truth. That process turned into a tangled horror for the victims and witnesses when they worked in tandem.


    It threw a great deal of Mr Lacquer''s dealings into question. Even the future knowledge that Orison had of the man made a darker kind of sense when viewed under such light. Particularly how the man had crawled out of his bad situation there.


    While the investigation was running tiring circles around him, the young mage had to deal with Aurora''s serene but far more terrifying interrogations where he was forced to spill just about all he could without giving away vital and damning parts. It didn''t help that he was tripped up and beaten a few times in the process but he took the lumps as his due and managed to even get some guilt relief from the suffering.


    Knowing Aurora, it could have been part of her plan all along. She was used to dealing with powerful and stubborn people who wouldn''t get the help they needed. She was also used to being the help when people couldn''t find outlets for things they simply couldn''t share. Orison was a ''B-train'' double trailer semi-truck full of both.


    In the aftermath, a few good things came from all the terrible ones. In a worked out deal/ cease fire between Orison and Firebrand, Adena was given over to the custody of her aunt Genevieve. He swore an oath under Aurora''s watchful eyes to not involve himself in any way intentionally, the young mage''s personal or professional life.


    Orison had to make some promises of his own to avoid repercussions for costing Firebrand his manhood but he retained the satisfaction of knowing that the expensive replacement therapy couldn''t restore fertility. The man had a problem with that to begin with but it had become a sealed deal. In a strange way, that knowledge seemed to mellow the man out a little and directed his focus on his grandson.


    In a private moment, Aurora shared, "I find myself enjoying your particular brand of cold and balanced truth and that scares me. We should associate less. You disrupt the purity of my desired truth."


    "Since it is both Gavati''s and your truth to desire no interaction, I will assure it somewhat. Your intentions and the positive outcome of them do not erase your disregard for others'' truth in the moment but the balance of reality''s truth can never be ignored. Not without grave consequence.


    "She desired I share a truth with you that she finds baffling and hoped you could help her with through me. She says that Pelenel was an older woman who transformed herself into a boy to avoid detection of her husband''s ''origin''. She gave up the ability to return to original form in an effort to save Gavati''s life by giving her the other vial Pelenel had.


    "Their evolving relationship over many long years and the loss of Gavati''s memories complicate the matter. She shared with me that you were close with Pelenel, like family. Can you help me with this effort to help Gavati with her truth?"


    Slightly entranced but unaware, Orison said, "We share a similar fey heritage and that is the cause of that familial sensation, according to Pelenel. It is that same heritage that caused friction between me and Gravat. I haven''t personally met another tribal fey of my same lineage other than my own... that''s private. I will tell you that the name of our shared heritage is Danann and would appreciate it if you didn''t push further."


    Shaking her head, Aurora said, "I miss Dr. Odd. He was always so much better at untangling these knots. Do you know when he''ll return?"


    Orison shrugged. "I don''t know if he can but the merge will bring a lot of things back or us to them depending on viewpoint and the winner between the struggle of world wills."


    Looking sad, Aurora said, "Once, it was a certainty that Beta Prime would win the struggle but the consequences were too dire for all that lived on this world. That''s when the artifacts came. The Eye of Time, The Weird and whatever it is that the Third Triumvir uses that has no specific truth, they were sent to us from Alpha Minoris to help save lives but I think that The Eye of Time was sent to reverse the winner of wills.


    "The constitution of Avalon has a set date when the Triumvir is supposed to disband into a democracy. The date that was set, it is my truth that date was the original time of merging. Use of The Eye has shortened the nearness of that event many times over."


    Orison said, "Be brave. The truth I''m about to share is not an easy one. It wasn''t just The Eye. The Eye''s effect is the easiest to define but The Weird actively seeks to find instances where a great good can be accomplished at the cost of Beta Prime''s resources or secondary supports. It then subtly helps bring those things to someone''s attention.


    "The Caged Sun, for lack of a better name, assists with the conversion or integration of tech and magic, as you know. For the cost of life force, even a mundane person can lift and fire a caster gun, seal or hold open a rip and so on. What it doesn''t help with is bring those costs to an efficient level because the excess is channeled to it and up to Alpha Minoris.


    "No reason to do anything about it this late in the game. The panic the loss of the items or leaders would cause greatly outweighs any small amount of good. In fact, The Eye''s usage actually limited the amount of overall harm to Beta Prime the other items could have caused and helped to strengthen individual existences through the echoes time transposition creates. More people will survive the merge because of that."


    As they shared, Orison had to avoid certain topics, not only for himself but for her. Aurora had a strong intuition and it was absolutely true that spending too much time around him would result in the accumulation of a rare version of ''structure poison''. It was one caused by conflict of reality views and understandings. It was something that had slowed down Orison''s study and accumulation from the books in his possession from the mad hermit.


    His problem with some of the books almost entirely centered around the importance of free will. The world that the hermit had came from did not respect that at all, actively supported that all things were fixed and that freedom was an illusion. Greater reality didn''t support or enforce such things but individual realities might. A person who strongly supported an opposing ideal would find themselves adverse to or even unable to see a way to such a place. But if their structure was ''poisoned'', they might find themselves trapped in a hostile environment that caused their understandings to become muddled and lose progress or their abilities altogether.


    Orison saw truth as a subjective and gray area term whereas for Aurora it was objective and had definition. A portion of her supernatural comprehension was centered around those clear definitions as it''s structure. She wasn''t ''wrong'' for doing so from Orison''s point of view. The moment a structure was built, flaws were going to be present no matter what was used.


    This came down to another part of Orison''s structure that provided flexibility and allowed for challenge to certain parts without harming his structure. That was ''inherent flaw''. If a stronger and more convincing person came around to support ''inherent perfection'' then listening and conceiving doubt in his belief in the inherent flawed nature of reality, it would be structure poison.


    Packing that away and focusing on what he needed before they''d part ways and begin avoiding each other, Orison said, "There''s two favors I need and I have a large favor to give in return."


    Aurora put on an attentive face and the young mage continued. "I need a Reese Rover four seat hover disk and I would like for you to pre-approve the addition of two citizens. Jay Cotton and his niece Harley Monroe. He''s a one year employee of a Five Nations Preservation Society sponsored nursing home near Talihina by the Kiamichi River. I''m bad with the district numbering system but it was called Oklahoma before.


    "Jay''s no one special but his niece is. She''s autistic. Not an overly important fact in and of itself but I know that she would survive two years in the UTF''s Kaleidoscope Program they secretly reopened last year. There''s SOMETHING special about her, just not something the M-bars can pick up... We''ve only got a month, maybe less, before she''s selected."


    Her eyes slightly widened. "From what you know of this girl, does she do anything obsessively?"


    Orison''s brows furrowed. Remembering that he had wanted to do something for the guy who worked at the nursing home but got to it a bit too late to really matter was fringe of the knowledge he brought back. That piece of side info about Harley was all he knew about her. He didn''t even bring back what the girl looked like.


    One thing that Jay said, due to being around the same time as an important event WAS remembered. "Jay had a tin cookie box filled with colored pencil nubs. She would get upset if he threw them away. Even though it wasn''t worth the time, it made her happy when he found ways to make the remaining stubs useful... That''s all I got."


    Aurora said a little edgily, "Do you know what the Kaleidoscope Project is?"


    He shook his head. "I know jack diddle about what the UTF was up to and only know that detail because of Jay."


    "How does he know!?" she said, visibly agitated, which wasn''t like her at all.


    He shrugged. "A lot was going on at the time and he was a side note kind of thing."


    It was like she had forgotten that Orison was there. The Weird was buzzing as she prepared to head an expedition to Talihina.


    "You''re going to scare them half to death for no good reason, Aurora!" the young mage attempted to advise.


    Suddenly remembering his presence, she said, "You''ve got your clearance for the Reese Rover but it''s on your merits. Tell Juniper your favor. Is this Jay person a friend, lover or an important team member to you?"


    "A little of the first one only. I just wanted to help him out," Orison said woodenly.


    Aurora said, "I''ve got them. Don''t worry about it."


    He was dismissed. After dropping off a list of all the people he could remember who had ''fluffy souls'' and wouldn''t survive the merge of worlds, he went to get his magic flying saucer. The whole way, he had to suppress the urge to creepy grin.

 191 Country of Champions 42

    The equipment specialist had spent the last few days, taking apart what could be, letting Orison tinker and then putting it back together. At first he was stunned and terrified that the young mage was going to break it and instantly make them poor again but then he learned that the Blood Moon maverick team WAS poor. Their fearless leader had bought it.


    Roy didn''t know what to say. He and Orison were independently well off by their starting standards but it wasn''t much in the long run. The team funds HAD been roughly around ten times more than they individually owned. There were far more useful ways to invest it to grow a standard team into something better but he knew that each step was a means to some end and just went with the flow.


    "He could have called it the Sticky Dust Effect and he''d have been better off. I heard a Wingright person who came over the other day to drop off some apology goodies say that he was going out to get a can of Fog Gorge sticky dust spray a couple of days ago. In the end, a scientist can name things what they want but it''s the people that use whatever product that''s produced from that research that have the last say." the young mage said offhandedly.


    Roy sighed. "It was a gesture of appreciation, Orison. You know, something nice people do that actually proves that they''re nice."


    Orison snorted. "That nice gesture only earned ME the hatred of the Dirk family. Dr. Cooper would have been just fine but an acquisition group that spreads secrets... that''s a different story. If it wasn''t for my age and history, they''d probably want me dead. Their maverick team''s been using that trick for years already."


    The specialist asked, "Then how come that big old slice of awesome was ripe for the pickings? How come they didn''t find it?"


    Orison chuckled. "Who says they didn''t make some attempts? Considering the size of these planes, how much do you think it would cost the Dirk family to use that trick to cover every triple skull area? They only use it on visually confirmed resource locations.


    "The only reason I added it to the list of innovation reveals was because we needed a cover. Gan and I don''t need that crap and the Irregular team would have suffered casualties trying to follow us without it. It won''t change much of anything in the long run."


    Suddenly thoughtful, Roy asked, "I''ve got a question for you. Why do you think that a plane''s landscape visually extends past where the walls are? What is it we''re really seeing?"


    "If the plane you''re on has a will, you''re seeing a piece of the past that will move slower and slower until it''s not moving anymore and becomes a static picture. If your plane has a shard, then different places around the wall will show you a memory of the past that may or may not move, an actual past that also may or may not be moving or the present if the shard on the other side is active and still possesses the ability to ''share'' with other shards.


    "Functionally dead planes aren''t much better than a memory themselves. They''re like the ghosts of worlds. The dimmer that memory gets, the weaker that wall becomes until it collapses completely. Then you get to ''see'' what''s actually just on the other side of that wall. Mostly just an instant eternity of dark nothing but sometimes something scary. There might be a pleasant surprise every once in a next to never but that''s not a lottery ticket I want to buy."


    Roy stared blankly at Orison for a moment before he said, "Oh... Well, I''ll be sleeping well tonight... What are we doing next? The investigation''s finally done and you had me accept your medal for you. There''s not a lot going on here anymore."


    Orison released some of his inner weariness. "The next thing WE are doing is taking this contraption for a spin in Echo Mire. I haven''t stopped DOING. There are tons of boring but scary important things I had to get on a lot faster because of the speed-up to when the worlds merge."


    Roy looked at him skeptically.


    "Coded messages, counter espionage, setting up some escape hatch fail-safes, the next ripple is going to be a doozy. I needed to make sure certain pieces were in place. If Mr Lacquer hadn''t lost his marbles, I would have had to find a way to get back faster anyway," the young mage said, all the while looking at the parts of the Reese Rover still left to reattach.


    The equipment specialist got back to work but kept talking. He asked about refilling team members, if that Trisha girl or Esme were going to be stopping back by again. The young mage didn''t have any recruitment ideas and Trisha wasn''t coming back because Esme''s dad tried to kill him and the two were a package deal.


    Esme was only a one time stop by to apologize and see what Trisha said he had for her. The moment Orison handed the young Ms Lacquer the over robe, he''d closed the book on those possibilities. Not that they had been much. Wryly, Orison had mused that he wasn''t cut out for being casual with intimacy. He hadn''t known the girls for long but it would be some time before even the small shadows they had cast would be completely gone from his mind and heart.


    Roy said, "Oh, they aren''t going to be stopping by again? I figured the way that Trish girl looked at you and how long she visited that she would definitely be coming back."


    The young mage shrugged. "If she does, it''ll be a back door visit and I don''t think I''m alright with that. The Wingrights just got their little scion all calmed back down and friendly with me. If I start being Trisha''s dirty little secret while Esme''s trying to pull her his way so they can be a happy unit, I''m going to have to deal with a spoiled hot head flying off the handle at me again. Doesn''t matter if it''s him or Esme."


    A little hesitantly, the specialist asked, "When are we going to say a few words at the memorial? His name was added to the fallen heroes list. It an Avalon tradition thing."


    Orison said, "We can go now if you want. The gesture has no real meaning for me. Everything that made him... him was sacrificed to that thing he did. I didn''t even get to see off his soul core. It was just gone. They linger around for a few minutes usually but... maybe it had to do with what he did.


    "There''s a good chance he''s already living another life, waiting to be born somewhere. It seems kind of morbid and disrespectful to mourn his loss when we should be toasting to good fortune in his new life. Believe me. Dead people don''t stay that way.


    "In his case, maybe it''s best that he left everything behind. Don''t let his mindless seeming self indulgence fool you. That guy was a big ball of jaded disappointment and unprocessed pain."


    Frowning a little, Roy added, "If that was all there was to it, you wouldn''t be so tore up. Whether he''s off having the time of his life somewhere else, you lost a friend. You get to be sad about that."


    He didn''t want to think about it and tried to change the subject but Roy gently brought it back around.


    To stop that train of conversation, Orison said, "I plan on going to Nexus anyway. I''m going to pay a person that stays there to tell me where Stag is and I''m going to go see him if I can, pay him back somehow. That''s all there is to it. We can go to the memorial whenever but that''s that."


    When they had first returned, Roy had crashed over at the lake house for a couple of days and they talked about a lot of different things. When the issue of ''climbing'' was raised, the specialist didn''t have interest. He was thankful for everything the young mage had done but didn''t see himself enjoying reality jumping and mind bending adventures.


    There was some information in the ''skill book'' that Orison gave him that made him wake up with cold sweats and a racing heart. It had instilled a subtle dread in him. The mysteries of his own world and it''s future was a little more than he could bear on some days.


    "What about you and Julia. Since you''re turning your back on the greatest opportunity ever offered, are you thinking about maybe settling down now that you can live long enough to enjoy it?" the young mage offered to end Roy''s picking at his wounds.


    While they chatted, the specialist finished his mechanic work. Orison thought about what he wanted out of his remaining time on the world he found himself on. Months, maybe around a year and if he didn''t find whatever clue he was missing, not only would he not reach step and tier four, he''d die when he was forced to cross the boundary. His intuition had never been so clear on something.


    Their conversation was interrupted by a call from the Second Heaven transportation hub. Babs and her paternal grandfather were requesting permission to visit. In her usual brisk style, the twelve year old girl introduced Birgir Leifson and launched right into her reason for visit but was interrupted by the more sedate pace of her grandfather.


    "Call me Grandpa Booger... Ah, little girl. Why are you always in such a rush? We only just arrived. Let an old man and your host have a chat for a minute," Girgir said.


    Frowning but reluctantly nodding, she walked over to the kitchen fridge and helped herself. Orison took in the weather worn skin, shock of full white hair and still rough, calloused hands of his visitor while the man spoke his own peace. After some casual conversation and warm up that was perhaps polite but not altogether necessary, the man got around to his side of their odd request.


    Birgir said, "I''ve never saw a baby I didn''t really like on sight before. It''s strange but now I''ve met two. Little Bebba doesn''t seem to be bonding well with them either. On the other hand, I''ve never seen Janet make eyes at her other kids like she does at those twins. It''s like they brought out the mother in her."


    Orison said, "It''s a bloodline thing. It''s that light touch of animosity that probably brought Janet to your son''s attention in the first place. In her case, it was a touch of the same blood that runs much more strongly in those children. You didn''t feel it from her because your son... marked her in a sense."


    The old man sighed and said, "I have an extended visa to look after Little Bebba. If it''s an imposition or too strange, no hard feelings. But she suggested I ask if we could stay here while I visit for a few months."


    The young mage looked at Babs and said, "Fighting again? What''s it over this time?"


    She said, "What''s it always over? Merits. Garret left me more than what''s covered under the children''s personal property act. So, she just scooped up the rest and threw it into the twins'' funds since she couldn''t claim it for herself. Not that I care but she wanted me to add some of mine to it, some kind of dedicated gift account. As soon as I turn thirteen, I can open a gift card account of up to 20,000 yearly from my personal inheritances for so many people with such and such relationships. Blah, blah, blah.


    "Sonny, she''s going to MAKE me do it... He might come back. We''ve seen the video. She''s acting like he''s dead and I want to make sure that he has something if he does come back... Can I become one of those... Is it okay to say things in front of Grandpa Booger? I trust him always and everything!"


    Orison looked speculatively at the rough but kindly looking old man and nodded hesitantly.


    She said, "I want to be a climber so I can go get my brother or go wherever he''s going. I hate it here. I hate mom and I HATE GURRUT!"


    The girl''s calm and composed demeanor completely cracked and she cried like the heartbroken child she was. He had a hard time outright denying the girl but what she was asking for would be an added complication and dangerous on top. She was very young and Orison didn''t feel up to being responsible for a life at that age, especially with decisions of that great a magnitude.


    In the ensuing silence, he rolled it around in his mind and finally said, "Get the gaming system and take your brother''s room. In all of his stuff, I''m sure you can find things to keep your interest while I talk to your grandpa. If you want me to take your request seriously, you''ll listen to mine and your grandpa''s instructions just as seriously.


    Within a few seconds, she packed up and forced down all her dark and sad feelings. In almost the same amount of time she silently did as she was told with a cold face that didn''t quite manage to cover the grief she just tried to bury. It was a good thing in Orison''s eyes. If she could flip the switch like he could, he''d not really be able to fully trust her, as contradictory and hypocritical as that was.


    Looking around, he noticed that at some point, Roy had slipped out to be about his own business, having an allergy to family drama. The young mage was slightly disappointed, however. He was going to have the man check his house for ''bugs''. There were some things that could be played off as heritage secrets but there were things that Orison was going to have to share with the old man that no one could hear.


    "There''s a boat down at the dock. Feel like doing some light fishing, Grandpa Booger?" the young mage said a little awkwardly.


    Such a nickname was going to take some time to get used to.


    "Only if you have a touch of something to take the edge off. I ache from neck to kneecap. Trust me on this. Take care of what the maker gave you. You''ll pay for every ding and scratch when you get my age," Birgir said, chuckling.


    Smiling faintly, the young mage replied, "If I didn''t have enforced privacy out here, I''d have a line of older folks from here to the transport building asking for ''something to take the edge off''. I think I can find something to do the trick."


    Once they were out near a decent fishing spot, away from areas that might see some light trespassing from the dolphin siblings or their visitors, Orison laid out the abridged version of what a climber was while they sipped on a lightly medicinal brew.


    Done with that, he addressed her request and it''s difficulties with the old man. "The best opportunity I had to do so is past. I have maybe one or two ways to still do it but they aren''t as assured or guaranteed to be the best fit. The reason she has is emotionally valid enough for me but you know her better than I do. Does she have the fortitude and persistence to follow through when things get hard, dangerous or scary?"


    The old man looked out onto the water and said with a slow, almost mesmerizing quality to his voice, "There''s a lot of maybe to it that would give any reasonable adult pause. The best opportunities are always filled with maybe. I get the feeling that you''re dumping all this in my lap because if I agree that she should, I''m agreeing to a whole lot more than that. Am I wrong?"


    Orison smiled and said, "Nope. If she''s going to become a climber, it''s because you''re climbing beside her."


    The man smiled sadly. "An old relic like me? Gods, Lars. Look what your daughter''s dragging me into now... Young man, the spirit is willing but I''m past the expiration date. How can I not see what you''re getting at but if you don''t feel confident in keeping her safe while you do what you need to do, how do you expect me to?"


    The young mage said, "Oh, that''s not a problem. If you had the skill, I can get you the tools to use them again. That includes a body hearty and healthy enough to use those skills. What I''m trying to do, is justify the resources I''ll have to use to make that happen.


    "I''m not that angry at Gurrut. Hell, if Garret had decided to jump in himself I''d only feel a little put out. I hope this doesn''t come across the wrong way but what Babs is asking for isn''t as simple as a tutorial. It''s resources and knowledge. It''s bargains and responsibilities, even if I am trying to limit that last one by throwing some resources at you."


    The old man''s gaze over the water took on a hint of weariness. He was no stranger to the deals of the powerful. If someone wanted the best there was to be had, there was almost always an equally frightening price tag. The man had thrown everything he had into giving his son the best advantages and opportunities he could but fortune hadn''t favored his son.


    Birgir didn''t know if he had enough fire left in him to carry that little girl safely to her golden chance. He had some surety that Orison was quite a bit different from the man who had struck a devil''s style bargain with him, that cost him everything he had cared about in exchange for nothing more than a baby girl who he was almost powerless to help. But under all the polite words, a hint of another Faustian deal tickled his fears.


    The old man said, "I don''t really care what you want from me. I have so little of value left that it''s almost laughable you''d want anything at all. But what do you want from her?"

 192 Country of Champions 43

    "I want to know that Grandpa Booger can be Grandpa Boogie Monster if she''s being dumb because I may not have the time or attention span to stop her myself. The last thing I want on my conscience is a dead girl. Right now, that might be a little more than I can deal with."


    Blinking dully, Birgir said, "That''s it?"


    "Uh, what were you expecting? I mean, I figure that you don''t look like a person who''d be shy about throwing in an extra pair of hands where they''re needed. For the sake of convenience, I''d like to add you to my team roster."


    The old man burst out in laughter.


    After he''d got himself back under control, he said, "I don''t know what I was expecting but I almost feel ashamed about it now."


    Taking a serious cast, Orison added, "If I want dark deeds done, I find dark people. The only killing you might have to do will be self defense... Well, let''s say group self defense. For some reason, people think I''m easy to pick on and get very offended when I prove them wrong...


    "Whatever. You know how it is. When you got something good, the vultures start circling and the predators start stalking. Unlike in nature, these predators and vultures don''t have good instincts because they still won''t give up. It''s mostly bureaucratic at this point but who knows when some bowling pin will stand up for me to take some frustration out on."


    Cracking his knuckles, Orison said, "That''s alright. I''m about to bloody a whole bunch of noses at once real soon. If you are really down to make this official, you''ll have balcony seats. They''re pretty comfy ones too. When they made the Reese Rover, they didn''t start getting cheap at the features. It''s pretty fully loaded."


    Looking at Orison strangely, Birgir asked, "Do you even know what I did for a living?"


    As if the answer to that question only had meaning to him after the old man asked, the young mage said, "Well, I can tell you move like a someone who knows their way around a fight. What more do I need to know? Got some interesting skills to throw on your resume?"


    "I was a B list bounty hunter. Did some assassination work too. I''m one of the dark people you were talking about. I thought you knew," the old man said.


    There wasn''t pride on his face when he declared it. If anything, it was the opposite. He had done things that he was ashamed of.


    They talked on the lake for some time and Orison cracked a Doc Agave for him. It wasn''t one of the top shelf ones but the only real difference was a little more aging for flavor that the young mage couldn''t really appreciate much, being someone who didn''t particularly enjoy getting hammered. When Orison got him back to the house, the real ''fun'' began.


    Just about everything in the young mage''s augmentation arsenal aside from super rare was thrown at the grandfather/granddaughter duo. That included the crash course ''four days of hell'' that turned out to be only a little more than one for Babs. She didn''t have much toxin build up and had the fish tank treatment only a few years prior. That didn''t stop her from crying and making him feel like a terrible person.


    The young mage was glad that he had started out with some life extenders before he got started on the old man or Bergir might not have survived. Part way through the treatment, a weak and barely noticeable tremor ran through the world. He had Roy watch over their recovery and medicine schedule while he put in for a small vacation.


    Those who were sensitive enough to catch it or attentive enough to have set up devices capable of detecting such a thing, thought it was just another ripple but Orison knew better. The next ripple would be truly horrifying and thankfully was still some time away. In it''s own way, the tremor was just as terrifying but for a whole other reason.


    Three new planar rips had opened at the same time. Two of them Avalon was aware of extensively due to Orison''s divulging of information to Aurora. The third was something that would only grow in danger the more knew it existed and thankfully Aurora believed him.


    Despite that, it needed to be closed and not through the normal method. So, while Avalon was extended trying to stop an infernal invasion from breaking out in the prime ring of Australia and the Brazilian Archipelago, the young mage was taking a vacation to Halia, the island that formed from an underwater cluster eruption that wiped out the original Hawaii chain. As a friendly reminder that he was trusted but not without reservation, El and Em were sent with him.


    From their perspective, all it looked like the young mage had done was go there, pay a couple to camp on a private beach for a couple of days and then sit underwater for his who three day, two night stay. What they didn''t know was that for a brief moment he had went full devour form and had dealt with several waves of parasitic infections that were slowly drawn into his space as they appeared.


    Additionally, Orison had managed achieve a ritual work and a few sets of equipment on loan in his space to unmoor the rip he was covering the existence of and move it TO his space. There, it would spit out wave after wave of deadly creatures ranging from nearly microscopic to fist size. There wasn''t much else to do with it until the collection of aquatic horrors that called the planar fragment home figured that enough time had passed to reap rewards.


    There would be no controllable vessels, no surplus of psychic energy and spiritual essence to feed off of. There would be no one to see them and be imprinted, transitioning into a psychic parasite to keep from dying until they could force their host to drown themselves in the sea. They would just die.


    It wasn''t a permanent solution. A rip was a hole and the devouring swirl couldn''t eat a hole. Nor was it strong enough to forcibly pull the internals of that rip out once it opened wider. Ultimately, he had exchanged safety for the potential resources of that plane. A worthy trade in his mind, considering the lives and living space lost until The Weird aided Avalon in uncovering methods to drive the invaders to extinction. The costs to Beta Prime were incalculable in that other future.


    Until he could take the rip to a place where it could be disposed of properly, he did get some enrichment from the devouring of whatever decided to poke it head out til then. All things were going smoothly and the small amount of danger for carrying the rip in his space were manageable even if he died. His death would take the danger with him.


    And it seemed someone was readying an attempt. But before the sudden screaming increase of intuition driven warning reached ''inescapable'', a few extra merging shadows joined the occasional ones that had steadily added themselves from time to time since he came back. A small missile was stopped in mid air inches from the ground a few feet away as frozen time began ''rewinding'' in millisecond frames.


    A tired and slightly older LeStrange was standing in front of him, a different device in his hand. This one looked like a cube filled with a combination of circuitry both magical and mundane in nature. That cube reconfigured itself into the next platonic solid in the list, an octahedron. Aside from a small space around them, time stood still.


    "I want you to eat that and then we talk," The man said as he stared at the missile.


    "Can''t. Dispersed kinetic force will tear my physical body up as it passes through. Displacement of air will cause deviation and I won''t even absorb the whole explosion.


    Shouting angrily, Jacques said, "Three seconds, pull it in before I''m out of magic."


    Deciding to trust, Orison walked up to the missile and pulled it in. It was relatively small and LeStrange kept pace behind him. Despite precision control of their respective power usage, the young mage suffered a severe burn on his chest from the remaining heat at the tail end. He couldn''t hold devour mode for that long so soon after having used it previously and LeStrange''s magic ran out.


    Without waiting for a word, he line of sight teleported far away from their original location before doing it once more. Running into El and Em''s room he shut the door and let LeStrange start throwing out all kinds of orders over The Weird. The young mage was patient to wait until that was done before a rolling ripple, like a lake wave, lapped around the world.


    Eyes growing wide, Orison said. "Mass Dimensional Erasure Phenomenon in less than ten minutes! How far back did you travel!?"


    Jacques went blank for half a second and then started carrying out more orders, getting Aurora and the elusive Third Triumvir involved. Luckily, Aurora had a list of all the possibly disappearing people that Orison knew were important enough to care about in an emergency. Otherwise Avalon''s infrastructure would have been torn to shreds.


    Likewise, Orison had his own list and thought he''d have the time to get resources together to deal with it but with the sudden ''shrinking'' of time before ''First Stage Merge had disappeared with LeStrange''s return. He had created a list of priority targets for such a instance and released it to Roy. He told the equipment specialist to use the shrunk budget to get as many to the lake house as possible in the next few minutes with whatever resources there were on hand.


    He even asked for a personal loan from the man''s account to get more. Turner and the man''s family was on the list as well as a few others Orison had met. So, Roy didn''t balk too hard. Fortunately, there was some overlap between his and Aurora''s list or there would be some truly sad moments waiting in store after the ''Tsunami ripple'' came.


    "Please tell me we can use Sky Hook to get to my house. If not, questions are going to have to wait until after," Orison said, nerves ratcheted to ''fourth cup of coffee'' bad.


    The man nodded and ordered a Sky Hook drop. Within moments, they were at the lake house with Orison rushing to the basement while LeStrange continued pouring instructions to people over The Weird.


    "I don''t need to know anything right now on my end other than if I still have permission to go to Echo Marsh after this event is done. It imp-" Orison said before he was interrupted.


    "Yes. You have twenty-four hours and then you need to get your personal affairs wrapped up for a few weeks. We''re going to Shambahla," LeStrange said with a grave face.


    The young mage handed LeStrange a list and a potion. "Coordinate with Aurora and Roy. If there are people you are unsure about, ask. If everyone you care about is covered on the safe or unsafe but tagged for pick-up, please help me get some more of mine."


    Jacques sighed as he read over the list and joined Roy at the magic circle in the training room while Orison headed down to the basement of the lake house to charge up the massive formation under his property. It was a stressful few minutes. As the ripples built in surges and reality slightly buckled under the strain and metaphysical erosion, holding magic steady was more than specialists at the teleport station could handle.


    Panic and fear reigned over the world and nothing would be the same after. Mothers would walk into children''s rooms without recalling anything about a child, feeling a deep sense of loss. People would come home from work wondering why there were stranger''s possessions in their houses as people at home would wonder how they were surviving in the places they were without the income to support themselves.


    More rarely, a child or baby would be left unattended and have no discernible reason for being where they were. Almost always, it would be traced back to an adoption to phantoms. One of many problems government programs would creak under the strain of trying to solve on a scale far beyond what manpower would be available.


    For people like Aurora and Orison, who had other means of getting a collection of ''fluffy soul'' people over the first hump, there were different concerns to deal with. As the young mage eased the lake house property from being phased out, the survivors who were meant to disappear suffered a multitude of other problems. Weakness, premature aging and a collection of medical problems ranging from mental to physical needed to be dealt with.


    Adjustment insured survival but it was a painful one for most. Outside of the pains of forceful soul condensation and its attached effects the the body, there was the purely psychological burden of erased connections with the evidence of those connections left behind to be seen. And considering how much time had been squeezed together as time travel created a discord with the higher dimension still moving its stately course unhindered in any way, they wouldn''t have long before the second wave of merge induced problems would be introduced.


    Tossing LeStrange a slightly immature ginseng in a medical solution, the young mage said, "Who''s trying to kill me?"


    His mentor replied, "I don''t know. It''s impossible to find them but they will succeed. Each time it''s stopped, they get more elaborate until they resort to tactics that are beyond prediction or prevention. The casualties get higher too.


    "I don''t know how to say this without sounding callous or cruel. But looking at all the evidence, it''s a training run that turns serious at merge day. Whoever is responsible wants to take you out without hurting others but in the beginning, it''s more like they''re trying to teach you than hurt you. I''ll show you what I mean," Jacques said as he reached out a hand to Orison''s head, asking for Aurora''s help through The Weird.


    Somewhat hesitant, he allowed the two strands of intent to touch his spiritual seat. The rush of scenarios did seem like they were training. There were even a time or two where they had succeeded in killing him only to bring him back and using the same tactic again. That stops after the final merge begins. Done playing teachers, they become intent on making sure he expired before the merge was finished.


    "That''s why we''re going to Shambahla. Dr Odd''s mentor has a way to contact the other side. There''s a good chance she''s already talked to him and might have answers or, at the very least, offer guidance to you before we have no choice but to ask you to get somewhere they can get to you without hurting a lot of innocents. That''s my deal with you," Jacques said.


    Clueless as to what else he could say, Orison agreed before openly getting his team, twelve year old girl included, together. LeStrange didn''t seem keen on stopping him and if a Triumvir wasn''t going to, no one else was going to interfere.


    "Alright, gang. It''s a pretty simple run. We go out to a certain area of the swamp and then we come back. There''s some other stuff too but it''s only the minor details. Anyone want out?" the young mage asked.


    Not seeing anyone volunteering to walk, he gave the go ahead and they flew to the rip stabilizer warehouse. There was some friction on turning the dial a half day early but a charged chain battery and a goods bribe to the captain of the current plane''s fort, that friction disappeared. With an extra half-day of open rip time being all the bribe Echo Mire''s captain needed, he faced no challenges setting up his tour.


    In a private moment, Roy said, "I thought this was going to be your nose bloodying plan. It doesn''t seem like you''re going to get much of that done with how fast we''re rushing things."


    The young mage looked at Roy helplessly, "I''m on the verge of desperate here... There''s one thing I can do, though."


    Walking up to the captain of the fort, Orison smiled widely and said, "I''m really excited to be here. You''ve had it hard. If my hunch is right about this, Avalon is going to be very happy with the results and you''ll be first in line to get ten percent of that happiness."


    "Do you need an Irregular crew put together to help bring back findings?" The dark and burly captain asked with a hopeful expression that looked out of place on the dour man''s face.


    The young mage chuckled and said, "I see my reputation precedes me. That was for morally decent debtors in the Barrens. You''ve got the worst of the worst here. There might be a wrongfully accused among them but do you know who they are?


    "That said, if you''d like a little extra on the side, I do have some wiggle room and a favor to ask. It''s not strictly illegal and you could even turn it into an opportunity for yourself."


    With the man all ears, Orison spent a few precious minutes laying out an ''opportunity'' for the captain.

 193 Country of Champions 44

    Orison laughed, "He wasn''t a bear mutant. Just a Russian descent with a love of weight training and a dislike for razors... I''m letting him track us for safety purposes. I may have hinted that he could make some merits and other such for selling our location info."


    Birgir went silent and started laughing loudly out of the blue during some more of Babs'' questions. When the girl turned towards him in confusion, he just said that it was nothing and gave a wink at Orison once she''d focused back. More questions were in want of asking but both Roy and the young mage needed to keep their focus on safely navigating a multitude of potential dangers that would see the flying disk sinking into the mucky swamp water, unsalvageable.


    At one point, the mist that was once not much higher than a few inches off the swamp''s water level began climbing higher and higher until they were flying at just above tree level. They continued that way til the tree line was pushing close to the safety limit of closeness to the planar ceiling which was quite low in comparison to most. Despite that, Orison did nothing to disturb the trees or dip even the smallest part of their ride into the fog.


    Inching slowly, they kept the course with Roy beginning to sweat as a red light came on to indicate unhealthy levels of exposure to wall effects. He didn''t have to keep going for long until Orison found what he was feeling for. He was poked out of the beginnings of delirium and followed a pointing finger.


    The young mage said, "Descend at that gap over there. Go straight down as evenly as possible without disturbing anything and don''t worry about what you see."


    Ghostly apparitions flitted past their craft, oddly producing excitement rather than fright in Babs. It was a good sign for what the young mage had planned. According to the thoughts Roy had plastered to his tight and pale face, that seemed to be unconventional suicide.


    While the equipment specialist tried to gingerly land among a few shuffling corpses, Orison asked him to open the dome. For a moment, Roy almost said no but years of military discipline had him doing as ordered despite screaming instinct begging the opposite. As the young mage walked out onto the rubber deck that coated the portion of the Reese Rover used to climb in and out of the craft, a maggot ridden corpse scrambled its way on top.


    "Report to your mistress that she has visitors to discuss trade business," Orison said boldly as the zombie seemed to disregard his words.


    "Oh, it did. I just don''t see any reason to answer that with manners, trespasser," a woman with nearly Victorian style widow''s mourning clothes stood to the edge of misty sight.


    Chuckling, Orison replied, "Not even if one is your late husband''s descendant and another is a young girl possessing talents akin to your own?"


    The zombies were called off but the woman was trembling as she personally approached. If anything, the air grew more dangerous and the young mage''s instincts were picking up on light threats of imminent peril.


    Attempting not to laugh even harder, he said, "Oh, that''s right. He''s your descendant too. Not one of the dalliances that came later. His family always wondered what happened to you.


    Whisked away by the Tennessee Devil Dog indeed. Little did they know it was a Marine and that the real scandal was his African heritage that had you telling fibs and distorting events. Would it make you feel a little more comfortable to know that such things don''t even raise an eyebrow anymore?"


    Turning around to look at the poleaxed specialist, he said, "Well, are you going to come out here and greet your great-great grandmother? You were probably wondering why I was laughing when you said ''devil dog'' like your ancestor had been taken advantage of by a hell hound. He was just a marine on leave. It''s your double great granny you got your touch of magical talent from.


    "Here, take a bottle of Doc Agave and catch up with her... Mrs. Brown, I would greatly appreciate it if you could allow us to tour the gardens while you visit. I know better than to touch anything and there are probably words you want to share in private, between just family."


    The woman nodded and said in a shaky but still youthful voice, "That would be a thoughtful gesture, Mr..."


    "Cantrip is the family name but you can call me Orison if or when it suits you, Mam," Orison said with as much due respect as he could muster.


    He may have played a little caddish to get her attention but it was time to play gentleman if he wanted to get his way later. So, with attention to detail, he was polite and courteous at all times, even to the zombies that shuffled across the by ways of the sizable swamp island. Quick on the uptake, Babs adopted a precociously cute act in tandem.


    Sidling up close while they walked through an unconventional and macabre garden, Birgir whispered, "You''re going to have that woman teach my granddaughter magic?"


    The young mage replied conversationally, "Don''t let the current situation cloud your judgment. Roy might be fine but we are in dire straits should you do anything to offend our host. And to answer your question, yes. If she takes a shine to Babs, the heritage she could bestow would cause the seidr practitioners of your country to writhe in abject jealousy.


    "They spent decades to recover what foreign faith stole from you, culturally. She has a purer and more genuine heritage legacy than all but the great three families... No offense, but it would be an honor and an undeserved privilege.


    "Babs, don''t be influenced overly much by the Ps and Qs we have to observe. Just be yourself... with proper manners. Even if she murdered us, as long as you didn''t offend her, she''d let you leave with Roy."


    She looked up at her grandfather in concern and then back through the fog towards where they came with a cold glint in her eye that promised hellish vengeance. Orison saw it and held back the urge to smile under a poker face. He knew that Mrs Brown had an eye on them the whole time and that small show of backbone would win the girl more favor than weeks of boot licking.


    The girl had won half the battle. She just needed to go in with a polite and girlish charm. If she did, the war of favorable opinion would be won. Despite her stiffness, Mrs Brown was a soft touch with children.


    He didn''t feel bad for the Irregular woman who''d managed to impress Mrs Brown in the alternate future. The unborn baby she had come to this island with, the one who she was supposedly worried over the future of, was murdered right in front of its Rowdy soldier father. That woman abused the gift she had received and used her own baby to kill the father with curse magic, taking that gift with her to the watery grave she had earned for doing so. Maybe she became something like Mrs, Brown but much less likely to have ANY intentions of passing it along.


    A few hours later, while Roy looked through his great-great grandfather''s things, The ''lady'' of the house came to speak with her other guests. After sharing a few empty pleasantries that were more a formality or perhaps an indulgent exercise in old and unused skills, she led them to the solar of her home for tea. Returning tit for tat, it was an uncommon and beneficial variety that Orison desperately wished he had in the dying world. After the mild poisoning and edge of the eye hallucinations wore off, their bodies would be slightly more resistant to negative and inert essences.


    " A fine tea, Mrs Brown. I admit that rumors of your prowess as a formidable sommelier has been eclipsed by other specialties. Much to the disservice of the world, I might add," the young mage said fawningly.


    "If such a trifle can win your warm praise, Mr Cantrip, then I wonder what words the full breadth of my talents would earn me?" she said as a faint smile rested on her cold face.


    He replied earnestly, "Speechlessly in awe, I''m sure... Assuming I wasn''t attempting to persuade you to spare someone''s life, of course."


    "And yet, you came here anyway. Should I call you brave or foolish?" she mused.


    "I wouldn''t want either title. Roy is my friend and I happened to know of this place, and of you, through indirect ways. Our little girl here is in need of a proper mentor as well. I have a decent legacy but it''s not a proper match for her natural talents," Orison lead.


    The woman smiled wickedly and said, "Come here and let me get a better look at you, girl."


    Nervously, though not as nervous as Birgir, Babs approached the woman.


    That nervousness spread to Orison and bloomed to a feverish level in Birgir when the woman said, "What''s your name, child?"


    Babs said, "One who seeks a mentor. Are you my mentor?"


    "Not yet. And why should I be, if you won''t even give me something as simple as a name? Is such a basic courtesy beyond you?" The sly woman said.


    Babs replied, perhaps a little too boldly for the sake of her grandfather and the young mage''s peace of mind, "Such a basic courtesy is beyond any mystic who doesn''t want to get cursed. Those zombies didn''t make themselves."


    As Birgir prepared to throw himself in front of his granddaughter, if need be, Mrs Brown laughed. "A little too frank but all too true. Come, let us test the veracity of your promoter. It would do little good if all this was the fantasy of an opportunist who plays at soothsaying."


    Left outside the inner house''s door, Orison didn''t have the nerve to use spirit sight inside a house made of spirit and death. A few minutes later, Birgir and her grandfather left the room frowning as Mrs Brown left it with a far more menacing scowl.


    "I thought you brought to me one suited. It seems your skills of prediction are as false and affected as your courtesy," the woman said as she looked down at the iron and bronze staff in the girl''s hand.


    Orison smiled and said, "Care to make a wager on that?"


    "I sent her into my ritual room to pick out a fetish that called to her and she came out with my grandmother''s old distaff. It''s so heavy and unwieldy, she couldn''t even use it after she developed arthritis. If it wasn''t an heirloom she had received from her own grandmother, I wouldn''t have bothered stealing away with it when I picked up the rest of her things that rightfully belonged to me," she said, slightly distraught.


    "A gate for a gate, Mrs Brown. I say she got exactly the right thing. Do you dare or not?" Orison said, mysterious smile.


    "And now I do not see your thoughts as clearly. Alright, even the antics of a charlatan can amuse before they grow boring. Your gate or mine." she said, threats of violence dancing at the edges of her scarlet filling eyes.


    The young mage turned towards Babs and said. "First of all. Good job. You got the best thing... Sit on that rock over there and keep that rod in your right hand while you rest it in your lap.


    "Okay, good. Now close your eyes for a second and picture yourself back in your room in the small apartment. Your mom''s left for the night with a new friend and your brother''s putting in a late session at the gym. You''re bored but there''s nothing to do. So, you just stare at the wall.


    "You''re not asleep but it''s not the same as awake. You slide in between. There''s pictures on the wall, people''s faces, conversations. Let the building shiver pass through you, over you... Raise your right hand slightly and imagine those faces twisting spinning, smoothing out into strings. The rod in your hand holds them in place for you so you can gather more..."


    Orison slowly eased up his suggestive voice and let her do her thing. She tucked the object under arm for a moment before she frowned and grabbed it back in her hand and made a whacking motion with it. Smiling afterwards, she started rocking back and forth a little and signing a song or maybe chanting.


    To his left the young mage heard a sharp intake of breath. Mrs Brown was holding a hand to her mouth as a brackish tear slid down her face. The shuffling corpses making their rounds on the island stopped what they were doing and laid down like they were taking a nap. Soon the ghostly balls of glowing light and apparitions joined them while Mrs Brown herself seemed drowsy.


    "Stop. Stop! I''m not so proud that I can''t admit a mistake," she said.


    Babs snapped out of trance and looked around in confusion for a moment before she looked at Orison. "You''re not wrong but you''re not right either. It is a thingy for holding stuff but not to make threads. It just, I don''t know, helps hold things but it''s also a weapon. It''s missing pieces too. It should jingle."


    The woman ran back into the house like it was on fire and returned a short moment later with a box of old iron and brass pieces. It was from Babs'' fuzzy memory but Orison could figure it out and piece by piece, he mended the broken decorations back on. A subtle but strong hum came from what he thought was merely an extra thick distaff.


    Birgir said, "That''s a Volva''s iron staff."


    Unable to blush but looking scandalized, Mrs Brown frowned at the man, causing him to blush at the realization of her misunderstanding. "Not...not unmentionable parts, mam. Volva is a seidr practitioner... a wise woman. Did your grandmother have something with symbols on it? Runes, if you know what they are."


    From there, Orison had no place in the goings on. It was outside the realm of his comprehensions and wouldn''t particularly enrich them. So, he went to find Roy.


    After Roy finished excitedly showing off his ancestor''s stuff, he said, "I don''t really get it, though. How did all of this end up here?"


    Orison gave a lopsided grin. "Not all the rips are new. Some of them are old, from the time before this world drew magic away from people. Before Southern Louisiana was renamed Antioche Bay, not too far from a place called Chauvin, that''s where they ran away. He liked going out, in more ways than one but... One of those times, he took her because he''d found something... magical.


    "She stayed. He came and went. As hard of a time as he had being faithful, there was no doubt that he loved her because he NEVER brought anyone else here and he never left for long. The only other person to come here was someone named Julia who may or may not be your great grandaunt. You''ll have to talk to Mrs Brown about that but I''d suggest not."


    With night rolling into it''s last legs, everyone met back up in the living room. Mrs Brown looked faded, washed out. At first, the young mage as confused by what could be the cause but among the revelations that came to light from the woman''s collection of her grandmother''s things turned out to be a secret journal embroidered into the squares of an old quilt. Within its stitches was a rich story of a woman who had many friendly connections.


    The legacy that Mrs Brown had studied over her life was a series of three leather bound books that turned out to be a duel trophy with one best friend that had turned bitter enemy. It was a sordid tale that the young mage had little interest in but had taken wind out of the revenant lady''s sails. Losing a great deal of the will that had held her clinging to the material side of the veil, she made quick work of doling what she had to who she wished to receive it.


    Moved to some pity, Orison said as he watched her look over the dark accumulation of gruesome magical makings, "Life is strange. It took you down a path of love but also a path of damnation. If you hadn''t taken it, then your legacy and life may not have been as fully lived nor as meaningful. It''s not a justification and there may not be some shining hall awaiting you on the other side but there are no guarantees that what would have awaited you at the end of a wider, more traveled road would be better.


    "You have found a good hearted girl to carry your grandmother''s light and a descendant to carry you and your husband''s memory. You lived a life of regal destruction, royal wickedness. In modern terms, you were one hell of a bad a** swamp witch. I have a memory of someone saying ''If you can''t be good, be good at it.'' You were damn good at it."


    She smiled weakly and replied, "You really shouldn''t waste your kindness on someone like me. I might decide to haunt you."


    He shrugged, "Kindness isn''t wasted unless it''s ignored... I have a suggestion if you don''t want to leave it up to fate. You know, what you''re going to, I mean. There''s this oddity of an afterlife ruler named Noxflora..."

 194 Country of Champions 45

    Once his three companions had picked everything of value to them, Orison threw the rest of the things too dangerous or steeped in dark deeds into the devouring swirl of his space. There was a garden and cupboard of goodies that made the bulk of the young mage''s actual gains. And even though Roy hadn''t had much of a supernatural gain from the trip, it had been an invaluable lift to something Orison thought of as equally important.


    "Are you disappointed?'' he asked the equipment specialist.


    Roy smiled widely. "Are you kidding? My great-great granny was nearly an S-class supernatural threat! I feel friggin stoked!"


    The young mage said, "I think it slipped her mind or whatever she actually used to think. She actually did leave something very useful to you. It''s possible that she didn''t tell you because she was afraid it would hurt you but I''m a lightweight curse breaker, so..."


    He lead Roy to the center of the ritual room and said, "Sit right hear, try not to give too much thought on how this works and repeat after me. Ancestor, give me your blessing. Share with this humble descendant, the depth of your wisdom and open the doors of your gifts hidden within my blood and bones..."


    Under Orison''s watchful eye, the remains of his ancestors buried underneath the floor of the ritual room enriched Roy''s physical and spiritual talents. Steeped in the dark essence of the Mire for decades, they were something of a conduit themselves. That didn''t mean there weren''t dangers.


    The swampy plane had remnant will, possibly other smaller will shards, and didn''t take kindly to the theft. But the young mage would hit clumps of dark backlash and grudge with Remove Curse, when it had grown strong enough to unleash itself at Roy''s unprotected soul. Soon, Babs and Birgir rushed in to tell him that a slew of undead nastiness and other dark creatures were marching their way to the island.


    Orison slapped Roy on the back, knocking him out of trance, and said, "Communion with the ancestors is over. Get in the Reese Rover and go to the other location. Don''t try to go through until you see a flash and the appearance of another scenery in the planar wall. Don''t forget to detach the drone with the tracker signal."


    As the specialist trotted to the craft, he muttered. "Crazy... First he tells me how the walls don''t have anything good on the other side of them and then tells me about a spot where the planar wall has something good on the other side of it."


    In the distance, while dodging around a few of the first creatures to break through the island''s protection, Roy replied, "Are you TRYING to make my brain explode or something!?"


    As he lead the grandfather and granddaughter duo towards the storage shed by the garden, he thought, "Step into my shoes."


    Once in the shed, he barred the doors behind him. After a bit of fumbling, he found the trap door that led into the ground and barred that as well after they were through.


    Walking through a wide tunnel made of fitted stone and mortar that was oddly in good repair and dry, Orison said, "Up ahead, there will be three branches."


    While he took a second to make sure he had their attention, Babs said, "Left, middle, left and don''t really look at anything. Mrs Brown already told us just in case the sharing she did with me undone her. Undid her? Made her disappear."


    With nothing to add about the tunnels, the young mage said as they walked, "What kind of things did she share?"


    Babs sighed, "Most of it was woman stuff. There were some things that she had figured out that weren''t all dark and messing with dead stuff. Do you want to know about any of that?"


    Orison nodded and said, "If there''s anything that you think is useful, then sure."


    With a playful smile, she said, "What do I get?"


    Giving her a saintly smile in return, he replied, "A ride out of the swamp. Grandpa Booger even gets to ride for free."


    At one point, the area felt heavy. A combination of extra pressure, both spiritual and physical, pressed against them and Babs eventually had to be carried by her grandpa who was a lot stronger than he looked.


    "We can''t stay here for long but pick up as many of those dark chunks out of that black sludge, under the walkway, as you can in a couple of minutes. Makes sure not to touch it with your bare hands. I know it''s an obvious but it''s important enough to remind," Orison said, joining in himself.


    A few minutes later, after they were walking again and the pressure let back up, Babs asked, "What are those things?"


    "Chunks of compressed inert essence. If we had taken another route, we would have personally felt how it was done. We would have also been exposed to the liquid and particle versions which would have been pretty much deadly long before the pressure got us," the young mage said.


    Babs replied, "But we were told that it was almost impossible to compress spent mystical energies from its ethereal gas state outside of a lab."


    When Orison looked at her oddly, she smiled and said, "Did you forget that I''m prepping for Core Accelerator?"


    The young mage rolled his eyes as Birgir ruffled her hair and proudly said, "That''s my little egg head."


    Even though she shot her grandfather an annoyed look, she secretly smiled when she looked away.


    Eventually they came out the other side onto a large mound overlooking a slightly dry and cracked surface of a mud flat. Instead of murky dimness, there was a sunny and cloudless sky overhead. After surveying the baking layer of crust that seemed to stretch out in most directions, Orison walked to the edge of the side that extended out to wetness in the near distance.


    "Take this ball and put it up to the back of your neck, Grandpa Booger. I''m going to need your help with something in a minute and you''ll need a suit that''ll protect you from direct contact with your surroundings," the young mage said.


    Having earned some of the old man''s trust, Birgir didn''t flinch at following his directions. After testing out the features of the suit as he received a crash course, he followed the young mage out onto the mudflat as Babs was told to stay put for her safety.


    Pouting, Babs said, "You could give me a suit too! Then I could help."


    Suppressing a chuckle, Orison replied, "You want a suit that kind of looks like a carbon coated model of a skinned person? I figured I''d make you something nicer once I had the time. They bond to you. So, you can''t just take it off later for another. At least, not without some serious pain. Are you sure you can''t sit tight for a little bit instead?"


    Crossing her arms, she squinted her eyes at him. "How nice are we talking?"


    "Favorite color with enchantments, nice," Orison said as he started walking out, eyes pointed at the ground.


    Once they were suited up and Orison started slowing down, picking their movements more carefully, Birgir asked, "What are we doing exactly?"


    Orison said, "Looking for signs of people under there without going for a dangerous mud bath."


    "What would be the point?" Birgir said.


    In a grim voice, the young mage responded, "It takes a long time to die under there."


    With a decent idea of what he was looking for, it still took about fifteen minutes before he found the mud flow pattern he was looking for with his spirit sight.


    "No matter what you see. I need you to keep your cool, Gandpa Booger. You''re going to see some unpleasant things but we have to push back responding to that til later,"


    Somberly the old man responded, "I hear you."


    After giving some instructions, Orison carefully lowered Birgir past a thin piece of crust to reveal watery mud. Clipping a rope into place, he had the older man sink as low as the mud would let him and start fishing around until a body was felt. From there it was a multi-step process of retrieval until the young mage had to call time on it.


    They stopped finding people that still had uncrystallized exposed parts anyway. That was pretty much the extreme possible limit of potential survivability. A rule harshly proven once they got back to the mound. Out of the six potential survivors, only two were savable but Orison secretly used a feather on one that was almost completely covered.


    The old man, who had been trying really hard NOT to look at that particular body, gaped in awe as crystal reversed back to flesh and a young man was revealed. It was Lars, Babs'' father and son of Birgir. The old man shot Orison a heartfelt look of gratitude and secret knowing before rushing in to check on the young man.


    "I don''t understand. Over twelve years and he only looks younger. Are there any problems? Does he need medical attention?" Birgir spat in rapid succession.


    Orison shook his head and said, "He''ll rest off the remaining deathless state in a day or two and wake up in a starved state. The others won''t have as easy of a time but they won''t be our problem in a minute."


    Observing her sleeping father in a state of wary curiosity, Babs said, "How did they get like that to begin with?"


    The young mage said, "That mud flat is a large, unbroken stretch of super charged healing mud that the death marches are sent out to find. The cores typically found in most of them are the crystallized pieces of living things that have completed the transition. Don''t ask me how they get to all the different places in the swamp. I have no idea.


    "What I do know, is that every once in awhile, something forms called a ''devil''s cauldron''. Divers can find very large chunks of healing mud cores in them. Several years ago, a team was sent to investigate a particularly large one that reversed it''s push while the investigation was ongoing. You probably know more about that story than I do, Grandpa Booger. Tell her about it while I do my thing."


    Sensing that the hover craft was nearing the planar wall that separated them just far enough away that they weren''t in danger on either side, Orison went to work as quickly as possible. Dashing along the same ridge supported crust he was on earlier while having levitation lighten him, the young mage made as far a distance out as he could get within a few minutes. Using his relatively weak telekinetic spell he scrawled a note about survivors and the possibility of more buried in the mud.


    Laying down a vellum with a complicated model on it, the young mage let loose a torrent of magic and a liberal flow of spirit essence along the lines of connection. From the model on the vellum, he followed it to the opened and stabilized rip and through to his own transport circle in the training bunker. With one last push that left him feeling lightheaded, he finally managed to connect with the massive formation under the lake house through the control circle in his basement.


    With a monumental pull to align all the connections and tap the power he had stored inside the lake house formation, Orison set the three mile property to exchange equal mass with his current location. Taxing his mental capabilities as well, he excluded bringing along unwanted visitors and lingering guests from the previous emergency evacuation to his house. He also made sure that when the exchange occurred, his group plus Lars would remain while the rest went with the chunk of mudflat.


    The cost was monumental in more ways that one. The several motes worth of condensed eternium stored in the formation were burned up. Orison''s aura was weakened significantly and nearly every free scrap of spirit and magic essence stored in his body were exhausted in one fell swoop. Were it not for the tied formation inside the hovercraft Roy was in, that would pull it over with the lake house property, the equipment specialist would have died, crashing into the planar wall.


    As Orison lost consciousness, he thought of the small bit of villainy he had pulled. Since Roy believed in Orison, he bravely flew towards the planar wall after seeing the strong flash on the other side linked to the appearance of the lake house property. To any observer, it would very much appear as if Roy had flew ''through'' the wall but he had been phased over just as the property had, with a poof of displaced air exchanged in his place.


    Two other flying craft HAD been observing. Upon seeing the ''smoke and mirrors'' illusion, one plowed right into the planar wall. Their death was mercifully quick. The remaining observer was in need of a change of underwear as they were only a half second away from doing the same.


    Nearly an hour later, being fed the restoratives Roy had on him, Orison scrambled back to his feet woozily. Pulling a couple of better ones out, he downed them in succession. Staggering outside, Orison could tell that the edges of the lake house property''s greenery was starting to show signs of going into the undying state. The far edges of the much smaller lake''s boundaries were taking on a dirty stain of clay rich mud.


    Orison sighed and muttered, "Could have went better. Could have went a hell of a lot worse."


    Bellowing out behind him into the house, he said, "Every able body pair of hands, use whatever is ON hand to start banking up the other side of the lake. Turner, I know you''re an earth mover. We need that water to stay clean. Filter through is unavoidable and soil seepage is a good thing but lets keep the chunks and the larger part of the mud out."


    Grabbing Roy, he had the specialist fly him out to near the center of the wettest part of the flat after collecting up all the inert essence crystals his team had gathered. Throwing the whole collection down, the black rocks ate through the crust and began sinking down into the muddy water. A patch of clear water remained in their trail which Orison quickly followed.


    Relying on spirit sight to guide him, the young mage swam towards the main source of the healing mud''s ''life'' property. After reaching a certain depth, he was surprised to find himself fall into an empty space. Hitting his suit with presto, he looked around.


    A sight he had never expected to see out of the many scenarios he''d prepared for. Close to the center of the ''bubble'' A bored looking Daniel stared listlessly at his pitcher conduit while the fused marble looking hourglass that the man had once called the Temporal Centrifuge, spun lazily above him. Noticing Orison''s presence and recognizing the over robe, he he made an equally lazy motioning gesture for the young mage to join him.


    "Long time, no see, Danny," Orison said with a smile, deciding to take the coincidence as a happy accident until proven otherwise.


    Danny chuckled and said, "Not for me. We met maybe a couple of days ago but I''ve long grown numb to the ridiculousness of low dimensional nonsense... So, does this version of you know who your original parents are and all of that? Or are you a version that''s clueless why overpowered assassins are trying to take your life after, well, playing with you?"


    A little numb himself, the young mage replied, "The second. Was there a version where I had figured out why I can''t hit the next step?"


    Daniel nodded, ironic amusement on his face. "It''s tied to the first version. Have a seat and I''ll fill you in. Are you a version with drinks and snacks?"


    Orison pulled out a bottle of the more abundant special boozes and some minor augmented munchies.


    The pleasantly bland man helped himself as he explained. "I''m not completely uninvolved since my master is wrapped up in this to a small degree. You see, before she switched out her base comprehensions for a less dead end path than a taboo field rejected by greater reality, her conduit was a device that manipulated placement of consciousness in time.


    "She had to sever her connection with it, among other hard sacrifices... Since I''ve already told the long version a couple of times, I hope you don''t mind the short one... Conduit gains a form, enjoys some life as a ''person'' and accidentally finds out the hard way that a certain girl in a certain reality is capable of giving him a child. Since she was the only one out of thousands of lovers he had, he becomes interested and then obsessed over her AND his child.


    "Due to a mistake I''m not clear on, he accidentally or purposefully closes the loop. Essentially, from that point forward, they live their lives together in a perpetual recycle. The problem is, it''s down here and things from the mid dimensions aren''t affected. Things start popping up to disturb their happy cycle, turning it into a bad one.

 195 Country of Champions 46

    Orison sucked in a sharp breath and said, "A time traveling conduit and a woman from Amoril are my parents?"


    Daniel said, "Close. Your mother is the maid of one of those nomadic fey tribes that likes to mingle with mortals. Pelentis, I believe... To wrap it up, they spent a long time at odds on how to fix your problem but with this being the last chance, they decided to work together. I think it helps that the version working with her is in the second stage of his cycle where he hasn''t, can''t really, go back.


    "It''s the way that they are working together that''s a problem for you. One wants to kill you before the merge to get you spiritually across the divide and be reborn on the other side under a very controlled circumstance while the other wants you to pass through while stuffed inside your ''other body''. Whatever that means. Both of them aren''t really interfering with each other so much as acting as the fall back to each other''s plans, depending on what''s going on with you."


    With heavily mixed emotions, Orison asked, "How much of my life has been my choice?"


    Daniel shrugged. "You didn''t tell me and I have no way of knowing personally. I''d say a good deal has been all you while they cope and adjust. There''s too many factors in your life to really control it without you knowing. Strongly nudged and herded, sure. But I think you''ve been in the driver''s seat, mostly.


    "I''m sure you have a lot of questions but you''re going to have to talk to one of them if you want all the answers. I''m pretty sure they''re not going to be rushing to give them until after the fact. No offense but it seems like they have it all figured out. What are you stressing about?


    "Once I''m done fetching the few 100,000 gallons of life water from this small rip for my master, I''m free. I can do you a few small favors, if that''s what''s bothering you. They''re only trying to give you a future. It''s not like they have some grand design to control you or screw up your personal plans on purpose."


    Forcing down hysterical laughter that came from a dark and chaotic place inside himself, Orison muttered, "I tried to put the best spin on it I could but my intuition can put the pieces together. I didn''t survive Zeke''s ritual-"


    Snapped from his inner thoughts, literally, Orison replied, "I thought it was Rithus but that''s actually not the case. At least, not yet. My real body is a sapphire looking stone that has my conduit inside of it. This is just a facsimile that overtook the shell created ahead of time for me here.


    "Two well meaning egoists are the reason I can''t cross over on my own. If I follow my father''s plan, I become a living planar will that''ll follow up that line to world will, reality will and whatever is beyond that. If I follow my mother''s plan, I become a bloodline hybrid with a slew of powerful supernatural abilities.


    "They don''t know that the reason I can''t cross over isn''t because of some defect from the way I was born. Not anymore. Fusing with Al fixed that. It''s because they have me in a strange crossroad between two paths that can''t be walked at once."


    Switching to inner thoughts, Orison continued his over clocked, intuition driven puzzle piecing. "I wondered about how odd my plane fit with the space. My space isn''t meant to have life. Not yet. It''s a depository for eternium. And that, at least, has nothing to do with either of them.


    "It''s the inheritance from the miasma and all the other ''chrism'' I''ve taken in. Beyond the huge heterogeneous mess of an amalgamated existence I am, there is ''outsider''. Something that as easily breeds new life through traumatic insemination of its chaotic makeup as anything that passes for natural birth within reality. While they''ve been playing some kind of self-righteous game of who knows what''s best for me, I''ve already become something that only resembles what they once made together.


    "They only see the parts of me that reflect them and are clueless as to what my true physical nature even is... That extends all the way to my soul! Who knows what they think the reason is that my soul is a ring with a white hole in the middle but it''s because I am an outsider that has accepted the sovereignty of reality and that is what I get for doing so, for forging the power of chaos into something that follows the rules.


    "That''s what Noxflora meant! She told me I was something like Nyarl-Gnarly, a being of void and soul... Come on, intuition. Come on, key trapped in my soul''s spare tire. Show me a way to turn this mess into what I want, rather than just letting them choose for me or blindly turning into an essence hungry vacuum cleaner of Greater Reality.


    He was knocked out of his train of thought again when Daniel said, "Oh, it''s that assassin from last time."


    Orison looked up to see that Roy had come down to check on him but when he signaled to the equipment specialist that everything was all right, he was ignored.


    "It''s not really his fault. Avalon has a consciousness hijack device inside the head of all of their equipment specialists that allows them to insure internal tech secrets aren''t leaked to the UTF." The Pitcher wielding man said conversationally.


    Something snapped into place. A last piece of a puzzle that not only would save Roy but take care of himself.


    "He would have had to be re-implanted with it. That means there''s another form of time traveling dumbness happening and how I''m outmaneuvered every time. As soon as I leave this temporal field, I''ll be back under a thumb... As a trouble shoot, what have I done in the past to try and solve my dilemma?"


    Daniel thought back and said, "You used something you have to copy a gate to forcefully travel to some other reality. You turned into a jewel but you told me to throw you out. You did that one a second time but I HAD to throw you out or the Temporal Centrifuge was going to eat you after it noticed whatever it was you were doing."


    Orison said, "Let me ask. If I had a way to fast-forward reincarnate us. Do you have a way to preserve your memories so we won''t do something stupid like both drink your pitcher water or you forget what you were doing here and wander off?"


    Daniel smiled slightly excitedly. "Two, even just one living reincarnation would really help me out! Uh, yeah... it''s only a problem if I die, die. More than a few minutes and I start losing parts. The pitcher picks them up but you''ve seen how bad that can go."


    Orison nodded and said, "Alright. Well, the item you saw me use to do the gate thing, it''s an item capable of continuously casting a magic model its been touched by for as long as it has enough juice or it finally breaks down. It was a little something my conduit picked up for me. And I''ve been holding onto it to use as an emergency escape method, or best case, to get back to Amoril once I was on the other side.


    "I think I have a way to do that without it, now. So, I''m going to use it to multi-cast something he called ''The Gate of Reincarnation''. He used it to reverse things but I don''t think it matters which way you want to go. The only problem I think it might have is that I don''t have faith power and there was quite a bit of that in it."


    While Orison was talking, a mass of shadowy echoes of himself suddenly joined him and Daniel looked down to his pitcher with wide eyes. "I went from having some time to go to being done plus some!"


    The young mage said, "Someone or many someones just tried to reverse time with me as the focus. Since I can still feel that my peeps are still over there, all they managed to do was eat more of Beta Prime''s merge time away. The closer we get, the more this place gets squeezed.


    "It''s going to be a tricky switch but we need to time you getting the pitcher off the rip spilling that Vital water and me going space man to fit over it without dousing us with a lethal amount... Do you think a shaman spell can be ran without faith?"


    Daniel said, "Sure. Voluntarily sacrificed life force. Cultists do it all the time. Why do you think demons and the like don''t particularly care for devotion from their ''devotees''? They just need to be charismatic enough to talk other people into dumb stuff. No offense, but you''d probably make a good one. You talked me and that Gan fellow into walking into that death trap of a swamp, remember?"


    While Daniel chuckled at his own joke, Orison set up the timing and they switched him out for the pitcher to contain the potent, life bearing water pouring from a fist sized rift.


    When Daniel saw him go 2D black cut-out of a person, his jaw dropped. He''d been ready to use the Temporal Centrifuge to freeze the deadly ''life water'' if the young mage had failed but whatever he had interpreted ''space man'' as, it hadn''t been what Orison displayed.


    "You''re a Void Walker!? Why are you doing all this weird stuff to get out of your predicament. Can''t you just slip through a crack and be on your extra dimensional... Oh. Oh!!! You''re going to mature yourself and then do it."


    Orison shook his head. "I don''t think whatever transition I''m going through is even partially complete. What I''m trying to mature is my soul. Too many people have stakes and measures to control my bodies. I''m only focused on what''s genuinely mine."


    Daniel shrugged. "If you can do what you said, it''s completely in line for why it''s useful for me."


    "Okay, when I say ''go'', drop the temporal shield''s physical aspect only, keep the time ability interference thing active. Is that possible?" Orison asked.


    Daniel nodded. "That''s it''s default ability. When master made it, she was worried about retribution or manipulation from her first conduit."


    The young mage tossed out what looked like a snow globe filled with inky scribbles suspended in it''s clear, water-like solution. Mentally ordering the item to cast ''Gate of Reincarnation'' on repeat in reverse of its original affect, he noticed the globe ''hiccup'' for a moment before it started configuring the model along its memory of the magic involved.


    The moment Orison got the first whiff of rotten vegetation intermingling with the scent of new growth, he said, "Go!"


    The world disappeared into muddy water induced darkness. That state lasted for some time before he heard someone shouting at him and realized what the problem was.


    In an old man''s voice, as reincarnation fought with the life restoring powers in the mud, Orison said, "For those who want to come with me, get in the cabin I just pulled out. The rest of you, there''s a tunnel underneath the basement of the lake house. Or, if you''re skilled enough, manipulate the formation under the house to take the property somewhere else. I''d suggest one of the training jump sites in the Plague Barrens. People are much less likely to be hurt there. If you have a better idea, do that."


    People were saying all kinds of things but he couldn''t really hear them clearly. "In a few seconds, I''m putting the cabin away. I hope you''ve made up your mind."


    Once done doing that, he ignored the voices that kept speaking or yelling at him. Eventually, those voices had been joined by murder attempts but Daniel was expert at manipulating the timing of the fused marble conduit. Orison wondered if he had used it more than it''s creator had and vaguely remembered in his foggy memory that conduits were made to be used by others to begin with.


    It suddenly occurred to him that his memories shouldn''t be fuzzy. Frantically, he started ear marking the most important ones as the edges were swallowed into some kind of induced dissolution. Forward reincarnation would seek to strip ''useless'' memories from it''s target and that was only one of several small errors in Orison''s calculations. Intuition was not all powerful and a poor thing to make complicated plans with.


    A young sounding boy''s voice said next to his ear, "I got what I needed and more wouldn''t be that useful. I''m going to exclude myself but I''ll stick around for your-"


    Orison had miscalculated the nature of his existence. His lifespan was incredibly long as he had wished it to be so long ago. The effects of the multiple casts of the potent shamanic spell ended when there wasn''t enough life force, to act as fuel and sacrifice, in the water and mud surrounding it. Likewise, without the water to fight the magic''s aging effects, Orison died almost instantly.


    His space was pumping full of the stuff but that didn''t help the ''very old'' mage. That didn''t mean that it didn''t do as Orison hoped the magic would. His soul creeped along a ponderous metamorphosis. Slowly, it had taken on the sheen of condensed eternium but obtained a supple elasticity to it.


    The resting ''potential'' laying dormant within it had also matured into ethereal pellets still swimming in the ring of his soul, waiting for their chance at life. They too shared a pearly sheen but one of the three was far more green and had a strange emerald soul mark on it. Over the course of the reincarnation spell, the green hue and mark had been coated over in more eternium sheen, blending in with the rest but giving off a subtle additional strength.


    It also possessed a completeness that the others lacked and wouldn''t have until they had been officially been born once. Strong but hollow souls that they were, purely spiritual beings were a mystery of existence. Some thought that they had come to exist first and others later but it was a fact that they could take in a soul core, becoming a part of something else, or form their own after having been fully conceived.


    Those weren''t the only things that happened as Orison was in a period between lives. A tendril had reached out from the parasite plane to draw the mobile rip surrounded by devices, closer to the rip that was spewing the vital water. It had intended on gaining access to the rich meal not too far away but once the edges of the rips touched there was an implosion followed by an explosion. The rips spewed huge cities worth of vital water and other heavily positive energy inclined material along with psychic parasite riddled planar material before the rips collapsed.


    The space was not a place for life to be and long before anything could potentially make it past the large swath of inert essence infused space, it was beyond dead. The strange shadowy entities that roamed the space for a short time also reached their end rather quickly when the space violently contracted. The space had never been something that could be measured but the stable part that the young mage frequently interacted with had shrunk from it monumental size to little more than the size of the Earth that Al''s memories carried.


    Whether it be pressure, shock waves or the radiation produced along with other essences that spewed from the white hole center of Orison''s soul, the mysterious astral mist that encircled the plane eased and buffered such things. The keystone, once it had reached a conclusion to its own mysterious maturing, sunk the plane into a fold of the space. Still connected but also separate, the key left its sapphire home to return close to Orison''s soul while the sapphire merged with the plane, releasing the three hazy lights it had produced to go their own way.


    Whatever they had been made for when the keystone had consumed a portion of the Camdis shard, only the key had answers to. It wasn''t volunteering and Orison wouldn''t remember to ask. None of the Orisons would remember to ask.


    Somewhere, a young lady ruler of an underworld laughed wickedly and sweetly cried at the same time while a green haired young man with an impressive rack of antlers looked at his powerful mother in confusion. An old woman with a new body and a new life asked a young man to consult his inner tree guide about a premonition she had while a redheaded woman looked away in boredom, having learned to respect and slightly fear the older lady. Another, frizzy haired redhead suddenly felt an oath that she had made to do no harm against a young mage, come undone and felt relieved but slightly sad.


    In another place, an escaped Irregular convict waited for his chance to escape his personal hell and raise a little of his own. A few years later, a certain Northlander scout and several people on Amoril received quite a surprise but some were far less happy about it than others. There would be joy but there would also be pain.


    Two people who had thought they had Orison''s best interests at heart discovered that they had toyed a life directly into a strange and confusing situation. While they followed and secretly watched over the echo of their son''s soul that they could find, chasing a girl named Wendy to a place called the Nexus, they wondered how long it would be before all the parts came together again. Magical reincarnation was a strange and tricky business.

 196 The Fool 1

    For the first time in his life, a person of authority over him, his doctor, told him to play video games. Supposedly, it would help with his therapy. The only thing it helped was the sense of disconnect from his life. He felt like a stranger in it.


    From the day he woke up in the hospital relatives and old friends poured out from the woodwork to check on him but things had settled back into their normal avoidance pattern soon after. He thought it was mostly for his mom''s sake, who had loved and been loved by everybody. When there wasn''t really anything to talk with them about but memories of her, it became abundantly clear.


    The only one to hang around was his niece and her boyfriend. They had problems but underneath those problems, she really did care and he was a nice guy. Their lives were hectic and after a few more days of calls, there wasn''t much catching up left to do. It seemed awkward to keep trying when there wasn''t anything to really talk about and constant interruptions would pull their attention away.


    He had a sister who visited too but her boyfriend was an annoying narcissist that managed to turn Al''s incident into something HE was enduring to gain sympathy while every conversation was pulled back to him when he was around. His sister was a ghost in that man''s life and refused to consider being anything else. Al couldn''t make her be the sister he remembered and the person she was for the few brief moments her boyfriend wasn''t around, wasn''t the person Al knew either. It was too painful.


    Reaching out to his one remaining good friend, Al took a trip to Arkansas to finally bury the hatchet with his dad but after driving around for hours, they couldn''t even find the right cemetery. The hospital where Al''s father passed away, had made a mistake on where they sent him due to a bungle at Veteran''s Affairs. On the way back home his old friend Mathias made running negative political comments and they caught up on their lives. There wasn''t much.


    Al''s friend had some girls come and go but it seemed as Mathias got older, he had become more detached much like Al himself. And like with his family, Al had ran out of relevant things to share and forcing it seemed awkward. They weren''t in sync like they used to be, with very little in common anymore. Still, Mathias proved he was just as a good a friend as he had always been even if the bonds that once made them such good friends had faded and frayed.


    There were other characters that equally came alive in his mind but the game was derailed the moment Mathias realized that Al was pretty much ripping off portions of ''Rim of the Sky'' and Al couldn''t argue. It did seem that was exactly what he''d done. He played off the eerily ''alive'' characters in his mind as that as well, clear characters oddly remembered and fleshed out from the video game.


    Whatever mental spark that had caused, he found himself starting to have dreams and nightmares. His doctor said it might be related to his mind''s healing process from the brain aneurysm. Since Al was suffering from obvious signs of depression as well, the doctor set him up with a therapist.


    "Tell me more about the first dream that started all this," Drew said as her pencil scribbled away on a notepad.


    Al said, "Well, I think it was inspired by the table top role-playing game I was playing with my friend. I was some young kid going through some weird stuff in a world with magic, an ancient civilization and early dark ages kind of mix and match place. The thing is, they were so real. I could write you stories about them, long ones. It''s almost like I knew them."


    Drew read some notes she''d made from their previous session and said, "I''m not here to tell you how to think and feel but I CAN draw some pretty common themes I see in other situations similar to yours. Maybe you can see if any of it sticks or makes sense to you... Keep in mind that I''m only trying to give you some tools on perspective and not feeding you answers. Everyone is different and you need to find your own truth. Not that I''m above telling you what I think if you ask."


    She smiled kindly before continuing, "This Droya person isn''t even symbolically couched. She''s your mother in your dreams. Does she have many of the same characteristics as your real mother?"


    Al blanked for a moment and said, "That... there is. A lot of similarities, you know aside from the fact that my mom most definitely was not a humanoid cat lady."


    Drew helped him rationalize and draw parallels between the more prominent figures in his dreams and his real life. It made a lot of sense. He didn''t know exactly how to feel about the connection Drew made between Gan and Mathias. Somehow, that felt way off on more than one level. But then again, he hadn''t felt comfortable sharing much about his friend with a stranger, he knew Mathias was a private and anxious person who wouldn''t appreciate that.


    Close to the end of the session, she asked him if he''d had any more ''terrifyingly real'' seeming dreams which had him respond, "Not like those. Not ones that felt like reliving memories. There have been some others. They aren''t as clear but it''s still the same boy.


    "In one, he was chasing after some girl named Wendy. In that one, it''s like blurry world hopping. To be honest, I don''t even need help seeing the tie ins with my personal life. I always felt guilty underneath all the anger and betrayal for my wife leaving. If I thought it would do any good, I would keep chasing after her, try to win her back but I burned that bridge to ash before she even left and the last thing I want to be is a stalker. I kind of made an a** of myself when she first left anyway.


    "In another, he goes back to the world from the first dream. It''s weird but it feels like it''s happening at the same time as the girl chasing dream. In that one, he reconnects with his family and friends while helping them with some problems. Again, I see the parallels you were talking about but there''s one thing in it I don''t think I could do in my real life.


    "He starts a weird relationship with the scout fellow, the scout''s wife and even brings that Lyra woman into it. It''s like a strange polyamory thing. They have some kids together and raise them like a two mother, two father situation. It''s way off the scope of my interests and desires."


    Drew interjected, "It''s important to note that these are just dreams. An errant thought or two is to be expected. People are complex and the mind can take us in directions that we don''t want to go... Dreams can be a useful tool in dealing with our problems but don''t invest too much into them. That''s unhealthy too.


    After talking about some other issues and encouraging him to make new connections, do something fun and safe that he hadn''t before, the session was coming to an end.


    Hesitantly, he said, "There''s one more of those ''feels like they''re happening at the same time'' dreams. This one''s more like a nightmare. I don''t... it''s just hard to talk about because they may not be as clear as the first one but they FEEL even more real."


    Drew subconsciously looked at the clock and said, "If you think it''s important, then it becomes important. We might not have time to discuss them today but share it with me and then we can talk about it next session."


    After receiving an encouraging smile, he said, "In this one, it''s still the same person but they are physically much different. They''re almost like a being made of light or something. The problem starts when this being goes into a cabin. In the cabin is a person, a monster of a man that the being recognizes as both a criminal and an important person, like a president''s secretary or something.


    "That Third Adjunct or something like that, touches the being of light and they turn into a woman. To be clear, it wasn''t the being''s choice. I think it''s what they do, become the ideal counterpart to whatever they touch. It''s like a survival thing I think.


    "Anyway, the man isn''t a nice person and finding himself faced with his ''ideal'', he does terrible things to her. I don''t want to think about that too much because, like we talked about before, I kind of project myself onto the focus of the dream. It feels like this goes on for a long time. She even has a child!


    "I- I don''t even want to imagine what that would be like. On some deep level, I think it might be the most terrifying dream I''ve ever had. Maybe because it''s such a mundane horror rather than something outlandish that can easily be dismissed under the light of day."


    After taking a steadying breath, Drew asked for details of that dream that delved into the heart of the parts Al desperately wanted to avoid talking about the most before she called the session. She gave the number of a ''friend'' she wanted him to speak with and told her secretary to hold the next person on her schedule for a few minutes while she took a break. Her reactions left him feeling more anxious and confused than when he came in.


    When he called the number later the next day, it was a woman that dealt with abuse survivors. Her focus was on ones that had repressed the memories of such an event and she called him in for a casual talk. From that woman''s perspective, he did seem like he might fit the profile. But with no real chink in his life story to work with, she simply told him that if anything ever did ''shake loose'' somewhere to call her back or reach out to someone like her immediately.


    A few weeks went by along the same vein. He made some feeble but sincere attempts to become ''whole'' again, make new connections and move on from his shadow of a life as it had been. The sessions with Drew were reaching a point where it felt like they were drawing up more bad stuff than helping him overcome the persistent sense of mental fugue and listlessness that plagued him. Eventually, he terminated them in lieu of another approach. He started looking for a new job.


    As if in a rolling fast forward, the dreams continued. In Amoril, he was getting older and the strange family he had there was as well. Eventually, as a natural course of events, the children moved on to their own lives. For reasons that he couldn''t understand as a dream observer, his strange but not unpleasant life took a turn when it became obvious that dark things were brewing in the background of all the interactions with others he had there. To make matters worse, it was becoming clear that his aging self there wasn''t up to handling them, leaving the vast majority of the burden to be handled by Gan.


    There were vampires, werewolves and political intrigue that made him feel more and more convinced as to the fanciful nature of the dream regardless of how real it felt. The same could be said for the one where his dream self was chasing after Wendy. There was a fey woman named Pelentis and an older man named Zeke, who could freeze time, helping him and the Wendy girl escape from some ancient, alien monster of some kind.


    The only one that seemed to be taking a turn for the better was the one that had started out the worst. In the Cabin of Pain dream, the woman had taken her son and went on the run. Somehow, she figured out a way to steal the cabin and took off. The wilderness was unforgiving but she found a settlement of some kind and was making a life for herself and her kid there.


    There were other more vague and fuzzy dreams, like the one where he felt like he was a piece of land drifting in a void, slowly growing and becoming more diverse in life and environments. He liked that one the most. It was peaceful and contemplative. It was just growing and understanding on some deeper and intuitive level, the laws of existence and how things, primarily nature, worked.


    Despite their nightly consistency, his need for gainful employment over dealing with government assistance became pressing as the three month marker approached. Having the all-clear from the doctor, he hit the ground running only to find he had nowhere to run to. Among the many things affected by the aneurysm, his technical memory was first and foremost.


    His smattering of medical, law and business college courses had set him in good standing for a job moving into compliance officer after a few years of experience. But with a lukewarm recommendation bordering on insulting from his previous employer and no other work experience, finding another place to take in a person with ''preexisting conditions'' and dubious expertise, he was in some deep trouble.


    Taking a significant pay cut, he managed to snag a job in medical records after having failed an interview for an assistant-to-paralegal transition position at a law firm that specialized in malpractice. Half the reason why he got the interview in the first place is so that the sleazy lawyer who was the senior partner, could see if Al''s surgery had something he could manipulate into a case. It didn''t take long for the man to lose interest in Al as a client or a potential employee. ''Thirty somethings'' with an associates degree from a community college were a dime a dozen.


    There was something comforting about falling back into a routine. The work wasn''t quite full time and it might be a year or two before it could turn into something that could easily pay the bills with some to spare but it was something. With a little more free time but a lot less disposable income, Al took to walking in the park and speaking with people on a chat group that were looking to eat and live healthy on a tight budget.


    Still, the depression gnawed and the dreams would leave him waking up in a panic from time to time. It was around then that his ex, Erica, came back into his life briefly. It was a mistake made out of loneliness and guilt on both their parts.


    Due to how distant she had made herself to escape his harassment earlier in their separation and divorce, it had taken her quite some time to find out that he had almost died. Then it took more time before her worry and guilt overcame common sense and had her reaching out to see him in a ''public date''. It didn''t dawn on Al that his behavior had become so erratic during their separation that she had actually come to fear him a little. That realization hurt.


    After a few weekend meetings, they opened up and talked about things. It turned out that life after him hadn''t been that great for her either. In her case, it was finding out that she couldn''t have kids and a slew of bad boyfriends. After that, they had settled into a few weeks of mutual wound licking and adult comforting that left them both knowing but trying to pretend that the ''something missing'' between them wasn''t that important.


    Being into some metaphysical stuff, she did give an entirely different approach to viewing his dreams. The ''what if'' they might be real lives, shook Al up. He didn''t want them to be real. They were either awful or the kind of lives he couldn''t imagine wanting to actually live. Fantasy neatness aside, the three strongest ones he had were an abuse victim, on the run from a Lovecraftian horror and being one of three aging burdens an eternally youthful seeming archer guy was taking care of.


    Two months of trying but failing to be what the other needed, he woke up to her having pulled a disappearing act again. This time, she had taken all the things she had left behind the first time, with her. There was an ache in his heart but it was a dull, deep kind. He didn''t rant and rail. He just called one of their mutual acquaintances and ask them to pass on the message that he wished her well and hoped she could find the happiness she was looking for.


    After that, the depression was bad. At least, that''s what he blamed all of the deaths of his fuzzier other selves in his dreams on. After almost having a panic attack over a locked cabinet at work that miraculously popped open on its own, he took a sick day off.


    The next day, frustrated at having so little after paying the bills, he was at an ATM machine pulling out the last little bit he had to fill the tank in his clunker car. Idly, he imagined he had the ability to magically unlock the door on it and take all the cash he needed, like one of the fuzzy versions of his dream self that was hung as a thief. A moment later, there was a dim flash of light and the impression of a shadowy key in his vision before the ATM door popped open and he lost consciousness.

 197 The Fool 2

    A stern man in a suit gently but firmly nudged her out of the way and said, "Thank you nurse but we''ll take it from here."


    Looking p*ssed but trying to keep a professional display, she said, "Mr. Rainier, if you start to feel weak, light headed or your head starts to hurt, buzz for me immediately."


    Shooting the man who flashed his detective at Al while she was still talking a dirty look, she said, "Sir, if you interrupt me in the middle of my patient time, ESPECIALLY while I''m checking on one who might have a life threatening condition, you''ll not be very happy about what''s waiting for you back at your office."


    Looking up and seeing the detective give a knowing smirk to the police officer beside him, Al said, "She wouldn''t be the first nurse to cost a detective his career. Commissioners take complaints from skilled medical staff very seriously."


    Blinking in surprise, the man said, "How would you know?"


    "Before I shot realistically lower, I had aspirations to be a medical lawyer. Growing student loans and falling grades had me looking to end that dream before it''s cost buried me," Al said frankly.


    "Struggling with debt, are you? Desperate enough to try to knock over an ATM, maybe?" the detective said.


    Irritated, Al said, "If you''re asking questions like that then I don''t need to be talking to you. I need to be talking with a public defender... I highly doubt I did anything to warrant being accused of anything other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time and not being particularly healthy."


    "What''s wrong with you?" the detective asked, unfazed.


    Al replied, "About a half a year ago or so, I almost died from a brain aneurysm. It''s been a struggle but I''m pulling my life together just fine without resorting to crime. Kind of like that lady from Game of Crowns, the one with the dragons."


    During the questioning, he found out that one of the bystanders was smart enough to sneak into the crowd and under the ATM camera to take a handful of money before police arrived to secure it. The main concern from the police was trying to figure out if Al was some kind of distraction but didn''t really have anything conclusive enough to level a finger at him. Since his pulse was a little erratic and he had been somewhat dehydrated, the medical staff were fairly capable of telling that the faint wasn''t faked.


    To insure that he was going to be safe to return to work, the hospital gave him 48 hour medical leave before he needed to return. He was also banned from driving his car for the same amount of time. Embarrassed, he called up Mathias. With the help of his friend and his friend''s uncle, he managed to get himself and his car back home. Even more embarrassed, he''d lost his house keys.


    Fortunately, his car had a spare under the floor mat and it was the middle of the day so the apartment manager could let him in. After paying the social niceties of receiving someone''s help and offering a little gas money that was refused, he was left alone to stew on a terrible day. Looking forward to a possible 100 dollar lock replacement bill, Al went to bed early in a bad mood.


    In the middle of the night, he woke up to a masked face holding a gloved hand over his mouth and gun at his face. "I''m going to remove my hand from your mouth. If you don''t want to die, keep it shut. I''m going to give you to the count of three to open this diary lock. If you fail, I''m going to blow your brains out."


    The deep and gravelly but youthful voice''s words kept echoing into Al''s ears as a locked girl''s dollar store diary was thrown on his chest. As the man started counting, Al tried to open it. It was obviously locked and its plastic bound cover was a lot tougher than his stroke weakened, lack of meaningful exercise arms could force open. At the same time that he heard the clicking of a hammer being drawn back once the man counted to zero, Orison squeezed his eyes shut as desperation pushed against the boundary of what he believed possible.


    He was ashamed to admit it but he had let a little out when the intruder shouted ''bang!''. The man looked down at the diary and became silent. Once it was painfully clear his head was still in one piece, Al looked down too. The diary was laying on the floor of his bedroom open.


    What made it so odd was that a bit of a broken aluminum key tip was laying on the floor beside it, forced out when the locking bar inside was smashed back into the hollow the key piece had been jammed in. The man backed away from Al some and pointed the gun back at him. The man was equal parts excited and spooked. He couldn''t blame the man, he was feeling about the same way.


    In the silent deadlock where he was afraid to move, Al''s fear finally melted away to another need in the after shock of adrenaline. "I''m not completely recovered from a near death thing that happened half a year ago. I need something to eat, something to drink and before that, a p*ss break. You literally scared a little out of me.


    "I''m sure you''ve checked where the phones are between here and the bathroom. The cell phone''s already not where I put it. Please tell me, whatever it is that you made me do isn''t going to keep you frozen there all night trying to figure out if there''s a way to use me or if I might be able to do something else."


    The deep voiced youth said, "Can you?"


    "Can I what? I''m pretty sure I''m more than capable of peeing. If I don''t get on top of that soon, I''m going to ruin a record I''ve been holding since I turned five... Can I please go to the bathroom, Mr. House Invader?" Al said, trying to sound a great deal more chill than he was feeling, struggling not to pass out again.


    The young man backed up some more as Al got up and walked to the bathroom.


    While he was in there, he heard the gun wielding youth say, "Put some shorts on while your at it. No one wants to see your flabby old white a**."


    Trying for some levity, Al said, "I''m definitely two shades from Caspar but do we have to start insulting me over my age and looks? I don''t need body image issues on top of everything else."


    Despite himself, the home invader chuckled a couple of times and said, "You''re cracked, Caspar."


    Al finished his business, grabbed some clothes out of the bathroom hamper and said, "Almost dying a couple of times will do that to you."


    For a good portion of the rest of the night, he lowered the guy''s vigilance down to a level where the man finally took off his mask and drank a beer out of the fridge with him while spilling his sob story. It wasn''t Al''s idea of a good surprise visit but it beat continually having a gun pointed at his face with the guy not willing to leave. Sadly, it was the most excitement he''d had in some time and he felt that maybe he was cracked a little because he didn''t feel any hurry to make the guy leave.


    Devon finished, "So, yeah. I didn''t want to boost that car but my brother was already in jail and his girlfriend was going to run off back to her mom''s if someone didn''t pay the bills. He might have slipped a little but he was pretty much clean and looking for work because of his kid, you know?"


    Al sighed, "I''m not a decent moral authority around here but all you really managed to do was get yourself into the same kind of ''no way out'' scenario that your brother was in."


    Frowning but not interested in debate, Devon said, "So, how long you been able to... you know, open sh*t?"


    He shrugged and said, "Who knows. I didn''t until tonight. If you would have asked me if I was the one to open that ATM, I would have laughed in your face. Well, maybe not yours. I think I''m allergic to bullets."


    Excitedly, the young black man said suggestively, "There''s like, twenty something ATMs all over town."


    Al nodded and said, "If I''m anywhere near another one that opens up like that first one did, I''m going to jail for a few days, even if they can''t prove anything. A third? I don''t know if there''s ''Men in Black'' but that''s not how I want to find out."


    Things stayed pleasant for awhile. Devon thought of how Al''s near death experience may have awakened some kind of power like a superhero or something. But after that topic grew tired, the young man started talking about what he would do with it and how it wasn''t right that some ''privileged'' white man got it, among other things. He seemed like he was riling himself up to do something dangerous and Al was likely to be the target of it.


    There was a part of him that wanted to give such a devil''s gift to the young man and watch as Devon burned his own life to the ground with it. He chalked that up to the nerves from waking up with a gun aimed at him but it didn''t matter why he thought it. While the young man grew increasingly irate, a silver key appeared in the air and landed in Devon''s lap.


    On an instinctual level, Al knew what had happened. He instantly regretted the thought he had. The young man was obviously desperate and it didn''t seem like he was inherently bad or evil minded. He was about to try to will the key elsewhere when Devon grabbed it.


    Excited once again, Devon said, "Is this what I think it is?"


    Trying to get ahead of the damage that was about to happen, Al said, "I do believe that''s the devil''s gift you were asking for, yes. Make no mistake about what it is and don''t think that such a thing comes without a cost... Don''t look at me like that either. I don''t really know anything about IT, per say, but I can see a rotten thing and not have to take a bite to verify."


    Sneering, the young man said, "So, what? I''m supposed to be like you, too chicken sh*t to use it?"


    Al said, "I don''t remember saying that I wouldn''t. I just want to know everything about it first. There might be safer or even better ways to use it but snatching the low hanging fruit with cameras pointed at it from all direction seems dumb. Not to mention, you do know that every single bill in those things are traceable. Within days, they''ll be able to tell where all they were spent and someone WILL investigate those places.


    "Figuring it all out isn''t a matter of if, it''s a matter of when. And the more you take, the more you use, the faster they''ll find you. There''s a lot of locks in the world that should be opened. Most of them don''t have money behind them but even better things, more important ones. I''m not going to do a single thing to stop you from taking it but, Devon...be smart. Exercise as much intelligence and wisdom as you can before using it.


    The young man got up to leave after verifying on Al''s front door that it was, in fact what he hoped it would be.


    "One more thing," Al said before the young man left.


    Turning a somewhat wicked smile at him, the young man said, "What do you want, Caspar?"


    Looking slightly put out, Al said, "Can I have my keys back? You obviously don''t need them anymore, even if you did want to give me a rude awakening again."


    Devon laughed and tossed Al''s keys back. "You really are cracked. Are you going to take the key back as soon as I leave?"


    Al shook his head and said, "I''m kind of scared what I''d be tempted to do with it, if I had it. I don''t really think it''s a good thing to have unless you don''t need it... If that makes sense. It''s weird but... if it came from where I think it did, the last man who had it was hanged."


    Laughing but with a a ton of barely repressed rage on his face, Devon said, "Oh, was he black?"


    Al shook his head again and said, "A teenage white kid. He was an orphan desperate for food, not even money... My house might be under surveillance since a detective talked to me this afternoon. If you have any money from that ATM on you, I''d suggest you ditch it in a way you can find it later before leaving the apartment complex. Same with the gun."


    Seeing that Devon was about to leave money in his home, Al said, "Are you crazy!? If they really are out there, my apartment''s their second stop!"


    Smiling wickedly again, the young man dropped a wad of twenties on Al''s floor and walked out. Once Devon was gone, he flushed them down the toilet. A few minutes later he felt stupid but two after that, there was knocking and shouting at his door before the rest of his night was ruined.


    The police officer that dropped Al back off at his house bright and early in the morning said, "I can''t believe you made the station give you a ride home. I also can''t believe you took it. You don''t live in the best neighborhood and now everyone''s going to be looking at you funny for one reason or another."


    Al sighed. "I''m tired and you guys were in such a hurry to get me out and turn my apartment upside down, you didn''t even let me grab my wallet. You know, if they''d have only taken the money out, I still could have used the card for a cab home or something."


    The police officer didn''t bother hearing him out and took off before he was even finished speaking.


    "Rude," Al muttered.


    For a time after that, things went back to ''normal''. Al went back to his record keeping job after the medical leave was over and funds were tighter than ever but he was making it. With the change in his diet and some light exercise, he was feeling better too. His thoughts were still dull, he still felt sad or a touch extra emotional all the time but he was coping.


    A scary thought that ran in the back of his mind as he occasionally woke up screaming in the middle of the night from one fuzzy young copy of himself dying in a dream.


    He thought, "If I get what they leave behind when they die, will I stop being me one day?"


    It was a sick thing to admit but when one dream self died from burning at the steak as a witch, he was anxiously happy to try the ability that the kid used to clean the inn he''d been working at. He wasn''t wholly convinced it had but he felt tired and a little nauseous afterward. The world that the ''witch'' had died in wasn''t so much fantasy but there were monsters and stuff.


    He thought it was possible that whatever was in the air in his world wasn''t enough to carry the ability and he didn''t have enough of whatever could be inside to do it either. At least, not enough to not suffer consequences if he didn''t stop trying for the time being. He tried not to feel excited about the possibility of another copy dying and getting something else but it was hard to ignore the rewards for it happening.


    He felt a little younger, healthier. As more fuzzy echoes of himself passed away, even the cottony feeling in his mind was receding, being replaced by a sharpness that he had taken for granted before. As much as he hated dreaming through the shadowy deaths, he couldn''t deny that it was obviously beneficial to him.


    Nearly a month after Devon''s first visit, Al was awakened in the middle of the night yet again. It wasn''t to a gun being pointed at his head but a duffel a quarter way filled with old bills. Some of them were dirty and some had been used to do bad things with considering the funny smells and powdery residue on them but they were undeniably spendable.


    Al blearily looked up at the sharply dressed and much better off looking Devon. That was, aside from nearly bruise-like circles around the edges of the eyes and the slightly older appearance that had nothing to do with his apparel. It wasn''t a good sign.

 198 The Fool 3

    The young man said, "Why do you think I''m here? The moment I thought about giving some of my hard earned payday to you, I felt a little better... Speaking of feeling better, were you having a good dream or do I have to punch you for looking at me with weird feelings. I mean, I got a cousin and he''s cool but I had to rough him up a couple of times for him to get the idea that-"


    Al got dressed quickly and said, "It''s high blood pressure from waking up with an adrenaline rush. I think I might want to get my cholesterol checked too. Just because I''m eating healthy now doesn''t mean I didn''t log the damage time."


    Devon smirked. "Whatever, old man... See, I thought about the all the sh*t you you said and you see that? Call me f***ing Robin Hood. You know, cause I was robbing, in the hood."


    The young man laughed at his own dumb joke before Al said, "So, you didn''t immediately go out and get nice threads? I''m completely convinced you wouldn''t do something as simple as going right out to get a nice ride to advertise that you have money you shouldn''t have... Why, I bet you''re so smart that you even remembered to pay your taxes and figure out a cover for how you got all your money so when the IRS flags you for audit, it won''t look as suspicious and get the feds checking into your activities."


    Devon gawked at Al for a moment and said, "Alright, old man. It seems we gotta have another talk..."


    Al took some time to lay out the things he''d been thinking about since Devon left after the first visit.


    "Debt consolidation? Is it really that easy to get into?" the young man said.


    Al nodded and said, "But don''t forget about something like a tree service or house repair. Something like that. You have to have an intro business to justify starting capital first. The best thing about my plan is, you can really help some people out in the process.


    "There''s plenty of old, dead and dying out there whose financial affairs are gray areas. You can reduce their financial burdens and launder your money at the same time. Keep up your floor level businesses but don''t get too far away from what you can handle. I can do a little part time accounting and record keeping to help you stay on track.


    "Oh, and for goodness sake, no more drug dealer thefts. Are you trying to get us both and everyone we might care about, killed? Even if you got away with it a couple of times, you won''t keep getting lucky. Frankly, I''d be doing more experimenting and less low earning grabs with the key if I were you. Have you tried using it to ''unlock'' a password for instance?"


    Devon said, "We can just cut out all the other sh*t and pull it right through some old white dude''s account. If they''re rich and powerful enough, no one''s going to say sh*t."


    Al said, "Don''t! You think drug dealers are a little scary? Powerful ''old white dudes'' can do things I don''t even want to think about. Please keep things reasonable! You don''t need all that anyway. Stay low key, safe and slow build. Eventually, you won''t even need the key anymore and you can go legit. Be wealthy and legal!


    "You can''t keep using that key or something''s going to get you. You''re going to get caught or killed. You might drag others down with you, people you care about. Ultimately, the key itself is going to squeeze you dry like a damn halved orange on a juicer!"


    Devon gave Al a weird look and said, "If I didn''t know any better, I might think you actually gave a damn what happened to me."


    The older man looked solemnly at the younger and said, "Mostly guilt but... I think you''re a good kid that got a raw deal, not someone that wants to do bad things or hurt people. If-"


    "I''m not a f***ing kid and... Alright, I''m listening. Teach me how the old white dudes get away with it when we can''t," Devon said and sat down to listen while Al laid out some of the finer details.


    While they talked, the computer smoked a little before dying. It seemed that the supernatural and technology didn''t mesh well in his world.


    Al started laughing and said, "It''s a good thing you brought me some money. I''ve been meaning to get a new one anyway."


    Devon replied, "There''s close to about ten grand in there. That''ll get you a real nice custom built."


    The older man shook his head. "Store bought and remaining unregistered until I have it for awhile. Then I can say I bought it used. Less electronic paper trail, more deniability and devaluation. Buy a nice car privately instead of from the lot. Get them to put a small money amount on the title during transfer. So on and so forth."


    "Hey, old man, are the other ''good ol boys'' going to lynch you for selling all their secrets out?" Devon said in a snarky tone.


    Al snorted. "There''s only the millionaires club and the billionaires club these days. Green''s the only color that matters anymore... That saying was a little more true when I was younger. Money''s so... colorful these days and just about everything''s done with plastic... By the way, call me Oris-... Call me Al. If I can''t call you kid, it''s only fair."


    Al looked away, suddenly feeling confused and a little scared.


    Chuckling, Devon said, "You in witness protection or something?"


    Unable to wipe the anxiety out of his mind, he simply said, "Something."


    Begging off that he wasn''t feeling so well and needed to lie down, Devon left with an extra little pep in his step. Al highly doubted it was visions of sugar plums the young and ambitious black man saw dancing in his head. He just desperately hoped that Devon''s appetite wasn''t bigger than their combined ability to handle. After setting himself up as a crooked mentor, he knew exactly where the kid would come running if something went wrong.


    As he laid down again, he thought he''d have a hard time getting to sleep but he was wrong. Al slipped off into nightmarish dreamland like he was being pulled under tar by an elephant, slow but unable to resist. The one to pass this time wasn''t a fuzzy one, it was the one who had been steadily growing older every dream. It was a peaceful kind of passing.


    Surrounded by loving and friendly faces, an elderly Orison passed away on Amoril as Droya stopped anyone from interfering with their many different abilities capable of saving him.


    The last thing that Al remembered before his dreamworld was washed over in gentle white light was the sad cat woman saying, "He was only part of the whole. If we had stopped him from going as was intended, it would be a bad thing for our little boy. Wa-watching him fade away like that was one of the hardest things I think I''ve ever had to do... Gan, he''s still alive out there. It might be a very long time before-"


    Al woke up six hours later feeling wide eyed and well rested. For a brief moment a burning sensation radiated from the back of his neck as a weight settled down on his left middle finger. His mind was assaulted by a jumble of vague concepts and memories he was kind of glad weren''t too clear. They were important but there were just some things he wasn''t ready to deal with, didn''t know if he ever would. He didn''t think he had much choice.


    One things was for sure, he was only a part of some greater whole. He didn''t know why he was the one chosen to collect all the other pieces but his fear was clearly realized. Once it was done, he wouldn''t be Al anymore. Once put back together, Al would only be a small slice of a greater being known as Orison.


    For a moment, the depression won and he sat staring at the wall. Then, he felt a small trickle of soothing energy wash over him. It was what he inherited from ''white light'' Orison.


    In a broken, flickering vision he saw a key encased in a blue gem. Around it were three lights but there was the presence of a fourth, colorless and unglowing but vaguely noticeable. Al understood that they represented something important. He also knew that he had been carrying the fourth colorless energy the whole time. He was the glue, the magnate and collector. At the heart of that colorless essence was a wish for things to be more like they are in games.


    With a hint of hysteria at it corners, Al laughed. "I''m the freaking game plus. All the other progresses will add to me. We''re going from easy mode to normal or maybe straight to hard mode and I''m the freaking game plus!"


    A weak intuition was trying to inform him that he wasn''t right but his out of whack emotions wasn''t ready to hear it. What he was ready, desperate, to know was what the white light was. At it''s heart was a ball of hope, purer concepts of love and altruism whose heart was a wish made to set a slave girl free.


    Through a process of elimination he could figure out who the ''red and green light Orison''s were and even what wishes were at the heart of their strange and unknown essence. ''Red Orison'' was the one who went after Wendy, filled with passion and ambition, with the wish for magical and physical training at it''s heart. That''s why that particular version was such a bad*ss. The only problem was that the thing after them was so much more powerful.


    ''Green Light'' couldn''t be considered a proper Orison at all. It was life and soul with no real direction or impetus of its own other than to seek being a person. At it''s heart laid a complex wish of space, longevity and the desire to... be a person. The entity that had become a woman only to be hurt and used, found strength and courage once she became a mother. The center of her world changed from a source of pain to love and hope when she held that child in her arms for the first time.


    Al was the center and the hub of all those other lives. Once the ''white'' had joined him, he could feel them, could feel their connections with himself. All the lost, hopeless shadows, he called them to him. Their suffering was over. The ones that struggled, that had lives filled with hopes and ambitions, he left them be.


    In time, he felt like they were inevitably going to come to him but there was no need to be forceful or cut short those lives with meaning in them. Al also wanted to relish the feeling of being himself. Too many shadows and he would be overwhelmed.


    There were other things too. He needed to fully integrate what had become a part of him. If it happened all at once, he felt there was a possibility he wouldn''t be able to withstand it. To ease the straining burden on himself, he used the connection he had with the others to share some of what he could barely contain.


    Concepts preserved within the swirl of strange colorless and white essence that Al''s meager human brain couldn''t easily contain and would be in threat of being forgotten, he shared with the ''Green''. Skills, practical knowledge and the quasi-real things that floated like a nimbus within the colorless that he didn''t have the ability to access himself, he sent to the ''Red''. Through this, they became aware of each other.


    They couldn''t communicate and only Al, who possessed the colorless and the white, could actively feel the connections. The Red wasn''t happy and mirrored many of Al''s own worries but wasn''t surprised. From dreams, Al knew Red was aware of the others in an academic way. He felt a vague sense of confrontational ''may the best man win'' kind of vibe mixed with some grudging respect and gratitude from the Red.


    The Green was much different. She was concerned about her son. The kid had quite a ways to go before adulthood and she could vaguely sense a feeling of distant impending doom, possessing a fairly strong intuition. She might not have been capable of actively feeling the connection but she opened herself to it in a way.


    A small trickle of essence filtered into Al through their connection, along with a mother''s desperate plea. He may not be able to see her thoughts but he understood the message. If something happened to her, she wanted him to look after her son. He had no idea how something like that was possible considering that they were realities away from each other but had no problems with the concept itself.


    Mind turning directions, he thought about all the shadows'' lives and realized, out of all those possible lives, only two had children. Green''s boy possessed a touch of otherness and supernatural knowing beyond his age. The garden loving girl that had been born to White and Lyra had become a priestess of a temple for a time before Gan and Halda''s eldest son dispelled some of the fire in his blood and had wooed her away to settle down. They had a brood of their own and were embracing the tide of life, much as White had.


    There had been some question as to who the father was of Halda''s second son. White knew the boy was Gan''s but he never told and just as Orison had promised, treated the boy as if the difference didn''t matter. Unlike the older brother, he was sensitive, scholarly and had a spark of magic strong enough to blow into a blaze of arcane prowess. In some ways, that child received more care and nurturing than the other two but only because his thirst for knowledge and understanding nearly demanded it.


    White didn''t know when it happened but secretly, his daughter had gifted her portion of whatever fey grace she possessed to that boy because she seemed to know the direction of her life and saw no need of it. Seeing no point in slightly delaying the inevitable himself, White similarly did so. With the combined ''grace'' and nurtured personal gift for magic, the boy had taken on some of the agelessness that Gan himself had.


    Tait was a name Al planned on remembering. The boy was nearly as attached to White as Gan was but for easier to bear reasons, thankfully. He was inclined and likely better equipped to find other parts of Orison as well. There was little doubt that the boy had the talent and disposition to be a climber.


    "I''d lay money, if there''s going to be another little squirt to worry about, it''s going to be Wendy and Red''s. There''s no way in hell I''m going to go looking for a baby mama during all this crazy crap," Al muttered as he watched the morning news.


    Global warming, climate change and few more local stories filled up thirty minutes before Al was getting ready to take a shower and start his day. As he was getting ready to turn it off, a story about a local woman who had seen a shooting was played. The fuzzy bit of phone shot footage didn''t reveal much. They were protecting the victim''s information but Orison recognized the lime green shoe soles as the person in dark clothes and a hoodie ran away from a person with a gun.


    Al''s heart leapt into his throat as he saw the person go down after getting hit. He turned the TV off and quickly cleaned up before heading into work early. Logging into his account at work, he cut over to current in-patients until he saw the one matching the victim he saw on TV. It was a stressful day as he plugged his way through until it was over.


    As soon as he clocked out, Al was heading over to the hospital. Approaching the room with an unknown name, he checked in to see that it wasn''t Devon. There was something familiar about the youth, though.


    A man''s cough behind him caught his attention. It was a black man roughly around his own age. Al apologized for the snooping and explained that he was a hospital employee who had seen the news that morning and thought it might have been someone he knew, checking out of concern.


    "And you don''t know the name of this, so called, friend?" the man said, justifiably skeptical and likely a little edgy.


    Al said, "We hadn''t met under the best of circumstances and if I were him I wouldn''t have given my real name either. Like I said, it was just out of concern and this kid''s way too young to be the person I know."


    Looking angry and interrogative, the man said, "And what''s the name of this friend? What made you think my son was him?"


    A more familiar voice came from down the hallway, "Al? What are you doing here?"


    Both of the men turned towards Devon but the angry man spoke first. "You know this white dude?"

 199 The Fool 4

    Once Hunter''s screaming mother came in to raise all hell, Al took the distraction to extricate himself from family affairs he didn''t want to have any part of. Almost a minute later, an out of breath and tired looking Devon joined him in the elevator going down. Speed and better familiarity with the hospital beat Al''s determination.


    "You said you came because you thought it was me. What did you see that caused you to think that?" Devon said with concern.


    "The shoes. There''s not a whole lot of those with lime green soles," Al said wryly.


    "A lot of people have those shoes. They''re popular," Devon said defensively.


    He looked at the younger man and shot back, "Yet here we are. Your nephew was shot because of them and I came here for the same reason. They might be popular but they also stand out and I doubt there''s lots of people running around with brightly colored shoes worth close to 200 dollars in your neighborhood. No offense meant. I''m just trying to illustrate a point."


    Defensiveness climbing and looking irritated, Devon said, "And what point is that?"


    Sighing, Al said, "The Chinese have a saying that owning a jade ring when you''re poor is a crime... I''d say, if you''re going to have nice things in a bad neighborhood, you shouldn''t make them stand out like a sore thumb, especially when the money that bought them came from bad people not too far away. I don''t need to know but ask yourself, what shoes where you wearing when you had your fun, Robin Hood? Why does your nephew have the same kind of shoe on his foot?"


    Devon was about to answer those questions at Al, probably with a bit of snark, but the older man cut him off.


    "It''s little details like that. Don''t sh*t where you eat seems to apply as well... I hope you realize just how dangerous things have gotten. Drug dealers don''t need conclusive evidence or a trial to target you. They''re more than willing to kill the innocent to keep the guilty from getting away."


    "Alright! I get it. What would you do?" Devon asked.


    Al thought about it and said, "I''d buy a couple more around my size, make them a little less new looking and anonymously donate them to people I don''t particularly like. It''s even better if they''re likely to be people who also go to get goods from the places you robbed and can wear them. A little tough to pull off perfect but that''s what I''d do.


    Thinking some more, he added, "And get your cover business up as soon as possible. That way, when they look at your way for having money, you can point at your business. Hopefully it won''t reach that point or they might find some other way to squeeze you, even if you were capable of convincing them you were innocent. But between worst and best, that''s not the worst.


    "Wait... I just realized. I thought your brother was in jail. What''s he doing here at the hospital?"


    Devon smiled proudly. "Emergency overcrowding parole... Expedited for this morning."


    Al didn''t say anything. He just shook his head and walked away.


    Seeing that Devon followed him all the way to his car, Al asked what he wanted.


    "What''s the matter? Are you upset that I thought of something you didn''t or something?" Devon said, trying to sound cocky but coming off nervous.


    In a voice barely over a whisper, the older man said, "Please tell me you didn''t hack a government system that''s monitored by the FBI like a HAWK, from your home computer."


    "Library, and I added a few other names to the list. I even put one on there that''s a lot more attention grabbing. IF they figure out what happened, they''ll think it was for that guy," Devon said, pride returning.


    Al said, "I can''t even advise you on that one. It might work or it might not but once you''re on the fed''s watch list, who knows how long you''ll be on it and how they''ll be watching you, listening. Privacy is a joke at that point. The only sure safety and security in this modern world is either being unimportant or too important.


    "By the way, if you tell your brother about the key, we''re done. Let him think you''re a hacker or something. You said your brother was fighting to stay clean for his son''s sake. You might want to think very carefully about what it means if he backslides with that kind of knowledge."


    Devon said, "He''s fam. He can be trusted. I need to have someone else using the key anyway."


    Al said, "No, you need to slow down and take your time. Stop using the key and set up your business. If you hand that thing to your brother, you can''t control what he will do with it much the same way I can''t control you but try to help you with what I can... Will he listen to you? I sure as hell can tell he''d rather not listen to me.


    "Look, it''s not really a matter of trust. It''s a matter of temptation. 99.9% of the time trustworthy means a one in a thousand not. That''s a matter of when, not if, when you''re deal with something like that key. I''m not asking you to not help or involve him. He could be the manager of your company, help you set it up so that when you go legit, he has his own legal slice of a very nice pie if you play it smart."


    Devon''s face looked sour. "You didn''t seem so picky when you gave it to me."


    Al sighed. "I wasn''t but then I realized what I had done and felt guilty. I drew you a map to a way out from underneath it... It''s not too late to involve him when you have the resources, time and preparations for covering up mistakes. You give in to that siren''s call one to many times, you''re going to drown, maybe take people with you. Maybe think real hard before you involve someone else who might not have the strength to resist."


    Devon sneered and said, "That''s not really up to you."


    Al called the key back to him and then handed it to Devon. "It is but I''m trying to trust you long enough for you to make something better for your life. Respect the discipline it takes to use it responsibly and fear the consequences of using it poorly. It is a useful but dangerous tool."


    Looking worried, Devon said, "Don''t take it away. I''ll-"


    Feeling a little older than usual, Al said, "Don''t threaten me. There''s no need. I won''t take it away unless you keep overusing it til it makes you sick, you get yourself killed or you start giving it to other people.


    "If you don''t like the plan I laid out for you, make your own and send me a phone in the mail to talk with you on. Otherwise, you know where to find me. Don''t bring trouble to me or you WON''T know where to find me."


    After driving back to his house, he cast presto on the duffel money and went to get a computer. Two more days of work later and he had found a nice car after doing some online advertisement shopping. Over that time, Al realized that the trickle of essence didn''t stop.


    He couldn''t store much before it would spill out but that only happened a couple of times before the gold ring on his finger started sucking it up like a weak, starving animal that suddenly realized there was food nearby. With some experimenting, he found that he could use the ring to empty all his essence into and let the incoming trickle fill his pitiful tank back up. Every few times doing that, it would get just a tiny bit bigger.


    During one such event of ring feeding, he felt the smallest bit of something else in him go into the ring. For a split second, he could see inside the fairly large space inside the big ruby and realized that he could use the ring for something other than a large backup battery. The last day before his part-time work would resume in the records office, he managed to hold his feeble spirit sense long enough to check out the rest of the ring''s several smaller compartments. There wasn''t much but there were some interesting things.


    Three of the smaller spaces were piled with the various gifts White had received from ''his'' kids over the years. Most of it was ''precious'' sentimental junk that Al didn''t have the heart to get rid of but a couple of Tait''s and his daughter''s turned out to be quite exciting finds. Among the eventually spoiled first successful attempts at making one thing or another there were a few scrolls that Tait had made and some magical potions his daughter had concocted that were still viable.


    It was strange rummaging through someone else''s life and some of the things inside the ring were so private and personal, he had to fight a sense of growing shame for discovering them but he still couldn''t get himself to throw them away. It felt wrong, like he was a keeper of something that belonged to someone else. Still, there were things among them that were practical and useful that he saw no harm in ''borrowing'' til he was buried and lost within the pieces of the rightful owner.


    There was an ''ever sharp'' blade that Lyra had commissioned a man named Thorrinson to create. Between Gan and his eldest, there were enough furs and leathers to open a store and get beaten to death by animal rights activists. From the practical and caring Halda, there was a travel bag full of useful things a person might need while out and about, including some carefully hidden emergency coin and a few small gems for selling.


    As for White himself, he was a maker and a giver. The only things he''d held onto and horded were his precious sentimental treasures. Were it not for Halda and his later forgetfulness, White wouldn''t have even had the few coins and gems that he did. A silver and brass bound journal had many musings and a few magical hobby notes but towards the end, it had rubbings of Halda and Lyra''s gravestones, causing a feeling of nostalgia and sadness to wash over Al momentarily.


    Within the main ruby, among a small scattering of dead or dying glows of spent eternium motes, there lay a large, thick leather bound tome. On it''s cover was a tooled likeness of Droya standing beside a young Orison with an arm draped around his shoulders. Taking a peek inside, he saw that it was addressed to the ''whole'' Orison and lost interest after realizing it was mostly a stitched together ''album'' of sketched portraits and short biographies with Therridel''s small but legible signature plastered around.


    Al filed all that away into the back of his mind. Whatever time was left to be his, in his own life, he wanted it to be about him. The feelings and connections of the rest could wait as far as he was concerned. In a vague recollection, he recognized how he had become the way he was and didn''t so much regret it as wanted to relish what time he had left to be ''Al''. He figured he was owed that touch of selfishness and didn''t feel bad about it in the least.


    After that bold inner declaration, he felt a sense of peace. Looking past the the ego and vanity of himself, he knew that he''d never really cease to exist within that ''whole'' other person. He wondered if Red would eventually be able to find that same peace of if that one would rant and rail to the bitter end, unable to accept be simply a part of something else rather than a sovereign individual.


    Al was fairly certain that reality wouldn''t let there be much of a choice. Their fractured existence was due to a spell. And no matter the power of a spell, it''s purpose was clear and their splintered state was not a part of its workings. He just hoped that Red wouldn''t end up doing something drastic or dangerous that could threaten the whole before Red''s long good night.


    Over the next couple of weeks, not much changed. In his spare time, Al had become proficient enough with the pitiful magical gift he could use to spit out a nice variety of parlor trick level magic that felt more ability-like than actual spell. It put a smile on his face and it was fun without being dangerous. For an easily content person like Al, it was more than enough.


    Using a bit of the dwindled duffel fund, he managed to substitute together a recipe for the ''four days of hell'' physical readjustment treatments that he spaced out much like the ''second'' Neil experienced. With no magical ingredients to work with but a potion that could be repurposed, the effects weren''t as dramatic but he still felt fairly cleansed, modestly more healthy and a little more receptive to the benefits of the light exercise he could coax himself into doing.


    As much as the driven Orison of Al''s memories would scoff at the ''halfhearted'' dedication, those who knew him would be awed by the ''monumental'' effort Al was managing to squeeze out of himself. It didn''t matter. First and foremost, Al was doing what made him feel happy and accomplished. It was a relatively forgotten sensation and he was savoring it like a rare treat.


    With his niece''s birthday coming up and wanting a few more things himself, Al decided to take some time to research the best way to liquidate the coins and gems in the travel pack. It became a hassle of a project that cost him the rest of his savings on professional appraisals and creating a history for how he came into possession of them. As if to mock him, there wasn''t any additional funds for quite some time due to legal red tape that had become far more astringent on things like gems and precious metal.


    "If I had known it would be this big of a pain in the a**, I probably would have just taken them to a larger pawn shop for the five to ten percent they would have given me," Al grumbled.


    Being in a modern world had many perks but the slow crushing weight of accountability and surveillance was stifling. He''d never been so aware of how little personal freedom and privacy was left until after going through the heinous process of unloading a few ''heirlooms'' for a decent value. Annoyance endured, he had a nice chunk in his account again.


    After getting his old beater car fixed up a bit, he signed it over to his niece as a belated birthday present. Afterwards, her boyfriend bummed a few bucks off of him once they were done going out for dinner. Chuckling inwardly that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he went home.


    Upon returning home, an unpleasant surprise waited for him. Devon was sitting on his couch while he could hear the sounds of someone getting sick in the bathroom. The young man quickly gave him a break down.


    Seeing no reason to limit himself, Devon opened a tree service AND small home repair business. Deshawn proved to be a real asset since he was not only handyman capable but had a decent head for accounting. The only problem was, the people looking to get on and would be their staple crew, had issues.


    Just starting up with no reputation, it was hard enough to find high functioning addicts and people with only mildly dysfunctional home lives, much less clean and respectable crew. The brothers had a long term plan but for the present, had to take what they could get or it would never lift off the ground. Associating with that crowd had Deshawn backsliding.


    Catching it relatively early, or so he thought, Devon gave his older brother an ultimatum. He had to clean up and keep clean if he wanted to manage the business when Devon was ready for stage two. It helped that Deshawn really did WANT to be right. He''d missed a lot of his kids life and when Hunter had been shot, it shook his world up.


    "That doesn''t explain why you''re here," Al said in exasperation.


    Devon said, "Well, I slowed down on the, you know, things I do. Setting up the business and all that has left me kind of tapped. I was wondering if you could let my brother stay here for just a day or two til he gets over the shakes and stuff. He doesn''t want the fam to see it and if he was at one of those motels, he''d be too... close... to the problem that got him like this."


    Al sighed. "Alright. Why not. Between the advice and this, we''re even on your duffel surprise, though. So, don''t come throwing that in my face later."


    The young man couldn''t seem to get out of the place fast enough. Once Al saw what kind of mess Deshawn was in, he felt kind of duped. It wasn''t light symptoms the older brother was having. And to top it off, they were dangerously mixed.


    "Alright, White. I hear you in there. You''ve been nice about letting me be me. I can do this one for you," Al muttered in annoyance as he got his herbal kit together for a detox his sick peer had never experienced before.

 200 The Fool 5

    During the beginning stage with the cleansing draught, Deshawn had accused him of attempted murder, cried for help and actually cried while accusing Al of slipping him tranquilizers and having his way with the man while he was out. To some small degree, Al could understand why Deshawn would think that. There was so much toxic buildup in the man, Al almost thought he''d have to call for an ambulance when it all started coming out.


    Under such a situation, waking up weak and sore all over while being showered off in a bathtub would give anyone the wrong impression. To keep from being assaulted when Deshawn was feeling better, he saved the man''s clothes, in the state of a nasty that twisted Al''s stomach just looking at them, much less the smell coming off them. He added some ''progress pictures'' while he was at it.


    The next day, it took all of that and a thorough self investigation before Deshawn stopped looking at him with fear and murderous rage. That look was replaced with an entirely different one when the man noticed that some of his scars and ''tell marks'' were faded as if he''d been living clean and sober for years. After another set of arguments and battle of wills, Al got the most important nutrient replacement and a touch of stamina replenishment in the man before knocking him out again.


    A trip to work and nervously back home for lunch, it was an additional but, thankfully, lighter fight to rinse and repeat. By the time Al had returned home at the end of the day, Deshawn was raiding his fridge and pantry like he''d been saved from starvation. Seeing what the man had grabbed to the side, Al got in the fridge himself and dumped all the leftover bottles of beer and other remaining sloshes of this and that he had left, out into the sink.


    Seeing the hateful face pointed at him, Al said, "I''m trying to put desperately needed building blocks for a healthy body in you and you''re going to drink something that strips them and makes you p*ss them out!?"


    Swallowing back a nasty comment, Deshawn lamely said, "There''s spinach on the sandwich..."


    For a moment, Al thought the man was going to wing the bottle at his head before Deshawn slightly sneered at him and dumped the beer down the drain. A few broke from the force of it joining the rest in the trash. Al sighed and just let it go.


    He thought, "This is crazy. The man in my house could turn on me at any moment. I''m one wrong word away from being hospitalized and you''re still pushing me to ''heal'' him. Are you also the part of Orison that''s a masochist, White? What kind of ''bite the pillow and teary hugs afterward'' weirdo were you?... No, no. For the love of all that''s holy, don''t ''show'' me!"


    Fundamentally, Al knew he was only ''conversing'' with himself. It helped him cope with the mental barrage of things that White had brought along for the ride to think of it as completely separate from himself. With all the useful magic and medical know-how Al was still struggling to process, there were other things that he was struggling with understanding that weren''t so useful but much harder to accept.


    While he had been lost in his own world, Deshawn had been lining up all the herbal and health store goods Al had in the house, trying to figure out exactly what the ''crazy white f***'' had did to him. Up to the level of what was safe for his secrets and a little mysticism tied in to muddy the waters a little, Al gave the man the breakdown. His guest ended up being a lot more knowledgeable than he had originally thought, making the skirt around the more magical parts not completely possible.


    "Alright, look. You can tell that there''s more than meets the eye. If you''re not okay with that, there''s the door. If you can tolerate a little unknowing and mystery, I''ll finish what I started and having you out the door in another day or two multiple times better off than you came. It''s up to you. Everyone has their secrets and I''m not giving them up to you just because I decided to do your little brother a favor," Al said, aggravated at Deshawn''s inability to not keep picking once he found sore spots.


    The man suddenly threw the sandwich to the floor and stared at it in horror while muttering about bugs being everywhere and tiny worms under his skin. Al gave him the choice between two more glasses of nasty and a rest or letting him hog the bathroom with a pair of tweezers and a roll of toilet paper that it looked like the man planned on doing. It was a fierce internal struggle but Deshawn opted for the drinks and a nap.


    On the last day of work for the week, Al came home to his house guest working out like a madman. At first, he thought that Deshawn had found a way to ''abuse'' the stamina restoration mix in the fridge but the proper amount was left. The man was punishing himself fully of his own volition. After a brief discussion with him, Al found out that all the lavender naps had made the man feel restless.


    During a rest between reps, the man said, "No more ''close your eyes'' nap times, alright? It scares the sh*t out of me every time I wake up with an hour or two gone when it feels like I only blinked."


    Al nodded. "As long as there isn''t anymore food thrown around in the kitchen or tendon ripping cramps, you got a deal."


    "You SWEAR you didn''t do anything to me while I was out?" Deshawn said, practically to the point where he''d rather be lied to if something DID happen.


    Dully, Al said, "How many times do we have to rehash the gory details of day one? The only other time I so much as touched you while you were unconscious was the time that cramps made you fall off the couch. I fought to get your leg straight and held it til you stopped spasming then dumped you a** back on it."


    After a little back and forth, Deshawn went back to his work out. A little later that evening, Al had a blank moment where he was seeing Devon being knocked unconscious and thrown into a car trunk. Following it through the connection with the key, he eventually saw two men unload Devon at a warehouse.


    Shaking himself out of the connection, Al said, "Do you know where a red brick warehouse in bad repair is and who might be using it?"


    After Deshawn got a few more details from him, the man did and he even knew the man who did his dark deeds there. It was a few miles away but they could be there relatively quickly. Al''s first instinct was to call the police but he was afraid that it would call attention on them and it looked like Devon was being held for a little long term work over.


    "You just took your evening doses right? You feeling up to a fight if you need to?" Al said.


    Deshawn said, "I''m on parole. Call the police or something. That''s what punk a** white b*tches do when they gotta fight anyway."


    Al said, "Alright. I didn''t feel like getting myself wrapped up in whatever your little brother''s dealing with right now anyway. Al reached for his cell phone about the same time that Deshawn snatched it off the counter."


    Dread realization hit the man, piecing together what Al asked. "Give me the keys to your car."


    Al replied, "If you don''t lose your cool and keep a level head, I''ll lend you my derringer. I''m also coming with. I have a bad feeling about this and that means it''s about my safety too."


    Al handed Deshawn a tin lock box and headed out the door. It took a little time but on their way to the warehouse, Deshawn suddenly realized that Al seemed to have no reason to believe his brother was in trouble. There wasn''t a call, text, there wasn''t anything.


    The man said, "I swear to God. If you got me worked up over nothing, I''m going to kick your a**."


    A bit ominously, Al replied, "One more threat and I officially don''t give a f***. How about waiting to see if you can catch me in a lie I haven''t told you yet, first. You moody, ungrateful a**hole!"


    Almost hoping the man would say one more offensive or nasty remark, the man surprised Al by laughing.


    "If that''s how you want to play it..." Underneath, Deshawn''s voice hid a dark threat of its own.


    Halfway there, Al suddenly said, "Wait! Take us to that man''s lab. He''s cooking up a batch right now. If we blow it, there won''t be so many men in the warehouse."


    Deshawn, short tolerance stretched to the limit, said, "Why the f*** should I take you there? And how would you know? None of this makes any goddamn sense."


    Al ignored him as he was tuned in to what he was seeing and hearing from the key. "I don''t know if he has more than one house he works out of but it''s the one on Chicory?"


    Deshawn blanked for a moment and said, "That''s old Mad Dog''s kitchen. Why would Jaffin be cookin in his house?"


    "Doesn''t matter. There''s over ten men at the warehouse and I don''t even think the police would go there if we called. We need something to draw some of them out and away... Does this Jaffin guy have a rival?" Al said.


    Looking like he was buying Al''s story less and less, Deshawn tried calling his brother and the house. After not getting an answer from the first and a worried response from their mom, he suddenly seemed a great deal more interested in what Al was saying. Answering Al questions, they pulled into Chicory St.


    While Deshawn tried to figure out what Al''s plan was, the ''crazy white dude'' got out of the car and went behind a condemned house. When Deshawn was about to get out and see what Al was doing, ''crazy white dude'' was coming back to the car while wiping vellum ashes off his hands. Getting back in, he slapped the dash.


    "We don''t want to be remembered. Lets get out of here," Al said.


    Deshawn drove the car off but as soon as he was about to play forty questions with the mysterious acting man, there was a low sounding boom in the distance behind them.


    "What the hell was that!?" Deshawn said.


    Al muttered, "If we had been closer we would have heard screams first."


    Their was a trace of hysteria at the corner of Deshawn''s eyes as he occasionally glanced at Al.


    Noticing how spooked his driver was, Al said, "That would have been the people ran out of the house by a ''ghost dog'' before it went. I''m sure it''ll be on the news tomorrow... Okay Mr. Fat Braids just split up his people... Damn. One of the cooks was caught in the house. Other than that, there were only minor injuries. I guess that''s going to have to do."


    Deshawn, unable to take the one man running commentary anymore, said, "Have you lost your mind? What the hell are you going on about!?"


    Al smiled and said, "They only left two tweaker looking skinny guys and a somewhat chubby looking guy in corn rows."


    The unnerved black man stopped the car. "Start talking to me! What did you do and what''s going on!?"


    Al said, "We only have a few minutes and Devon''s face is messed up with a big knot on his head that looks a little dangerous. You want to get your brother as soon as possible."


    Cussing up a storm, Deshawn got moving but he was going too fast. At one red light, they were almost creamed by a car making a turn. Under normal circumstances, Al would have definitely said something but he had been completely unaware, tuned in to what the key was showing him. Finally at the warehouse with two near misses under their belts, Al broke connection.


    After sharing some instructions and almost getting another threat Deshawn barely choked down in time to keep from saying, they were positioned by a window. Al gave the man a minute to get to the opposite window. His job was to take out cornrows if it looked necessary.


    Projecting for all he was worth, Al made a dim greenish light appear in the shadowy corner nearest himself and then made a distant and weak sounding angry dog bark come from it. Cornrows immediately looked over and so did the two skinny men. After hearing what they had heard over the phone their boss had on speaker before he left, the two jittery guys took off running. Unfortunately, Cornrows didn''t have enough threat behind his words to keep them there.


    Left alone, the man''s nerves were significantly frayed. He didn''t bother investigating. He just let off two shots towards the green glow. While the man was shouting words to psych himself up and dialing his phone, Al made the light and barking sound flair out in a burst. Dim green turned into a brilliant emerald while the faint sound grew into a roar.


    The man opened fire towards the corner, unloading everything he had until there were clicks coming from his gun. While cornrows was busy losing his mind and making all kinds of racket, Deshawn had broken out more of his window on the opposite side and slid down into the warehouse. As soon as he heard the clicks of Cornrow''s gun, he ran up and gave one of the most terrifying haymakers Al had ever seen. Cornrow''s head bounced off the concrete, leaving a bloody smear behind and Al wondered if the guy was even still alive.


    Hurrying as fast as he could, Al entered the warehouse as well, showing him where Devon was. The young man came out of the supply closet swinging, having used the key to get himself out of the chain padlocked around his neck and another around a loop in the wall. While the brothers were having having a moment as Deshawn lead his little brother out to the car, Al placed a scary call to Jaffin, where all the man could hear was growling dog sounds as the man screamed and threatened everything under the sky and even some things that weren''t.


    On his way back to the car, Al removed and broke the sim card before throwing the nice cell phone into his ring. The last thing he did before leaving was dousing the most flammable looking section of the warehouse in some combustible car maintenance stuff and setting it on fire. He was fairly sure it wouldn''t do much but it was more about the message anyway.


    A little magically drained and not willing to reveal anymore potentially worrisome things, Al dropped the brothers off at the hospital. Deshawn was both spooked and thankful enough not to ask questions Al didn''t want to answer for a change. It was a peaceful night for the most part, aside from the images and accompanying sounds of a man''s head bouncing violently off of concrete that occasionally echoed in Al''s mind.


    He wondered what had gotten into him but received an answer when he fell asleep. Red had almost died. After narrowly avoiding some eldritch horror or another while doing a job for Wendy''s boss to keep the chasing bad guys from doubling, Red had a squirming... thing pop out of his abdomen. Zeke froze time and Pelentis healed him while Wendy pulled the larva-like creature into some kind of jar roiling with curse magic and otherworldly strangeness.


    For a brief moment in time during the night, Al had halfway hosted a part of Red''s contribution to the whole. It wasn''t much and it hadn''t stayed behind but the sudden hitch of brave daring do was definitely Red''s fault. Or, at least, that''s what Al told himself. He wanted to blame his ridiculous actions on something other than himself.


    In so many small ways, he''d exposed his magical secrets with little but Deshawn''s rational mind from questioning it too hard. He was a rational mind that had saw bugs everywhere and worms under his skin just a couple of days prior. Still, Al was already prepared with some hocus pocus misdirection to lead the man down different paths of answers if necessary.


    Devon ruined any chance of that working when he came through Al''s door the next morning with the first words out of his mouth being, "I''m glad you decided to trust him after spending a couple of days with him. Now he can help me and I don''t have to feel like I''m keeping things from my fam."


    Behind him, Deshawn gave Al a wary glance but was sporting a smirk just the same.

 201 The Fool 6

    Devon rolled his eyes. "Right... the key is evil. The key is dangerous. The key will eat your souuuul."


    "No. The key is neutral and uncaring about you. It IS dangerous. And it will eat little bits of everything about you, including your life and souuuul. One little nip at a time. You won''t even notice that much until you''re FUBAR." Al shot back.


    Making themselves comfortable, Devon continued, "You know. If I remember right, you told me you didn''t know anything about IT. You just kinda knew what it did. All of a sudden, you''re an expert."


    Al said, "I know a little more everyday about all kinds of stuff I didn''t before, Devon. Do you have a point?"


    Deshawn said, "What I think is that you''re holding out on us and I wonder how much more would shake out if you were shook up."


    Al''s eyes flickered dimly with an ethereal glow. "Even if I was, in what way is me holding anything from you something I''m not entitled to do? I don''t owe you anything."


    Deshawn chuckled and said, "Don''t get it twisted. We just want to step it up. If you got more heat, we want to know so we can do bigger and better things with it."


    Al said, "I''m not interested in bigger and better things. I''m interested in safety and survivability. The little things Devon did got your boy shot and him minutes away from a long, painful end... And you want to bite off more!? Try handling what you got first. Better yet, get the f*** out of my house and don''t show up in front of me again until you know what respect means. I''ve done nothing but help you and this is what I''m dealing with!?"


    Deshawn stood up, swaggering to the door. "Don''t forget that we know about you... It''s alright, Devon. You don''t need him. I got you."


    The young man didn''t look so convinced. Whatever power play that Deshawn was trying to pull, it was meant to pull his little brother closer and away from Al. Underneath it all, Devon already knew he''d made a mistake and didn''t know how to get out of it.


    Thinking fast, Devon said, "Brother... Man, look. Did you know where I was and what was happening to me or was it him? Where you been the last few days? You look better than I''ve seen you in years, man. What the hell are you doing punking Al like that?"


    The older brother turned to Devon and said, "He don''t give a sh*t about you. He just needs a dumb n*gga to do the hard sh*t for him while he sits back here all safe. He said it himself."


    When Al saw Deshawn start stomping his way, he pulled out the ''ever sharp'' blade and pointed it without so much as a tremor at Deshawn''s throat. "Leave and we can still be friendly after we both have some time to cool down. Take one more step forward and we won''t have that option anymore. Get out."


    Deshawn shrugged off Devon''s hand that was trying to pull him back and turned away after mean mugging Al for all he was worth.


    "Can you believe this f***ing white dude? He pulled a sword on me. A sword! Who uses a damn sword anymore?" Deshawn''s voice reached back to him as Devon''s lowered voice tried to talk his brother down.


    Whatever it was that had let Al stand calmly in front of nearly 300lbs of muscle and barely suppressed rage, left him along with the adrenaline.


    "I think I need to take exercise a little more seriously. I wasn''t designed for this kind of freaking stress," he muttered to himself.


    Over the next couple of weeks, he''d check on them every once in awhile. They actually weren''t doing bad for themselves and Deshawn actually had a lot better control over his actions than Al thought he would. He just about popped a gasket two days after their little tiff when he went to fill his car up only for his card to be denied.


    By the time he got home to find out what happened, the 300 in his checking account and the 8000 he had in his savings had been removed and returned with a few thousand more added like it was an apology. Grumbling, he backtracked to the gas station and took care of his other business before returning home. The rest of that evening, he went over the things he had seen while spying on them with the key and made some suggestions with detailed layouts.


    Afterwards he sent it with a scanned PDF attachment of a receipt for paid consultation fees. Towards the end of the second week, he sent another and responded to some of the more insulting criticisms that Deshawn leveled at him. To balance it out, Al admitted that the man was a great deal more level headed than he had originally thought and apologized for his initial view flavored heavily by how they had gotten to know each other.


    He didn''t really feel like offering an olive branch to the the man who had constantly badmouthed him but he recognized that quite a bit of Deshawn''s shoulder chip came from misplaced pride. It didn''t help that the man came from a background dealing with people who saw things like apologies and compromise as weakness. If the warning that he could see what they were up to mixed with a willingness to bury the hatchet wasn''t enough to turn Deshawn around, Al had no problems turning the tables and letting the man see what being an unreasonable prick would get him.


    A few days later, an event happened that hadn''t happened in awhile. One of the low dimensional shadows died. A few, in fact. It only really felt like one because of how they died. They had climbed.


    Their experience had been nothing like Orison''s romp through the abandoned astral home. They wandered in a strange and confusing place, desperately seeking any way back out. In the process, they had ran into and absorbed each other as a result of being drawn to the same ''thin spot''. Out of countless ones that they couldn''t sense or lead to certain death, they had found one with a nice coastal scene on the other side.


    The only problem was, as the newly fused shadow tumbled through the temporary gap in the fabric of reality and past the boundary crossing baptism, he had been too confused and muddleheaded to realize he was falling to his death from a great height in the air. As Al took in the force of their hard earned increase in existence, he felt a sense of difficult to describe melancholy. They had beat the odds long enough to transcend the limit they had started with only to be robbed at the first big milestone''s finish line by a cruel twist of coincidence.


    It was in no way a bad thing for the shadows to live long and productive lives. The more they earned, the more they brought to the joining afterwards. Were they to live on indefinitely, they might find themselves the inheritors rather than the donors but Al had to wonder if that part was actually true.


    He didn''t think it was a coincidence at all that he was the collector but even if the shadows couldn''t take over that part, Al wondered if one of the other colors could. If that were true, he wondered if Red would come to ''kill'' him under some misguided notion that it would make the survivor ''the one''. He certainly hoped not but, just in case, he was a great deal more generous with Green when sharing what he couldn''t safely contain or absorb before useful things were lost.


    He was slowly getting spiritually stronger and capable of handling more but that was far from a goal Al wanted to embrace. Foreign thoughts and feelings had slowly slipped in and been merging with him the whole time. He felt like he was on the verge of understanding something important but some vital piece of the puzzle was missing.


    After he had calmed down enough to fall back asleep, Al wondered if people really could die from seeing their death in a falling dream. The lurch his heart went through certainly felt like it held the ability to stop a weak one. A person close to having a heart attack most certainly could trigger one from such a jolt. With that and other grim thoughts gamboling through his head like malicious sheep, he faded back into unremembered dreams.


    The next day, he woke up with the feeling of melancholy not quite shaken off. After a nice cup of coffee, he felt better, if not completely chipper. When he used Presto to clean the coffee pot and the dishes, he made the discovery that his party favor squirt gun of a magic reserve had graduated to a dollar store water pistol. The magic channels that were sparse and feeble before were still sparse and feeble but stretched throughout his body rather than just a couple of fragile hairs that ran through the very basic head to heart to hand connection.


    It was just enough for him to start storing a small amount of essence in his body or run the couple of seconds worth of healing ability it took to actually accomplish anything. Whether body essence storage or a couple seconds heal, his channels would need a break afterwards to recover or they very well could ''break''. Two thoughts were born from that realization. Gains from the shadows were almost entirely spiritual or intellectual in nature and anything else was mostly fluke chance.


    More than ever, he rooted for the ones still struggling to ''make it'' for as long as they could. No matter how much he feared too many joining him or sympathized with their plight, he couldn''t share gains with them like he could Red and Green. He couldn''t even actively reach for their connections in quite the same way.


    Shaking himself free of those thoughts, he went through his morning routine. Under the new threats introduced into his life, he had decided to step up his exercise game even though he hated every moment of it. No matter how hard he tried to psych himself, every moment he spent doing it felt like a moment he could spend catching up on a web novel or a streaming series. There almost always was some kind of entertaining distraction trying to pull him away from it.


    It made him feel a little crazy but it was almost like it was his job to grab inspiration, tease meaningful things from games and shows. He could believe there was some truth to that. And if so, he hadn''t been doing that job very well. For a person bent on enjoying their life and far too aware of a greater picture, such things had lost a great deal of their appeal but escapism had become a heavily ingrained habit. The desire to procrastinate and relax was an old nemesis stretching back for as far as he could remember.


    Having completed his morning torture and finishing it off with the catharsis of a hot shower to ease the aches, he checked out his noticeable progress with a flicker of narcissistic delight and posed in front of the mirror. That''s when it hit him. There were other progresses that had nothing to do with his newly found fragile discipline.


    The thinning hair on the top of his head was coming back in but it was much lighter than his own and not the occasional gray one he expected to see. A certain amount of ''extra'' noticed in specific areas, that he had written off as the effect of dropping some pounds and getting more in shape, were more than he could justify with such a flimsy excuse anymore. There was a touch too much youthfulness to write off as clean living and the dark green eyes he had always thought of as one of his few redeeming features had a slight splash of blue close to the edge of either eye.


    A sense of violated invasion washed over him before he got a grip and calmed down. It was a part of the inevitable he had to accept. Despite the slow creep of changes spreading across him, he was still recognizable as himself. And even if he wasn''t thrilled about it, other than the eyes, he didn''t have a reason to complain from an aesthetic point of view. Somehow, that made him a little angry for reasons he didn''t feel comfortable in exploring.


    Done for the day with a self inspection that would become an obsessive part of his morning routine, Al went to check the development of a new urban legend online. Ghost Dog of Chicory had it''s own web page and a decent following. It even had a Metube channel with a couple of videos that sported several hundred thousand views. Eye witness testimony about the spectral hound created from Tait''s scroll grew wilder and more detailed, taking on a life of its own.


    With the faint understanding of faith and its associated abilities he had, Al wondered if the fervor created by the incident would actually create a kind of thought form that would continue haunting the area. Over the last couple of weeks, the incident had taken on a somewhat religious overtone. How the spectral hound had chased the kids and one small lady out of the house before wrecking the basement kitchen into exploding, had taken a ''protect the innocent, destroy evil'' kind of vibe in the minds and hearts of people.


    The only thing that rubbed him the wrong way beyond all the goodness inherent, was how ugly the treatment of one voice among the witness crowd was treated. A fourteen year old girl who lost her mother in the explosion, the one fatal casualty and a ''cook'' for the ''kitchen'', didn''t have anything nice to say about the ghost dog so many others thought greatly of. She was a vocal spokesperson for the ''adversary'', quick to point out flaws in other''s perception and demonstrate that the incident wasn''t some miracle but calculated revenge of some kind.


    Despite being labeled cruelly with ''daughter of the devil'' style ostracism, it didn''t stop her from adding her voice to the narrative. She was cool, logical and had a belly full of hate for whoever was responsible for the death of her mother. She wasn''t some idealist and knew what her mother was doing didn''t contribute anything good to the world but she loved the woman who had made hard choices to care and provide for her.


    Under the guise of shell accounts, he anonymously set up a 2,500 dollar, five year maturity college fund and some department store gift cards sent to her aunt''s post office box. There would likely be some additional outpouring of subtle support from others mixed among the hate mail and he hoped his addition would help balance it out. He didn''t particularly feel guilt for the girl''s loss. It was more an acknowledgment of her pain and validation of her perspective.


    It was a valuable lesson for Al, who had lived a rather mundane and mostly sheltered life. There was no black and white when it came to war, no matter the size. When there was loss, there would be victims. A man might be a great scourge but his children or the children of his supporters were no more or less innocent than the children of the ''heroes'' lost in taking that scourge down.


    There were better and worse ways to do things, however. The ''better'' ways in this case, would have possibly ended with Devon being significantly harmed or killed for taking too long or provoking resistance from the enemy. There was a little regret that burned in the back of Al''s mind but he didn''t feel like he''d done anything he couldn''t live with. Regardless, he wouldn''t want to test that by meeting that girl or exposing himself to anymore of their personal story than he already had. He didn''t trust his logical self to be able to stand firm against the emotional with White''s addition to the mix.


    Aside from tying up a few small loose ends from his ''explosive'' night, Al looked into moving from his city apartment to a more rural area. With urban sprawl creeping its way up to and around local farming communities, it was difficult to find a nice little patch of private country without buying. Going a few more unconventional routes, he finally found a little Heritage Building listing that most home owners wouldn''t touch with a ten foot pole, nestled into the crook of a nature preserve that even further limited what could be done to and with the property.


    5,000 dollars down on a low interest loan, two sneaky uses of the key and a meeting with a member of the Heritage Preservation Committee and he was ready to move in a couple of days. He was also down for a perceived debt of around 20,000 or more in emergency mandatory home repairs that had to match strict guidelines. He was fine with that. Even if the world required his magic to come from within every time unless it was ritual, he could squeeze out an occasional mend between his channels'' resting times.


    It took some doing and a little more of his once again dwindling account but he set up a work from home arraignment with the clinic and a post office box in another city among other small details. A less intuitive and more deductive reasoning told him that things weren''t as calm as they seemed and his own situation would only grow more complicated in the future. He wasn''t completely ready yet but he was getting there.

 202 The Fool 7

    He hadn''t really known it until then but Deshawn''s beef had been wrapped up in the perceived threat and opportunism he thought Al represented. Once their white ''friend'' had actively done something helpful to the plan and not just give complicated and hard to completely understand advice, the older brother began to see his usefulness. Having something on the scales that was tangible proof of his goodwill was what the older brother had wanted all along.


    Apparently, helping the man save his brother didn''t really count because it had been too ''out there'' and didn''t really disprove that Devon was a useful pawn. Helping him detox had come with its own set of sketchy things that Deshawn''s huge amount of skepticism still hadn''t completely laid to rest. Devon''s candidness with his older brother over how he and Al had started things off did little to help the cause. Even Al himself sometimes wondered why he didn''t really hold any animosity over being woke up with a gun in his face.


    Because of Deshawn''s growing but shaky friendliness, Al couldn''t couldn''t turn down the man''s invitation to go out to the man''s favorite place to ''kick it''. Too little too late, Al found out that it was a strip club. And even though he hated such places on principle, he had fun despite himself. It probably helped that Deshawn was one of the most naturally intimidating people there that night and that stopped a lot of possible small harassment from bothering them.


    As the older brother took him back home, barely but legal to drive, Al said, "Don''t you feel bad for some of those girls? I mean, I know everybody''s got their own problems but I have a hard time believing that most of them woke up one day and decided that being a stripper was what they wanted to do with their lives."


    Deshawn smirked. "That''s your problem. You think too much. The smart b*tches gets their money and go to school or whatever... and the ones that ain''t so smart become hoes.


    "The ones that were dumb hoes to begin with, you can''t save them no matter what you do. Look at Hunter''s mom. She a hoe but she ain''t a dumb hoe and she''s doin just fine. Think she just hooked up with a white dude that''s like a manager at a factory or something. She''s good."


    When the man dropped him off at his house that he just barely decided to let them know of, Deshawn looked a little awkward. "Hey, uh, I wonder if you''re up for a small favor?"


    Ignoring the slight sinking feeling in his stomach, Al invited him in and the man gave his pitch. While he was locked up, he had a cellmate who helped him get his GED. It was a young man who was bound over from Juvenile for getting into too many fights. The brothers were thinking of ways to get crew that was a bit more respectable to flesh out their employee list and Deshawn brought him up.


    The man wanted to know if Al could work his detox hoodoo on the young man. Apparently, after Deshawn left, the last few weeks hadn''t been kind to the guy after he lost his protector. Before the ''kid'' had even been taken into the system, his family life was pretty normal until he was caught stripping copper out of the house they had lost to the bank.


    It was one dumb, impulsive move that had started a cycle of bad. Al was ready to talk his way out of it, however, when Deshawn brought up that ''Patrick'' wanted to become an architect and had worked with his dad a lot before losing him in a roofing accident. It was eerily similar enough to an early Orison memory of someone that Al couldn''t say no. The curiosity was just too strong.


    "How did he get hooked on something AFTER getting in prison?" Al asked, confused.


    Deshawn, looking embarrassed and oddly defensive, said, "Sh*t happens in there that you don''t even want to know about. And the people leaving, they don''t want anyone to know about it either. He''s not fam but he''s good peoples. Me and my brother got him out and want to give him a job. As long as you can get him off that ''trash brown'' they got circling around in there, he''ll be good."


    Al sighed and said, "I can''t believe I''m signing up for another round of this. At least let him know what he''s in for so I don''t have to go through attempted murder and r*pe accusations again. You can stick around and see the whole thing for yourself. Maybe it''ll let you put the some of those old worries of yours to rest."


    With wide eyes, Deshawn said, "You think I want to see that? I''d do anything for my fams but a few years back, I gave my home-girl''s sister twenty bucks to look after Devon when he got the flu real bad and moms was... away. Give me a dead body to deal with over a real sick person any day!"


    Al went to a drawer and pulled out a mints tin, handing it to Deshawn. "I don''t know what it''s like but I know some days are easy and some days are... harder. Hold onto that and if you''re having a hard day, they might make the difference. Maybe they could help someone you know make it over a bad day too."


    Confused, the man looked inside at the ''mints'' that smelled of herbs. "What''s in them?"


    Al said, "I can tell you all but one of the ingredients and you''ll bug me to death about that just like you did the smoothies. Just... remember you have them. They don''t make you feel good or anything like that and they can be habit forming if you lean on them too heavy but they can ease aches and cravings.


    "I just remembered how to make them not too long ago or I''d have already got you some. The last thing I want to do is have a round two with you. I think you barely kept yourself from killing me the first time. I sure as hell had to check my temper once or twice."


    The man asked, "Will they make me fail a drug test?"


    "No but if you take more than one in a six hour period, they can make you nauseous... Maybe mess with your vision and hearing or make you tired. That shouldn''t happen, though. If you feel like you need more than two a day, you''re probably already misusing them." Al added.


    They shared a few more pieces of information and caught each other up to speed on plans moving forward before Deshawn had to call it. He had to jack a porch up and fix the foundation which sounded like an all day job that would start early.


    "Moms is the only one in this world I''ll apologize to but I was wrong about you... You need me, I got you," he said and then drove off.


    Al muttered, "I have no doubt you mean that but I hope you don''t ever have to prove it."


    The next day, Devon stopped by and visited for a bit while they got Patrick ready for the first step. The young man wasn''t anything like the Patrick in Al''s dream memories but there was a hint of familiarity. He was curious to ask a few questions but judging by the slightly zombie-like state the young man was in, it was fairly obvious that the brothers had given him something to keep him from starting withdraws.


    Since Devon was there, Al enlisted his help. And even though there were a few parts that the younger brother squicked at, he rolled up his sleeves and dived in. ''Work face'' on, the younger brother watched through the first part while Patrick sobbed in the shower and said things Al made Devon promise not to bring up later. The scared pleadings of a sick person where something no one should use to amuse themselves in Al''s mind.


    Somewhere along the line, Patrick started getting weaker, dangerously weak. His pulse was starting to get thready and he hovered in and out of consciousness. Al was stumped while Devon started looking at him oddly. Al''s soul hadn''t reached a stage where he could do much with the feeble spirit sight he had and it was a joke to consider he had even a fraction of the honed intent dream Orison had.


    Out of the weak stamina bolstering potion that Al had been taking little bits at a time from for use in the smoothies he had made for Deshawn and himself, there was less than half left, A couple of drops helped Patrick a little before he started slipping again. There was something greater wrong with the young man. Torn, Al thought about the one and only disease treating potion he had and weighed the situation against future need.


    It would take some time but with diligence, Al could squeeze out a magic version someday. If he didn''t use the potion on Patrick, they''d have to take him to the hospital and there was a chance he might not make it. If Patrick died, there would be a lot of lost trust and faith in Al''s ability. With a bitterness welling up inside being contradicted with the feeling of being a ''good person'', he administered the potion to Patrick and watched the detox fast forward while expelling some yellowish and watery pink discharges from various areas sporadically.


    With mixed feelings, Al laid in with a heavier dose of supporting supplements and even a heal that left him feeling weak and drained himself before he finally managed to get the young man out of danger. Nearly nauseous from sudden fatigue, Al asked Devon to keep an eye on their ''patient'' while he took a nap. Early the next morning, barely feeling like he''d been asleep for a few minutes even though it had been hours, a tired Devon woke him back up.


    With a lewd and suggestive leer, the younger brother said, "There''s a cute little white girl here to see you. Deshawn knew you were holding sh*t back on us, but damn!"


    Scrambling out of the covers, Al padded his way to the living room to see that his niece was trying a little too hard to be ''chipper'' which was a sure sign something was really wrong.


    Stopping the rolling speed fire of pleasantries, Al said, "Myra, what''s going on? You know you''ll always be welcomed in my home and I''m happy to see you but you don''t need to work me up to it. If there''s something I can do to help, just say so."


    His niece said, "It was a bad night. Chet tried to commit suicide and he won''t tell anyone why. His mom''s going to keep him held in mental health as long as she can... Al, we''re going to lose the apartment. We were barely making it."


    The last time such a thing happened, him and his ex helped her keep their apartment until Chet got back out. The biggest problem was that Myra was terrible at managing money. The more they helped, the more she seemed to need. It wasn''t until the first time that Erika had given him an ultimatum, that he had stopped. Myra ended up living with Al''s mom, the grandmother that raised her, nearly up to when Al''s mom''s health had taken a turn for the worse.


    It was a bad and complicated time that ended with Al and his sister not being on good terms due to her boyfriend fighting for every bit of Al''s mom''s stuff as he could get. The man had almost taken them to court when Al''s sister didn''t get all the jewelry which was insistently split between Al''s sister and Myra. One of the reasons why Al liked Chet even though the man had so many issues was because he calmly supported Myra through her grief and stood by Al''s side to lend what help he could with things.


    Al had a premonition that things weren''t as they seemed. He had a hard time believing that all the little baby steps of progress that Myra''s boyfriend had made in dealing with his demons would suddenly be thrown in the garbage. He seemed like he was doing relatively decent the last time they''d met a few weeks ago. Then again, depression wasn''t something that easy to gauge. Add some relatively serious chronic health problems and it wasn''t that clear at all.


    "I''ll get a moving company scheduled to come pick up your things. I got a spare room here and when Chet gets out, you guys can take a couple of months to figure things out. A COUPLE of months, Myra. You need to start saving up money now. Does that work?" Al said.


    Wringing her hands and looking dissatisfied, she said, "Couldn''t you just help with the rent for a little while? I promise, I''ll take care of the rest."


    Al sighed. "It could be months before he''s released this time and it''ll take time for him to find a job again once he''s out. To be honest, I don''t really know if I can swing that much your way and I don''t think it would be a good idea even if I could because you''d still be broke and struggling. At least this way, you have the ability to save money and I won''t be losing so much."


    After a little more back and forth, she left resigned and with a moving truck date.


    Turning around to see a slightly hungry look on Devon''s face as the young man watched her walk out, Al said, "My sister is all but lost to me which makes Myra my number one priority in this world. Her boyfriend is the center of hers. If you can manage to do what my mother and me combined couldn''t before we gave up and accepted it, then more power to you. But if you hurt her, we are way more than done."


    Face twisting up, Devon said, "Can''t a brother look? Damn!"


    Al threw his hands up and walked away to check on Patrick.


    Starting at a lower point of health than Deshawn had, it ended up taking longer for Patrick to bounce back. He was a great deal more thankful and polite, even in his worst moments, than the older brother had been but he was also quiet, sullen and withdrawn. If not for Deshawn, coming in to give the occasional pep talk and almost fatherly like support, Al had no idea what the young man would have gotten up to after he was recovered.


    It was like some vital spark had been blown out in him and the older black man''s guidance and care was slowly building the kindling that would ignite it again. It was strange seeing that side of the older brother but it wasn''t something new for Patrick. The young man had the ghost of a friendly smile every time Deshawn showed up to check on him.


    As Patrick recovered and started helping out with some light work around the house, Al noticed that the young man''s dull brown hair showed coppery tints. And once he''d gotten a little sun on him, a sprinkle of freckles started dotting across the bridge of his nose and upper cheeks. It was a subtle thing but it gave Al a little shock. The ghost of the Patrick from his earliest dream memories could vaguely be seen from time to time.


    A couple of days later and Patrick was mostly still hanging around at Al''s because he had just finished his first home repair job and didn''t have enough money to get a place yet. That meant, when Myra came by two days before she''d be moving in herself, he was still there. She was hysterical because she''d gotten a text that said Chet was breaking up with her to ''focus on him'' and wouldn''t respond to her return texts or allow her to visit.


    When Devon stopped by two days later, he saw that Patrick was being chummy with her and trying to cheer her up while Al was at work. His response was to give the young man enough ''forward pay'' to get himself a place and sent him as ''emergency help'' on a job that was light handed. By the time Al got home, it was Devon who was being all chummy and trying to cheer her up.


    Myra''s slightly alarmed uncle hadn''t been overly concerned about Patrick''s friendliness because that''s all it really was. The young man was far too low on self esteem to make any serious plays and it was somewhat mutually beneficial but Devon was playing for keeps. THAT young man would take what he could get without hesitation and Myra was vulnerable enough that it wouldn''t take long for something to happen.


    Al asked for Myra to go with him, earning an irritated and slightly angry look from Devon. He grabbed up all that he could cram of Chet''s stuff, still boxed up from being dropped off that afternoon, into his car and Myra was in the passenger seat with a determined look on her face. She had a pretty good idea about what was going to happen and was all for it.


    Before he left, he turned back to Devon and said, "You like her, fine. But I''ll be damned if you''re going to waltz in here and take advantage of her while she''s upset and treat her like a disposable f*** toy!"


    Now fully angry himself, Devon said, "Don''t act like you know me!"


    Dryly, Al cut off the rest of the younger brother''s tirade, "I don''t have to know you to know what you were doing. Don''t treat me like I''m stupid. Once she''s had a chance to calm down from whatever is going on, I''m hands off. Until then, you''re hands off unless you want to lose them."

 203 The Fool 8

    The confusion on the week later break up message was revealed when they reached Chet''s mother''s house to drop off his stuff and get answers. Al and Chet''s mother had never met face to face before. So, she hadn''t really thought much before answering the door in funeral attire.


    The look of pale shock on Myra''s face had broken the woman and she sat down listlessly on the front porch crying while Myra muttered words of denial between trying to get Chet''s mother to tell her that it wasn''t what it looked like. An older man who Al assumed was a second husband or boyfriend, joined Chet''s mother on the front porch to console her. That moment shattered what little disbelief existed in Myra''s heart as she took off running like she could escape the fear and emotional pain physically.


    Al had never been so glad that his fragile discipline on exercise had held true for the last month or so. She had only grown faster since she was a teenage girl. The couple of years she had mostly walked to her fast food job had her in good sprinting shape. He barely caught her and dragged her back to the safety of the sidewalk when she just about dashed headlong into traffic.


    Once he had princess carried her back to the car and got her calmed down enough that she would stay there, Al asked the man with Chet''s mom what the real story was. The man explained that Chet had come back from a routine checkup on his chronic pancreatitis that had been acting up a lot more than normal. It turned out that the initial flare up had masked what had been very early stage pancreatic cancer.


    Somehow, along the few years he had it, another cancer screening that probably should have been done at some point hadn''t been. It wasn''t until he''d nearly been hospitalized after another attack of abdominal pain that his doctor put in for the blood work on a cancer screening. Putting two and two together, Al realized that the day he had taken them out to dinner, the money Chet had asked him for was round trip bus fare to the hospital because he''d been called back in instead of being able to get results over the phone as usual.


    What he didn''t know what to think about was Chet''s second successful attempt at suicide in the ward. He wasn''t insensitive enough to ask how that was even possible but considering the slightly confused look on the older man''s face, it''s possible that only the hospital still knew. Either way, they had returned from Chet''s funeral not but just an hour or so before Al and Myra arrived. Oblivious to the end, their actions had robbed Myra of closure but in the broader picture, Chet himself had done that first.


    In an awkward state, Al and the stranger moved Chet''s stuff into the garage. Before Al left, Chet''s mom pulled herself together long enough to hug Myra and apologize for all she was worth, leading to a mutual but less dramatic breakdown. The woman''s ''man friend'' of whatever variety he might be, flagged them down to give Myra the cemetery and plot information.


    "Do you feel like you can handle seeing him now or do you want to wait?" Al said softly into the silence of their commute back.


    Knocked out of her private thoughts, she decided she wanted to see him. While she just kind of stood there, staring at the newly sodded plot, Al texted a message with the rough details to Deshawn and asked to have a few days before they handled anymore mutual business. Normally, it would have been Devon but if the young man had rushed over to lend a sympathetic shoulder to Myra, Al might have lost it.


    Distracted, Al missed the moment his niece''s grieving face had taken on an angry look and she managed to kick the tombstone twice before he grabbed her up. While she flailed, kicking at the air and shrieking her rage incoherently at the sky, he didn''t know whether to take that as a good or bad thing. From his perspective, it was better for her to be mad than inconsolable but he remembered all too well that a burst of rage could easily be followed by that feeling anyway, with guilt on top.


    When they finally got back home, Myra had worn herself out. While he was getting her situated in the guest room that had suddenly graduated into being hers for who knows how long, Deshawn let himself into the house. Al worked a quick lavender ritual on her before seeing what the man wanted. To his surprise, Deshawn was carrying a rather weighted looking small gym bag.


    Setting it down on the dining room table, the older brother said, "I been holding this back for a few now. You been doing for us but we ain''t been doing for you. And Devon was right, it does make me feel better.


    "I know you didn''t ask but I insist. I didn''t know how you might want it. So, I brought it like this. Seemed like the right time, sh*t going on with your fam and all."


    Al looked at the bag with mixed emotions and said, "I appreciate it but just remember that the main goal is to reach a point where you don''t need the key to be comfortable anymore. I know it''s hard to notice but it really is slowly eating away at you guys."


    Deshawn said, "We got a good rotation and we keep an eye on each other. Sometimes Devon pushes harder but I got him in check... I been meaning to ask, when you said it takes bites out of a soul, what does that mean? It''s not going to make us go to Hell or something, right?"


    Al was too drained to laugh. "No and I don''t want to confuse you with a lot of stuff that won''t matter much to you. There''s a hard middle to a soul that''s pretty much okay no matter what but outside of that there''s a couple of different layers. It really depends on the person what those layers are like.


    "The point where it wouldn''t really do anything bad at all would be something like once or twice a month spread out but that''s hardly doable and make it useful. At the rate you guys are going, using it a couple of times a week apiece... You have somewhere between four to six months before you''d feel like something was wrong. After that, you''d need to wait a couple full years of experience rich living before it would be low consequence to start using it again."


    Deshawn thought about it and said, "What about after that? If we were to keep going the way we are, I mean."


    Al shrugged. "It''s different between people. For sure, you''d start losing lifespan. The aura around you would weaken enough that any kind of supernatural threat would be much more threatening to you. Easier to get sick and harder to recover would be very likely. The rest is hard to tell.


    "Towards the end, you''d feel and look much older than you should. But before that would kill you, your soul would weaken to the point that the core would just disconnect. You''re a church going family?... If you''ve heard the term ''give up the ghost'', that''s pretty much what it would be like."


    The older brother broke out in goosebumps and shivered a little before quickly changing the subject. Asking about the house repairs, Al lead him around. Before it was all said and done, he ended up asking about some of the materials he''d need to get some side restorations done. Discussing how he could use old standing foundations like a smokehouse that used to be on the property, they came up with a plan to put up some amenities he wanted without having to go through a hellish approval process.


    Over the next few days, Al discovered that having Deshawn''s goodwill was almost as scary as being actively disliked. Like clockwork, the man would drag Patrick over to Al''s after work or on days off to help with all the things Al had wish listed during their talk. The man wasn''t satisfied with not feeling like he owed someone something. He seemed bent on making Al feel the sting of being indebted and poor Patrick had been dragged along for the ride.


    Watching the two go at the projects around his place, he started to get the impression that Deshawn was tickled having a shy little ''white boy'' as his side kick. There wasn''t really anything to complain about. The older brother might be working Patrick hard but he always had an eye on him and it was obvious that the young man was looking healthier and more lively by the day. By the time the novelty wore off, Patrick would probably be ready to stand on his own.


    In an effort to give Myra something to feel good about, Al broke out the feminine personal use herbal and alchemical goods that White''s daughter had presented to her father to get his warm approval. Hidden within them was a good deal more magical kick than Al had fist thought since some of the recipes weren''t even in the memories that he had inherited. It wasn''t anything dangerous except to Al''s nerves as Patrick and even Deshawn started taking notice of the ethereal and fragile ''beauty'' drifting around the house like a Hollywood fantasy of a tragic heroine.


    It was during one such moment that Al caught them ''admiring the scenery'', ominous news arrived. As Myra came back from a walk along the preserve trail near their house, ringed in blue butterflies and wearing a sad smile, she had accidentally created an otherworldly moment that left the two men spellbound until a vulgar ringtone broke the enchantment. All eyes were on Deshawn. As the man listened to what was being said, storm clouds started building behind his eyes.


    Without explanation, he directed Patrick to his work van and they left. Al took a moment to pick up their tools and put the tarp in place over the sauna, disguised as a smokehouse, they were building. On the chance that whatever was going on would end up involving him, Al logged some time finishing up his workload for record keeping and had Myra order whatever dinner struck her fancy.


    While they were relaxing to pizza and a movie that Myra had seen a dozen times but still enjoyed, Devon called. "Things are getting stupid down here. Jaffin beat charges on some kind of technicality. Now, he''s got his crew that ain''t locked up, burning sh*t down all over the place. That includes our office and moms'' house.


    "I wanted to set Moms and Hunter up in a hotel downtown but Deshawn thought they''d be safer out of town. Would you let them crash your place for a few days. We been thinking about moving up somewhere greener lately, anyway."


    Al said, "Yeah, it''s fine for them to stay a few days while the two of you house hunt."


    With a heavy sigh, he started moving his things to the fully furnished basement a bit ahead of schedule and barely managed to clean out his room before Macy and Hunter arrived.


    "Mrs Daily, you have a choice between the master bedroom or we can fix up the crafts room behind the kitchen if you don''t want to deal with the stairs,''" Al said warmly after the awkward pleasantries were done.


    Macy''s eyes widened a bit and she said, "Master bedroom? Where do you sleep, the basement!?"


    Al smiled widely. "After today, I do. It''s a dream man cave come true down there. No small amount of thanks to your eldest. If it was any more moisture proof, I''d have to actually add some to keep from getting nose bleeds. He''s got a gift."


    After some small talk and seeing that the stairs weren''t all that bad, Macy said that she''d rather have to deal with some stairs than have to share a bathroom with everybody. Likewise, Hunter chose that he''d rather deal with an army cot and emptying a portable AC unit his dad left, every morning and before bed, if it meant he could have the whole attic to himself.


    In the attic, Al rolled out a sectional piece of extra thick padding and a cut of carpet and told the teen with a chuckle, "You mess this carpet up, you''ll be dealing with your dad, not me. And if you start pacing around on the other side of the attic while Myra''s still sleeping, you''ll be dealing with her. We haven''t replaced the boards on that side yet and they''re crazy creaky."


    Hunter smiled and flexed his dad given knowledge. "When Pops redid Nanna''s attic, he just used some kind of special glue and wood screws. Made it good as new and saved her a whole bunch of money."


    Al looked down at the darkly stained planks of maple leading up to the old, slightly grayed oak. There was a sudden thought that maybe Deshawn was trying to keep him from being embarrassed or was feeling extra generous. According to the man, it was some doctored up ''reclaimed'' from another job anyway.


    To keep from feeling embarrassed in front of the man''s son, Al said, "And miss treasure hunting? Besides, my niece didn''t like how it sounded as if someone was pacing back and forth up here sometimes... Why, I could swear I heard someone muttering about not being able to find their tin. I thought it was Patrick but it turned out, he was checking the drain from the old greenhouse foundation."


    Hunter didn''t have the reaction he had expected. The teen went through his things and pulled out an old tape recorder with a small microphone attached, asking him exactly where he heard the ''phenomenon''. Luckily, it was summer vacation because the poor kid looked exhausted the next day as he slowly went over some of his recording material before taking a short nap and doing it some more.


    Macy helped herself to the kitchen and made a mess of fried potatoes, scrambled eggs and bacon for everybody that morning. Around noon, Al was taking a break from doing his record record keeping workload for the day and caught her going through the kitchen cupboards with a frown. He had a sudden inkling that being anywhere else would be a good idea but she was sharp.


    "Al, what in Gawd''s name is going on with this kitchen!? You got all them fancy utensils and next to nothing to use it all on. Do y''all live on cereal, pizza and junk food around here!?" Macy said, judgment pouring from every look and gesture around the relatively bare cupboards.


    Ears burning, Al said, "Well, I suppose it''s been awhile since I went grocery shopping but there WAS some healthy essentials in here. I originally only bought for myself but-"


    With a sharp gesture from her hand but a kind smile, she said, "I don''t need ya life story. Just do what good mens are supposed to do. Fork over some green and let a woman who knows what she''s doing, handle it... What''s that girl o your''s name again?"


    Al was about to respond when she shouted a little shrilly, "Hey Mimi! That uncle of yours got my wool gathering grandson chasing ghosts. Help an old lady do some shopping."


    The smell of bacon might have lured her from bed before the crack of noon but Myra had returned to her room for some more lazy lounging before her busy day of moping around. Macy wasn''t having it. With some sharp but good natured ribbing, the older woman had her out the door in nearly half an hour record time.


    The rest of the day was spent with the woman getting Myra''s help with this or that while subtly growing horror dawned on Macy''s face at how little the girl knew how to do. Over the following days, Myra''s life was filled with learning how to do all the things a young woman should know according to her nearly spartan teacher. Al almost interceded but changed his mind after seeing just how much each new successfully fulfilled task was elevating her mood and granting her a sense of self worth she hadn''t had before, one drop at a time.


    Whatever was going on in the brothers'' lives, it wasn''t including house hunting. But considering how much of a positive affect having Macy and Hunter around was, Al didn''t even bat an eye when Deshawn asked to extend their stay. He happily agreed.


    It bothered Al that the brothers were up to something and made sure to only have the key on them when they were using it. He could see the concealed anger and determination in their eyes the few times they stopped by. He decided to let it go the same way he ignored Deshawn''s occasional lingering interactions with his niece and how the man was subconsciously a little vicious when warning off his younger brother''s ''anything but innocent'' advances.


    Although Myra wasn''t doing anything to encourage their attention, Al could see she was enjoying it. They were both enjoying the presence of Macy. And Hunter was worming into their affection in his own oddball way. It wasn''t hard to see the direction of things, assuming nothing tragic happened. Al desperately hoped that the gentle summer days would continue without much faith they would.

 204 The Fool 9

    "No wonder you hardly ever come upstairs. What you going to put over there?" She asked.


    Al looked up from his computer and said, "I thought I might put in a pool table and dart board. Maybe a minibar and card table instead. I haven''t really decided yet."


    "Now, stop me if I''m wrong. Are you going to wait and see if Deshawn going snatch up that Mimi? If he do, you going to ask him what he thinks look good over there, aren''t you?" the overly sharp woman asked.


    Avoiding addressing what she was getting at, Al said, "I thought I''d ask him anyway. He has a good eye for comfort and detail."


    A steely glint in her eye, she said, "See, and that there give you away more than anything. If Hunter wants to hear his-self a ghost, he only got to put that microphone up to your mouth... Why, I bet that little girl upstairs name is the only one on the title of this house...


    "They ain''t seen it yet. If they do, they don''t know what it mean. You dying, got someone after you? Why you got to be ready to disappear? Do it got something to do with that key?"


    He sighed and said, "I don''t plan on being gone anytime soon. I just have to be ready... And don''t put the cart before the horse on Deshawn and my niece. Just because I haven''t stepped in doesn''t mean I won''t if there''s a reason to. That said, I would rest easier if I knew she had a solid guy looking after her. She''s not the type to be able to stand on her own. At least, not yet."


    With a bit of challenge in her eyes, she said, "You think Deshawn''s a solid guy?"


    Al said, "If it was a month ago? No. Now? Yes, I would. Before, he hated his addiction but now he fears it. He has things to lose. He won''t have any trouble letting go of that key when he needs to. I believe he''ll help Devon let go of it too... Like I said, he used to hate his addiction but now he fears it."


    The woman tried to laugh but it turned into a few weak sobs before she pulled herself back together quickly. "I think you right... You know, when I first heard what was going on, I thought you was the devil. Whatever you is ain''t nothing godly but it ain''t the devil neither."


    As if a weight was lifted from her chest, she took an easy breath and laughed. "If you is, you done got soft in your old age!"


    Chuckling, Al said, "The only soft thing about me is this last bit of stubborn belly fat. If anyone''s the devil in this house, it''s you. Always tempting me to go back for seconds. As if I can say no."


    He was ready to just chuckle and move on with his own affairs when he heard Myra scream too but it was one that transformed into rage. It was a scream that ended abruptly. His heart dropped to his stomach as he bound up the stairs.


    Quietly, he opened the pantry door and peeked out to see that one man was standing over the two, a thin streak of blood on the side of a baseball bat. He wasn''t exactly sure what happened after that because all he could see was red. A shouting woman''s voice cut through and told him to quit beating the dead men and get rid of the bodies so she could call an ambulance.


    Within the red fog, Al realized that his niece was hurt and that knocked him out of his temporary insanity cold. Rushing over to her, he reached out to see that he was covered in a suit, two bullets lodged in the forearm. Putting that discovery to the back of his mind, he quickly checked her out to see that she wasn''t breathing right.


    Her neck was bent an unnatural angle but she was somehow still alive. Carefully, he trickled about half of the better healing potion he had down her throat while slowly straightening her head out. It wasn''t necessary. Unlike the ones he or the miasma had made, this one had a touch of faith essence inside and that meant it was capable of fixing things while they healed.


    She wasn''t quite ready to face the waking world yet but physically, there wasn''t anything wrong that Al could tell. After corking the rest of the potion and storing it, he checked on Hunter who was looking at the ceiling with glassy, unfocused eyes, a huge knot raising on his head. He ran the most amount of healing he could without rupturing his channels and rubbed in a couple of drops out of the lesser healing potion into the swollen bump before letting a couple more into Hunter''s mouth.


    He said, "Don''t call an ambulance. Just keep an eye on them. I need to make sure that there aren''t any more people on the property."


    As soon as he stepped outside, two guns fired simultaneously. One hit off his helmet and the other in his arm, spinning him around. Laying on the front porch, he decided to play possum to see if they would approach. Only one did and that one let off two more into the helmet, making Al''s world spin in concussive pain and nausea.


    Once the man was in reaching distance, he drew back to stomp Al only to have the leg he was standing on sheered off at the thigh. Al had pulled the minor enchanted blade out and swung it as hard as he could in his position. Slipping in arterial spray, and slightly staggering from disorientation, he gave his best try to reach the other man.


    Getting closer, Al recognized the fat braids. It was Jaffin. As the man slipped back into his SUV, he shot at Al''s legs, knocking the unbalanced man back down again. While Jaffin peeled out, sending a spray of dirt, grass and loose gravel flying, Al activated the meager store of essence in his body.


    Bounding up to his feet, Al took off at a dead sprint, diving and barely catching the man''s bumper. For all of a couple of seconds, Al''s gloved fingers were sinking into the hatch enough to make hand holds but then started feeling weak. With nearly everything he had left, Al punched the back glass out and started pulling himself into the SUV. A moment later, three consecutive bullets to the visor cracked the helmet and sent Al careening back out to roll on asphalt.


    If Jaffir had kept going, he''d have been in the clear but the man decided to stop and put the SUV in reverse to run Al over. All in all, it hadn''t been a bad idea and if he had succeeded, Al would have most likely died. A gun shot hitting the wheel coming right at his head made Jaffir swerve just enough to miss as Al watched the blown tire warble in slow motion, inches in front of his face.


    Drawing on the ring, Al laid out the spiraling magic circle while feebly throwing a few sprigs of lavender. A half second later, a drowsy Jaffir slammed the back of his SUV into a tree, instantly alert again. Spooked and ready to make a run for it, he put his abused vehicle in drive but two gun shots later, he was staring blankly ahead. Macy had finished what Al had started.


    Feeling hungry, thirsty, weak and so tired he could barely keep his eyes open, Al struggled to his feet and shuffled back towards the house. Looking towards Macy, who was looking back with fear in her eyes, Al disengaged the suit. He was about to speak when he suddenly realized that the only reason he had been able to stand at all was because of it and collapsed unconscious.


    ***


    It was the dream of being the plane but something was different. There was a sense of anticipation. The lady who was one but two had sent it many gifts when she brought her afterlife planes to join their fates to its own. It had grown as much as it could but there were still too many things missing. It could have begun comprehending the laws it was missing to allow the blossoming of creation but it would need all of its living parts to become one with it which was something it understood to be undesirable.


    Al felt he was carrying what the planar will needed but the only way to give it was to give up on leaving the dream. In a flash of understanding, he realized that the colors the key had gathered from the Camdis shard were never meant for him or the other Orisons at all. They were meant for the three potentials that had dwelt within the soul ring. They were a collection of reality laws and were meant to be legacies for his children.


    They would live and, upon passing, they would inherit to be reborn as tier four entities with a set of laws waiting to be mastered. Vaguely, he could understand that such a thing had been possible because Keita wasn''t all she had appeared to be and a portion of that had remained with the key. He could only guess that whatever she was, or had been, the only clue laid in the voices and visions that clogged her mortal mind to child-like simplicity.


    Such a thought lead him down a rabbit hole of other thoughts, such as Rithus'' own simplicity when they met. The man had a strong intuition that only became stronger after Orison awakened him as a climber. Other pieces of that puzzle tickled at the edges of his spiritual mind; like Jay''s autistic niece, the Kaleidoscope Program and Aurora''s reaction to knowing about them.


    Any other thoughts along that vein were interrupted by a surging wake of spiritual essence. For a moment, Al''s dream self was pulled to observe another deathbed scene. Without knowing how, he recognized the old woman laying in the bed as White''s daughter.


    Surrounding the bed were Gan and Tait along with a plethora of her descendants, from children to even a couple of great grandchildren. Advanced as she was in age, the only person that she recognized in the room was Gan himself. In her final moments, her rheumy eyes seemed to lock onto Al''s presence.


    Smiling as a few tears slipped down withered cheeks, she said. "Oh look! Daddy came to fetch me, Father. I''m going to go now, okay?"


    Seconds later, as the old woman breathed her last rattling breath, Gan turned towards the point Al was looking from as well. He appeared ready to do something drastic to himself to follow but Tait laid a restraining hand and said, "If you go that way, you''ll lose everything and might still not make it."


    Before the dream scene ended, Tait added with an emotion thickened voice, "Let''s lay Oleander to rest properly first. After that, there will be no unfinished business to hold us here any longer. We will travel our own road to meet Dad again."


    A ripple ran through Al''s consciousness somewhat akin to a cold chill as Oleander''s soul was drawn through a connection with the ''colorless'' Al hadn''t known existed. As she passed ''through'' him, more specifically the mass of ''color'' attached to his soul, she pulled almost all of the white mass with her and a part of the colorless as well. The portion of colorless mass her soul had taken, formed an avatar to house her spirit as the white filled it in.


    In the moments that followed, many things happened Al couldn''t understand. But once the things ordered themselves into cohesiveness, a young woman clad in a radiant white nimbus stood on the plane. She was disoriented and confused until she felt the will of the plane reach out to her and ''explain''.


    Oleander looked at the plane around her and said, "I see. The path that was robbed from us is to be restored this way. As it was in the beginning, we have been given a garden to tend. In doing so, we will grow stronger and help Daddy as well."


    A slit that was half dark bale fire and half radiant light opened, revealing Noxflora. "Nor will you be alone, sister. I am but a call away and, with time, other siblings may join us."


    Noxflora gazed towards Al''s point of view. "You are fragmented and are not yet strong enough to observe the use of laws. I will place a veil to protect you from seeing things that may harm you. It will also protect those of us here from the eyes of outsiders."


    Confused, Oleander said, "If he is not yet strong enough to observe laws, would our labor not be in vain?"


    Half wicked laugh and half warm, Noxflora said, "Setting aside that it benefits ourselves, the will of this plane is capable of observing for him. It was designed to be so by his own spiritual father...


    "Fragment who watches us, Zeke is not that man. He is merely that which remains of him, fashioned in his image. That man ceased to be when he closed the loop on his own existence.


    "Do not hold Zeke accountable for the actions of ''that one''. Zeke is no more nor less that the true and dutiful friend you know. For what small part he played in the tragedies of Jacob, Zoe, and a few others, he has been forgiven. Please let him know, when and if you meet again. That is not a burden he should have to bear, when those greatest affected do not wish him to."


    Trying to communicate in return, Al said, "Can you hear me?"


    Noxflora tilted her head. "I cannot fully understand. You desire to ask me a question?"


    Trying a different tactic, Al cobbled together a series of pictures and tried sending it that way.


    Noxflora nodded. "You have seen Zoe''s son in your dream memories. She will be pleased that he is coming into his own power... As for the rest, I know not the fate of the others who were at the muddy place.


    "While the connection is still strong, I will inquire the Weird Sisters and Granny Georgia to see what they may divine for you. I do not know if it is wise to aid a fragment or not but I will send some trifles to ease your sufferings as well... Until we meet again, father..."


    ***


    Al came to feeling like his whole being had become loose and unstable. In the next moment he was pelted by mud and stone before a weight landed on him painfully, shortly joined by a second one.


    A man''s voice said, "I saved the cone!"


    The sound of slurping and crunching sounds was interrupted by a second man''s voice. "Screw it. Three second rule."


    Slurping and crunching resumed close to his other ear.


    "You picked that up out of mud and ate it, Roy!?" said the first man.


    After removing his own weight off the stack, the equipment specialist said, "It''s healing mud. Besides, this is the best damn ice cream I''ve ever had."


    A woman''s voice came from nearby. "Adam, was it? Would you mind getting off Al. He''s the mature, responsible part of Orison I was talking about... It''s going to take him a little to recover from what just happened.


    "Remember what you promised me for saving you from the ''space between''. Adam, I''ll leave you to explain. Roy, keep this package in your badge until Al''s recovered his equilibrium and then give it to him. I''d stay and explain myself but I need to stop Gan and his son from smacking into the protection around this reality and ending tragically."


    As Adam removed his weight slowly and a little too handsy for Al''s liking, he said in shock, "Gan had kids, like with a woman and everything!? Aaaand she''s gone."


    Roy said with urgency, "The crystal cores and the mud itself is quickly losing potency. We need to gather it up before this thirsty, essence deprived air ruins it."


    Such a statement even galvanized the still disoriented Al to swing his ring around to collect what he could vaguely feel was special material. It was fairly easy to gather the lion''s share of it too, since he was ground zero for it''s arrival.


    From nearby, Al heard Macy say, "These friends of yours from a crazy suit club?-You need to stay right where you are, sir or whatever the hell you are-. Are you going to keep crawling around on the ground scooping up mud and rocks like fruitcake? Put some damn clothes on!"


    Embarrassed but still somewhat unable to see well, Al reactivated the suit and said, "I don''t know the whole story yet, Macy, but I do sort of know these people. It''s fine... You two, explanations can wait. Help her clean up the bodies before one of our neighbors has the police out here, inquiring about the gunshots... How''s Myra and Hunter?"


    After briefly giving the men directions like it was commonplace to be covering up a crime scene with strangers, she said, "Myra stirred long enough to take a few drinks of water before she crawled back to her room, refusing to listen to me... I don''t think she''s right in the head yet. Hunter''s got a concussion but he''s not fighting me about not going to sleep."


    "Take some of this mud and put it on them. I know that sounds crazy but it''s special. It''ll help heal them. I''d do it myself but I can''t see that well for some reason," Al said.

 205 The Fool 10

    The more he moved around the stronger he felt. Al also noted that he didn''t quite feel the same either. The white and colorless nimbus about himself was gone. He was taller, sturdier, slimmer in some areas while more substantial in others.


    Anxious to inspect himself, a habit he''d developed for quite some time, he was more anxious about his niece and Hunter. After spending some time rubbing a generous amount of mud he''d collected on them, earning a weakly muttered protest from Myra and a curious but tolerant one from the teenage boy, he quickly made his way to the basement.


    A five minute wash-up in the shower later and he was looking himself over in the large bathroom mirror. What he saw filled him horror touched awe and admiration. He felt somewhat like a stranger in his own body and could only find a few recognizable features.


    For the time being, the heterochromia had blended enough to create the Caribbean blue that Orison''s eyes usually held with the help of a touch of Spirit Sight''s glow. An artfully messy thatch of wavy honey blond hair framed a youthful, masculine face that was somewhere between the oval of Al''s face and the delicate, sharp angle of Orison''s mixed with a stronger definition of jaw than either had possessed. As his eyes roamed over the rugged fighter''s build he hadn''t earned, he realized he was missing one prevalent feature he expected to see and two that were just barely shy of absurd.


    Looking at his side profile, Al muttered, "Where''s all the rest of my, uh, hair!?W-well, at least I won''t have to rush out for new pants. That back there will hold them up just fine but what do I do about underwear?"


    A voice coming from the door, had the stunned man turning to see Adam admiring with the expression of a sculptor pleased with his work. "A slim waist and heavy equipment begs 100% cotton boxer briefs or a jock if you''re bold. You''re welcome, by the way."


    Looking back at Adam in irritation, Al said, "What''s that ''you''re welcome'' even mean?"


    "According to Zoe, some ''holder of the green''s special traits rubbed off on you. If you don''t know what that means then I''m just as clueless as you but there''s the reason I was tossed out at you first. If it had been Roy, I have a feeling you''d be very sad and angry right now," Adam said in amusement.


    That action went from attempting to be ''cool and uncaring'' about being admired by another guy to being embarrassed and frantically dressing when he realized that Hunter had walked in, froze like a deer in headlights.


    Unlike Adam, Hunter had turned around immediately after his brain caught up with his eyes and stammered out, "Nana sent me down to t-tell you that Dad got into a car accident trying to get here. Him and Uncle Devon are busted up but it not super serious."


    As soon as the boy was done, he rushed back upstairs like he was afraid his book collection was on fire. The ex-Rowdy captain chuckled but was tactful enough to bite back whatever he was about to say.


    Since the show was over, Adam said, "Roy''s taking up the main bathroom. Do you mind if I take a quick shower? What benefit the mud had is gone and now I just feel grimy."


    Striding towards the stairs, Al said, "Sure. Help yourself."


    "I do have important things to tell you. I could give you a debriefing while I debrief," Adam chuckled at his own lame joke as he started stripping off his muddy uniform.


    At the foot of the stairs, Al shot back, "I''m not in that big of a hurry... Look, feel free to be you. But just so we''re clear, mine is not among the many heads I have no doubt you posses the ability to turn."


    In wry humor, Adam said, "As devastated as I am to hear that, I have a practical reason. I need you to check where it''s hard for me to see if I have crystallization. You do know how dangerous overexposure to aqua vitae is?"


    Trying one last gambit to wiggle out of it, Al said, "I''m sure you''d be able to feel if you had stony lumps somewhere. Besides, you''re a Roger."


    Adam sighed. "Whatever. I''ll have Roy look later. Apparently, you''re not the part with Orison''s professionalism or medical skill."


    Al paused on the stairs and ran Adam''s request through the knowledge he inherited from White. It was likely just an unnecessary precaution but the ex-Rowdy was the captain in charge of the Plague Barrens and even a half percent chance meant that two people could die. ''Likely unnecessary'' wasn''t in THAT Rowdies station''s dictionary.


    With a hesitant step and and a belly full of bitterness, Al gave the man a professional examination while Adam cleaned himself and reported. "Of the people from the mud flats, there were no fatal casualties of the people that Orison personally knew. Many were critically injured by the Third Triumvir''s previous adjunct who escaped by the cabin that you produced but... it was the mud flats. Anything shy of fatal wasn''t going to stay that way.


    "It was a heavy handed move but Noxflora ensured that all her siblings were brought safely to their place of inheritance. There was some sort of issue with ''green'' but don''t worry about your grass deer friend, he will grow under the supervision of Gan... Sounds like a lot of code word nonsense to me but I assume you underssstaaand... the reason."


    In a dangerously thick voice, Adam said, "Picking and scratching at sensitive places is foul play."


    Embarrassed, annoyed and about ready to have Roy handle the rest, questionable professionalism or not, Al replied. "There was a fleck. If it couldn''t be scratched off, especially if there was evidence of tunneling, is THAT where you want potential cancer to spread from?"


    Suddenly a little embarrassed himself, Adam responded, "Fair point. My apologies and carry on... Where was I?"


    Mercifully finished with his inspection, Al left the bathroom and grabbed another shirt to change into while Adam continued. "When Noxflora was ready to send a few different people to you, Granny Georgia said that only Zoe would be able to reach you without harm. Zora seconded that she had seen Zoe saving many of your lost friends and that her love would sleep until she returned to his bosom... or some such poetic nonsense.


    "The Weird Sisters couldn''t help. They were blocked from seeing by a Great Horned One. There''s probably a few details I can''t quite recall well. Most of what Zoe told me to tell you wasn''t ordered enough to really stick in the mind well. I''m pretty sure that Zoe might have been the best girl for the job because she can save people lost out there in the ''in between'' but she has the short term memory retention of a butterfly."


    Done talking, Adam checked his storage device for a spare change of clothes to see that he had coated everything inside in mud. He laughed it off and declared it was worth it. Al hit the man''s original suit with a Presto and both of them were a little happier once Adam was fully dressed again.


    About that time, Myra came down the stairs after knocking with burning ears and occasional glances back upstairs. "Um, Roy said to bring this uniform ornament thing to you."


    Frowning, Al said, "Did he do something to you?"


    Shyly, Myra said, "Not really. He asked me to check him for crystals and I agreed but I didn''t think... Macy took over. He... accidentally dumped the mud in it on Macy while they were in the bathroom, I guess. She kind of gasped for a moment but then she started laughing. So, I guess it was okay but that''s when Roy handed me the patch through the door and said that it might take them some time."


    Al frowned but didn''t say anything. If it hadn''t been for Roy, all the healing mud and core crystals might have dissipated to worthless on the driveway. Lost in those thoughts, he decided to herd Adam and his niece back upstairs and assess everything. As they were walking up, he paused for a moment because he felt a rush of the colorless come back to him before being sucked away again.


    Above him, Al saw the two instinctively dodge to the side as a view of various stuff was revealed falling towards him. Out of an instinct he hadn''t been aware he possessed, he felt himself coated in cool darkness for a moment before that darkness started pulling the edges of him in, making him instinctively withdraw it again. Instantly re-emptied of essence so harshly he felt sick, he passed out a second time.


    ***


    As he came to, he was staring into the smiling face of someone White had thought of once or twice but never thought to see again. Cray handed him a stone bowl with some not very appetizing contents. Looking around, he saw the mouth of a moderately sized cave overlooking a dirty gray sky. Behind him, towards the back of the cave, huddled under a ratty looking blanket, were Hunter and a slightly older grim-faced boy with ashy black hair and matching cat ears.


    Judging by the puffy closed eyes and tear tracks down his face, Hunter had cried himself to exhaustion. Caught staring, grayish-green cat eyes stared back from a dirty but pale face, radiating defensive wariness. There wasn''t much else to observe, other than the minimal rags Cray was wearing.


    "You''re probably right confused. You kind of missed out on a lot during your nap. In a way, you''re lucky. It wasn''t happy times, Orison," the country boy said, not looking much older than he''d appeared the last time the young mage had saw him.


    He was about to contradict that he was ''Al'' but that was only a third true. All things considered, he was far more curious about what was going on anyway.


    "Care to fill me in?" he said, noting the youth in his voice and vaguely aware that he felt a bit lighter than he had before he passed out on the stairs.


    The young mage checked himself over while Cray spoke. "You want the little details, you''ll need to ask Hunter. Poor kid''s done and beat himself clean up over things that can''t near be his fault. You want someone to poke a finger at, I''d say that Zoe lady would be the place to start but she''s little more than a girl in some way I''d have a hard time explaining."


    Noting the lack of ring and the inability to activate the suit, Orison added, "She hasn''t had a lot of time to rack up life experience beyond mimicry. Without that, common sense is a pipe dream... Sorry, continue."


    Country was about to launch into the next bit when the cat boy said in a raspy voice, "If you don''t want that bowl of brown and green, I''ll take it."


    It was at that moment that Orison managed to vaguely feel the presence of a moderate sized space inside himself that had a couple of familiar items in it.


    Feeling a little angst over the boy''s constant mean mugging, he handed it over with a saintly smile on his face. "It''s alright, I''m not that hungry right now. I hope it helps you keep your strength up."


    Seeing both Cray and the boy look at him a little speechlessly, he realized that their situation must be fairly dire. The slightly watery eyed look the boy gave him before taking the bowl with a slightly trembling hand made him instantly feel crappy.


    Before the boy took a bite of the barely edible cave wall scrapings, he pulled out the slightly dirty Crimson Moon uniform patch that Myra had handed him before everything went sideways and rummaged in it for a few ration bars. "While you''re at it, might as well try to get some of this down too. Let Hunter sleep for a little while longer, since it looks like he needs it... Cray, you want in on this or are you full of lichen and vine for the moment?"


    "Do bears do their business in the woods?... What''s this jerky coated in? Oh, never mind. It''s a ration bar right? Don''t be playing a cruel joke on me and say it''s soap," the country boy said as he took a bite, followed by a few more ravenous ones.


    Orison said, slightly alarmed, "Chew that up really well and wash it down with some water. Yeah, here''s a bottle... You too, uh..."


    Between a mouthful of ration bar, the cat boy said, "Cole... for the hair, I guess. Sek gutter rats don''t really care much what people call them."


    Startled, Orison said, "Sek!? You''re from Osomo? How in the... Wait, are you the boy from the Wish Tower? I don''t remember you having, uh, ears."


    Reaching up and touching them as the flicked a little, Cole said, "Beggar chief cut them off. I was pretty much def. Cut my tail off and broke my foot too. Cripple kids get more coin. Cripple adults... not so much. He kicked me out as soon as I turned fifteen."


    Somewhat baffled, Orison said, "Why''d you leave the tower? Duran was trying to help you."


    Grim frown turned into a sadder look of helplessness. "I didn''t. The beggar chief of my group held legal guardianship over me. He tried to trade places when he saw where I was... Please... Please tell me he didn''t steal that from me too."


    The look on the cat boy''s face would have made Orison lie if the boy''s tormentor had but luckily he didn''t have to. "No and we would have killed him if he had, after knowing what happened... How did you end up here?"


    The boy looked at Hunter''s sleeping face and then back at Cray with the same helpless look, causing Country to speak up. "Like I was saying earlier. Hunter''s got the details but that Zoe lady brought most of us. There was a few more after whatever it was Hunter had done with that Genie and them cards... Nope. Don''t bother asking me about that. It would be all second, maybe third hand and that ain''t helpful.


    "What I can say is that it was pretty crowded up there in that house of yours. Then, we all just kind of got kicked out but, like WAY out. Zoe said she couldn''t delay the draw to her child any longer and didn''t have the strength to carry us all. Some silver key opened up a hole and the ones who couldn''t go through that, tried to go into the one that swallowed up all them other Redlander folks, the girl who said she was your niece and a couple others.


    "Funny thing. Any womenfolk or elves had no problem going with the key. The only ones who could go with Zoe was two vampers and a weird wolf that was whining all pitiful like after it got separated trying to follow one of the elves. After that, the rest of us started falling. That''s what it felt like any way.


    "On the way down, you coughed up a feather and a lady''s voice said that anyone who wanted to join her choir as an angel in training could pray to the feather. The catch was that they''d have to forget their old lives or some such. Whatever women folks was left didn''t seem to have no trouble with that but Hunter over there couldn''t let go.


    "I didn''t want to leave you to fall all by your lonesome. It didn''t seem right. After everything you did for me and then I went running off like that back to my girl... I feel like whatever happened to end my sorry hide, I deserved it. She didn''t want me no how after a little while. Don''t know why Cole stayed and fell with us."


    The cat boy sneered. "Who wants to be a useless angel? They never helped any of us."


    Seeing how the boy was looking at Hunter, Orison remembered how Gan used to look at him when the scout thought he was just a plucky kid with too many problems. It was the look of a person who''d lived a too hard life and found someone they wanted to save from as much of that as they were able. It hurt his heart seeing that same look on the face of a boy who still had some growing left to do. Someone who should still have a protector, not looking to fill the role himself.


    "I''d say THAT angel helped us out plenty. Don''t you have Corvinus'' skills and whatnot? He''s an angel now too... I guess. Sounds disrespectful like to him if nobody else," Cray said disgruntled.


    Cole turned thoughtful and then said, "You were friends. Yeah, sorry and all that." Face turning wicked, the boy added, "But what about YOUR angel in training? Corvinus asked that if what he had to let go of should be useful, he wanted me to have it but what did that Adam pervert request to give you in that whisper?"


    Cray snorted. "Nothing that would peel the paint off a brothel''s walls any faster than what went on in the Emerald Island Fort."


    Folding his hands together, the archer added, "Corvinus, I''m going to miss my favorite fishing buddy. Maybe a world without your girl was just too hard for you to stay in. I hope you get to see her again someday. And maybe when my time''s come a knocking again, we can find a fishing hole wherever you''re at.


    "Thank you kindly, lady angel. We sure appreciate the gentle landing... Thank you, destruction mage lady who gave Hunter a little helping hand on your way to paradise. I''m sorry I never took the time to learn you mage folks'' names...


    "And Adam, thank you for the useful stuff but you ain''t half as disgusting as Hefty nor half as perverted as Mellow. By reputation, no one who went knocking on Mercenary Chief Rune''s door on a cold winter''s night, didn''t come back for seconds or thirds. Either he''s a good cook or you got beat there too. Don''t think so highly of yourself... Amen."


    For a second, Orison could swear he heard Sammy laughing around coughs from choking on a drink.

 206 The Fool 11

    After a round of Mends and Prestos, the young mage frowned even as Cray and Cole looked increasingly happier. Whatever place they were in, it didn''t stop him from using magic but it felt like he was pushing his models through a spaghetti strainer once they left him. If it hadn''t been for the sudden and significant raise in reserves, he would have been exhausted to the point of collapse again.


    There was magic in the air as well but it was slightly unclean and mildly corrosive to the body. It wasn''t too big of an issue as long as he didn''t lean on it too much to refill. It did make him wonder and worry about the others. He could sense that Cray had no meaningful connection with the ambient flow of dirty magic but Hunter did and Cole did a little.


    "Cole, you and Hunter need to be careful about drawing the magic from the air. If you take it in, it can fill your body and magic channels with corrosion and toxins," Orison said.


    The cat boy looked at him oddly. "What makes you think I can use magic? Even if I could, everyone knows you don''t ''take it in''. Only beast kin with primal blood, the Dracanos or people with the dragon lancer job do that stuff."


    The young mage said, "Setting aside that this place doesn''t feel remotely like Osomo, invalidating your common knowledge, you have a connection with the magic of this place and all magic users draw ambient magic into themselves instinctual to refill their reserves."


    Cole exclaimed worriedly, "I''m drawing magic in!? Quick, teach me how to stop it! I don''t want to turn into a creature!"


    Now confused himself, Orison said, "Drawing magic won''t turn you into a creature. That was just a label slapped on things by the artifact that ran your world. Drawing the ambient magic here will do a little damage to your body and harmful things can build up inside of you but... I don''t get it. I saw with my own eyes, sort of, other magic users on Osomo pulling magic from the air."


    "That''s the problem with Chosen... Did you even watch one of the Children who could use a little magic, cast a spell, even once!?" Cole said.


    Thinking back, Orison realized he didn''t. If he''d have stuck around in the classroom Mylar had turned his office into, he very well could have. It dawned on him that the magic channels of everyone he''d seen there were a great deal weaker than his own but hadn''t thought much of it.


    It wasn''t informing about the need to watch for magic channel stress. It was only talking about how quickly the spark could receive a new ''command''. Trying to overcome that would make magic fail or possibly cause harm to the caster. It would certainly explain why younger elementalists had scars on their arms no matter how careful they tried to be. In the heat of battle, it was bound to happen that a mage would push to fire a spell even a fraction of a second faster.


    Cole and Cray watched silently while Orison tried out a few ideas. To keep from there being any repercussions from failed magic, he played around with the basic summon model he''d copied from Tait''s scroll before he''d used it to blow up Jaffin''s basement kitchen. Nearly an hour later, the ghostly blue astral projection of a demonic looking dog stood with them in the cave.


    As soon as he finished the model a strange tickling sensation settled onto his aura. The ambient magic around him shifted in his perception. Like light passing through a tinted prism, one part of the magic grew a little brighter while the rest grew dim. He tried to run healing but it failed in a way that suggested the laws that governed magic here didn''t recognize the model at all. Switching to Degree Shift, it was the same but when he tried Mend, it worked easily.


    Two parts of the magical ''spectrum'' in the ambient air was detectable to his magic channels but the rest was completely obscured. There were complicated laws at work but he wasn''t overly concerned about it. The world would help him hold and fill in conjured models and transmutations, his third and first most costly ''bang per buck'' magic. He would just have to slog the old fashioned way with dramatically increased cost for the rest.


    "There are some similarities with Osomo magic here but it feels far less like a ''program coding'' from an artifact and far more like an organic rule or reality. It could very well be a principle that was used in Osomo''s creation. I always thought that it was a control mechanism but maybe the reason your world had magic work the way it did was to prepare people for wherever they''d be up here," Orison said, more talking at Cole rather than with him.


    The feline teen looked back confused and a little angry for being confused. The young mage inwardly chuckled that nearly everything probably caused disgruntlement in one form or another with the boy. Naturally prickly disposition barely covered it. Trying to think generously, Orison reasoned that if he had endured being crippled for easier coin earning only to be thrown out when he no longer was cute and pitiful but just plain pitiful, he''d be rather angry at the whole world too.


    Pushing his ruminations on Cole to the back of his mind, the young mage rummaged through the Blood Moon badge for other useful things. Dumping it all out, he hit the contents and the inside space with a Presto before putting it all back in except what was immediately useful. After some careful consideration, he handed Roy''s spare holstered caster gun to Cray and the survival knife over to Cole while keeping the machete for himself.


    "Since there''s ambient magic, the gun should fill on its own but if you shoot faster than that, you''ll be losing a couple hours of your lifespan a round," Orison said, immediately feeling foolish as Cray broke it down to do a maintenance check.


    Cray nodded at him and went back to his inspection while Cole kept glancing between the machete and his survival knife. "Not to sound like a snooty beggar but why do I have a knife while you have a jungle saber?"


    The archer cut in, looking up from the lightning quick reassemble of the caster gun with a smirk. "Said the boy to the man."


    As Cole''s frowning face turned into a scowl, Orison held back an inappropriate chuckle and said, "Because you won''t be engaging threats unless it''s more than Cray and myself can handle. Your main job is to keep yourself and Hunter safe."


    Focusing his glare on Cray, the feline teen said, "Suit yourself... Said the warrior to the mage who wants to tank."


    Orison sighed. "You have a point. Call it pride or uneasy conscience but I couldn''t sleep well if I thought I was exposing someone over half my age to danger in order to keep myself a little safer. Duran was a special case but even that bothered me more than I can say."


    Turning to Cray, he added, "I don''t know how to say this without it sounding a little weird but did I turn somewhat into a floating ball of light at some point. And if I did, who touched me first?"


    The archer shrugged but Cole said, "You were fuzzy around the edges but getting less and less so when Adam reached for you like he dropped his only meat pie for the month."


    Orison said, "I see. So, that''s why I''m a little shorter, younger and lighter built but everything else is about the same."


    Cray chimed in. "From what I saw, you still look like a gladiator. You just went from pit to pet. Now, whether folks thought it was the Senator or his wife that was keeping you... Guess that would depend on which side they saw first."


    Over the subject, the young mage prompted, "Squeeze off a round on the caster and let me see how long it takes the ambient to refill it."


    Seeing the archer pointing out of the cave mouth situated on a cliff side, Cole said, "Wait! How loud is it? What if it brings those skeletons back?"


    Cray said, "They stopped coming at day break. We''re not quite past midday and if they had a master, I''m right sure that our troubles would have doubled before now."


    The feline teen didn''t look so certain but he remained silent as Cray leveled the barrel at the distant sky and let a shot rip. Although not as loud as regular gunfire, it didn''t sound much different. Hunter, who was understandably sensitive to the sound, woke up howling in mindless terror.


    Feeling terrible about not thinking of how such an event might affect the kid, the young mage apologized as he still continued observing the ambient fill rate. "A bit longer than three seconds. I''m so sorry, Hunter. We could have at least covered your ears or something. If-"


    The boy dryly croaked, "It''s all my fault. I didn''t know but I thought I did and I could have done it so differently."


    His words became increasingly harder to understand as he worked himself into a stupor. While Hunter calmed back down, Orison asked Cray, "How long have we been here?"


    "A mite past half a day, I reckon," the archer replied.


    The young mage grew thoughtful. "Has the top of this cliff been scouted yet?"


    Cray replied, "I took a gander earlier and damn near fell to my watery death. It''s chalky. All I can say for sure is that there were skeletons falling from above trying to get to us and down below there''s not so calm water. Left and right don''t look much different than where we are for a good half mile."


    Trying to remain calm, Orison said, "How did we end up in a strangely spherical cave on a crumbly cliff?"


    Cray scratched his head. "Truth is, we was IN the cliff. A part fell off. I think we was further in but the bubble we was floating down in tried to make its way out into open air before it wore off."


    Sighing, the young mage said, "Count our blessings, I guess. If there are undead above us, we wouldn''t have had a breather to figure some things out if we popped up there or in the water under us. I don''t fancy our survival chances if we had to hit the ground LITERALLY running, swimming either for that matter. If the temperature''s anything to go off of, that water''s probably chilly."


    Turning back to Hunter, he said, "Hey, bud. It is what it is. Give me the best breakdown you can and we''ll figure it out."


    Between a few more emotional moments that Cole helped support him through, Hunter''s revelation was pretty shocking to all of them. Having said some rather unintentionally cute things that pulled on Zoe''s mommy heartstrings, she gave him a present when she swung by to drop off a second round of ''space between places'' drop offs. She just thought it was an amphora ''wine jug'' used by ''real vampires'' that she thought the kid would get a kick out of owning.


    It turned out to be the Jinn Orison had accidentally helped to escape the Wish Tower. Hunter didn''t exactly know how she had been corked again but he remembered her mentioning an Abyss Lord named Rozcherek hatefully. Being the nice kid that he is, after asking excitedly about the three wishes, he dedicated the last one to setting her free in exchange for nothing more than to be friends. The innocent sincerity of that gesture managed to touch the fiery haired woman enough that she didn''t twist his other two wishes to lethal slag as she was originally inclined to do.


    It turned out that Hunter wasn''t that big of a gullible kid anyway. He intentionally chose a wish that was loaded with its own built in death traps. His first wish was for a full ''Deck of Many Wonders'' that Orison had to keep Hunter from explaining to death because he probably knew the item in question better than the kid did, Al being a veteran tabletop gamer.


    For the kid''s second and final wish, since he already dedicated the third to freeing the Jinn, was that his first of five draws from the deck would be ''The Moon or its equivalent'' at full effect. The Jinn, who was ready to take off, stopped when she realized that the kid had pretty much earned himself four more wishes. It was something she had always been told was impossible because the laws of reality didn''t allow for such a thing as a wish for more wishes of any kind.


    He didn''t do anything overly crazy with the other wishes, spooked by the Jinn''s surprise at his maneuvering. He dedicated the first card granted wish to having each of his draws affect those who had ''received Al''s goodwill'', figuring that it would help not only just him but everyone present and be able to reach his dad and uncle in the hospital. Two he used to ''call draws'' and the final wish was to make his remaining draws, positive ones.


    There where already a few small problems but there were two larger ones in effect that became clear later. The first was that the deck he had wasn''t exactly like the deck from the game. The second was that he didn''t declare ''or its equivalent'' like he had with The Moon card which had been the Snow Berry and its granted ''wishes'' only affected the deck itself.


    Hunter''s second draw and first called draw, the deck''s closest resembling card to The Page, was supposed to call forth a relatively low level but seasoned warrior to be a loyal protector. What it actually did was call to one''s side, a debtor raised from the dead to work it off in service or some such. That had an interesting and not completely beneficial effect. It also illustrated that Hunter had miscalculated things.


    The third draw was The Sun and he was happy about it''s affect of granted joy and prosperity but was unsure of what the ''joy'' thing was actually supposed to do. That was the card that had caused Al to be pelted by things on the stairs because all the things that appeared wasn''t just his but his niece''s and Adam''s as well. With the accumulated horde upstairs, the first floor of the house had turned into a dragon''s nest of loot.


    While everyone was scrambling to claim what they believed to be theirs and possibly not, he drew the fourth card and the second called one. The Star raised some character stats in the game but Hunter''s deck version granted wisdom through ''great loss''. Everything disappeared and the house full of people were floating in the void, kept alive by Zoe. It was at that moment, as many started becoming ghostly, everyone became aware that the only people who were actually ''alive'' were the summoned debtors.


    Understandably, a lot of people were freaking out. As icing on the cake, everyone who was dead became aware of their last moments. No doubt a part of the ''granted wisdom'' effect of the card.


    The last part was hard for the boy to get through because not only did he find out he was dead and how but Deshawn, recently returned to life after being summoned to Myra''s side, kept trying to clutch his ghostly form while screaming his name over and over. Cole took over and explained the last card, The Three Fates. Its effects were hard to describe but its what sent the key, ring and ''black marble'' to the ''other remaining Orison'' while sending all the people from Earth back home along with their bound debtors.


    For reason''s that weren''t completely clear but vaguely understandable, ''Al'' and Hunter were excluded from that. They weren''t, however, excluded from being brought back from the dead and sent elsewhere. What still remained a mystery was how Sammy and the key conduit played their parts in it all.


    Orison sat down bonelessly. "So, we were all dead? Then what was that place and how were we-"


    Cray cut in. "Bardo, Spirit Plains... whatever you want to call it, it''s a place between the living and the dead. Seemed Zoe knew that all along but didn''t really see how it mattered. According to her, most souls just roam around until they lose everything. Some souls, especially strong ones or a whole mess from the same place, they form afterlife places that don''t rightly belong to nobody."


    In a burst of grim realization, Orison said, "I thought I was the collector for all the dying Orison parts but I was wrong. Al was just the first to be dead because he didn''t get to live again like the other parts. Of course I''d be in a place like that. There''s no reincarnation until you''re completely dead and there''s still a part alive out there."


    Cray chuckled. "Well, now there''s two. How about that?"


    The young mage slipped his hands over his face. "There''s too many variables. I don''t know if we''re still under the affects of ''Gates of Reincarnation'' or not. If I or the one I call Red Orison, die before merging now, there''s a chance what the other one has will be lost or follow them. We''ve become a fractured soul! If I''m right, our greater space and its connected plane will be lost to us forever if we don''t merge."

 207 The Fool 12

    "As far as things being your fault, how so? You didn''t give yourself things too tempting to not use. Hell, I probably would have tried to do something clever with it myself only to find out later that I''d screwed things up far worse than the generally positive outcome you managed to achieve.


    "Think about it. My niece, your family, a lot of people that were dead are now alive because of what you did. You shouldn''t feel bad about that. You should feel proud.


    "It sucks you got separated from them but you''re alive and, hey, you''ve got magic talent! We''re going to go on an adventure! Not going to lie. It''s not going to be fun that often and it''ll be scary sometimes but... magic!"


    Hunter cried out, "I tried! All that happened was I felt sick."


    It took a little over an hour of explaining and drawing out models in the chalky dirt but the young mage coaxed the boy through his first Degree Shift and Fire Shot. None of the other beginning spells worked for the boy. After finding out that Hunter''s concepts were massively different, Orison managed to find that there was something about the protective application of kinetics that seemed to resonate.


    "Oh, I get it! I''m an evocation and abjuration dual specialist. I''m pretty much a five star battle mage! What are you? I guess the same since you could teach me, or maybe a generalist?" Hunter said, cracking his first smile and on the road to emotional recovery.


    The young mage said, "This world tries to limit me to conjuration and alter, er, transmutation but I have a way to slip under its rules. Costs out the wazoo to cast that way and you''re not strong enough magically to even squeeze out one novice with the way I do it. I''ll keep an eye on your growth. It''s weird how you forget a model after you cast it though."


    Hunter''s brows furrowed. "Not really. You''re a sorcerer and I''m a wizard, right?"


    "What kind of-" Orison was about to contradict but then realized that there was a benefit from having to prepare magics, even if it meant having to make a new spellbook if he lost one.


    It might be a pain but Hunter''s internalized concepts would remain as pure as driven snow. He would continue to improve and grow theory. In turn, the continuous repeated practice would help him translate things into greater concepts and possibly even laws much easier than the way Orison grew. The young mage didn''t want to mess with that.


    A little tired but pleased, Orison handed the items over and said, "One latex water proofed, leather bound grimoire with laminated silk pages for you. If the blood of your mentor as ink doesn''t seal the deal on a genuine spellbook, I don''t know what does... When your prepared slots run out, that battle wand will serve as a conduit for a couple kinetic bolts before you run the risk of breaking it.


    "The ring will lay down a circle your abjuration can use as a focus for some pure will work protection as well. It''ll take some time and experimentation to make it more than a little resistance to battling intent and aura effects but that''s the heart of a wizard anyway. I''ll help as much as I can but we''re kind of on diverging paths."


    Hunter nodded in deep thought. "I thought you were a sorcerer but you''re actually a warlock. It was faint but I could feel other magics coming from you. Who''s your patron?"


    At first Orison didn''t understand what the kid was getting at but he realized that Hunter was ''getting into character''. It might not be too healthy if the kid went too deep but if he was just trying to distract himself to get over the hump, Orison would indulge.


    With a look of exaggerated surprise, the young mage said, "How astute, young wizard. My patron is The Lady of the Green. Through the power of her most potent source, I may exercise my craft with fewer restraints but forever am bound in body and spirit."


    Cray and Cole shared complex looks. Orison didn''t have the sharp intuition that Red no doubt enjoyed but he could tell there was more to their reaction than just some awkward feelings over his and Hunter''s act.


    Internally concerned, Orison turned to them and said, "Spit it. What was that look about?"


    Cray opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but ended up saying nothing as Cole gave the man a withering glare and took lead, "It''s not pleasant. It''s not really something anyone would want to say either. Blame it on that key mostly but you can hold some of that for the angel voice that came from that feather too."


    The archer said defensively, "Now don''t you be blaming her for just speaking what we know''s probably more true than any of us would like to admit. I seen what... I''d appreciate it if you didn''t go around blaspheming what support we have on the other side."


    Arcing an eyebrow, Orison folded his arms pretending to just be curious and annoyed over the dithering rather than focus on how his guts were twisting over whatever nasty revelation was about to come to light.


    Bitter enough of a soul not to have as much trouble being the bearer of bad news, Cole continued. "Like Cray said before. The key didn''t seem to have any trouble letting women and elves through. I''d like to pop the smug guy on the other side in the chops for spitting that ''the more the merrier'' line.


    "Anyway, not to make a big deal out of it but there were only four women and a girl left after that. Once the angel popped up with her offer, Celeste and her mom took it right away. That''s when the angel told us that we were a long way from other people. She gave us the general idea of where to head but we''re in mid Fall.


    "We go north, there''s only a couple of weeks to find food and shelter before we hole up for three months. We go due east from here, it''s undead, then monsters and finally a high elevation desert. South, it''s desert and bigger monsters. Beyond that, she didn''t say. It''s pretty obvious what''s west of us anyway.


    "Whichever way we go, it''s going to be a long time or a lot of danger before we find and cross a mountain pass to where people are. She suggested the north. The wait''s longer but there''s less danger outside of cold and hunger. There''s a forest to scavenge too, if we hurry."


    Orison chewed on that and then said, "Okay. What happened to the two unaccounted for women. I''ve already gotten that one of the last three was a mage that gave up some stuff for Hunter."


    With challenge in his eyes, the feline teen looked at Cray.


    After a little hesitation, the archer said, "The one named Drew said she was sorry but she didn''t think she could do it. The second woman was to her what we are to you fellas, I guess. Anyway, seeing as she was the only gal left, the mage lost her nerve. I mean, I get it. Her companion was a fella too.


    "People get hungry and thirsty for a whole lot more than vittles and water. If it was just a jump and skip, I think Drew and her buddy would have stayed. And then, maybe the mage would have stayed too. But wintering in who knows what state or slogging through endless unknown danger, I don''t blame them for that all by its lonesome. Much less being the only lady around a mess of men and boys they don''t really know."


    Cole said, "What he''s tip toeing around is how the angel pointed it out like some dire warning. I think the Drew lady would have took too long to decide if the angel hadn''t. It''s not like I care whether they stayed or went but your little feathered friend practically accused us of being... those kind of people."


    Looking a little sad, Orison said, "The two of you shouldn''t be forced to face this kind of situation, much less some therapist. Sammy did what was best. We don''t have to like it but to some degree we have the ability to defend ourselves. Drew would have had a hard time. I have a feeling she was assaulted by a man before anyway. She would have worn herself out fast.


    "Enough of this anyway. Hunter, catch a little more nap time before it gets late evening. If skeletons are coming, it''ll be a teamwork crash course... You take the first watch, Cole.


    "Cray, as soon as Hunter''s back up, catch a nap yourself. It''s all four of us til we get some practice dummies logged. But after that, it''s you and me til day break. We''ll head out four hours after dawn."


    Orison set up the tent, laid out the mat and two sleeping bags inside Roy''s badge. He felt fortunate that wherever the equipment specialist had last been, it required camping.


    When they were situated inside, Hunter asked, "Al, do you think we''ll be able to see our family again?... Oh, should I call you Orison too?"


    The young mage chuckled and said, "I''ll answer to either... I don''t honestly know but we can give the mid dimensions hell trying to find out. Let''s try to have fun doing it while we''re at it. Sound like a plan?"


    With a weak smile, Hunter said, "Better than no plan at all but I think it''ll improve with time. You''ve got me here to help you sand the corners."


    With exaggerated shock, Orison replied, "Was that a hint of confidence I just heard?"


    "Warlocks and Sorcerers might be good faces for a team but wizards are the plan makers," Hunter said smugly before closing his eyes.


    The young mage chuckled and said, "Let''s start you out as plan suggester and go from there."


    He briefly stirred from his rest when Cray took Hunter''s place in the second sleeping bag and heard the boy complaining about wizards needing full, uninterrupted rests to prepare spells. He muttered something barely coherent about ''second edition'' tables that had Hunter looking thoughtful before drifting back to sleep. Eventually, the young mage woke up refreshed a lot faster than he thought it would take. So, he let Cole have a nap as well.


    Seeing Orison join him, Hunter pounded out some minor details about his new spellbook and magic functionality. In his own way, the boy was the best ''student'' Orison had ever tried to teach. It was a bit of a shame in the young mage''s mind that Hunter built his beginning structure around an RPG mechanic but Orison had to admit it was a good one to use.


    Inevitably, it was close to sunset. With everyone awake, the young mage handed out another ration bar and they waited. Two hours after sunset and no signs of skeletons, he was about to give up and it donned on him. They were being too quiet.


    The first night, by all accounts, there had been a part of the cliff sheering off into the sea below them. That would have drawn attention for quite a ways. For a moment, Orison considered making a ruckus but decided that a little teamwork training wasn''t worth possible unknowns being drawn as well. Instead, he had everyone exercise enough to be able to rest some more and took first watch.


    It was hard to tell time without watches under an unfamiliar sky with cloud cover but, in what felt like a little past the midway point of the night, he thought he heard scraping noises over the surf crashing. By the time he had processed what he was hearing, bleached bones had come into view just for a split second before a rock whizzed past him to hit them. The fragile skeleton was dislodged from the top lip of the cave and into the waiting waves below.


    Cole approached the young mage and said in a low voice, "No need to wake them just yet. The best we could figure out, they have some kind of way to sense life if they''re close enough and they stagger in so inf-"


    As the feline teen was talking, six more popped over the cave lip to meet a discharge of Presto aimed at the lip itself. A small sheet of crumbly dirt and pebbles pulling itself loose allowed all six to slide off to their watery doom. Giving Orison a thumbs up, Cole went to wake the other two quickly and quietly.


    About thirty seconds later, while everyone got themselves ready, the front third of their cave broke off. In the split second view they had, several more skeletons combined weight had managed to overload what the fragile lip could hold and went with them. Aside from two that had climbed in from a side angle to be met by a spectral hound created by Orison, it returned to quite again.


    Cray said, "Why did you have that thing you whipped up, head but them off instead of drag them in. They had weapons."


    The young mage replied, "It''s just a thought. But if this attack was coordinated, I didn''t want the leader who might be spying from above to see that. The actions are more indicative of a wild animal that might be trapped down here instead of people. If these things are forced to hide during the day, it''s not to late to go looting then."


    Hunter chimed in, "If it was a necromancer, they might be able to sense life or magic anyway."


    The young mage shrugged. "If more come in an even more coordinated manner, they''ll have weapons too. They''ll probably be better ones as well."


    Dim light reflected off of Cole''s eyes eerily. "Those rust sticks I saw where little better than trash anyway. They could hurt the holder. Scratches from a rusty weapon can kill you in a far more painful way later. I learned the hard way."


    Hunter said sullenly, "I have my tetanus shot."


    Orison added, "I don''t know if we can take anything we got from ''reincarnation land'' as valid. Best not to take unnecessary risks."


    Time passed without reprisal. Without the stimulus, Hunter started getting Shivery and sluggish. Using the pocked part of back cave wall as a bench, like they had when Orison first woke up, Cole wrapped the ratty blanket around them and let the boy doze off.


    Seeing that scene, the young mage turned to Cray and said, "If it was much colder in here, we''d have problems."


    "You want the jacket back?" the archer asked.


    The young mage shook his head. "A little bit of cold isn''t going to affect my ability to cast that much but even a slight shake could screw up your aim... I never realized I took that suit so much for granted when I had it."


    Whatever Cray was going to say back was cut off by a familiar twang. Dangling upside down, three skeleton archers shot into the cave before being quickly pulled up. The first opened a gouge on Cray''s face while the other two flew wide of Orison. He was happy their aim was so bad until he realized he hadn''t been the target.


    Taking a quick glance behind him, the young mage noticed that Cole had reflexively shifted low to the cave floor. Dragging Hunter with him, the feline teen had used his own body as a shield and had an arrow sticking out of his arm. As he rushed back to provide help, Orison cast the low grade summoning spell to give Cray support.


    From bored to life threateningly dangerous, the next couple of minutes was an experience in nerve wracking patience as Cray would shoot when the skeletons popped in and change position. Throwing out the tent as cover, Orison worked on getting the arrow out and healing Cole''s arms while trying to keep Hunter from recklessly exposing himself to arrow fire.


    The tent wasn''t much of a cover but it gave just enough difficulty to the archers that the arrows didn''t stay on course. There were two missed calls and a shallow shoulder stick in Orison''s own body before the last of eight archers had been dispatched. No sooner did the young mage have Cole and himself up and running again, the ones who had been lowering the skeleton archers down dropped in to say hello.


    Skeleton soldiers in rotting leather armor tried to gang up on Cray when Cole came out to join the fight. Seeing their coordination, it became clear who ''took care of business'' the previous evening. With an inward sigh, Orison handed over the machete and took the dagger after the ''wave'' had been dispatched.


    The young mage looked at his summon in regret. "You didn''t get to show your stuff in this dinky cave. If I''d have sent you to help you could have tripped up somebody. Don''t worry. Soon enough, there will be plenty of bones for you to chew on."

 208 The Fool 13

    Nodding, the young mage got busy. The eerie quite afterwards felt ominous and the load of rotten leather, bows and weapons could make a big difference if there was another wave. While he cannibalized one to better fix another of this or that, hunter watched on curiously.


    "You''re not really mending them. It''s more like you''re fabricating one at the expense of another. If that''s the case, why do you need to even use one as a base? Wouldn''t it be more efficient to just take two similar items and make one out of it? It would save you half the work," the boy commented.


    It was a welcomed shot of realization. Within quick order, there were two good as new bows and two sets of leathers that perfectly fit Cole and Cray.


    Giving the kid his well earned kudos, the young mage said, "I can''t pull up a material pattern for the magic to follow from my head because I''m not much of a craftsman but you''re brilliant. As long as I have two relatively identical items, I hardly need to hold the pattern at all. I can even focus on who I''m making it for, if it''s clothes and armor, pushing their visualized measurements right into the mix!"


    Focused on what he was doing, Orison had failed to recognize the buildup of inert essence that clung to him like glue. The world might supply magic and make volume casting a breeze but it had it''s own balance out for spell happy casters. The greater the amount used, the greater the buildup, making them frailer, more in danger from mundane illness and disease. There were other unpleasant consequences for trailing a smog of inert essence but there was nothing for it except letting natural processes and his understanding of the dull substance to take care of the issue over time.


    Turning to Cray, Orison said, "Now that you have a bow again, save the caster gun as an emergency weapon. That thing is causing spent magic to stick to you. A little bit''s relatively harmless and possibly even beneficial over time but larger amounts are bad, very bad."


    The archer looked at Orison to say something when a skeleton with black bones, wrapped in a tattered shroud, floated down into view. Seeing that it was about to cast a spell, the young mage sicked the summoned the spectral dog at it. Both dog and skeleton sank out of view while the ghostly canine chewed on the skeleton''s skull.


    All eyes glued on the cave opening, he said, "You were saying, Cray?"


    Readying the bow, the archer said, "I was just going to say how nice it feels to have a familiar friend in hand."


    Orison changed what he was going to reply. "Hey, it''s roughly about eighty feet to the water below us. I thought it was a lot farther."


    "Not again," the young mage gasped out before he was swallowed in darkness.


    For what felt like only an instant, three overlapping pictures presented themselves at the same time. A swirling violent chaos he was glad he hadn''t seen longer, contained a calm eye. Towards the top of which, laid a rapidly spinning ringed soul spitting small particles of chaos. Layered on that was a calm dark place that didn''t feel particularly big but seemed to have things in it that he couldn''t make out. Both of those pictures became unnoticeable specks in an endless, uninterrupted nothingness.


    As if reverse sucked back into his own conscious body, the young mage gasped and immediately assessed. The cave was scorched. So were outer parts of Hunter''s arms and feet. The boy was moaning and calling out to Cole who was laying face down, his entire back side a charred ruin.


    With Cray''s fate a mystery, Orison handed a chunk of the healing mud core to Hunter and took a smaller piece over to Cole. After checking to make sure the feline teen was still breathing, he cast a Presto to clean what pieces of ash and burnt leather might be stuck to the gruesome burn wounds. Crumbling up a bit of crystal, he sprinkled it over Cole''s burn wounds while he told Hunter to do the same.


    "Where''s Cray?" he asked.


    A little more harshly than he meant to, the young mage cut off Hunter''s speed retelling of events. The gist was that Cray had went the way of the spectral dog to take down a floating skeleton who had a combination of Levitation, Fireball and some kind of magic item that made kinetic armor. It didn''t sound like an enemy that would have went down easy.


    Carefully looking over the edge, the dusting of predawn light revealed bedlam down below. With all the crumbling off pieces of cliff that had happened over the past two nights, there was a small pile of rubble down below. Focusing to the best of his ability, Orison did notice enough lumps of material and non-rock debris to warrant giving it a closer look anyway.


    Fastening the rappel rope from Roy''s badge in the sturdiest part of the cave he could, the young mage made his way down. At the bottom, he found many broken things, including Cray, who sightlessly stared at the sky. An immense sense of hopelessness washed over Orison for a moment before he realized that, according to the feeble spirit sight he had, Cray wasn''t dead.


    After a quick inspection and emergency heal casting, it was still pretty grim. For a moment, he was ready to end Cray himself. Poised to end the archer, he remembered a scene from lifetimes ago when a child version of himself, put the man back together. It was far worse this time but he just couldn''t mercy kill the man without trying.


    For half an hour, he fished out broken pieces and sprinkled some crystal dust. It finally felt safe enough to move the man. After grabbing anything of interest, storing it into the badge, Orison trudged his way back up. By the time he reached the cave, he would forever be grateful for the catch clip that let him dangle rest.


    After hefting the paralyzed and catatonic archer over the lip, he pulled himself in. Heaving for oxygen and shaking from overused muscles, he hobbled over to Hunter to see how Cole was coming along. After seeing what the boy was doing, he snatched up the small remaining crystal.


    "More is not better with this thing. In fact, more can become a slower, more painful kind of death if you pack on more than his body can handle. You''re doing fine. Just... spread around what you''ve already put on him to a more liberal degree," the young mage said.


    Another hour later and Cray was a road map of field surgery scars. He was still catatonic but how the man had survived was no longer a mystery. The enemy that Cray had taken down had been a lich. Even as the accursed creature was dying, it had used some kind of foul magic to trap Cray''s soul in his body. It was planning to slowly feed on the essence and cloak it''s own dirty, phylactery protected soul til it could claim the body.


    Over time, the lich''s remaining flesh and bone was as black as lightless night. So much inert essence had clogged it up that the sustaining necromantic energies were sluggish and slow to repair what time was finally winning the battle to erode away. As much as it vexed the undead mage, Cray presented a golden opportunity to be a magical powerhouse again.


    That golden opportunity wasn''t only snatched away by Orison but had become one for the young mage instead. After insuring that Hunter and Cole knew what to do if he passed out for any significant length of time again, he drew on instinct and knowledge to activate his 2D cutout form for a mere split second with the phylactery in hand.


    He breathed a sigh of relief after a couple of minutes. Nothing strange had happened other than being extremely tired. Then, vertigo and nausea hit so hard, he nearly choked on his own stomach contents before passing out. Like the time before, he had once again been drawn in to view the three overlaid scenes.


    It wasn''t safe for his fragile spirit sense to watch the first at all. It was strange that a creature as peaceful and loving as Green had been possessed such a violent and chaotic spiritual world. Such a thing was a good reminder that even a placid lake can hide untold horrors. It was a lesson a certain lich soul experienced first hand before oblivion claimed it and its magical container.


    In a fascinated terror of his own, Orison watched as tender shoots of tree branch-like latticework unfurled and instantly withered to diseased corruption. Unsatisfied with unholy functional immortality, the lich had placed one doozy of a death grudge curse on itself. Just like that, the young mage''s safe soul eating possibilities came and went in the blink of an eye. Or so he thought.


    Once the lich was undeniably unrecoverable, a few thin ribbons of unknown golden essence descended down to the placid middle space. Everywhere it touched, corrupt damage fled. He hadn''t realized just how mangled the three layered spiritual world was until that moment.


    Under the light of what Orison decided to label karmic virtue, the withered tendrils of grudge and curse laden latticework reestablished a tenuous and fragile existence. Unfortunately, the virtue had ran out of steam before the spiritual healing was even close to complete. For the first time, the young mage wasn''t quite as happy to not have gained much memory knowledge from Green.


    He had no idea what had occurred at the end of her existence to cause such a disastrous mess but her sub soul, all it had held of the pre-reincarnation Orison and her own growth, had all almost been lost. Some of it probably had been. What that was or wasn''t would remain a mystery, perhaps forever.


    It wasn''t the only thing the karmic light had illuminated enough for Orison to see. The calm and relatively stable middle scene, lightly decorated with delicate ivy curls of latticework moving through its most extreme edges to connect everything, briefly became visible. A dilapidated and in poor repair cabin took up almost all the space as shadowy, unknown items floated around the base of the condemned looking rustic home.


    In that moment of spiritual ''illumination'', the young mage attempted to reestablish a connection with the cabin. The moment his fragile sense touched the edges of it''s strange ''slide of time'' border, a quiescent power sprang to life. He could no longer ''see'' but he could vaguely feel that it had activated its most powerful effect. It would be the last time it could.


    Feeling much like how spreading spiderweb cracks in glass sound, the cabin''s self contained ''time space'' collapsed after what must have been a ''rewind'' of greater than intended effect. Shards of a taboo law rejected by the mid dimensions were momentarily lodged into the boundaries of the space before becoming billowy wisps drawn into the ''great nothing'' of the third scene.


    The shockwave of shattered law almost registered as little more than a breeze to his consciousness but the mysterious force shot it out of his inner world like a cannon ball. Before he stabilized within his physical form, he had an ''out of body'' experience. For a few breaths of stress inducing panic, the young mage ''viewed'' the ''real'' astral plane, unable to comprehend what he saw. With as much might as his weak spiritual consciousness possessed, he reeled himself as quickly back into his body as possible.


    Exiting the misty, indecipherable realm, he saw himself and the other three. For the extra second he had before slamming home, Cole looked in his direction. Hunter was fussing over the remaining faded burn scars and hopelessly trying to cover the bald spot on the back of the feline teen''s head. Cray was oddly doubled, his spiritual and physical self out of sync and tenuously connected more by curse than natural connection.


    Spiritual consciousness safely back within the protection of soul created aura and spirit sight dimmed back down to slightly better than nonexistent, the young mage came to with a shocked gasp. Taking in the wide vista of blasted and withered land, he almost wished he could pass back out than face was was to come. With a heavy sigh followed by choking coughs, he stood up on wobbly legs.


    Hunter looked over and said, "Thank god you''re back. Cole is about to collapse. He had to carry us up one by one over seventy feet of crazy stupid cliff."


    Looking over at the obviously tired feline teen, Orison said in amazement, "How did you manage that?"


    Too tired to glare, Cole adopted a dull, intelligence insulting look and replied, "Very carefully. Claws help."


    Orison said, "Fortunately for us, that leathery sack of bones that tried to kill us last night, threw pretty much all he had our way to do it. That means his lair just a bit northeast of here is mostly cleaned out. We''re going to finish cleaning it out and post up in his quarters for the night."


    Hunter said, "How do you know all that?"


    "The soul, like the mind, has a kind of ''life flashes before the eyes'' moment before its gone. I destroyed the lich''s phylactery and have the ability to spy on such moments in certain circumstances. It''s not overly detailed and it happens pretty quick but I could glean that much," the young mage explained.


    A half hour of ration meal break and magic experimenting later, they were riding two to an Enbarr. Not only was he able to cast his trusty horse again with the odd aid the blanket of this world''s magic lent but was able to dual cast once more. The second horse was crumby and barely held together but he didn''t have to have nearly the personal control he needed to exert in Osomo to make it work.


    It was awkward but the young mage managed to get Cray strapped in a sitting position behind him. Following the lead, Hunter did the same much easier with Cole, so the feline teen could take a much needed rest while the boy clung to the reigns and saddle horn for dear life. Over an hour later, at an ambling pace, they came to the lich''s barrow.


    In the malevolent undead''s hurry to neutralize the threat in its territory, it hadn''t covered up the entrance and most of the traps inside were currently disabled. Despite that, Orison had his spectral hound take point and dispatched a small five ball cloud of ''sprites'' as well. After all, even an undead society would have its malcontents and the lich would no doubt have some surprises to thwart the ambitious.


    Without the guiding hand of the lich behind them, the scant remaining skeletons and a couple of shrouded skeleton mages were not the same threat they were. While meandering through the hidden underground tomb, Hunter commented on the lich''s aesthetic, sometimes earning chuckles from Orison or frowns Cole when unintentional admiration slipped through. He knew what the kid was doing. To distract himself from the despair inducing horror of it all, Hunter was analyzing the place like a DM setting up a dungeon to raid.


    "How smart is it to hole up in an enemy spawn zone?" Cole said.


    The young mage was about to argue that there was no ''spawn zone'' in this world but suddenly realized that undead were certainly an exception. Defeated foes could reconstruct under the influence of enough negatively shifted ambient magic and there was plenty of that. Add on top that he was only ninety percent sure this place didn''t speed recycle like Osomo, that left another ten percent possibility to be wrong and Orison wasn''t willing to eat his words enough to correct.


    The young mage responded, "Even if those things come back, I assure you their leader isn''t. If we come under siege like we did in the cave, the lich''s lair has an emergency escape tunnel with plenty of fun ways to play with our pursuers if they follow us."


    Hunter nodded and said, "Yeah, the boss of this dungeon had flair for what a good crawl should be like."


    "It''s eerily coincidental how well your game mechanics view of this world fits. Just remember that it''s alright to be confident but keep a healthy dose of skepticism on hand. You might get thrown a curve ball," the young mage said.


    "Please stop complimenting the thing that turned my backside into street vendor barbecue. What you''re admiring were meant to kill us, not some play pretend person," Cole said grimly.


    Embarrassed and ashamed, Hunter quickly apologized to Cole with watery eyes. Visions of charred flesh and sickening smells no doubt still lingering in the boy''s mind. From the sideline, Orison saw that Cole felt bad about hammering Hunter''s fragile chipper mood into paste but the feline teen was far better at verbal tear downs than apologies.


    Suddenly remembering a question he''d meant to ask earlier, the young mage adjusted Cray''s weight on his back and said, "Speaking of which, how did I avoid the charbroil experience?"


    Cole said, "Your buddy there tackled our would be murderer as it was finishing its cast, making it go up and wide of where you were. I think your uniform might be fire resistant too."


    Orison said, "Ah, that makes sense. Since you actually play with fire but probably have a new found respect for its dangers, I''ll resize it for you, Hunter. I''d much prefer a-AHH FU-fudge packing son of a biscuit eater!"


    Focused on the boy, the young mage had stepped on a floor spike trap that hadn''t fully deployed. As it was, several barbed metal tips had poked holes through his boot and into his left foot, sticking him painfully in place.

 209 The Fool 14

    The boy stopped praising the lich''s ingenuity after almost tasting its fatal genius but he also was becoming sullen and listless again. In an attempt to restore some of the boy''s flagging spirits, Orison pointed out that after avoiding disaster, good fortune was sure to follow.


    Between ever deeper pants of fatigue from hefting Cray around while ignoring the twangs of pain from a not completely healed foot, the young mage said, "Just think. The real treasure here isn''t money and gems. It''s a bonafide caster''s spellbook, we''re looking at finding."


    Cole quipped, "Pity the sea claimed the bonafide caster''s best equipment."


    Agitated, the young mage pointed out, "If it wasn''t for a low tide, we would have lost Cray. Each one of us is worth a hell of a lot more than a couple of neat pieces of equipment. We got the good trade."


    He could tell that Cole wanted to make a comment about their ''good trade'' but possessed the bare minimum amount of social grace and gratitude to not state the obvious. That didn''t stop him from addressing the issues Cray represented, however.


    "I may not be a fellow admirer of our celestial kidnapper but she did underline some real problems we''ll be facing. Have you considered which of the three bad options you favor and how... our friend adds into that?" Cole said, making a solid effort to state it as tactfully as he could.


    Rolling around what factors he knew Orison responded, "If there isn''t a solution to Cray''s problem in the lich''s lair, I have one last ''Hail Mary'' to throw. After that, if there''s no sign of improvement and no further hope of recovery, I-I''ll do what needs to be done... I''m for wintering. Finding food in a forest while we take time to prepare ourselves as best we can sounds like the best choice."


    Attempting to project a hopefulness he wasn''t feeling in the least, Cole said, "We''re on the same page... Having someone raised in the woods on our team would be a huge help. I''ll be waiting for good news."


    The young mage hadn''t needed a reminder of how heavy the burden Cray represented while he sweated away on legs starting to get shaky. Luckily, they were close to their destination. He wanted to hold some grudge for Cole not helping him out but the feline teen was the primary reason their trip had been relatively easy. They were dangerously close to a repeat of the ''Endless Corridor'' incident.


    While he fiddled with the inner lair''s warded door, trying to piece together a safe way to open it without taking enough curse magic to kill a raise him as undead despite his ability to absorb some, Cole said, "You''d think there''d be at least a low level remnant or two. Why weren''t there any ghosts or or greater undead servants?"


    For once, Hunter''s gamer logic was wrong as he supposed some kind of struggle for territory or experiments gone wrong.


    Pausing for a moment on the door puzzle, Orison explained, "These guys, all of them, are older than sin itself. If not for that, forget not being a match for that lich, we''d have been fragile toys to play with. Weight of centuries had dulled it''s wits and corroded its abilities. Even its very body was finally losing the battle against entropy.


    "Oh, and it had evolved into a soul eater too. Over its long tenure here, to keep hanging on, it had slowly went through its own henchmen with any spiritual substance like emergency rations. At it''s rate of decline, a few more decades would have finished it off... In Osomo terms, we finished off a calamity while it was on its last legs but enough spirit left to fight instead of running away, the mother of all lucky chances."


    Cole snorted. "You mean, getting the finishing blow after everyone else had wiped a respawn. Surprise fighting anything on it''s last legs is the mother of all UNLUCKY chances. At least, that''s what I heard. Unlike you, I was never a Chosen."


    The young mage sighed and finished opening the door. It took an hour total but he relearned lock/unlock in the process. In fact, it was a better version that registered as a transmutation. It was likely what the original tome was supposed to grant before the Will of Amoril shut it down.


    He shared his findings on the possibilities of doing a spell with similar effects using a different ''school'' of magic while he went around activating outer defenses and deactivating ones in the lair. Hunter fired back an equally interesting possibility in return. In theory, healing could be an evocation spell, humorously what Orison thought of as destruction magic. Since it dealt with raw forces, raw ''positive energy'' fit the description. The effects of vital water pretty much verified the theory.


    Suddenly, a few months being trapped in a snow bound place didn''t seem so bad. Before it was all said and done, it might become difficult to decide who was the student and who the teacher before it was over. As a climber whose preferred self defense was magic, Orison hadn''t experienced a great deal of power growth in the area since his days of Amoril and Hunter''s insight could be a major turning point in his abilities matching his capabilities.


    "Alright, you can watch me if you want but don''t touch anything that I haven''t looked over once. There''s curses all over the place in here," the young mage said after they found a nice cleared spot to lay Cray at.


    Exhausted to the point of collapse himself, Orison finally cleared all the identifiable dangers in the room and got back to where Hunter had been looking through the lich''s book collection.


    The unsurprisingly erudite boy said, "I''m sorry, Orison. There was a soul mending solution here but according to the information in this work logbook, it''s spoiled. Ingredients to make them with became rare over a hundred years ago and the breeding stock they used the...m... on, became too... nonviable.


    "My god! They bred people for food. And after they were used up, skeleton foot soldiers was their fate. There were thousands upon thousands for generations... I assumed that they just dug them up from graveyards or something. That''s..."


    "Monstrous? They''re monsters. The sad reality is, many human empires throughout history weren''t much better... Cole any healing looking items among the loot collection?" Orison said.


    The feline teen offered, "I''ve been working with Hunter to go through this stuff and you toasted a good half of it as it is. No good news on the healing front but we do have one sunny piece. We got a refilling water jug and a spoon that makes a few bowls of edible paste a day. There were a set but these are the only ones that still work. Since we already know WHY the monster had them, lets not dwell on it.


    "We have this storage bag filled with dust and a few ratty chests with item crafting materials in it. Oh, there''s his soul orb. We could crack it and set them free but it stopped being people souls put in it awhile back. It''s evil THING souls, now."


    The young mage''s eyes lit up. "THAT could improve the chances of my last ditch effort with Cray a lot. Let me see it."


    Hesitantly, Cole handed the orb to him while giving him a funny look. Once Orison had inspected it, took a few minutes to reference it in the lich''s meticulous logbook and finally combed through the souls inside, he was ready. For the couple of souls that had managed by sheer luck to reach a kind of neutrality by attacking and devouring the weaker evil souls inside, he made a deal to release them into the ''veil'' in return for being able to use their impressions in his summoning magic for a time. For the rest, he planned on devouring them.


    The young mage said, "Alright, please hold your personal opinions on what I''m about to do but I have a severely damaged soul, you two have relatively average souls and Cray needs spiritual strength badly to help with what''s to come. When I beckon you like so, line your chest point up here and your forehead point here up with mine. If I lose consciousness..."


    The young mage explained how he would share the spiritual ''loot'' with his group and how to help Cray when the time came. Once he''d thought and expressed every contingency he could, he began pulling spirit essence from the orb using its commands. It was novel to have so much control over the flow of enrichment after so many memories of shotgun blasts worth of it at a time.


    One major disappointment was the lack of karmic gain. Apparently, the way he was ''destroying wickedness'' balanced out in the eyes of whatever supernatural force was keeping tally. In retrospect, soul eating was ridiculously wicked an act itself and if the souls he was destroying in the process weren''t old monsters, it would have come up a huge net loss of virtue. The possibility of becoming damned and ''falling'' wasn''t out of consideration either.


    Using the amount of essence Hunter and Cole had taken in before tapping out as a guideline, Orison formulated how much to give Cray and erred on the side of caution. While his two companions held the archer to him, the young mage gently pushed the allotted amount of essence before downing the dregs for himself. He didn''t end up really getting that much for himself in comparison to the sludge his latticework had collected but it was all for a good cause in his mind.


    He had never and didn''t plan on trying to turn soul eating into a power growth option. His intuition had fed to him on multiple occasions, when it was stronger, what the result of such a path was. He didn''t want to go anywhere near such an end goal but an initial overall boost was worth the faint whisper and slight craving egging him to indulge in it more. It would fade with time. And if past experience was anything to go off of, the total he''d taken in barely qualified.


    In worry, the ever observant Hunter said, "Isn''t soul eating addictive and evil?"


    "Yes and yes. But depending on the soul, the consequences can be much less dire. Don''t worry. I find the concept loathsome and pretty much only make exception for the worst of the worst and undead. Anything undead with spiritual substance flies in the face of natural order enough for karma to not take offense," the young mage justified.


    Hunter looked unconvinced and only more disturbed.


    Cole added, "One way or another, it doesn''t seem to have done much except make me feel bloated. Cray doesn''t look any better either."


    Orison nodded thoughtfully. "It''ll take time to digest and make it yours but it should give you a touch of supernatural sensitivity of some kind, depending on personal inclination. As far as Cray goes, this was to strengthen and bolster his soul so that it can heal its connection. I haven''t gone in to apply the spiritual stitches yet, so to speak."


    After a discussion about advantages and disadvantages, they decided to extend their stay some. The lair had a great deal of useful things and storage was limited. A little digestion time for Orison and some more time to scour the place ended up winning over fear of reprisal from the undead empire that stretched for a myriad of miles inland.


    Over the course of evening and into the morning of the next day, rough changes of watch mellowed out to decent rest. It would have been when they would originally have left but Hunter wanted to explore the book collection a bit more. Cole wanted to look for hidden stashes that no doubt existed. Most importantly, Orison was looking to proceed with the last option he had left to try to pull Cray back into a functioning person again.


    Getting everything ready, Orison was grateful to have Hunter on hand. Not only did the fifteen year old boy have a decent maturity for his age, he helped explain things out to Cole who was far more dubious after he saw what was entailed. An occasional comic point even helped alleviate the young mage''s own misgivings about what he was about to do.


    "Okay, I understand the whole aligning of the chakra points stuff but why do we have to watch one half naked guy hug another for an hour. Orison can just stop whenever he wants," Cole said.


    Hunter replied, "It''s kind of weird metaphysical but he''ll be deep concentrating. We can still do what we''re doing. We just have to be ready to jump in if something unexpected happens. It''s not any different than when we take turns watching while everyone sleeps."


    Cole looked at the basin. "What''s up with the tub of water?"


    "He said things can get nasty. Expelling impurities from the body and stuff. Overall it sounds like a pretty good thing. You can even share stuff you know and understand," Hunter said, looking smug.


    "Are there downsides?" the feline teen said, gaining interest.


    Hunter replied, "Mostly, it''s just hard to do. You''ve got to trust a lot because you''re leaving yourself pretty vulnerable to the other person. I guess you could get lost in it and end up marking each other but even that doesn''t sound too serious as long as you get along."


    If Orison hadn''t been mentally and spiritually adjusting, he would have corrected that one but he figured he''d have plenty of time afterward. Hunter might be curious but Cole was even more cautious that himself in the young mage''s mind.


    The conversation continued with Cole asking finer details and Hunter regurgitating Orison''s explanations with minor misunderstandings. He tuned them out altogether as he made a final check over. As an added precaution, Orison placed a magic circle as well to keep spiritual things contained and outside spiritual forces from interfering. It wasn''t an ideal place to be doing such a thing but the alternative was too difficult and possibly would lead to unsolvable problems resulting in the loss of Cray.


    He gave himself one last mental pep talk. "Oh, Cray. Buddy, if you hadn''t saved everyone''s bacon on the way almost out the door, there''s no way in hell I''d be doing this for you. If this was pre-reincarnation Orison here with you it wouldn''t have happened either. His incident with Ivan scared the bajeezus out of him.


    "In good conscience, I have to at least try when I know it has a good chance of working. I even have Celeste reviving her thought form friend as evidence... Not going to lie. Most of my courage comes from knowing you can''t move and will be almost completely passive.


    "So, if anyone makes a mistake, it''s going to be me. And even then, if you''re restored enough to get angry, at least I can say, ''The fact you can jump my a** about it is thanks to the thing you''re mad about''. Hehe, try arguing with that!"


    Before he lost his nerve, Orison delved in. Cray''s spiritual world was small, simple and clean. Or, at least, it was. Adam''s inheritance was like strangely rich and slightly gaudy furnishings inside a quaint and unassuming country cottage. Cray''s soul had been in a bit of a dilemma even before the lich incident.


    Before he got to work fixing the spiritual disconnect issue, he did some ''spring cleaning'', returning things to order and throwing out trash. Along the way, he discovered bits and pieces that were refuse for Cray but would be useful to him. There was a vague sense of asking permission and receiving it that made such a thing alright, like a friend who was a bit awkward feeling about getting his house cleaned but thankful it was getting done.


    ***


    Along the way of delving deeper into the symbolic exercise, the young mage felt Cray''s presence become less and less passive in the repairs. Orison would hold the fabric tight on a restuffed and reupholstered couch while Cray nailed it snugly in place. After seeing that Orison looked a little faded and tired, he invited him in for something to drink and relaxed a bit before they went back outside, clearing a beaver dam out of the creak behind his place.


    Suddenly, Orison didn''t feel so good. Being the good friend that he was, Cray took him home. One look at the insane mash of shopping mall/temple/townhouse, the archer rolled up his sleeves and followed the example that the young mage had set. Having it pointed out how terrible of a hoarder he was, Al was embarrassed to death.


    While in the midst of ''spring cleaning'' the townhouse, Al noticed that Cray was starting to look faded and tired. Rummaging around, he found some Mad God brand soft serve chaos flavored ice cream he''d forgotten he had stashed away in a dim corner. Whipping it up from scratch, they sat down to finish it off before it went bad and washed it down with some ''spirits'' in Al''s liquor cabinet.


    Rejuvenated, they got back to work ordering things and transforming the weird mashup into something that made sense. When Cray started feeling a little ill, the green lady offered to take him home while Al kept working.

 210 The Fool 15

    Al knew that Cray and the Green lady got up to some monkey business and even though that disturbed him, ultimately it made them all feel a little happier. So, he kept his discontent to himself. Wanting someone to confide those discordant feelings to, Al went looking for White only to find that the guy had moved to their other house, leaving most of his stuff behind.


    That was fine. Eventually, he knew they''d all be staying in the same house some day. Looking around the temple part of his home, however, Al shook his head and got busy again. Later, Al had finished doing all he could for the time being and was really proud of how everything was coming together. With an armload of things he thought Cray would be interested in, he called his friend and the green lady over to take a look.


    Neither Cray, nor the green lady were that happy to be interrupted but she was feeling a bit tired anyway. While he was there and the green lady was resting, Cray lent a helping hand for a bit but Al could tell his heart wasn''t in it. The archer wanted to get back to doing more monkey business with her. It still bothered Al but Cray was an awesome friend and there wasn''t really anything to complain about.


    While they were waiting around, the archer saw that there was still quite a bit of stuff that wasn''t useful to them but might be to someone else. Al confided that in the early days, there had been a few other friends around and he had collected it to share with them but hadn''t been able to get around to it for some reason. Cray pointed out that it was getting in the way and making it hard to finish what Al had started.


    It made Al sad but he had to agree that it was true. He couldn''t get himself to just throw it away, though. Brainstorming, they came up with the idea to have a yard sale giveaway. Al could sense a couple of neighbors and two homeless people he had some kind of arrangement with. Cautiously, they invited them to the edge of his property.


    Immediately, Al noticed that the neighbors were little better than kids. They were close to being men, one a little more than the other, but he caught them acting high and doing dumb stuff. So, it was hard seeing them as anything other than children. He didn''t really know how to handle the situation but the green lady did. She sternly but lovingly helped the two boys iron out things while they looked over the stuff Al was giving away.


    Seeing one display weakness, the other attempted to jump them. The green lady wasn''t having that and moved to murder the mean one. Al interceded and gave the mean one a different choice. If the mean one would take out the trash for them, Al would give them what was left of the giveaway stuff too. But after that, they would have to f*** off.


    Faced with a no brainer between oblivion or garbage and free stuff to pick through, they agreed. Between Al, Cray and the green lady, they got the kids sorted out before taking care of the crying one and pushing some rotten garbage along with the remaining giveaway stuff to the mean homeless person. Goals taken care of, the kids went back to their homes while Cray and the green lady went back to monkey business to Al''s humored annoyance.


    With nothing better to do, he conversed with the crying one that looked shinier and happier. Over to the side, the mean one wolfed down all the garbage and leftover giveaway stuff until they became like a large, dark tick and fell somewhere, leaving a confused and weak looking person behind. It was another homeless person that the mean one had eaten but hadn''t finish digesting. The one he was conversing with turned out to be equally confused but so nice that they went over and shared a little of what they had so that the other one wouldn''t fade and disappear.


    They were all clean and relatively put together again but they were still homeless. Al knew that meant they would eventually become no different than they had been before, if left as they had been. Reaching deep for an answer, he remembered that there was an Oberon and a Titania doll in his attic. Why he thought such a thing could be a home, he wasn''t quite sure but he knew they could. He fetched them and filled them with a touch of free floating ''self stuff'' along with two pieces of some life giving hard stuff from some other place outside of himself that he could reach.


    Al barely had time to give the dolls to the homeless people before the green lady felt what he was up to and grew upset that Al was giving away ''real things'' from the ''real world'' to strangers. After she got done chewing him out, they forgave each other, him for being a spendthrift and her for overreacting. And while hugging it out, they weren''t ''they'' but one and aware that they were part of one person called Orison.


    He felt like something was coming to an end. A flash of images depicting old lives forgotten lead to the different lives of his shadowy echoes. Between the two sets, there weren''t many major classifications of intelligent life he hadn''t been. There hadn''t hardly been a type of person he''d not ''worn'' either. A soul indiscriminately sought fulfillment and that journey meant many roads. The revelation was that the form of a vessel wasn''t nearly as important to a soul as it''s experiences were, especially ones that forced a person to grow beyond the boxes people caged themselves in.


    ***


    He woke up. With a surety he hadn''t possessed before, he didn''t feel like an Al or an Orison. One was only a part of him and the other he was only a part of. Before addressing his traumatized or otherwise engaged group, the first thing he did was give himself a name to use until he was ''whole Orison'' again, if ever. Sitting up from the nest of salvaged bedding and cushions he''d been laid on, He walked over to Cray who was still numbly fumbling to dress himself because ''the kids'' were still dealing with their own issues.


    Squatting down, he pulled everything into place, buttoning and buckling whatever needed it. "I know. Inside, there was a pretty lady and what I hope you see as a nice guy. Outside, it''s just me. I want to freak out, kick scream and cry but that isn''t going to change what is or stop what''s going to be. So, how about this?


    "I''m sorry for anything I might have done that hurt you. Thank you for all your help, too. And if I managed to do anything right, that you might have actually appreciated, you''re welcome."


    Cray tried to speak but all that came out was mostly stuttering and a few weak moans of scared hopelessness.


    Smiling and projecting as many positive vibes as he was capable, the young mage said, "It''s not as bad as it seems. In a couple of days or so, you''ll be able to talk and move around alright... I don''t want to hop you up too much but what I was mostly worried about was your soul''s loose connection with your body. The body, I''m pretty sure we can do something about real soon."


    Unable to help from projecting some uneasiness, he added, "I knew it was going to be bad and I can''t even imagine how much pain you were in. Did I do the right thing trying to save you? Do you hate me?... There ended up being a lot more consequences to what I tried to do for you than I thought there''d be."


    It was hard for Cray to spit it out but he insisted til he managed to express that he didn''t hate the young mage and wanted to share that he was also sorry, thankful and was happy to do what he could. As pretty a picture as those words painted, the young mage could see that there was a lot of turmoil going on behind Cray''s eyes that a few simple words on either side couldn''t resolve.


    The young mage said, "Until this life is done and I move on to other things, whether that be wholeness as Orison again or something else, call me Aleph. I have a desire for oneness, as the name suggests, but it also holds Al and Epha in it. That was what the one friend Green had in that other place, called her.


    "Whatever we accept, reconcile or decide to put behind us amounts to, we can start fresh today with that. Besides, we have a whole winter of getting sick of what remains of the ration bars and whatever that magic spoon makes to figure it all out... Hi. I''m Aleph Rainier. Pleased to meet you Cray."


    Aleph extended a hand in greeting. A little jerkily, Cray did the same, looking a great deal more relieved. Hitting them both with Presto, the young mage got dressed after realizing that he needed to. And with barely suppressed fury, he stalked over to where Hunter sat cradling the head of Cole who had fell asleep while having an emotional meltdown.


    Before he could begin, Hunter tried to take the initiative. "I didn''t think we could do it. I just wanted to imitate so I could learn. Please don''t be mad! It was-"


    The young mage made a snapping shut motion with his hands that he''d seen Macy use before. "Being the last one to wake up means that I have a healthy dose of plausible deniability to keep me from wanting to beat you to death. Whatever you saw or know about what happened today, keep it to yourself and I''ll begin to forgive you... Everyone gets ''one''. Betray my trust again and you''re going to have a hell of a time earning it back.


    "That aside, are you and Cole alright? Is there any spiritual or mental damage that I need to be aware of? I might still be angry but we''re still all each other has to survive this. I wouldn''t want to see either of you hurt just because of some relatively basic human error type stuff... Er, maybe people error? Error''s that entities with emotions and crap, can make. The more I know the less I understand."


    Looking slightly conflicted himself, Hunter said, "We were lost sharing things when you flagged us over to you. After that lady helped us shove ourselves back where we were supposed to be, we snapped out of it. We kind of had a realization. I died from being shot and he killed himself after shooting a kid before he became who he is now.


    "Putting it together, along with his ''debt'' to me... Whatever. I mean, yeah, it makes me mad but he lived a short and horrible life between then and now. He even answered the call to serve off his debt and all that. It just sounds stupid to be all hateful, now."


    Aleph grew thoughtful. "Okay. Well, if anything changes, don''t hesitate to come to me with important stuff, now or any other time in the future when I''m miffed at you. Angry doesn''t mean I don''t care. We good on that?"


    Hunter nodded silently.


    He added, "I hope you do get along. Since you guys managed to mark each other''s souls pretty solidly, there''s a good chance you''re going to be running buddies for a long while. That can be a good or very bad thing if you start not getting along.


    "Oh, just an FYI. Don''t do what we did today, again. Not unless you have a damn good reason and some side help to set a disruption timer. Theoretically, we could have stayed locked in that state til we died."


    Not knowing if it was day or night outside, nor how long they''d been there, Aleph made the call to pack it up and be on their way. Seeing that Hunter was filling the storage bag with nothing but books, he interrupted the process by giving his protege a strict limit. He made it a little easier by taking some books himself along with the basic alchemy equipment that the lich continued to maintain.


    It would still be some time before Aleph''s inner space was ''illuminated'' enough for him to use the majority but an extra couple of footlocker''s worth of space had been added to the shoe box''s worth that he had before. The badge and cellphone, the only items in the previously small illuminated space, had been joined by a few others. A bag of gems and coins, a broom a fancy looking tome and a hand mirror had joined the mix.


    However his space was making itself available to him, it was doing so from last to first. He could vaguely recognize that the newly revealed items were among the ones Al had been pelted with on the stairs. As he reached to pull them out, the first glimmer of light refracted off the mirror and hit the book, producing a copy before the mirror felt completely mundane in his hand.


    That wasn''t the only thing that happened. He also saw them growing fuzzy around their edges. There was a hint that if he pulled them out, they would just simply vanish. It was a frustrating mystery but then he remembered that the force likely responsible for their creation was also responsible for basically stealing it all back for everyone else too. Being accidentally drawn into his space was the only thing that had kept them from being snatched back.


    As for all the ''spring cleaning'' his soul had endured, he felt light and unburdened. A large reason why he hadn''t had a total melt down like Cole had was mainly because of that. His casting time was also faster and more efficient. Not only was his magic reservoir and channels a bit deeper and sturdier, he had managed to cobble together a meditation technique that was as good, if not better, than the one Red had taken when the Orisons split apart. As much as he didn''t want to admit it, that was mostly due to the useful parts of Adam''s inheritance that contained a Rogers family secret ''veins as channels'' magic cultivation technique.


    After taking a peak out at the other side of the emergency escape tunnel of the lich''s, finding some vulgar wealth and offensive consumable magic items along the way, they rested behind the magic seal trapdoor until daybreak. With some time to burn, Aleph demonstrated an alternate version of the fixed meditation technique to Cray. It would definitely help with recovery speed.


    "What''s the deal? We''re doing what you''re saying to do but it''s not working for us," Cole said as he tried to follow the lesson from the side.


    The young mage replied, "Cray has a good chunk of this already in his memories. I''m just fixing it to work on ambient magic rather than the supplement combo it was originally intended for. When we have time, I''ll teach you guys from the beginning. Besides, Hunter needs to learn the version I use. That''s going to take much longer."


    Time was of the essence once dawn came. Two Enbarrs and a breakfast on the road later, the young mage continued keeping Cray supplied with a trickle of filtered magic essence to meditate with while teaching Hunter about magic cycling. Both horses were indistinguishable from each other and ran as smooth as silk, allowing conversing without fear of a bitten tongue.


    As it neared evening, they started looking for a place to tent up in relative safety. Ruminating over the day, they had made good time and distance despite problems. At every rest, Aleph would hit the four of them with a short burst heal aimed at the tender parts to deal with adjusting to life on horseback while even meals were eaten on the go, only dropping the spoon that made such a thing possible once.


    The first night was an exercise in trying to preserve frayed nerves as the only thing they could find was a hillock with only a reasonable hollowing to provide cover. After doing what they could to camouflage under Cray''s guidance, everyone but Hunter took a turn at watch. The boy was just too jumpy to be allowed to pull a shift by himself and there wasn''t really a need to have two sentries.


    Despite a little initial awkwardness, no one had a problem with the puppy piling in the tent either. It got too chilly at night for anyone to think of anything but trying to get warm enough to sleep comfortably. It weighed on everyone that if the weather took a turn for the worse, what little space they could provide each other for shifting around would turn into a luxury.

 211 The Fool 16

    Cole snorted and said, "You can say that because you don''t know hunger. Starving to death is a slow and miserable way to go."


    Looking slightly haunted, Cray added, "There was one time... I-I t-think... we ate an elf. Everyone g-got real s-sick like afterwards. The cook d-din''t serve m-mystery meant no more. W-we boiled a f-few boots a couple time too."


    Aleph said sympathetically, "At least when you know there''s no food to be had, you just focus on enduring. I couldn''t imagine being so close to an ocean full of possibilities, literally, but too afraid of an arrow or a fireball to sneak more than an occasional fish for yourself before rushing back to base."


    Cray nodded. "Lot a folks d-died t-t-trying to f-f-f... trying to fish or f-forage."


    After a couple of days, issues with spiritual disconnection began fading away. But it was obvious that without some magical assistance greater than heals alone, with the damage to mind and body, Cray might never fully recover. A slow creep of despondency and depression pushed at the edges of Cray''s naturally easygoing disposition.


    The young mage checked the progression of spacial illumination. It was a habit that was turning into an obsessive tick. Nearly a third was revealed but he was far from being able to pull out the cabin. It was a slim hope but there were some possible things in it that could help if time and situation hadn''t reduced them to uselessness.


    Green had kept a few simples she had discovered on her trek across virgin forest to the pioneer town she had settled in. It had been a relatively low magic world but she had found a few things that might provide some additional recovery. For another time among countless others, Aleph felt a sense of unease and helplessness.


    On day three, the temperature took a plunge and the dreary overcast blew a few spurts of icy slush towards evening. The dreary weather had them seeking shelter much earlier and put Aleph to work further consolidating clothing and leather armor into something that could withstand the deeper chill. After one spectacular failure that wasted precious materials, he had given up on the idea of enchanting some form of magical solution to temperature issues.


    Instead, even though it ruined some of its convenience, he reinforced the tent with what scant remaining fabric they had. Hunter did his part by casting and preparing Degree Shift multiple times a day. Erring on the side of caution, even once trees and other vegetation started becoming visible, they had yet to resort to building a fire.


    Two more days and ten degrees colder later, their slow turn to a northeast angle had finally brought them to enough foliage to consider themselves in the edges of some kind of forested region. Cray commented that it seemed as if nature was reclaiming the area. It was further proof in Aleph''s mind that the undead empire to the south of them was in a decline.


    On their sixth night, Cray woke everyone and pointed to the distance with a slightly trembling hand. Trying not to focus on what the limits of healing had managed to recover for the archer, Aleph strained eyes starting to suffer from too much spirit sight to see well in the dark but not enough to replace sight. It was Cole that managed to provide detailed answers after a cautiously closer examination.


    The feline teen said, "It''s a war band of bone heads dragging back an ugly white furred thing that''s sort of humanish looking."


    Cole shot down Cray''s suggestion that it could be an ape and Hunter''s suggestion of a yeti or Bigfoot was as well. When Aleph suggested troll, Cole was about to offhandedly dismiss it but after the young mage described the two different variety he knew of, the second one fit the bill.


    With growing apprehension but a touch of hope after looking at Cray, Aleph and Hunter looked at each other.


    Nearly in sync, the black teen said, "Troll blood?" while the young mage exclaimed, "Troll fat!"


    Getting themselves into fighting order, they rode off after the skeleton raiding party. Once close enough to see their targets, Aleph summoned impressions of the two monstrous souls he had made a bargain with. To his surprise, until the hallucination memories of his time ''communing'' with Cray gave him an answer, two adult human sized fairies appeared.


    The one in dark armor held eyes that gave off a haze of eldritch green light. Banging a large sword against his kite shield, he lightly skimmed across the ground in a half floating dash. In a fluttering cloud of faintly shimmering gray silk, his ethereal and otherworldly partner flew behind him in a deceptively lazy looking bee waltz. A scent of lavender and ozone trailed behind her as malicious indigo eyes chose their prey.


    Rushing to catch up, Aleph shouted, "Don''t singe the fur!"


    Cole glanced behind him at the young mage nervously before deciding to slow his pace to match the rest of his group. That didn''t particularly help Hunter or Cray much as they brought up the tail end. Before any of them could join the fray, the dark fairy knight shield bashed the first skeleton before making a wide arc swing to shatter the spine of three more.


    Letting of an ear splitting shriek, the hovering witch fairy gathered and released a forking shot of purple lightning from the combined arcane effort of hand and wand. It not only blew the one shrouded skeleton mage of the war band to chalk dust. It also flattened the three skeleton warriors surrounding it to the ground from the clap of concussive energy delivered by the following deafening thunder.


    Immediately after, she faded from sight as the knight made a few more dramatic swings, growing fainter each time. Aleph hadn''t known what to expect but it wasn''t actually that disappointing. Before the knight faded from view as well, he bellowed an apology and explained that they were still in need of recovery time before they could sustain themselves in any realm outside the Astral.


    Stunned and without a leader, the group made short work of the remaining ones but not without casualty. Hunter had an arrow deeply lodged in a lung that nearly claimed his life. A wild swing of a short axe in the hands of one of the skeleton warriors severed three of Cole''s fingers as well.


    With a half of a leg into the grave, Hunter managed to pull through and had little left to recover from outside of replenishing some blood loss and a small hitch while breathing by the time Aleph had finished the heal work. Cole wasn''t quite as lucky. There was some stiffness in his hand and loss of sensation in his fingers that the young mage feared would suffer the same lack of a full recovery that Cray was enduring.


    In his thought''s Aleph complained, "What does this world have against healing magic!? Anywhere else I''ve been, a keloid and other scar tissue interference will correct with healing if caught early. I can barely reconnect a freshly severed nerve with it!"


    Dark and dreary clouds building in everyone''s minds, they went to inspect their prey only to discover that it wasn''t a troll.


    On the verge of tears, the young mage exclaimed, "It''s a f***ing goblinoid. What, a somewhat furry hobgoblin or..."


    Hunter depressingly muttered, "A bugbear. It''s a bugbear. Should we let it go?"


    Bitterly, Cole said, "I''m sure the hissing and snarling is it''s way of saying thank you. I drew close to it when I was fighting and it tried to bite my ankle off. Jerking away from it''s what caused me to lose fingers... Sh*t!"


    After letting loose the curse, the feline teen stomped the skeleton warrior''s head to powder.


    Aleph muttered, "What kind of unfair advantage must the undead empire have had in it''s heyday? When it''s dead, I can mend it together but when something''s alive, healing only acts a little better than..."


    A hint of madness rimmed Aleph''s eyes as he drew a large circle of powdered bone. More and more sacred geometry appeared in the circle as he continued to crush bone and create more symbols. When the wind threatened to blow it away, he cut a small gash in the bugbear''s leg and mixed it with the bone, starting at the beginning.


    In a worried tone, Hunter asked, "What are you doing, Al?"


    Grimly, the young mage replied, "Arcane marriage of concepts. If the world allows life to feed death, then the opposite MUST apply or there is no balance. If there is no balance, the world will suffer. Hunter, I''m going to need your help.


    "I didn''t want to raise alarm but I think Cray might have leukemia and Cole has melanoma. I don''t think I''ll grow strong enough, fast enough, to cast Cure Disease long enough to save them both. Not and still have strength for anything else for weeks, maybe months. That''s not completely hopeless but it locks us down and doesn''t really improve our situation."


    Hunter looked at Cole as guilty anguish swept across his face. "It''s because I used so much-"


    "It''s because we used any at all unprocessed but it was a desperation call. It''s as if some force here favors decline or maybe entropy as a whole. I don''t know." Aleph countered.


    He pulled out the last healing mud core from the badge and broke it in half. Placing one half away for the time being, he put the other in the sacrifice portion of the circle. In triangulated counterpoints to the sacrifice circle, the young mage drew out simplified models of Mend and Heal within each respectively.


    "Cray, at worst, this will end up a ritual assisted heal that might fix a little overall damage at great cost or it''ll save you. But either way, you need to get in there with nothing on. Some of the energy could warp to external items otherwise...


    "Since he''s all but ripping his clothes off to dive in head first, I''ll take that as willingness. Hunter, as soon as he''s in the center, I need you to fire up the circle with your abjuration specialized essence. Cole, keep an eye out for threats and if I give the word, Slit the bugbear''s throat over the sacrifice part of the circle. Are you good with that?"


    Cole smiled grimly. "See, if you hadn''t been such a prick, we might not be using you as magical firewood, you ugly sh*t!"


    Aleph knelt down and prepared a copy of each spell. As soon as Cray was in the center and Hunter had raised the barrier of the circle, the young mage let the spells complete on their circles. For an eternal second, nothing happened. Right as he was about to cut magic to the spells, the energies that had been flowing and mingling through the patterns of the circle all flared up into a shining beacon of soft blue light.


    Within less than a couple of seconds, the core was gone, revealing Cray. Dazed and disoriented, the archer stumbled towards Aleph. The young mage caught and steadied him while exercising what spirit sight he had. At least on the surface, everything checked out to be fine.


    In a quick spit fire, Aleph barked. "Cray, get suited up. Cole, get naked and take your turn in the tanning bed. Hunter, put the core I tossed you into the sacrifice circle, there. Go, go, go!"


    An agonizing half minute later, another beacon of soft blue light flashed up into the night sky. With the dregs remaining, Aleph cast and cycled magic into two Enbarrs, holding consciousness by the skin of his teeth. Arm full of clothes, poor Cole hadn''t even had the opportunity to dress but every split second was critical. They had literally lit up the night sky with pulses of life essence right next to a city-state of life starved undead.


    A little more than a mile away from the sight of their daring-do, as Aleph stopped the horses before passing out, he said little louder than a whisper, "Hunter, ward with all you got. We need... hole in... ground."


    ***


    Different parts of his life played in reruns. Things were much simpler when he had just been a little sub soul in the back of an ambitious boy''s much more aggressive one. Sure, he had to watch passively as everything that had once been his had been devoured and claimed by the other. It hadn''t been very fun to make the choice to blow up the very core of himself to send that boy back to within the bounds of ''structured existence'' when the silk purse had tricked them into uncontrolled ''void stepping'' with its powerful illusions either.


    He thought it was a shame he''d forgotten that they could do that. It would have been very useful. There were a lot of neat ideas he had thought of that could make good use of what the miasma had given them but he''d forgotten them all when most of him was left to drift in the infinite nothing.


    The mistakes, those he was happy to have forgotten. The biggest of which was holding back the knowledge of the power of glamour from the boy when it had activated in the underwater miasma spot. Standing in as the voice of sympathy and compassion for a psychopathic child seemed hard enough without giving that child the ability to supernaturally manipulate others'' emotions.


    Despite holding back as much of it as he could, that boy had still affected many in minor ways subconsciously. The ones that had been affected the most were obviously the ones that spent the most time around him. To offset that, he prompted the boy to be more generous to those than others, eventually providing them a way to step out from under the shadows of that control. Gan, the most twisted, even gained some autonomy after being separated.


    There was one poor soul that had been missed, looked over, however. From the moment they stepped into Cray''s life, the simple country boy had practically lived and breathed for them. From days of errand running and seaweed hunting to long hours of one on one time as their assistant at the Embassy, where the glamour''s power was strengthened by the ''Night of Terrors'' under Amoril''s mass dump of miasma on them.


    As he watched over the entirety of their life, Cray hadn''t seemed that affected despite being completely mundane. The archer had even gotten a girlfriend. So, the simple country boy had been written off as a lucky insensitive. It hadn''t occurred to him that a person might seek something else to distract them from things they didn''t know how to understand, much less accept. It should have but that had been a stressful and dangerous time.


    Whatever Cray''s reason for being chosen as his debtor, it was forgiven because his silence about glamour was the first crime. Had he been just a little more trusting, the boy would have known, had proven that such a power was undesirable. He would take the trade off of not knowing what Cray''s shameful offense had truly been in return to write off the debt he believed he owed.


    His thoughts moved on to others, ones who he had personally reached through the boy to aid that hadn''t been in his young host to overly care about. The list was small. There was Lily, who the boy had bound. There were Avernus'' victims, among which, Duran had been the most moving after the boy had turned him into a bodyguard. It had been particularly hard to steer the boy to give Duran what was needed and even harder to keep the boy from giving up on the kid.


    Vivian was a particularly bittersweet reminder that he had no qualifications to want something for himself. Neal, a thorny symbol that even the best of intentions could bring suffering. The spiritual children, Oleander and Stag, proof that the boy could provide for his own. He was a scared recluse, happy to fade into a life larger than his own, larger than his could possibly ever be.


    Floating within whatever new stygian abyss reality had thrown him in, there was a small desire to fade away and that desire grew stronger by the moment. The one important thing he had accomplished also had removed the need for his presence. With White, Orison had his own compassion, the full and undamaged ability to love and form connections that a child''s cruel life had robbed from him.


    As he floated free, ever closer to a final and utter oblivion, a heavy weight settled around his fractured and rejected being. Voices, more than one, called to him. Alien power wrapped around him as laws unleashed crushing agony into his numb dissolution.


    A boy''s voice, as familiar to him now as his own said, "Now, do I seem that greedy to you, that ungrateful, old man?... Well, not so old anymore, practically brand new... Ha... If I''m being honest, this is just another way for me to be selfish but you''ll have to forgive me. I don''t want all these ties with fate holding me back.


    "You''re just going to have to eat these leftovers of mine and learn to like it. After all, you''re the one who loaded my plate and I''ll be damned if it''s going to go to waste... Confusing me into thinking I like Lily... Have fun chasing after an ancient hag, you nasty pervert.

 212 The Fool 17

    Feeling him moving around, the voice of Cray behind him said, half awake, "Broom knows where it''s going. Lemme catch some shut eye before we get there."


    Lulled by the sense of calm complacency the archer was projecting, he tried to organize his blurred thoughts and figure out exactly who he was. Turning inward, there was a space but it was very small. The only feature and content was a tiny dot of light in the middle. He didn''t feel strong enough to examine closely but he could make out that it was a ring shaped soul the size of a braces rubber band, the smallest one. It was undoubtedly his.


    Flashes of memories started ordering themselves around. "I''m Orison... Well, I suppose I always have been. The name on the boy''s adoption papers was a fabrication of the alien entity that the miasma came from based off the boy I was ''wanting'' to adopt for my character. I should have known that Orison Cantrip wasn''t a REAL Highlander family name. I mean, in theory it could be. Since Orison is Middle English filtered through French from Latin and Cantrip is Scottish... what a hell of a family backstory THEY would have!


    "God, even the way the boy originally looked was twisted to fit the orphan boy I''d made up in my head! It''s a miracle he didn''t hate me! No wonder we never had any luck figuring out anything about his past. Nub knew something but he wouldn''t tell us. I wonder if he was one of the vampires that went with Zoe.


    "... Looks like when they were putting this Humpty Dumpty''s soul back together again, they used Green''s as a reference. There''s still little bits of barely ''noticeable'' gold flecks here and there... What kind of crazy a** resurrection did I get!?"


    Over the next few hours, Orison continued to reconstruct his knowledge and understandings into something cohesive. The most terrifying discovery was that he only had Lock/Unlock, Find Objective and an innate healing ability for usable magic. Fortunately, the meditation technique that he had cobbled together in this world was still there along with a good portion of his magic theory and alchemy knowledge.


    There were a lot of things that he understood as a disembodied soul that were fading away too. He supposed that there was some law that limited or obscured a living person''s understanding of the ''great beyond''. With a decent respect for how complicated life had gotten with tidbits of that understanding, he could see why. How was a soul supposed to have novel experiences and grow with all that metaphysical crap occupying their thoughts and feelings?


    Except, he suddenly understood that it wasn''t a fresh start. There was a familiar yet still unexplored ''true name'' on his soul. He could feel elusive and undefinable ties with other souls, at least until his ''afterlife'' understandings finished fading away. ''The boy'' had figured out a way to walk out from underneath everything he didn''t want to deal with and threw it on the ''artist formally known as Al''. He had a brief flash of the boy even referring to himself as Aleph until they could find their ''real'' original name. In spite of forgiveness, they neither accepted nor appreciated what Al and an alien entity had twisted their form and identity into, leaving it for the newly minted Orison to ''enjoy''.


    While the young... mage?... decided what to do with himself, the broom started lowering to the ground next to and then INTO a tree dotted thicket. After that, Cray was forced to wake up or fall off. Getting thoroughly brushed and scratched by two fat bushes, they were coasting to a stop in front of a ball of darkness within the barely less dark, hollowed burrow.


    "What''s this?" Orison asked.


    Looking frustrated, Cray said, "I hoped you''d know since ya spit it out."


    He could tell the archer was getting agitated because his country accent was thickening. A sudden inspiration of what it could possibly be had the young mage approaching it cautiously instead of initiating a conversation with Cray that he desperately wanted to have. The very tip of his left pinky finger served as tester and possible sacrifice as it slid in and out with no resistance.


    After a few more timid tests, he walked in and the magical darkness receded to reveal a cabin barely discernible in the natural darkness of the sturdy and surprisingly large burrow. Not wasting anymore time, he reached into the front door to turn the lights on. Within the radius of the cabin''s magical field, the faint scent of animal musk and ancient decay became clean, odorless air.


    Turning, he noticed that Cray hadn''t followed because he couldn''t. The calm and easy look that the archer normally wore was quickly turning into worried panic as he pounded on an invisible field of kinetic force. No doubt, the man was still seeing nothing more than darkness still outside of it.


    With a mental word given to the cabin''s power source, he watched as the archer all but fell, stumbling towards him. With a startled realization, Orison recognized the last time he had looked at Cray from the same height advantage point. From the time he had first met the archer til his misadventure to the underwater miasma source, he had been relatively short and for a very specific, age related reason.


    "F***! I''ve been shrunk to pre-teen short fry again!?" Orison lamented as he made his way to the bathroom. Wavy sandy blonde hair flopped over slightly obscured, large and deceptively innocent looking aquamarine eyes that only a close examination would reveal to be heterochromatic. With thoughtless abandon, he stripped off the rags and checked himself all over, wanting to cry for more than one reason.


    Since he was already prepped for it, he jumped in the shower and took a couple of hot, steamy minutes to get his emotional feet under him again. Once he was out, Cray all but begged with watery eyes to have a turn, pushing their conversation off some more. While the archer was washing away some of his own troubles, Orison checked the self cleaning closet. At the bottom was two fancy books, a mirror and a triangle shaped item he didn''t immediately recognize the purpose of.


    Not completely ready to deal with that, he slid open a secret panel to reveal a biometric locked liquor cabinet. It stunned him to discover that the previous inhabitants had never found it because nothing was missing as far as the fuzzy memory Orison could tell. After taking a few out that he clearly remembered the effects of, he took the basket of items and put them in the cabinet, closing everything back up.


    Coming out wrapped in the towel, Cray looked and saw that the rags he''d been wearing were still dirty. "Uh, hope this don''t come across the wrong way but why aren''t they clean?"


    The young mage shrugged and said, "I don''t remember Presto but the closet there has it enchanted in. Since I was the one to put that one in this place, I should be able to reverse engineer the spell."


    Eyes wide, Cray looked around the cabin and said, "You made this!?"


    "Nope. I did help though," Orison said.


    A half minute of wandering observation later, Cray''s eyes focused on the bottles and glasses sitting on the table. "Please tell me some of that''s Grandpa''s sweet, sweet nerve medicine."


    Chuckling, the young mage said, "If you''re asking me if this stuff is booze, the answer is yes but it''s not just for fun and some of it can be scary if you don''t know what it does first... Let me ask you. Hypothetically, how old would you want to be before you stopped aging?...


    "Wait. Let''s come back to that. I''ve got two really important questions. What happened after I squeezed the last of my magic juice out? Oh, and where is Hunter and Cole?"


    The archer looked at the bottles like they were beautiful women as he said, "What happened? I''m not too clear on that muddy water myself. We found that bear cave and after that, I know that you turned into a crystal man when a big white light went off. That one came after a ''black light'' blocked the whole night sky from view for a skipped heart beat. I nearly needed a clean pair right then and there, let me tell you, but that''s when a broom and cellphone popped out of ya. That and a big black ball which turned out to be this fancy shack here.


    "I know that they came from where you put that circle in the dirt that put me and Cole back in working order again. I kinda remember Hunter saying that he bet there was some good loot and we could maybe fix you or some such. The last thing I remember good and proper, before waking in that holding cell, was Hunter and Cole going to check it out.


    "I don''t think we were there that long but I''m pretty sure some nasty dead buggers got their filthy paws on us and took a few sips off the top. It made things downright miserable confusing. I think one of the b*****ds watching us took a chunk or two off of ya while I was sleeping too. That''s it for that.


    "About Hunter and Cole, I was hoping you could maybe make sense of what I done saw. When we were taking our underground vacation, there was another of them big black flashes that made everything a glowing black. Not too terribly long after that, there was another big white flash that turned you into a right big hill of that crystal stuff.


    "If that doesn''t beat all, there was all this golden light coming down on you. Then, there you were, not looking a notch different than the first day I met you at the post, except maybe a smidgen younger. The crystal you was, poked a hole in the wall. And when I looked around, I didn''t see nobody.


    "I think it was a little dustier than when I came in but other than that, I just saw where they put the broom and I took us out of there. I knew it was special but how. That was when I saw Hunter and Cole running like the abyss itself was behind them. They had all kinds of bags and stuff on them and there were all sorts of dead things chasing them but both of them were laughing like they were a sandwich shy of a picnic.


    "When Hunter looked over, he pulled out a scroll as he kept running from the dead slowpokes behind him. After using it, there was a tingle in my hand that was holding the broom and then he asked what I was waiting for. He told me to fly away with you before they teleported. So, that''s what I did. Well, it did after I told it to take us back to where it popped out of you.


    "Now, don''t look at me like that. I messed with it a bit first to make sure it knew what it was doing before I let it take lead. It''s kinda like my pa''s horse. Tavern keeper just poured my old man into the saddle and he''d bring ''em back home where Ma would beat the tar outta him... My pa, not the horse. Ma loved the horse."


    Orison shook his head and said, "Best sense I can make out of all of that until we can speak to Hunter and Cole directly is that the undead that found my circle, played with it. I don''t know if what happened to me was because I was tied to it or if the world will has some kind of retribution law."


    A tickling sensation came over Orison for a moment as he felt a few more particles of his soul core stick and fuse into place, carrying a little more information with it that would take time to trickle down to his mind. A vision of his astral plane fairy friends flashed in his mind''s eye before fading away along with the last few bits of gold in his soul''s space. With a tiring working of will, he called them out.


    Cray tensed until he saw who it was and made no comment as the ''knight'' spoke. "That''s all that we could find. The reward of spirit gold that you paid us for retrieving it proved to be quite useful. Never a more gracious master have I served."


    Not wanting to ruin whatever misconception the knight was under, Orison replied. "You''ve retrieved enough that any more would just be a bonus. Thanks for all the hard work."


    The witch frowned. "Thanks are not required and ring of falsehood. Your generosity makes for the best display of gratitude. It would sooth me to n ''er hear such a platitude again."


    The knight added, "I would beg your understanding and indulgence but there is something about the phrase that is akin to burrs in the undergarments."


    The young mage blankly stared at them for a moment and said, "Duly noted."


    Once he got a good idea of how long they could stay out to scout around, he released them to look for Hunter and Cole. Not too long afterwards, there was an unholy screech that sounded like a demonic toddler with the world''s largest megaphone. His astral friends retreated to their home with core deep fear as the young mage fired up the protection surrounding the cabin.


    The ground shook and buckled. A wave of darkness, more felt than seen, was followed by a wave of light that would have blinded were they outside. A third, godlike wave of invisible essence unleashed in the distance as the blanket of magic across the land bunched and smoothed out with tears in it that minutely began repairing by the vestiges of mend and healing magics in the air. Vital water, then inert essence and finally condensed eternium chunks the size of baseballs appeared in Orison''s space, threatening to rip him apart.


    Sounds of tinkling broken glass could be heard only by the young mage. First, it pulled from behind the the cabin to the front. Then, the sounds bombarded the front as a vicious ripple of disjointed magical energy rolled over them. Were it not for the fractured and nullified shell of the frame of ''time'' around the cabin taking the brunt, their little cabin would have been stripped and sundered of every magical property it had.


    Fearing more of the same, Orison dove for the secret compartment, pouring over its treasures for benefits before something came along and destroyed them. In short order, he discovered that the fancy book was some kind of tome that boosted physical stats before disappearing. Being that the second one was the same, Orison doubted that they stacked. So, he opened it as he shoved it towards Cray''s face. The archer blanched and tried to back away reflexively from the move until he realized it had added to him in ways hard to fully describe.


    The mirror was a dud. Moving on, he found that the triangle was some kind of storage device he could see how to get in but figured it would be safer to wait until he could make sure what happened, wouldn''t happen again. It was ridiculously stable feeling and sturdy for an extra dimensional item. So, he stored it in his space.


    He was about to do the same for the rest of the bottles before some faint echo in the back of his mind made him fear putting too much trust in the reliability of his space. Frantically, the young mage tore through the cabin looking for possibly immediately useful items and after finding nothing but a few bags of gems and gold coins that he stored into the hidden cabinet, he closed the secret compartment. Cray, who had been watching Orison with peripheral vision, tore his eyes away from the window long enough to ask if he needed help before returning to his vigil.


    The young mage said, "No, I''m good. I hope those two are okay. That... looked rough."


    Cray picked up his and Orison''s bundle of rags, grimacing as he wrapped both around him and said, "I''m going out to take a gander. I won''t rest easy thinking they could be nearby and hurt when we could have helped... I won''t go far. Don''t start drinking without me!"


    As the archer slipped out, Orison muttered, "I swear to Bob, I hope they''re alright but I hope they''ve brought some decent stuff to wear... Well, there''s always the bedding. I''ll be damned if I''m going to make clothes out of dead leaves and tree bark just to go fur hunting in the outskirts of a forest with goblin kin. Sounds like the bad ending to a game I''d never want play. Hell, I''d probably burn the PC or console it was downloaded on."


    In the distance, the demon baby megaphone released one last agonized and agonizing to hear wail before the young mage''s space was deluged with more essence than it could contain. The strange gold essence began pouring in, trapping Orison in a loop of being ripped apart and stitched back together. He desperately desired to pass out again but couldn''t.

 213 The Fool 18

    Like senseless lambs wading through tall grass by a cliff''s edge, they fussed over him while he was on the verge of turning into a nuclear bomb. He managed to somehow communicate his ''too much everything'' state and Cray volunteered to take some of whatever that ''everything'' was. The archer had did so out of concern but Hunter and Cole had a friendly yet opportunistic gleam in their eyes.


    It didn''t matter why. As Cray opened the spiritual channel between them, Hunter sent out a feeble thread of intent and Cole lined up his heart point with Orison the way Hunter suggested; an outpouring of excess flowed to its destination of greatest attraction. In the momentary laps of pressure, the young mage looked inward to see what was going where.


    Following the physical and spiritual pattern already established, the young mage saw his past physical progression take shape but without the influence of conflicting spiritual bloodlines. Within the space, as his slightly clearer memory recalled from times before, soul and void expanded as it matured, taking in the materials available to do so. Despite the overwhelming rush of growth that should have obliterated him many times over, the budding growth of delicate latticework unfurled and spread out, sipping up what was usable to him. With pure sources and friends acting as flood irrigation, it had no dangers to face as it completed it complex routes of connection.


    Dense spiritual essence pushed against the mysterious hollow point of his soul ring, piercing through and establishing connection with the stormy borders of creation. The sudden influx of potent chaotic creation far from added to the burden. His space began expanding at snails pace, the outer edges blurring and filling with alien geometries. A second, calm layer sprang into existence. Like a volcano, it erupted under the spilling of formed material unsuitable for the first layer''s building maelstrom, out into the infinite nothing.


    From that point, an opposite scenario occurred for a few eternal seconds. He desperately fought to keep the ''nothing'' from pulling him inside out as some natural osmotic law tried to move all the ''somethings'' to diffuse into the unfathomable void. With frantic effort, he encouraged the emerging maelstrom of the first layer to spin and roil, to produce the funneling counter force required to keep everything in.


    No sooner did the young mage think the danger had passed, the triangular object burst. Most of the objects within it were instantly destroyed by the violent expulsion before the surviving things were pulled to the second layer. It wasn''t a total loss, however. Unlike the original space that absorbed the nebulous concepts of what it consumed while giving little to its host, the new space was a natural extension of himself. He wasn''t strong enough to absorb whatever the nebulous concepts were that felt much like the ''colors'' produced by the key but they were there waiting for when he could, subdued and laid dormant.


    He wanted to explore that further but a box on the second layer disintegrated, revealing a collection of mini trainers that looked much more complex and fragile. He blanked as they activated all at once, intimately connected with the newborn portion of his spiritual self. Working on nearly instinct alone, he shunted the overwhelming influx of knowledge and experiences contained within to where it seemed naturally fit to send them.


    There was no choice but to let most of it go. Despite four minds and souls to take it in, they were simply unable to bear more than a fraction apiece. There was one good thing to come of that, however. Hidden within was some kind of compulsion, a mental and spiritual conditioning to dedicate one''s existence to the First Family. It was the very first thing to be discarded along with reliance on crystal sparks and the operating systems that ran them.


    Despite sharing between a group and the rapidly dwindling golden essence maintaining wholesome existence, all of their lives were in danger. Whether spiritual rupture, seizures and brain hemorrhages or a plethora of other complications, there just wasn''t enough time to adjust. Clutching around him in desperation, Orison''s hand found a bottle of Long A** Night and forced some down everyone''s throats. Again and again he did so until the four bottles he had were gone.


    Fighting against the sleep such a thing should provide, he kept blindly reaching and pouring until darkness claimed him. Even within the deep trance sleep, soul and spiritual consciousness kept executing orders like zombie soldiers, knowing nothing of the joys and pleasures brought by temporary oblivion. Utterly taxed to the limit and beyond, from scalp to soul core, it was unsurprising that he was the last one to recover to full conscious wakefulness.


    That didn''t mean there weren''t other, less sensible, waking moments. Figments ran through his groggy mind and provided clarity by a relentlessly eidetic spiritual memory. He could somewhat control that but saw no reason to run from the surprisingly mild aversion to what he recalled.


    He remembered the childlike revelry with his companions, admiring their improved features and glorious ''youthful maturity'' while their logical minds were on downtime. He remembered breaking out more to drink but thankfully only the ''super'' vodka. He remembered taking out the ''glasses cases'' lined with black marbles in his calm space and slurring out ''warranty!''


    Mutual shock at coming face to face with Lily again stood out vividly. Still hopped up on essence and drunken revelry, he hugged her and expressed from the bottom of his heart how happy he was to see her well, completely uncaring about his or anyone else''s state of exposure. If a little subdued, she returned those sentiments and felt relieved at seeing so many of the accursed faulty TSSRR suits in one place.


    Things became fuzzy for awhile after that but he remembered how she spilled her woes over her father''s mistakes and the deep ''karma'' debt she had taken upon herself with ''The Company''. He remembered putting ''the kids'' to bed. And Cray, who had hit a second wind, joined him and Lily in further indulgent revelries.


    A haze of frizzy red hair, the scent of sweet incense mingling with a faint one of smokehouse wood and other, earthier fragrances stimulated his senses. Soft skin and rough hands led to momentary awkward confusion, a little pain and a lot of pleasure. In the moment and under the influence, there was little hesitation, only surprises and new experiences.


    In a clearer moment before exhaustion claimed him once more, Cray fallen out far before, Lily had cried. When he asked what was wrong, fearing that she was ashamed or regretful, he had been proven right but not for the reasons he had thought. Despite her appearance, she really had been quite old, approaching the end of the maximum life span allowed for her kind by reality. Orison and the half asleep Cray dismissed her shame but shared her regret.


    With her debt of karma cleared enough to allow it, she planned on returning home to rebirth as phoenixes do, even those with other fiery bloodlines. She didn''t know if she would remember him but she imprinted his, and to mixed feelings, Cray''s spiritual signatures. With the message of promises to return to their side, no matter her form or theirs, no matter how long it may be, she roused them both and staked an emotional claim.


    Shaking the cobwebs loose, Orison went to the bathroom to clean up and walked in on Cole and Hunter taking matters into their own hands while watching a tablet-like screen showing material he never thought to see in what he believed was a medieval fantasy world. All parties startled and apologetic, Hunter quickly explained that the ''viewer'' was a gift from Lily to ''keep two healthy young men from going strange with no one else around to court''.


    Orison sighed and said, "Well, it might be from magic brews and trainer granted memories but you two should theoretically be emotionally and physically mature enough to make such decisions for yourselves. If you ask me though, the two of you are plenty strange already. Maybe not in the way she meant but..."


    In a sudden intense bout of defensiveness that rivaled his father, despite bearing an uncanny resemblance to Devon, Hunter said, "Oh, and what you were about yesterday was normal!? Don''t you dare-"


    Orison smiled and raised his hands in surrender. "Whoa, whoa. I tease as a friend. I''m not making accusations. Besides, I''m not human. Not anymore, at least."


    Warily, Cole said, "What ARE you, anyway?"


    Hunter added, calming down but still agitated, "Yeah, if anyone around here is ''strange'', it''s you."


    The young mage said, "I''m an outsider of the alien outer realm kind, kid tested and mother approved to be in structured reality. Compared to my wild cousins, I''m about as vanilla as it gets."


    The budding wizard said, "How does that work? A couple weeks ago, you were just a mysterious human warlock named Al."


    In utter confusion, the young feline man said, "What in Osomo is the alien outer realm?"


    Orison chuckled and said, "Have Hunter explain Lovecraft mythos to you... Even before I became what I am now, my soul had a lot of mileage for as bland and unenlightened as it was. That aside, I played host to another soul that I voluntarily allowed to eat me away. I passively participated in absorbing larval outer god essence. I also rode around with the other soul, eating dead baby Great Old One and ''mad god'' variety Old One flesh.


    "Add to that, I pretty much exploded the core of my being to push my guest back into structured reality, a story that makes even less sense the more I explain. The finisher is that I briefly merged with a reincarnation of my one time spiritual hitchhiker that had a special type of soul mine is now modeled after. Probably still as clear as mud to you and, I assure you, me both."


    Hunter looked Orison over appraisingly and said, "You look human to me. Can you sprout tentacles or something?"


    The young mage suppressed a sigh and said, "I''m going to demonstrate once and only once, since there''s only two emergency fixes for what I''m about to do if I can''t fix it myself... Cole, when I go fuzzy edged, touch me... with your left hand, if you don''t mind. Unfortunately, the image of where the right one''s been is acid etched into my brain."


    He closed his eyes and focused on letting go of his physical pattern after making sure it was memorized. It didn''t feel pleasant and it all but wiped out his magic reserves in one shot but he managed to do it without damaging anything. Focusing back outward, he saw a spirit sight version of Hunter and Cole look at each other before they both madly scrambled to touch him first.


    It was no contest. Cat-like speed and reflexes wasn''t just a metaphor for Cole. The feline young man easily was the first to reach Orison and he even managed to remember using the ''sinless'' hand to do it. The young mage wasn''t fond of the placement of that hand on the suddenly top heavy feature he possessed and had to narrow his eyes in warning to get Cole to remove it.


    In curiosity, he looked into the mirror and had to admit that Cole had some nice, if slightly exotic, taste. Shockingly white hair on caramel skin. She was a cold beauty painted in warm colors by nature''s brush. The only thing recognizable was the eyes. It seemed that no matter what form he wore, they would always remain the heterochromatic blue/green that looked like Caribbean water from a short or further distance away.


    In the mirror, Orison caught Cole staring at another prominent feature behind him as the feline young man swallowed loudly in the silence and said, "How long are you going to be like this?"


    Orison shrugged and grabbed a large towel off the rack. "I have to wait for my magic to refill and my instinct to say it''s safe. Longer than a couple of days and I''m going to use something else. It''s only been a couple of minutes and I can already tell that Sammy made the right call luring the girls away. Especially since they had tag along men of their own already.


    "I''d like to believe that we''re all nice and respectable people but it''s best not to push temptation right under someone''s nose for a few deprived months. People can have weak moments. And after you cross some lines, it becomes all too easy to cross them a second time. People rarely become monsters overnight. It''s a gradual slide of compromises with the darkness inside that can take a long time."


    As Orison went to check up on Cray who was outside, Cole said behind him in a dry voice, "Could you maybe-"


    "Nope. Don''t p*ss me off by finishing that or any other requests related to my little experiment in the usefulness and limitations of my new existence," he said without stopping.


    Seeing Hunter''s cool but curious expression that was almost identical to his own when he looked in the mirror, Orison wondered what he would have looked like if he had chosen the budding wizard instead. For a moment, he received a dim flash of himself mostly needing to accept default appearance to finish transforming. Apparently the poor guy didn''t know what he wanted, had a completely different way of perceiving desire or wanted so many different things that it was open to personal interpretation.


    For a split second, the shadowy outline of a light eating, reality cutout key wavered in his vision. It was weak and unstable but made its appearance so that its owner was aware of it. Picking up on his curiosity, it showed him a brief flash of Cray''s version as well before going dormant inside of him, worn out. The revelation made him feel embarrassed and would have likely made Lily mad should she know.


    He thought, "The ''What might have been'' key. No, Entanglement Key. It works off a quantum field theory idea. When its stronger, its going to be capable of some real interesting things I think."


    Brain cells firing a little differently in his new temporary form, he suddenly remembered something. "Hunter, after I''m done catching up with Cray, we need to have a powwow. Lets help each other fill in the blanks."


    As if someone had given him a Christmas present, the budding wizard agreed eagerly. Misinterpreting that eagerness, Cole gave Hunter a small flash of irritated jealousy before it quickly disappeared. Orison was more convinced than ever in Sammy''s call.


    Stepping onto the front porch, Orison saw Cray sifting through the wheelbarrow full of junk with cracked gems and broken enchantments on them. The blank look on the archer''s face spoke of complex thoughts that were outside of things he was able to easily process. When the man looked up, he was stunned.


    "Orison? When did- How did... Who touched you?" Cray said, visibly trying to stuff the confusion and a touch of illogical anger away.


    The young mage explained his experiment.


    Displaying a little of his own jealousy, Cray said, "Should of let me do it."


    Orison sighed. "There''s only one large bed and two bunks. Cole is a light sleeper and Hunter''s curiosity isn''t constrained to just academics. Don''t you think it would be a little mean spirited to take the form of your... preferences and then have you share sleeping arraignments with it, knowing full well nothing''s going to happen because I don''t WANT anything to happen."


    The archer, having difficulties with nature and instinct''s insistence to ogle Orison''s towel wrapped assets, looked towards the burrow''s entrance and said, "Guess we got plenty of time to pull all the knots out of things. But you gotta admit, if you stayed as a gilly, it would make problems a lot easier."


    The young mage laughed angrily before he pushed it back down and said, "Easier for you. I happen to like being a man and like the things men typically like. I''m a lot more open minded on some things but that''s not one of them. Besides, if you''re thinking you can throw that at me because I have a choice, I can introduce you to a small bottle that''ll let YOU choose to be a woman since you think it''s a tidy solution. How does that sound?"

 214 The Fool 19

    As if a light bulb went off in the archer''s head, he simply said, "Oh... Well, Ma always said that a man with two women in his house would never know peace, no matter what he thought he could handle. No fooling, that sounds like a problem I''d WANT to solve. Sure would beat this fine mess. How does a woman up and decide she wants two men anyhow? Don''t make no damn sense."


    Orison sighed and said, "I''m thinking she did it for us. I''m certain it helped that she was fond of us both but do you understand what it means, the soul marks we have? It''s more than just a convenience that lets us find each other easy or share essence and stuff. When... if we die, our souls will be drawn to each other. Certain effects will be shared between us and our supernatural comprehensions will subtly align with one another to remain compatible."


    "Lily''s probably a lot more knowledgeable on the subject than me but even I know that souls naturally entangle like that. Everybody knows the tired trope of lovers bound by fate but the bonds between mother and child, siblings, even best friends can sometimes connect on that level. I think she was preparing for the issues such a situation can raise and took a mark from both of us to help her resolve or accept them when we meet again.


    "That''s just my take on it, though. She might have had purely selfish reasons for doing it but it doesn''t bother me as much as I thought such a thing would. Everyone''s entitled to pursue their own happiness. It''s not like she''s forcing anything on us. We''re even free to pursue our own love and pleasures until the day of our reunion. Although, I have no doubt she''d be hurt if we collected a gaggle of girls with soul marks like ours.


    Orison stopped talking to see if Cray had anything to add but the archer just kept staring towards the burrow entrance. He wondered if the archer was thinking hard thoughts, considering running away or in desperate need of some prune juice.


    The young mage cleared his throat to get Crays attention and added with as much compassion and understanding as he could. "The most important point is that our marks don''t have to define our relationship with each other. I like you. I think I could build the best friend relationship with you that ''the boy'' wanted but couldn''t have with Gan.


    "Things are strange and too much happened all at once. I did what I did to save your life because the Cray I know is a buddy worth putting my neck out for. I don''t want you to be unhappy and I''m willing to take responsibility for my choices."


    Red faced, Cray said, "That''s, uh, nice and all. But if best buds is what you''re aiming for, do you think we could finish this when you look like good ole Orison? Ain''t no gilly ever said that to me and my poor aching head ain''t thinking about cracking a bottle of home brew and talking about life with you right about now."


    Bitterly, Cray said, "She talked about love and such. She said we was like them folks in her stories but she never said it to me. She only ever told me I was sweet and when she sent me packing that second time, she said being sweet weren''t enough. She told me I was plain, a little stupid and kinda boring."


    Thinking all kinds of unpleasant thoughts about a girl who probably wasn''t mentally mature enough to know better, the young mage said, "I know she was almost double your age but for an elf, that''s really young. She was just a dumb girl who didn''t know the good thing she had. Believe me. She''ll regret those words fiercely later.


    "Any woman would be lucky to have you. And whoever wins your heart the next time, if she isn''t stupid, she better give as good as she gets. You don''t deserve a single bit less. Lily didn''t know you for much more than a day and she understood that-"


    Blushing so hard, his ears were nearly purple, Cray cut him off to bellow, "Cole, I got us some gear together. We need to get some hunting done while the weather''s good."


    Patently avoiding Orison, the archer finished putting his gear and the rags underneath to a working order and helped Cole suit up with record speed. When the feline young man looked back at Orison wistfully, Cray scowled and told him to ''get the lead out''. Watching them getting ready to face unknown dangers outside, something occurred to the young mage.


    Quickly looking around the cabin, Orison wondered where Lily stashed the replacement teaser suits. Desperately combing through his memories, he ended up checking their standard cupboard which had a few stacks of extra ration bars that weren''t there before along with some other essential items that would make their wintering over not so horrid. With the suits on his mind, a recollection of how they worked passed through his head.


    Luckily, the towel was barely fixed on. So, instead of ripping, it was simply flung off as a suit popped into being around him. As it adjusted to the new form its owner was wearing, he ran outside shouting to see that Cole was already wearing one. The feline young man seemed to be explaining something while the archer was checking out how he felt about the one he was wearing for the first time.


    Upon hearing the smoky voice calling out their names, they looked back and froze. Orison looked down once again to discover that wearing the teaser suit with his new form was almost as bad, possibly worse in some ways, to being naked. Pulling the fluttering open front robe that came as part of the ''caster'' model tightly around himself, he apologized for the interruption. Cray seemed even more in a hurry to get going.


    Finding it more humorous than anything else, Orison muttered, "Aren''t you a little too old to be acting that way over a couple of compliments?"


    Hunter who had been watching the whole play from the sideline since before the young mage''s conversation with Cray was even finished, said, "Are you simple? You practically said everything a ''nice guy'' would want to hear a pretty woman say except ''f*** me!'' What was he supposed to do with all of that except run away, you freaky ''trap''."


    With a stony face, Orison replied, "First, as a fellow intellectual, let me acknowledge that you have a point. Secondly, if at least another few hours doesn''t go by before you throw another casual insult at me, Harry Putter, I''m going to take your wand and beat you with it like it was still the paddle it came from."


    Hunter looked at him with a stunned expression of his own before taking on a little heat in the face himself.


    Quickly, the budding wizard activated his suit and turned to walk into the cabin. "We have things to catch up on? Let''s get to it."


    As they sat down and discussed over a hot tea, the young mage learned that the undead had found his ritual circle and had experimented with it. When one of their own was sacrificed, it caused a chain reaction draw that pulled the negative energy from the air around it as well as the other undead nearby except for the controller and the receiver in the middle. ''Undying'' crystal created from the one in the center was used on a nearby survivor in the same manner Orison''s original use of the circle had been, bringing that one to a state of not quite living but not quite dead.


    The ritual circle was affected by the excess mends and ''materials'' becoming a more refined and stronger version. It was carted to someone''s keep, which Hunter and Cray followed. After a second, far more powerful round, other undead from surrounding holds came to investigate. That caused a struggle to break out between factions, with the winning faction carting the even more refined circle further in. During that time, Cray and the crystallized Orison had been found and carted off as well. A couple days later, while Hunter and Cole were ''trying to find them'', the third use happened. It had been terrifyingly powerful and what had turned Orison into a big hill of undying crystal from the person sized one the second use had turned him into. The half-lifers were fighting with the remaining undead which Hunter didn''t know much about but the outcome was something Orison somewhat understood.


    Win or lose, the circle was used again but on the big bad as sacrifice. It took two times to take the thing down but in between, the creature tried to use its trump card magic item destroying magic to end the circle that had become something of an artifact. All it really managed to do was destroy all magic items but the circle. The last usage of it not only destroyed the creature but also destroyed the circle. The resulting explosion left a crater big enough for the fleeing Hunter and Cole to see miles away.


    The budding wizard, just shy of sobbing said, "All that danger and work just for the giant undead baby thing to break all our loot. I wish that thing would c-"


    Orison slapped his hand over Hunter''s mouth and said, "Are you crazy!? Watch it with the ''W'' word from now on."


    The budding wizard slowly nodded and then said, "Now what''s with the things on your end?"


    Orison gave him a quick breakdown of what happened up til they came back to see him curled up on the floor.


    The young mage then added, "So, yeah. I was assaulted by runoff life essence from the ritual circle every time it was ran by negative energy. Best I can figure, I was still tied to it and it used my magic to activate the healing portion because this world certainly doesn''t seem to accept it.


    "As far as the rest, it started off with just passing off some essence but things left behind in the cabin by your wish and deck of cards stuff, had some surprises in it. One of those surprises was a storage crate of something called mini trainers left behind in a piece Osomo sent as a ''debtor'' to the one I call White Orison. Since White and Green Orison were inside of me but spiritually alive, their debtors also appeared inside.


    "Thankfully for us, the cabin''s life preservation field failed at some point, killing Green''s debtor. I highly doubt that man accepted for any other reason than to escape some hell his soul rightfully belongs in... Osomo''s spiritual proxy found a legitimate way to ''kill'' itself to keep from giving me secrets belonging to the First Family.


    "Its originator even slipped in a way to make us the First Family''s brainwashed soldier boys. Lucky us, we kind of took that knowledge and experience in all at once and that stuff got junked. To be honest, we didn''t even get a third total but we got the most useful concepts and theory out of it anyway."


    Hunter asked, "I know we all got a party mix of stuff but what were the core parts?"


    Trying to couch it in ways the young wizard could understand, he said, "Too mixed to be anything specific, per say. We split up most of the magic theory between us but even that''s under-generalizing. You got the bigger portion of flashy, destructive stuff and I got the lion''s share of utility.


    "I have a deep loathing for illusion and mind control. So, all the mental stuff went out the window for the most part except were it bordered wards, ritual magic and meditation. The parts of illusion that help with maximizing elemental effects went to you while I kept a bit of the stuff that helps get more mileage out of conjuration effects."


    Hunter smiled wide. "I got the light and sound, you took the shadowy stuff to fluff up your creations."


    Orison nodded. "That sounds about right... Anyway, For you and me, physical combat stuff was tiny gap fillers between the cracks of magic and magic related crafting skills but it''s about half of what Cray got and a third of what went to Cole. Our feline friend loves him some skills. It made up half of what he took but around a third for Cray... like opposites of the same coin.


    "Where they really differ is their crack fillers. Cray took some druid and shamanistic stuff while Cole took in a surprising amount of the mystic middle ground necromancy and healing. The full blown faith stuff got chopped and tossed to our fairy buddies along with some combat and magic scraps. What has me curious and a little spooked was that I felt good portions of stuff get taken in elsewhere nearby as I had to let it go.


    "I make it kind of sound like I had it on lock down but it was more like holding a handful of color coded garden hoses. Once the flood filled up my personal river mill reservoir, I just pointed them at the matching souls and let it rain! To be honest, most of what I think people got is educated guesswork past the big stuff."


    Hunter sighed. "I get it. It''s a lot more valuable to know how to make a coat than to just be given one. But man, it''s freezing and we don''t have the stuff to make them. Later on, I''ll probably be crying tears of joy it turned out this way but right now..."


    Orison raised a well shaped brow. "What makes you think we don''t have the stuff to make a spell... Or a coat for that matter? There''s a huge grimoire laying in our front yard. Not to mention, there''s tons of materials for crafting too. We just have to take the time to salvage and recycle. Think of it as reducing our carbon footprint and practicing living green."


    Confused, Hunter said, "How do you mean? All that junk out there has its magic stripped and materials that''s been used in one enchantment can''t be used for magic again."


    The young mage chuckled. "To learn from them, they don''t need to be magical. It''ll actually be easier since they''re not. The rest is jigsaw work and reverse engineering. As far as fixing the material to its original state, enchantments aside, we have a closet over there that I''d like to test the limitations of too. We got months.


    "Let me go check our source power for the cabin, though. I rather like having magically provided hot water and a comfortable air temperature. We''ll see how much play room we have before we need to start conserving."


    It was a strange thing but he had never really been able to ''see'' the compartment under the Cabin where the condensed eternium could be dropped in. he only ever knew when it needed more source when the old amount started running out right around the point when it wouldn''t be enough to do the day rewind trick. The cabin not being able to do that any longer wasn''t a bad thing. It was much more energy efficient than it had been.


    Reaching the back of the cabin, he dug around under the lip until he could feel the release catch, after pressing it, a deep and wide tray popped out minutely enough to grab and manually pull. It didn''t slide easily and Orison had to strain a bit to get it moving, nearly falling on his backside once it did. Once opened, he understood why it was such a problem. It was filled with dry mud.


    It occurred to him that the cabin''s previous ability to rewind time may have had other features such as pulling in nearby sources or other such things. It no longer mattered but the consequence of such a thing was a clogged mess that took some time to clean up. The chore brought a few unpleasant surprises along with some he didn''t really know what to think of as well.


    The occasional pieces of core gradually shifted to chunks of mummified body parts covered in withered tumors. Moving from the center to the back recesses, the mud returned to a moist state that was usable after a good distilling to eradicate whatever unsafe microbes might be dwelling within. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when two wild women sprang out only to leave uniforms and equipment behind as they turned incorporeal and homed in on the southern planes where the undead empire once stood.


    At first he thought that perhaps they were souls in desperate need of negative energy to maintain their existence but that was rubbish. If they had been undead, they would have quickly perished under the presence of life essence in a state of purity far beyond their ability to digest. Looking at the uniforms and seeing the Rogers name sewed on them, he clearly understood what he had seen.


    Looking up, he saw that Hunter was readying a precious fire shot from his remaining prepared spells and shouted, "Don''t! They''re rusalka! As long as we''re nice, they''ll be nice!... They''re probably headed over to that crater you were talking about earlier. It''ll take a little time but it will become a lake they''ll pretty up, transforming plants into magical ingredients for future generations. Circle of life and all that jazz."

 215 The Fool 20

    Orison said a little sadly, "There''s a possibility that they were completely alive and savable but after drowning in the mud, their supernatural nature saved them to become what their family had once came from. All I can say for sure is that they are something in between a dead spirit and a living fey spirit. I don''t know if that''s how they''re supposed to be or if that''s how they are because of how they came to be."


    Returning to cleaning out the tray, at the very back with cores stacked neatly around it, he found a man in the undying state. It seemed that the rusalki had been trapped but not unoccupied. Perhaps it was because they felt some familial connection with the man or perhaps some vestige of their human life remained but they had carefully kept the man in a balance between ''undying'' and not crystallizing.


    After asking Hunter to move the equipment to the closet, Orison carefully removed the man from the back of the tray and made sure his mouth and esophagus were cleared of obstructions. Setting the man aside for a moment, the young mage quickly finished cleaning the tray, collecting the useful mud and replacing what completely crystal cores he had found with a couple of condensed eternium motes from his space.


    Before returning his attention to the man, he rechecked his space. There were small remaining collections of inert, life and condensed eternium crystals but most of the bulk had been either absorbed by the somewhat larger calm space or fallen to the chaotic layer below. When he went to take a look, he realized he couldn''t look in. His own inner instinct moved to block him and he understood that until he grew strong, such a thing was possibly quite dangerous to the mortal mind and body he wore.


    Under Hunter''s amused observations, the young mage stripped, cleaned and tossed the man onto Hunter''s bunk. While busy doing so, he thought about the nature of his space, what it needed to grow and how much he could trust it. Too many times, whether old or new, it had given him unpleasant to rather nasty surprises. It also could protect things from unwanted outside influence while still accepting desirable ones.


    He felt that he could grow to trust the space that was an organic part of himself. With time, growth and practice, he believed he could stop it from devouring things he wanted to keep, even if the space sensed their usefulness to itself. Glaring exceptions, for the moment, were things that possessed natural laws. The trifecta of life, inert and soul essences that could help it grow faster in the right amounts at the right time were things that he needed to monitor closely.


    Orison was pulled from inner reflection by some harsh coughing and a request for water. Unsurprisingly, released from the healing mud''s hold, the man came to. The unknown Rogers man looked around in shocked delirium.


    "Nurse, my son. Is he doing alright? Did Yagna name him Garret?" the man asked after learning that he''d been in a ''suspended state'' for quite a long time.


    Pleasantly surprised, the young mage said, "You''re Garret and Gurrut''s dad? But you were supposed to have died in a fort medical room."


    Poleaxed by finding out that he was the father of two but not so much to be unable to put the pieces together, he processed that whiled he said, "We were on a classified exploration. All of us made medical room wills BEFORE the mission. Tell me, how is my sis-"


    The man stopped talking as he curled up in pain. Under Orison''s spirit sight, dozens of spiritual remnants and soul cores stirred to activity in the man''s spiritual seat. As the young mage watched, the edges of the man began to disintegrate right before a strong green bubbling of magical energy began building at the man''s center.


    Orison told Hunter to remain inside as he picked up the man and ran him out of the cabin''s barrier. Souls began slipping out of the disintegrating man while the young mage moved desperately to get him out of the burrow before the reincarnation ''bomb'' went off. He almost dropped the man when he snapped back into his original form painfully. Trying to understand why that happened, he dropped the man on the ground outside and headed back in double-time when he heard the roar of some creature followed by a few more answering roars.


    Stumbling past the barrier, the young mage fell weakly to the ground, once again down to fumes in his magic reserve and with some lifespan damage. Hunter came to check on him when they both froze from a feeling of sadness. Through the marks, they could tell that Cole and Cray were no longer alive.


    Numbly, Orison lay on the ground staring at the burrow''s root speckled ceiling as a brilliant green flash detonated outside. More than angry or sad, he just felt confused. His life and those lives around him felt aimless and without purpose. The insanity and chaos of their brief spurt interactions seemed to be connected to something greater but accomplished very little in and of themselves. A dim echo of spiritual understanding remaining inside hinted at meaning but offered no answers to the existential crisis Orison was having.


    Moments later, as if it had been a cosmic joke said in poor taste, he felt Cray''s spiritual connection pulse with renewed life. Through it, a small amount of excess essence generated by Gate of Reincarnation''s pulse was shunted down the line and neutralized by the unviewable layer of Orison''s space. While Hunter burst out in a relieved exclamation, the young mage wept at the senselessness of it all.


    Under Hunter''s disbelieving eyes, Orison deactivated the ill fitting suit so that it could reform properly later. "Shouldn''t we be going out there to help them?"


    While taking a couple of bites of ration bar left by Lily, the young mage said, "It''ll be chaos out there. I''m tapped out and you only have a scrap of prepared spells left. We''d only add to their burdens if we did. But if you don''t believe me, do what you want. I need to sleep."


    Laying down, Orison pulled the majority of the blanket to him and did exactly what he said he was going to do. In what didn''t feel like much later, he felt weight settle onto the bed and felt a familiar presence that didn''t ring any alarms. He was drifting back off but the other person tried to wrestle some of the blanket for themselves. Orison wasn''t having it, clinging with childish grudge until they gave up with a chuckle.


    In the middle of the night, he got up and reactivated his suit after answering the call of nature. Relieved of things that would keep him from returning to restful oblivion, he considered doing so until he felt that something was terribly wrong. Unable to pinpoint what that at first, he glanced around. It wasn''t the presence of something that had set him off, it was the absence.


    Cole and Hunter were gone. Quickly checking the cabinets and closet, he found them mostly cleaned out. On the table was a note but he didn''t read it until he had finished checking everywhere else things were stored. It turned out, that under the bed was another hidden cabinet that he hadn''t even been aware of.


    Inside that cabinet were three bags of coins and three bags of gems Orison vaguely remembered pelting him on the stairs along with other things that could be considered ''riches''. The cabin was a neat and orderly creation and if it hadn''t been for the wild partying a couple of days ago, the panel that hid the cabinet wouldn''t have been partially slid open. Once the old business was finished, he made a mental note to check the cabin out for other features that might still be hidden.


    Turning to the note, he read, "You are a cruel and selfish man. I and my companion shall take our rightful share of belongings and be on our way."


    Cray woke up to the sound of hysterical laughter.


    "This wouldn''t trick a f***ing child!" the young mage said as he exercised Find Objective, tracking two thin blue essence trails to not that far away from the burrow''s entrance.


    Stepping to the edge of the cabin''s barrier, Orison disabled the feature that kept noise in and shouted, "Give them back to me, along with our possessions, and we can talk or I can hunt you down and chew through your half dead heart. I''ll save what little remains of your soul for desert!... Think I''m bluffing, Ms ''I think I can hide in trees well''?"


    A shadowy figure separated from the darkness within the tree branches. Hunter and Cole approached with sharp kitchen utensils pointed at their necks. A boy version of the Rogers man he''d saved earlier in the day took place in front of her along with other figures covered in random blankets, sheets and rags.


    Smirking, the sultry woman said, "I suppose I''ll just have to settle for an incomplete set. Enjoy your winter, boy."


    She turned to walk away with the rest of her retinue following behind. Rolling his eyes, Orison tossed out a ball of chaotic essence. The trick wasn''t really good for anything except disrupting fine control spells and delicate psionic signals. It was plenty to ruin the arrogant woman''s gloating victory exit, however.


    Suddenly surrounded by an angry mob attempting to beat the stuffing out of her, the woman who was neither truly alive nor dead, tried to gain control of the ''guards'' nearest her. Sadly with so many feet and fists wanting their share, all she could do is manage an occasional broken cry cut off by yet another blunt force trauma to the face or torso.


    He thought of letting them finish her off but then considered a different solution. With the hidden stores of food as a motivation, he coerced them into cleanly breaking her arms and legs so that he could safely interrogate her. To be extra sure, he had them retreat to a safe distance so she couldn''t control them again.


    Mind whirring, Orison struggled to find the optimal solution to this new problem as he shrunk down the outwardly appearing black orb containing his group''s shelter before storing it away. Even if the food that was stolen could be found, there were too many people to share it with in good faith. There was no doubt in the young mage''s mind that if he didn''t share it, the situation would no longer just be people against monsters.


    "Consider your next words and actions carefully. In a situation such as this, good and evil matter a great deal less than useful and useless," he said menacingly.


    Looking down at her, he couldn''t help but notice that she was inhumanly beautiful. Being beaten had only lent that allure a strong flavor of tragedy. Like a bleak and desolate gothic Snow White, she laid broken amid dead and blackening leaves on the frosty ground.


    Even as she stared up at him with large, teary eyes, he wasn''t moved in the slightest. Cherry lips, split but unswollen, murmured a begging litany of forgiveness and mercy. He slapped her and grabbed the sides of her slender neck, sliding her off the ground and up against a tree to meet his eyes.


    "You are no kind of man to do this to me!" she said half in accusation and half in plea.


    Forcing his eyes to flare in spectral brilliance, he replied, "You''re right. I''m a monster just... like... you. So, stop playing damsel in distress. No one cares... You two, over in the thicket, stop inching towards my people or I''ll rip her spine out and beat you to death with it."


    Under spirit sight, he saw two others whose life force and spiritual fluctuations moved in the same slow and steady way as the woman pinned to the tree. He noticed that aside from ''boy'' Rogers and a couple of others, the rest didn''t react until they saw the three look sharply to the thicket.


    "Oh, great. Some of our new group don''t even speak the same language," Orison thought.


    Out loud, he said, "Hunter, what would you call a half human, half vampire?"


    The budding wizard exclaimed excitedly, "Dhampir! Are they really dhampirs!? That''s amazing!"


    Withering under Cole''s glare, Hunter added in a more subdued manner, "We might be able to work things out right? Dhampirs don''t NEED blood. Or, at least, not as much. If we were willing to donate a little, maybe they could help us survive the winter. We might even be able to find some hidden stuff in the undead empire. Maybe a proper spell book instead of trying to push things together from a scrap heap?"


    Not taking his eyes off ''Snow White'', Orison replied, "You do realize that doing it that way will teach you better?... And stop blurting things. This is a ''less is more'' kind of situation... Where was I? Ah...


    "The three of you have heard. We aren''t naturally opposed to cooperation with... dhampirs but your little lady''s actions here have put a rather serious kink in that. Do either of you in the thicket have a mutually agreeable solution to offer?"


    An annoyingly handsome man stepped forward into moonlit ground along with a devastatingly beautiful woman.


    Before the male dhampir could speak, Hunter blurted. "Wow, are all dhampirs supermodel hot?"


    Natural diplomat, annoyingly handsome guy caught the gist of the meaning of Hunter''s words and said, "It''s the aesthetics of our creation. Vampires value beauty, sire it. Some are weak enough to its call to form affection for a particularly enchanting victim. During the spring years of such a creature, a rare chance arises for our conception but our cold blooded parent''s fickle obsession inevitably dies with time like all else.


    "One or twice it has been recorded that a particularly smitten vampire may answer the call of oblivion to pursue their muse to the afterlife. It is an occasion greatly more rare than our creation, I assure you. I have not lived through the time of such an event."


    Orison said blandly, "Fascinating. Suggestions for a solution to our current dilemma? There''s months worth of time to wax eloquent on art, culture, hopefully language."


    Mr. Photogenic replied, "There are a few outlier strongholds with items and potential treasures to suit both our needs. You have my word on friendship as long as it is reciprocated."


    Orison gave a faint smile.


    After getting a similar agreement from the other two, he said, "A return of our stolen goods and it''s a sealed deal."


    The male dhampir wasn''t as enthusiastic about that but returned what hadn''t already been consumed or accidentally damaged beyond usability in the haste it was acquired. In a surprise move that eased tension some, the young mage reciprocated by taking two empty bottles and pouring a third of a bottle of Doc Agave into each, filling it the rest of the way with blood collected from Hunter, Cole and Cray.


    They took turns sniffing the bottles and ''Silent Beauty'' went for Cole''s. There was a brief bicker for Hunter''s before the losing ''Snow White'' took Cray''s. Recovering after a drink of ''Bloody Doc'', ''Snow White'' failed to resist glancing daggers at Orison which earned her a hard but affectionate cuff to the back of the head by ''Silent Beauty''.


    Seeing no reason to delay, they set out for the northernmost stronghold. While they traveled through the night, Orison closely watched social dynamics. The non-common speakers congregated around boy Rogers and his two people. The two dhampir siblings followed ''Silent Beauty'' unquestioningly.


    As for his group, the structure wasn''t nearly as solid. He could rely on Cray for the most part but Cole and Hunter were a force unto themselves. The budding wizard sucked up to Mr Photogenic and Cole gave the three dhampirs predatory smiles when they weren''t paying attention to him.


    At one point, Orison sidled op to the feline young man and said, "You''re not strong enough... I don''t know what your plan was or is but ''Silent Beauty'' will knock your spiritual intent''s d*ck into the dirt so hard, your mother will make you marry it in nine months."


    Startled, Cole looked at the young mage with suspicion. "I don''t know what you''re going on about."


    Orison rolled his eyes and said, "You were never under control and thought to let them take you and Hunter to some place you could ransack. There''s a good chance that you might not come back if you and he found only enough for yourselves or something you didn''t feel like sharing."


    Looking stubborn, Cole said, "Like you wouldn''t. It''s survival first and friendship second. You got Cray and he''s got me. Besides, it wouldn''t surprise me if somebody pulled your tongue and a meat pie popped out the other end... Now that it''s all on the table, does that mean we can''t get along or something?"


    Feeling a little emotionally tired, Orison said, "No, I wouldn''t. And no, it doesn''t mean that. I had hoped for a little more than mutually suspicious allies from you after openly sharing what I had. It just makes me the fool, I guess."


    Looking a little conflicted, Cole added, "It might be survival first but I know how to repay a favor, alright? Isn''t that good enough?"


    Orison nodded wearily, "Guess it has to be... Let Hunter know that those two fought over his blood because he''s a virgin. They''ll chew him up. They''ll spit him out afterwards if he''s lucky."


    Somewhat nervously, Cole said, "Why do you think the ''moon goddess'' looking one wanted my blood?"


    The young mage chuckled weakly and said, "Some older women have a weakness for handsome men, some for young ones and some prefer cats... Watch your a**."

 216 The Fool 21

    Orison said, "No offense. I can appreciate and even admire your altruism but that little girl on your head was a beast that would have ripped you limb from limb earlier in the day. It''s their ''hunger'' that keeps me at a distance, if you need a reason you can understand. We didn''t really have enough for us, now there''s you, who I''m inclined to share what little I have with, your two buddies and a gaggle of ex-goblinoids."


    Looking grim, the inwardly mature early teen said, "How bad is it? What plane are we on and how hard will it be to get back to Avalon?"


    Stonily, Orison replied, "If there isn''t another food producing magic item in one of these ruins, the winter is going to get bleak. Our best hope of aid sees US as food, sort of. Come spring, there''s other possibilities but the mountains are impassable from here to then. I got that from Sammy herself. Well, my three companions did.


    "From what little Hunter read, we''re in West Reach. It''s the edge of the known world. On the other side of this mountain range is a place called the Illuminated Plains. The rest of this place is just as much a mystery to me as it is to you.


    "There''s no going to Avalon. At least, there''s no going the way I think you''re suggesting. You''ve been down for close to a lifetime from Beta- Alpha Minoris'' perspective."


    Rogers said, "Then, how do you know about my boys? How did you get here?"


    Orison shook his head. "I was only part of the person who knew your kids and that explanation isn''t one I''m willing to have with you right now. Garret and Gurrut are on a mid-dimensional world called Amoril. As best I can figure, they MIGHT still be alive but more than likely are not or very, very old men by now."


    The ''boy'' looked desolate. Returning to his group, the two who constantly flanked him, returned to their ''posts'' but remained silent. The suits they wore revealed no features and looked like WWII replicas complete with gas masks. They were the only ones out of Rogers whole group that had anything resembling regular clothes, even the ''boy'' himself. Orison wondered what made them act so strictly subordinated or why Rogers didn''t seem to question it in any way.


    Looking over, the young mage saw that Cray had picked up a little shoulder hitchhiker himself, an around eight year old looking boy with blistered and seeping feet. They had been cleaned and bandaged by the archer but that was the extent. Pacing up to him, Orison asked, "How are you holding up?"


    "Had a lot on my mind. Sorry... I ain''t been very good support the last few, have I?" Cray said.


    Cray soothed the boy as Orison applied some healing to the kid''s feet making the boy look at the young mage with surprised awe. "Sh-sh- shama... E-e-e shama!"


    A few people looked over as Orison placed a finger up to his lips. The boy must have been a little smarter than his other kin because he immediately went silent.


    The archer chuckled and said, "He''s an edge over all these other rusty blades. Might be why they shun him. They ain''t mean like but when he fell over, that boy in charge over there didn''t notice and none of his kinfolk gave a lick. Well, one did but it weren''t the kind of lick you wanna see. I think if we were stopping for a rest then, that one might of tried to eat him."


    Two hours past daybreak, Rogers called for a rest. Their three dhampir guides were mostly fine with that until Rogers clarified the need for longer than a five or ten minute one. Orison quickly jumped in to state that a two hour rest would end up saving a good deal of need for recovery from injuries later. Time to clean and cover foot wounds was needed and a small nap would bolster flagging energy.


    Mr Photogenic said, "Food is an ever pressing issue. Unless you''re willing to dole out another share to all these good people, pressing on could mean recovering items capable of serving those needs."


    The remainder of Roy''s ration bars and the one''s Lily left in the cupboard might feed the whole lot for four days or so. That pressed Orison because after that, there would only be the special ones she had left in the liquor cabinet remaining. Those were like the ones from the silk purse illusion and he had no intentions of sharing or even using them unless it was absolutely necessary. They weren''t just food, they were recovery and life extension medicine.


    Silently, he pulled out a handful of Roy''s bars and split them in half before handing them out. The male dhampir looked at him in stunned speechlessness while Hunter looked on bitterly. Cole''s face was unreadable but he was looking at a lot more than just Orison. Rogers appeared as if he had something to say but held his tongue for the moment.


    After glancing at Cray to see the man unconcerned and goofing around with his savage child, he turned to the dhampir man and said, "Then it''s decided."


    ''Snow White'' paced back from where ''Silent Beauty'' merely slowed a little but showed no signs of stopping. "Wasteful... Still, far more noble than I thought you capable... Father, Grandmother wishes a word with you."


    A few minutes later, the male dhampir came back and said, "Since time doesn''t seem to press you as greatly as we see it''s encroaching issues, Mother will go ahead of us to begin searching. We shall stay and act as guides."


    Orison replied, as he helped Rogers attend to feet concerns, "I feel the urgency but I also know the limits of human endurance and the consequences for ignoring them too long. I would feel a great deal more at ease if she''d wait with us. The span of two hours isn''t short but it isn''t long either. If there''s need for another rest stop, I won''t push as hard about holding you back."


    There wasn''t even a moment''s pause before the man said, "Our partnership is in its infancy. A little suspicion is understandable. Surely our presence is enough guarantee to allow our mother to move as she wishes?"


    Orison said blandly, "It depends. Is she going to start an early search or to prepare a cage for our reception? How are we to know? I have yet to have a reason to doubt your word but it''s two hours for goodwill and continued trust."


    Hunter spoke up. "Come on! She could be going to deal with enemies all by herself just so we have an easy time getting there and you want to turn it into some kind of conspiracy!?"


    The young mage sighed as he saw a slight quirk of lip on the man while ''Snow White'' glanced at her father, frowning. Orison filed that away along with his correction on the nature of their relationship. He could have sworn them siblings but then again, he knew nothing about the vampires of this world. The only guesses for what kind of natural progeny they could create and the features of such an entity, laid in dubious information from a game made on another world.


    Orison shrugged. "I''m not suggesting that she is but she COULD be going to negotiate with such threats and we''re the bargaining chips in that scenario. As far as I''m concerned, me and those that are willing to come with me will not be going with you if she doesn''t stay with us."


    The fact that the man wasn''t moving to speak with his mother was all the answer he needed. He stated his intent and unsurprisingly, other than the archer and his little shadow, no one else was willing to follow but there were a couple who had words to share.


    Off to the side, Rogers said, "I don''t know if it was a hallucination or not but is there a pretty woman in your group that''s staying out of sight?"


    As Cray coughed to keep his honest face from giving anything away, Orison said, "Far out of sight... Why?"


    Fidgeting a little, the ''boy'' said, "I''m not stupid but they don''t have the strength for a trek back north... Did she happen to have my uniform? And, uh, do you think she might be into younger men?"


    Moving out of Roger''s peripheral vision, Cray nearly turned purple trying to hold his tongue, taking deep breaths.


    Poker face sliding into place, Orison replied, "One moment. I''ll... talk with her."


    Moving his sight inward, he pushed his intent into the closet within the cabin. Three uniforms hung neatly on all but one of the permanent hangers within. Matching boots belts and a few other random things were neatly organized in the bottom.


    Locking onto his items, he returned his sight outward and said conversationally, "Al-ice, send me the uniform and equipment for the Rogers man we found."


    The young mage pulled out the things that belonged to ''boy'' Rogers and handed them over. "She wanted me to tell you that there were two rusalka, female water spirits, that were watching over you. They took off to the center of the undead empire here, presumably to start their own lake. They... carried a family resemblance."


    Rogers looked lost for a moment.


    Turning equal parts sad and angry, the ''boy'' muttered, "He knew. That b*****d knew that the scientist on our team wasn''t just bullsh*ting. Sis, I''m so sorry. They sent you and that other Rogers main family girl into that bubbling mud pit and they knew."


    Packing away his emotional baggage with practiced ease, he added, "This will help a lot. Once i''ve done what I need to, I''ll try to catch up with you all."


    Covertly, he reached into a hidden vest pouch and closed his eyes. Removing his hand from it, he held a tracker. "I''ll wear this one. The other should be good to sense my approach within around five miles. Cardinal point only direction capability sucks but it''s cheap and lasts for years."


    He took the small pin shaped tracker and shoved it deep into the cartilage under his nose and capped it on either side. Done giving himself an invisible septum piercing, he put the uniform on and used some straps to secure what was far too big at the moment. With a wave and well wishing, he rejoined his group.


    As Orison and Cray began their trek back north with the little guy in tow, ''Snow White'' glided up to them. Hunter was making his way towards them too.


    "Do you insist on this?" she said.


    Wary of sudden trickery, the young mage said, "What other way is there? The question was rhetorical. You know full well why I''m doing it."


    Pulling out a blank sheet of smooth tanned skin, she unrolled her personal map and used magic to copy it over with a grudging look. "The fang symbols are known nests of the goblin tribes, That symbol is for known caves and that one is for historical sites, different ruins and so on."


    Orison raised an eyebrow. "That''s surprisingly altruistic."


    "I believe that you are a man... or monster... of his word. I want you to know I''m a woman of mine. If you need sinister motive to put your blackguard heart at ease, consider it a method of wild game preservation," she said before sauntering away seductively.


    As Hunter approached, he shot a thinly veiled jealous look between them. "You''re insane. Cray and Cole almost died just going hunting once. All you''re chasing is death up there!"


    Grimly, Orison shot back, "There are things worse than death. I think the south holds more than one."


    Hunter sighed and said, "If you survive til spring by some miracle, I''ll try to make a trip to the dirt cave we were holed in. If you get there first, let me know what your plan is. If I do, I''ll leave you a note of what mine are. If I can, I''ll TRY to leave you a grimoire of whatever magical texts I can study. Catch up is better than nothing."


    Orison nodded. "Do you like them or do you admire what they are?"


    Hunter looked back. "Yes."


    Frowning, the young mage asked, "If they offer to make you like them, would you take it?"


    "I wouldn''t want to be a vampire but if I could be a dhampir, I would. You have to be born one, though," the budding wizard said wistfully.


    "Clear your mind, drink this and think happy thoughts about being a dhampir as you imagine them to be," Orison said, handing him one of the two ''vials of fantasia'' that Osomo''s debtor substitute had given.


    He waited til Hunter took it but didn''t wait for the result. With a look to Cray, they began the tiring journey back north.


    Once they were nearly a half day up the road in mostly silence, the archer said, "Why did you do that? If that little bottle does what you said it can, won''t that make them a might too curious about what other rabbits you can pull from your hat?"


    The young mage replied, "If they''re the particular combination of smart, cunning but not overly brave type I think they are, it should scare the daylights out of them."


    Brow wrinkling, Cray asked, "Why''s that?"


    "They''re proud of what they are. I just casually granted that to a random person like it was no big deal. There''s nothing quite as humbling and deeply shaking as seeing something you think makes you special and see someone else giving that something away like charity.


    "My main reason for doing it was to keep them from turning Hunter into something like they are but close enough that they can''t tell the difference. It puts him on the same level as them. The dhampir in Hunter''s mind, I don''t think...


    "Whatever those three are, it''s something that only superficially looks and acts like what Hunter envisions. What they show, what''s allowed to express itself into this world, is a shell. That shell hides something with fiendish and corrupt aura. This world''s version of Hell, whatever it may be, they have a tie to it."


    "Regardless, all those things have a leg up in, is lifespan and a convenient way to convert easy to digest lifeforce into a supernatural fuel source. It''s like the Rogers Family training manual is directly built into their bodies and automated along with efficient personal life essence usage, maybe a touch of physical auto-correct. It sounds amazing until you realize that there''s all these tiny side-effects and future growth potential limitations."


    Cray, sounding interested for all the wrong reasons, said, "What kind of side-effects?"


    Orison shrugged. "Well, the need to drink the blood of soul possessing mammals for one. You could survive on fish and chips but alas, no perks. To have the moderate variety of minor supernatural abilities and slow aging, top shelf red is a must. Allergies, particularly to things that greatly affect how blood works, there''s probably a few. Sensitivities at the least.


    "Look, if you''re thinking about it too, don''t. Our souls have a great growth rate. I didn''t know un-death had a sliding scale but you don''t want to be on it. Theirs doesn''t grow very well, if at all. A powerful soul might not be that fancy but what it does for you, beats a thousand little parlor tricks... eventually. The important thing is that a powerful soul leads to progress, protection and sets the limits of what ''will'' can do."


    For the rest of that day, to distract themselves from the fatigue they were accruing, they discussed finer points of the benefits of the soul. To his surprise, Cray had discovered that he''d been using a little of that power in a lot of ways for some time. It was part of ''tapping the calmness'' and visualization that he used to be such a great archer. He naturally meditated while doing things like hunting and fishing, which provided a great deal of his steadiness and adaptive ability when things weren''t going so well.


    The archer''s life had been in so much turmoil lately that he had lost some of that natural ''Zen'' quality that his childhood upbringing and disposition granted. After their talk, he realized it wasn''t necessary to hunt and fish to get it. He also recognized a potential that the young mage had overlooked.


    Magic users focused on intent and will to shape and hold magic but those forces had their own way of being used in raw and refined forms of their own. That form had a lot more applications than allowing an arrow to hit a target the archer wasn''t looking at, defy adversities to get it there or hit with a little more force than it should have. He had stepped into a wide vista and found a few wispy trails into the cousin of magic, psionics.


    It wasn''t that Cray had particularly discussed THAT with Orison. The young mage naturally discovered something was up when the trickle of magic essence he sent the archer became sluggish and stopped flowing over but the most minute amount. A force began taking its place within Cray''s veins and nerves, particularly around his head.


    The memories Orison held of the minute talent he had once exercised to catalyze kinetic models was laughable compared to the silvery essence speckling through the archer''s body, slowly driving the less orderly magic out. It wasn''t so much that both couldn''t co-exist. It was just that the silvery essence was Cray''s and the magic contained the aura of another on it, causing it to be gently rejected.


    Chuckling, Cray muttered to himself, "Well, if that don''t beat all."

 217 The Fool 22

    Between the clefts of a small creek created gully was a washed out cavern supported by two large stones that leaned against each other, buried untold years ago. It wasn''t a good spot to lay over to spring at but it would do for a good rest and allow them a sheltered breather for a day. Orison fully intended to check out of their occasionally flooding camp site after a two night stay.


    That night, after a joyless dinner of Roy''s Famous ''artificial honey and almost spoiled milk'' Flavored Every Meal Bar, they immediately took a small coma. With the overly curious eight year old wedged between them to keep him from turning the cabin into a landfill site, they grudgingly shared the last blanket they owned. That didn''t stop them from waking up to a scream due to the boy scalding himself in the bath after making a mess with toilet water.


    The golden mercy that came from that was the boy spending most of the day watching them carefully instead of destructively experimenting on his own. Orison managed to get through exploring the cabin for other mysteries and finding two small hidden storage devices in the other Rogers uniforms, in relative peace before curiosity started overcoming memories of pain. To keep from the boy snapping the young mage''s last nerve, Cray lead the kid out to the ''front yard'' where the archer started teaching Heath his ''letters''.


    With knowledge on how other hidden features were constructed, the young mage easily found bookshelves faced with false log panels by the inner side of the bed. Within were the books he had stored to help Hunter make hard choices at the lich''s barrow. Most of it was mundane but useful knowledge. Among them was a guide to magic item crafting and two books on potion making, however.


    The discovery of a pulling privacy divider for the bed area lead to the discovery that the bed itself lifted off the floor. Doing so revealed that the lock box under the bed was just a small part of a shelf. Continuing to lift, a part of the floor detached to raise into a workbench. Below was a storage area that had a five galleon distiller, a brew kit and some empty bottles stored in five galleon oak barrels. He didn''t know whether to laugh or cry.


    "Well, with such a mellow name, it''s probably something really special in a good way. With Sammy''s tongue in cheek style, something named after Zeus'' cup bearer will probably be a real treat. It''s odd, though. I don''t think it''s like her to give out the last of anything," he mused as he walked to the bathroom.


    With something that made use of the space on one side of the source tray, Orison was certain that the other side would as well. Try as he might, there didn''t seem to be anything in the bathroom. Moving outside, he dug around the lip of the cabin before resorting to the strongest push of spirit sight he was capable of using.


    Moments later, he was sitting back in the cabin, wondering what happened. There was nothing but gardening supplies and materials for a victory garden sized greenhouse inside of the bathroom side tray but the security to reach it was immense. The details on how he had finally open it were missing and he felt slightly bloated within the layer of his space he could no longer see. Whatever he had found there, he wasn''t ready for but ''it'' had become connected to him anyway.


    Looking around the cabin, he got the sense that it''s whole existence had been a cover for that one ''thing''. All the enchantments, funny little secret compartments, even the special boozes and medicines he had originally been given, they had all been a smokescreen for the passing of said mystery from Sammy to him. The most bizarre thing was that he somehow knew it was meant for HIM. Green had it for a short time only to escape someone or something''s notice that had been drawn to him while he was in an Earth''s afterlife.


    It called many things into question. The most important part being his relationship with the boy whose soul he had been connected to. That soul''s epic destiny seemed to be some kind of cover for his own fragile existence. He began to suspect that the scary book and the old man that had been connected to it were only acting out some kind of strange play to move ''Al'' to where he needed to be.


    With hazy thoughts roiling, Orison called out, "Cray, I have something to show you. Heath... Heath! Treats!"


    As the boy came running up to him, the young mage gave him a piece of hard candy he had found in one of the female Rogers secret storage devices. He hadn''t expected Cray to give him a grudging look over that or to see that look vanish completely as he handed the archer a few pieces as well. It seemed that for all his ''inner peace'' Cray had some pretty childlike parts to himself as well.


    Chuckling, Orison said, "I hadn''t expected that you had a sweet tooth and that''s not what I wanted to show you... Look at the table."


    The archer panned his eyes over to see a superbly crafted compound bow with a twenty storage quiver and a stack of unopened arrow shaft boxes. There were also some smaller boxes with different style tips and some maintenance supplies but he neither knew nor cared enough about archery to be able to appreciate them. Handing them all over with one of the two empty storage device jewel pins, he let Cray figure it all out.


    The other storage device only contained the feminine items Orison saw no immediate use for and the sentimental items he thought might be useful to return to their original owners or the Rogers guy, if they ever met again. The rest had been placed into Roy''s ''Blood Moon'' patch or stored in the cabin.


    "Any good news on our vittles situation?" Cray asked after his quarter hour joy-gasm started fading away.


    Orison nodded. "A few more likely equally as barely palatable flavors of cardboard have been added to our ration stock. There''s some freeze dried goodies that we can spread out to keep our taste buds from dying. We''ve even managed to get our hands on some replacement bedding, towels and toiletry items.


    "Once I''ve had some time to consolidate some basic transmutation and conjuring principles into a working model, we''ll have things to wear besides our suits. Great news for Heath, I''m sure. He hates wearing clothes when he doesn''t have to even more than me!"


    Hearing his name, the boy looked up expectantly. "Teet?"


    Rolling his eyes, the young mage handed the kid one more hard candy. "Why not?... but no more until after evening cardboard."


    Cray said, "Until he knows enough to get the difference, you probably shouldn''t be using words wrong around him."


    Smirking, Orison said, "Sorry, Papa Cray."


    Heath looked up, confused on what it was the young mage did wrong and looked down at the candy wrapper. Having nearly mastered the art of apology over a day''s journey and another day''s mischief, he recognized no, stop and sorry among a few others.


    Handing the trash over to the archer, the boy said, "So-lee pa kay."


    Sobering up from that display of intelligence, Orison said, "Alright, point taken... After we''re back on our way tomorrow, I''m going to give this cabin''s ownership over to you. It''s a vague, hazy kind of thing but I think there''s enough of whatever made it special to help you open an inner space.


    "It''ll probably be in your spiritual seat instead of your chest but that''s not a bad thing. It''ll help provide an extra level of protection from mental effects. After the next time we lay it down, I''ll show you where all the hidey-holes in the place are. It won''t be that useful til then since the cabin''s going to change a little between now and the next time it''s laid."


    The archer blinked numbly for a moment and then said, "Why? Are you planing on dipping out or something?"


    The young mage said, "No, nothing like that. It''s just that it''s currently ownerless and the thing it''ll do once it''s claimed will help open an inner space. I couldn''t tell you how I know. I just do. But after that, it won''t have another owner the way it is now.


    "After that, it''ll only be a cabin with some nifty features. It will lose whatever ability it has to be shifted and stored. I''d rather see it do the most good.


    "Whatever it has left, it isn''t enough to do anything much for me. Believe it or not, it''s the reason I had a usable inner space at all when we woke up in that cliff. I mean, I would have had one again eventually but it would have taken longer.


    "I wondered why I wasn''t able to get access to the whole thing at once. The special stuff in the cabin was taking some time to stabilize what it had made before it would let me. Speaking of which, don''t be surprised if you can''t take it back out immediately.


    "Don''t worry though. I got some stuff prepared in advance. Between the girl who liked having hot meals and the one who enjoyed camping, we have a way to be relatively comfy for the time it takes you to whip the cabin back out."


    Mentally rushing to catch back up, Cray said, "If that''s the case, let''s post up here til spring. It don''t need no owner until it gets packed away, right?"


    Orison shook his head. "First of all, I don''t want it out unless it''s claimed. Too much dumb sh-stuff has happened in the past for me to risk that. Second off, a couple of days might not be that bad but if it stays this way for too long, I''ll be the only one who can take it. It was isolated within something before that it doesn''t have anymore. And the thing that produced the special spiritual quality it used to aid in stowing it away, is gone now too."


    As nervous as it made him, Orison placed some things from the cabin into his inner space and showed Cray the artifact center on the bottom of the lockable liquor cabinet. With a drop of blood and a choked whisper of ''I''m one of the b*tches that lights Sammy''s cigars'', the cabin officially belonged to the archer. As soon as that was complete, faint wisps of unknown essence that were slowly dissipating from the cabin began being drawn to Cray''s spiritual seat instead.


    "I''m thinking that you gave the cabin to me because of that line you gotta say," Cray said with a frown.


    Orison''s ears and cheeks took on a faint pinkish hue as he coughed.


    "How petty would I have to be for that to be my main motivation? Can''t I have done it to help a friend have their own personal inner space!? How useful and valuable is that? Who wouldn''t say a couple of words they don''t even have to mean to have either the space or the cabin?" he said in mock hurt.


    Cray snorted. "I''m thinking maybe you!... We only got about a half day and it''s gonna tuck itself in my head."


    Orison burst into activity. He studied the Degree Shift formations on the stove and sinks. He observed the mending of the closet and the preservation formations on the cabinets. Lastly, he spent some time on the Presto enchantments spread throughout the cabin. He saw things the owner couldn''t because their own essence and the source power that ran the cabin would obscure them.


    Hours on end he studied and experimented until he had a decent cold weather outfit for Heath but found out that model casting the simplest of spells seemed, not beyond him, but too simple and fake. The smallest of magics that existed in the realm of conjuring and transmutation were seemingly a part of his concepts. He had just been under-reaching so hard, he''d missed the clues.


    To use the magic of the world to cast instead of his own, a halfhearted focus of will flavored request for the things he understood was all the effort it took. It was a strange sensation that a mere whim would warp a model into existence but that was the strength of his understanding. He had been trying to light a candle with a laser cutter only to vaporize the wick.


    Focusing on the sensation of reaching out to the passive elements of the world''s will within its magic essence, a whole new vista opened. Within the blanket of ambient magic was echoes of the magic it had fueled before. What was rejected or accepted, what was truer than the world''s will could deny and what was false but aided to work by the will of the world, although not laid bare, was slowly being revealed to him. As long as he possessed some insight into a concept''s workings, the young mage could find a part of it within the etheric echos of the magic blanket, teasing out the rest.


    The magic of the world was his grimoire and he could study the least corrupted forms, one teased bit at a time. That wasn''t without its limitations. Several things became clear.


    There was a limit to how much he could see. The world would only reveal what he was attuned to, which was conjuring and transmogrification. With spirit sight, he could vaguely see up to and slightly past the simplest forms of all magic. With effort, he could see a little further down what he could only think of as divination magic but what was revealed seemed rather specifically tied to communication.


    As he stepped out to the front porch to see a little more clearly, there was a sense of the world looking back. It seemed to communicate that it wouldn''t stop the young mage from seeing a certain amount but once that limit was reached, the rest would become obscure until he had earned the right to more. It was an offhanded and strange communication that was as impersonal and unfocused as it could be and still relay what was needed.


    Orison quietly chuckled. "I get it. You want to stick me in a box called sorcerer the way Hunter tried to label me a warlock. That''s fine. There''s plenty to study. And then, when I reach that cap, I''ll just ''forget'' some things and study some more. What I''m aiming for is something beyond the models that control magic. I''ve already pried that lid loose. The will of this world won''t actively move against me unless I take more than I give but looking doesn''t cost anything except my time."


    There wasn''t a flash of light or some other ''loud'' phenomenon. He had only suddenly realized himself to have become a tier four existence. Without fanfare, applause or any other form of recognition, he''d passed the hardest wall of mortal existence. He had fairly been blown by a strong breeze of circumstance through it but it had lead him through death and to kiss the very face of oblivion first.


    He had only savored the subtle but deep spiritual moment briefly before two step baptisms washed over him in a row. He had been terrified that such a thing would lift him up and send him spiraling into yet another reality but it hadn''t. Upon realizing that they wouldn''t, a new terror gripped him. He was trapped on this world until he could find a preexisting way off or find a way to do it himself.


    Distracted by his own disturbed thoughts, he almost missed the nearly invisible four ringed halo that had risen out of himself to take in the baptisms'' light before collapsing back inward as five. Short of being comatose or dead he wouldn''t have missed the beam of cleansing and reality bolstering light that had descended on Cray behind him. Two rings of light rose out of the archer to greet it, then collapsed back in as three.


    He wondered how Cray could have slept through such an important moment but realized the bright light that he saw was from spirit sight. The mortal world would have saw very little. And they had been so visible in the low dimensions, for a very different reason.


    The young mage smiled inwardly that there were at least SOME benefits for being tied to his train wreck of an existence. Orison had taken a large step in more ways than one. In the process of keeping aligned spiritually with him, the archer had innately absorbed some of the young mage''s greater understandings in some form of spiritual osmosis.


    As raw and newly acquired as the baptisms were, anyone nearby might receive a little benefit from it. So, he curled around the other side of Heath and let the settling echoes of his baptism wash over the kid and onto Cray as a weaker echo responded back. He needed some rest anyway. The weak and feeble flash of a first step baptism taking place just outside the cabin''s kinetic field only subconsciously registered to his weary mind.

 218 The Fool 23

    Cray looked over Heath and Cole tearing into it with dreamy eyed gusto as prideful satisfaction settled onto his features. "Better get your vittles before one a these two decide to start swiping of your plate, Orison."


    He didn''t have to be asked twice. Finishing up with speed, the young mage decided to get a quick shower in before the cabin waved goodbye for awhile. Once he was out, the feline young man practically pushed him out of the way to have a turn, barely managing to finish up before having to run out of the trembling structure. It wasn''t clear what the spectacle looked like to Cray but to the rest, it appeared as if the cabin tried to headbutt the archer as it shrank, knocking him off his feet.


    Cray turned to the feline young man as he got up and said, "Next time, we ain''t gonna have a foot race with the abyss spawn. When it''s time to go, it''s time to go. I feel like somebody socked me in the brain with a peg hammer."


    "I''ll remember," Cole said solemnly.


    Looking between the two, Heath hissed at the feline young man.


    While pointing insistently at Cray, the boy said, "Soley pa kay."


    Cole looked back at the boy and said, "Remembering and not doing it again is better than a sorry."


    The boy nodded but Orison could tell he didn''t understand. He heard a ''sorry'' and that''s all that mattered.


    He pulled on the young mage''s hand and pointed at Cray''s head. "E shama."


    Bemused, Orison replied, "You want me to heal his head?"


    "E shama... e-elu," Heath tried to repeat, not looking sure if what he was saying had the meaning he hoped it did.


    Seeing no harm in it and the faint possibility that there might actually be an issue with a shrinking house passing through a head, Orison applied a couple of seconds worth of healing. Considering that Cray looked a little bit relieved, it probably wasn''t that much of a waste after all.


    The young mage said, "As grateful as I am to wake up to a real meal, I''m still curious why you tracked us down, Cole."


    The feline young man shook his head like he was trying to knock cobwebs loose. "When you left, I got edgy. When I saw where we were headed, I felt that it would have been better to follow you. When I tried to convince Hunter and then sneak off when I couldn''t, I found out for sure I should have.


    Dully, Orison said, "Cray stand between us just in case. Heath come over here and I''ll give you a treat."


    Heath came bounding over with a smile and a hand out.


    Once he handed the boy another candy, he said, "It shouldn''t be too hard to figure one out... I''m thinking about going back to kill the three of them."


    An easy to miss sinister look floated over Cole''s face. He smiled faintly and was about to say something when he scowled, clutching his head as if it were in pain. Orison reached out with his spiritual intent and tried to latch onto the faint amethyst tinted tendril of essence. Slowly, he teased it out and away from Cole until it slipped out of his intent''s ''grip''.


    As the tendril tried to pull itself back in, smoky essence from Cole''s heart point wrapped around it like a snake trying to crush it''s prey''s bones. Slowly the tendril lost its luster and the smoky essence doubled back on it before returning to the heart point.


    Cole''s tail swished back and forth jerkily as the scowl only deepened. "Yup. That was one. I was supposed to keep friendly and then try to kill you... You know I can break them, right? They don''t control me."


    Orison sighed. "They do, just not for long. It would be long enough to do something regrettable if there was a more instant response trigger. I want to try something. It won''t hurt or anything."


    In an act of sheer fight against instinct, Cole managed to only flinch a fraction when the young mage touched between his brow. With Cray by his side to stop Cole from doing any ''instant triggering'', Orison focused on the image of the key inside him. What he wanted to do was use it to look in hindsight for other thing he ''might'' have done to trigger a response, take some of the guesswork out of finding more. That''s not what happened.


    A rush of half formed images cleared and the young mage found himself looking through Hunter''s eyes. A pair of dark, enchanting ones stared through Hunter back at him. The ''silent beauty'' tried to engage him in a war of wills but he didn''t want her to hurt Hunter or Cole through what they were doing so he invited her in. momentarily surprised, she seemed poised between discussion and action.


    He tried to take the initiative. "It seems like I''m exposed to you but I''m not. If you try to dive to my spiritual seat, all that will be left behind where you are is an unmoving vegetable. The damage to your will''s strength and clarity will take quite some time to recover. And all that time, you''ll be vulnerable to reprisal from me. Choose wisely."


    In his mind, she stood straighter, proud and calm. "I appreciate the warning. I don''t know if I readily believe you have the strength you project but I''m also unwilling to test it. You believe it is true and that is enough for me, for now. What comes next?"


    Orison said, "Did Hunter volunteer the knowledge of his connection with Cole or was he coerced, potentially tricked in some way to reveal it? Answer my question and I''ll answer one of yours."


    She replied. "Before we begin this exchange, is that the rule you set? A question for a question, favor for favor?"


    Orison smiled faintly, "Such rules rarely end up with a fair result but they are a quite balanced set. I''m in agreement, if you are."


    With a firm nod, she answered, "He was coerced but with mundane affection and charm only. He wants to be accepted. My son and granddaughter are amused with his lingering mortal innocence and admiration. I am of the opinion that their affections will linger long enough for their inevitable parting to be... bearable for all involved.


    "I have many questions. It is difficult to choose which is the most beneficial to know the answer to. I will ask three. I would appreciate the answer to the one you will be most honest and clear about. What will you do when spring arrives? How did you make your companion into a princeling?... What are your thoughts on the guests who decided to winter with us?"


    Orison replied. "I have a small amount of affection for Hunter and would be upset if he were harmed in any meaningful way. I support the freedom and well being of the Rogers youth only insofar as he will be reasonable in his withdraw from your care when he is ready to leave.


    "I have no thoughts at all for the pack of curs that are only coincidentally human now. One or more of them raised hands to my people. If I knew which ones, they wouldn''t have survived, much less be left to your mercy. Bone apatite."


    She looked thoughtful for a moment and said, "If you tire of suspicion towards Cole as a conduit of my agency, tell him that he is welcome to return. I and Hunter would both be glad of his return."


    Orison gave her a saintly smile. "I would return the same about Hunter but I don''t care enough about what your doing to waste my precious time spying on you. However, Hunter is welcomed to visit as he pleases."


    Pondering some more, she carefully said, "And would this invitation extend to us as well?"


    Orison replied, "I think that both of us would feel more secure if one didn''t make plans to visit the other but your son OR granddaughter is conditionally welcome as long as the banner of friendly cooperation remains true from this point forward."


    Once again, she stood poised on the knife''s edge of maintaining friendly relations or attempting to eliminate him. Orison''s look of unwavering confidence made her wary enough to choose caution over her own confidence. On her way out, she attempted to leave a subtle mark only to feel it dissolve the moment her consciousness had returned to her own spiritual seat.


    Almost on instinct, his desire to remove subtle traces of her passing had him dragging out two more hidden packages of essence reinforced suggestion laying dormant in Cole''s mid. Find Objective and the key seemed to have a synergistic effect. The hindsight the key had shown before truly had been an effect of entanglement and worked much the same way on metaphysical grounds as it did in time-space.


    Suddenly, he saw a little hope of leaving this world alive someday. Finding what strengthened his Entanglement Key might be a possible solution. He had little doubt that it could eventually add places to its ability to manipulate connections.


    Sensing a little energy remaining in the key, he tried one more minor experiment before removing his hand from Cole''s head. He tried to ''lock'' the connection between Hunter and Cole. Severing the connection between two marked souls was beyond his strength but temporarily barring the way apparently wasn''t as Lock/Unlock paired just as well with his phantom conduit.


    Seeing Cole''s bewildered and slightly lost look, he said, "She won''t be happy about finding access to her spy barred but it will give her some piece of mind about Hunter. I should have asked first. I hope that didn''t up-"


    "Glad you did it. On the way here, I felt my debt to Hunter end. Do you have any idea why?" Cole asked.


    Orison struggled before responding hesitantly, "He was seduced into betraying the bond you share. He has no clue how bad that is but whatever''s keeping the karmic tally, it gives no f-orks."


    He hated the self censoring but he wasn''t ready to be responsible for the verbal corruption of a child''s vocabulary.


    The feline young man asked, "Is there a way to remove it?"


    "The short answer is yes. But, naturally, it will take a lifetime or two. That''s if you leave the burden of trying to maintain them on him and relinquish as much as you can. Never use them again and hope he lets go without a struggle," the young mage offered.


    Cole snorted. "Fat chance of that. I was willing to try to keep him safe or even die for him but he don''t own me and I''m not going to throw my life away for nothing... Can''t you pull it out like you did with that... woman''s. Is there anything that can be done?"


    Orison said. "Your soul''s not strong enough for me to forcefully pull it out. Once it was, forcefully removing it would make you lose most of your progress, possibly cripple you."


    Cole waited to hear the ''but'' that never came. "You do know something that can work, though. Is it that bad?"


    Sighing, the young mage said, "An equally powerful soul or stronger can cover it over with their own mark. I had someone do it for me once. How is that any better?"


    Cole said, "Someone stronger and wiser who would let go once their mark didn''t need to be there, how could that be better than a dumb kid who left me wide open to mind r*ping bloodsuckers!? How much time do we have for me to answer?"


    The archer, who had been patiently waiting on the sidelines, suddenly said, "Cole, explain all this to me, buddy. You''ve been a little strange after we came back with that scary gilly."


    Cole looked at Cray oddly and said, "You don''t remember, do you? We died while we were hunting. There were close to a dozen bugbears. I think they were curious and frightened by everything that had happened down south.


    "A short spear took you down so fast, you didn''t even have a chance to know what was happening. I lasted a little longer... There was something holding our souls from leaving, fixing the damage but not strong enough to bring us back. Stuck like that, dead but not able to move on, Some of the knowledge and bits of spiritual wisdom that Orison gave me, made sense. They became so clear.


    "The green flash that brought us back to life, it took some memories from us but I brought that back with me. Life and death, things that are hard to put into words, I made them a part of me. I can only still feel them clear when I''m not trying to directly think about them and I can''t share it but..."


    Orison said, "Your soul is partially phased. It has a foot dipping toes into the afterlife. There are things we''re not allowed to know when we''re here, alive. I guess you can feel those things, draw some kind of power from it. Remember to keep a balance between that special life and death cycling essence you have."


    Cole nodded solemnly and said, "You brought something back too, Cray. It''s something even harder to describe but... ''The Calm''. Whatever sands away all the edges, takes the sadness and pain away, while it was taking, you took some back... That''s not right... I think that whatever was left in us from that ritual Orison did, it took some of that and used it to fix you.


    "I was really worried about that. Not The Calm but the ritual you did, Orison. It didn''t matter if we were alive or dead. It kept fixing us. I''m not so worried about it now. It''s starting to fade. Something about this place, the curse in it turned your ritual into something else, that''s why it went... crazy. I think it ''ate'' the curse trying to fix and heal... everything."


    Something clicked in Orison''s head. The golden essence that kept trying to ''fix'' him even though he could sense that wasn''t what it was supposed to do exactly, it was flavored by the ritual circle. He was glad the thing exploded. The last thing he needed was a second conduit with dangerously uncontrolled abilities. Some things weren''t good to be ''healed'' or ''mended''.


    The phantom conduit made of his memories of ''the boy''s key and whatever unique personal traits he had, it was influenced and flavored by the passing of that circle. He thought that it might be possible that the circle would have ''fixed'' itself again but the forming key had taken, absorbed his connection with the circle and used that to strengthen itself. The radiating warmth of the late fall sun cast an even deeper chill in his heart than the crisp air.


    A vague echo of some man that Al knew talking about ''tunneling'' and ''fusion'' drifted through his mind. The sun, his key, a terrible and indiscriminate destructive power, shadows of possibilities both benign and malignant danced through his mind before he wiped them away and distracted himself. What was to come would come but dwelling on maybes wasn''t helpful at all.


    "For now, the connection between you and Hunter is locked. I''ll keep an eye on it. We can discuss overwriting his mark when we have the minimum safety necessary to do it," the young mage said.


    Throughout the day, they meandered in a slightly northern bent eastern route. The map provided by ''Snow White'' kept them from walking right into the territory of another tribe of goblinoids but didn''t keep them from having to deal with far range hunters. Roving in bands of one spear thrower and one to two ''beaters'', they didn''t up being much of a challenge to Cole''s vigilance and Cray''s deadly speed and accuracy with his new ''girlfriend''.


    Watching the archer pet and coo at his ''Lucy'' while retrieving his arrows from the eye sockets of two ''beaters'', Cole whispered to Orison, "Do you think the cabin hurt his brain?"


    Chuckling, the young mage responded, "I don''t recall it clearly but I think he was like that with his standard issue bow. I think I vaguely remember him asking ''Betty'' why she had to roam from soldier to soldier instead of being just ''his girl''. It disturbed me so much, I had Droya buy him one of his own.


    "It didn''t help. He had weird conversations with his new spicy ''elven mama'' too. I kind of wondered if his overly affectionate attitude towards that bow had any relation to his sudden strong interest in the elven girl he dated for real."


    Cole shared some of his acidic observations on Chosen and their weapons while Heath tried to ''tell on them''. The boy had made himself useful in surprising ways on the trip. From finding edibles to pointing out potential places to rest safely, he was like an immature and easily diverted guide. And the way he acted around Cray, it would be easy for an outsider to take the pair as father and son from a blurry eyed distance.


    Cole tried hard not to sneer as he said, "You know, he could be one of the ones who killed us."


    Orison shook his head. "I''m not even sure if he was originally one of their species much less one of their group. There''s no real telling but they shunned him from the start and he latched onto Cray like a life ring. If he was one of theirs, he was an outcast and had as much reason to avoid them as we do."


    An unfamiliar feminine voice said, "No need to guess. I can tell you what that child once was."

 219 The Fool 24

    "E Shama!" the boy said before taking off at a run to the east.


    Cray caught him and wrestled with the struggling kid til Heath tilted his head as if hearing a voice. After that, he was still excited but willing to walk while tugging at Cray''s hand trying to get him to hurry.


    The voice said, "He was my familiar, one of the last awakened animals of this forest and one of the last of his kind, in truth. Neither what he was nor who I was is of much importance anymore. Granted a form that the world does not permit to be a familiar, he was released from our bond.


    "You look for a place to winter? I have little need of mine save for its inner sanctum. If you will respect its border and allow it to remain sealed, you may pass your wait within the shelter of my abode. Long ago have the defilers learned to not trespass into my domain and I have no fondness for the nearly mindless savages of the north despite my occasional allowance of a hunting party to help keep the number of wildlife balanced on my land."


    Unknowingly, the crew with little goal in mind but to find a safe shelter near the northern pass, had been lead on an intersection course for Heath''s original home. Orison checked the map and found that there was an unlabeled historical site with a red ''X'' through it to denote that it wasn''t safe. Along with a circle that came very close to overlapping with the burrow where the cabin had been, he noted that tribal haunts made a very wide crescent of sporadic dots around its northern and western circumference.


    It was hard to use the map with great accuracy but guessed that they were already quite near the center once he oriented himself. With self loathing, he handed the map to Cray. If he could, he would have skinned the original cartographer. He wanted to slap the original Al for not paying more attention to the creepy scout master of the man''s youth as well.


    To say that the mysterious voice belonged to a territorial individual would be an understatement. The circle of avoidance was roughly a one and a half day''s journey in radius. Considering the relatively up-to-date nature of a map intended to keep track of potential tribal ''food'', he had no doubts that if the mysterious voice meant them harm, they were already within its grasp.


    The voice said no more and seemed content to let them decide, however. There was no way Heath would tolerate going anywhere else without a fight and Cray expressed doubt of malicious intent. Cole and Orison weren''t quite as easygoing but with little better options available and less reason to argue otherwise, the group finished traveling to the destination Heath had subconsciously herded them.


    Close to where a couple of trees had grown at an awkward angle, missing some foliage and branches on one side, he had the group stand on a cleared piece stone slab buried into the dirt. A tingling itchy sensation ran over them and the area around them seemed to take on a soft, indistinct edge. There was a sense of some great looming thing. And as they looked up, the late evening sun illuminated a colossal chunk of intricately sculpted stone stuck into the ground.


    The general shape of it was similar to a well balanced top. As if some child of terrifyingly large proportion had stepped on and broken their toy, it lay fractured and forgotten, left outside to the ravages of nature and time. Orison would have took more time to admire the view but Heath had a patience befitting his age.


    They reached a portion of spiraling walkway that had broken off, leaving a moderately challenging rock climbing puzzle. Heath, having climbed it many times before in another form, had no sense of danger as he attempted and almost lethally failed to traverse it. Seeing the look of sad confusion on the boy''s face, the young mage noted it wasn''t until that moment the boy realized there were some unpleasant trade-offs for becoming a ''people''.


    It took a few minutes and all the magic the world would let him siphon without globs of sticky inert essence to deal with but Orison managed to repair the spiral path enough to safely traverse the first obstacle. Next came a rubble blocked alcove with a child sized space close to the top. With some manual effort, the group managed to move enough for them to squeeze through at the cost of arm weariness joining the legs from a day''s long walk.


    As they walked in, the material of the short tunnel made a slow transition from rough, impact fractured rock to smooth, undamaged surface. The young mage couldn''t get his spirit sense past more than a superficial layer of it but realized that there was some process of essence cycling involved in a slow and continuous mending process. Refined a multitude of times over by magic, the outer stone shell had taken on some resistance to it.


    Such a feature didn''t seem unintentional at all. Fluctuations and the attraction of inert essence both within and without would slow and be trapped within, creating an even greater layer of protection. The dark ''marrow'' that ran through the stone would be forcefully reintegrated with life, spirit and magic essence to act as a mending agent to counteract exposed weak parts of the structure in a perpetual loop.


    "Ingenious," Orison muttered.


    Cole looked at him oddly and said, "Out of some self hating need to torture myself with details I''d be better off not knowing, are you possibly one of Hunter''s family members?"


    The young mage chuckled. "No. Well, by marriage eventually, maybe. Our souls might be cut from the same kind of cloth, though. Give him some time and survivable learning experiences. He''ll be alright."


    The feline young man muttered, "Releasing an idiot into the wild is hardly a ''survivable'' learning experience."


    Spinning sharply, the young mage pinned Cole under blazing soul augmented eyes. "This is far from an amusement park world. If a three month taste of the darker shades of gray leaves him wanting more, I''m going to cut him loose. If he''s had enough, I pull the ripcord on his parachute. I neither have the patience nor ability to save him from himself unless he WANTS to be saved.


    "We are all treading water here. Trying to keep a flailing person from drowning will do us all in. You know it and I know it. It''s harsh and maybe even a touch cruel but considering how eager you were to remove his soul mark from you, spare me the judgment."


    With a tortured face, Cole replied just over an audible whisper, "I don''t get it either, okay? I''m all for sink or swim learning. I just feel, I don''t know, made to care. I don''t want to.


    "The force that brought me to him is gone. I can''t feel his thoughts beating against me but... Still, he''s not hard enough. He''ll get hard but THOSE hands will have a say in what he''s like after he gets there. I can feel it sinking into him... and me. It''s disgusting."


    Orison decided to take look. Ignoring Cole''s flinch, he inspected the lock between soul connections to see a small spot of dark stain on it. A tug from the other side was building in strength. In another few hours, it would be possible for them to break his lock and the other side''s main goal seemed far from just reestablishing a spy camera.


    Taking a peek past the lock to get an idea of what was going on from the other end, a force latched onto his intent and yanked hard. To keep from becoming what he had threatened ''Silent Beauty'' with, he instinctively reached for his key. With the added aid, his body went with the soul that was being reeled through to the other side.


    Orison landed in a summoning circle right next to a fiendish entity. The young mage had no time to respond except his costly defensive maneuver. He went 2D cut-out as a hand reached towards where his heart would have been. With little option to preserve what essence he had available, Orison cut off the enormous flow of reserves to his ''void walking'' ability, taking the fiend''s hand with it.


    With brain racing at lightning speed, he went for bluff. With pain and surprise painted on the fiendish face, Orison''s eyes blazed with spiritual potency. He locked eyes with the entity''s glowing red ones and pushed intent for all he was worth.


    "Go home," The young mage growled with false bravado.


    Fortunately for him, he was dealing with a mid ranking devil and not a demon. Any stronger and it would have called the bluff. If it had been a demon or some other Abyssal Denizen, it would have attacked as an instinct. Instead, an inborn cautiousness catalyzed by pain and the minor amount of influence Orison''s will was able to leverage against it, had the devil scurrying back to its hellish abode with hateful eyes promising vengeance.


    The young mage didn''t even have a chance to assess the situation before horridly powerful intent slammed into him with nearly physical force. Supernaturally compelled to turn and face his aggressor, Orison was taking in the sight of a grotesque bat-like thing that somewhat made him think of Portia when she was in the mood to fight. No sooner had the thought finished registering, the billowing portion of his over robe wrapped around him as a magic that smelled of dry desert sand hit it, reducing it to dust.


    Orison reached out to call on the impressions of his astral friends but was interrupted by a force seizing onto his heart. The devilish bat person in front of him was making a grasping gesture at the open air. His inner space tried to draw the curse-like energy in but it was stronger and the enemy faster. With a physical yank of its clawed hand, the young mage hurtled uncontrollably towards it, barely keeping his sluggishly beating and dangerously tight squeezed heart in his chest from the counter pull of his space.


    Once again relying on his innate ability, Orison went ''void man'' for a split second to land on the thing''s hand and a portion of its head. A chunk bitten out of both as the young mage cut the flow, little more than fumes left, he knelt at the falling thing''s side. Trying all he could to fight off the sudden weakness, he cycled what remained of the stored essence in his flesh.


    Reaching for the storage pin fixed to the remaining tatters of his robe near the throat area, he pulled out a standard pencil, breaking it in half as he dug out the creature''s heart. A stinging heat spread across his back but didn''t penetrate the suit as he slid the splintered pencil home into the black heart in his hands. Turning around, he saw Hunter looking at him in a pure, anguished hatred.


    "You killed my teacher!" the young black man said.


    Orison sighed as he batted a second Fire Bolt from hitting his helmet, taking some minor burns to his hand beneath the suit. "He''s alive and well in front of you. It just seems you''re too thick to learn the lesson I''m teaching."


    The young mage pointed down at the spot where Hunter stood. With spirit sight already at full capacity, it took less than a second to see that the control glyph and the sacrifice circle were masked to look like the other. With a minor pull, Orison raised the false layer so that Hunter could physically see the one underneath.


    "If it hadn''t been me, that devil would have ripped Cole''s soul right out of his body through you and you would have been the second course," he informed the budding wizard.


    Backing away from the circle he was standing in with reflexive fear and slowly dawning horror, Hunter said, "It was supposed to be a familiar contract circle. My teach- that man was going to pay the ''small price'' to finish the proceedings. I was supposed to finally get a loyal companion who wouldn''t abandon me or shut me out. It was always going to be on... my side."


    Doing his best to keep his rage in check, Orison said, "Well, now you know. You and Cole were going to be offered as a set package for something that thing wanted."


    Orison turned around when spirit sight showed him that the enemy he had been dueling, almost completely regenerated. Moving like the gates of hell itself had cracked open nearby, he closed it... with several blows of a machete and every option he had available to mince the corpse and feed the remains into a brazier stoked with a generous dash of cooking fuel.


    When a billow of noxious fumes rose from the crisping corpse pieces, he whipped out the lich''s soul storing orb and pulled a snotty glob of corrupted spirit essence from it. "F***er, why won''t you die already!"


    The young mage cast a held healing that he spread over himself and Hunter, using the spirit essence in a wasteful over-application until the tough, coreless essence finally unraveled and began dissipating. With a shake he dumped the filthy remaining essence back over the brazier which turned a cold, bale-fire blue before returning to normal.


    The young mage sneered. "After all that, our princess is still in another castle."


    Pointing the power of his phantom key at the flames within the brazier, he tried to call the soul''s main part into it unsuccessfully. Under Hunter''s numb gaze, Orison dragged the wide and heavy brazier over to the sacrifice portion of the circle and predesignated himself as the ''summoned creature'', trying again to exercise the power of the key. With a loud pop, a severed pinky finger appeared and sizzled in the flames before another billow of nasty tried to rise from it.


    "You have got to be sh*tting me!" the young mage cursed in frustration. Latching onto that spiritual force as belonging to him, he drew one last time as the key wobbled in dangerous instability alongside the orb''s collecting power. A delirious and fog eyed ''Snow White'' staggered into the ritual space with a wand raised high only to collapse as a chuck of gen studded metal ripped from her head and hurtled over, smashing the soul collecting orb.


    Orison grabbed the phylactery and dragged it into his space where it was instinctively pulled into the chaotic part he couldn''t view. For a moment, nothing happened but then he started struggling for control of his own body as a will locked onto his nearby soul, fighting against the corroding essence spitting from it. He blanked.


    It couldn''t have been for long considering how little he''d recovered but ''Snow White'' was at the control sigil, demanding him to obey. "What do you want, then?"


    An arrogant smirk spread across her face as she ordered him to praise her, call her mistress and say quite a few other embarrassing things. All the while, Hunter looked on in shock and humor. Then, she demanded another bottle of Doc Agave and the secret of how Hunter had been turned into a dhampir.


    Feeling that enough of some kind of supernatural debt had accumulated, he resisted the impulse to obey and walked over to the portion of the circle where he''d stamped his true name thoughtlessly, careful not to look at it. With relish, he erased it and was released from the binding geas. With the backlash, he made her strip and do ballet while singing "I''m A Little Tea Pot''. With the last bit of debt, he made her forget his true name as he was compelled to at least hand over one of the precious few bottles of the supernatural tequila he had left.


    Snapping back to, mortal offense tattooed across her face, she redressed and went to rush away when he said, "You might want to stay and explain before I decide that all this is a breach of our agreement and truly go apocalyptic on this place. I''m already struggling to give you the benefit of doubt that you were trying to help me and was just having a little bit of extortion fun at the end there."


    While she stammered, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A black gem that had dislodged from the large spellbook sitting on the pedestal was in the process of trying to covertly warp itself back into its setting. His key, letting out subtle whines of weakened distress, noticed it through him and set on it like a starving person on a basket of potato wedges. It spit the weak soul remnants and core out as it cracked the gem open like an egg and slurped up the traces of whatever it was after.


    Seeing where his eye was drawn, she forgot decorum and dove after the large grimoire. Key nearby, he had it rise to the book and flash it to his hands. Flicking away the core drawing near with the last scraps of its stubborn soul''s intent like an annoying but slow mosquito, he flipped through the fat book. After ripping out several pages about phylactery making and improperly labeled ''demonology'', tossing them into the brazier, he handed the remaining book to Hunter.


    Looking positively predatory, the woman said, "What have you done!?"

 220 The Fool 25

    Personal desire won over dubious approval of one of the objects of his affection as the budding wizard bound the book. With a huff of displaced air, it was no longer to be seen. The young black man''s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out by the time she had reached him.


    Turning back on Orison, her eyes bloodshot and not nearly as attractive as usual, she said as she stalked towards him, "You vandalize it and now you give it away as if it were yours! What agreement? You''ve clearly broken it after killing our grandsire!"


    Eyes blazing like a sun kissed ocean, the young mage responded, "Is that the position you wish to take? A few sweet words and he''ll hold it while turning the damn pages for you but if you want to see our agreement as being broken... He won''t be here for you and your father to twist around your fingers til you get what you want.


    "The thing I killed was going to sacrifice Hunter to a devil along with Cole. It was going to steal your body and kick your a** to the astral curb. Choose your next words carefully. My goodwill is... used... up."


    On the verge of attacking him, ''Snow White'' arrested mid pounce as ''Silent Beauty'' sauntered in with her son. After looking around, she dismissed her son and granddaughter with a wave of her hand. The sheer command presence exuded a palpable force as she approached Orison.


    Once her family was out of view, however, she veered past him to the brazier that was still crackling and sputtering out the occasional blue spark. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she bowed her head and a single scarlet tear fell down her face. Afterwards, her face twisted into a mask of pure hatred. With a gesture, the fire within the brazier blazed so hotly that the basin sagged and took on a dangerous reddish orange glow towards the center.


    The soul core that had been meandering over to where Hunter rested defenselessly, slipped into the astral plane without so much as a pause. The very last stubborn vestige of soul hiding in the depths of agony granting coal could no longer withstand its dissolution. Orison thought it was a waste. The last bit of remaining soul wouldn''t have been able to put up much of a fight but it would have given the young wizard a good scare, possibly a little magic know-how once Hunter defeated it.


    Silent Beauty reached out a sliver of spiritual intent that Orison readily met with his own. "He is to be the bearer of my late husband''s grimoire?"


    Orison nodded and mentally responded, "And there is plenty of time for him to share whatever of its contents you and your family require."


    She nodded. "You are either a far more generous soul than I or you are weary from your battle and wisely err on the side of caution. In either event, you have earned a modicum of my esteem... Do you desire to tour your defeated foe''s lair, peruse its spoils?"


    There was a seductive challenge to the offer that Orison knew better than to accept. "The only greed I harbor at the moment is a hasty return from which I came. One I will shortly be able to fulfill on my own accord. Out of curiosity, why did you lace the brazier with a lick of hellfire? You don''t strike me as a sentimentalist."


    She stared into the dying flames amid mostly consumed incense soaked coal. ??The pages you burned, one among them would have affixed itself back into the book. It would have sent Hunter''s soul as a proxy sacrifice allowing his pitiful spiritual remnants to gather within your student. I would have dispatched him with all due haste but would have had difficulty responding to your ire, I believe."


    Holding cold sweat from surfacing, the young mage regretted only giving a cursory glance at everything. His ''controlled risk'' challenge was almost a deadly gambit with a devil for Hunter. He wanted to believe it wouldn''t have ended that poorly for the budding wizard but Orison wanted to spook the young man, not traumatize him. The resulting drainage of remnant power his key had after its snack would have meant a long walk back home too.


    The young mage offered, "A favor returned, it seems. Don''t let your granddaughter hog the bottle of spirits she weaseled out of me. I can''t believe how audacious she is. Your hands must constantly be full keeping your family out of trouble."


    The bland, commonplace sympathy had unexpectedly almost undone her cool demeanor. A nearly hysterical sob of unleashed emotional relief rolled out of her before the lid went back on. "That, they are. I thought I had lost her today, lost them both really. Steeped in sin as we are, I love them no less.


    "There was a time when I adored the man and monster that enthralled me, equally. Somewhere along the way, the monster grew, the man was lost and all that love was given to my son and then to his daughter. One careless moment of inattention and my husband was awakened to roam this place once more."


    Grimly, Orison said, "How many more like him remain out there? I would have thought the greatest of threats wiped from this land."


    She slowly shook her head. "Many sleep deeply to recover their losses. Simulacrum, constructs and phylacteries still dot the darkest and most secret corners of this ruined kingdom. The most zealously guarded treasures and inner sanctums, much like this one, are still relatively in tact.


    "A silent winter war will take place for the rights to scavenge the remaining corpse of a country. The undead are resourceful and efficient, if nothing else. My family has an edge that most do not but that same edge will earn us nothing but spite and enmity. We have no choice but to prevail."


    Confused, Orison said, "What holds you here? With whatever curse that held this place, weakened and a nature that places you only half within it, why not cross the pass and leave?"


    Silent Beauty''s face was smiling sadly, a heartbreaking portrait of tragic heroism but the mental voice underneath was laughing mirthlessly. "To where? Who would have us? Should we pass the shining wall into the Illuminated Lands as it seems you plan? We would be hunted like animals by paladins.


    "To the west southwest, there are old enemies within the deep roads. Is that where you''d have us go? Naught lay there except forgotten horrors and demon lovers. Within a half year or less, they will come to raze the land and have their own hand at bone picking.


    "Perhaps you''d advise us to the south? Should we survive past the shimmering tundra where magic wreaks havoc as if possessed by fiends and the monstrosities it produces, then we must deal with another secretive kingdom of the damned. The cursed kings of the dunes have their own unique understandings of life, death and what lies between and are no allies nor friends to those who walk the same shadowed roads."


    The young mage rolled it around in his head. "Let''s get through the winter and see how it goes. The Illuminated Plains doesn''t sound like any kind of home for me and mine either. But there must be lands further still, places more accommodating. Power will always have the last word and if we show no signs of growing roots, even a zealot will think twice to borrow trouble if it is best left to pass of its own accord."


    With troubled eyes, she projected, "They hunger for grace and the favor of their god. A great shame lies within them for failing to provide a champion capable of felling The Unborn, the entropic godling that sigil ward slew at the hands of its own minions."


    The young mage''s mind whirred. "Then they will have remains and relics scattered around. Try to collect them. If worst comes to worst, you might cross their lands as penitents. In a fanatic''s mind ''act of contrition'' is the acceptable term for bribery. They aren''t of any use to us but they could act as an appeal to see the ''humanity'' in you over what they desire to see to collect their grace."


    In thought herself, Silent Beauty responded, "None of this would cloak our hellish dealings. We are tainted with the tools of our survival."


    Orison nodded. "Slay some. Find and slay some of your formal rivals. Your family aren''t the only ones steeped in the infernal. Destroy the items of their dark dealings. Soul orbs, books on fiend summoning and the like will grant karmic essence when they''re destroyed.


    "While you''re at it, go on a devil diet. No dark rituals and sacrifices mixed with the destruction of others will grant you a lessening of their taint. It''s a part of your power, true, but you and your family have plenty of classical magic at your disposal. And if you''re declaring a winter war on your former allies before they inevitably turn on you anyway, you might find a few surprisingly useful new ones.


    "I''ll let you mull that over. But the faster you get started, hit some of the heavies while they''re bleeding or whatever it is they do, the better of a snowball you''ll have to roll over the lesser holds later. Either way, boldness is your friend and this land is not one you can hold and keep without great personal sacrifice. I don''t see much around worth clinging to that hard."


    Smiling faintly, she projected, "Are you one of those surprisingly useful allies?"


    Orison laughed. "Am I not? If I were an enemy, I''d seem rather dizzy at this point, don''t you think? There''s soft hearted, gullible and just plain stupid. I kind of like playing around with being the first one every now and then to remind myself of where I came from. Anyone who makes me feel like the second one will see the very worst of me in quick order afterwards."


    The silence grew as she didn''t take the bate to ask about the third.


    Feeling that she was about to withdraw her intent, he quickly asked, "How did the Rogers boy fare your late husband''s brief visit?"


    Silent beauty looked bemused. "As soon as his charges were settled and felt reassured it wasn''t a slaughter, he volunteered to do a ''recon'' into the heart of the empire. My husband''s visit was far more brief than I think you are aware. Less than three hours.


    "A whirlwind display of power and he was taking Hunter in as a disciple after draining a malcontent among the savages. Of course, it''s all too clear why that was at this point. He owed souls or favors he was going to beg off WITH souls."


    A sudden thought occurred to him. "Please tell me that malcontent wasn''t the four year old girl. You and I can see that she''s a vicious she-alpha waiting to mature again but her outward innocence is enough to sour Rogers. Believe me. He''s worth buttering up a little... a little."


    She replied, "I have the girl separated from the rest. She''s under light control and being forced to educate herself. If he returns successful, I plan on giving them a suite to themselves. If not, I throw her back with the rest. My late husband''s brutality may have been a small tragedy but those beasts have become meek in the aftermath. That''s a good thing to come from the bad and he took that sin with him. Were this a hand of parlor cards, I would be quite pleased."


    A few more shared pleasantries and she had collected herself enough to deal with her family. Left to his own devices, Orison went to check on Hunter. In short order, he had the young man up and lucid.


    "And what have we learned today, dear student?" Orison asked with a smirk.


    Hunter frowned but gave it serious thought and said, ???Not every old man with some power that offers to be your teacher is worth learning from."


    "No, no, no. Everything and everyone has a kernel of something worth learning. Just don''t be so damn quick to drink the Kool-Aid that most people try to push with it.


    "I''m not a teacher monogamist. You have my permission to see other people. Use protection and don''t bring any educationally transmitted diseases back."


    Hunter quirked an eyebrow. "What did YOU learn?"


    Orison smiled and said, "Vampires in this world have fiendish lineage. Just because it''s a vampire doesn''t mean it can''t have a phylactery. And most importantly, a creature can technically have more than one type of phylactery at once.


    "Also, double tap isn''t sufficient and it''s not over until the soul core crosses to the other side. That''s not overly useful to you since you can''t really see them? I don''t need to know what sensitivity you may or may not be developing unless you feel like sharing."


    A little troubled, Hunter said, "Thick and thin places. Some of it has to do with whether or not a place has wards or if summoning''s been done there. I think magic traps and magically protected secret spots are going to be easy for me to find in the future."


    "A good deal of curses too, I''d wager," Orison added.


    Trying again, Hunter said, "Triple check summoning circles. I already knew that but now I understand why."


    "Not a bad one but do you know who SHOULD be doing demon and devil summoning circles?" Orison said, trying to hold a serious look.


    Hunter said, "Obviously someone with more knowledge than I have."


    Orison said, "No one!... Outside of that, a person who possesses both conjuration AND abjuration specialties along with a wealth of ritual knowledge. Your side has all the neat ''stay put, don''t come here, go home'' stuff. My side has ''agreement before arrival, limited time offer, just borrowing your stunt double'' stuff... Oh, and so it''s not so confusing in the future, lets call what I do summoning spells and this summoning rituals."


    Hunter looked at him oddly and said, "Don''t conjurers have random grab gates? Isn''t that like, ritual summoning short cut?"


    Orison snorted. "In my hands, it might as well be called the Much Gooder Planar Travel spell because the other half of that SHOULD be called the ''I don''t love myself'' spell. Random use of ''Gates'' is for people who want to die but can''t make up their mind how to do it...


    "That aside, I keep telling you because I never want you to forget. This is not an RPG. You will be unpleasantly surprised sinking too deep into the mindset that you know the rules because the rules change. The moment you think you know something pretty well, ball tag yourself because you don''t... Chew on that for awhile. I''m going back."


    Hunter had enough time to ask ''how'' before Orison looked like he climbed through Hunter''s head and popped out of Cole''s. With a quick word of warning, the young mage re-locked the feline young man''s connection. There was a low protest from his key, letting him know that it was a bad idea to use it again anytime soon. It had crap recharge rate for the time being.


    "How long have I been gone. It felt like ages but I got into a fight with a mid boss literally hellbent on being a returning cameo villain," the young mage said, letting his repressed fatigue manifest.


    Cray said, "I don''t think I quite got what ya meant there but you been out a hair shy of half an hour. Glad you''re alright."


    Cole said, still a little shook up, "Are we going to pretend that he didn''t just pop out of my head!? Orison, did you use me and Hunter like connected transporters?"


    "Only one way. A devil pulled me through and I just dragged my body along for the ride, the first time," Orison said flippantly.


    Seeing them get worked up, he cut them off and explained everything that had happened.


    "And you left him there!?" Cole said in disbelief.


    The young mage sighed and said, "I wanted him to have the book. The only way I could do that was to give them a chance to study it over the winter. Otherwise, it would have been a fight."


    Cole looked deeply disturbed. "I hope you''ll overwrite this mark soon. I think I see what you''re doing now but I was accidentally gift wrapped for a trip to eternal damnation. It''s one thing to die but..."


    The conversation would have continued but Heath, who had been as equally stunned by Orison''s disappearance, was no longer content to wait. He wanted to go see ''E Shama''. The boy lead them to a part of the floor that didn''t look any different from the dusty rest of it but a glyph lit up. The section they were standing on began to raise.


    But because of a slight tilt, a sense of fear gripped all of them when the platform shuddered. The dust acted like a non-stick surface, sliding them to an unrailed edge. Heath looked at their panic with an amused expression, letting himself slide the rest of the way, an invisible field of force stopped him from going over.


    Once they reached the top, Orison took a look around and said, "Really!?"

 221 The Fool 26

    As they neared the ''Council House'' a holograph appeared and said in a pleasant voice, "Welcome back, subject E, shaman''s familiar. Please follow the light strip for decontamination and healing."


    As soon as a track of soft yellow lights appeared on the floor, Heath took off like he was trying to catch the moment they appeared.


    They went to follow but the hologram interrupted. "Honored guests, the central building and its inner structures are prohibited. Please take leisure at the guest house... currently under construction... or enjoy fine dining at... currently under construction. While you wait for your audience, you may also utilize the exercise and recreation facility... currently under construction."


    Unable to help himself, Orison laughed. The hologram''s sensor turned towards him and the pleasantly bland woman switched for a military uniformed man. "Chief Engineer Cantrip, your presence is needed in... all red labeled zones... all amber labeled zones... all yellow labeled zones, as soon as possible."


    "He is required nowhere because access is denied to all yellow through red zones," an authoritative woman''s voice said.


    "Apologies, Custodian Ezra. Orison is an official citizen level First Family member with emergency bureaucratic authority. Your request cannot be completed," the pleasant prerecorded woman''s voice said.


    "That wasn''t a request, you stupid operating system. I thought that all but the green and blue zones were off limits," the authoritative woman''s voice said in irritation.


    The pleasant OS''s voice replied, "Apologies Custodian. Your clearance level only allows access to public and residential areas."


    An wavy black haired woman with olive skin rich and rich, brown eyes walked out of the Council house holding Heath''s hand. The boy was ridiculously happy as he pulled her over to Cray and grabbed for the archer''s hand with his free one. The man and woman looked at each other warily for a second before looking down at the boy with different shades of helpless indulgence.


    Addressing them, she said, "Since the stupid system has already introduced me and I''ve been waiting for Orison since a few days ago, who are the two of you."


    The young mage interrupted. "Introduce each other, not yourselves. I never got around to telling you about some things. I''ll need to do that soon."


    Ezra rolled her eyes but didn''t contradict. After the awkward formalities were over, she lead them to her ''apartment'' in the Council House. While everyone ordered a meal off the wall mounted screen''s menu with novel delight, she looked them all over.


    The young mage said, "Um, okay but even if I do, its not like any of us will get to enjoy it. It''ll just boot us off and go to find a ''real'' First Family member."


    She went to say something and then paused, smiling widely. "Holy sh-oot! I don''t have to a-butt kiss the First Family name anymore!? That green juice I drew from ''E'' over here actually broke the imprint!"


    She reached over and ruffled Heath''s hair. Even Cray would get an annoyed hiss for doing that but all she got was narrowed eyed tolerance. "H-heet"


    Pointing to himself, he repeated, "eye me Heet. Yoo E Shama."


    Chuckling, she pointed at the others. "Who are they?"


    He looked at her finger and then the rest of them. "Teet E Shama, Pa Kay..."


    Seeing the kid looked stumped while pointing at him, Cole had Cray tell the boy, remembering what Orison had said earlier, as Ezra smiled faintly.


    A look of embarrassed aggravation was on Cray''s face as the young mage said, "How was I supposed to know that saying it just one time would make it stick? At least part of your name is in yours. He''s pretty much calling me the candy dispensing healer."


    Ezra looked at him sharply. "You have junk food!? Gimme now!"


    Chuckling nervously, Orison handed the last few pieces out of the opened bag to her. There was another, higher quality one and a small bag of sugar but those were his treasure and he would be carefully rationing those out. He would have been more stingy but they had been preserved inside a pocket of healing mud for so long, now that they weren''t everything was half-life jumping every couple of days.


    Though he tried not to notice, Ezra had a strangely puffy panty line for a woman of her age. Digging through the pin storage item, he dumped half of the feminine products onto the table. Although it wasn''t the best of deliveries, she still scooped them up with a cheerful face.


    "You''re like an evil genie. Couldn''t you have, I don''t know, done a discrete side moment!? Either way, thank you... Where did you get them?" she said.


    "Some rusalki didn''t need them anymore. There''s not a department store nearby or anything like that, if your asking," Orison said woodenly.


    While they enjoyed their bland but nutritionally balanced meal, she talked about how systems began failing a few hundred years ago. She was the last child of a custodian and half sisters with the last adopted First Family member. To grant her access to the last functioning set of automated materialization machines, her half sister granted her the job of ''custodian'' and a comfort companion before life sustaining functions failed in her stasis pod.


    Heath and Ezra had been spending most of their time sleeping over the past 800 years or so. Heath could come and go for some reason but Ezra couldn''t leave the city''s phase field or she would dust. Orison explained that the ''Gates of Reincarnation'' should have reset her maximum reality law allotted time. That was, until she explained that she hadn''t died and been ''reborn''.


    Taking just enough time to send Heath to investigate a strange energy anomaly, she had went back into stasis. She had been determined on outlasting the undead empire and seeing people return while she was still young enough to be a part of it. When Heath had been caught in the reincarnation bomb, the city itself had intercepted and used that energy for something else even though she was compelled to draw it.


    Looking embarrassed at the looks of sympathy they were giving her, she said, "What? Do you think I''ve lost my screws since my sister passed? For me, it''s just been long enough to get over the grief, a year or so. As far as being trapped in the city... It''s all I know anyway. Besides, if you can get her up and running, I can cash in my citizen credits. There''s some stuff still left in the depository that can probably fix my little problem."


    Orison said, "Don''t lay too much hope on that. There''s a shell display over the actual inventory. When things were going south, the evacuating members took everything that the system would let them. That''s why family servants and other ''fresh blood'' integration breeders were the only people left here.


    "Did you check the logs for birthrates after the evacuation? Fertility inhibitors were placed in your food. The closer the system came to exhausting its remaining resources, the fewer people were capable of having children."


    With watery eyes, Ezra said, "Are-Are you trying to depress me to death?"


    Orison said, "No. I only want you to have realistic expectations. I''d rather you dislike me for telling the truth than hate me for telling you a lie."


    Sensing an emotional episode in the making, he added, "I''m going to go check the engineering room. I think I''ll spend the night there. Don''t follow me down, guys. Defense mechanisms are still mostly operational."


    Wandering down into the bowels of the grounded floating city, eventually he came to a sealed door. "So, do you want me to see what I can fix, or do you want me to stay out? Your clueless clone upstairs has me a bit confused."


    A tired and ancient feeling psychic signal pinged off the young mage''s own weak, reawakened talent. "Proceed but prepare yourself. If you show signs of distress or fear, my instincts may dictate my actions regardless of desire."


    Sending the command, bolts and locks unfastened and slid into their waiting position. As he walked, he passed four more ''Ezra''s in tanks along with a couple of other different men and women who shared a close family resemblance. Entering a large chamber area, within gloom two dinner plate eyes made of dark tinted indigo spirit essence stared back at him twenty feet from the floor.


    Under spirit sight, Orison took in the outline of a skeletal dragon with a pulsing purple mass of essence in its chest. "A dracolich. If Hunter was here, he''d be beside himself in awe and fawn over you like you''ve never been fawned over before."


    "In centuries past, I was worshiped as a god. Your claim has scant validity," the ancient voice said in mild remembrance of amusement.


    Orison replied, "But have any of your worshipers looked at you like you were the s*xiest damn thing they ever saw while telling you how awesome you are sheerly for the purpose of making sure YOU knew."


    The ancient psychic voice chuckled mirthlessly. "Surround yourself with fanatics and lunatics long enough and there isn''t much of the extremities of mortal possibility that you will not see. My current state does not afford me the ability to enjoy diversions of that nature any longer.


    Lowering its massive head til it was at eye level with him, the undead dragon projected, "But enough of this. Tell me what you desire to allow me to claim the horde I have guarded for centuries."


    The young mage sighed, "It would be more constructive for you to tell me what you wanted. Just because I can reach it doesn''t mean I can get it all. Any attempt to forcefully seize more than a certain amount could possibly end with the city self destructing, taking us all with it."


    The dracolich''s eyes blazed fiercely. "Then we are at an impasse. I cannot see the real... invoice of supplies. I also cannot trust you to honor any arrangement we might make to the utmost of your ability. You will steal what you want while I receive only that which you do not."


    Orison sighed and said, "Osmos Nine, I need to share current available inventory with the custodian for organizational purposes."


    A secret transmission popped up on his screen. Between the memories of his time on Osomo and the trainers information he had absorbed, it wasn''t difficult for him to whip together a simple interface ''spark'' from the few motes he had remaining with the OS''s help. The real difficulty was keeping the incoming essence transmissions and said OS from seizing and ''repairing'' them properly.


    From the interface screen, he chose what would be visible to the creature. In truth, there wasn''t much to begin with. And the few items he was most concerned about the dracolich seeing, Osmos Nine didn''t want it seeing either.


    The creature read over the list and laid back down to block the way. "There are no vials of fantasia, phoenix downs or angel tears... I will wait until this place collapses into dust and sift through it myself in a few hundred years."


    Orison said, "Thank you for telling me what you want. Trade between operating systems is atrociously expensive but the one reachable probably has one of those."


    The dracolich paused before raising up. "I want as many as you can get."


    That confused the young mage but it wasn''t as if he cared to understand the inner workings of a lich in any variety. Before he became any more distracted by errant thoughts in his tired state, he soldiered on to the ''repository''. Within was all the souls tied to the floating city and its sparks.


    The plan was to flush all those souls to Osomo in exchange for some things he wanted. Trying to use his own gifts to take as many unclaimed sparks and the few neat artifacts he could was icing on top. He was getting ready to sign the manifest and flush the souls to the shifting coordinates slate he had in his space when he paused.


    Behind him, down the hall, the dracolich was becoming agitated when it sensed his hesitation. Orison quickly explained that he may have thought of a way to get a whole lot more, even if it was just a maybe. A ''whole lot more'' sounded great to the creature who couldn''t come in anyway, no matter how agitated it got.


    He focused on the Entanglement Key. Its low hum of protest turned a bit higher pitched as Orison reached out to Wick. It might have been when ''Al'' was riding along with ''the boy'' but there was a lot more of Al''s soul stuff in there when Wick was their passenger instead of Duran''s. Since Wick was an incredibly soul sensitive entity with mysterious properties itself, he didn''t see where giving contact a solid try would hurt much of anything and that tree could play Osomo like a fiddle.


    Contact was only the lightest touch before his key became so dangerously weak, it began wavering in and out of existing. That was enough for Wick to reach back and grab hold, stabilizing their connection. The next moment, the world around Orison shredded to reveal a sadder, much more bleak one.


    He felt the edges of his pattern grow fuzzy before snapping back as himself. Wick had spared him the sight of whatever it was his soul had been physically riding around in. It must not have been pretty because a lot of the additional spiritual essence he had to burn to fuel Wick''s arrival had came from the ''real'' memories he had since he arrived on this world.


    Of course, Wick wasn''t physically there but a giant ''impression'' of the tree was. It gently and lovingly mauled the undead gathered in a circle around where the young mage stood in a overwhelmingly lethal wave of strangely neutral but undeniably pure and even ''holy'' essence. It was an exceedingly kind being that ''loved'' ALL undead to DEATH.


    While a stream of dark souls streamed towards the tree, a steady trickle of golden essence poured into Orison. As the young mage looked around desperately for sight of his companions, he saw the three standing stock still in their fully activated suits. Nearby, three smoking bodies moaned weakly. Behind the blasted remains of lesser undead a dragon made of bone gave out one last weak roar of protest before a phylactery the size of a garbage can shattered, releasing one large and many smaller souls.


    Since he had a spiritual connection with Cray, he could share the grace that he somehow knew would be able to restore the man and make him whole again but had no idea what to do about Hunter and Cole. Sensing his dilemma, the ''holy'' tree pulled the souls out of the standing suits and drew them to its real body through the impression, assuring the young mage that they''d be given a fresh start and a fighting chance elsewhere.


    From within the impression of Wick, an impression of Duran emerged. He was barely recognizable. Tall, sturdy and heroic, the man he had become showed no sign of the taciturn and unsure boy he had once been.


    "I would spare this from you if I could, as your need is great. But it is the balance and I would be doing you no favors shifting the balance of indebtedness to me," Duran said before every piece of equipment belonging to every enemy slain was either destroyed or consumed by the impression.


    Before he disappeared back into Wick, Duran added, "I have not forgotten your kindness and generosity. Nor am I under any illusion of who was responsible for it. Wick feels the same. Until we meet again, I will hold faith that your future days will become brighter, Orison."


    With a flash of gentle light, night surrounded once more but the moon was clear and the field was wide and relatively free of obstruction, save for the occasional large shard of stone or tree. The major exception being where the young mage stood. In a circle of standing stones, an ominous red veined pillar jutted towards the sky as if Hell itself was giving the finger to the loftier heavens.


    He immediately moved away from it and beyond the circle. A pervasive whisper promised anything desired. Orison had no doubt that the cost would always exceed the goods. And even then, would likely have ruinous ''side-effects''.


    Another weak, sobbing moan broke out from the smoking bodies reminding him that the situation wasn''t quite resolved yet. After piecing together what he could, the young mage felt he had pinpointed the moment things had gone disastrously wrong. When he had destroyed the overly prepared vampire lord, he had a blank spot, even within the false memories.


    Some things he knew he had done in reality. ''Snow White'' had controlled him and he had erased his true name from the circle and from her mind. He had NOT won the battle with the phylactery soul in his space. Fortunately he was ''inedible'' or his fate wouldn''t have been as kind as to find himself placed in some poor corpse''s shell. The best he could figure, the man had taken his body and then used the last vial of fantasia ''Snow White'' had taken from him to return to devilish vampire status.


    The rest was as clear as mud but one thing was certain. His companions had paid dearly for it. It was time to pick up the pieces and insure three ''friends'' found themselves IN some.

 222 The Fool 27

    Feeling heavy and heart weary, he turned to ''Snow White'' to see that Cray, moving with glacial slowness, had already taken care of with a more mundane method. Together, they moved through the remaining bodies until they had found the one that had been the residence of the young mage''s soul before it had been stolen. Surprisingly, he was able to collect and reattach his suit. The storage device pin was there as well.


    Under feeble, flickering spirit sight, his confusion over the equipment still being there was solved. he saw that the creature who had stolen his body was predictably still clinging to existence. It''s soul was still damaged from their fight and grievously unstable after having been irradiated by Wick''s light. The spiritual force the tree exuded may have been visible but was no respecter of physical barriers like suits.


    The young mage offered his exposed hand and the soul pounced at the opportunity presented, mostly empty phylactery tearing out from the burning corpse of the ''son''. There was no contest. Orison may have been deathly exhausted but his soul was relatively whole and the space that belonged to it was merely essence starved. The golden essence garnered from the destroyed phylactery and the remaining spiritual essence of the offending creature would help ease the supernatural wounds he did have.


    From the spiritual echoes of his nemesis, the young mage garnered a bit more of the story from the outside. He hadn''t stepped to Cray and Cole but had pulled his soul marked companion through the feline young man and the vampire lord had done the rest. His lovely wife had Orison weaved into a looping mirage of BS long enough for them to get anything that could be guessed that he might have, out of him.


    Hunter and Cole hadn''t suffered much. In fact, Hunter was under the same kind of Candy Land crap as Orison. With a little time, it would have been possible to redeem what had been done to the budding wizard. But all in all, it was better that he had went with Cole. The debt had been completely reversed and there was no doubt that they''d stand a much better chance at successful endeavors with Cole as the captain. The last small tick of good news was that the book was still bound to the young wizard.


    Had they wanted much of anything else, Orison would have been fully screwed. Had he been consciousness controlled in some other direction, same deal. But they wanted vials of fantasia and that put him in the frame of mind to think of Osomo. For all he knew, if they could get back to where they were in one piece, the revealed upper side of the stone ''top'' could very well be what ''Silent Beauty'' had lead him to believe it was.


    While he was taking inventory and checking the progress of his and Cray''s recovery, the young mage noticed something. It was something that pushed the dark clouds of their situation back just a little more. Being close to the standing stones, the sickly Entanglement Key that had been grossly overused to the point it nearly ceased to be, was taking in faint traces of something.


    Bolstering the conduit''s own efforts to recover with his tired will, Orison was able to see a little more clearly that the key was pulling some kind of substance from the dimensionally distorted space around the ominous stone. Not only was the key minutely restoring but the distortion was weakening, smoothing out. Whatever mysterious force lay behind the creation and use of the Hellish obelisk, its what empowered and strengthened his conduit.


    The Entanglement Key was so much different than the Dannan, keystone or the silver key had been. It was so much more picky about its construction and fuel but it was also a great deal more intimate with him, an extension rather than a separate but connected thing. It suddenly dawned on him. He had made a conduit purely with the power and strength of his own uniqueness, his own soul stuff and power.


    At first, he couldn''t figure out how or why but then it made sense. While in the fragile state of becoming what he was, bits and pieces of shaken loose soul and his void connected gifts had intuitively created it to keep that stuff from going to waste. He couldn''t be certain but he thought it might have something to do with ''The Star'' card that Hunter drew. If so, ''wisdom at great personal loss'' may have turned out to be one of the best cards in the deck.


    Seeing the gossamer trails the archer''s soul was ''bleeding'' while it recovered, Orison said, "Cray, your soul is in a state of looseness while it heals. There are wisps escaping the envelope of your aura. Some of it are probably things you might not like having much, like the memories of the last day or so. Instead of letting it go to waste by releasing it, try pulling it into a familiar shape. Imbue that shape with all your understandings of it, the symbol and ability of that shape."


    The archer sat down and lapsed into a deep trance sleep almost immediately. "Great. I gave you a reason to take a nap in the middle of a battlefield. Not all of these guys died. Some of them were pulled back to their contingency plan safe-houses and whatnot. The state we''re in, we are not in any shape to deal with anymore surprises."


    He urged his key to finish its feeding as quickly as it safely could. The fuzzy edges of the phantom key bulged as it drew harder, taking a comical shape in defiance of their grim situation. Within moments, the standing stones took on a decrepit and ancient feeling devoid of the majority of its ominous aura.


    Robbed of the mysterious force that created it, the angry red veins of the center standing stone receded before it collapsed into a pile of sand. If only briefly, the sudden reversal of world will pressure that had suppressed the stone from jutting higher and becoming a much more dangerous object of a different kind, reversed. An essence phenomenon formed that looked as if the sky was flipping off the pile of sand back for all its years of mocking obscenity.


    A minute trickle of ''white gold'' essence joined the rest. It lay with him for only enough time for it to register he had it before it exchanged itself for something else. At the very lowest, base portion of his conjuring concepts, an understanding formed. It was a feather''s tickle, an appetite wetting sample of creation law.


    "See, that right there is the reason I don''t go to strip clubs, Deshawn. The ''world will'' just c*ck teased me and then ran off so that I''ll whip out the ''hero'' wallet and spend all my hard earned life trying to get another taste only to go ''home'' at the end broke and still unsatisfied.


    "And is the world will at fault? No, it''s got troubles. It needs people to whip out those heroes and ''make it rain'' so that it can survive." Orison said, disgruntled.


    Despite his colorful self pep talk to distract himself from the horror of it all, the speck of law understanding represented a king''s ransom of wealth in converted benefit. It held only one small idea but that was a game changing one. He cut off the sharing of golden essence to Cray and threw a tiny speck of it into a heal request cast at the world.


    Unlike before, not only did it not fizzle, like any other conjuration Orison could cast with the world''s help, a model warped into being and showered Cray in a gentle dusting of will shaped life essence. The tiny speck of gold and touch of magic had coaxed the world into providing nearly ten seconds worth of expensive and exhausting healing that auto directed itself to crucial areas. It also erased the hidden nastiness bad wounds tended to leave behind.


    "I take it all back. The ''world will'' is like a respectable young woman who wants to be wooed extra hard to ensure the man who came to court her is sincere. She just gets carried away a little bit." he muttered, feeling slightly relieved and more than slightly unhinged.


    Squeezing the vestige of stamina within his newly remade muscles, the young mage picked up Cray on spaghetti legs and noodle arms and put some distance between them and the ''battlefield''. Trying to find a place to hide long enough to get some real strength and energy back into himself, the young mage managed to find a crack to hide them in. He also found an enraged badger that might have killed him if he didn''t have the suit with the state he was in.


    With one last world assisted healing to help along the process of converting the last of Cray''s partly necrotic flesh into fully living and operational, Orison ''locked'' the cramped crack. It would do little more than make it hard for the undead to sense them but that was plenty useful enough to down the last soldier in his grim fight against rest. He attempted to shift into a light trance but ended up cleanly passed out.


    When he came to, he was being carried by a spaghetti legged and noodle armed Cray. The man almost collapse right there on the spot when Orison asked to be let down. Orison''s dead nemesis had apparently disdained much that had been in the pin but two bars of special rations remained inside along with one unopened bottle of Doc Agave. Taking one out, he split it in half and handed it over along with a triple shot.


    Grimly, Orison said, "Not the time to be holding back. We need to get as good as we can, as fast as we can. It''ll be a little too much on the stamina gain but eat that entire half. Our bodies are running on fumes."


    Cray nodded silently and deactivated his helmet. It was gruesome. They had tortured the man to death before turning him in a way that would keep his soul locked into his corpse. The best that Orison could figure, they had done it when they discovered that no one else could use his suit and the suit wouldn''t activate without his soul.


    It was beyond what a heal could do. And after the world''s tiny law revelation, the young mage couldn''t bring himself to rip up ''big money'' just to use as cut sealer. A little bit of study would turn the small puddle of gold essence into an ocean of good rather than just an extra toe or eye. That didn''t mean he had no plans to help the steadfast friend of his in desperate need.


    Once the bar was finished off and the shot taken, the young mage focused on the dormant key that was still a little bloated. He attempted to augment a heal with the entanglement power to ''draw'' back some of what was missing. It worked but the remedy was just as bad as the torture that caused it, probably worse. It seemed that it would only work when the archer was awake and assisting the call with his own will. Orison was glad the man knew what was going on or he might have cleanly severed the goodwill they had. It used up a good portion of what the bar and super liquor had put in Cray. It also hadn''t done a whole lot off the meager two casts that the archer could tolerate before whimpering out for the young mage to stop.


    After a brief rest, they were on their way again. Trouble didn''t cross their path often. The remaining threats were busy licking wounds and raiding fallen comrades'' holdings to concern themselves with two dangerously prickly fugitives for the moment. The few times they did run into opposition on their way to the vampire''s stronghold, Orison''s two astral friends came in to save the day but it became obvious that they were catching onto the rules. The young mage''s loss of golden essence for calling them out quickly became more than the slayed minions were worth.


    All the posturing and dramatic flair finding its way into their fights meant that his days of using them for anything but the gravest of emergencies had came. The wickedness dancing behind their eyes meant that relying on them would be little less dangerous than calling on a devil. They were by no means corrupted or truly evil but the opportunistic spirit at their hearts was no longer repressed by whatever meager gratitude they had originally felt.


    When the two weary companions had finally made it to the vampire''s holding, it had already been sacked and its inhabitants moved on. It was fortunate that there weren''t as many intelligent undead as there had been before or they might have found themselves facing another harrowing conflict. The holding itself hadn''t produced enough greed or envy for the dwindled number of undead to covet it.


    With a little tweaking, the healing spell had turned into a sell one to buy two golden mote exchange on the lingering ghostly and skeletal threats that roamed the halls. Cray hadn''t been a shuffling cohort on the trip himself and had garnered a few grains of gold as well. It surprised the young mage that Cray hadn''t been aware of the small karmic bounty garnered.


    Then it dawned on him. He was a tier four existence, on the same playing field as a demigod. He could see and interact with karmic forces because he had become sensitive to their existence. They had always been there, invisible and only occasionally felt. Not that being a tier four alone was enough. Possessing a true name and decent power of existence garnered from ''climbing'' had their part to be acknowledged as well.


    They didn''t dare to linger too long. The holdings were nice enough that once a new power balance was achieved, some entity or another would come knocking to claim the prime real estate. Using scraps of spiritual echoes, the young mage found a few hidden caches that did little but replace a fraction of what had been stolen from him and give them a couple of magical aces to throw. The biggest haul of the whole house was intangibly gained tearing down the devil shrine and his key ''slurp breaking'' its ritual summoning circle.


    Having recovered some of the nutritional bars, Orison split another between them, giving the lion''s share to Cray before torture healing the man some more. The second go round, they had some painkillers that the young mage wouldn''t want to make a habit of using but allowed a little more recovery to happen before the archer tapped out to rest again. With what allowable time they gave themselves, they both did before resuming an early winter march north.


    A few grueling days later, they were both heart sick weary and pretty much tired all the time but Cray had reached a point where Orison could look at his face without needing to resist the urge to wince. His soul had garnered enough time to study the etheric echoes of ''magics past'' to piece together a mount spell along with the return of ''Create Water''. With a little more effort, he had a functioning ''create nutritional hoof glue'' spell as well.


    "I''m telling you, Cray. The world SHOULD be taking that golden mote away for making this stuff. Not because it deserves payment but because forcing another living thing to eat it is evil," Orison said as he shoveled another spoonful as far back past his tongue as he could without gagging.


    The archer shrugged and said, "Beats boot leather and bark soup. I''ll eat stink bugs first."


    Struck with a bright idea, the young mage cast a new function of Presto he discovered at it and tried again. "Okay... As long as I can choke it down quick, I can almost pretend it''s a decent oatmeal. I could probably pull off cream of wheat or cottage cheese too."


    Cray grunted, a habit he''d picked up while he couldn''t talk. Orison didn''t particularly like it. It wasn''t so much the sound itself but the edge of taciturn gruffness, a kind of callousness the archer had taken in and had become a part of him.


    Feeling the weight of the weariness keenly, the young mage asked, "Do you regret answering the call of the card that summoned you?"


    "Right now? Yeah." the archer answered without hesitation.


    Orison felt like the answer had aged him years.

 223 The Fool 28

    Trying to find some hidden corner of himself to pull up a kernel of will not to sit down and give up, Orison said, "Speaking of which, I know things have been going slow with the restoration but we''re past the hardest parts. How''s the cabin thing going?"


    The archer replied, "It''s still real fuzzy but I can sort of feel it. Couldn''t tell ya how long it''s got left but I can''t pull it out yet."


    The young mage said, "I feel like there''s a dirty joke in there somewhere but I''m too tired to find it."


    Snorting, Cray said, "I''m too tired to laugh, even if it was a funny one."


    "It''s easy to be too tired to laugh but I''m too tired to cry," Orison said.


    A ghost of a smirk was on Cray''s face as he said, "Well, I wouldn''t know. I''m too tired to tell the difference."


    One last night of roughing it and a quick cast of Presto while braving the cold to remove nearly a week of constant funk buildup and they were making their way back to ''Top Rock''.


    Orison noticed Cray''s complex face as they rode up to the entrance. "Alright. First of all, Heath hasn''t been a people for that long and I don''t think our guest is one to make an issue of someone''s superficial appearance. A few light scars and uneven skin tones aren''t going to make him or HER freak out. Second, I only need the winter to get my understandings consolidated before I work on fixing up the delicate bits."


    Cray looked back to him on the smoky, phantom-like horse and said, "You think I''m... I ain''t got no mood to get in a fuss about that. What''s got me antsy is if we''ll still be welcomed here and if it''s safe. Things haven''t exactly gone without a hitch since we got here, ya know."


    In the air around them, a strong and sure woman''s voice said, "There is nothing but appreciation for your dedication in cleaning up a small but critical mistake, Theurge Cantrip . And I have always had a soft place in my heart for tragic heroes, Wild Talent Cray."


    Puzzled, Cray said, "Thank ya kindly, mam. But I don''t rightly know what that means."


    Orison said, "I find myself a little puzzled over your choice of titles as well. But if you''re saying we''re still welcomed to winter here, it''s far more pleasant than what I''d be willing to be called. This place has an awful lot of humidity in the air for this time of year. I bet the snow gets ridiculous."


    The circle of standing stones they had appeared in was alarming until he felt the peaceful hum passing through them. Without distortion and optical illusion, the diameter of the surface was little more than a mile. Wailing face carvings lined the circumference, looking at the world around them in horrified bewilderment. It was a sentiment that Orison could deeply empathize with.


    A near total western quarter of the surface had a large pond with a floating orb that dropped a steady stream into it. On the eastern side there was a stone structure built over the dividing creek that emptied into a gaping hole not too far beyond. Skirting the pond to the north and south were an assortment of wild growing vegetation with berry bushes and fruit trees dotting either side of the creek bank, studded with two squat but sturdy stone bridges.


    The southern side, where they stood, held little else aside from the standing stone circle and an ill kept surrounding park. Were it not for self maintaining stone paths, its original purpose would have been lost on the observer. The benefit was that there was a small assortment of wild game with no fear of people.


    "Winter here will be more mild but the seasons are observed to some degree. If you are done gawking at your humble surroundings, perhaps you''d care to join me and Heath at the Sky Hall?" the woman''s voice floated through the air with a touch of amusement.


    While the woman''s voice had been speaking, orison had been looking around with spirit sight at full strength. "Fancy being the father of a dryad child?"


    Cray, who was about to step out of the circle stopped and looked at the young mage in confusion.


    Orison said, "Tree spirit fey that can have offspring with people. As far as I know, they only have other dryads, though. I think the price of our wintering here is to help with that."


    The woman''s voice laughed. "I can see what you see. How did you reach such a conclusion?"


    The young mage said tiredly, "For some reason, I''m bad with illusion magic. I''m starting to think it''s for the same reason that creation magic comes to me a great deal more easily. The difference between reality and illusion is a sliding scale not a ''black or white'' thing. At least, that''s my understanding of it.


    "I''ll subconsciously choose to accept what I see instead of trying to fight free. As a compensation, I see bits and pieces of potentially hidden real world knowledge pulled in to bolster the illusion instead of breaking it. Can I just pretend that you were going to find a good time to bring it up and give us a choice rather than uglier alternatives?"


    The confidence in the woman''s voice wavered. " I... yes. I have no desire for conflict."


    The young mage nodded and said, "Then by the old ways, I request guest rights, Custodian Ezra."


    With a sigh, Ezra responded, "Partake of the flora bounty of my land, not its fauna. And by this, I know you as tree friend to my grove."


    Immediately hearing the long view trap in the statement, Orison looked at Cray and said, "Sorry, buddy. It looks like fresh game''s not on the menu unless you want to travel nearly two days and into tribal territory to hunt."


    He chewed on a shriveled but sweet persimmon and tossed another to the archer. Cray didn''t seem to be a fan.


    When asked why, the archer responded, "Lots of persimmon trees around the old homestead. Ma would use it in everything from marinades to filling for sweet dumplings over the winter. Strange thing is, I still like blackberries and we had a lot of them too."


    As they walked closer to the ancient structure of the temple, Orison caught a fish surfacing to grab a bug of some kind in the creek. "With the idea of not playing word games and looking for loopholes, would you object to Cray being allowed to fish? It''s not a bounty of your ''land'' but I would prefer we honor the spirit over the letter of your request and our desire to keep the peace and our safety, if that''s something you''d dislike."


    Cray looked at Orison with some gratitude but the young mage was focused on the spirit sight outline of Heath eating within the temple. The voice of Ezra consented with a faint tinge of frustration. Around that time, a bird mysteriously chose that moment to land and hop around in a daze close to the boy, distracting him from his meal. Getting resentfully upset, Orison rushed over the bridge and shouted for Heath, announcing their presence.


    "Teet E Shama!.. Pa Kay?" the boy said as he ran out and all but tackled and began trying to climb Cray.


    With a saintly smile, Orison walked in to face the naked woman standing near a bare apple tree. "Well, since Heath is the bridge of our friendship, I''ll take it that the boy has long ago learned what is and isn''t acceptable behavior in your sanctuary and learn by his example. After all, I doubt you''d risk the consequences of playing guest rights false by manipulating the one present who is both guest AND fostered child of your care."


    A complex gaze ghosted across her face.


    "What troubles you," the young mage asked sympathetically.


    Ezra said, "The longing for winter sleep weighs on my tree. I know not how it is done but Hazel has learned how to keep the winter vigil now that Yew is no longer among us. Were either of you willing to end my lifetime of barren loneliness, even a mere season will be denied. I desired to have one of you for my Hamadryad."


    Orison pondered and said, "Were one willing, would there be a problem with your releasing of them come spring?"


    He could sense her attempt to lie. The old ways may be the only rules the wild fey would follow but they were bound by them even more so because of that.


    Sullenly, she said, "Such an invitation is difficult to relinquish. Instinct and desire rule us. Years may pass before my ardor would cool enough for sentimental thought."


    The young mage thought on it and said, "There is a father of two friends wandering the lands south of us. I wanted to see if he was still alive after everything that has happened. I have a device that can point to where he is and a way to boost that signal to reach him but it has no way to communicate. Would your spirit speech be able to ride that connection?


    "His youth has been restored and he''s a girl crazy guy devoid of potential targets for his amorous intent. If you''re willing to give it a shot, he might be a potential taker on a more long term offer... Were I not setting my sights on another and have no current desire to delay my journey..."


    Ezra said, "That woman you have mistaken for your estranged paramour? She was not your... Lily."


    Cray, who had been avoiding entering what sounded like an awkward conversation to be involved in, openly wore the shocked confusion Orison was suppressing.


    The young mage said, "One issue at a time."


    With a subtle eagerness devoid of all but the slightest touch of hope, she attempted to spiritually piggyback Orison''s key amplified tracker signal. After nearly ten seconds of silence, he was about to cut off the flow when Ezra sent a quick request for him to ''stay fast''. When it reached twenty seconds, he complained that he wasn''t a ''damn cellphone service''. As his key started to ''slim down'', he gave a curt ten second warning.


    He got the subtle hint that if it wasn''t for guest rights being established, she may have threatened bodily harm to remain connected. For the plethora of other things that he had spied while her spiritual consciousness was occupied, he believed her capable of just about anything. Pushing down the horror over what he had seen and just how dangerous the seemingly peaceful situation had been, he plastered a pleasant expression on his face once she was forced to finish.


    Up close to her as he currently was, Orison could see the shine of insanity dancing behind the recently renewed, ancient apple tree spirit''s eyes. He pretended not to see her fight urges to enslave or kill him as she prepared herself for the arrival of a more convenient and willing mate. The worst part about the whole thing was how he couldn''t so much as breathe a warning to Cray or point out how Heath was all over the barely alive Hazelnut Tree, giving the apple tree a wide skirting as he scampered around.


    With a pleasant smile hiding barely contained hostility, Ezra said, "Green but sweet and possessing a bold heart. Yes, the Rogers half-man will serve my needs for many years. In gratitude, allow me to inform you of the deceitful one''s playing of your sympathies to rob you of your precious seed bearing sap and affections."


    There was little of value in what she had to say. Most of it seemed to be designed as an attempt to twist affections towards herself. An impossible task without supernatural attack as Cray wasn''t quite as ''innocent'' to a maiden''s cruelty as he was to their affections. As for the young mage, he was trying to keep from thinking too loud about how a female dracolich would have a better shot at winning him over.


    It did give him something to ponder, however. The unknown woman had made two brief appearances in his life. Both times were major turning points in life preservation opportunities. And even though her appearance may have been under some kind of disguise, she hadn''t really lied to them. It was his own misconceptions that he felt she may not have had any control over dispelling.


    As he and Cray went to prepare one of the stone structures for a desperately needed night of relaxing coma, He laid out to himself and Cray what he did know. "So, she has a strong presence of existence, experiencing many ''steps'' on her climb. I believe that she is either a really powerful tier four on the edge of becoming tier five or she is very early into the ''land god'' tier that five represents. I don''t think that the story she told was a lie nor do I believe that she lied about taking our marks to find us again once she ''re-birthed''."


    Cray gave him an odd look. "I can''t quite figure you. This is a girl we both like. Shouldn''t you, I don''t know, be trying to weasel me out of the picture?... You know, I didn''t like her because I thought she was a ''Lily'' in the first place. I just met her. I''m thinking maybe I like the real her just a tad more than you."


    With a weak smile, Orison said, "Does that mean you''d try to weasel ME out of the picture if you could?"


    Frustration and conflicted emotions etched themselves onto the archer''s weary face. "Damn it all! I should if I could! It''s what any sane man in my shoes would do and hardly a soul would blame me... but no... How can I? You ain''t been nothing but kind and generous and noble and all that other stuff that would make me feel like a turd for doing it.


    "Tell me how you can just swallow this down without nary a ripple on your pond. I''m supposed to be the easygoing one, ain''t I? Maybe hearing how you can deal with this when you''re a jittery box of thumbtacks on everything else will help me. It must sound dumb to you that I can walk away from a girl I crossed the world for without much of a fight but not let this go.


    "I was killed and brought back. I was broken and put back together a few times now. I''ve been tortured and turned undead and who knows what else I might have forgotten. To all that, I can just say ''Ain''t that just the way it goes?'' But this one thing here is where I can''t stop worrying it, like a toothache."


    Orison said, "It''s lots of reasons but I need a little courage to say it all raw without the window dressing. I got a bottle of the ''Fuzz Buzz'' with me. That''s the peach flavored ''mess you up'' we had before. Do you think you could handle having a couple shots of that before I do this... It''s kind of a bad habit but it helped ''the boy'' and Gan get through conversations that were a lot harder."


    Cray said, "You don''t think I don''t want to be three sheets before having this out? I just don''t know if I can keep my eyes open long enough if I was."


    "Then, I''ll make it quick," the young mage said before slamming a few right from the bottle and handing it over.


    After the sweet but sharp after fumes and stomach burn died down, he said, "Like I said before. I think, feel and prefer looking like a human man. That''s what I know and it feels right to me but under that I know that what I''m really supposed to be is whatever helps me survive. I think that makes me a little more soft around the edges of what I can accept when it comes to friendship, love and stuff like that.


    "Closer to the surface and deeper underneath, I don''t know if I''m strong enough to do this climbing thing on my own. I think I''m scared to death of waking up without anyone and having to face the horror of a cruel and uncaring vastness of existence all by myself. That doesn''t mean that I''d be fine with just anybody, though.


    "I can accept the craziness of this because it''s you. You''re someone I know inside and out that pretty much knows me the same way. And somehow, we still like each other. It''s kind of strange that we skipped the years worth of slowly working our way past the cracks of each other''s defenses, to have something that only ''once in a lifetime'' best friends usually have but there it is."


    Cray snorted, "You know, we actually have known each other for years. I just don''t think you thought much of me way back when. I think I was just one a your charity cases. But to me, you were a person I thought hung the moon."


    Orison said, "I was only a part of the person you knew then. The go-getter that you admired wasn''t even me. I was the softy in the back telling him to be more cautious and to be nicer and more forgiving and all that...


    "If he knew you like I do, I''m pretty sure he''d have regretted not pulling you into his inner circle. But you know what? It''s his loss and I''m glad you''re here. Well, I''m not so glad that either one of us is HERE but you know what I mean."


    The archer took a couple of swigs before handing the bottle back and laid down on his pallet. "I think some of the better parts of that other guy rubbed off on you, then... It don''t feel so bad to know I''m appreciated for a change. I tell ya that much."

 224 The Fool 29

    Cray boldly stated, "It''s three, maybe four but my woman''s always gonna come first."


    Orison smirked, "If you have the discipline to keep her coming first for a lifetime, I can''t imagine how devoted of a wife she''ll be."


    The archer narrowed his eye in mock anger and said, "Did you just turn my deep and true declaration into a dirty joke?"


    With innocence plastered on his face like warpaint, the young mage replied in Cray''s country twang, "Why, I don''t rightly know what you''re talking about, sir. You know, guilt breeds suspicion."


    After some back and forth bantering and horseplay, Orison exited the magic heating rock lined soaking pool. Finishing up his business in the ''big bathroom house'', he returned to his magic echo studying while Cray went to try out his new pole and tackle. Sounding mildly flustered and excited, Ezra''s voice cut through the young mage''s concentration to ask him to fetch ''Dustin''. Sighing, he went after telling Cray. The archer wanted to go with but Orison explained that it would defeat the purpose since he was only acting as a reusable ''Summon Mount'' anyway.


    As the young mage passed through the standing stone transport device, he felt the slight tug trying to make him appear elsewhere but pretended like he didn''t feel a thing or knew what it meant. He could sense Ezra''s intent following and watching him like a hawk. She hadn''t missed the subtle shift of energies but he highly doubted she was that clear about it. Even if she was, the other tug was too weak to accomplish anything on its own and Orison was learning how to be a good actor.


    After leaving the mound and phasing back fully into the world, he felt as if a giant boulder had been lifted off of his ability to ''see'' the echoes. He hadn''t come anywhere near the limit the world had set. It was just much harder to sense them half phased out of sync.


    The relief he expected to feel not being so close to the monster whose tree had grown roots into a mound of bodies among other atrocities, was nonexistent. Cray and little Heath were still there and very much in harm''s way. On his phantom horseback journey, he combed through ways to let Rogers know what was going on and hoped he could bring the guy on board.


    The young mage''s eyesight cleared. Before him were two familiar faces. One of those two faces made him feel very nervous about what had transpired or what was about to. The irritatingly handsome dhampir intoned some formal language the young mage didn''t understand while Rogers look at him with bland apathy.


    The dhampir said, "I have all the answers we need but are there any you''d like to ask before I un-summon him, Dustin? Have a care. Forgetting his true name only buys so much."


    On the verge of exploding in rage, Orison said, "Any additional costs will be leveraged against destroying all recordings of my true name you know of or ever see BEFORE you can use them."


    The dhampir said, "Noted... Understand, that as far as I am concerned, we are allies and there is no need for further conflict. I could tell you why in exchange for more questions of my own?"


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "That volunteered piece of information might have just saved your life. Share your reasons later or keep them to yourself. We are on a short time table."


    Looking bored, Dustin said, "You''re not in any position to give threats... I don''t care WHY you thought it was a good idea to serve my a** up on a platter to a man eating monster. What I want to know is what were you going to give me in exchange for selling me out as distraction bait, rescue plan in place or not."


    Orison shrugged. "I''d have to know what was up for grabs before I could tell you that. But so we''re not playing stupid forty question games until Ezra snatches up my friend for a winter long snuggle fest, I swear that it would be a fair share. For the very little but extremely fun risk you would have been subjected to, I assure you that even if it was a crap shoot, I would have made up the difference some other way."


    The dhampir cut in, "Word play might be involved but there was no lie. He doesn''t get debt with lies."


    "Why me instead of your friend, if it was so fun and low risk?" Dustin asked.


    The young mage held in his sigh under the tense situation. "Whether you were the happy-go-lucky kind hearted womanizer you seemed to be or a shrewd and cunning actor, you were better suited to play bait than Cray and I can''t do it. I''m needed to extract whatever resources might still be hiding in the center of that place. "My hopes aren''t that high, by the way. But there has to be a couple of good things still in its vault or the entity that sacrificed itself to make it possible to reach, wouldn''t have been able to justify it. Supernatural debts are unforgiving, apparently."


    Rogers said, "So, either I was girl crazy enough I wouldn''t care or smart enough to play pretend until you could get me out. Is that what you''re saying?"


    Orison smiled and said, "Mostly. Agreement or not, I have something for you."


    After taking a few things out and putting some in, Orison tossed out the spacial device pin. The dhampir looked like he was about to give a warning but stopped and looked at the young mage in horror when he realized all he could move was his eyes for the three seconds it took for Dustin to pick up the pin and look inside.


    While Dustin''s eyes teared up at the sight of his sister''s belongings, Orison walked over and erased his true name from the circle. Walking out, he threw an arm around the dhampir''s shoulder. Once Rogers had recovered enough to look up towards the dhampir and noticed the young mage''s buddy pose with the annoyingly handsome guy, he realized they were no longer in control.


    Letting out a sigh that was equal parts relief and grief, Orison said, "It was a bold move to finagle whatever process you used to convert my body into materials for yours. I assume you did it because your father had claimed it and all that? What he didn''t know and what I''ve only recently figured out, is that a body pretty much built from karma, grace or whatever you want to call it, always belongs to the person who earned it.


    He smiled at the man and added, "It can be stolen but claiming it back is just a thought. Now, what are you offering me to keep from claiming it back?"


    "Service until the debt is resolved," the dhampir said.


    Orison said, "I don''t want yo-"


    Dustin leveled a caster pistol at Orison''s head and said, "I may not know how this crap works but I know I can tell you to f*** off and if you do, I''m pretty sure this stupidity will be put on pause long enough for us to work something else out."


    "Sit down, shut up and let the adults finish talking, junior. I planned on giving those to you as a gesture of friendship. But since you want to play loose and dirty with my free will, consider this just desserts," Orison said, letting his anger shine through.


    As soon as supernatural geas made Dustin do as he was told, the young mage turned back towards the dhampir. In a spitfire session, he understood why the dhampir not only bore him no grudges but actually owed him for all that he''d done. With some fairly tight knitted oaths on the very grace that the body possessed, Orison released control of it and passed over its ownership.


    In a quick breakdown, the young mage explained the original plan. Out of picante, he told the dhampir about his plans to give his family a leg up in crossing the shining wall until everyone had turned out to be devious a**holes. He also warned Dustin about ''Silent Beauty''s prediction on the invasion she had seen coming in the spring.


    "Well, Stefen Rosu, you''re free to go do whatever it is you want to do that doesn''t involve screwing with me. Dustin, are you coming with or are you bouncing?" Orison said, ignoring a deep tension running underneath the surface.


    Rogers said disgruntled, "I don''t know if I can trust you and this plan relies on that a whole lot. You seem to have a much rosier outlook on everything that went down with me but let me tell you my side. While I was unable to defend myself, you threw me out to get mind r*ped by Stefen''s sister/daughter-"


    The dhampir interjected, "My father was inhabiting me at the time. I had no say in it, either ''it''."


    Rogers shot him an irritated look and continued, "After that, you freed us but lead us into their trap and walked away before you and your buddy could suffer with everyone else. Then, you use the tracker I gave you to set me up on a date with a batsh*t crazy apple tree. The fact you''re delusional enough to see things as all peachy on your end, scares the sh*t out of me."


    Pushing rage back down, Orison said, "I tossed you outside because you were a reincarnation bomb... I didn''t lead you to a damn thing, Mr ''I''ll do what needs done''. And as for the last, I sure did. You know why and what you stand to gain but if you''re not interested, then YOU f*** off."


    While it looked like returning from where he came was Dustin''s plan, Stefen said, "I''ll do it. I''m in need of resources and believe you to be an honorable man. It might not go as smoothly but a slight improvisation should suffice."


    Dustin looked at the dhampir in disbelief, "Hey! I didn''t say I wasn''t going to do it. I was just trying to test the waters a little"


    Orison turned to the Rogers man and said, "I don''t know if I can trust you and this plan relies on that a whole lot."


    Dustin shot an annoyed look at Orison''s smirking face, "Yeah, right... Bravo Foxtrot move there, Stefen."


    Playing innocent, the dhampir smiled guilelessly and said, "You didn''t seem interested. I was only ready to seize the opportunity you were turning down... What is a Bravo Foxtrot move?"


    While the Rogers man, still awfully young looking but not as much as he had by a year or two, explained the colorful military term for a person who sabotages their friends, Orison prepared to leave with whichever of them was coming along. Dustin was in. Willing to throw a few potential gains away for a semblance of safety net, Orison involved Stefen in a plan ''B'' scenario.


    As the young mage and Dustin crossed back into the insane apple tree''s range, Orison said, "Sorry about that, Ezra. I was happy to see him alive and well. Since you don''t have much time til you''ll be hibernating with my friend here, we shared a cup to celebrate ahead of time so our farewells can be shorter later."


    Dustin added, "It''s been ages since I had a drink of one of Avalon''s signature limited issue beverages. I hope you won''t be mad, sweetheart."


    "If libations is an unsatisfied craving, then you must try my cider," Ezra sent, as if she weren''t a powder keg of suspicion ready to explode.


    "Oh, honey. I''m more interested in a taste of that sweet apple pie," the youthful Rogers man said shamelessly.


    Ezra wasn''t the only one speechless.


    After taking a moment to scrub his brain, Orison said, "We''ve discussed it and I''d like to bring it up with Cray as well. Should Dustin winter well with you, we aren''t jealous men by nature. Would you be interested in sharing your affections with the three of us?"


    Scandalized, Ezra said, "I have yet to know the touch of one man! I do not know what sort of creature you take me for but we dryads remain devoted with our loves til death."


    With an apologetic air, Orison added, "It wasn''t a statement meant to question your honor or integrity. It was an offer of intent. With Dustin as the more virtuous and empathetic, I believed he would be more suited to the affections of a maiden whereas Cray and I bear a more... mature craving. Because we are men who pride our selflessness, we only offer to grant Dustin ease if you should desire a bolder and fuller flavor of life in the spring."


    Silence lapsed for some time before she returned a sending to say, "Your dear friend Cray offers a more pragmatic view on your generosity. Being that there is a woman whose shadow weighs on both of your hearts, he opines that perhaps I am to be a test of your wills to share a woman without envy."


    Orison said, "There is truth in it but don''t be mistaken about intent. The woman in question is seeking elsewhere to be reborn and is to be a love story of another life entirely. We have no desire to pine away this one without love or comfort."


    Slightly frustrated, Ezra said, "Then why all this trouble to bring a suitor from afar? Are YOU a maiden in need of wooing!?"


    With a hint of devilishness, the young mage said, "Would it not be exciting to reverse the roles if it is only for sport and the prize guaranteed? I would be coy as you pursue and capture to ravish me among the spring blossoms. And if a game came to bore, Cray and I could mock battle for your amusement and pleasure, perhaps please you together if tenderness is what you craved."


    On cue, Dustin cut in, "Don''t leave me out! For this to work, she would need to love us all equally. No matter how hard WE try, if she played favorites, eventually we''d fight to the death to have her for ourselves."


    Drumming up a touch of anger by evoking old memories, Orison said bitterly, "After you had her to yourself all winter, we''d need to include you in our springtime? How is that fair?"


    Somewhat ignoring Ezra''s sputtering, they continued their play.


    In a tone of reconcile, Dustin said, "It is only the first winter. In her times of rest, we need to put her needs first, just as you put her needs first when you knew me to be the better choice for the beginning. After all, I am the better and more experienced lover."


    Orison didn''t have to feign his irritation to respond to the ad-lib statement. "Just as there are more than one season, there are more than one way to love someone. You may be better at one but to claim to be master of them all in general!?... If she will give us a chance come spring, then we can ask her! Is your reputation and boast nothing but exaggeration?"


    By the time they had reached the ''Top'', the riding pair and a few well timed earnest comments from Cray had Ezra so scandalized, embarrassed and intrigued that Orison started feeling guilty. That feeling was fleeting when he thought of the mound of ancient children''s bones and dead trees with souls chained to them. The one and only other living dryad was so ensorceled and controlled, she was little better than a puppet almost incapable of independent thought.


    Clearing away distracting thoughts, Orison brought himself back to focus. While Dustin piled the charm so high it almost made him nauseous, the young mage pretended to envy while Cray added legitimacy by actually being faintly jealous. Eventually, stretched as thin as exhaustion, temper and temptation would allow, Ezra ''swallowed'' the bait into her tree.


    At the same moment, Hazel woke up and stared at the proceedings with empty eyes. It could have just been Orison''s imagination. But when Heath rushed up to the woman wreathed in hair and bejeweled with eyes of warm greenish browns, he thought he saw a flicker of distant affection and kindness within.


    Speaking cold words that didn''t belong to the warm voice who spoke them, the woman said, "While Ezra takes her winter''s rest, it is best that only one of you leaves at a time. The chance of being mistaken for enemies is too great otherwise and the wailing men that border this place will make short work of eliminating such a threat."


    Cray frowned but Orison smiled and gave his ready compliance. It was tough but he shunted the archer''s voiced concerns and played the same relaxation game for another couple of days. It was tough watching Heath grow despondent over Hazel''s lack of attention.


    Towards the middle of the second day, Heath came running up to Orison who felt close to completing another useful magic. At first, he was going to try to bribe the boy but Heath wasn''t in any mood for a ''teet''. There was legitimate distress.


    Teary eyed and sporting a deeply scratched hand that was freely dripping blood, Heath said, "Elu... Elu E Shama, Teet E Shama!"

 225 The Fool 30

    It didn''t take long to see how the boy had gotten hurt. When he reached out to see if there was anything he could do to lessen the dryad''s misery, she swiped at him with small but razor sharp nails that left superficial cuts on his suit. Feeling a power building on her, he had no doubts that a second attempt would have dire consequences and the over robe hadn''t fully regrown out for very long. There was nothing to do but lead the confused and crying boy away.


    There was a part of him that wanted to take the distraction opportunity up to enact their plan a little faster but felt a trap in it. However, a trap can easily turn into an opportunity of its own. Either way, Orison saw a chance to get things done easier than ever. It would highly depend on how he could take advantage of the event.


    Once things had calmed down and Hazel would allow them back into the Sky Hall, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to ease your suffering?"


    Once again, with a warm voice she delivered cold words. "Any attempts to touch me or my tree while I''m recovering will be seen as an act of violence. I will respond with that assumption."


    Sighing, the young mage said, "Then would you allow me to see if there are any items of use where the invaders were struck down?"


    She said, "No. There is little to gain from desperate and hungry goblinoid tribesmen save for the corpses which belong to the bone collector by agreement."


    Looking out, Orison gawked at what he saw. A wingless serpentine dragon the size of a tour bus was scurrying into the distance.


    Feeling a little faint, the young mage muttered, "That was out there the whole time?"


    Hazel responded, "Yes. And over the winter, you may see this land''s other... creature of agreement."


    He thought to himself, "Well, that complicates the hell out of things."


    "So, they''re a resident of this land. Then, I''d like to speak with them," he said, more to fish for information than any real desire.


    Hazel replied, "They reside in the inner sanctum which is denied to you."


    Orison pushed, "Then, I would settle for speaking with this other creature of agreement."


    "They also reside in the inner sanctum," she said but added as an after thought, "Once they are done with their meal, they may come for a visit."


    "What was all the fuss over? All a sudden, the fish laid at the bottom of the pond and wouldn''t stir for nothing," the archer said.


    "It was a bugbear hunting party raid, I think. Hazel isn''t that free with details... On the up side, we might have an unknown creature visiting us after their lunch." the young mage said.


    Cray offered, "Well, it''d be nice to see a fresh face trudging around. Not even a week in and I''m feeling a little cooped up."


    Orison looked at him and saw a deep spark of intellect running its own course. It made him wonder if he had been underestimating another one of his companions again. It suddenly dawned on the young mage that Cray had been more worried about their host than him when they returned. He found himself wondering if he understood the man as much as he thought he did.


    On the off chance that the person they were going to meet might be someone that first impressions could matter about, the two got cleaned up. Heath didn''t join them as he shuffled around looking hurt and lost. The young mage was starting to seriously consider the boy''s past.


    He gathered that Heath might very well have been a shaman''s nature familiar but he doubted that the boy''s previous form had been bonded to Ezra. It was plain as day that Heath was deeply emotionally attached to Hazel and the old girl just wasn''t herself on any level. It seemed that with guests around, the crazy apple tree had tightened the reigns to max power.


    "It feels strange to be anticipating another person this much but I can''t deny that I am," Orison said.


    The archer replied, "I think that with all the the ''other'' strangeness, maybe we''re hoping to run into somebody geared towards the middle ground but I ain''t holding my breath on this one."


    When the ''person'' in question finally did show up, Cray just looked confused but not overly surprised. Orison, on the other hand, felt just shy of outright terrified. It took everything the young mage had to greet the newcomer with a neutral but friendly face.


    Looking for something to complement, Orison said, "I like the robe. It''s very fashion... forward."


    Before them, at the ring of standing stones was a relatively tall and slender octopus headed person.


    In a mental voice so smoothly delivered a mundane person might miss the difference, the creature said, "Up until today, I''d say it was made out of the finest leather available in these wild and accursed lands but I would have to reevaluate."


    Doing his best to jump in and be social in spite of the oddness the mind flayer represented, Cray said, "All them motley squares and patches, are you a traveling storyteller?"


    The creature was so stunned by the absurdity of such a question, they experienced a rare moment of genuine mirth and mentally projected, "I do, in fact, have many entertaining stories. Perhaps I should consider the possibilities within such a profession."


    In an odd moment, Orison fell into a kind of flashback feeling. It was a lingering sentimentality of the ''Al'' he''d once been. He never really got many visitors to his apartment nor did he mingle much but he had a strange compulsive habit. When meeting a potential friend for the first time, he''d give them something of his own he''d thought they''d appreciate.


    The young mage delved into his inner space and pulled out the two heads of the dhampirs he''d twisted off. Originally, he had kept them with the thought of experimenting to see if he could figure out some clues on the originating point for psionics within the physical mind. He''d been so mentally preoccupied with other things and had completely forgotten about them until he saw the brain eating monster.


    He was fairly certain after some initial spirit sight scans that he''d need specialized equipment to really be able to do the digging he wanted to. He realized that the ''keeping them on ice'' idea with degree shift and his space''s semi stasis effect on objects within still wouldn''t likely be enough to ''keep'' them viable for much longer. Since that was the case, he offered them to the creature.


    "We''ve managed to put together a pretty decent tea but I don''t really know enough about your potential physiology to know if you''d enjoy that kind of leisure thing. Have these instead. By normal standards it would seem to be a fairly inappropriate-" the young mage said before he was compelled by a flinching instinct to jerk away when the creature grabbed them.


    Immediately, the mind flayer shoved ''Silent Beauty''s head under the tentacles that covered the most inhuman feature on the creature''s face. "Pardon my ill manners after your gracious gesture... It has been some time since I have been able to receive a properly nutritious meal... You are a quite surprising pair.


    "Cray, is it? Please allow me to inform you that it is refreshing to be received with friendly curiosity but if you ever see another like myself, run or kill them quickly. Your mind would be quite the prized delicacy.


    "Orison, I believe. Your thoughtful gesture may provide you a moment of consideration among my kind. I believe that it wouldn''t take long for hard, ingrained habits to make a mockery of it. If you meet one such as myself in the future, I wouldn''t suggest being affable. Assume hostility because if hungry, you are food. If not, you are a slave to be acquired.


    "Overall my race is vain, cruel and consider all other intelligent life as livestock and lesser beings. Ones such as myself are an oddity and are considered abominations. My host lives on as a dominate part of myself and I''m not quite sure how it happened but I have no connection to the mother of my hive. The two coincidences combined allow me to think beyond the boundaries of our directives."


    Leading the creature to their fixed up crash pad, Orison asked, "How did you end up here?"


    The mind flayer replied, "As an outcast slated for death, I escaped the shadowed roads to the land above. It seems I may have chosen the direction of my escape poorly. As for my presence here, I was assaulted by the wailing men idols that line this place. I survived only for that destructive force to direct me to either submit or die. It''s... not so bad to be a part of a collective of sorts.


    "It''s not perfect or even ''good'' but it does provide. We live in an unequal but tolerable symbiosis. Look around. It''s quite a comfortable life for misfits with nowhere else they can go, don''t you think?"


    Cray smiled and said, "Sounds like something an old military recruiter might say."


    The creature shook its head. "I do not believe you to misfits or outcasts. There are plenty of places for you to go. Many things that I have seen and experienced have convinced me that the natural predilection of my kind to think of ourselves as superior is based off of some nebulous inevitable outcome of all existence. In that environment our kind IS superior but we are ill suited for this time.


    "Ah... It is difficult not to assume some statements are in direct reference to myself. No, I do not believe that you should stay here IF you desire to be elsewhere. I may have been confused that you were asking to become like myself."


    Orison said, "You are a wealth of knowledge and experience. If you''re not inclined to turn on us or see us as a food source, It would be mutually beneficial for us to share. Are you open to the possibility?"


    "More than... Intelligent creatures of any kind crave community and the dryads ¡­ are busy. Our carrion eating wyrm isn''t... equipped with the capacity for deeper intellectual communication. I believe the wailing men may have targeted the poor creature''s head." the mind flayer said.


    The young mage smiled and engaged the creature for all it was conversationally worth. Two more days passed as he tried to get the most out of their unique exchange. The creature was delighted to exercise its ''superior'' knowledge and insights which were far more beneficial to Cray that Orison but the young mage did begin to understand his small innate talent better.


    Minor telekinetic and telepathic applications of his feeble gift smoothed out into something reliable. Coincidentally, their talks gave him a huge leap in tackling the most useful of all the divination type magics he could sense in the echoes, ''Tongues''. Cray''s elusive and specialized applications of psionics experienced some improvements as well but the two companions weren''t the only ones to benefit.


    Not knowing exactly how to feel about it but reasoning that ''fair was fair'', Orison aided the creature in developing the ability to create a crystalline type ''familiar''. After he shared insights into conjuring that delved into the psionic spectrum to a minor degree, the mind flayer latched on to some kind of inspiration that resulted in its creation. Fortunately ''Snow White''s head was readily available because the process had left the creature drained and ravenous.


    Unfortunately, all things had a limit. To preserve his health, the creature spent most of its time in stasis within the inner sanctum. They only emerged when there was food to be had or the place required their special talents to neutralize a threat.


    When Hazel told the mind flayer that their time for socializing was almost over, Orison saw an opportunity. "Ezra said to ''respect'' the border of the inner sanctum and to not tamper with its seal. May I escort our new found friend to their rest? I''m perfectly capable of ''respecting'' it long enough to observe a small social gesture."


    Hazel went silent for a time and Orison could feel a faint stirring of awareness within the apple tree. "Since you and your companion are potential long term guests, Ezra has decided it would be best if you were to develop friendly relations with the inhabitants. Xaxtoctl, are Orison''s overtures of friendship welcomed and can you control your cravings long enough for his visit to your abode to remain...safe?"


    The mind flayer gave the young mage a piercing stare and said, "Yes, on both counts."


    With a wink to the creature he hoped was a universal sign for ''play along'', Orison coaxed Heath into pestering him for a candy by making a display of having one himself as they walked to the standing stone transport.


    Acting exasperated, the young mage said in a humorously agitated tone, "Cray, could you come over here and get Heath? I doubt that our new friend wants an untamed wild child pilfering through all of his things."


    After a halfhearted attempt to call the boy over that was thwarted by Orison rustling the wrapper of the candy in his hand, the archer made his way over to grab the boy. With a perfectly set up scene, Hazel was caught in a quandary that didn''t seem important enough to bother Ezra with but was definitely something she didn''t like. To solve her minor dilemma, she cut power to the transporter and watched the scene unfold.


    The young mage smirked internally. As soon as Cray grabbed onto Heath, Orison powered the transporter himself and took them to the destination it was set for. Immediately, Hazel reached out to find them and was only irritated that all of them were in the mind flayer''s abode.


    Hazel said, there seems to have been a surge. The transport will be unable to operate for a few minutes. I want all three of you back here as soon as it is or I will consider you in breach of guest rights.


    Orison replied, "We will definitely be out of your inner sanctum in the few minutes you''ve given but if you insist on treating us like prisoners by threatening us to return to a specific place within your power, I will consider YOU in breach of guest rights. Within those rights is the ability to leave unharmed, in case you weren''t aware."


    A dreamy and unfocused voice of Ezra cut in, "Do not forget about your friend who is with me."


    The young mage sighed. "Cray and Heath were dragged into a surged jump. They didn''t even intend to come. In a few minutes, we''ll be out of the sanctum with no harm done to the seal... Did you have some form of treachery in mind? I thought we had become closer than that."


    Unable to focus or think clearly in her semi hibernating state while ''entertaining'' Dustin, she wasn''t at her full crazy cunning. "The wailing men are set to eliminate anything more than a single humanoid wandering our territory. As a guest, you have been warned. Til spring you asked asylum and it has been granted."


    Whatever else she had meant to say was cut off. Those sensitive to psychic emanations got a mouthful of emotional dog food as a strong wave of ''enjoyment'' permeated the air before the crazy apple tree spirit could no longer hold onto focus.


    The mind flayer shuddered and said, "I never expected to feel that feeling again. I don''t particularly miss it but it isn''t unpleasant."


    Cray, the newbie wild talent, was a little less indifferent but hid it all except for a pink tinge in his cheeks and the edges of his ears.


    Orison chuckled and turned to the mind flayer after giving the candy to Heath. "Sorry about all the ruckus."


    Catching onto the oddness of the situation, the creature said, "Should I be concerned that I aided you in doing something that will harm me?"


    "Not at all... Purely hypothetical, would you prefer to stay on this world if it meant being some other sentient species or would you prefer to be what you are on another world?" the young mage asked.


    "Too many variables unaddressed to be a valid choice over what I know and understand of my situation now. So, neither. Please don''t make me stun you," the creature said with emotionless eyes.


    Orison said, "Keep your channel open and I''ll feed you information as I work."


    The building ominous psychic resonance in the air dimmed and the creature said, "Every instinct says that I''m making a mistake but the voice of my host is loud enough to evoke my curiosity. Proceed."


    Right at that moment, the serpentine wingless dragon came barreling into the room with teeth bared and ready to destroy. Pieces of goblinoid flesh dangling like warning flags of what was to come. For a moment, it looked like the mind flayer was going to help them but it turned out wishful thinking as the creature quickly stepped out of the way.

 226 The Fool 31

    Uncomfortably up close, Orison could see that the wingless dragon wasn''t so much serpentine as millipede-like. He knew exactly why the mind flayer had called it and what would have happened if the young mage hadn''t decided on transparency about his plan. It wasn''t full transparency but it was easy to keep other potential rewards a secret when there wasn''t any kind of idea what they may be or even if there were any.


    Being that he didn''t have much time and seeing, after sharing a few words, that the gentle giant was childlike and rather innocent acting, he asked the same question to the dragon blooded millipede looking creature. "If you could, would you rather be as you are now on another world or would you want to be a different creature altogether to stay here?"


    "I could be something else if I stayed? I don''t like being so big and hungry all the time. I have to sleep so much because there isn''t enough food for me." the creature said sadly.


    "What would you want to be?" Orison asked, trying not to laugh when the situation was so serious.


    The creature had a lightning strike scar running down the side of its fearsome segmented and hook jawed face that very well could indicate it had been brain damaged by an attack of some kind.


    "Something small... but-not-weak... that didn''t need a whole lot of food!" the draconic millipede said.


    Cray looked like he really wanted to say something but could feel Hazel''s slightly weaker signature attempting to monitor them. The archer sighed and put his trust into whatever it was that Orison was doing. There was a slight warning in his eyes that promised retribution if it would bring more pain, however. It was an understandable fear.


    With a reassuring pat on the archer''s back, Orison drew on the Entanglement Key and allowed himself to be drawn to the place that kept weakly trying to pull him every time he used the transporter. Not knowing if it would do any good or not, Orison left a summoned dog behind with his mental and spiritual signature radiating off of it as he slipped through the connection. Upon arrival, he was glad his helmet was up.


    There was next to no room to move around as ''living stone'' had slowly breached and enclosed all but the centralized areas of the ''core room'' of the ancient floating city. The pressure was nearly unbearable and without the suit, he would have been in dire straits from that alone. He was almost certain that trying to breath whatever gas was within would have been deadly as well.


    No other action could be taken beyond that because that required a First Family approval but that was the ''advantage'' that had been left for Orison to take ''advantage'' of. Ezra''s interest and invitation to the young mage and his entourage was likely half due to the sudden request by the system for its custodian to do so. He had no desire to dissect the further actions and reasoning of an insane dryad beyond that.


    Getting busy making the most out of his opportunity, he found that it wasn''t much. Material wise, there was little of practical nature left but there were a few replacement parts and emergency spark reserves that had him feeling that the trip had been worth it. In a spitfire session that was less negotiation and more rewards combing, he made his difficult decisions within the few seconds of time he had allowed himself. Having set the course, he initiated.


    In a period of less than thirty seconds that felt like a nerve wracking lifetime, a series of events unfolded rapidly. The emergency reserve fired up and pushed an inter-dimensional communication through to Osomo. Verification received and rewards exchanged, the rest of the programmed actions took place.


    Unable to fly any longer, the floating city used a ''test'' jump to the pit at the center of the undead empire and laid waste to it while ''testing'' remaining defensive systems. Many other ''tests'' were performed as well, resulting in several ''acquisitions''. Most of that was completely out of Orison''s hands but would be of benefit to others later.


    Complete chaos erupted ''topside''. Ezra was threatening to kill Dustin only to be warned by Osmos Nine that any hostile action outside of self defense would result in the stripping of custodian privileges and probable ''termination''. Savage ''people'' and terrified rusalki were reeling as they took in their new surprise environment. A stone storehouse above ruptured and spilled forth a variety of relatively minor magical items worth grabbing but not worth storing in the limited space of the rewards vault.


    Orison merely focused on the undead murder and infernal device destruction karma gains as the wailing men rained cleansing beams of oblivion around them. Almost offhandedly, Orison stuffed the few ''rewards'' he was allowed into his space. Subconsciously, he was aware that his key soaked in some of the mysterious essence it craved as stress to local dimensional space and a slew of broken devil summoning spots released trace amounts in a collective moderate abundance.


    Having finished its tests and amassing a hill of assets, the remaining power worked through the ancient and barely functioning system to lock onto Osomo''s signal. In an implosion of displaced air followed by an moderately explosive expulsion of additional compressed air, the heart of the undead empire resembled little more than a wasteland of dirt and scrap. Those few souls not making a trip with the floating city to their new low-dimensional home couldn''t appreciate the scene as they appeared at the hidden transport pad within the stony, forest bordered plane to the north.


    While Dustin shared an emotional moment with his restored sister and cousin, Orison put up a hand requesting a hold on others'' desire to have confusion settled. Finding the person he was looking for, he walked over to the woman looking blankly at the portable trainer device in her hand. The young mage gave her a moment as he reached out with a specialized, one-time use communication device. It took using the key as a booster to reach his target but he managed to connect long enough to give a ''we are here'' signal.


    As softly and sympathetically as he could, Orison approached the woman. "I know that you are probably very confused right now and the memories you have are granted more than made by yourself but they WERE made by the life that you lived. I''m certain that the device responsible doesn''t hold all of those life''s memories but I''ve summoned a person capable of helping you recover them."


    Filled with the ultimate form of displaced and disoriented confusion a soul could possibly possess, the woman looked at Orison and said, "Why?"


    The question was so loaded with meaning, the young mage had no way of addressing it all in the short time he assumed it would take to get an answering presence to his summons.


    Unable to satisfy her concerns, he addressed the biggest ''why'' that pertained to him. "A long time ago, I and the other I was a part of gained a seemingly small but incredibly important inheritance from you. So much time had passed since you had departed from the world of the living, your only request was to have some of your remains scattered under a sky that wasn''t Osomo''s.


    "It''s a sad fact that we failed to honor that request due to complications that were beyond our control. Being that your simple request couldn''t be honored, I elected to take it a step further when I was presented this opportunity. I freed your soul from Osomo to live again under another sky. Since that was your previous life''s dearest wish, I hope that you can forgive us for failing your simple one."


    In a small puff of displaced air, Daniel arrived. His sudden presence put several up into arms until Orison waved them down.


    The ancient young man said, "I don''t know what you want but know that I am not free to help you with much beyond what I''m personally capable of. My path of comprehensions isn''t overly centered on great power in the material world either. I-"


    The man''s words cut off as he took in the sight of the woman that stood near Orison, looking back at him with a fuzzy kind of confused recognition. To say that the man''s feelings were complex about her would have been an understatement but one thing was undeniable. He loved her in every way it was conceivable for one soul to care about another."


    Daniel released the woman when she complained in a soft but terrified voice that he was hurting her. The ancient young man looked at Orison for answers as he tried to repress his own emotional pain from her protest.


    The young mage said, "Her memories are only the fabricated ones that Osomo retained of her life. AS you well know, that infernal device rips souls of every scrap it can before it recycles them. She''s not a climber anymore either. So, if your special water can help her with recalling her memories, it might change her climbing course. But it shouldn''t damage any potential because there is none to speak of, at the moment."


    Seeing that they were gearing up for an emotional discussion that had nothing to do with him, the young mage turned to other concerns. "Here you go, Dustin. This is a triangular masterpiece of spacial holding magical tech and your other share of goodies is stored inside it. I''ll let you sift through that and return to you in a moment once you figure out what some of what''s inside there means."


    He cut off questions from the Rogers ''man'' and his family to check in with his two ''peeps''. "Hey, Heath. That hazelnut sapling you''re staring at is, uh, E Shama... I guess is what you call her."


    The boy looked at the small tree with a strong vital force hiding inside of it.


    Pointing at the sapling with a confused gaze, he looked back up at Orison dubiously and said, "E Shama?"


    Making widening gestures with his hands the boy said insistently, "Elu... Elu E Shama!"


    Sensing an upcoming pestering of epic proportions, Orison drew a snow flake, a drop of water, a sun with rays shining down and shifted over a semi frozen leaf with some oranges and reds still visible within onto the dirt.


    As he drew circles around them, he said, "Time... Time will heal your E Shama. She''s not hurt, she''s just little. She needs to grow."


    Seeing that the young mage was having a hard time explaining, Cray whipped out a notepad that had been resting on a counter in the cabin. It was the one Cray had been using to try to teach the boy some word concepts with the aid of pictures on. He flipped to a page with a decent drawing of a person in different stages of life.


    From the last group of ''people'', a fight looked like it was about to break out. So, with a sigh, the young mage walked over to address them. "Hey where''s the rest of the guys that should be over here?"


    The woman dressed in a leaf patterned cloak, holding an oak staff in her hand said, "This field of force that we reside in was too stifling to them. They have fled to reconnect with our mother properly, leaving me to represent their voice."


    Stefen said, "That is for the best if they are as rude and ungracious as yourself."


    The woman said, "It may be a difficult thing to accept but you ARE an abomination and an affront to nature. I feel no need to personally take action to correct the mistake of your existence. That is a journey I would expect you to gain the wisdom to desire taking on your own."


    Orison quickly intervened and said, "Do you think you or one of the others that I have released from captivity within those dead trees could lead us to the ''shining wall'' pass once spring comes?"


    The woman turned to look at him and said, "Though you have no business walking this earth, outsider, yes. Perhaps the balance of this world has grown so disastrously unstable that the presence of one such as yourself will do more restoration than harm."


    Frowning, Orison said, "That would be appreciated... Perhaps you may wish to take this solemn season to reconsider what you know of nature and balance. Your viewpoint is myopic and hinders your ability to see greater reality''s reflection of the small, insignificant corner piece this world has revealed to you of it."


    Neutral face breaking into a slight smile, as if the acidic words spoken were little more than a pleasant discussion she was warming up to enjoy, she said, "Based off of an outsider''s view or your own myopic understanding?"


    The young mage resisted the urge to massage his head. "Both and more besides... As much as I''m certain we could benefit from a stress testing of our personal understandings, I have quite a few things left to accomplish. Could I trust the two of you to give each other space if pleasant conversation proves impossible? Since a ''live and let live'' policy has been established, lets establish a ''get along or get away from each other'' one as well."


    Surprising them both, the woman laughed heartily and kissed them both on the cheek. "Merry meet and merry part, then. The joy of life is welling within me too fiercely at the moment. Perhaps I will do as you say. There is never a lateness in season so deep that a search for more wisdom is wasteful. Our eyes and ears are everywhere. Call on us, if there is need outsider."


    Both of them stood a bit stunned and watched her walk behind one of the stones failing to re-emerge from the other side. A powerfully built man that had been frolicking and gamboling about like a crazy person, free of any meaningful clothing, rushed over to see that the woman had disappeared.


    Turning to the young mage and dhampir, guileless purple eyes asked, "Where did the leaf lady go?"


    Clearing his throat as he noticed the curious and, in Dustin''s sister''s case, interested looks, Orison hurriedly handed the man a set of clothes and simple, quilted armor.


    While he helped the man figure out how to put them on, he said, "You''re a human now for the most part. Wearing clothes and stuff is a thing you need to get used to. Your trace of spiritual bloodline from your draconic heritage was preserved and that probably helps you to not be overly concerned with the cold but there are women present. People only tend to be naked around the opposite gender after successfully courting and sometimes for other reasons that are fairly limited."


    The man looked at Orison and snorted. "I wasn''t hatched yesterday. I figured somebody would give me something to wear when they were ready."


    The young mage resisted the urge to gawk and said, "Oh... sorry for that, then."


    The dark haired, purple eyed man laughed and slammed a strong hand onto Orison''s shoulder with lightly bruising force. "No worries. There are a lot of things I don''t know or have forgotten. Better to be told too much than not enough."


    Running a touch of innate, world unassisted healing into the offended shoulder in question the young mage said, "Let''s start with holding back a little strength when being friendly with others. If I was Heath or... well, I guess it''s just Heath... You could have broken something with that hand strike."


    After receiving a self conscious chuckle of an apology, Orison returned to Dustin.


    "So this will take me and whoever''s hand I''m holding to somewhere else as long as I have a living family member there?" the Rogers man said.


    The young mage answered, "Yup. And with the help of my conduit, you should be able to reach any of them. That''s assuming a close enough blood relationship with them, though. Maybe even a few that you have strong spiritual connections with... It''s a specialty item of the First Family. They''re still a bit of a mystery to me and so is their stuff but what they are good at, they are really friggin good at."


    "What do you think, sis? Feel like checking out how my boys or grand kids are? I don''t particularly have a good opinion of the current place," Dustin said.


    The woman who bore the closest family resemblance said, "I''m still resisting the urge to strip and streak to the nearest body of water. Do you, bro. I''m down for the ride until I can get my own sh*t sorted."


    Just shy of outright terrified, the other woman said in a small voice that was barely over a whisper, "I''m willing to go. Just... please don''t leave me. I can barely breath right now. I... don''t know what would happen if I was left with complete strangers."


    While Dustin shot the woman a look of pure, masculine instinct driven protectiveness, his sister rolled her eyes dismissively. Stefan came over to join them and the group bantered for awhile before Orison subtly shifted the conversation back to using the device. Unfortunately, it seemed that Stefen had the idea to go with them but the device''s safe limit was three people total and it became pretty clear, pretty quickly that Dustin wasn''t willing to leave his cousin for a ''new friend''. Dustin wasn''t open to the idea of his sister staying either, even though she offered.

 227 The Fool 32

    While the young mage prepared Dustin to reach out into the great beyond to connect with his family, he hashed out his personal thoughts over Stefen. For as long as the dhampir had been around, most of his time had been spent as a tightly controlled thrall and spare body for his father. The man had a wealth of classical education, both magical and mundane, but gave off a slightly immature air when he allowed his true personality through the social mask.


    Had there been a single undead crony within Stefen''s circle capable of looking past the vague sense of despise that the ''differently living'' had for those with ''life'' within them, the dhampir wouldn''t have ever looked past them for somewhere else to belong. Underneath the composed facade was a fragile and unstable creature, a deeply damaged and traumatized person. The young mage wasn''t quite sure his ''kid glove'' mode was delicate enough long term to deal with the powder keg of potential issues the man represented. But until the dhampir gave him a reason to, he wasn''t willing to push the guy out to fend for himself either.


    Focusing back in, Orison said, "Alright, my man. The key''s dropping power fast. Tell me some good news."


    Dustin looked surprised and a little excited. "My son''s still alive!... One of them anyway. That''s where I want to go."


    There wasn''t much opportunity or really a need for the man to draw out any goodbyes. So, after making sure he had a good grip hold on his sister and cousin, they shot off in a eye searing column of light. Not willing to take chances with the health of sight that already suffered in the dark due to inner illumination, Orison footed the bill for a gold speck healing.


    Ignoring the dour, slightly miserable look the dhampir revealed for a moment, he turned to the dragon blooded man. "Hey, if you wander out of the field''s boundary, you won''t be able to get back in. If you want to leave, that''s fine but I figured I should say something."


    Surprised, he said, "How are we supposed to get food and water? There isn''t a decent cavern for us to hibernate in here either."


    The young mage took a moment to put a few things together and handed him a small pack. "There''s a good week of emergency rations in there along with some gold and gems. As far as water, I threw a couple bottles in there. Is that enough to stop the jitters you have for a few minutes?"


    The young mage sighed and muttered, "Works for me."


    Walking over to the brooding dhampir, Orison said, "I don''t know if you heard but-"


    "Yes, I know. The border of this field has no ingress," Stefen said.


    The young mage nodded and added, "That and you are free to go whenever you want but you''re free to stay as well... Thanks for being patient. I have your share of loot from our adventure. You may not have had to do much but that doesn''t mean anything. It was good knowing we had a person on backup plan."


    Stefen opened up the triangular storage device to find a share of coins, gems and rations as well. There was also a necklace that had a thumb sized, pear cut emerald appearing jewel with bright flecks of crimson imperfections inside.


    He let the dhampir look over it for a moment and said, "There would have been more of a share for you but trading for that was a bit high budget and I didn''t have a lot of time to price and compare. It reduces damage from energy based attacks. And once a day, it can produce an elixir that heals and grants some bonuses to physical performance.


    "It''s certainly not the magical item on most''s wish list since the drink it produces is essentially human blood in composition. It was originally meant to serve as a humbling reminder to the hero that bore it, the sacrifices of those that came before. But, for you at least, even that serves a good purpose."


    The young mage thought to himself, "And if you ever fully ''dark thirty'', vamp out or it gets stolen by a blood drinking evil prick, it''ll burn out the guts of the drinker like an extra strength, three day delayed holy water. I don''t know how the effect gets held back like that but I at least know the why. It goes from painfully crippling to most likely lethal with three doses to anything other than something beyond a certain power level or holy water tolerant kind of evil."


    The dhampir was speechless. Not in the mood for a touching, emotional moment with a near stranger that wasn''t a kindhearted woman, the young mage quickly moved on.


    Tossing another storage device to Cray, he said, "There''s a couple of things in there I think you can appreciate but be careful with the trainer that''s in there. I have a sneaking suspicion that Heath might have been one of the mystery comprehension receivers from the last overload of broke open trainers and its not so great for the brain to be hit with another one so soon, if that''s the case.


    "Let''s give him a month or so to be on the safe side and then we can give it to him. There''s only so much broken language I can take before I''m going to get frustrated and he''s eight. I don''t want some of his best learning years to be spent on things he should already know."


    Looking around, he was slightly surprised to see that Daniel had taken off with the mystery woman from Osomo. He had expected to receive a thank you or some form of gratitude for his efforts but he took it with a grain of salt. After all, Daniel was a working man who had what seemed to be a pretty strict boss.


    Looking at the relatively small selection of people remaining, he wasn''t particularly happy or disappointed. He was a little irritated that Osomo hadn''t seemed particularly capable of filling a custom ordered person to fill the roll of ''holy tank'' paladin for him. It wasn''t so much a needful thing but he had thought it would be an interesting chance to pull someone from the Osomo vault that would have made future travels a bit easier. Absentmindedly, he wondered if it was the request for a recently deceased person with most of their soul shell in tact that had made it hard to fill or if it had been ignored outright.


    Pushing the thought aside, he pilfered through his own triangle of goodies to see if there was anything else missing. There was. Nearly half the medicine didn''t make the cut and though most of the common supplies were there, the portable ''maker'' machine wasn''t present as well. What DID make it was the ''blue print'' matrix crystal that held the complex models for foodstuffs, simple tools and basic structures. It was an essential component of the ''maker'' machine but it wasn''t horribly enlightening or even that interesting of an object for study itself.


    Suddenly something he hadn''t thought of when speed burning through his citizen credits, surfaced. He wasn''t a full, true-blue First Family member. He had likely hit some invisible permission walls and that made him suddenly feel a great deal happier about what he had managed to accomplish despite that.


    As uncomfortable as he was with the idea of putting stuff into his space that he planned on holding long term, he felt even more uncomfortable carrying around priceless valuables, particularly the medicine. With bated breath, he placed all but the mundane supplies and storage device within in his space. The matrix crystal sunk right through the calm top layer, right into the ''heart of chaos'' where his soul resided.


    He became incredibly nervous, waiting for the huge blow of malicious consequence to come. For endless eternal seconds, he wondered if he would pass out, die, be brainwashed into a First Family soldier or some other form of dire retribution for shoving unknown objects into his space but nothing happened. He let out the breath he hadn''t realized he was holding and let out a nerve releasing chuckle of relief.


    He thought, "Dear Bob, thank you! Seems like even Greater Reality cut me some slack on this one. Either that or my stupid mistakes rewards card finally collected enough hole punches that I got one for free. Still, the matrix might have been all but useless but I might have found some way to access it models wi-"


    The young mage''s thoughts were cut off as his mind''s eye was filled with an overwhelming amount of pictures, diagrams and composition lists.


    "The damn thing stuck to the fake spark I made while I was a derpy undead! Did I just win the lucky idiot''s lottery today!?" the young mage thought with a creepy grin.


    Stefen, who had been standing nearby, said, "Apologies on interrupting whatever... imaginings that you might be relishing but we still have a need in urgency of addressing."


    Orison deactivated the interface screen and focused on the dhampir. "And what, pray tell, might that be?"


    Catching the positive, nearly chipper mood behind the slight mockery, Stefen smirked and said, "Shelter. I know not how long this barrier and its milding of season''s harshness will last. However, I have noted that it does not fully blockade the chillness and wind nor the drift of snowflakes in the air."


    Sobering up from his temporary rare moment of ''happy'' surprise, Orison went to speak with Cray in a private aside. But before that happened, he had to deal with the archer''s unexpected nudity while the man was looking himself over.


    Sighing, the young mage said, "First of all, congratulations on no longer being a patchwork of different skin tones. Secondly, you don''t have to deactivate your whole suit to put a ring on. It''s capable of being deactivated in segments."


    Suddenly embarrassed, Cray reactivated his suit and said, "I ain''t never seen you do it. It''s always been all or nothing for you."


    Clearing his throat, the young mage said, "Well, now you know. Anywhooo... How''s the cabin coming along?"


    While he checked, the archer said, "Is it that time of day again?... It''s actually getting there. A few more days should do it, I guess. Not going to make any promises on the exact. It ain''t like there''s a sign on the front porch telling me when it''s going to happen."


    The young mage said, "As long as it''s less than two weeks, we should be alright unless some angry boss monster Gawdzilla stomps the barrier. In the meantime..."


    Orison brought up the largest of the simple structure models in the matrix and used the stone in the surrounding area as materials for a half cylinder barracks style shelter. With a few gold specks and a rush of essence, the young mage held concentration for the half minute it needed to complete. A few things made themselves known but he needed to wait until after the structure was complete to address them.


    While the barracks was completing, magic from the world was rejected. The whole thing had been powered from the fake spark and it hadn''t been a small amount. Charging a spark was a colossal pain but doable over time. He wasn''t immediately concerned because he reasoned that he could simply make a new fake spark instead. But then he realized, he had forgotten how. Knowledge of all of the stripped models from an Osomo spark were absent from both mental and spiritual memory.


    It seemed there had been a slight trap hidden in the matrix crystal or the physical reset when transported from the ancient floating city. Whatever the cause, Orison''s sparse intimate knowledge of Osomo''s inner workings was no longer existent. He couldn''t even relearn the interface model engraved onto the fake spark because it had been internalized by the matrix crystal and forcefully removing it would break the frailly bonded motes it was made of, destroying the engraving in the process.


    Cray looked at Orison in awe and said, ???You can do that anytime you want?"


    Sighing, the young mage said, "For a hot second, I thought I could. Turns out, if I''m not careful, this and a whole lot more won''t be able to be made unless I take the time to learn their composition the good old fashioned way. If I baby the ability and keep it to only when I absolutely need to, it''ll be alright."


    A few more creations of comfort amenities within and the young mage understood more about the neat but limited new ability that he found himself possessing. Over a long period of time, the fake spark could passively recharge. Or a good deal faster, if he was focusing on the task. Using it for construction took a lot from the spark and a bit more golden essence than the standard speck assisted spell. Fashioning some food from pure spirit essence and a gold speck or two, not so much but enough to cumulatively lose more than what was easy to replace.


    Once everyone was settled in and had everything that they needed, the young mage confided in Cray, "Just when I thought I had a fairly nice way to exercise all that conjuration and transmuting know-how to pretty much permanently avoid ever having to ''rough it'' again, I get slammed with harsh reality. At least I had the presence of mind to get some supplies on the ''just in case''."


    Smirking, Cray said, "Yeah? I think I hear the last living cricket of the year playing ''My Heart Bleeds For You'' on his tiny little leg fiddle."


    Orison said, "You do know you would have it better right along with me?"


    The archer shrugged. "Half the joy in the world is made when somebody gets something they need. When you''ve got everything that you need with no real effort, there goes half the joy. That''s what Ma used to say... I know half the joy I get from hunting and fishing is when I bring back what I got to some smiling faces. Whose gonna smile for me if they can order up what they like with a please and thank you?"


    Frowning, the young mage said, "I really hate how much sense that makes. So, I''m going to ignore I heard it until I can deal with that malevolent little pearl of wisdom... For the record, a little instant gratification''s pretty nice too."


    Cray fired back, "Til you get used to it and then it ain''t nothing but expected. That is, until you can''t have it no more. Then you''re just miserable and hateful doing what everyone else has to do to have it."


    Orison looked at him sharply, "Alright. You''re asking for a brain twister... How much hardship is enough hardship? After all, it makes you tougher but can also break you... How much is too little? Who gets to decide? Try not to think about it. Try not to think about the proper amount of hardship a person should or shouldn''t endure as hard as you can."


    The archer nodded, whipped out a pair of wooden dice he''d carved and taught the dragon blooded man how to play dice. Half an hour later, Cray was swapping stories with Stefen while Orison caught himself weighing the pros and cons of certain types of hardships. He learned a valuable lesson. Telling people not to think about a visual might work on almost everyone but only the worriers have trouble not thinking about ideas they''re told not to think about.


    Over the next couple of days, the group got to know one another better. The dragon blooded man settled on a name after a good deal of debate and they found a pleasant surprise on Heath. Stefen ended up becoming very happy about the second.


    "So, why did you settle on Edos?" Cray asked the dragon blooded man.


    He replied, "Because it''s funny."


    "Most people don''t like to have funny names. I don''t really see why you''d think it''s a funny name, though," Orison said.


    Edos replied, "Oh, it''s not really. Except sometimes it''s funny to think about people calling me that when I''m not listening really close."


    Stefen asked the obvious to spare everyone else, "Why is it funny then?"


    Purple eyes shining eerily, he said, "Eat us. Eat us... Hey, eat us! Hehe."


    Somewhat nervously, Cray asked, "Have you thought about eating us?"


    Edos shook his head slowly and then stopped to nod hesitantly. "I wouldn''t unless I was hungry and you were already dead because I like you. The food you give me now tastes a lot better than the already dead people and the wild, ugly people that don''t clean themselves very well."


    Orison shrugged and said, "If we''re still friends, you''re starving and I''m dead with no real hope of being saved, you have my permission to eat me."


    Everyone looked at him with varying degrees of shock, surprise or curiosity. "What? Waste not, want not. If my useless carcass can save a friend''s life, I''d be happy to know that I could help a buddy out one last time."


    Stefen and Edos seemed to be touched by the sentiment but the involuntary visuals were a bit too much for Cray.

 228 The Fool 33

    Heath looked up from where he was fiddling with a familiar red coral and onyx decorated patch. "Teet ba-ag"


    When it was brought to Orison''s attention, attempts to examine it or its contents nearly threw Heath into a full state of hysterical rebellion. Several minutes of coaxing and a few bribes later, Cray and the young mage were reviewing the contents. Orison set Hunter''s makeshift first spellbook and the much larger grimoire pilfered from the lich''s barrow. There wasn''t much more of interest inside.


    Other useful items that may have been there had been lost along the way and Orison decided he''d rather not think about it. After some brisk trading with the kid, he was able to keep the books without a fit being pitched. Satisfied, Heath added some more shinies to his colored pebbles, candy wrappers and a surprising variety of edibles.


    Stefen asked the young mage later, "Why did you give the child some lesser gems and coins? Why not a few pieces of sweets or the like?"


    Orison replied, "Soon enough, that child will not be as ignorant as he is today. He''ll be smart enough to know that a couple of treats and some trash was a trick but not so much that he''d be able to figure out the true worth of what he traded. By the time he figures that out, he''ll be smart enough to notice all we give and do for him.


    "It would be potentially fatal for the kid not to trust us and little loses trust faster than the feeling of being taken advantage of. It doesn''t have to be true and it takes a great deal more maturity than even some adults have to see the big picture. Besides, I don''t know the specifics of where and when he found and picked them up but he deserves something for doing that."


    After flipping through the lich''s grimoire and removing a few pages he immediately burned, he handed the book over to Stefen. "You''re a classically trained wizard, right?"


    Stefan said, "The source of my arcane powers was from a devil pact. I have no desire to renew it since it has been broken. I do have some wizard''s training, though."


    Sighing, the young mage handed over the smaller journal style spellbook he''d made for Hunter. "These few spells will be a lot easier to digest if any are in your disciplines. What are they, if you don''t mind me asking?"


    Stefen seemed to be slightly confused and said, "Well, I suppose you could consider me a student of sigils as I once was a pact caster..."


    Orison said, "I mean within wizardry. What are your magic disciplines... the colors, man... whatever you call them, what two of the magic spectrum do you cast from?"


    Suddenly enlightened, Stefen said, "I see what misunderstanding you labor in. Because you are a theurge, you labor under the belief that wizardry, perhaps all other traditions, work similarly?"


    From an academic standpoint; druids, priests and pact casters fit into another category. That classification was based off the idea that such magic practices were subordinating. The caster either willingly subordinated themselves or entered into a contest of wills with greater powers, sometimes unwillingly. Casters of this type were not as clearly defined in capability, as the power of a servant caster was greatly reliant on what their supernatural superior was willing and/or able to share.


    Then there was the classification of thaumaturgy. Wizards and other outlier magic casters found ways to store spells and magical effects within themselves and items. They weren''t limited by the magical spectrum because their ''exchange'' was the learning process itself. Because they would forget and need to relearn each time, their souls didn''t take on an alignment to specific magical spectrum.


    "They forget the spells but not the theory of their crafting. So, over time, the relearning process streamlines and becomes easier. Through years of study their theory likely grows to the point that some of the spells they cast escape the bounds of spectrum casting and can be retained without affecting their ''generalist'' nature. Is any of that wrong?" Orison asked.


    Stefen blinked owlishly and said, "No. Though, the time it takes to reach such an understanding is long beyond what most mortals are capable. Many prominent figures of our kingdom embraced different forms of undeath for the sole purpose of having more time to become an archmage."


    Orison didn''t know whether to laugh or cry. "These poor b******s spent their lives and beyond trying to reach their personal truth of magic. They subconsciously were teasing out parts of the very laws that governed it but ignored that in favor of the effects those laws produced. My gawd, not seeing the forest for the trees."


    Stephen said, "I believe I see what you''re hinting at but these... laws... they are elusive and unable to be studied in any meaningful way directly. The effects of magic are tangible and useful. Having built a lifetime and beyond of frustration, ramming up against the incomprehensible, would you not seek shelter within the tangible and useful yourself?"


    The young mage sighed, thinking about the multitude of lives that reached the tier three finish line and never realized that only a step or two further was the tier four starting line. Then it hit him. How were those couple of steps supposed to be crossed?Those ''two steps'' required a tier three to study something that they had no way of sensing or interacting with. A lifetime of magical study gave the nebulous outline but without an elusive eureka moment or external intervention, no amount of academic study could help.


    Tier threes who worked hard could find the outline of the box they were trapped in but had no tools to help them get out themselves. There were ways, however. Through a eureka moment of his own, he realized that those ''ways'', almost every conceivable one, had powerful supernatural forces with a hand out for tolls or to snatch the gullible up wholesale.


    Orison thought furiously, "Give yourself to god. Make a deal with the devil. Take in and therefore be stained by, the alien and unknowable outside of reality. Let''s not forget all the families/organizations that speckle Greater Reality like infected polyps. They only offer exploitation-like exchanges when they can''t outright subordinate and claim you.


    "Why did the will of this reality ''offer'' me even that sliver of law understanding? Nothing I do on this world shy of saving it outright should warrant that kind of reward. I suppose that it could be after I realized myself a tier four and capable of seeing the echoes-"


    Stefen had continued speaking, unaware of Orison''s deep thoughts. "Then there are the so called sorcerers and a few other hedge magicians. These people refuse to use any kind of magic save what they steal or produce for themselves. They rarely make it far and are easily suppressed, overwhelmed by the greater and more efficient progress of any other type of caster."


    Orison''s heart fell to his stomach. What Stefen had described was exactly the only type of magic that had been available to him when he first arrived. That is, until he had a weak moment of ''understanding'' where he ''realized'' he was tier four and could sense the echoes.


    He muttered to himself, "It was false understanding... I''ve been sensing false understanding. Even the tiny bit of law that was granted to me is ultimately a watered down and mercenary understanding of karma! I''m a false tier four and the world is slowly subordinating me through corruption of my understandings! It''s trying to forcefully bring me into alignment with it.


    "There''s not a damn thing I''ve been doing lately that a ''theurge'' of sufficient experience could probably do, according to Stefen''s knowledge. I need to ''forget'' this crap and return to my roots. The world didn''t give me sh*t except for a slave collar and it''s watching on ambivalently as I slip it on, one exchanged magical effect at a time!"


    The dhampir became alarmed when Orison pulled out a dagger and chopped off a finger. Stefen''s dive to take the dagger away was unnecessary as the young mage dropped it to hold the severed finger back to the stub. Cray, drawn by the commotion, came to investigate as well.


    "Stand back. I haven''t lost my sh*t. I''m just trying to figure something out," Orison spat, sounding very much agitated and crazed.


    Pushing the things he had ''learned'' since coming to this world, the young mage relied solely on his own innate healing ability. Predictably, it healed poorly and with lingering problems that wouldn''t go away. He poured his power back in and focused on micro healing.


    He understood the structure and pattern of his own body. With the power at his disposal, there shouldn''t have been any issue ''restoring'' that pattern to a fully functioning whole. Yet, something interfered. It warped the pattern and set it off kilter.


    He rested for a few hours, asking for peace. He went so far as to go outside to the farthest extreme of the barrier, erecting a dirt bunker around himself to muffle noise, light and wind. Focusing all of his spiritual sight, magic and intent on the simple task of fixing the healed in flaws of his finger, he bent back into the work.


    Going in to the smallest flaw he could ''see'', he honed in on it at a trickle. The very moment the pattern slipped, he latched onto the force responsible and followed it out. Within no time, to his horror, it was the world will he sensed.


    "It has to work off some principle. There''s no way the will could micromanage every tiny, nearly molecular level defiance of itself. That shouldn''t only be beyond its capability, it shouldn''t even WANT to.


    "The will passively seeks to elevate itself at every opportunity and only focuses like that on things that threaten its well being. There''s no conceivable way that healing a small flaw in the joining of my cut off finger has any bearing on its safety or impedes its passive contemplation. There''s only one reasonable option left. What I''m trying to do interferes with its resource acquisition and recycling. But how?"


    The young mage poured over what he understood on how the world allowed and assisted healing. "The fake karma system! If wounds and whatnot can be fixed with magic alone, then half its system is exposed to be exploitative... That''s not all. Without the little gold bits being added, anything kind of conjuration and certain transmutations that deal with material patterns are warped. We never got a chance to use them much but the durability of the things I ''fixed'' were crap I bet.


    "If I was the world will trying to make this exploitation engine float, I would have leveraged against ''conservation of energy'' but that would have handicapped the hell out of magic. It wanted magic and for that force to be available to even the more intelligent or ''wise'' tier twos for, I assume, wider and more potential resource acquisition?


    "That part doesn''t matter to me. What ''does'' is that it used this capitalistic fake karma system. Wait, I''ve ''earned'' some of it. It has to honor that or it invalidates the system."


    He bent to the task of fixing his finger again. This time, when the forced slip of pattern was about to happen, he threw a few gold specks, not into the magic but at the force trying to stop it from happening. It paused briefly before trying to twist again. Orison threw a great deal more which stuttered the will''s automated opposition. He completed the healing and his finger was back to normal.


    Suddenly, it reverted back to a flawed state as the force returned. It didn''t matter to Orison. He packaged up the entire experience and ''sacrificed'' it in a wizardly version of a Presto cast and sent it along up into the echoing blanket of magic.


    An invisible contagion spread. The cost of healing a finger equaled the ''grace'' equivalent of a small cadre of divinely cursed undead. An exploitative world will wanted more not less. So, the new standard would always favor the higher cost. Many terrible things happened.


    Every god tied to the world will had to instantly bear the new cost. Lesser gods and demigods became mortal and succumbed to the limitations of lifespan. More powerful gods dropped from the mid and upper limits of tier five to demigod status. But that is not where it ended.


    Curses and seals broke all over the gigantic planar world. People who had been saved by clerical magic, suddenly died. Redeemed souls who were subordinated by the world will shifted from ''good'' to ''evil''. The domino effect continued spreading out for all of a half second before reality froze.


    Still automated, the world will''s defense tried to push the backlash onto Orison. The young mage was in no way responsible for any of it. He had only healed a finger and submitted the bill to equally apply to everyone else. It didn''t stop him from being slotted for complete physical and spiritual annihilation but the world will had to stop its own automated process from completing that or it would perish as well from a very real supernatural karmic backlash.


    The will was helpless but to pay a massive cost in resources to realign things properly. Because its own fake karma was inflated to worthlessness, it owed a debt to Orison for the young mage''s deeds in the undead kingdom by a default of the subordinate god who issued the curse using its fake karma.


    The will reset the karmic cost of its system back to a reasonable exchange rate and otherwise didn''t change much. A great deal of harm was done and not much of it could be undone but new gods would rise where older ones fell and new lives were being born everyday. The fallen were once again redeemed but spiritually traumatized and doubting. In time, some would ''fall'' again but not to eternal damnation. Instead, they would be freed as Sammy once had been.


    As time unfroze, the will focused in on Orison, intent to ''kick him out''. Such an action would undoubtedly kill the young mage regardless. As soon as the will focused on him, however, Orison called in his debt.


    "For services rendered, I ask in return to be considered a native outsider while I am here. In return for the remainder of your fake karma, I request to be exempted from its system." the young mage said smugly, completely unaware of the myriad ills wrought in the aftermath of his finger heal.


    He was slapped back with a supernatural version of a gag order, unable to reveal HIS exploit of the will''s fake karma exploit. The young mage took it to the metaphorical chin with a kind of good sportsmanship acceptance. Afterwards, he went back to business as usual.


    Immediately, things had changed drastically for him, however. He couldn''t feel the echoes anymore. After consolidating recognized and accepted concepts, he felt himself ''step'' down from five back to three and the not altogether fake feeling of touching on laws disappeared but the soul remembered the sensation and the hardest wall of mortal kind had a crack in it for the young mage.


    As a secondary consequence, Cray also took a ''step'' backwards. Seeing it in another, Orison realized it wasn''t actually all bad. The step may have been demolished but the baptism that had came with the vanished steps didn''t actually go away. The extra touch of ''realness'' thus lent remained within them. Orison had a sneaking suspicion that it was one of many costs that the world will had been forced to eat.


    He had no idea and would have been terrified of possible retribution. He wouldn''t have been wrong, despite the world will being incredibly ambivalent and impersonal. It might not strike out in a wasteful emotion like wrath or indulge in the desire for revenge but it''s servants that had been gouged deeply by the young mage''s actions weren''t immune to the pettier side of human emotions or the inherent instinct in many things to seek to hurt something when it had been hurt.


    Over the next few hours, the group was puzzled over occasional tremors in the ground. Had it been night time, they would have seen things that would have scared their souls loose from their bodies. But ultimately, the worst had passed by that evening.


    The next morning, they were awakened by muffled noises. Stirring to investigate, they witnessed a slew of offensive druidic magic and a few servants of nature assaulting their domed barrier or trying to dig under it to find that it was a full sphere. Seeing the contorted looks of madness on their faces, no one was willing to ask them why they were doing it as that would require them to exit the only thing keeping them from being ripped to shreds by every force of nature the revived druids were calling.


    That wasn''t all they were calling. They were calling other druids as well. The fresh set had a different plan, however. They were casting their power outward to the west. Seeing what they were doing, the ''locals'' joined their remaining power to the new group''s.

 229 The Fool 34

    The young mage said, "I wouldn''t know why. They are alive because of me. Well, I may have played a little loose and dirty with the world will but it was playing dirty first... You know what? I''ll take half responsibility."


    They looked at him like he''d lost his mind.


    Orison smirked. "The southern half... Hahaha!"


    He stopped laughing once he realized that a softly building debt to the world will began accumulating. He tried to ''take it back'' but the world will wasn''t having it. He discovered the hard way that since he had finished opening the can of worms on playing ''big boy games'', his existence was measured against ''big entity'' rules. He expressed willingness to accept ''responsibility'' and the world will agreed.


    ***


    Down in the ''south''. The ravaged remnants of the undead empire had gathered together to shore up a defense. The enemies they had in the ''path beneath the mountains'' to the east would waste no time claiming the land for their own the moment they discovered their undead foes had been reduced in prowess.


    Left with little option, the remaining powerhouses had called upon a ritual that would cede some land rights to devilish sponsors. Sensing an opportunity to build a launch pad for planar conquest since the ''shining wall'' had weakened tremendously, a few ambitious devils had agreed to the bargain. They weren''t foolish.


    The devils of some experience had dealt with and been dealt blows by the world will and its servants in the past. Unlike the forces of ''good'', they never rested and constantly sought out new opportunities to take advantage of. And in the aftermath of whatever event had taken place, the world will had many areas of questionable stability to keep its eyes on.


    ***


    The demonic forces that dwelt within the deepest parts of the world weren''t slackers either. Some roved eastward but some of the older and more seasoned creatures of the abyss turned their gaze westward towards old rivals. The most powerful of their servants sensed well but nearly impossible to completely hide hidden ripples that carried the flavor of a Hellish will.


    Worried that rivals in ''evil'' were about to claim an easy oyster out from under their noses, a disorganized army of demon devotees and whatever abyssal presences could be smuggled into the material world, speed marched to claim stakes ahead of schedule and stop the devils from gaining a foothold on their ''back porch''. Driven to induced madness by the faint ''scent'' of Hellish will, their demonic superiors and the servants who fueled their visit ignored the faint dagger smiles and predatory gazes of various other denizens of the deep paths.


    ***


    Feeling assured of its accomplishment in ending whatever irritants that had stirred it. The power settled back down to wait for the dim day when ''The End'' was beckoned in earnest. A sideways and slightly bar shaped hourglass eye the size of a football stadium took one last blurry look at its murky surroundings before closing once more.


    ***


    "They''re doing all that just to drop like flys. Now how does that make any sense?" Cray asked as he watched another druid wither into premature decrepitude and collapse.


    Orison replied flippantly on the surface while deeply worried underneath, "They''re probably going for one huge gesture of destruction rather than wearing themselves out on an endless barrage of smaller ones. It makes me happier because a war of attrition, we''d lose but this barrier was designed to withstand powerful short term shows of force."


    An hour after the last one fell, they had somewhat started to relax since nothing had happened. The arrival of the oak leaf druid lady with an army of animals carrying different seeds made everyone''s scalp tingle but she just arrayed her army of nature in a tight, fanning cluster on the northeastern side of their barrier and waited. Seeing that she had erected an earthen wall in front of her as her eyes looked upward and to the southeast, they did the same.


    Nothing happened for a while but the sky took on a weird grayish tint, making it look somewhat stormy despite a lack of clouds. Moments later, the nearly invisible mist high in the air suddenly bunched as if someone had snagged and tripped over a side of rug, forming funky ripples of spontaneously formed clouds. For as dread inducing as that was, all that seemed to reach them of the odd event was a handful of back to back straight winds Orison guessed were nearly as strong as hurricane force could generate but nothing beyond.


    Tree tops lashed and writhed as limbs were broken off and hurled into the distance. But it calmed down so quickly after that, aside from the few that landed on or near them, there was little evidence that anything out of the ordinary had happened. The oak leaf lady''s actions were just beginning.


    For the next few minutes, she built a few earthen walls and raised the whole land that the barrier sat on, knocking it loose. She looked perplexed when she noticed that instead of ''rolling away'', they were slightly suspended in air, immobile. After that, they couldn''t see what she was up to because a part of the new mound above and behind them blocked their view.


    Orison was momentarily distracted from the goings on around him as the alarmingly mounting debt to the world will suddenly started plummeting. It reversed completely before the world will caught on and finally ''accepted'' the young mage''s request to no longer be responsible for whatever was happening down south. Orison was enraged by the world will''s sudden cut-and-run but he reasoned, it was best to never again take ''responsibility'' for something like that.


    Fearing that the intelligent force of the world would find some new way to screw him over through his friends, he ''spent'' the debt he managed to hold over the will''s head to extend the same preferential ''cold shoulder but no hostility'' treatment he had to his little group. It wasn''t quite enough but the gag orders they got made up the tiny difference.


    "That''s it. I''m done playing debt games with the whole world. That is, no doubt, very dumb for a shrimp soldier person. And as much as I''d like to believe otherwise, that''s what I am. Should be getting that crab general promotion soon, though," he thought.


    Heath''s sudden shriek got his attention. While the boy huddled protectively around the hazelnut tree, a creeping muddy brown filtered through the treeline in the west. It looked ridiculously slow at first but as it moved closer, it was apparent that it was moving quite fast. For the next four hours, they were plunged into darkness. As the barrier kicked into a higher protective mode, its energy reserves were burning fast.


    That wasn''t the only problem. The barrier was meant to allow an exchange of fresh air and that was slowly allowing muddy water to filter in and build up around the outer edges. Burning the crystal matrix''s power source til less than a third was left, Orison built an embankment in a generous circle around their barracks. By the time a spot of dim light was visible at the top of the barrier, the muddy water was only a few inches shy of the embankment''s lip and the ground within was a little squishy.


    Once the water had drained away enough for them to survey their surroundings, Cray looked at the nearly uniform muddy brown coating everything and said, "This place got done in every way it can, just about."


    Standing outside their field, the oak leaf lady had made the trek back after depositing her wild compatriots in a safe place to weather out the winter. "Can you hear me?"


    Orison nodded. "After everything that happened, to maintain the most essential functions, the barrier had to abandon certain features in favor of others."


    She did some kind of minor nature magic and said, "We''re going to have unseasonably mild conditions for a few days before the mother of all blizzards hits this place. You can take that time to travel south and escape the worst of it or I can show you a cave system that has been flushed of inhabitants save for deeper in. A large colony of northern bats makes their home there."


    After some discussion, the group decided to head for the cave. It wasn''t an easy choice. The oak lady''s motivations were unclear. And in the aftermath of the other druids'' attempts, she wasn''t overly trustworthy. Sadly, the alternative was much worse. Farther south, the situation was deadly and even more unclear. Left with little choice and less idea of what to do next, the group abandoned their failing barrier shelter and followed the druid.


    "Why the difference in attitude to the rest that were obviously trying to kill us?" Orison said as they traveled.


    She smirked and replied, "You... Trying to kill you. Your companions would have had... difficulties but there was a decent chance of the boy and his sapling surviving."


    He stared at her silently.


    Her face returned to a peaceful neutral. "Whether you are aware or not, simple actions may have monumental impacts. It doesn''t change that your act was a simple one and it''s hardly your fault that there was a flaw in the world. In the long run, many who have been forced into unnatural paths to suit the flaw rather than fixing it, will be released to find balance and harmony again.


    "On a more personal note, I will be compelled to remain here for many years attempting to restore nature to a semblance of balance. I find myself not quite ready to embrace such solitude. With the few fellows I may have had throwing their lives away on meaningless endeavors, I have little remaining outside of the wildlife to ease it."


    Thinking it over, Orison said, "Hazel needs a permanent home. We can''t keep carting her around for much longer before the enriched soil bundled around her sapling''s roots won''t be able to help ease the shock of transplanting."


    She replied, "And where she goes, the boy will want to follow."


    "I have a feeling that our road forward is going to be bumpy. Maybe, instead of trying to get Heath to adjust to being a human, perhaps the better path might be to release him into the care of someone who could turn his attunement to nature into an advantage," Orison said.


    The oak leaf lady shook her head. "He is not attuned to nature. There is much inside him and around him that would make such a path difficult. Do not let his appearance fool you. Your boy is only one in appearance and has over a century of life experiences within him. His attachment with the renewed dryad is a temporary one as well.


    "Once she is strong enough to awaken, she will not be the one he knew that was like a mother to him. He would be little more than a potential future mate. No, he should be reassured that she is in a safe place and made to let go. Help him move on before attachments root him to a place that will only cause him misery and loneliness that he will have difficulty understanding.


    "Now, the one you call Edos has that potential. Not so much to be a steward of nature but a guardian of it. You have ruined Cray from such potential but not beyond what could be recovered over time. Do you think it too forward of me that I fully intend to seduce one of them away from your side?"


    Anything that the speechless young mage might have had to say on the issue was tabled as Edos came bounding up.


    "You like me and see me as a potential mate? Will you have my babies?" the man said with a lopsided grin.


    Now that it was her turn to be speechless, Orison resisted the urge to laugh and said with a saintly smile, "Just about everyone in my group has incredibly acute hearing. ''Seduce'' is a pretty powerful word."


    Edos added, "Do you want me to show off for you? What do you like? Should I dance or beat up another male? I don''t know a lot about how two leggers do things but I would be happy to learn."


    Edgy brooder, Stefen, was eating up her discomfort like it was a dessert but surprisingly came to her rescue anyway. "I''m sure you would but you''re being too eager. Desperation is unattractive."


    The dragon blooded man turned the full intensity of his purple eyes on her and said, "Is what he said true or is he trying to lure me away so that he can mate with you?"


    The druid and Stefen shot each other a look of loathing just shy of openly hostile. "I''d rather submit myself to the affections of a fury fresh from Hell." "I''d let this forest burn to the ground first."


    Edos moved to stand between them and spread his arms wide as he whipped to glare at Stefen. "She didn''t say your name. My only rival is ''ruined'' Cray. No flirting!"


    The archer, who''d been lost in his own thoughts til that moment, Looked over at the commotion and was about to comment on being called ''ruined'' when Heath gently set down Hazel and gestured for the book of drawings. The boy pointed between the druid and Edos before pointing at a drawing in the book.


    Sagely, Heath said, "Bay-bee."


    Satisfied that he''d caught the confused Cray up to speed, he just as gently picked up the hazel tree sapling and waited for everyone to start moving again.


    After a few more moments of awkward humor and annoyance, they were gaining ground to the cave again. In an effort to not appear ''desperate'', Edos kept a measured but relatively near distance from the druid. He would occasionally shift down wind and smell the air before quickly attempting to put himself between her and everyone else except Orison. The young mage was tempted to ask why he was an exception but he strongly believed the answer might upset him.


    Underneath the amusement and annoyance that helped to make the trip a little less bland, Orison sensed an undercurrent of potential tragedy. During a break, he approached Edos. The dragon blooded man was gazing intently at the silent and pensive druid who was trying her best not to become unnerved or show signs of ''running''. As an observer of nature, she was well aware of what the potential outcomes of such an event might be.


    "We need to talk, Edos," the young mage said.


    Purple eyes shifted their gaze at him for a brief moment before returning to their main target. "I don''t know what we need to talk about. So, you''ll have to tell me."


    Pauses to lend weight to what was about to be said were lost on the man.


    Orison took a steadying breath and said, "Listen to everything I have to say before reacting to it, alright? I have more than one piece of information to share."


    The man nodded and agreed.


    The young mage said, "Human females don''t NEED to be in... Do you know what estrus is?... They don''t need to be in... heat to be fertile. BUT... an unreceptive female, one that is fearful or in distress isn''t particularly fertile either.


    "She didn''t SPECIFICALLY mean that she was ready to mate with anyone when she said that she wanted to ''seduce'' you or Cray away. It''ll be an option at some point, I''m sure... HOWEVER, she meant that she didn''t want to be left here alone.


    "It may not be the case with all human women but she''s a druid. She has the ability to make sure she won''t have babies if she doesn''t want to. If you force yourself on her, mate with her against her will, she WON''T have your babies, Edos. She also won''t like you anymore and will find another mate if she can."


    The dragon blooded man grew thoughtful. "I believe that I''m strong enough to keep her but not having my babies is bad."


    Orison pushed down the cold sweat that was trying to form. "If you are able to be patient and take the time to learn the little things that make her happy and show interest in them for her sake, she will be more receptive to having your babies, I think. She''ll also be far less likely to look for or even want to find another mate if you''ll let her accept you on her terms."


    He had the man''s full attention as Edos asked, "Humans have long mating rituals?"


    Orison said, "Sometimes. Sometimes it''s very fast. Women tend to take longer finding a mate to have babies with than ones to have fun with."


    Pleasantly surprised, Edos said, "Humans mate for fun!? That''s exciting!... Oh, do human females have to eat their mates to have healthy babies?"


    Resisting the urge to flatly deny, the young mage said, "Assuming they have everything they need from other food, no."


    Seeing that Orison didn''t have any more pearls of wisdom to share, Edos rushed over to confirm what he''d been told with the druid. The young mage didn''t have the keen hearing that some of his companions had. But judging by the gradual ease of tension around her and the nervous laughter that turned into a few genuine ones, he''d accomplished his goal.

 230 The Fool 35

    The oak leaf lady approached Orison and said, "We are less than a half day from our destination... There is something else I''d like to speak with you about. Know I only say this as a possibility, not a threat in any way."


    "You have the floor, Secretary of Agriculture," Orison said in self amusing formality.


    Hesitantly, she said, "It would take some time since I am alone but... Would you consider the possibility of voluntarily being banished?"


    Frowning, he said, "Just so there''s no confusion, what EXACTLY do you mean by voluntarily being banished and why would we want that?"


    The oak leaf woman said, "You are at odds with what the world wants. You may have forced it to accept your presence but there are many who serve the world in different ways that could sense that and move to ''remove'' you. Many of which would be in unpleasant ways. Under a controlled and voluntary banishment, you would have some choice in the direction that you would... travel. There would be a lot less danger and there might even be better opportunities.


    "Bluntly, you are not welcomed here and that will lead to conflict. Conflict will lead to more damages and losses for both yourself and the world. If the scale grows grand enough, as it has here, this world will actively move against you."


    Orison said, "I don''t have a mind to, no. It''s disturbing to think about the possibility of people dying just because powerful individuals have it out for me, though. With some time, I might have a better solution for myself and at least one or two people who want to follow me. Besides, banishment seems harsh whether it''s voluntary or not and magic tends to follow its implied meaning."


    She nodded. "If you''ve not made up your mind completely or want to keep it as a reserve choice, the cave I''m leading you to has a large banishment circle set up within. It hasn''t been used for many years but with a little cleaning up and a good deal of power invested, it would still serve."


    "Why is there a banishment circle in some random place over here?" Orison asked.


    The oak leaf lady said, "Undead weren''t the only problem that plagued this land. And it wasn''t but nigh two centuries ago, an evacuation cleared out the remaining northern settlements. At that time, an abyssal invasion spilling out of the deep paths was hindered in part by such things.


    It gave something for not only the young mage to chew on but Cray and Stefen as well. Being as they all had the potential to be ''voluntarily'' banished, Orison saw no reason to not allow them all to consider along with him. It was pretty obvious what Edos had in mind if he could convince the lady to have him. As for Heath, he still had some time to go before he''d understand enough to make a complicated choice like that for himself.


    Along the last stretch to the cave, the druid lifted her eyes slightly to the north and said, "I sense something I had not expected to be nearby. It will add a small time to our journey. However, it may prove to offer a solution to the dryad''s worries."


    No one aside from Stefen protested and he was enough of a diplomat to leave it at a few grumbling remarks.


    Orison chuckled to himself along the way. Curious, the druid asked what had taken his fancy.


    He said, "Oh, nothing much. It''s petty really. I''ve kind of always had a bit of a grudge against overly handsome men and pretty boys who have an easy time attracting women''s attention. Every time you throw some frosty shade at Stefen or ruffle his feathers, it gives me a little tickle."


    The smile she gave him wasn''t kind. "You do realize that you are somewhere between the two yourself. Does that mean you bear your reflection double the grudge? Are you the kind of creature that gains pleasure from being abused or relief from abusing yourself?"


    He smiled weakly, "If I took that bait, I have no doubt it would look like the answer to your second question was yes. You could make a year''s subscription on the issues I have with my appearance. To some degree, I got what I asked for and suffer from buyer''s remorse in a way. And truth be told, I''ve never suffered from a lack of self pity or loathing. That''s something that predates my appearance by quite a bit."


    She snorted. "Consider that the meaningful changes come from within and work on that. Perhaps you''d be less miserable. Let nature and fruitful labor dictate your appearance."


    Orison sighed. "I don''t have much of an option on that last part anymore. But the first, I guess that wouldn''t sting at all if I didn''t need the reminder. Speaking of reflection, I hope your lack of open hostility comes from a bit of enlightenment while attempting to look past your own nose. I''d be greatly upset if this turned out to be some elaborate plot to accomplish what your previous associates failed to."


    She smirked. "Dislodging your barrier from the ground was intended to be a coin toss decision for me. If you were washed inland, I help. If towards the sea, I work against. I took your utter lack of movement a sign that I shouldn''t be so frivolous and took all things into account.


    "I came to the conclusion that you are more pitiful than menacing. You lack much of the darkness of spirit to be considered such. Does it upset you that this is how we reached the current state?"


    Orison chuckled mirthlessly. "Absolutely. But if it means you won''t twist a knife in my spine, pity away."


    "Two honest people have difficulty parting pleasantly, do they not?" She asked.


    The young mage shook his head and replied, "Being honest AND tactful is challenging but not impossible... Since I know you''re listening, you might want to pay attention to this too, Edos... Having some consideration for someone else''s feelings before letting your thoughts roll over the filter between your brain and mouth could save a lot of time and energy on fights over nothing important and useless disagreements."


    She leaned over and kissed Orison before giving a look back at Edos and then walked a little faster. Whatever she was expecting from the action, the dragon blooded man just tilted his head in momentary confusion before moving on unperturbed. Whether its what she wanted or not, the young mage made sure to stay more than an arm''s distance from her after that.


    Close to half an hour later, the druid partially climbed, partially slid, down into a small gully hidden between two steep sided hills. Once they''d all reached the bottom, she was studying a rough stone threshold stuck into the corner crack of the hills. Behind the ''door frame'' accidentally made by nature''s caprice was little more than a slight indent barely big enough for two people.


    "At the end of the evacuation, to make sure no creatures could use them to follow, portals and gates of any kind were where either destroyed or sealed and buried. I know not how this one was uncovered but I know where it leads. I need a small breath''s of time to ensure that the other side is safe." she said.


    Gravity grew slightly strange and senses grew confused for a moment. Nothing else had changed except the druid was no longer there. No sooner had that registered, the same thing happened again. She stood before them but her oak leaf clothes were slightly worn and she had a subtle unpleasant scent of unwashed body.


    "The rowan matron will receive the young dryad. Some effort was required to find a suitable place. I would have... How long have I been gone to your understanding?" she said tiredly.


    Edos said, "Two blinks. I can smell you better now."


    She flushed red. "Wild fey rarely know the hardships of mortal kind and care even less."


    She turned to Heath and cast a small spell of some kind. A wealth of information was passed between the two in a ''language'' barely remembered by humans. Edos even seemed puzzled at times but he hadn''t been a mammal, much less a person, for long.


    The boy looked at the sapling in his hands sadly. It took some doing but he conveyed that he wanted to go and see where the hazel tree would be planted. The druid didn''t think that would be much of a problem but he wanted Cray to come too and that meant Edos wanted to come. Her eyes took on a strained look but she reluctantly agreed.


    There was no point in arguing for everyone to come. She bluntly explained that Stefen would be killed on sight and Orison could potentially suffer any number of misfortunes. The perfect place for Hazel''s new home wasn''t that inviting and the druid herself wouldn''t be allowed to linger there for very long without challenge, much less with a group.


    Since it would take some time, she advised Orison and Stefen to finish making their way to the cave or put some distance between themselves and the leyline portal at the very least. Since the way was known to be open, there might be a few curious or adventurous creatures who popped their head out to examine the area. The last thing she needed was to be on the other side when a fight broke out. It could endanger herself and everyone with her.


    With daylight burning and suffering from an acute sense of curiosity himself, Orison suggested they move on ahead to the cave. Stefen seemed rather ambivalent about it, one way or another. That is, until Orison pointed out that first come equaled first served in setting up whatever small territories for personal space the cave might allow.


    "Beggars can''t be choosers, I suppose. But would it have been too much to ask that I become a homeless orphan AFTER winter?" Stefen bickered after seeing the mess of debris and bat leavings scattered everywhere.


    Directing two invisible gnome sized summonings to sweep the main cavern, Orison said, "Help me understand the complete lack of empathy for your family. It''s a foreign concept to me that there was no love or care at all."


    While the dhampir ran a limited number of Prestos over his preferred area, he said, "I spent the majority of my life as my father''s spare suit. All three of us were simply an extension of the man in some form or other. Perversion, degradation and constant battles for scraps of his consideration destroyed our bond completely."


    Orison sighed, "Far be it from me to spark a kernel of affection for people I directly or indirectly ended but at least give this to your mother. She spent her last few seconds on this world to cover you with her own body, silently begging me to spare you."


    Stefen snorted. "To spare my father, you mean."


    Orison shook his head. "No, you. His phylactery was in the girl and the main body of his soul was in the one he stole from me... How much do you know of how you ended up inhabiting and reshaping my body into at least the facsimile of yourself?...


    "There is no logical reason why I wouldn''t have destroyed my body but I left it in tact and illogically whole out there where anything might have claimed it to do who knows what. I also accepted you into our group without much of a ripple either... It took me over a week to find and eliminate tiny little implants of your mother on my spiritual consciousness. Most of them were about you."


    Sobering, Orison said, "I tell you this because I think that underneath the woman who catered to her husband''s every whim for survival was a person who greatly cared about the one child conceived before love had died within her. You were the legacy she chose to endure beyond the ruin and decay of everything else.


    "That being said, she was ready to die. I think she might have even wanted to. I have mixed feelings about her choosing one child over the other for survival but who knows all the little details that happened when no one was looking. It''s possible that girl is alive out there somewhere... Wait, you know. I don''t remember seeing that four year old girl anywhere."


    Stefen''s eyes shot up in surprise. "The savage little monster that wiped her feces on magically preserved velvet curtains and destroyed several priceless antiques? Mother was furious but still kept her in that room... No, no, no! I don''t even want to think about it."


    Other things clicked for the young mage but he kept them to himself. ''Silent Beauty'' was an accomplished mesmer. The kind of second guessing that could produce in someone was maddening. When it was all said and done, he couldn''t stop himself from wondering if Stefen''s cold indifference was just another ''step'' she had prepared to free him from the shadow of their dark lives.


    He was interrupted from his trip down a rabbit hole by a sudden exclamation from Stefen. "I found the edges of a magic circle! It''s incredibly complex and difficult to look at directly. For some reason the inscriber didn''t bother adding cryptic embellishments at all! It''s completely bare."


    Blandly, Orison said, "I know your hearing is just as good as Edos''. Did you not hear the druid talking about a banishment circle?"


    Smiling at Orison, Stefen said, "Would you look at this mysterious magic circle I''ve found. If my years of classical training serve well, I believe that it''s a banishment ritual circle. See, this here is an element of both teleportation and planar travel. It signifies the desire to have the focus of the center to ''move away''."


    Woodenly, the young mage said, "I see."


    Then he realized what the dhampir had revealed. "There''s elements of both teleportation and planar travel inside it?"


    Curiosity piqued, he began studying it alongside Stefen.


    "These portions push into planar space. What a travesty. No wonder the mage responsible didn''t bother with flourishes and embellishments to obscure his work. Who could see the most important parts?" the dhampir said, disappointment palpable.


    The young mage looked directly at the heart of the work and the slight amount of impossible geometry that lied there. A faint buzzing in the back of his mind was warning him against doing such a thing. But then, like a soap bubble popping under a little external force, the ability to see a bit beyond what normal human vision allowed returned to him. It was an exercise of spirit sight to some degree anyway and under the slight external pressure, the layers bled apart into distinctive 2D frameworks.


    Orison stared in wonder. "That''s why we were stuck at journeyman level so long ago. I was thinking of it like the four dimensional screen savers at school. It''s not. They are distinct, separate layers that intersect at key points. What''s more, the only major difference between a teleport and moving from one planar level to another within the same insular reality is a bigger f***ing map and more power.


    "With a working planar layer as a buffer, one side of a world could be as big as a pin head while the other is the size of Jupiter. It''s like Echo Mire and the mudflats. That''s the principle these circles work off of. The math wasn''t calculation, it was spatial referencing! Beyond the standard trappings of most magic, a working model of this is; a map, accurate reference points and enough juice to soften the layer so your magic can connect the circle to where you want to go!"


    Hearing what Orison was saying, Stefen said, "Quick! Please, while the inspiration is still on you, enter a pact with me so you can share it. I know you have a true name. You should be able."


    It wasn''t some kind of ''inspiration''. He was staring at it as plainly as if he ran across a piece of paper with notes. With ears on the dhampir while he studied, Stefen explained the simplest of basic pacts, accepting a mark. Orison needed no explanation of that. And if it was an uneven marking like in pacts, he could simply sent a branding intent to do so as long as the other person didn''t resist.


    There was, however, one small but important difference. When the supernatural quality of one''s true name was invoked in the process, the channel could be smaller or wider and share a great deal more depending on the entity. Since he pretty much had control of everything outside of what was sworn upon his true name to provide, which was nothing outside of some promises NOT to screw the guy over, there wasn''t any particular reason not to.


    Process done as Orison tried not to smile over Stefen''s rather high pitched screech of momentary spiritual pain, he shared his sight with the dhampir. The man whipped out the lich''s grimoire and began fiercely scribbling. With some corrections from Orison on the points of connection, Stephen finalized a dissected version which could be studied in parts. Lastly, he meticulously copied a very simple and clean model into Hunter''s old ''My Very First'' spellbook.

 231 The Fool 36

    Orison looked between the two. "This one is a complex and high end conjuration and that is a rather low to middle ground transmutation, though?"


    Stefen looked at him oddly. "Any referencing system works as long as it''s inclusive enough, I suppose. But what does that have to do with a spell? Would you be surprised to see me use an ingredient for an elaborate casserole in a soup? It''s just salt... That one pushes you all the way out, this one only pushes you a little bit. That one is designed for the unwilling, this one only works on the willing... and so on."


    The young mage felt a part of his comprehension grow unstable. Oddly enough, it didn''t feel like what he was understanding was structure poison. It felt more like something that had always been a placeholder was about to be replaced with something more permanent. Ages ago, when ''the boy'' was slowly taking in the greater part of Al''s loose soul stuff, they had reconstructed a spell model that had elements of both restoration and destruction within it.


    Because of that, Orison knew that complex spells COULD have connections to other schools or disciplines within them. He just hadn''t seen such a clear example that they could also have overlapping parts that crossed the neatly tabbed divisions for magic that he had made. It spurred him to move to a clean space of Cave floor and begin doodling out all the old models still swirling around in his mind.


    Connection after connection could be seen but that wasn''t the interesting part to the young mage. He could start to see the overlaps. It was confusing and nearly overwhelming but he slowly reordered by those connections and overlaps, seeing an emerging ''cosmology'' of magic with huge gaps and stretches. Even with the selection he had, he inevitably had to move from a 2D ''map'' of models on the cave floor to a 3D model in his head. It didn''t take long for it to escape what his imagination could encompass.


    It was a bit of a work around with limitations but using the ''interface'' eternium motes that was connected to the crystal matrix, he removed some of the higher end structures to make room for a model map. By the time he had reached the point where the need for the ''extra-dimensional'' layer to continue on became necessary, several hours had gone by. He looked around to see that his little invisible house cleaners had started climbing the walls to clean reachable parts of the ceiling.


    He took a moment to update Stefen on the rest of their group''s activities, oddly brightening the dhampir''s mood up. The small gesture of being treated as one of the group in such a small way had ended up being more meaningful than Orison had particularly intended it to be. Noting that, he made a quick sweep with his spirit sight to make sure everything was as it should be. Afterwards, he returned to the increasingly difficult process of reorganizing his concepts with the minor but incredibly important revelation Stefen and the banishment circle had illuminated.


    In truth, he was at the point where any other mage would be forced to stop and spend agonizing years trying to tease out. But Orison had one thing they didn''t, a spirit sight that could ''see'' in an extra direction. Since he could see it, he could imagine it as well. The amalgamation of models that he was delving into building would have looked like overlapped chicken scratch to anyone else but that was because perfectly flat surfaces moving through an extra direction would only register visually as pulled taffy lines and warped, distorted scribbles to everyone else.


    An added bonus that he hadn''t expected was slowly showing its usefulness to his ramping mental and creative challenge. The memory storage of the crystal matrix he was working with was First Family magical tech. It was designed to be compatible with their other extra-dimensional devices. So, it could, if at great cost to memory space, hold the imagined added layer doodle that Orison was drawing with his imagination and intent onto its ''drive''.


    At first, the practical use of what the young mage was doing seemed little more than the exercise in minor extra-dimensional thinking he was acting out, limbering and toughening up his mind to the rigors that such a thing stressed it to do. That quickly changed the moment he managed to find the first functional overlap between two very different models. Upon seeing what he''d done, the practical application wasn''t only obvious, it was monumental.


    Unbeknownst to himself, he had slipped into a half trance state to better facilitate the superior ability of his soul''s creativity and memory retention with his physical mind''s more refined logical processes. He hadn''t registered his own sharp intake of breath or Stefen''s more subdued one. He was only subconsciously aware that the dhampir had sat down close by and began flipping through the ever changing models in the spellbook that had been made by the young mage for Hunter.


    Under Stefen''s gaze, the spell models and explanations written with Orison''s spirit essence augmented blood began shifting. Within the young mage''s spirit consciousness, successful connections of overlaps quickly revealed parts of the ''super'' model that were structurally sound and parts that were patently false. Sadly, the revelation was coming to an end because he was running out of models to add.


    Suddenly one, then another model appeared in his mind that he had never seen before but not wanting to look the gift horse in the mouth, he quickly went to work finding out where they went in the ''super'' model. A handful more hours went by before surprise models stopped flowing into his mind to be slapped in and invalidated except for the relevant and ''real'' parts.


    Orison snapped to with a screeching migraine and a fatigue that reached his very soul. He looked wearily over at Stefen. The dhampir was looking at him in amazement and horror.


    "You broke all of my magic!" Stefen said.


    The young mage blearily said, "Sorry?"


    "No, I mean... It''s just... What do we do to protect ourselves until I can rebuild them? I think what happened here is a wizard''s dream but I''ll have to relearn from scratch. I can''t unsee the truth but I don''t want to!" the dhampir said in excited agony.


    "We''ll figure it out," Orison said with a shrug before losing consciousness.


    He stirred to in the early hours of the morning. His head was still pounding but a healing and some medicine had him in decent standing as Stefen prepared to take his turn in peaceful temporary oblivion.


    "Wait, let me see the grimoire," he said.


    Stefen hesitantly handed it over and said, "Wake me when you''re ready to break some more magic, please. I don''t want to miss that. I was learning so much."


    Orison nodded. "It''ll take me some time to memorize a few well enough to add them anyway. It''s a good thing that I don''t really have to be able to cast them to do what I''m doing or that would have been the end of the road for awhile."


    While the dhampir slept, he looked at the spellbook he''d made for Hunter. The journal-like book had undergone a little growth at the expense of long term integrity. The ''blood'' ink had spread so thin it was almost invisible. To add pages, it had cannibalized leather, latex and silk to the point of moth wing fragility. Since it was Stefen''s way of following along, Orison took what materials he could and reinforced it.


    "Well, Roy. Wherever you are, thank you for the sacrifice of your collection of ''trophies'' and safety practices that made this spellbook possible. From here on out, it''s a job for the crystal matrix and a little creative substitution," Orison muttered.


    Before he started flipping through the grimoire for more spells to break, he reviewed the spellbook to see just how ''broken'' the magic in it had become. Two of the simple ones weren''t too bad off but spells that he had managed to find overlaps for were terribly invalidated, only having chunks of strokes spotted in one place or another.


    Orison sighed. "Look how far I''ve come. So much more knowledgeable and my power has grown to the point where I can barely cast a novice spell. I''m beginning to see the despair archmages must feel. A lifetime of magic study and they''re faced with the choice of ignoring the small snippets of truth they''ve uncovered to maintain their acquired power or starting from the beginning. Hell, some probably can''t because the loss of growth would equal instant death when their false tier fell.


    "Forced to live a lie or die... No wonder those old mages look so haggard and bitter. Even the best of them probably would be filled with wisdom induced depression. Maybe it really does take a kind of stubborn masochism to be a climber. They should call it ''Texas Two-Stepper'' instead, seeing how many times a person has to go backwards to find a way forwards again."


    With a sigh of aching nostalgia, the young mage began memorizing the forms of the models without much interest in what they actually did. In doing so, he was reminded of Lily''s words. Studying magic really was worthless to a climber outside of the theory building and momentary conveniences. The moment laws became the goal, all the ''good stuff'' was nearly stripped away but it was the path he had taken.


    "At least I haven''t spent decades learning it, sacrificing my ability to enjoy life to extend it out beyond a century only to reach the point I''m at now. I think I really would give up," he muttered as he continued to memorize.


    Nearly two days later, as a single forgotten invisible ''person'' continued cleaning while doing simple mending and repairs, Orison had finished ''breaking'' every spell in the grimoire. After a nap to readjust his mind, he stretched out and limbered up his stiff body.


    Stefen, working through some swordsmanship practice of his own, said, "What are the others on about? The disagreeable woman was gone for merely a moment."


    Working through the martial meditation drill he had pieced together, Orison said, "The barrow that stone doorway lead to was running significantly faster in time when she went. Cray told me that she had spent nearly four days when she had went. That time is slowing down and they are having to make several detours that she didn''t have to when she went on her own.


    "They''ve already transplanted the dryad''s tree and are returning now. In another day or two, they''ll be back. Three at the most."


    Slightly stumbling as he felt an unseen presence pass by him, the dhampir said, "Why haven''t you dismissed the pest? This cave isn''t going to get any cleaner."


    The young mage shrugged. "Well, once the little guy''s gone, it''ll be awhile before I could make another. They''ve been getting upgrades as I''ve been going along too. Keeping them up and running hasn''t been that strenuous and small little subconscious whims of mine have been motivating them to make a few nice changes to the place as well."


    Sighing, the dhampir added. "When the options dwindle, what''s an honorable to do? An annoying chambermaid is better than none at all... So, what are your plans moving forward, ''Oh, worthy mentor''?"


    Orison smirked. "What is there to do? I examine the abomination I''ve created for something usable. From there, I fill in blanks and start reconstructing spells again until I get more models to break, I guess."


    Stefen staggered again. "H-how many times have you done this?"


    "Notably? Three, maybe four times. I used to be able to summon golems the size of dire bears. Of course, at the time, I was in a place you''d hardly consider real if you were there. At least, if you were there when I was," the young mage said.


    "Heavens above and hells below. I was speaking of casseroles and soups while you have toiled to create the clearest of consomme. I can only imagine the potency and masterwork of magic constructed from such labor," the dhampir said, losing himself in daydream.


    The young mage chuckled. "Well, you won''t have to wait for very long. If I wasn''t eager to create a purely ''super'' model validated spell off my current understanding, you''d already have ''Ignite'', ''Degree Shift'' and ''Fire Shot''. I seriously think that the lich who that grimoire came from planned on suicide by sublime fire evocation magic."


    Stefen glanced at the nearly rendered useless grimoire and said, "Belphagius was a self loathing sort before his conversion if I remember stories correctly. That loathing increased afterwards. Many feared that he planned a coup. His penchant for magic that was the most dangerous to undead kind did little to ease those rumors."


    The young mage shook his head. "His only neighbors were undead and ocean. People tend to plan their defenses around the most likely threats. Believe me. He had plenty of contingencies to deal with water based adversity too."


    After they had completed their personal physical fitness routines, Orison broke out one of the last high quality bars that the mystery lady had left him and Cray. After relishing the rare treat in preemptive celebration, the young mage opened up the complex ''super'' model and began studying it for the first time instead of adding more. He was tempted to go for the easier victory of ''Ignite'' as his first ''pure'' concept spell but there seemed to be an importance to the event that had him looking at his magical ''first love'' instead.


    Tearing his gaze away from the tight cluster of fire and heat related model pieces, he focused in on where ''Mend'' was. Though not as tightly clustered and illuminated, over half the models he had known connected to or overlapped into its area in some way. Even the lost and regained innate ability of healing he had reversed engineered into a spell model was intimately entangled with it.


    "If I can get this one, then I have a real foothold into a large chunk of my concepts. Due to that old and almost completely invalidated hunter''s spell, I even have a tie in back to heat. Mending to healing, to positive energy, to radiation and blam. Anyway..." he thought before clearing his mind to focus on the task of filling in the small remaining gaps.


    He hadn''t expected it to be easy but half a day later he had to take a break with not even a third of the remaining holes filled. Without references to help him, he could have floundered on it for a lifetime but every validated connection he found, the next came a bit faster. After another small nap and another light meal to stimulate his mind, he returned to the task.


    "So, how much longer til we are bestowed the magnificent power to light candles and start a campfire?" Stefen said cheekily.


    Without diverting much attention, Orison said, "Can''t sleep. Clowns will eat me... That''s on the to-do list after Mend."


    The dhampir sighed. "The ability to fix a ripped shirt takes precedence over the ability to survive winter conditions with heat, warm meals and bathwater that won''t cause a person to catch deathly chills? The frivolous aristocrat in me applauds you, truly."


    In annoyance, Orison slapped unverified connectors on the three fire based spells so that the dhampir would have something to study and stop pacing around. "The slightly paler parts aren''t confirmed. Have fun learning garbage that''s ''almost'' right."


    Stefen chuckled. "Wizards spend their whole lives relearning garbage that''s ''almost'' right. That doesn''t stop their magic from destroying things."


    With the dhampir distracted, the young mage returned to his labor of ''love''. What he didn''t take into account or even really think about was the fact that Stefen was, first and foremost, not a wizard but a pact caster. In the past, the man had thrown imitations of hell-rime and brimstone fire around. He wasn''t without his own insights.


    As connections fell into place, Orison sunk into half trance and then deeper into a full meditative state, as if he was contemplating some mandala of profound magnitude. That wasn''t particularly wrong either. Considering the nature of his ''super'' model, hole riddled and sparse as it was, it was chalked full of other mage''s hard earned wisdom.


    Entranced as he was, he missed the moment where Stefen completed the Ignite model''s missing completeness with personal understandings. Such an event was far more meaningful than simply being handed a complete one and resulted in a step baptism. Had the dhampir been handed a previously completed version or had the completed version already been completed in the world they were on, such an event wouldn''t have occurred.


    Through their connection, a small share of Stefen''s first baptism wandered over to Orison, his ''due'' as patron. Under its stimulus, the young mage made a sudden intuitive leap and finished the last handful of connections at once, completing Mend while under meditative contemplation of his ''super'' model as a whole. For the briefest of moments, he sensed a law.


    There was a possibility it would have happened anyway. After all the work he''d poured into constructing the visual representation of all the magical progress he''d made, completing a small but crucial spot of it may have been enough. It no longer mattered as he was immersed in a second fourth step baptism along with officially becoming a fourth tier. It was a special moment that no one was particularly witness to but the world, a world that didn''t welcome a newborn demigod level power not under its control.

 232 The Fool 37

    The occasion may not have had a dedicated observer but that did not mean it went unnoticed. The various phenomenon and much stronger step baptism washed over Stephen who was stunned senseless by the overwhelming sensation of his first. That prematurely stimulated the forming of an unstable second step ring around his sluggish soul.


    ***


    In a distant and slightly removed plane, Cray felt a powerful sense of awe and clarity settle within him. His third step ring that was on the verge of collapse, stabilized and the conceptual form of a ghostly bow within the archer''s spiritual consciousness became the fragile shadow of a conduit. Through the spiritual mark, he could sense how deeply Orison was concentrating. Although he didn''t know what had happened, he could sense that it was an important moment and was eager for the young mage''s next communication to ask.


    ***


    The stirring of magic and spiritual essence within the cave had some interesting effects on the two magical constructions there as well. A semi conscious, shadowy domestic spirit went about its tasks with a renewed and self driven sense of importance. A magic circle that had been dormant for nearly two centuries soaked in ambient essence while the shadowy creature flitting about became aware of its existence.


    ***


    A far roving band of goblinoids that had been coaxed closer to the cave for unknown purpose by an unknown power, scattered in fear before a sensation that they had no way of defining. Sensitives that happened to be near the other side of the shining wall that night turned restlessly for a reason they could not name. Both parties sought what comfort they could in the knowledge that they were out of reach of whatever had disturbed them.


    ***


    A reluctant soldier of demonic forces that wandered weak and lost through the deep paths, thought that they had found hope only to be crushed under despair. The way out they had found was utterly blocked by fallen debris despite the few glimmers of fresh air and light that seeped through a few cracks. A large swarm of bats disturbed from their hibernation seemed to screech mockingly at their plight.


    Crawling his way through the bats'' leavings, he saw the source of light. A young man sitting in meditation, still radiant with the light he had first seen, faded from existence as a dark haired, fair skinned man awoke from his own musings. That man locked onto the dark elf which quickly threw his hands up, in no condition to fight.


    "Did you do this?" Stefen said.


    In fearful confusion, pupils constricted to pinpricks under the glaring light of the banishment circle, the elven man said, "I was attracted by the light. I do not know what I am seeing."


    Stefen took in the malnourished and bedraggled stranger and said, "Here are two days rations. Remain here and tell the ones who come that their friend Orison has been taken by the banishment circle... somehow. My name is Stefen. Tell them that I followed after him to ensure his safety. Cray may take pity on your plight and lend you additional aid."


    The elven man slammed his fist against his breastplate weakly and sat down as if the motion had taken what little energy he had left. "Tell that man, Orison, I owe him a debt of service. My name is..."


    Stefen, who had already stepped into the circle, disappeared before the elf could declare his name.


    ***


    Orison snapped out of trance floating weightlessly through the void. Assessing his situation, there wasn''t much to see. Drawing on the key, he reached out to find that Cray could barely hear him and that Stephen was desperately fighting a downward pull to a location few, if any, would care to go. While he was filled in by Stefen and relating information to the archer, Orison yanked with the power of his conduit.


    While attempting to pull Stefen to his side, he felt that he''d dragged the dhampir through a connection to some elsewhere. It was disconcerting but he felt assured that he at least had shifted the man from a definite grim fate to an unknown one. Since he couldn''t pull Stefen back out, he tried to use his key to follow instead.


    Getting closer, he could vaguely sense the existence of an entrance to somewhere. It wasn''t the exact same place that the dhampir had gone but it was linked and that was about as good as he could get because it became quickly apparent that he was either going to have to put the key away or send it elsewhere. Wherever he was going, his space and the Entanglement Key were going to be restricted.


    Before he sent the key to Cray, thinking that it might help the man reach him at some point, he exercised a bit of attraction power through it using ''Locate Objective'' and the bit of telekinetic ability he had. The thought was, if this is where things passed when they were banished, there might be some abandoned things in the space. He wasn''t wrong.


    In the weightless surroundings, a little bit of telekinesis went a long way, both figuratively and literally. A couple of dead bodies, a few random items and a couple of familiar ones came to him. He felt like he could have reached for more but he was running out of time to send the key and he still had to sort things.


    In the last few moments after sending the key to Cray, he tossed all he could into the triangular storage device. He hid it on his person before he went through the barely perceived crack into what he thought was an adjoining plane. Through the flashes of passing layers, he realized it was an adjoining reality that merely neighbored outer planes with the world he had left.


    As he fell from a great height once he passed through into material existence, Orison almost felt like laughing. He was in the same situation as the shadow Orison that had died in his dream. He also realized that he wasn''t in the mid dimensions at all. He never had been. Even the expanse of realities that Keita had passed and Amoril itself were merely in an expanse that divided the low from the mid dimensions. The only Orison that had fully made it to the other side in life was ''Red'' Orison, the part that was wholly made of ''the boy''.


    Keita''s misunderstanding about what she sensed was almost entirely Orison''s fault due to his flawed understanding. It suddenly made sense why she had found a place that passed a handful of people into the ''high dimensions'' every generation. It was because the ''high'' that Keita had perceived WAS the ''mid''. The place where she had chosen to be reborn was merely a hair''s breadth from being in the mid dimensions properly itself.


    Focusing back on his current dilemma, he realized that his over robe was handling it fairly well already. A slight amount of magic essence flowed along his connection to the suit to support a parachute-like effect that was actually mostly non-magical in nature. If there was one complaint about it that he''d voice in front of it''s convenient saving grace, it would be a lack of gliding that should have been evident in the build for very little extra effort or magic expenditure.


    "It would have been far less grand and graceful but I have enough supernatural might of my own to pull off a friggin straight down descent with no glide. At least, I''m pretty sure I do. At some point, I''ll try out my idea when it isn''t do or die," he muttered.


    Using Find Objective, he tried to latch onto the presence of a nearby person who would be neutral or better in temperament towards him. The last bit was more wishful thinking than something he actually believed that Find Objective could do but didn''t see where it would hurt. With a little hope that the intent would help, he used his own body and weak telekinesis to do what he was still mentally bickering his robe should be doing anyway.


    "I''m grateful to have this suit and it''s amazing. But an obvious design oversight and being amazing despite that, are two different things." The young mage realized that he was rambling to distract himself from the fear of unknown circumstances that he''d be facing alone.


    Once he had cleared the dense blanket of stagnant clouds, Orison surveyed the land below to realize that it was a fairly large swampy marsh he''d be landing in. If it wasn''t for the fact that the direction he was reaching for was heading relatively near the outer edge of the place, he would have abandoned his original objective to focus solely on escaping landing in it at all.


    "What the hell is it with me and swamps or muddy sh*tholes!? Can we not, Greater Reality? Can we not do any more of these? I mean, I''ll take it over the vastness of space with no life in sight for light years or some other grim, insanity inducing nightmare. But as long as a whole planet or plane is on the table, maybe we could go for a nice meadow. Maybe a beach with a snack bar or something."


    Upon awkwardly landing and being buried into muck up to his shoulders, he checked the status of his spacial and innate powers. "Things can come out but won''t go back in without a lot of juice and concentration. I can''t do the living portal thing but I can ghost. It''s still expensive as all get out but... there really isn''t a but. It''s just friggin expensive. On the plus side, ghosting with weak telekinesis equals floating!"


    With relief, he found that there weren''t any issues with the triangular storage device. The current reality may have been restrictive about his space but was extra kind to him being a ''patron''. Although he couldn''t speak to Stefen, he could vaguely sense and send emotional impressions. He could also send and receive small things.


    Of the random things he grabbed, one of them was the package that Noxflora sent him. He had no idea how it ended up out in the ''space between places'' but the reason he found it above other possibilities was because there was some kind of effect on it that drew it to him.


    "Aww... It''s a portable apothecary''s cabinet and a sweet little thank you note from Mr Wei''s niece, Ying Yue. Oh, she''s been logging some serious hours with the witches. Every single drawer has a preservation enchantment with a few different features. I''ll put these weird little flowers that Stefen sent me in this empty one.


    "I swear, if I found out HE got placed in a meadow, we''re going to have words, Greater Reality. Well, I don''t want him to be in the stink anyway. He''s got coins, a couple of gems, some medicine and some food. I need to worry about me now."


    As he was slogging along, testing his one and only full concept magic and the tiny mote of law revealed by it, he stopped. Within his spirit sight, the young mage saw a huge outline of a creature crouched under nearby murky water. It was slowly creeping closer to a cluster of deer taking turns sipping at a relatively muck free spot.


    "My gawd, it''s undead spider baby''s long lost grandfather! I don''t know which I want more, a mother figure to comfort me or the ability to call a missile strike," the young mage thought.


    As a test, he reached out telepathically to the matron doe and projected the sense of ''danger from the water''. The elder doe didn''t immediately look to the water but towards his direction. The strangeness of his appearance alarmed her all the same. As she tapped the ground to get everyone''s attention and slowly lead them back into a nearby thicket, she watched him closely.


    Once they were out of the way, he inched closer to the water as a sewing needle slipped out of his hand to hover. "If you''re smart enough to move on, ugly, you live. If you pounce up at me, you-"


    The creature lunged at him. Orison circulated the stored essence in his legs and bound backwards behind a nearby gnarly rooted tree. Snapping at the air, the thing gave chase. With the small illusion of safety the tree gave him, the young mage gathered his courage to stand ground until the thing moved close enough for him to pull off a kinetic shove of the needle into one of it''s two large eyes.


    His brain trembled under the strain of pushing through to the brain tissue behind as it flinched back under the unexpected prick of pain. With a finger snap for dramatic flair, he activated the ''mending'' temporarily stored in the needle. Although he couldn''t see it, Orison knew that the needle was branching out into a delicate burr of fiber thin extensions.


    It didn''t die easy or quietly. The eerily old man faced looking giant arachnid thrashed and screamed for half a minute before its legs finally curled up underneath it while it laid immobile on its back. Under spirit sight, Orison wasn''t fooled. He didn''t know how but the abomination was still alive and even showing signs of recovery.


    It might have been supernaturally tough physically but spiritually, it was nearly void of protection, displaying its no soul status keenly. The young mage might not have the key but it was made from himself which meant that he had the ability to utilize it features to a minor degree. Reaching out with his intent, he connected with the needle that had been touched by his essence and caused it to rotate.


    The creature was up and thrashing again but the second go round wasn''t as strong. It was erratic and sluggish and its screams were more pitiful than shrill. The young mage squashed a momentary feeling of pity, knowing the creature would have had none if it could have snatched him.


    Once spirit sight showed that the creature had breathed its last, he checked on the state of the needle. The essence that had been pushed through it had ruined it to the point that creating a fresh one from scratch would involve less energy and effort than trying to fix it. Exercising the law touching concept was much different than the spell itself. It messed with bonds on the molecular level which meant that if it wasn''t used carefully, he would ruin the inherent memory of its pattern making things un-fixable.


    Done with his experiment and racing heart returning to normal, he said cheerily, "That wasn''t so bad. Now Miss Doe Matron can have a safe drinking area for her posse a little while. That is, assuming I can figure out how to move this thing away so it doesn''t attract scavengers and other predators."


    A deep and wary voice to the side said, "I could help with that."


    A middle aged man nearing his late fifties but looking like he was still fit and armed enough to take on the world leaned against a tree, deceptively relaxed looking. Orison took in the special black leathers that hid extra protection for vital areas around the torso, weary but neutral amber eyes and the assortment of edged weapons.


    "Uh, sure. You need some help for that help or do you got this?" Orison said in his best ''friendly'' voice.


    The man eyed him back and said, "I wouldn''t say no to an extra pair of hands but I''d feel a lot more at ease if I could see your face."


    "Promise you won''t try to stick something in it and I don''t mind flashing you my pearly whites but I didn''t bring bug repellent," the young mage said.


    After getting a relatively half hearted agreement not to stab his face as long as he didn''t give a reason for it needing done, Orison deactivated the helmet. The man''s eyes looked at him as if they could see through him and perhaps they could. There was a soft illumination behind them not unlike Orison''s own.


    "Your master some kind of tough love teacher? What''s a kid who can''t even grow whiskers yet doing all the way out here?" The man said as he tossed the young mage a small stone jar that smelled of citronella.


    For the sake of playing by social rules, he dabbed a bit on and tossed it back before mirroring the man''s hold on the creature. He quickly found out that the stranger was a great deal stronger than him, a touch supernaturally so. Running a small trickle of essence into the suit, he could somewhat keep up enough to barely be more help than hindrance.


    "Baby smooth is a lifetime default for this face, I''m afraid. Not that you''ll hear me griping about it. Imagine all I''ll save on time and razors," the young mage said, feeling oddly chipper in his slightly unbalanced state.


    Ignoring the evasiveness over mentorship, the man said, "Can''t disagree with that."

 233 The Fool 38

    "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr..." the man prompted.


    The young mage smiled and said, "Just Orison. Are you trying to take years off my life by calling me Mr... Uh, Mr..."


    The man gave a thin smile and replied, "I''m off then, Orison. Let people think you''re a youngster. Sorcerers of the Brotherhood may prize elven blood but the common man around these parts won''t warm up to you very far. If need be, you can always tell them that you have a little islander heritage but that won''t stop the mean spirited."


    The young mage said, "I''d rather travel alongside than follow like a whipped dog. I''m heading to the nearest town but I''m not overly familiar with these parts."


    The man grumbled, "I was afraid you''d say that."


    With an annoyed thumb jerk, he pointed at the back lip of the cart. Once Orison was settled into place, they were on their way after the donkey pulling it gave the young mage the stink eye. Through stilted conversation that grew ever more strained as they reached nightfall, the young mage learned enough about the prices of things and the surrounding area that he could at least buy something without immediately being taken advantage of.


    As the man set up camp, he said, "I don''t share tents, so..."


    Orison chuckled and set up his own, even supplemented the man''s jerky with some trail mix that came with Osomo''s care packages. He agonized over it for awhile but ended up bringing out the opened bottle of Doc Agave that was starting to show signs of not adjusting to extra-dimensional travel. After taking a couple of shots, he set the rest down between them as open invitation without directly offering.


    The man agonized over internal issues himself before accepting. But after getting over the hump of the first drink, the man quickly followed it by three more like he was afraid his road companion would put it away if it was set down. The young mage could hardly blame him.


    Like where Keita had gone, this world was close to the edge of the wide divide to the mid dimensions. It was certainly close enough to pretty much follow the more rigid law possessed there. The drink that could restore over a decade before losing that part of its benefits where it was made, did little more than shave a couple of years off at best. Its real benefit was the easing of the endless litany of wound remnants spread throughout the older adventurer''s body.


    The man smirked but didn''t add anything. After another shot apiece, he let the man put away the rest. "Friendly acquaintanceship is the beginning of true friends. There''s no push. It''ll be what it will be."


    The man nodded and said, "Jarvis of Rivendale. Maybe you''ve heard of me?"


    "No but that''s not such a bad thing. I can make up my mind what kind of person you are without rumors and stories getting in the way," Orison said sagely.


    Jarvis looked a little forlorn as he said, "A man who has little else craves for his name and deeds to live after him, at least."


    "Well, I''m a p*ss poor example of a learned person. My interests are very narrow. What I know passably well wouldn''t even fill a decent sized bookshelf," the young mage exclaimed.


    "I couldn''t tell. You play the part of scholar so well," the man said in good-natured sarcasm.


    Sobering to a grim face, he added, "At least I know what your master was thinking but he went about it the wrong way. You''re going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."


    "If it won''t strain your doubtlessly tired and overused vocal cords, maybe you could highlight the worst of it for me," Orison said, trying not to let the dire prediction ruin his fragile good mood.


    Jarvis stared into the small campfire for awhile and said, "The worst? Obvious signs of elven blood and magic. Your master flung you into the heart of the Sisterhood''s domain. A month''s travel in any direction would take you from most of the persecution of both your heritage and being a male sorcerer."


    Thinking deeply, Orison said, "What can I expect and what could a woman not of the Sisterhood expect?"


    Jarvis said, "If you''re caught, bend the knee and take the brand of whatever mistress you''re assigned to or have your magic burned out of you. A free woman may choose if she''s seen as worthy. Those who become part of the Sisterhood play the same games you''d expect. Those who don''t, can''t officially or legally make a living with their art outside of healing. There''s never enough of that kind to go around."


    Orison thought out loud, "That''s kind of harsh."


    The older man snorted and said, "Shoe was on the other foot not a generation ago. It doesn''t take a lot of imagination to figure out how those women were treated. The Sisterhood is strict. But believe me, they''re a lot softer handed than the old Brotherhood used to be."


    The conversation died after that. Before retiring, Orison talked the man into lending one of each different type of coin Jarvis had. Retiring to their own tents, the young mage spent some time converting his own coinage into a variety outside of what the world automatically stamped the survivors into.


    It was a harsh and unforgiving kind of world. And even though he would have been financially fine where he was, it was obvious that he''d be moving on quickly. Few things made a person stand out in dangerous ways more than using another kingdom''s coins and the adventurer''s stash spoke of many kingdoms.


    After exhausting himself stashing a few small bags he wouldn''t be using for some time into his inner space, the young mage was ready for sleep. That sleep barely lasted long enough for him to feel refreshed as he woke up from an anxiety fueled nightmare. Since he wouldn''t be getting back to rest, Orison used the time to do a round of martial and magic meditation to add the edge back on and banish the last vestiges of fatigue.


    The next morning, camp was broken down quickly and Jarvis said, "You sure you want to head into town?"


    Steeling his resolve, Orison said, "As long as I kept the faith with you and your life wasn''t on the line, could I trust you?"


    The man looked at him skeptically and said, "I don''t know why you''d take my word on it... Yes. But just so you know, I WILL choose my life. I''m no coward and I have my own bottom line but don''t expect too much from me."


    Orison nodded. "My biggest problems are something you can help me fix but it might be a bit jarring for you... visually."


    The man''s face grew tight and wariness had returned. "Go on."


    "I can use a trick to take on another form. I don''t get much say in it, as it will make me look like what the first person who touches me afterwards... wants," Orison said.


    Grimly, a look the man had obviously mastered long ago, Jarvis said, "Are you a demon or a doppelganger?"


    The young mage said, "No. I was once a human and even though I don''t identify AS one I still identify with humans... and being a man, no matter what I look like."


    Jarvis wasn''t fully satisfied until Orison volunteered a few drops of blood for the older adventurer to pour some things on. "Now, I''m more curious than anything. Are you sure this takes nothing from me?"


    "Just a blueprint for another form. I''ll relax the pattern of my physical vessel and we can fist bump a month of my traveling''s problems away. Well, my two biggest ones, according to you..." the young mage said.


    With a large towel in one hand, he relaxed the pattern of his form and deactivated his suit. Reaching out a fuzzy, slightly luminescent fist, he knocked it against the partially swollen and scarred knuckles of Jarvis''. With the towel draped down between him and the older adventurer, he checked himself out.


    He thought, "Pail hair, peach skin and modest proportions. I can live with that. If I was any younger, it would be disturbing and I don''t like how fragile I look but it could be a whole lot worse."


    A little later and back in his suit, Orison was pacing alongside the donkey with Jarvis as the older adventurer looked him over with a derisive glare. "I want my money back."


    Orison said, "Uh, I gave it to you this morning?"


    The man cracked a thin smile, easily missed, as he said, "I meant that you said you would look like what I ''wanted''. You don''t look anything like that."


    The young mage smiled brightly and said, "Your disappointment is my joy."


    As they lapsed into another long bout of silence, Orison thought, "I''m not a succubus... or rather incubus... whatever. Only the simplest of people would see the same person on me as one of those demons. They have a short term need to lure prey. I have an ability built around a longer view. And at its heart, its a far more insidious one.


    "Jarvis has lived a long life as a... whatever he actually is. He''s used to pursuing momentary pleasures. Somewhere along the way, he''s partially convinced himself that''s all he wants but in the deep of night, the hollowness of his existence eats at him. He''d be horrified, I think, if he knew how much of a billboard for his soft spots I actually am. Youth, innocence and lets not forget WEAK.


    "Poor, deluded guy. What you see when you look at me isn''t your vision of lust, it''s your vision of love. It''s what you would treasure and protect, give your life for. I''m perfectly happy with you remaining blissfully unaware. I hope it stays that way and we can part on friendly terms."


    With a plethora of small worries plaguing him, the young mage asked, "I promise, this isn''t going to become an annoying reoccurring question. How much longer til we arrive?"


    The man said, "Midday tomorrow if the weather holds. Would that it could be sooner. This carcass is already attracting flies. By tomorrow..."


    Motivated by mundane desires, Orison turned to the completion of Degree Shift. With no particular defensive magic relatively near completion, he decided to at least be comfortable and clean. Keeping from having to smell a rotting carcass he was riding with was a plus.


    When they stopped for the donkey''s midday break, the man faced spider thing was chilled to just above freezing. He was ready to step up and make the evening campfire a literal snap too. Instead of setting his gaze to the Fire Shot spell, however, he moved on to the Light spell. Illuminating more of the bridge between healing and heat seemed much more important.


    Some instinct and inner desire made him shy away from recklessly pursuing destructive forces. Working him back towards positive energy wasn''t something that would only increase his healing ability, however. The world he was in resided in a darker shade of gray, balance wise. And the ancient hunter spell was far more suited to defending from its ills than simple fire alone.


    If it came down to it, he could always refer back to Stefen''s changes in the spellbook for a hasty complete. But, he knew that wouldn''t get him the same kind of comprehension reward as working on it himself would provide. He also still felt that the early revelations would shape end results.


    There were parts of his ''super'' model that touched on things that even his special sight couldn''t help him with. Those things were far beyond him and delved into mysteries at the core of law when he was using a back door to catch glimpses of superficial understandings. There were no shortcuts there. Or at least, none that he knew or could use. What he knew or felt he did, was that staying true to ones own inner nature, as they wanted to be, held stronger meaning.


    Aside from a few needful interactions, they passed the majority of the afternoon as they had the morning, in silence. When Orison would feel mentally and spiritually fatigued, he would meditate, stretch his legs and start again. Jarvis appreciated the silence and seemed a bit surprised at how well the young mage fit into it. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was there but the comfort another presence brought to lonely travel lingered.


    While they set up camp that evening, Jarvis said, "Why do you look so tired? You didn''t do anything."


    Orison smiled bitterly. "The average person burns one fifth of the energy they get from food... with their brain. I was probably clocking two, if not more, times that amount. And nothing is more exhausting than mental fatigue. It just... takes the color out of everything."


    The man looked at the young mage sharply. "And what, pray tell, were you doing with all that extra thinking?"


    Projecting more cheer than he actually felt, Orison said as he grasped at the sky, "Making the forces of existence my b*tch."


    Lowering his hand and looking tiredly at the campfire, "Relearning the Mage Light spell... correctly. Take my word for it, it might take an apprentice months to learn the spell but the spell they learn is garbage."


    Jarvis sighed. "Forget I asked. All sorcerers think their special version of something is the best."


    "You''ve seen another sorcerer cast a simple Ignite, right? That''s the one most use to light candles and fireplaces until they run a full circle around a spell that place holds a lot of those minor little tricks." Orison said.


    The older adventurer nodded.


    "Then, watch this," the young mage added as he cast an Ignite onto the cup of water he hadn''t finished.


    A faint blue flame that didn''t produce much heat danced on the surface of the water while small bubbles rose up out of it.


    Puzzled, the man said, "You''re holding a magic flame over water? That''s not really..."


    Orison chuckled barely registering that the voice he had turned it into a foreign, musical sound. "I''m not ''holding'' anything. It''s still going off that small magical charge I put in. It''s ''burning'' the water. Well, it''s more complicated than that but the action and conversion are actually scary simple."


    Jarvis looked at the young mage in concern and said, "I don''t know if I want to believe you. If such a simple magic..."


    The young mage watched the flame finally flicker its last as the tiny bit of magic that supported the process was finally exhausted. "That''s right. A simple ignite spell was refined to the point where it could initiate a chain reaction that allowed water to burn for a few seconds. It didn''t even cost any more than usual."


    Orison looked up to see that Jarvis was staring at him with heavy, mixed emotion and gave the man a reassuring smile. "But I didn''t do it so that I can make a fireball capable of burning down a village, unable to be put out. I did it because I''m connecting a bridge between heat and healing... Have you ever wondered how your body turns that jerky you lean on so much into the building blocks that stitch you back together while you tear yourself apart in fights and whatnot?


    "There are tiny little chemical fires going off all over you, all the time. As a well traveled man, I know you know that eating will raise your body temperature by a bit. It''s all those little combustions going off all over us that make us produce body heat at all..."


    He explained for a bit more and seeing that Jarvis was no longer alarmed but growing bored, he said, "So, I''m creating things above and beyond the standard by so much they are terrifying. But where I''m reaching for, that''s the baseline. Without that deep of an understanding, I''ll be next to powerless."


    After that, Orison left the speechless man to mull over his thoughts and called it a night after a surprisingly unpleasant Degree Shift to clean himself. Having called his night so early, he was up hours before dawn. Ironically, within the silence and darkness, he made leaps and bounds on the light spell.


    Unknowingly, he had fallen into a light trance yet again. As he finished up the spell, connections that interplayed between certain models practically aligned themselves in his mind. A reminder from Jarvis let him realize that quite some time had passed and it was already dawn.


    While he cast another Degree Shift on the carcass for the older adventurer, he said, "I''m on the verge of a breakthrough on something important. Since I have a solid road to follow, I should be alright now. Hopefully, it won''t take that long and I''ll catch back up with you. But if I don''t, thanks for the lift."


    The older adventurer paused for a moment but continued packing up with no comment.


    Right before he got the donkey moving, he said, "If you run into troubles from dumb men who don''t know how to leave you alone, feel free to use my name and say you''ve got a room at the Red Brick Inn. If you run into trouble with gate guards bringing me up is only going to make it worse."

 234 The Fool 39

    Quietly muttering to himself, Orison said, "Heat, light and radiation link extensively to this mysterious positive energy that''s used in healing and neutralizing negative energy based stuff. Because of kinetic principle, I can see runners connecting to spacial concepts along pathways of transition as well. Those same transition principles let me see vaguely downward into places I''ve never really considered studying much.


    "Oh my god! Negative energy has more connections to Cure Disease and Poison that positive does despite practically being conjoined twins to healing! Following that, I see connections to cold in there too but cold is an abyss of no-go. It''s like there''s some sort of null at it''s heart that''s as close to ''nothing'' as reality can know. If I can-


    "Are you serious!? I''m out of memory space again? If I get rid of much more, this matrix is going to be useless. If only I had one with bigger stor...age... No. This is wrong. This is so far beyond what I can personally visualize, I can''t even begin to imagine when I could. If I had a bigger matrix, I''d only have a bigger dependency.


    "This isn''t MY way. This is a whole different path. Somewhere out there is probably a person who''s so artificially augmented that they can''t be seen as organic anymore or little more than a monstrous mass of connected brain matter. That''s not the way I want to go at all!


    "Maybe it won''t stay that way forever but I want my soul to be the heavy lifter. It has its own space to contain and make it safe to connect with a physical vessel. I am far, far from the point I want to disassociate with being a ''people''. How do I take this stuff and make it mine in a way that''s still me and not ''me with a chip'' that can be lost, broken or corrupted?"


    Orison combed through his experiences. In the first two worlds, he and ''the boy'' never really had the need for a spellbook to hold what they knew because they didn''t know much. As he traveled between realities, that knowledge became internalized, held by his soul. It had condensed into concepts.


    All he had been doing the past few days was decompressing to challenge and remove parts that were proven false with external aid. There wasn''t a need for him to ''know'' all the models. He just needed the concepts re-compressed into their essential states.


    "Come on... I know you can do this. I KNOW you can. So many have done it before you with a lot less help. I''m bu-" Orison thought before he was distracted by a tiny mote of faith essence forming and melting into his soul.


    "I-I''m building my tower. Not just a nebulous, theoretical one but a real tower that represents my path. It''s not the tower of faith, waiting for divine intervention. I believe in myself.


    "It''s not a path of scientists or technomancers. It''s not a pure path of magic, even. Since the beginning, the soul has been my center base of operation, and magic has been the light I use to reveal things. I''ve been leaning too heavily on science as the tools of measurement and understanding but it IS undeniably useful, especially with the little mind-to-spirit lubricant that a touch of psionics has provided."


    A shout of ''I''m building my soul tower!'' was halted as another barely visible mote of the mysterious ''faith'' essence formed and melted into his soul. He suddenly realized a few things in quick succession at that moment. He felt he knew how he had ''saved'' the Entanglement Key. He hadn''t saved it at all. He had remade it.


    The mysterious essence he had arbitrarily labeled as ''faith'' was too ''mysterious'' and beyond comprehension for such a small minded concept to encompass it. It could turn someone into a god. He was almost certain that it was responsible for the forming of conduits. He was less sure but highly suspicious of its role in creation itself.


    "Gods demand it in return for miracles. Chrism wrings it out to produce expressions of potential and make or strengthen conduits. I''m fairly convinced its the force that stamps order into chaos in the image of its wielder.


    "No wonder Sammy tried to warn us not to play games with it. Every mote produced is more precious to its maker than any other essence. If it''s what''s needed to mold chaos into ordered creation, then it''s what I need to make my tower within my soul!"


    ***


    In a flash of creativity inspired daydream or desperation induced hallucination, Orison saw a blasted and rocky landscape. Lightless skies occasionally erupted with streaks of lightning to reveal madness inducing storm clouds of chaos roiling above a ruined structure, ancient and decrepit. The occasional small mote of wholesome light sunk into barren soil or slag topped ruin only to draw destruction from above in silent, negative image flashes.


    A sense of dread filled him but he felt how fragile the moment was. If he ran away from it, some precious chance would be lost for lifetimes or possibly forever. For all the complex meaning to it, the choice was simple. He could embrace the raw chaos whipped ruins with all its hidden treasures and dangers or wipe it clean into the void and start over.


    He had never been that brave or adventurous. But, there was one trait he did possess that wouldn''t let him turn away. The once glorious thing the ruin had been, he wanted to fix it because it felt like him, the old him. That feeling held a ringing truth beyond the shallow sympathy that spawned it. The easier, safer and healthier path of a fresh start felt like letting go and he had only recently learned how to do that. The ancient echoes of pain and despair trapped within the cracked foundation and crumbling masonry possessed and ensnared him.


    He could have fought free if he had wanted to but he didn''t. Instead, he took everything that he had achieved, all the potential that he owned and poured it into the cracks. They were deep, far deeper than he had imagined and all that he had barely sealed the smallest one.


    ***


    Orison''s eyes flew open with a start. He felt listless, hollow. The young mage raised a delicate, withered hand and felt awe. He would have felt more but terror required energy and more effort than he could muster. Looking around, he knew what it meant to be a shadow in a bright world.


    In that first moment, he felt the ghost of relief that he was inside a tent. There was a sense of being so greatly insubstantial that a single piercing of sunlight from the bright and sharp world around him would have been the end. No sooner had the thought entered his mind, his eyes grew dim, one step closer to utter oblivion.


    Searching within and without, he spent the last wisps of lifeforce he possessed to find something to restore a wisp more. Magic channels trembled and broke under the strain of simply bringing out the medicine cabinet from the storage device. Porous and brittle bones fractured from opening drawers.


    As first one raw ingredient joined another in his mouth, enamel flaked and teeth fractured from chewing. The esophagus tore and bled from the passing of them into an ulcer riddled and failing stomach. Sluggish blood pumped and nerves fired from the magic and spirit essence reserves stored in the most hidden of places within his body alone. Had it not been for that, he might have already perished but he pushed the thought away before he could finish thinking it.


    While mild medicinal power ravaged organs too frail to even withstand their pacified strength, Orison harnessed that energy to turn within. A weak spark of a soul sputtered on the brink of snuffing out as the layered space collapsed back in on itself. Turning a blind eye to it, he searched for the very best of his life saving and soul nourishing medicines. With a sigh, he added them to the blaze of rampant cremation consuming all that he was.


    Under the brief stay of execution, an ancient voice that was his own said, "Do you regret?"


    A defiant dying cluster of brain cells and wisp of spiritual consciousness returned, "What is there to regret? I''m too poor in all things to spend it on regret."


    In what felt like ages to accomplish, he unzipped a portion of flap over a screened section of tent. A flit of feather light refreshing breeze circulated in, threatening to scatter him. It scoured through him, lifting out both alien and familiar dark vapors to disburse into the air. It was the remnants of the negative energy that empowered the undead body he had claimed mixed with some other cursed essence of unknown origin.


    Weaker still, yet internally invigorated, he endured the agony of opening the tent entrance and standing up on a grinding and splintering frame. With glacier movements, he creeped out. Rheumy and cataract filled eyes squinted at the vast shower of fractal, prismatic rainbows raining down upon the world around him as he held a hand out past the protective shade.


    Broken sunlight filtered through tree leaves to pierce the shadowy, nearly translucent palm. He couldn''t see but he could feel the tiny pinpricks of bombarding rays mostly pierce through his palm as small bits careened and ricocheted within, spreading destruction and change in their passing. The sensation sparked activity within dead protein covered synapses and gossamer spiritual essence.


    The echoes of recent labor illuminated a bridge between the destructive forces of fire and radiation to life sustaining energy. As the thready pulse of a heart stopped beating, the understanding of conversion from one major force to another bloomed into another minuscule morsel of revealed law. A baptism attempted to descend upon the shadowy remnant dissolving under the light but it was intercepted by a force of such stygian depths that the surrounding world saw and felt nothing of it.


    The passive but overwhelming force drew two more baptisms of ever greater magnitude before not even its dark gravity could wrest more than Greater Reality spared for any mortal creature. It had taken all in but for a ghostly shell of a physical pattern supplied by someone else''s imaginings and two anchoring spiritual tethers which it could not. With nothing left to take, the force triggered by sacrifice returned to its settled state.


    As with all things, an action has its reaction. An ancient, fathomless curse that had lingered past both its maker and designed target, violently expelled from that stygian depth, dragging things with it in its passing. The path of least resistance to its release, a dissipating shell. And all that it carried, deposited within as it moved on.


    A flash of bleak scenery displayed itself once more. The madness inducing chaos was hidden behind dreary clouds that filtered weak light onto a dismal landscape. Seven lead colored rings draped around a ruin that the lightning overhead could only touch in a mild static. The sprinkle of a handful of mysterious essence motes sunk into the ruin with the overhead wrath too impotent to completely eradicate.


    Orison was shunted, poured back into his outer self. Nearly imploded to a vastly different kind of oblivion, he was severed of everything but his connection to Cray and Stefen by the passing of a desolate weave of will strong enough to erase realities. Yet, it was so self contained that it passed without a single trace. He had never felt so alone and insignificant.


    He had wanted to build a tower in his soul capable of holding his comprehension of law. It was an action that he didn''t think would have been nearly as traumatizing had he built anew. The inconceivably ancient grit at the center of his spiritual core had offered a different option. He didn''t feel up to the challenge that he had accepted but it was too late. There was nothing for it but to accept and move forward or give up.


    "If only for the sheer spite of refusing to admit it was a mistake, let''s make it happen. Let''s renovate Castle Grimdark of the Edge Lord kingdom into something that would make unicorns puke rainbows of joy, damn it!" the young mage said shakily as he waved his temporarily small and delicate fist at the indifferent world.


    Moments later, the young mage was wracked with pain and throwing up watery gray clay riddled with woody fibers. A couple of potions and some spotty passes of magic added, Orison had expelled unpleasantness from every place possible. In its wake, a faintly agreeable scent took its place after a thorough cleaning. After finding and reattaching the marble form of the suit, the young mage started packing up.


    "If I had a small silver for every time I woke up naked, alone and with a hangover..." a jovial man''s voice said from nearby.


    Surprised at himself for having failed to notice a gawking stranger for so long, Orison turned to address the new stranger, "A word of advice. If you find yourself witness to a person''s weakest and most vulnerable moments, pretend you weren''t. That''s doubly true of a stranger''s. That goes three times for someone who may have possibly been a traumatized victim and four if there''s even the most vague of possibilities that you might share common features with an assailant."


    Slightly unsure of how to proceed, the plucky young man who wore colorful clothes but was otherwise unremarkable in a vaguely pleasant way, said, "And on that scale of one to four, where do I rank?"


    Orison gave a ghost of a smile and said, "Two. Lack of blood in my surroundings and lack of holes on you are the give away clues."


    The man''s eyes widened slightly as the young mage put things away in a manner that made them seem to have disappeared. "I didn''t realize I was in the presence of a young... a-and beautiful member of the Sisterhood. Please forgive my rudeness."


    "I''m a free... person. And as per the laws of this land, I only accept coin for magical arts related to healing. Now, if you''ll excuse me." the young mage said before walking away.


    It wasn''t so much that he minded the man''s presence or that he thought there was something malicious or annoying about him. The combination of being caught in the process of taking care of private matters and the less than subtle hints of interest beyond being friendly made Orison want to put distance between them.


    Predictably, the man wasn''t going to give up without reason. "Since we seem to be roving towards the same destination, we can stave off the loneliness of solitary travel. I''m passably skilled at the shepherd''s pipe I carry. An unfortunate accident took my instrument of choice from me but-"


    With the last bit of sympathy and kindness he could drudge up, Orison said, "If you can walk in silence and a minimum of greater than arm''s length distance from me, I won''t make it too obvious how little I don''t want your company. Deal?"


    "For the presence of your charming company I''d do many deeds, milady," the man said with a flourishing bow.


    Frowning, Orison replied, "Strike one."


    Several minutes went by before the man started pelting out some mild and agreeable melodies on his pipes. It actually seemed to help ease some inner tension and allowed for the young mage to consciously digest some of the illuminations of law his soul seemed to passively study without outward motivation. Seeing the improvement of mood and a sudden brilliant smile from Orison, the man felt his boldness return.


    "I''m Owen, milady. Surely an impoverished minstrel could at least earn a name for his musical labors?" he said, giving a cheeky smile.


    The young mage flipped him a silver and said, "Shut up and play, minstrel."


    "You''re too kind," Owen said blandly with hint of bitter sarcasm.


    A half hour of nature blending melody later and there was sudden silence as the moderately talented bard staggered sluggishly. Orison was tempted to keep walking but he noticed that the man was flushed with only the barest hint of perspiration.


    After a restrained sigh, the young mage handed over a water bottle and said, "Get to the shade. Lay down and loosen anything tied or tucked."


    Despite his obvious distress, Owen gave a cheeky smile and was about to say something Orison was all but guaranteed to be annoyed by.


    He cut the man off by adding, "Keep your head elevated above your heart so you don''t pass out. As long as you don''t take the opportunity to throw a lame, unwanted flirty line, I won''t take the opportunity to ditch you... literally."


    Wind stolen from his sails, the minstrel slumped into the grass by a fat but tall bush. And not a moment too soon, as he started trembling faintly. Mustering his strength to start draining the water bottle, it was obvious he didn''t have much left for anything else. The young mage helped him into an inclined position, untucking and unlacing with a grimace.


    "Unless you have a crust of bread to share as well, I won''t be up for much... performing but I''ll do my best," Owen said as he watched himself be semi undressed with bewildered awe.


    "Strike two," Orison replied as he tossed a ration bar to the minstrel.

 235 The Fool 40

    He thought, "Oh, no. I am NOT going to play guard for your nap and risk being locked out of town for the night. I mean, I don''t really know if its that kind of town but I''m not going to take chances."


    He stood up and turned to the road before hesitating. Turning back to the sleeping minstrel, he figured a job started was worth finishing and knelt down to scan Owen with spirit sight. What he saw wasn''t horrifying but it was disturbing. Twenty minutes later and slightly fatigued, Orison washed his hands of the lyrical burden both literally and metaphorically.


    Making his way back to the road, the sound of Owen struggling to put cleaned and mended shoes on clean and healed feet while trying to catch up made the young mage instinctually pick up the pace. Realizing how childish and ridiculous that was, he returned to his normal road eating pace. A compromise with himself that he''d earned the right to be cruel if need be helped.


    "I get it. You''re a lady who doesn''t take well to praise and flattery but at least allow a man to express his gratitude before fleeing," Owen said with a fawning expression.


    "You''re welcome. Show your appreciation by keeping nausea inducing attempts to hit on me in check because you only have one strike left and I''m not interested," the young mage said.


    The minstrel looked slightly confused for a moment but he wasn''t so clueless that he couldn''t tease out the meaning behind a turn of phrase he hadn''t heard before.


    "As a purely academic exercise, what kind of man does interest you?" Owen said, fraying Orison''s last nerve.


    He was tempted to say ''none'' or ''one with a v*gina''. But until he knew more about the prickly world around him, bold and direct statements that could be trouble drawing would have to wait.


    Instead, the young mage said, "Well, we could start off with one that never needed a venereal disease cured by me, much less two. The infestation of little hitchhikers could be played off as innocent misfortune but coupled with the other... I think not. Watch where you march your little soldier in the future. Some wars aren''t worth winning."


    After a few seconds of scandalized embarrassment, Owen recovered with comical outrage. "Rogue! Brigand! What mischief did you work upon my defenseless form while I slept? You bruise my pure and virtuous heart!"


    Once the town was in sight, it was neither imposing nor charming. Taking advantage of the local abundance of stone, generations had constructed a six to eight foot wall around a ''V'' shaped hill and its shallow valley. In the distance, a squat and modest castle fortress overlooked the place and there were signs that it was quite possibly a minor trader''s hub of some kind.


    The picture that Jarvis'' minimalist explanations painted in Orison''s mind was a bit more grim but it seemed like a rather orderly place built on the bones of a large military encampment. Its original purpose was nothing more than a protected agricultural area for the personal larder of some minor noble. That time had came and went but there were still some sizable grain fields to one side.


    "Is that a brewery over there, Owen?" the young mage asked.


    The minstrel nodded and said, "This was once known as the village of three inns. For some time up to the War of the Grand Companies, it was a fairly popular hub of commerce. For the last couple of decades it had fallen to the shoulders of a retired mercenary group once known as ''The Red'' to convert the old famine reserve fields to a fairly successful brewery.


    "With unrest stirring in the south and west, eastern trade has picked up momentum again. The Red Brick Inn was renovated and a few sell swords are starting to congregate there in look of employment from traders either wanting to fish in troubled waters or those looking to distance themselves from it. That''s my destination as well.


    "It''s a rough place. But for a minstrel in need of a fresh start, coppers can pile up fast in a tip hat there. The key to success is knowing when enough drink has flowed for generosity and when enough has flowed for quarrels.


    "Wish me luck. I found my previous patron of two years in such a place. Pity she tired of me but a woman of means is entitled to her caprice."


    Orison held back a chuckle and said with false severity, "Wow, I just asked if that was a brewery."


    Owen smiled cheekily and said, "Allow me to flex my most honed skill for you, at least. Well, not THE most honed skill but until you''re interested in the other..."


    The young mage muttered under his breath, "I don''t know if I can last a month if this is the sh*t I''m going to have to put up with the whole time."


    Pretending to ignore the minstrel, Orison paid the two copper entrance tax after declaring reason for visit and was surprised at how little trouble he was given until he turned to see that Owen wasn''t faring as well. It seemed that the troubles of his new form did come with a few perks after all. However, it almost seemed like a mistake to head to the Red Brick Inn after all that the young mage heard. Sadly, it was the only place where a decent ''map'' could be seen and the better of two options for negotiating group travel with a long roving trader.


    He might have escaped some deep problems by temporarily taking on the form he wore but Orison wasn''t an idiot. A young woman of any make and model traveling alone was looking for pain and tragedy in such a world. A group of rough men forced to be civil by employment and the reputation it required to get it seemed better than dodging people as much as possible and risking all the other unknown threats lurking on the open road by himself.


    With some reservations and a belly full of nerves, Orison made his way to the Red Brick Inn. The leering, predatory looks of men mixed with the hateful ones of the women beside and around them was almost enough to induce a panic attack as he made his way. By the time he''d reached the heavy and well worn oak door of the rust colored establishment, he had a newfound empathy for the plight of the ''fair''.


    "No wonder pretty girls tend to have extreme personalities. Can you say ''defense mechanisms''? I knew you could," Orison muttered as he gathered his resolve to enter.


    Not but seconds after entering and approaching the barkeeper, Orison could notice ''buddies'' pointing at him and trying to whip themselves up or taunt others to approach. Two such people needed no encouragement and were already making their way over.


    In as strong and confident a voice as he could manage, Orison said, "Jarvis said he would reserve a room for me. Is that done? Is anything needed from me?"


    The older, burly man behind the bar was subconsciously checking out the young mage''s assets but the look on his face was only mild curiosity. "Depends, young lady. What''s your name and profession?"


    "Orison. I''m a healer by trade," the young mage declared.


    The man chuckled a deep baritone. "Healer''s apprentice, you mean?"


    Orison frowned. "Take it as you like. I''m not particularly looking for a work reference. I AM looking to book on with any caravans heading due east. As a customer, mind. I''d prefer to stay at leisure for the moment but I''ll step up for emergencies."


    After warning off the two who seemed primed to interrupt their exchange with narrowed eyes, the burly older man said, "If you''ve a touch of the gift, be prepared to perform free demonstrations of your skills where you rove if you want to avoid trouble. It''s an inescapable truth that healers settle somewhere quickly to stave off the leeching of their wealth and supplies.


    "Are you in need of them? Supplies, that is. My wife is a passing wise woman of the mundane variety herself."


    Orison''s instant interest seemed to pass some kind of test for the man. Either that or he was a decent but opportunistic businessman.


    Leading the young mage through the back, much to the disappointment of the main room, the barkeep said, "I''ll let my wife do the talking as I''ve never understood the scales she uses to measure the cost of her simples. I''ll send a server to fetch you when Jarvis arrives or when your room is ready. It might take up to a week to find a suitable caravan but as long as your coin is good and don''t go out of your way to find problems, we''ll do what we can to keep the common ones from finding you."


    Orison let out a smile of relief and said, "I''d appreciate that."


    "Not nearly as much as I''d appreciate you staying out of the main room an hour before sunset til sunrise," the burly man said.


    The first evening was spent pouring over an extensive herb garden and swapping knowledge of basic remedies with the man''s wife while trying not to be fleeced. Erring on the side of generous caution, Orison ended up paying a little too much but figured the satisfied friendliness of the barkeeper''s wife was worth it.


    A night spent resting and meditating followed into a late morning spent ''proving'' skills as a few of the local militia came in to pressure some free service from the ''pretty healer''s apprentice''. The first of which set the bar for later ones under the approving eyes of the barkeep.


    "I have an issue for you to look at," the gate guardsman from the previous day said.


    Looking up from his breakfast, the young mage said, "Have a seat there and show me, then."


    With a leer, the man said, "Shouldn''t an examination be done in privacy, like in your room?"


    "Do you have a problem in need of privacy, such as a torn a**hole or sores on your private parts from intimate misdeeds? I only consider things that are DEEPLY shameful to YOU, as needing privacy. Is your problem deeply shameful?" the young mage explained with mock sympathy while everyone in the main room looked between them.


    Red faced, the guard shook his head emphatically and pulled his boot off. Once the healing was done and advice given, the guard wandered off with a cheated expression despite not giving so much as a copper. Another followed not too long after with similar results.


    When a third showed up, enameled deputy crest glinting on his chest and with obvious ill intent in his eyes, the last part of Orison''s speech made the man waver. Ultimately, the man insisted on privacy. He quickly found out that trying to force some free ''extra service'' on top of the free healing with no witnesses was the worst decision of his life.


    Once he was able, the man left screaming all kinds of threats while holding back tears. Orison set a saltwater filled jar with a necrotized glob of flesh inside it on the counter and had the barkeep''s wife verify that removing it had saved the man''s life. When the militia sheriff came with a few guards later, Orison was completely truthful from ugly beginning to horrifying end.


    He ended with, "I have no words for the utter shame of a representative of law attempting to use his authority to tarnish me, whether it was my virtue or professional reputation, but this was not caused by me and removing it saved his life. It may also serve to save a few maidens from his abuse.


    "The cause of it''s withering was a curse of some age. He still has a functional remaining one. If he wanted me to use good pain relief medicine while I removed it, he shouldn''t have tried to extort and abuse ME. He''s a mostly functioning, living and hopefully wiser man now. That''s more than most of my skill would have left him with."


    The sheriff sighed under all the judging eyes. He wanted to defend his man and was probably guilty of several misdeeds himself. The problem was that he relied on maintaining a certain amount of credibility or he''d end up like his predecessors, shanked in a ditch. The mayor who ran the town was no noble and mercenary coin had kept it from collapse for decades. And for the time being, that group seemed to be sheltering the young woman before him.


    The sheriff attempted to throw some doubt on Orison as a last effort spite move. "It''s your word versus his. There are no witnesses and you are an outsider who might gain pleasure from ruining men for all we know. What''s to say this curse was not one placed by yourself or that any man present is safe from becoming your victim?"


    Orison gave a saintly smile and said, "I tried to insist on being allowed a witness which he audibly denied me as he all but shoved me into my room. The world is filled with uncertainty but he was the one who created such a blind situation to take advantage, not me. In any event, that''s three free services.


    "Since the Barkeep''s wife is a main staple of healing in this community and I''m sheltering under their roof, she''ll set the charge at a half commission. I won''t turn away those in need but I won''t steal bread out of my host''s mouth... Have a blessed day, Sheriff."


    The man bristled and said, "In any event, a member of the local militia was injured. I''ll leave the Sisterhood to determine who was innocent and guilty after you come with us to file a statement."


    Orison laughed in a musical voice that grated in his own ears but had a strange affect on those around him. "If I have to fight my way free of this place and trade my freedom for justice from the Sisterhood over the pitiful imagined cunning of a local insect like you, expect no peace for the rest of your very short life."


    With a hand on his sword, the man said, "Is that a threat, witch?"


    A handful of sewing needles that had subtly been floating around Orison''s vicinity started glowing a dull orange and radiating heat, bringing them to the attention of the sheriff.


    "No, sir. It''s a f***ing promise." the young mage said with a saintly smile.


    The man twitched forward in preparation of a swift sword move to find his sight switching between two dull orange points hovering close enough to his eyes that they immediately began stinging and watering. Instinctively flinching backwards into one of his accompanying men only to find the orange points still fixed eerily close, he lost his nerve and left.


    Despite the innkeeper''s assurance that everything would be fine for the two days needed for a secured caravan''s departure, Orison made some additional preparations before retreating to the room that evening. As Owen belted out sappy diatribes below, he focused on absorbing his understandings into ability at glacier speed. For a moment, he wondered what had happened to Jarvis but didn''t feel as if they were close enough for extending concern into questions.


    Late that night, smelling of beer and carnal deeds, the minstrel sneaked into Orison''s room and re-locked the door behind him, sliding two pins back into his small pack. The young mage came out of trance and stared at the man that was getting undressed at breakneck speeds until he got snagged up by the knots in his trouser laces.


    "What the hell are you doing?" the young mage said darkly.


    Owen put a finger up to his lips and whispered, "I''ve been here all night, okay?"


    Getting up, Orison walked over to where the minstrel was making his way to the other side of the bed to climb in.


    "Let me help you with that," the young mage said, to Owen''s delighted surprise, as Orison reached for what looked like the knotted pants laces.


    The minstrel got an altogether different kind of surprise as he was hip tossed out the second story window onto a set of hay bails below, pelted with the rest of his clothes afterward. Moments later, the door to the room was nearly ripped off its hinges as an angry mountain of a man came barging in only to be stopped by a small but intense burning sensation prickling his throat.


    "Back out of my room and RESPECTFULLY explain this intrusion before I decide to murder you in self defense!" Orison spat, patience gone.

 236 The Fool 41

    "I threw him out when he tried to come in here and I don''t care enough to get involved. Good Night," Orison said.


    "If he''s not in here, you won''t mind me taking a look," the hatchet faced gorilla of a man said.


    Orison laughed in monotone. "Not only do I mind, I''ll kill you if you step past that door frame. One attempted r*pe a day is my tolerance limit."


    The man blinked owlishly at the young mage and said, "The bard tried to have his way with you?"


    Orison shook his head and said, "One of the Sheriff''s deputies did. He left my room half a man for the effort."


    The guy shivered and said, "You''re the ''Briar Rose Butcher'' they were talking about earlier!?"


    The man swallowed dryly and broke out into a cold sweat as he apologized for the door and promised to pay for it. He wished her a good sleep and backed slowly away before making a thumping retreat once he was out of sight.


    A few seconds later a wheezing Owen popped his head up at the window and said, "Nice bit of quick thinking to elbow the air out of me so I wouldn''t scream."


    The young mage closed and locked the shutter. After mending the door back into place, he locked that as well. Then, he finished with a magical version on both. Done with that, Orison returned to meditative trance until breakfast.


    In the early hours of the morning, a light knock on the door preceded, "Mam, there''s a man in dire need of more healing than the missus can provide. Can you take a look and see if there''s any hope?"


    Sighing, the young mage undid the magic and mundane locks, heading downstairs to a private backroom of the inn used for treatments. Despite slowly bleeding out with stab wounds, the young man refused to be undressed.


    After using a touch of spirit sight, the young mage ushered everyone else out of the room after getting a gasping agreement from the patient to waive a right to witness. "I don''t care whats underneath these leathers. Do you want to live?"


    On the verge of tears, the young man mouthed agreement barely above a whisper. Orison got to work. At first he had thought that it was a woman in disguise but the bindings around the chest and extra padding in certain places were designed to hide a much more dangerous secret. He was a full blooded elf.


    On the verge of unconsciousness, the young elven man weakly nodded, having too little blood to flush from a shame his face showed fairly clearly anyway.


    Orison peeked out to say to the innkeeper, "Sheee..er, he needs more attention and some observation. Can I get some help to move... him to my room?"


    The man and his wife had a sudden dawning epiphany over the young mercenary''s strange behavior despite facing death. With little fuss, they got the man squared away on a padded folding cot within Orison''s room. Several hours, a decent rest and a midday meal ordered to the room and the young man was recovered enough to put his mended leather armor back on as he observed the meditating young mage with respectful wariness.


    Pale lavender eyes looked everywhere but directly at Orison as a rich tenor voice that would make Owen jealous said, "I owe you a debt, human. I''ve heard tell of surprising kindness hiding within the hoards of corrupt and greedy but it is my first time experiencing such for anything other than your own."


    Orison snorted. "Light a candle, cast a shadow. Those who put the light behind them, see little of it but much of their own shadow. Those who put the light before them, see much of it but remain unaware of the shadow they cast. Carry light to the side and slightly above you, if what you desire is the greatest truth your light can illuminate."


    The elven man became lost in thought. The young mage doubted it was the cryptic words he''d just spoken.


    He thought, "In the process of healing him, all else was healed... including his measures to disguise himself. The power of mending seems to be slipping itself into my healing along with the darker, destructive touches present in the curative magics. Using law requires a great deal more focus to keep from unwanted things mixing in.


    "It''s fine for now but I need to start working on control instead of expansion. I''m going to have problems with cost and added effects that could cause more harm than good if I don''t. Who knows how bad elemental mages could have it, starting off. At least I''m working from a cluster of mostly beneficial stuff."


    Getting the elf''s attention, he said, "My healing''s undone some of your disguise work. Don''t mutilate yourself again. After I''ve recovered some of my reserve, I''ll work out a better temporary solution."


    The elven man said, "Too many know ways to counter illusion and see through artifice. To accomplish my goals, I need to pass under the awareness of such people."


    Orison said, "Can this goal keep until nightfall? How likely is the incident that almost killed you to track you back here?"


    The man said, "Night is my ally for the most part. Two of the few mercies found among mercenaries are their dislike and distrust of authority and curiosity outside of their own. That, and sharing information for free. My admission of being robbed is a shameful thing among us and few would dig deeper. Even if my assailant''s corpse is found, the chances of it being traced back here are small and evidence linking me to it weaker still."


    He stopped talking to measure Orison''s reaction to the disclosure of his killing of a human.


    The young mage said, "Alright, then I have a chance to make some things before you take a knife to yourself and start destroying my hard work?"


    The elven man smiled weakly and said "A gladly given one."


    Outside of a few minor interruptions, by the time evening came rolling around, Orison was finished with his fun experiments. A set of full body thermal underwear that held a temperature comfort enchantment was handed to the elf.


    He said, "Slight contour changes and feature distortions are added in with an emphasis on minimalism and comfort. The enchantment is a very minor one that''s probably not that uncommon or overly expensive. The best part is that it obscures more without raising suspicion than any disguise enchantment.


    "Assuming that it doesn''t take extensive damage, the enchantment will last a couple of months and makes its full body nature self explanatory to those who can see it magically. I assume you''re rushing your attempts at a rescue for the eastbound caravan? I''ll be on it myself. I don''t like borrowing trouble but I''ll help if I can. Good luck saving ''them'' from wherever ''they'' are."


    The man looked at Orison in alarm. "How do you-"


    "You lost a lot of blood and was delirious for awhile," the young mage said.


    Seeing the elven man''s eyes grow soft as he stepped towards the young mage, Orison said, "Don''t... You''re not the only one under a disguise. Let''s save ourselves both some embarrassment later."


    Startled, the young elven man nodded jerkily. To save the poor guy from further distress, the young mage stepped out of the room so he could change into his new undergarments. When Orison stepped back in a few minutes later, the elf was gone.


    After dinner, as he had the night before, Orison packed everything but a few sewing needles into the storage device and put it into his space. He was feeling a little more drowsy than usual but extensive healing took a lot out of him. Under the fuzzy headed feeling, it had slipped his mind that he had reverted to needing only four hours of trance unless he was wiped.


    When a strangely stifling feeling settled over him, his soul became aware that something was wrong and began fighting it. A cold sensation clamped around his wrists and ankles. Four clicks that sounded like they came from the other side of a canyon echoes through his ears.


    A weak and clumsy intent wandered into his mind, searching for his spiritual seat. When the intent found it, the invader attempted to follow along the bridge to his soul. A desolate gravity grabbed hold of it and cleanly dragged it and everything the intent was connected to down into stygian depths without so much as a ripple produced.


    After that, a cold sensation settled down on his head and his soul felt partially displaced. From a great distance, a pressure and slight pain followed by an agony of burning nerves screamed down a spine from the back of a neck he could only abjectly recognize as belonging to him. A soft peace and comfort descended once that was done.


    His soul, reaching for aid, found a distant beacon calling. Orison appeared inside a circle being controlled by a coal colored elf. It was only a sending of his spiritual self but it had substance provided by magic and astral stuff.


    "You responded! I have tried for days and had all but given up hope," the red eyed elf said.


    Feeling fuzzy and disoriented, the young mage said, "Are you the deep elf that Stefen mentioned?"


    The man smiled widely and agreed. "Before I become too exhausted, would you be my patron?"


    Orison shrugged and said, "I don''t know how much I can spare to make it worth your while but sure..."


    The deep elf said, "Oh, don''t forget your offering! It''s some of the amazing mead that Cray found in his magic shelter. It''s the reason why I have done this and I have meant to repay the saving grace of your light!"


    "Saving grace of my light!? Hey, I''m not looking to follow some dead end path of godhood or anything," the young mage said, a little off put by the fanatic light glinting in the red eyes of the deep elf.


    "Never mind that, your grace. Please, your offering, take it before you fade. I''m off to join them soon," the slightly crazed and drunken elf said.


    The young mage looked down to see the large, covered bowl. Seeing how tired the elf looked, Orison felt bad. Within his spiritual state, he could feel the goodwill of the man and took his ''offering'', giving a cheers before drinking it. The nearly electric charge of potency ran through him and down the connection to his physical anchor as he winked out of the circle.


    Coming to with a start, the young mage was back in a heavily suppressed and pained body. Dull metal bands bound his limbs and head. The overflowing essence threatened to burst out and then threatened to be swallowed into the fathomless depths ''within'' which would have left him dull and trapped once more. Before the seemingly bottomless cracks running through the foundation of his ruined soul tower could claim it, he pushed to ghost out of his restraints.


    The form he currently wore buckled and shuddered before partially phasing out. The strangely weighty essence began repairing the extensive damage to Orison''s lifespan and reset the form he wore. Before he could take advantage to switch back to his prime pattern, the ''real'' Orison, the dark ruin within the very center of his soul core claimed the potent ''Gany-mead'' essence.


    "Should I be thankful it didn''t completely swallow me up again? No matter. As soon as my instability is settled, I''m going to revert back from this ''damsel in distress'' poster child. I can''t stand holding this form anymore but I''m not going to screw myself up to do it," he muttered to himself.


    Realizing his nakedness, he activated the suit to see it slowly form like molasses around him as the small bit of the potent essence it managed to snag was rebuilding it. "Somebody tried to rip the damn thing clean out of me without knowing how it works. Fortunately, enough memory cells broke off in my spine that it could rebuild from. I sure do hope they enjoyed the decomposing trash they collected. I have to give that company credit for one thing. They sure know how to protect the secrets of an asset."


    The young mage took a look around. Aside from dull metal manacles dangling from the end of thick chains, there wasn''t much else within his cell. His wasn''t the only one, however. Most of them were empty but he saw a familiar face in one that wasn''t. After noticing that the locking mechanism of his cell was made out of the same magic insulated material as the manacles, he burned a third of his newly filled tank to ghost through the thick bars of his cell and through the ones in front of the cell holding Jarvis.


    After removing his cold iron restraints, energy started circulating through his body like a flood that had been held back. To be on the safe side, the young mage hit him with a heal targeting the dangerous blood clots forming in his extremities and fed him the other half of his second to last special ration bar. Whatever heritage the man possessed, it made amazingly efficient use of the body bolstering side of the bar''s multiple essences.


    "What new trickery is this?" Jarvis said as he looked at Orison with wary eyes.


    Orison laughed before the sound of his own voice stole his brief spurt of amusement. "The kind where you still think you''re in the sh*t but you''re actually already on the other side. Is there anyone here that absolutely MUST be saved for reasons more important than sentimentality?"


    Jarvis said. "All of them."


    The young mage sighed. "I was afraid you''d say that... Do you know how to pick locks? They''re all made of the most nonreactive material I''ve ever seen. It looks like metal but..."


    Jarvis nodded. "I can. The picks need to be-"


    Orison whipped out two upholstery needles and heated one up til he could easily bend the last quarter inch. He jammed the first one into the thread hole of the second and handed them over with what he thought was a stiletto or a letter opener. Dustin''s sister wasn''t there to ask.


    The older adventurer looked at the rigged needles dubiously and palmed them before he took the stiletto and and palm hammered it into the lock a few times with ear grating screeches. While Orison ''mended'' the wall stones of Jarvis'' cell out, the man repeated the process on two other cells. All of that came to a halt when there was a sound of a rusty hinged door opening in the distance. The young mage rushed over to Jarvis with a rapier and a gambeson.


    Seeing the man giving him a strange look while putting the quilted jacket on, barely able to fasten the buckles til it was mended to fit, Orison said, "Pink and green camouflage is, uh, manly. Beats taking glancing blows on bare skin... This isn''t a romance novel cover fight scene."


    Taking position by the inner door, Jarvis grunted. "At least they let me keep my pants. Where did these abominations come from????


    The young mage said, "Friend''s cousin. She was into archery and fencing. She probably just liked the way they looked or something."


    Barely above a whisper, the older adventurer said, "Don''t blame me if this toothpick breaks."


    Whoever was walking up to the inner door, stopped. Orison backed up and started slapping his thigh. "No... please don''t. Doooon''t. Please don''t-stop. Do-it-to-me. Stop. Noooo."


    The man behind the door gave a nasty chuckle as he was opening the door. "I didn''t know you got down here before me, sir. Sounds like you broke her. She''s starting to enj-"


    The man''s words were cut off as the practice sword Jarvis was holding managed to puncture up through his nostril. The older adventurer immediately started stripping the man and changing out gear. While he was doing that, the young mage grabbed the key ring and started unlocking everything he could.


    "Quick thinking... I hope I never have to hear that again," Jarvis said, shaking off cold chills.


    The young mage nodded absentmindedly. He had his hands full dealing with the quiet chaos of freeing, rousing and motley equipping five people. Three elven females, one elven male and one human male were organized as best as possible while Orison worked on opening a hole through the dungeon wall.


    "What are we going to do once we''re out?" Orison said.


    "Run," Jarvis replied grimly.


    With as much snark as he could muster, the young mage said, "Best... Plan... EVER!"


    One of the female elves, feeling bolder in the pink and green gambeson with a slightly bent practice sword in her hands said, "My uncle is nearby. He said he had a way for us to escape the town."


    With a hole finally opened, they slunk through the pre-dawn light.

 237 The Fool 42

    "Your disguise is failing," the older adventurer said, not catching the subconscious reluctance in his own voice at all.


    Whipping out a hand mirror from the storage device, Orison looked himself over for a split second to realize that he did look at lot like his ''real'' self except painted in a softer light. Certain prominent features became slightly less modest rather than disappearing as they should have as well. Curious as to what caused it, he turned some of his attention inward to follow essence signatures.


    He followed it right to the edges of where his spirit sight wouldn''t go, the chaotic center of his first layer of space. Responding to his desire, however, the Entanglement Key not only made its presence known, it showed how it got to Orison''s space. It was a bittersweet story.


    ***


    A couple of days prior, Cray was finally able to pull out the cabin. In the process of checking it over and inspecting the hidden cabinets, he found the keg of ''Gany-mead''. Since the deep elf had been passing friendly enough for Cray to feel comfortable around the guy, he cracked it open and shared a cup.


    It was a deceptively subtle and dangerous beverage. Even though they felt great, their sense of judgment was clouded by it. They slammed back a few while Heath was sneaking drinks from the keg while the other two were lost in personal story time.


    The deep elf was the most sensitive after Heath and not as controlled by instinctual impulse. Even so, they were all screwed by the time he figured out the trouble they were in. After some quick experimenting and some weird spiritual rhetoric that Orison didn''t quite buy, since they couldn''t save their present selves, they prepared for their ''future'' selves instead.


    Whether there was some truth to the deep elf''s beliefs or it was a happy coincidence, they could tie the essence up in a kind of future wish fulfillment checklist that only seemed to work part of the time. Among the successful were two very important ones as far as Orison was concerned. That was the ability to keep their memories and to be reborn with the young mage. Poor Heath couldn''t understand and trying to use the trainer on the kid earlier than was safe only made things worse.


    In a last ditch effort to help, Cray used the entanglement key to send Heath''s preserved soul and whatever excess of essence that would be wasted via ''helpful well wishes'', to Orison. Sure enough, the boy''s soul was resting within and protected by the key. The well wishes were spilling out into the young mage except disastrous or poorly thought out ones that were getting gobbled up by the desolate place at the center of his soul.


    The deep elf was a great deal more thoughtful and conscientious. Including the ability to give the young mage a ''safe'' amount of the brew in question, most went to his inner ruin as well but for different reasons. The man had put quite a bit of his excess into ''slaking'' whatever thirst for power the young mage might possess. And, if nothing else, his inner ruin was ''thirsty.


    The young mage wasn''t particularly tore up by the reveal, just somewhat depressed. Cray''s potential was rather limited in the form summoned by the cards. A rebirth meant that the archer would have room to grow beyond the limitations that he was resurrected with. Orison didn''t know the deep elf at all but wasn''t against the idea of having another friend as long as the fanaticism was knocked down a peg or two.


    That only left Heath to deal with. Plenty of the supercharged essence was locked up in the key with the boy''s soul which presented plenty of opportunities. The key itself had taken up some charge of its own but Orison could feel that it was merely a way of protecting itself from the caustic rejection of the world he was on. It would burn up quick, much like Morrel''s anointing on Amoril had.


    ***


    As morning''s first light breached over the horizon, the elven woman had found her uncle''s place. It was ransacked. As they looked around, the woman read a few hidden signs left around the place to find a trapdoor that had gone undetected. Underneath was a tunnel that smelled faintly of unwashed body and showed signs of having been lived in recently.


    A crossbow bolt came from further down the dark tunnel to land near Orison''s feet with a message attached. The young mage stopped Jarvis from chasing after the source as he read a question hastily scrawled on it. He took a second to collect himself.


    "I was the one who made your underwear. I told you that you weren''t the only one in disguise," he said.


    The young elven man came into view only to be verbally assaulted by the elf woman. "Where''s my uncle?"


    "To keep his cover in tact, he had to drive out with the caravan that left two hours ago. We tried to stage a rescue last night but they were under high alert. I''m sorry, mam. It seems that your generosity to me was not as harmless as I had thought it to be," the young elf man said apologetically.


    Orison said, "Not the time to console each other... Caravans travel slow. We can still catch up if you have a way for us to get out of the town."


    That galvanized the man into action. Several things had been prepared in advance. Thankfully, that included waterproofed wader pants because most of their initial journey was through sewer. Once they reached the other side, it was important decision time.


    After a round of discussion, both Orison and Jarvis decided to travel a different route. A heated debate broke out over the human man but ultimately, the woman who was pregnant with his child via ''humane'' insemination won the argument. Through the conversation, the young mage and Jarvis learned about the nature of the place where they were imprisoned.


    Concerned about the smaller and smaller number of people born with the gift for magic, a few members of the Sisterhood devised a secret breeding program. Young male sorcerers who wouldn''t submit or made too many mistakes and elves made the bulk. There were some volunteer apprentices among the Sisterhood as well but they were obviously not going to be treated the same way. Nor was there a reason to hide them.


    Attempting to drum up some small amount of humor among numerous small tragedies, the young elven man approached and said, "I approve of the new look."


    Jarvis muttered. "Of course you do."


    Both choosing to ignore him, Orison said, "This is not yet my final form! All decent final bosses have three."


    Setting his curious puzzlement to the side, the elf said, "Whatever your true self may appear, you are my friend. Should you find yourself on the Golden Planes. Name yourself friend of the woad to whoever you may meet there. Share the story of this day and display your healing talents. You will find welcome."


    Seeing a sentimental glaze coming over the hotblooded youths eyes again, Orison said, "I''ll be sure to do that but time is wasting. Good luck."


    Torn between boldness and uncertainty, the later won and the young man left with a sourness in his heart. By some unspoken agreement, Jarvis lead them off the road while silently approving Orison tagging along.


    Once they''d been traveling for a couple of hours, the young mage finished a thorough self inspection and said, "We have some things to discuss."


    Mildly annoyed, the older adventurer stopped to look at the young mage with an impatient expression.


    "Due to some poor framing of thought by a friend, I have some years to ''share''. Care to live a little longer? I''d save them for someone else but they''re starting to disappear pretty fast.


    Annoyance was exchanged for bewilderment. "Will I ''just'' live longer? I don''t ''care'' for the thought of being some undying bag of bones."


    Orison laughed, no less annoyed by the sound of his voice in current as he had the previous form but it seemed to wipe some of the strain off Jarvis'' face. "It adds on relatively evenly but favors the younger side over the older. From what I can tell, up to the limit of life allowed by the laws of existence, you kind of hover around your prime til the majority burns off and then age at an accelerated rate later.


    "I''d have to examine you to tell you how much life potential you have or how much you can improve by, since everyone is different. But honestly, I don''t think it''s THAT big of an amount. The biggest plus is removing some of those hidden injuries you have. Fast healing without regeneration has downsides."


    Jarvis said, "What do you need to do?"


    "Hand to the heart point on your chest so that the life essence will spread evenly throughout your body," Orison said.


    With a long suffering look, the older adventurer unbuckled the leather jerkin and lifted his shirt. "I''m not unaware of what happens to my own body. Just so you know."


    Reaching out to make contact with the heavily scarred chest, the young mage said blandly, "No need for all the flowery gratitude. You''re welcome."


    The encapsulated life essence his ruin had been snacking on with sluggish consistency poured into the man as a short lived torrent that quickly softened to a stream and then a trickle before stopping. During that time, Orison passively observed the flow of it. Once again, he was amazed at the incredible efficiency that Jarvis'' body absorbed and distributed life essence. There was one facet of that, the young mage was not so happy to see.


    With a slow released sigh of growing depression, Orison said, "Damn, I was afraid of that."


    Quickly backing away, the older adventurer tensely said, ???What is it?"


    "I need time to think some important decisions over. Could you tell me what your plans are in the meantime. I get that I''m a burden you''re going to find some place or person to shove me at but at least tell me the gist," the young mage said.


    The older adventurer said, "I''m going to the country estate of a friend. She''ll get you to the border of the Sisterhood controlled area... My insides are itching like crazy."


    Orison said, "That''s a temporary regeneration effect that happens when you get a big shot of life essence at once. You''ll probably shed a layer of skin too... It won''t feel that comfortable but I can hit you with a cleaning version of Degree Shift in an hour or so and you''ll be able to skip the majority of the nasty bits."


    Less than half an hour later, Jarvis went rushing for the bushes when a loud gurgle came from his guts. "I thought you said an hour."


    A little poleaxed, the young mage said, "Your body is insanely efficient."


    From the bushes, Jarvis said, "It has to be."


    A few minutes later, the adventurer stripped without a moment''s hesitation to get the greasy, peeling dead skin off but looked like he was going to attack the young mage when Degree Shift was activated.


    With an accusing look, Jarvis said, "Degree Shift, huh? Was ''Freezing Fire and Burning Ice'' already taken?"


    Orison smiled in a way that must have been contagious since Jarvis returned it as he said, "Actually, I think they are. Don''t worry. In the near future, I''ll be able to switch to a more neutral temperature version after I get a grip on two more minor concepts."


    Jarvis smirked. "Plan on cleaning me often?"


    "Not if you make it weird. My old companions were lazy... I have to admit. A quick slap of ''Presto'' is a lot more convenient than all the effort it usually takes to get clean on the go. And being on the go can get messy with little warning."


    The adventurer checked himself out as he got dressed and said, "Cheers to that... Feel great, by the way. Sorry and thanks."


    The young mage chuckled. "If we can get you a trim and a shave, you''d be ready to find your future..."


    Jarvis gave a more bitter smile prompted by an old but familiar pain. The rest of the day passed mostly in silence.


    After their camping area was set, Orison broke it, "I wouldn''t ask if it wasn''t important. If you could have a kid, would you want one?"


    The young mage could tell that Jarvis bit back a knee jerk reaction to get nasty as the man said, "I was eleven when I was given the choice to become a Gloaming Warden. I didn''t know what I was giving up to get what I have. It was all I knew.


    "I lost the title when the order fell but I''m still doing the only thing I''m good at, hunting monsters. What''s the point in thinking about something I can''t have? Guess I should be grateful I can still have the fun without the responsibility. As far as magically created mules go, I have it better off than most."


    Orison stared into the fire with a distant look and said, "I''m not asking as a hypothetical. If you don''t feel like answering, pretend I didn''t ask. I sure as hell didn''t want to."


    Jarvis froze. "I-that''s impossible... Yes, I would."


    The young mage continued staring into the flame. "You have three weeks to find a surrogate to carry it and the soul it gets will have memories of a past life after seven. If it takes longer than that, the stasis will wear off and it will get scrapped along with another unwanted hitchhiker. I''m certain the person who''s responsible for that wouldn''t have had the courage if he knew how much his employer spent in making the impossible anything but. Either way, he''s a dead man."


    Jarvis took his own turn staring into the flames and finally said, "Teshara gave me a dream sending saying she''d be late. Then, after I was drugged and brought there, she sent another saying she couldn''t get me out right away because someone was blocking her from coming. I had an idea of what I was in for but nothing I couldn''t shake off afterwards. I even knew I was going to be set free eventually.


    "Parts are fuzzy but I know I didn''t... Did this other man? You don''t have to-"


    Staring darkly into the fire, images of hellish landscapes reflecting from his eyes, Orison said, "No. But if I had been there for much longer, probably. He had an apprentice sorceress try to place a geas in my mind so that I''d WANT him to before I''d even finished intake or whatever they call it. She''s a soulless vegetable only good for their breeding program now.


    "Their ''humane'' treatment makes it very hard to have children naturally afterwards. I feel for those girls. One of them was carrying that soon to be dead man''s child as well. And it wasn''t by their artificial method. Poor girl got the worst of both."


    The adventurer said, "Sorcery carries its price in exchange for power and a longer life, much like my own advantages come with their sacrifice. It''s obvious why the gift is dying out. It''s a greed in them to have the power, knowing the cost, but still wanting what that cost takes from them."


    Orison shook his head. "There''s little sin in feeling and thinking. It''s the actions that carry debt. If they don''t wise up, their fate isn''t going to be any prettier than the old order they tore down... For me, it''s a simpler matter. Someone wronged me. I''m going to wrong the hell out of him right back.


    "His boss, the person behind it, the seed of their doom''s already planted. I don''t want to rob others of their chance for some vindication. They''re owed a lot more than I am."


    He could tell Jarvis had a lot more to ask but personal habit and consideration kept the man silent. The young mage took the favor and opportunity to call it a night early and work on meditation. The next few days passed in much the same manner but with the adventurer being uncomfortably solicitous. It was somewhat expected and Jarvis didn''t take it past tolerable levels. So, Orison bit his tongue and split his focus on moving without tripping and filling in comprehension holes.


    One morning, nearly a week in, Jarvis came out of his tent to see a horse with legs that terminated in shadowy wisps. Apparently it matched the description of some kind of supernatural threat because Orison had to stop him from attacking it.


    "We''re going to be riding this?" Jarvis looked at the phantom horse dubiously.


    Orison sharply exhaled in humored disbelief, "That was kind of the point of the last few days'' hard work."


    "The inside of your head must be a strange and wondrous place. I thought you were moping... Isn''t riding bad-" the adventurer said.


    Orison cut him off. "Short of surgery and traumatic stab wounds, there''s nothing to worry about on that front. On the other hand, you''ve only got two weeks left."

 238 The Fool 43

    For Orison, it had been little more stressful than a leisurely week outing but in truth, there had been quite a few dangers. Jarvis was just so experienced and good at what he did that the young mage hadn''t even noticed until evidence started piling up. The adventurer''s pack started bulging, showing signs of a new fur or leather roll poking out. An extra bag was filling with expertly preserved and scentless collections of ''tags'' such as ears, fangs and other bounty turn-ins.


    That evening at the fire, Orison asked, "When are you doing this? Pleasant days spent walking and riding, peaceful nights. When are you collecting this stuff?"


    Jarvis shrugged. "I''m a light sleeper and I do rounds."


    "So am I but I''ve never heard more than you shuffling around or an occasional rustle," the young mage said.


    "My rounds are wide... Didn''t see any need to bother you," the adventurer said, indulging in a little pride with a faint smile of self appreciation.


    Not knowing what to say to that, Orison added a request for herb collecting, explaining the identified ones he could use. Since they had started edging around an older part of the woods, the young mage had caught signs of a few useful ones but didn''t want to slow them down. If the adventurer was doing some nocturnal slaying, there wasn''t any burden to take a few extra glances for them.


    Frowning, the man opened his pack and pulled out some bundles, hesitantly handing them over. The young mage looked at them numbly as he grabbed them. Things started clicking for him.


    "You know alchemy and medicine making?" Orison asked.


    The man nodded and showed off some of the ones he had mixed. They were rough and there were a few that the young mage didn''t recognize but spirit sight and personal knowledge labeled them effective. Instead of turning in early, he initiated an exchange of recipes and some ingredients. Jarvis'' knowledge was specialized and a little too focused on being field practical but it was deep. By the time Orison called it, they had both benefited tremendously from the exchange.


    The next morning, Jarvis was still in the process of skinning his fifth dire wolf, looking tired. "I''ll finish this up. Get some rest. You might think you''re alright but you''re starting to look like sh*t."


    Though he''d never say it out loud, Orison admitted that the man was impressive. There wasn''t a part of Jarvis that hadn''t been honed to the lethal limit of its potential. It was no wonder that he was still capable of doing risky business at an age twice the profession''s prime. And at the moment, the man was still on the plus side of that but not by a whole lot.


    A pair of amber eyes fixed on the young mage. Getting caught in the act of admiring, even if it was on a purely aesthetic level, Orison was deeply embarrassed. Turning away, he busied himself with fixing the leathers that one of the wolves had gotten a decent swipe on. A brief internal rage flared up at the borderline arrogant chuckle he heard behind him but it died just as quickly.


    Orison did as he said he would. There was a stack of neatly prepared furs waiting for Jarvis when the man stirred back to wakefulness in the late morning hours. That wasn''t all.


    Handing the adventurer a bottle and three medicinal pellets, the young mage said, "Anything worth doing is worth doing with everything I''ve got. I''d normally suggest spacing those out over three or four days but you process things so quickly, it would be better for you to take them all at once. It''s the last of what I''ve got to extend life or restore wholeness that would do anything for you.


    "I kind of know but don''t completely understand why you''ve been wearing yourself so thin just to make things easy for me but... there you go. Don''t make a thing out of it. I''m already self conscious enough."


    Jarvis looked at the medicine, faintly surprised. "Is this going to give me the runs or something?"


    Orison said, "I''d have to examine you to see how many toxins are still left in you. There''s-"


    The adventurer took the young mage''s hand and put it at his heart point.


    Inwardly, he thought, "Alright! No need to be so pushy about it."


    Focusing on spirit sight, Orison dove in slowly. There was some buildup of toxins deeply buried into the marrow of the man''s bones. Vestiges of unwholesome medicines lingered in hidden recesses. There was a strangeness to the man''s soul as well but Orison didn''t want to rouse suspicion by getting anymore curious.


    Withdrawing intent, as he tried to take his hand back, the young mage said, "Yeah. And it''s going to be the gross kind that''s going to come out everywhere but it won''t take long. Uh, you can let go now?"


    Jarvis released Orison''s hand and took the medicine.


    After the unpleasantness was over and the young mage had cleaned him back up, the adventurer said, "It''s like the last sixty or seventy years never happened."


    "Freakishly efficient life essence usage. The people responsible for the method must have been incredibly smart and just as immoral. I can''t imagine what they did to figure that out," Orison mused.


    Jarvis sighed. "No one alive remembers how it''s done. The last who knew, died in an explosion nearly forty years ago. The few of us puttering around could probably figure it out if we got together and worked on it but..."


    The young mage stared out to the horizon. "The end of an era. A few more generations and I don''t think magic''s going to exist much outside of the kind that never really disappears. Everything runs in cycles though."


    Later that afternoon, they were back on roads and out of the wilds. A small group of people approaching from the opposite direction made both of them tense up and be on guard. The sudden trill of wariness turned out to be for nothing but the reappearing space between them illustrated that they had become far too comfortable with each other. More specifically, Orison realized that he had taken his form changing ability too lightly.


    The longer he lingered in a form, he realized, the more he''d grow to thrive in it. Originally, he hadn''t minded a little experimentation with it for the sake of understanding things a bit better but everything down to chemistry worked as it was designed to. Jarvis was a pragmatic person with years of emotional pain induced avoidance issues. That meant Orison got to fill in the blanks on the ''nature'' part of the form. The same couldn''t be said about Cray.


    Cray was a simple and straightforward kind of person for the most part. Loyalty and sentimentality were a definite part of that and it held that he''d want the same thing in return. The archer''s drunken whimsy had real effects on Orison and the young mage had learned just how dangerous it was to have been unaware.


    He only had ''nurture'' to fight nature and a soul''s relatively passive influence. The young mage was ready to finish what he thought was good and right before returning to the form he wanted and never mess with it again if he could help it. The brief time he''d spent as a woman in the dark gray world he found himself in had been a moderately traumatizing experience.


    The seasoned adventurer tried to subtly pull Orison back into his chest, where the young mage had been resting earlier while in trance. The effort was resisted. He was surprised when the young mage dismounted instead.


    "I''m assuming that you weren''t pressed on the time limit I gave you because you know you''ll have a taker in that chateau I see in the distance there?" Orison said.


    Jarvis got off the horse and looked at the young mage with a complicated gaze and said, "Yes. Teshara would if she could. Could she? If not-"


    The young mage replied, "Yes. With what I''m about to do, as long as there''s a full set of lady parts and they''re attached to someone that''s healthy enough to provide what a growing little guy needs, you''re gold."


    A phantom key surrounded in honey colored essence appeared before a small ball of dense, honey colored light with a blue dot in the center flew into Jarvis'' sacral chakra. "Aim steady and shoot for the bull''s eye. The rest will take care of itself. You''ve got three days, now that I was inspired to do this a different way. Don''t misfire in the mean time or you''ll blow it. Pun kind of intended."


    As Jarvis tried to work out what to say amid jumbled thoughts and emotions, Orison held a dim yellow light in his hand while the honey sheath around the key rapidly boiled away. A twist of the key later, a man who was a stranger to them both looked towards them in confusion for a split second before trying to cast a spell. He went up like a gas soaked bonfire as the dim yellow light in Orison''s hand was roasted by a potent casting of Ignite. The young mage quickly put the key away with a thin layer of honey colored light flickering on it weakly.


    "Would choosing to stay with me be so terrible a thing?" Jarvis said with laser focus, as if people spontaneously combusted around him all the time.


    The young mage smiled weakly. "No. All I''d have to give up is my personal identity and struggle to reconcile what I remember wanting with what my current form does. In a few weeks, I probably would consider myself the luckiest ''girl'' on this planet as long as you treated me right.


    "But you know what? It wouldn''t be what I chose. It would be what someone else chose for me. Despite that, setting aside my path of mistakes and pain to bet on you would probably end up being the absolute opposite of terrible for however long it lasted. The thing is, I''d rather walk the path of misery I made than a path of paradise that was paved for me. That''s the kind of nonsensical sh*t I am."


    The adventurer smiled and said, "I think I understand that too well. Besides, it''s not like I could make any promises anyway. You were slowly coming around and I thought, why not?... I wouldn''t have played with you. I would have taken it serious.


    "If it isn''t prying too much, how did you do all this anyway? Whatever you can share is fine. It''s an unsettling thought that a sorcerer could yank up someone and set them on fire or have so much power over the foundations of life itself."


    Orison looked at the pile of ashes and said, "What I did to this trash was a waste of precious resources but I wouldn''t have been able to move forward with peace of mind otherwise. I took what he tried to do to me and used it as a link to him. Having him suffer the same fate. Don''t worry too much about the morality of it. What I used was a soulless collection of cells. There''s more life in a sneeze.


    "What you have is different. It''s alive and has a soul waiting to experience that life. A powerful essence surrounds and safeguards that life to give it every chance of properly existing outside of giving it a form itself."


    Orison began walking away as Jarvis said, "How much will the mother be... the mother?"


    Not turning around, the young mage said, "Enough to make it work. Outside of that, I don''t know. In every way that matters is how I would explain it."


    Slightly speaking louder, Jarvis said, "You know, you don''t have to be the mother of my child or even my woman to receive my aid. Before all of this, you sought to be my friend first. I can say that you''ve done enough that I can claim you as one without reservation. We could complete the last few miles of this journey and get you properly settled in with someone headed to where you wished to go next."


    Orison sighed and turned around. "I saw the map in the Red Brick Inn. We''re ahead of the caravan by half a day. I''m going to find a nice safe place to become myself as you remember first seeing me and travel with them. Besides, after all that''s happened... It might sound petty. But the last thing I need, is to keep hanging around a man who''s going to make me feel like less of one even after I AM one."


    Jarvis stood silently for a moment before laughing heartily. "I''ll take that as the compliment it is, whether you intended it as one or not... Very well. Safe travels Orison and thank you... for everything."


    While they spoke, a stiff breeze wafted around them. Orison''s spirit sight picked up a spirit essence signature from the greatly reduced pile of ashes from the roasted male sorcerer''s remains. Walking back, he sifted through them while Jarvis had paused to watch with curiosity. Sifting through, the young mage picked out a condensed eternium fragment the size of a pea. No sooner had Orison''s aura envelope encased it, as with any object held for more than a second or so, it disappeared.


    "When sorcerers and certain monsters perish, they leave behind those things. Without the proper equipment, it''s impossible to store and keep them. They break apart fairly quickly after forming. I''ve heard tell that they carry-" Jarvis explained but the young mage didn''t hear it all.


    His spiritual seat was bombarded with a jumble of memories. The vast majority was shunted out but a fraction of knowledge remained. The rest was taken down into the depth of the first layer of his space.


    The young mage stood up and looked at the world around him as if it had become a terrifying and alien place. "Jarvis, I need to confirm something. I know I''m asking for a lot of trust but I need to look at your soul... It''s important."


    The man froze up. Enough time passed for it to become awkward and Orison was about to tell him to forget it. There would be other opportunities to fact check the horrifying idea that had taken root in the young mage''s mind.


    With a faint smile to cover his reticence, Jarvis said, "Well, you''ve seen everything else. Is it the same method that you used to examine me?"


    Orison replied, "Yes but it''ll be stronger and you could technically hurt me. I''m not going to risk hurting you by putting up defenses."


    They moved off the road and found a relatively hidden spot. The young mage understood the risks but the matter was so dire that he reasoned it was worth it. The faster the truth was uncovered, the quicker Orison could do something about it.


    After a quick breakdown, Jarvis found himself sitting down and leaning back into the young mage''s arms. "You''re not going to turn back into a man while you''re doing this are you? There were a lot of things I could overlook when I thought you''d given yourself up to what you had become but... I''ve managed to nearly survive a century without finding myself in a... compromising position. Doppelgangers don''t count."


    Orison said. "No. Don''t follow me down in, by the way. Keep your senses keen on our surroundings... please. I''m worried about unpleasant surprises."


    Uncomfortably aware of the strong back pressed against soft chest, Orison thought, "I''ve made some big mistakes along the way but taking the pattern of a physical form lightly was huge. I assumed that I''d be me no matter what I ''wore'' but that was soooo wrong. I''m NEVER voluntarily taking the form of a woman again!"


    Clearing thoughts from distraction, the young mage delved past Jervis'' aura as gently as he could and drove intent to the spiritual seat. It didn''t take long for Orison to figure out that the outer strength of the adventurer''s soul had actually been supplied by the young mage. The booze and medicine had bolstered what was meant to fade, not strengthen.


    Leveraging against that, Orison delved deeper with nearly no resistance to find that the center of Jarvis'' soul was hollow and slowly siphoning off spirit essence and strength of existence elsewhere. It was a bit dangerous but the young mage followed the siphon line and found himself having to quickly reduce what he was seeing because it was overwhelming. Countless lines ran from one branching sequence of potential world events to another.


    He didn''t spend too much time exploring. After discovering that weakening alternate branch points ended in ''cold'', both literally and metaphysically, he''d seen everything he needed to. Making his way back up, he stopped, sensing spiritual ties to himself.


    The world was already subtly drawing Orison into the branching of events as well. It was weak but there was a force attempting to siphon away essence to brighter lines. By coincidence, the world was successful in fully establishing one but it went off to a connected plane of existence sandwiched between two separate realities in a tug of war to claim it.


    Briefly peering through, he found that it was his original body that Stefen had been shoved in but restored to ''real Orison''. Concerned, the young mage checked to find that Stefen was ''feeling'' alright but that only added to the mystery. This other body was being preserved as if waiting for Orison to need it and the world will was accidentally helping to establish a strong connection.

 239 The Fool 44

    The young mage was suddenly slammed back into his body with light spiritual damage to his intent. Jarvis had jumped up from their hiding place to deal with an attack. Several soldiers and a few magic types had latched onto their whereabouts and were obviously not friendly.


    Trying to push away the dizziness, Orison rallied himself to join in but it was too overwhelmingly against them. The soldiers were falling one by one but magic aid had the adventurer cornered and sustaining deep wounds one after another while a net of magical force had the young mage pinned down, unable to utilize his burning needle trick. They would have already been dead if the intentions weren''t obviously to capture them.


    There was no logical reason for this to be happening as it was, so suddenly. That meant the will of this world had sensed Orison poking around in its depth and retaliated through its swarm of fading puppets on this dead end branch. The young mage couldn''t remember being so enraged and still coldly and logically present as he was in that moment.


    While the ''sheriff'' from the other town and a sharp and severe looking woman gave complementary villain speeches, Orison drew on the power of his key. Hoping that they were far out enough away from the world will''s main focus and enough on the ledge of a fragile spike of dead end events, he slammed his Key''s ability into the structure of the branch. Metaphorical spiderweb cracks ran through the branch as the last of the key''s protection sizzled away.


    A small and young conduit pitted itself in a losing battle with the extreme fingernail''s tip of the the world will''s might. Fractures continued to run across the ''event branch'' as the key let out a whine of protest against its imminent destruction. A desolate gravity of long dead emotions and disintegrated memories stirred inside his soul as Orison poured his own resources into keeping the key from vaporizing. A synchronicity occurred.


    The desperate and nearly fatalistic rage of the young mage radiated like a star on collusion with the event horizon of a black hole. It found purchase into the burnt out and dusty echoes of the dim and abysmal ruin within. The struggle changed instantly.


    Shoring it''s losses, the world will completely abandoned the branch. Far from fighting with the key, it lent its own efforts in severing as if it had sensed something upon that branch capable of threatening it. Pulling with abandon, it tried to claim what it could before the branch was lost to it.


    Reaching out with the whining key, he latched onto the tether of his ''other'' body and pulled the sinking boat of fractured existence he was on towards it. As encroaching darkness swallowed the outer edges of their life raft splinter, those things and people marked by the young mage were drawn towards the ''center'' where Orison lay shaking off the residual magic left by a person who no longer existed, at least not there.


    Wanting some positive to come out of the horrid tragedy orchestrated by the world will and his epic temper tantrum, Orison latched onto a specific and fairly intact soul core, dragging it into his spiritual seat. Reaching out to the soul, he struck a bargain. With the last settling ebbs of the long dead behemoth''s power coming from within, the young mage drew them into another plane with a jarring but less regretful result.


    ***


    "Worry not. It brings no good and only harm to those of us who remain if we give in to the terrors of the unknown. Set aside old grudges and cleave to each other as siblings for that is what we are. Brothers and sisters, we are refugees of a dying land abandoned by the world. To survive the challenges that come, we must work together or even we may perish."


    Teshara ended her speech and returned to the task of healing Jarvis. She had always had a talent for healing but with the spiritual mentor she now possessed, her skills were showing improvements that had stagnated for years. Looking fondly at the man, she finished up and allowed him to put his shirt and jerkin back on.


    It took nearly a day to save those who could be saved and to give final rest to those who couldn''t. She knew that the one who had restored her to life was content with the results. Teshara could only internally mourn all the side casualties of a skirmish between the ambivalent world and a powerful soul pushed beyond its ability to silently endure.


    Once everyone had been educated on what had happened up to their ability to comprehend, the survivors still split up into groups. The ample resources laying around were divvied up according to whim, carrying limits and greed of individuals before malcontents and tight knit groups wandered their own directions. In the end, those who would be traveling with Jarvis and Teshara were a rather small potion of the total.


    Using line of sight method, Teshara teleported them as far away from the rest as possible. Whatever shaky alliance of mutual fear had been established, it wouldn''t last long. It would only be a matter of time before someone got a dumb idea in their head. They had made that abundantly clear when even the grim reality of their situation could barely do more than keep them from fighting immediately.


    "I''m surprised you had the nerve to join us, Owen," Jarvis said while all but growling at the ''now'' youthful minstrel.


    Owen chuckled nervously and said, "It was years ago, one poorly worded song."


    "I was pelted with copper coins from three separate villages, like a beggar too pitiful to hate," the adventurer said.


    "In my defense, that''s better than being ran out with rocks and while being cursed at. Believe me. I know," Owen added.


    Jarvis grimaced and said, "I don''t doubt it. But unlike you, I can and have stabbed a person throwing rocks at me."


    A young elven woman in flexible but full cover leathers said, "Every moment we bicker is one more moment our savior must reside as a homeless urchin within her very own body which she so selflessly gave away for another''s happiness. I would very much like to see her to this ''waiting vessel'' before some other nameless misfortune visits her or the rest of us."


    Teshara cleared her throat. "Him. Orison is a ''him''."


    The elven woman froze up for a moment, then said, "Be that as it may, we owe... him too great a debt of gratitude to delay anymore than what is necessary."


    Teshara smiled and said, "I have no argument for your words but I require a night''s rest to replenish myself and discuss matters of importance with Jarvis. Orison appreciates your words but understands my need."


    "Our need," Jarvis added, giving Teshara a smoldering look that made the sorceress blush.


    Rolling her eyes but giving the sorceress a secret smirk of understanding, she said, "I''ll scout."


    Owen said, "If you''d like some company-"


    "You don''t know how to keep your mouth shut," she fired back before sauntering off.


    Both Jarvis and an axe wielding gorilla of a man chuckled.


    With one nervous chuckle of his own, Owen said, "Well, the four of us can swap stories or I could sing one of the old ballads until we''re ready to turn in."


    The minstrel sighed sadly as the back area of the grotto where they were camping for the night was quickly being annexed off with a weave of force that was getting privacy wards added even as he spoke. The last sight of the sorceress before she turned in with Jarvis was of Owen being guided by the large, ''friendly'' hand of the axe wielding mercenary to the minstrel''s own tent, insuring everyone''s peace.


    A couple of hours of ''conversation'' later, Teshara was resting languidly in Jarvis'' arms. Suddenly, she started crying. When the adventurer finally got her soothed again, he asked her what that was about.


    "You dense blockhead. I''ve carried a torch for you nearly half a lifetime but you were always running off on some new life threatening quest and dragging some flashy thing or another along for the ride. I tried to tell myself that your friendship was enough and that I didn''t have the right to want more. Power I had but I was never that courageous."


    He looked at her with complicated eyes and said, "I knew but I... You were an important person to me. I thought that if I ever laid hands on you then I''d only ruin what we had. You were one of the last true friends, one of the only people I could let the walls down and talk to...


    "When the blood started pumping, I made poor choices sometimes. I didn''t want that to take you from my life for good... The short of it is, I didn''t trust myself to be true to you."


    She said, "I want to be mad at you for torturing me with your ''friendship'' for so many years... That... that was very cruel of you. Still, getting the older... well, wiser you may have been for the best. It certainly came with some unexpected... pleasant surprises. I don''t suppose you have any ''other'' surprises left you might want to show me?"


    The expectant look she gave him went blank for a moment before she started laughing.


    Jarvis looked at her questioningly and she said, "It''s nothing."


    Moments later, the sorceress and adventurer engaged in deeper conversation once more.


    She thought to the silent and sullen partner in the back of her mind, "Instead of wallowing in self pity, how about learning a thing or two so that you can have a woman willing to pine over you for a lifetime. Although, I think you shouldn''t lose that soft heart of yours. Hard men may be some women''s dream but they''re a nightmare too."


    When she felt a timid and embarrassed presence amid the throws of her enjoyable ''conversation'', Teshara secretly smiled and threw herself into giving the peeper a good show. Being of a relatively timid bent herself, she was surprised at the excitement a shy voyeur added to the occasion.


    The next day, under the glow of her own contentment, Teshara observed her companions after two more line of sight teleports. Owen looked miserable. The man would all but jump out of his skin at the slightest rustle in the grass, rushing to the protective shade of the chuckling mountain of a mercenary. He seemed to wither a little more with every rebuff of the elven girl and flinch inducing consoling pat of his ''big friend''.


    The mercenary said, "I''ve heard tell that despite being obsessed with perfection that many elves have been known to have dalliances with humans and sub-races that many of their own kind find ''less than attractive''.


    The neutral expression of the girl soured as she said, "We have an appreciation for BEAUTY, not perfection. Perfection is a lie. And as for beauty, it resides in more places than the eye alone can ''see''... Sub-races... how arrogant. I would say ignorant but that inspires the idea that learning might be-"


    Seeing the situation was about to head down hill quickly, Teshara cut her off to say, "There is much to be said for inner beauty. It''s the sort that can endure when time fades so many others. It''s so easy to show the uglier parts of ourselves but it is the sharing of those brighter parts that lets us see that there is beauty in all of us. We need only be brave enough to show it."


    The axe wielding brute shrugged and said, "I''ve opened up a lot of insides. They pretty much look the same."


    Jarvis tried very hard to hold in his amusement at the wisecrack.


    Teshara looked at the big man with steel in her eyes. "When I look at you and see your ''insides'', there''s a lonely child hurt by cruel jokes and blunt opinions. Now you use those very same things to hide your best parts for fear that someone will find a way to hurt you again."


    The elven girl looked over the brute again and could see the telling sings of a desire to lash back held in check by a ''greater'' man by the sorceress'' side. "Nature gave you physical greatness. If the greatness of your heart matched it, you wouldn''t lack for love and adoration."


    As the mercenary lapsed into thoughtful silence, Owen chirped, "Your words inspire me, milady. Perhaps you could spare a kind word to lift my flagging spirits?"


    With an arrow of vitriol knocked in her verbal bow, she resisted the urge to fire it as she saw an expectant look on Teshara''s face.


    Choking it back, she said, "A man who has grown addicted to vice and easy affection will have difficulty finding pleasure in naught else. I pity the hollowness of such a life. That pity is the only thing that keeps me from wishing you ill. Please stop pestering me with your endless litany of shallow and insincere advances."


    As Owen pelted her with a diatribe of flowery words that had veins popping up on her forehead, Teshara came to her aid. "Owen. Stop now. I have no doubt that under your ridiculously thick skin is a fragile heart looking for something meaningful to fill all those hungering chasms within you. If you don''t start looking for it somewhere other than between a woman''s legs, you''ll never find it."


    The sorceress'' eyes grew distant, she nodded with a smile and added, "No one carries more sadness than the clown because humor comes mostly from pain. Don''t forget to wipe off the paint every now and then so you can remember how to be a person."


    The incorrigible man, who had been revving up for more annoying rhetoric, found the words he was about to say shrivel up on his tongue.


    The fragile moment of inner growth the two women were trying to nurture was shattered by the mercenary. "Yeah, don''t just dive straight for the sweet spot. A nice pair of... bosoms. You should give those some attention too."


    "A juicy peach of a heart shaped hind quarters is worthy of a man''s loving caresses as well. The sorceress'' words are the very peak of wisdom, Jarvis," Owen nodded sagely.


    The adventurer gave them a look that said ''don''t drag me into this'' before pretending like he hadn''t even heard it. The two women looked at each other and Teshara threw her hands up in defeat, letting out a monotone laugh to shake off the urge to cry. The rest of the day''s trip was spent with Jarvis and Teshara silently hoping they''d get close enough to help Orison complete his transition to his waiting vessel before the elven maiden put an arrow or dagger through Owen''s face.


    Two days later, tensions were high and there had been more than one occasion where dangerous fights between the group and roving monsters broke out. For whatever reason, the mercenary guarded the minstrel meticulously. The elven maiden held a good balance of weaving herself between axe, sword and spell to provide admirable support.


    Teshara had a moment of conflict within due to the growing danger. On one side was the knowledge that everything she had was because of the other soul within but it was because of those same things, her new life and the life inside her, that she wanted to call it quits. Sensing her wavering resolve, that other soul communicated with her.


    The sorceress addressed the ragtag group. "We''re going to find a safe place to overnight the three of you while I try to reach our benefactor''s vessel with Jarvis. Think on whether you wish to wait here or... Never mind. It seems that he thinks it''s best that you wait with us at the nearest safe town."


    The young elven woman wasn''t happy with the declaration. "How is he to reach us safely? We have begun encountering things that grant the lot of us a challenge."


    Jarvis interjected, "We are free peoples. Perhaps your skills are good enough to avoid what we must face when together. What of you two?"


    Owen wasted no time expressing his desire for civilization.


    The mercenary said, "If the future boss said wait in town, I wait in town. We have plenty of jingle and sparkle to keep us happy for a few years. A few weeks of waiting to see if he can pull through is no skin off the nose... Uh, what''s he look like?"


    Teshara said, "Do you remember how I appeared when we first arrived? Like that but male. Then again, he may look different entirely... You called him a nickname when you barged into his room after Owen. He''ll offer that as proof of identity."


    The man blinked slowly and said, "The Briar Ro- she was a man!?"


    "Not at the time but that''s not my story to-" the sorceress'' eyes grew distant and sighed before adding, "Apparently, from the time he was a person named Al onward, HE has ALWAYS identified as a man... heavens preserve me. As if it matters."


    After some inward bickering, she laid the law down that if she couldn''t concentrate, teleports couldn''t happen. Once the rest of the entourage was safely tucked away, she and Jarvis prepared for two more jumps to try to get in range. Both Teshara and her spiritual passenger were concerned how their relationship would change if that wasn''t enough.

 240 The Fool 45

    Orison opened his eyes to a smiling pair of scarlet ones framed in a strong and severe face. It was still beautiful and made even more so by the upward quirk of lips that transformed the woman from stern to wicked.


    "I''m so confused right now. Wasn''t Teshara just trying to see if she could get in range? Of my body?" the young mage said.


    The woman was stunned. "When you said that things had grown too painful for you, no one could understand that better than me but you wiped the slate completely clean!? You''ve forgotten about us and our dau- our daughter?"


    She stared at him like she would end him before her lower lip trembled and a single tear slipped down her cheek. Orison may have forgotten everything about this woman but his soul cried out at her misery. He hugged her for all that he was worth and it took every bit of that to keep her from throwing him down and mauling him in a summer storm of rage that came and went with the same amount of suddenness. She dug her fingers painfully into his back and bit into his shoulder with a force just shy of damaging more than skin as she indulged in a handful more tears.


    Less than a half minute of indulgence in momentary weakness, she stood up straight and packed it away with practiced ease. "There''s no way you''d do that. I can''t allow myself to believe you capable. What''s the state of your soul?"


    Orison turned spirit sight inward. The second layer was relatively empty save for minimalist adventuring gear, a small pile of vulgar wealth and a neatly organized set of alchemy equipment. The portable cabinet had been exchanged for a much larger one that was mostly full and looked somewhat similar to it''s smaller cousin.


    Half expecting not to be able, he looked into the first layer. Dimmed all the way down as low as he could and still be able to sense, the center was still too ''bright'' but he could sense a wobbly instability. It wasn''t dangerous but there were definite signs of spiritual wounding that had been healing for a time. He told her as much.


    She didn''t look as listless after that. "I''m going to have Teshara look in on you. If you move out of this bed before she says it''s alright to, I''ll break your legs and throw you back in it. That''ll just be the foreplay, love."


    He felt perfectly fine. In fact, he felt restless and the need to move around was almost unbearable but he had no doubts that the woman only his soul seemed to remember on a deeper level, wasn''t the type to threaten idly. Nearly half an hour went by before the sorceress looked him over with a neutral face that had shifted from smiles at seeing that he was awake and lucid to a deep sadness at how much he had forgotten.


    Orison said, "Please tell me what happened. I can only remember up to where you were trying a last ditch effort to get me close to my body not too long after we arrived here."


    Teshara said, "I''m not keen on many details but perhaps it''s better that way. We spent a couple of years and a couple of attempts to reach the place your body was but it was just too dangerous. After that, Evan found a plain lass down on her luck and struck a bargain with her. Nine months later, out you came. And let me tell you, sad as it is to admit, you were one ugly baby but you grew into everything surprisingly well.


    "For a hardened mercenary, Evan was a doting father and spoiled you rotten. He was... nice to your mother and that seemed enough to keep her happy. You probably would have had a whole mercenary company worth of siblings but I think that your mom may have done some dark deed to him to make sure you didn''t have competition from the wrong side of the sheets. If he knew, he didn''t do anything about it til his dying day.


    "Your nephew is your only living relative from that line and he''s a little... difficult. He''s never really shown much interest in us unless he wants something and we''ve distanced ourselves with him over time. Owen kept the business Evan started up and running for awhile but lost interest in trying when it was obvious what your nephew would do with it. Owen passed away two years ago and the elven lass who traveled with us at that time never gave him a child. No one knows where she is.


    "You were close to a boy nicknamed Country when you were growing up and both of you used to squabble over this strange girl. No one interfered because it was obvious that the three of you were far too ''mature'' for your ages. That''s when Winter came. She''s been glued to your backside ever since.


    "It was odd but when Winter finally won your affections, your friend and that strange girl had a falling out with you. Either you understand the reason or it''s a lost one. Country seemed more than happy to reconcile things but not just a couple of days after the two of you were seen together fishing, they vanished. He returned a couple of years ago to discuss some important things with you and Winter. But after a brief visit, he was gone again and hasn''t returned since."


    Seeing that she was winding her story down after sharing a few mundane details and ready to leave, Orison said, "What about my daughter?"


    Seeing the pain on Teshara''s face, he instantly regretted asking.


    "Don''t you think that should be a conversation you should have with Winter?" the sorceress said.


    Orison nodded slowly. "It won''t be any easier for her and if I know something about it going in, we might have a better time talking it through. But if it''s too-"


    Like a soldier barreling into enemy lines, she said, "She was lost along with our second child. There were many others, friends and allies that came to our aid when the blue eyed void came."


    The Sorceress collected herself and left. Orison was left with many questions. He could feel the truth of wanting to forget, even if he had forgotten more than he had meant to. It left him confused if it was the right thing to do, pushing for answers.


    In his moment of alone time, he checked his connections. There were two. One was with Cray and the other was his patron mark that he had given to the deep elf. Stefen''s was gone and the young mage felt like there was a huge story there, one intricately linked to the things he actually wanted to forget.


    Winter returned, looking at him hesitantly as if expecting fear, reprisal, anything other than something positive. He scooted over and propped a few pillows next him on the bed before patting it. There was a wariness, as if she expected it was a trick but she came and sat next to him.


    "How long have we been together?" Orison asked.


    She relaxed a little at the question. "Twenty-three years. It used to bother you that I would subtract the hours and days we were apart. You explained that even when we weren''t physically together that it didn''t mean we weren''t with each other ''in our hearts''.


    "Do you know how difficult it was to woo you? I mean, in my culture that IS the job of the woman but it''s usually a discussion with the matron where the man has little say. It took two years to see past my idol worship of you and another to gather the courage to confess. After that, it took three MONTHS to seduce you and another two to pry you loose from that selfish woman who wanted you and Cray both."


    Taking all that with a grain of salt, Orison asked, "Why did you choose to be a woman when you were reborn?"


    Winter laughed and said, "Much for the same reason an upworlder woman might choose to reborn as a man, I suppose. I wanted to feel the power and prestige, the privilege of living as the dominant gender. With how little I knew of upworld, I feel like I outsmarted myself. Mostly, I was in love with your light and the selfish demon part of me wanted to own and possess it even as the rest of me revered it.


    "I originally told you that it was so I could be stronger, so I could protect you better. I thought it was sweet and stupid that you said it would be hard to see me put myself in danger for you once the reality of me being a woman sunk in. I tried to explain my culture and the truth of my people but you had your own culture and instincts to deal with.


    "For the record, Deep Elf woman are bigger, stronger and naturally more aggressive than the men. Most of our heritage is elf, true. But, we have a strong legacy of arachnid demon blood in us as well... I guess that''s as good a point as any to talk about why we didn''t have more children after...


    "Her gestation was hard on me. Not for your human reasons, the raising of instinct and impulse. Much of my past life, I faded on purpose but I kept some of them to remind me of the woman I wanted to be and not become like my mother. I swore I''d never raise a hand to my man or try to ruin his self value with cruel words.


    "At first it wasn''t that bad, a playful slap or harmless pet names that were only demeaning if examined closely. But as the pregnancy advanced, my words grew sharper and the playful slaps left marks and even the occasional bruise. Then one day during my eighth month, you accidentally broke a little meaningless nothing of mine and I beat you.


    "You possess a great deal of upworlder male pride and laughed it off. But for a moment, there was hurt and fear there. Within hours, you had already put it behind you but it haunts me still. Teshara helped me understand about subtle body humours that shift during pregnancy. It gave a reasonable enough explanation but I know my people and the darkness inherent in them.


    "After River was born, I swore I''d never put you through that again. You were angry when you found that I gave my fertility up in a rite to Jarvis and Teshara. Once you had forgiven me, you teased that in our next incarnation we could switch rolls and give River a sibling then. That tease tuned into a promise connected to my pact mark after her- after she was gone."


    Orison was poleaxed that he could say such a thing, much less swear on his true name after what had happened on Jarvis and Teshara''s world. A quick inspection of the mark confirmed it to be true. As long as the mark and the promise within remained on her, in their next incarnation, a point he was a little fuzzy on, he would be a natural born woman and Winter a natural born man. His soul would draw on its understanding of law to make it so.


    He had to remind himself that version of him was a man who''d lost his only child with the woman he loved, a woman who feared her own darkness to the point that she would not conceive again. Partners of twenty years who hadn''t grown apart could mean a lot of things to one another. It helped that he DID have the ability to remove that mark but was willing to sit on it until he understood how things had changed. There wasn''t any reason to do any drastic and hurtful actions in his current confusion.


    Seeing the mixed emotions on his face, Winter said, "We need not be in a hurry to ascend. The tether that kept us here, you have finally reclaimed... Just promise me one thing. When you are ready, please let me be a man as your people understand them and not mine. I am fearful that you will attempt to control and abuse me once you are the female and the naturally dominant one. It is a fear born from guilt but it persists."


    Knocked from his own musings, Orison chuckled and said, "Keep in mind, this is like fresh news to me. How far does this reversal go? Do men raise the children while the women work and fight as a social norm?"


    Winter laughed so hard it looked painful.


    Wiping a few tears from the corners of her eyes after she pulled it back together, she said. "It has been so many years since you''ve asked me that, I forgot how cute your confusion is. The only men that are pampered and coddled are those who are favored by their mistress or matron. Domestic affairs are handled by slaves and... magic constructs, for the more progressive or bloody cities. Only the lowest caste within a house tend to the young for a small amount of years before they are sent to their respective education camps. Gender has little to do with it.


    "All authority and decision making power resides in the hands of women which may be lent in small portions to capable men from time to time. Accomplished academic casters and field commanders may be predominately men but they answer to their matron. They must pay due respect and difference to any woman equal or higher in caste.


    "Anything more would be pointless to know. I have tried hard to put it behind me and I already understand your loathing of a culture influenced by... demonic morality. One mercy given by your loss of memory might be that you will not remember the small fights and growing pains we endured, learning how to be a partnership of equals."


    She hesitated for a moment and then said, "I was born and raised a woman of the deep elves in this life. I used your patron mark to escape to you once a certain coming of age ceremony was being prepared for me. I do have memories of being a man but they are distant and dim things kept for their knowledge and ability to be who I wish to be. Does this bother you again as it once did?"


    Orison said, "I''m surprised it ever bothered me if you told me that. I have vague memories of past lives and understand perfectly well how powerful a current life''s drives overshadow them. It probably bothered me that your mannerisms struck me as ''manly'' by human standards which would have made me question how much of a woman you actually saw yourself as. Culture clash confused as something else, is what I''d guess."


    Winter said, "I know you''re mind is all over the place trying to put things together but would you answer my request for a promise? Alleviate my worries."


    He looked at her worried face solemnly. "As long as our love shall last, your happiness and well being will be no less important to me than my own. I promise."


    She frowned. "It sounds like demon wording to me."


    Orison said, "Controlling you will make you unhappy and abusing you will harm your well being. There''s a whole lot of other things that are covered by what I said. I''ll make mistakes and so will you. We apologize, try to make it right and move on. Why make a promise meant to be broken?


    He smiled at her reassuringly. "I don''t know how much you''ve paid attention to human culture over the years but shouldn''t I be the one scared to death you''re going to put me in a dress and hurt me the moment we swap the goods!? A proposition that I am in no way or shape prepared for, by the way.


    "It''s a strange thing to not remember someone but deeply care about them. Help me know you again. We''re not in a rush to ascend or anything are we?"


    She said, "No, no. Absolutely not."


    Severe face turning wicked, Winter added, "Besides, I''m not ready to give up being a strong, aggressive and insatiable woman quite yet... Your previous body was bigger built but it wasn''t as inherently tough as this one. I never did get to sink my teeth into the you I first saw that day, surrounded in light, looking like a celestial escaping the filth of the world."


    As Orison was about to explain what really happened, she put a finger to his lips. "It''s my dream. Don''t tear it apart with dull truth. Since you want to know about me all over again, I''m hoping you''re interested in knowing some neglected parts of me that haven''t known YOU in quite some time."


    He was. And even though it was awkward at first, that seemed to only excite her more. They spent a great deal of time knowing each other all over again the next few days. It was at that point, he realized they were displaying such wanton behavior in the guest house of Jarvis and Teshara.


    With an embarrassed apology that only made the older couple laugh over a faint pall of sadness that seemed to linger around the place, Winter and Orison returned to their own home to find it empty.


    As ruby eyes blazed with growing fury Orison asked, "Who would rob a house blind in the middle of a peaceful town like this?"


    "Your nephew," she growled.

 241 The Fool 46

    Murderous rage bubbling under her calm demeanor, Winter said, "You always do this. How many chances does someone get just because they''re family? Does it matter that Dem-"


    Orison put a finger to her lips as she had done to him many times when he was about to mention something she didn''t particularly want to hear. "I don''t want to know his name, love. It will make what I''m about to do easier."


    Trying her best to look concerned over smiling blood lust, she said, "You probably shouldn''t kill him. You''d only regret it later... Maybe just rip off a leg or three?"


    Orison shook his head. "What''s the point in violence. I''m certain someone among us had already tried to teach him with fear and pain. If that was effective, we wouldn''t be facing this now. No, I have a much better use for him."


    He ignored the guilty look she wore as the ominous declaration stimulated the darker side of herself in a very physical way. The young mage felt like he had a small insight into the struggles for spiritual redemption she must have faced fighting such a strong, wicked impulse.


    "Before we confront him, there''s a couple of things I need to tell you, Winter. I think I know why I wiped so much clean. The monster that we faced, the thing everyone is calling the blue eyed void, it corrupts and drives people mad with knowledge. It''s that simple.


    "It''s to a greater degree what the creature I and ''the boy'' used to start our climb and probably has a grudge against us because of that, even though we had little to do with what happened. I believe that entity may be one of its spawn and when that entity was hurt, it fled to its parent. If Gnarly IS that parent or a relative of some affection, it would suddenly make much more sense why it targets and tortures us.


    "I don''t need to know all the gory details but how did we succeed in driving it off? From what little I''ve gathered of ''the boy''s dealings with it, Gnarly isn''t something capable of being fought. It''s avatar is only a tier five down here but it gives off the sense of being ''unending'' and I use the term ''only tier five'' loosely. That''s plenty powerful enough to be soul shockingly terrifying in its own right."


    Looking haunted, Winter said, "Its an agent of chaos purer than any demon. It was already here, had been for some time. It only moved out into the open because of you. No one knows what you said to it but whatever that was, it seemed to amuse it. All its hidden agents and meticulous plans, it just cut them loose and went away while this plane was left to deal with all of it.


    Orison nodded. "That''s for the best. The more we think about that thing and its doings, the more of its attention we draw to ourselves. It bothers me that I won''t be able to know for sure, among all those I know, who survived or fell but time and climbing will no doubt reveal that. Every survived calamity has its rewards, however.


    "While we were getting to know one another again, I have been investigating myself and drawing on the fading secret knowledge that only unmoored and shedding souls possess. Our daughter''s soul has moved beyond my reach to retrieve but she''s somewhere being reborn in the mid-dimensions. Our time with her may be over but her journey is far from. We can take some solace in that."


    Winter gave him a weak smile and nodded.


    He added, "While I was floating out there in the Beyond, I have a sense that I fought against something and reached a truce of some kind. It let me bring some souls back with me. Most had moved on but there were a couple that hadn''t yet. Their attachments to the world or each other required more time to fade.


    "There are a lot of things I can''t share and I''m meant to forget. There''s one thing I can share, though. Even before you were a deep elf, you were a Draconos named Rose. The ''struggle with darkness'' is part of your soul''s journey. Mental disease, demon blood and addiction were all different parts of that journey at one point or another. It''s a harrowing and dangerous one but there''s power in it too. Every time you succeed, every small battle won makes you stronger."


    Over the last couple of days, he had argued with himself if it was the right thing to do to tell her. In sharing, he had essentially taken the journey of her soul and given it''s hard won power over to form a ''key'' to climb instead. The Gany-mead and the inner power he siphoned to her through the patron mark had helped her build a hollow tier four existence with no understanding of law and no ''steps'' to climb.


    He had a vague awareness that journeying souls had their own form of climbing they did through facing a specific set of challenges but they did so through living lives unaware of what came before. Being a climber wasn''t superior to that in any way and possibly not as far removed as he had once thought. He tried justifying his decision based on their entanglement and the inevitability that she would become a climber as well but it rang a little hollow in his heart.


    Right there, in the middle of the street they were walking down, Winter experienced her first two baptisms. As strong as she was in body and spirit, she barely even sensed the first one but when the second one descended on her, she shuddered and looked at Orison in wonder and awe. A touch of the old fanaticism gleamed in her eyes once more.


    Orison cautioned. "Spoon feeding that to you was no favor. Sharing your soul''s journey with others weakens its ability to strengthen you. Tell no one. If someone guesses, that''s all well and good but volunteer it and your name to no one. If you should ever awaken a true name then it''s fine to share your given name. But, once again, never volunteer your true name to anyone."


    Winter''s eyes smoldered. "I want to carry you back home and have my way with you. But then I remember, we have no bed and I don''t want to get splinters in your backside."


    The young mage chuckled with equal parts nervousness and anticipation. He had become all too acquainted with the dubious benefits of having a wife that was a ''touch'' crazed. He took the bad with the good because he loved her. He focused on the good because it was easier. And considering the parts that were ''good'', it wasn''t that hard to do.


    On the rest of their walk, he regaled her with the small stories he could remember about Rose. "Remember, I was still a part of ''the boy'' at the time."


    She smiled wickedly and said, "But I still taught you how to fight dirty. You killed me but then brought me back. I confessed that I thought I was in love with you and you threatened to get a restraining order!?"


    Orison snorted. "''I'' was a little scared of you but also more than a little curious. ''The boy'' didn''t particularly care for you and I wasn''t in any position to dictate his love life. Another had already taught me the err of trying by then and it didn''t seem right anyway. I was ''supposed'' to be a silent partner that helped as much as I could, not a backseat driver."


    She caressed his face and said, "Aww, poor baby was in the back doing all that hard work and never got to have any fun."


    The young mage shrugged. "It wasn''t all bad. It was kind of funny how he thought he was me most of the time. I never felt ''that'' left out. He took a moment here and there to thank me. Though, looking back, he was mostly thanking himself.


    "You know, since he thought I was him and most of the stuff he praised came from him to begin with. Now that I think about it, he ragged on me pretty hard unknowingly. He was quite the accidental narcissist."


    Walking through the Prize Pig Inn, they noticed a lot of unfamiliar faces. Peppered among them were people Winter recognized by reputation. Those reputations weren''t good or bad but there were a lot of religious folk with a gavel or flat sided war hammer depending on which branch within the church of the god of law they served. It bode ill of what waited for them above.


    In the upper suite of the inn, they found Orison''s nephew having a grand time. The soft, somewhat over weight young man was reclining in a cushioned chair flanked by guards of the church who didn''t particularly look thrilled to be there. None projected that displeasure more than a man whose eyes radiated a touch of his patron''s power.


    Oriosn smiled faintly. "You were roped into this family squabble by a generous donation to see that justice was served?"


    "A sad truth of the world that even justice is bound to secular need for sustenance, shelter and equipment," the man said.


    The ''nephew'' was about to speak but was pushed into dry swallowing silence by two sets of glowing eyes staring at him with disdain.


    Sighing and squeezing his wife''s hand for patience, the young mage said, "What legal standing did he use to claim our property?"


    "You were deceased. Even though you have returned, it is not within the body of a bloodline descendant of your mortal family. You were never married to Winter in the laws and traditions of this country. Common law marriage doesn''t exist here." the man said with regret, obviously aware that the ''justice'' being served here hinged on a technicality to veil the greater ''injustice'' it protected.


    "And Winter''s private property that was seized, how is that accounted for?" Orison asked.


    The man said blandly, "A thirty day notice to evacuate the premise was issued thirty-eight days ago."


    Orison smiled. "What are an ancestor''s rights the the physical property of their loins in this country?"


    A corner of the man''s stern mouth twitched upwards. "An archaic reference to a kingship''s standing allows for a father or grandfather to claim the bodily physical property of a descendant if that descendant is considered to be of vital importance to the continuation and prosperity of a line. Even so, the descendant in question must be declared legally incompetent by an unbiased medical professional."


    Orison smiled wider. "And is there a medical professional within your retinue capable of making that legal declaration?"


    "Yes. Is your counter suit for physical or mental incompetence?" the man asked.


    Seeing that things had taken a dangerous left turn for himself, the ''nephew'' in question said, "This is audacious! I paid the donation! Why does he get to make allegations?"


    As a nearby cleric cast a ''hold'' on the young man, the Divine Representative said, "You requested justice. If you had desired biased intervention, a mercenary company would have served you better."


    To the side, Orison added. "A difficult proposition due to having gambled, dank and wh*red away the legacy his grandfather had left for him, leaving several mercenaries looking for a new company employer once the doors to the security firm closed. These are my official arguments for declaring incompetence. Him being the only living descendant is my claim on that Kingship''s standing."


    "And you evidence for these allegations?" the Divine Representative asked.


    Orison gestured around. "Are the present witnesses to his activities within this establishment and current circumstantial evidence substantial enough for Your Honor?"


    "They are, assuming you can produce an ancestor capable of holding the claim." The man said.


    The moment Orison withdrew Evan''s soul, the nephew began shouting charges of necromancy that gained no traction. Aside from a small one that the Divine Representative severed, there were no curses twisted on the soul, much less ones empowered by Orison. Some testimony later, the Divine Representative ruled in the soul''s favor and restored it to the land of the living within his grandson''s body.


    With a donation from Orison, the man put a little extra effort in reviving Evan''s physical pattern. With some creative tweaks to bring out the best, the holy judge completed the revival. After taking hold of ''the nephew''s soul, he turned to Winter.


    "As a party to this trial, are there any testimonies or claims you desire to press?" the man added.


    Winter nodded. "If I wasn''t in a good mood, I''d massacre the lot of you and feed your body parts to your acolytes for making this farce even possible. You should thank the indulgent heart I have for my little husband that this ended peacefully."


    He stared grimly back at her and said, "By the power invested in me by my god and in accordance to the laws of this land, I absolve this soul of any further debts or considerations to the parties present and commend it for consideration before the god of the dead."


    He looked one last time at the weak and feeble soul and released it from the protection of his aura. "May They have mercy upon you."


    While Evan recovered from the fugue of revival, Orison whispered a few words in his ear and turned to Winter. "''My little husband''?"


    "Turn about''s fair play. Or are you going to pretend you didn''t just speak for us both without so much as a backwards glance towards me?" she said with a wicked twist of a smile.


    Orison sighed before conceding. "Touche. And you DID hold yourself back from doing something that would have caused us endless grief while getting a fairly satisfying lick in at the end there... We were never officially married?"


    Winter said, "I asked you to be mine and you said yes. Our care and devotion is the only proof we need to declare the truth of our joining. If the day comes that is no longer true, we no more need anyone else to make the ending of our union official as we did the beginning. Church and legal documents are an excuse for lazy feelings and self indulgent complacency."


    Wryly, Orison said, "And I''m sure our loud and verbal arguments over that fine point is what inspired that sh*t we sent packing to the afterlife to do what he did."


    Annoyed, Winter said, "And as I''ve said many times before, when its your turn to be queen of MY heart, you can have a wedding. That was the compromise."


    With mock hurt, Orison said, "Does this mean our second honeymoon''s already over?"


    Switching emotional gears like a professional ''feelings'' race car driver, she shot back, "It hasn''t even started yet and that''s something I fully intend on taking charge of. Do you have a problem with that, ''little husband''?"


    "What do you tell people who ask you if I''m whipped, ''queen of my heart''?" he asked.


    "Yes, but only when he asks sweetly," she replied saucily while black lines formed down the side of his face as he chuckled listlessly.


    Reviving Evan, AKA: Hefty, had been a lot easier than he thought it would be. But bringing Owen, AKA: Mellow, back from the dead was a little more complicated. Evan possessed a rather uncomplicated soul but Owen was as much of a hot mess spiritually as he was in the flesh.


    Two weeks later, everyone witnessed the awkward and bittersweet reunion of the two ''funny buddies''. It ''only'' took the body of a soulless cultist who botched a devil summoning, Orison playing musical chairs with bodies and a reserved lady aristocrat with appreciation for the ''fine arts''. She found it all ''very exciting'' and Owen was revived with one financial patron already procured.


    Old debts paid and a few wrongs righted later, Winter finally talked the young mage into a vacation. That vacation slowly transformed into a world tour. They made love, hunted rare ingredients capable of potentially surviving the ''last big leap'' into the mid dimensions and Orison finished polishing off the law insights he had. They had become a force nearly untouchable within the lower dimensions, even being so close to ascending.


    As months bled into a year, Winter finally said, "I know that you''re nervous but you can''t begin that new journey until you take that last step of this one. I''m perfectly fine continuing to wear the bra in this relationship but I''ve enjoyed the privilege long enough to let you take charge for awhile, if that''s what you really want. I know that we both want another child and I can''t afford to step down from my soul''s current challenge."


    Orison said, "There''s so many unknowns. Our progress is slowing down, I know, but we''re safe. It''s the first time since I started climbing that I''ve spent so much time feeling carefree and not having to worry about some horrible surprise coming to ruin my life or kill me."


    An annoyingly pleasant and familiar male voice Orison hadn''t expected to hear again said, "Could there have been a worse time to show up? That''s absolutely dreadful and ominous."


    Another man''s voice that stirred a warmer reception in the young mage''s heart said, "By the shadow in my bones, is that you Orison!?"

 242 The Fool 47

    "My god, I can''t tell you how great it is to see you," Orison said.


    The dragon blooded man smiled widely and said, "I feel much the same, Orison."


    "You''re both welcome," the unfamiliar blonde haired, blue eyed man said with Stefen''s voice.


    Broken from his dumbfounded gawking, the young mage looked at still annoyingly handsome, still half vampire man and said, "It''s good to see you''re doing well too, Stefen."


    "I''d prefer Drake, if you please. The one you know as Stefen was a shard of me or some such mysterious thing. Although, his sentiments have been well preserved by myself." the dhampir with a far warmer aura said.


    Eyes narrowed and all but dripping venom, Winter said, "I thought we had an agreement, Drake. I recognize your friendship but you know how our bloodlines react to each other."


    "Yes, yes. I know. Although it''s hardly fair, I had no intentions on breaking that agreement but these are special circumstances. I''ll retreat to a reasonable distance. Orison, when you''ve caught up with your old friend, I''d like a word," Drake said with a voice that, although Stefen''s, had a naturally hypnotic quality to it.


    Such a thing didn''t bother Orison but the young mage could tell that it did terrible things to Winter''s mood. He quickly agreed to Drake''s request so that the dhampir could give distance gracefully. Drake may have been more socially graceful about it but he was having difficulty not showing aggression towards Winter as well.


    Gesturing to the stone bench, Orison sat and took Rithus in a second time. The dragon blooded man looked more human but the spiritual bloodline within was definitely thicker and more robust.


    "I always hoped I''d get a chance to see you again but I never thought it would be a you without a tail. It was like your vanity feature," The young mage said.


    Rithus gave his signature mild and easy smile, comforting and non-assuming. "I have another form with which to display my full glory but it takes me some time to return to human shape."


    Orison said, "You can go full dragon!? That must be amazing to see... Oh, sorry."


    Winter''s elbow gave the young mage a quick reminder that he was being rude. "This is Winter, my wife... Winter, this is Rithus, my dad."


    On that slip up, he saw both Winter and Rithus look at him, a little shook by the accidental declaration.


    Stammering and red faced, Orison said, "I- I mean, when me and ''the boy'' were one person. He was, is if he still thinks... We''re at the beach. Can I just go bury my head in the sand for a minute?"


    It started as a faint rumble and built to a full roar of laughter.


    "I''m truly pleased and honored to be considered that still. There''s no need to be embarrassed about it, son. Even when we first met, if you had been this Al person, would I or would I not have not been old enough for the role? I was a dulling scale and loose toothed old man at the time.


    "Oh, I ran into your grandfather''s reincarnation. He was doing well for himself but he was not the man I remembered. Good living has turned him quite arrogant and self important but large hearted none the less."


    The young mage asked, "Why did Morrel make the choice he made? To this day it doesn''t make any sense to me."


    A ghost of sadness drifted across Rithus'' face. "The will of Amoril had backed him into a corner of difficult choices. He discovered one he could bear. Droya fared much better when the world attempted to do the same with her. Still, she must find it difficult being separated from her family and only able to speak with them through a shrine. At least she has Rozcherek ease her loneliness."


    Orison''s Eyes shot up. "Droya''s with the Abyss Lord!? Ease her loneliness? How is she safe?"


    Rithus shook his head. "Many things changed when Amoril rose. Some were faster than others. Roz was one of the slower changes but he is a shrine deity like Lady Mother Droya now. A secret order monk assured me that they will only be dependent on a connection to Amoril for a short few hundred years before they can break free and seek other opportunities to advance as we do."


    The three sat and chatted for some time. The things that Orison learned of his starting place were a mixed bag of good and bad as life tended to be. He was sorry to hear that Venito and ''the boy'' had a falling out. It seemed without ''Al'' to mellow him out some, ''the boy'' and Venito were a little too similar to get along.


    Along similar veins, ''the boy'' had lost a few other people along the way due to losing some of his flexibility and willingness to compromise. The saddest of those losses was Gan. Wendy and the scout had become close friends and that should have good news. But after a blow up due to misunderstandings, Gan had left and never returned. The couple were looking for signs of the scout at The Nexus. That was the last Rithus had heard of it.


    Among the memories that Orison had forgotten was a visit from Tait, Gan''s younger son. Winter chimed in that he and Orison were kindred spirits and had become good friends before the battle with the Blue Eyed Void. After losing friends and his lover during the event, Tait understandably needed time to mourn but had never mentioned if he would return. Not even when the mage had met up with Rithus later.


    It seemed that the man who was still a Marshlander in his heart, or rather his bones, wasn''t there by coincidence at all. He had come for the purpose of seeing Orison. There wasn''t some huge reason why, only the urge to see a beloved friend. Being able to leave as a recognized father was more than just a sentimental bonus, however. He received his fifth step baptism during their conversation. It was a testament to the young mage''s sincerity and the ex-Marshlander''s willingness to accept the declaration as truth.


    Sadly, Rithus couldn''t stay long. The shadow in his bones was telling him that an important juncture between places would open soon and he was very close to achieving an old goal he had set for himself. It was private in nature and even though he didn''t say what it was, he admitted to some embarrassment over it.


    To keep from causing tension, Winter gave her surprise father-in-law a slightly stiff, brief and light hug before hanging back. She didn''t really know how to process the concept of chosen family. She certainly didn''t know how to process the internal conflict caused by running across a devil blooded person. Having experienced a similar thing between the fey and fomorian, Orison reassured her that he understood.


    As the young mage walked with Rithus to where Drake had patiently waited, he tried to make sense of how he should treat the near stranger. There was a sense that came from his soul that the two were close friends in much the same manner as he knew that he loved Winter upon sight. It was a disjointed thing to feel a strong connection with someone but not remember why that connection existed.


    "I would love to linger and share some of the lighter hearted and positive stories that existed before and between the painful ones, Orison. Sadly, our visitor is on a strict time table and your wife would be cross at me were I to return without good reason. Here, take these and bind them," Drake said as he handed two clear and hollow orbs only visible to spirit sight.


    "What are these?" Orison asked as he held them with a dubious expression.


    The dhampir smiled faintly and said, "Artificially created soul shells. The very peak of the condensed knowledge and wisdom Noxflora''s witches possess. Each one took nine years of dedicated ritual work by nine witches. Eighteen tedious and dry years worth of effort by nine powerful and important people rests in your hands.


    "In theory, you should only need one to mask your spiritual signature and, if necessary, provide protection from the memory stealing force of soul migration. They made two just in case your space decided to eat one. Whatever that means."


    After an inspection by himself to confirm what was said, not forgetting the ''crown of thorns'' lesson, Orison listened to Drake''s instructions. He isolated two strands of non-essential memory holding soul stuff and pushed them into the orbs before merging with them. One stretched and wrapped around his soul''s space and the other rested within his spiritual seat.


    For a few minutes, the young mage and Rithus discussed future plans and ways on how to find each other once Orison had crossed the divide. The ex-Marshlander shared some of the tricks and workarounds of the far more restricting rules that governed the mid-dimensions that Drake chimed in with as well. It was obvious that no one was really willing to part after such a brief reunion but Rithus was getting anxious.


    A little unsure how it would be received, once they had shared parting words, Rithus awkwardly opened his arms. The young mage hesitated for a moment but smiled widely and went in for a hug. The last lingering strangeness of their declared emotional place for each other dissolved.


    Still embracing tightly, Rithus said, "I''ll be waiting for a longer and more satisfying reunion on the other side, son."


    Orison, feeling a little choked up, slowly nodded once and said, "I''ll get there as fast as I can... dad."


    A dim flash of light passed between them and Orison sagged for a half second before Drake touched a mini trainer to him. Rithus looked at the two with building confusion and a little suspicion as he let go of the young mage and backed up.


    Dake whispered, "Please don''t act as if anything is wrong. Your... son is with you. A scrapped plan for ''the boy'' was set in motion a long time ago. He ended up not needing it but he passed everything he didn''t want to Orison, including that and several negative things. When you''ve found your special someone, your first child will have an unexpected fraternal twin, a girl.


    "That girl''s natural lifespan will be eighty-one years no matter what is done to extend it. Before that time elapses, she needs to have found a partner and carried a child to term. If not, then Orison will awaken within her and die on the eighty-first year of life, re-inheriting all that was meant to pass with her.


    "Grandma Georgia, who communicated with me through my retinue''s spirit medium gave me those shells and told me of these things. It sounds ludicrous but she gave me many signs and shadows of events to verify the truth of her words. She also told me to tell you that you should share these things with Keita. She has forgotten her previous life but her soul remembers and knows much."


    Orison''s body, now possessed by the second soul shell had finished the process of absorbing what had been shoved into it. "I can only speak what I know but through my connection with my true soul, nothing that has been said is false from my understanding. I want you to know that you have no obligation to any of this. If anything that''s being asked of you now or in the future is against your free will or desires, don''t do it."


    Drake looked at ''Orison'' in shock. "This is your life and future! Decades of effort and resources have been poured into this. You should be begging him to understand and help you, not just throw your hands up and say ''What will be, will be''!"


    The Orison clone smiled mischievously, threw his hands up and said, "What will be, will be... Rithus, listen to the shadow in your bones as you always have and do what''s right for you."


    With the strongest poker face Rithus had ever displayed, the ex-Marshlander said, "I notice you no longer call me dad."


    The clone nodded. "You know why. I don''t want for my feelings to be important in what is your decision and I won''t use yours to try to manipulate you."


    Rithus hissed in agitation and faded from view, using his own shadowy version of planar travel.


    Drake sighed as he stewed in his own frustration. "Thousands of souls, decades of work and dozens of worlds'' worth of resource scouring. I thought I was a stubborn a**!"


    The Orison clone chuckled lightly. "And I feel ashamed to death about that but it doesn''t change what''s right. Now, if you''ll excuse me, I need to find out if I can survive my wife''s wrath long enough to make some more pleasant memories. Eighty-one years might seem like a long time to some but it''s the blink of an eye for those like us."


    Drake suddenly looked listless and tired.


    The Orison clone clamped him on the shoulder and rested his forehead against Drake''s. "If she legitimately tries to kill me or abandons me, I''ll find you. If not, give me twenty years with my lover and I''ll spend the rest of my life playing sidekick for you."


    The dhampir perked up a little but was still gloomy. "What do I do after that paltry sixty years?"


    The young mage''s copy said in a chipper voice, "Well, I''m personally hoping that you''ll learn how to play nice and get along with others by then. But if you''re still having a hard time making friends, you can always go find the real me. Arrogant and self entitled hedonist sidekick will probably still be open since Stag threw in lots with ''the boy''."


    Drake stiffened up. "That mossy antlered gigolo and I are nothing alike!"


    Orison clone rolled his eyes and said, "I know, I know. You are WAY more handsome than he is and SO much more sophisticated."


    Drake smirked and replied, "You forgot to mention how I''m more noble of spirit and blood than he."


    Orison said, "No I didn''t. I said ''arrogant and self entitled'' earlier."


    "When Winter tears you apart, maybe I''ll make a nice skeleton mage out of your remains," the dhampir said sourly.


    "How boring would that be?" the clone said, no less chipper.


    Wryly, Drake replied, "Terribly so."


    ***


    The little boy woke up from another nightmare. He started having them after he turned seven but nearly a year later, they had taken different flavors and there were things in them that he didn''t understand. Sometimes he''d wake up from them giggling after the terror wore off. Sometimes he''d just be confused and unable to tease out the meaning of the mysterious feelings they evoked.


    After one such dream, little Orison called out to his guardian and teacher. "Tell me the story of how I was born again, Uncle Tait,"


    The man sighed and said, "Your mother was a woman of extraordinary beauty. She had suitors from many lands and even other worlds. But like the fabled princesses, she grew bored of the attention and longed to be free of it. So, she held a ball and had her many suitors compete in feats of intelligence, ability and physical prowess.


    "Some were there merely as guests of your grandfather and competed for the sport of it. It was from among these that your tutors were picked. It''s a shame you didn''t get to benefit from their teachings for long."


    Little Orison said, "I liked Uncle Hunter the best. He always taught me using all kinds of fun games."


    Tait showed mock surprise and said, "I thought you liked Auntie Wei the best?"


    "I like her the best in a different way but... I like Auntie Babs too. Do I really have to beat up Uncle Garret before I can marry Auntie Babs when I grow up?" the little boy asked, looking a little intimidated.


    Muttering under his breath, the veteran mage said, "Not if I beat him up first." Talking at normal volume again, he added, "You shouldn''t be making googly eyes at your tutors. Past, present or future, you''re supposed to be learning from them... Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"


    Little Orison stopped protesting and waited quietly.


    Clearing his throat, Tait continued, "When all the competitions were over and the winners announced, she surprised everyone by picking the oldest and ugliest human who attended, the one who had played around at the challenges but intentionally lost them all."


    Excitedly, the boy said, "That''s my dad, the one I was named after! He wasn''t really ugly. His first wife scarred his face before they broke up."


    Tait pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to tell the story or me?... The whole event had been a sham in her eyes. She picked the biggest loser. No one really knows why. The rest isn''t a really nice part of the sto-"


    The boy frowned and said, "The story says that a Greater Fey named Ivan stole her away and a dark elf lady rescued her but my dreams told me a different story. She ran away with Ivan for fun but they didn''t end up getting along. She called her secret girlfriend to bring her back home and married dad so that everyone else would leave her alone.


    "She didn''t die because she pined to death over my dad. Their time just ran up. Winter was supposed to be my dad but she didn''t want that. So, she just helped take care of me when I was really little. I think Winter DID pine to death because she loved my mom. Why didn''t dad get mad when they played around with Uncle Cray? Isn''t that bad?"


    Tait shook his head. "These aren''t things an adult should talk to a child about. If you haven''t figured things out when you''re older, we can discuss it then."

 243 The Magician 1

    Shadowy figures and shadowy conversations whose words wouldn''t come all the way to the surface of their mind from their soul swam around. An enemy came. One unlike any faced before. It invalidated everything material. Names, entire histories of lives were just gone, as if they never existed. Even the world from that time was erased as if it never was.


    "My name is Orison. It means prayer. Maybe I''m the only one who remembers me, the only one who might be able to remember them. And I know there was a ''them'', many ''thems''. I''m their only prayer...


    "Why do I exist? Why am I the only one who was capable of surviving? Was I spared for the sole purpose of living this life surrounded by shadows, a witness to an event no one else can remember?"


    A shadow unraveled to reveal a word with a definition.


    "Acausality. It''s mostly a made up word and I don''t know who said it to me. But if my survival wasn''t on purpose... being unmoored from standard cause and effect might actually explain it.


    "I have an enemy. They seem to have no goal and act almost purely off of whim. What are they called?... They have many names but the one I know, the one that causes the most hate to well in me is ''The Blue Eyed Magician''. Then I will be The Magician. It might be basic and crude but it puts me in a place before that thing. They are just one of many kinds where I will become the definition of what they are merely a representation of.


    " Now that I have a goal, what do I do to achieve it? Do I need to become more powerful?... No, that doesn''t sound quite right."


    A shadowy veil lifted off of a stern man''s voice lecturing. "You, like I, are a tier four existence. With one foot in the mortal and one in the transcendent, you are both and neither. Walk the line between. Search for the truths within mortal existence to fully step into the transcendent."


    A child''s voice asked, "And that will make me stronger, more powerful?"


    "Strength and power are situational. A strong person may fall where a weak one may survive. A power may be godlike in one place or instance and become worthless in another. By all means, pursue them but recognize that they are a means to an end. They are tools.


    "They aren''t only found in external existence but also within. A strong soul and body might help you claim them but a clear and focused spiritual consciousness is necessary to use them. And until you can make what you use a part of yourself, they can be taken away from you."


    The magician took some time to run through a cheat list of quick experiments designed to point out the rules of a reality quickly and efficiently. Once they had a decent idea, they sized up a set of durable denim and some boots. Once done with that, they let their space sample the fabrics and tools in the store, finishing it off by tossing the cash register into the first layer of their space to be chewed up for the precious metals.


    Walking down the main street of the abandoned town, Orison repeated the process in multiple other shop fronts, sporadically placed diseased and partially rotten corpses the only witnesses. They were tempted to summon a mount but the world they were in was an advanced payment casting kind of reality. Magic was expensive in general as it wasn''t something that was readily available to everyone.


    Firing up a solid looking economy car, the magician siphoned off as much gas as they could find from the other vehicles and stored it in the trunk. With nothing else of interest, they took off, following a vague impression of where intelligent life might be found. It would take some time.


    The reality was dying. It was in the mid-dimensions but falling rapidly to the dividing line. There wasn''t any reason for the magician to fear that anymore. Inert essence pressed from all sides but Orison welcomed it into their space at a pace just shy of their ability to generate life and spirit essence.


    What was a terrifying scenario that needed to be escaped as fast as possible had become an endless banquet of inner growth. It was a slow and steady acquisition but it needed to be. Inert essence was like water to the magician, myriad in use but potentially lethal if overwhelmed by it.


    That was reason enough to not be in any particular hurry to leave but another reason was potential will shards. When a reality breathed its last, if a will was still attached, that will would fragment along with the existence. Such fragments possessed potential insights into laws but not all laws were useful. A tier four typically had incredibly limited ability to hold shards and ones possessing law insights outside of their concepts were all but useless.


    The lower dimensions had more dying realities but shards from them weren''t nearly as potent. Chancing upon one in the mid-dimensions was quite a lucky find but there was increased risk as well. Tier fours weren''t the powerhouses they were in the lower dimensions and dying realities could garner the greed of tier fives depending on size and contents. The rare mad god and other eldritch nightmares might plague such places as well but were fewer and further between than in the low.


    Everything had its exceptions but this place didn''t strike Orison as being exceptional in any particular way. That made it a perfect place for them to start their new journey ability growth-wise. The same couldn''t be said for keeping the dying coals in their ash strewn heart from extinguishing but a remembered promise was enough to keep them alive for awhile longer.


    As they traveled, feeling a faint drawing to something, the magician ran into a small group of survivors shacked up in a prison. It hadn''t been a bad idea but the leader of the group was a bad man. Two of the man''s subordinates lead Orison to receive an audience.


    Peeling a withered apple, the heavily muscled and scar faced man said, "What skills do you have and why should we spare any supplies for you?"


    Orison smiled and said, "More than you can handle and I don''t need your supplies. I stopped because your men flagged me down. I assumed they needed something. Turns out, what they thought they needed was my car."


    The man leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and said, "Turns out, the strong own everything and what you NEED is someone strong to find you useful... Take him out back and have some fun. Don''t hurt him too much. My right hand might take a shine to him."


    The man went to straighten up with a leer on his face but suddenly went slack-jawed as his eyes rolled back in his head. He slumped forward, dead. No one else in the room was capable of seeing the slight tendril of smoke waft up from a pinprick burn in the corner of his left eye.


    As the scruffy and dirty smelling man on Orison''s right went to check on the leader, the one on the left held a gun to the magician''s head. "Move and I blow your-"


    With a fluid motion, Orison twisted the gun out of the minion''s hand. Two ''bangs'' later, there were three bodies in the cafeteria turned reception hall. A little over ten minutes and four more dead bodies later, the magician had informed the remaining and turned the place over to them.


    They were confused why Orison wouldn''t stay and was even more confused by what little was taken along with the three least useful people there. Back on the road with a solar compatible SUV, the magician looked over their new traveling companions. There was a catatonic young woman who had endured everything there was to endure, a man quickly approaching forty missing several pieces of himself and a six year old boy who was looking at Orison like he was seeing the devil incarnate.


    "Why did you take me? What are you going to do with me?" the boy asked.


    The older man seemed interested in knowing as well. Although, that one wasn''t talking. It would have been hard without a tongue anyway.


    "I took you because, if I didn''t, the survivors of your father''s cruelty would have taken their pain and hurt out on you. As far as what I plan... I suppose I''ll drop you off with a group of people who don''t look psychotic and won''t have a reason to hate you because of your father," they said.


    Two days later, Orison found an older couple with a relatively neutral aura and traded off some goods for them to take the hateful kid in. The magician would have tried harder to find him a better home but he''d tried one too many times to cause mischief. The husband looked like a heavy handed disciplinarian but since the boy''s father was likely no different, it wasn''t that bad of a match in a dying world filled with much worse.


    When the SUV pulled into a withered corpse riddled town, the tongueless man went white with fear. "We are safer here than in other places. As long as you''re with me, disease is one of the least concerning things about your world."


    The magician took some time to clean out and clean up the suite in the hotel before stockpiling useful goods and valuables in it. After that, they got busy fixing their people projects. The man was a nightmare of issues, Orison sadly wished they had some troll fat for.


    A couple of days later, Orison took a break with the project named Gus.


    As they sat back drinking some random top shelf that wouldn''t matter to the magician unless they were guzzling it, Gus said, "Why?..."


    "Because I can. Because it''s better than being alone and someone who owes you is less likely to do you harm unless they''re a pile of crap," they said.


    "Is that why you chose me, because I''m not a pile of crap?" Gus said with a bitter chuckle.


    "Less than most of them there," they said almost ambivalently, which stole the words out of the man''s mouth for awhile.


    A few hours later after a DVD movie ended on the generator powered TV, Gus said, "You could have grabbed up one of those willing girls or that one eager boy, if that''s your thing. One more thing to do while we wait for the world to end. Least, that''s what it feels like."


    Orison smiled and said, "That''s exactly what it is. They were young enough that if they came with me, they might live to see it. I didn''t want that."


    Smirking at the gallows humor, the man said, "And I''m not? What about her in there?"


    The magician shrugged. "You might or might not but she WANTS to see it. It might bring her soul some peace before she passes on to her next life."


    A ghostly rasp of a wail emanated from the catatonic woman''s bedroom. "That''s my call, Gus. Help yourself to whatever. There''s no real need to hold back but try not to get too drunk. We''re going to be back on the road tomorrow."


    The next day, after sterilizing the foodstuffs, toiletries and valuables that had taken anyone''s fancy, the small group was back on the road. The young woman was weak and her leg muscles were atrophied but she would suffer the pain to walk a little more. She only would allow Orison near her and she would freeze up, begin her raspy wailing, if he did anything more than offer an arm or shoulder for her to brace on.


    "Why don''t you drive the car, Gus? Just keep her under thirty-five and be ready to stop if I say so," Orison suddenly said after a grocery raid.


    "You expecting trouble?" he asked.


    The magician shrugged. "I don''t think so but it''s possible. No matter what you see or hear, calmly slow down and park at the side of the road if things become strange. I''ll say ''punch it'', ''bust a U'' or shout ''breaks'' otherwise."


    Over the next couple of days, the magician would direct Gus to make a detour or stop and wait when they felt a vague and distant signal of something supernatural occur or move nearby. As the group got closer to whatever faint pull Orison started to feel, the presence of supernatural activity became less vague and distant but the older man expertly responded to directions.


    "Odd question. Were you a cabby before all this went down?" they asked.


    Gus sighed. "Box truck driver for a moving company. Did some independent work for one of those hospital ride services before that. You can''t imagine how relieved I was to get out of that before the Silent Death plague hit. Nobody knows exactly what causes it."


    The magician said, "It''s a one-two punch. There''s a fungus that releases a mild immune system suppressant and a blood born virus that stays dormant until that immune system weakness occurs. White blood cells prioritize virus over fungus. They help each other out. The reason why it happens so fast is supernatural."


    Looking excited, Gus said, "Does that mean you could make a cure?"


    "It would be pointless. The plague could be seen as an act of mercy," they said.


    For the first time since she stirred from her trauma induced coma, the young woman said just above a whisper, "How is global genocide a mercy?"


    "To limit the amount of people who have to suffer the end. A dying world is no place for souls to grow. It''s a charnel house for heavy souls to fall." they replied.


    Looking out the car window with vacant eyes, she said, "If that''s true, why did you save me?"


    They gave her a gentle look that showed a hint of repressed madness."Because you wanted to see the world end. I don''t know if you will but we''re going to where the world''s destruction will start, at least on this continent.


    "I didn''t save your lives because I think I can help you survive. I did it because I think I can save your souls from falling. You were tortured which helped reduce your debts but you need to find something positive to latch onto. It doesn''t have to be much."


    Gus chuckled humorlessly, "If you''re selling religion, I''ll buy as long as you''re helping us survive."


    Orison sighed. "Sorry, I''m a godless independent and I don''t have any desire to be one either. A god, that is. The only salvation I''m selling is the kind you can only give yourself. The currency I''m using to sell it to you is just your company.


    "I''d say that''s pretty cheap but I''m heading to the heart of darkness. I can''t guarantee your survival. Feel free to leave when you want."


    Gus stopped the car. "You''re headed to the most dangerous place possible?"


    "We''re already mostly in it," Orison said with disturbing calmness.


    The man turned the car around and started driving the other way.


    "You don''t want to go? There''s a gas station over th-" the magician said as Gus ignored him and kept driving straight at greater speeds.


    Trying to appeal to reason one last time, they said. "If you don''t calm down, we really will run into danger. If you don''t want to go, that''s fine but turn right at this next road and we''ll find you a-"


    Seeing that they were going too fast to make the turn, Orison ghosted while spreading his aura over the young woman, snagging her with it like a small net, barely able to fit her in. It took a couple of seconds for their momentum to slow to floating stillness. The magician was a little fatigued but the maneuver was pulled off without injury to the young lady.


    Mystified at what had just happened, the young woman had forgotten her aversion to physical contact and was practically plastered to Orison''s back. Brain catching back up to speed on what it witnessed and what she was currently doing, she jerkily stepped back twice to create distance. She was stunned out of a building flashback that would have left her paralyzed by the appearance of a phantom horse.


    "The sign had one and a half miles to the gas station. You haven''t recovered enough to walk that far. I''ll put the horse in the ditch... There, climb on and I''ll keep it out for awhile. Don''t worry. We''ll go slow and I''ll walk beside," they said.


    She looked at the horse dubiously for a moment before complying. Half a mile down the road, Orison suddenly felt something approaching. Under orders, the horse took off into the brush while she screamed hoarsely through dry, unlimber sounding vocal cords. A few seconds later, she and the magician were sprawled out in the tall grass as a familiar SUV caught up to where they were and sped past.


    Myriad buzzing filled the air mere moments later. The cloud of insects was moving far faster than it should have been able. In it''s center, something vaguely human shaped was visible but even Orison couldn''t tell the exact nature of it. The massive swarm surrounding it was an effective screen against the more detailed aspects of spirit sight.

 244 The Magician 2

    "Was that thing stronger than you?" she asked.


    Orison said, "I don''t think so but there''s nothing to gain by fighting it either."


    The young woman searched the magician''s face for signs of lying. "That was Gus, right? Even if you didn''t care about him, there was the car and all of the things you''ve gathered in it."


    "There are plenty of vehicles and anything that was in the car was junk convenience. The lion''s share of the important things, I keep with me... We walk for now. If your legs start cramping up, let me know." they said.


    The young woman nodded.


    A few minutes later, unable to bear the silence after she had found the inner strength to break it, said, "How are you broken?"


    Orison stopped walking. "Why would you ask that?"


    "You said I need to save my soul... Give me something to work with," the young woman said.


    The magician chuckled. "You want to fix me?"


    "No, I want to fix myself. Trying to think about someone else''s problems might help with that," she said, mustering up the best poker face she could.


    Orison smirked, "Fishing for weaknesses to exploit won''t help you with your problems. But, why not? I''ll tell you what I know about myself. Maybe it''ll help, anyway.


    "I used a spiritual clone residing in a previous life''s body to impregnate another version of myself. I tried picking someone with a decently powerful spiritual bloodline, at first, only to find out that my soul rejects them and the idea of having a lover or a close friend be my parent was a more disturbing proposition... So, if you ever get fed up with me and tell me to go f*** myself, I can tell you from personal experience. It''s a lot more empty of a proposition than you''d think.


    "Although I can''t remember them, I had a lot of people I cared about erased from existence. They weren''t killed. They were erased. As in, it was like they never were.


    "That should have been the end of me too but I survived. I survived and have no one... yet. I can feel that parts and bits are scattered all over greater creation and I might find them. I also know that not everyone I knew was there on the world that was erased.


    "I was having an identity crisis of epic proportion before the monster who took everything away came. You''d be surprised how much of a person is defined by the desires and expectations of others. Even after they''ve left your life or passed away, they still remain... Not so much for me anymore.


    "Three separate personalities that didn''t clique well, vying for dominance inside of me, drove me to the brink of madness. It took losing nearly everything but myself to realize how vain and shallow that conflict was. Three people''s worth of knowledge, wisdom and perspective may have had a hard time all fitting into one person. But after losing everything else, it''s like a few fireflies in a giant jar left sitting in a dark and abandoned house.


    "Oh, there''s shadows, lots of them. That abandoned house is full of ghosts. Empty but without room for anything else, that''s what it feels like. The thing is, I can''t clear it all away.


    "All those ghosts might be the only anchor and compass to saving what was lost. Maybe it would be better to say that I''m a theater with all the seats reserved but no one coming to sit in them. If I start taking the cards off the seats, I can bring new life into the place but that''s a person lost for good."


    They walked in silence for awhile. Eventually, the young woman needed to rest. After giving her some water and something to eat, the magician gave her some space to take care of business. They endured some trauma induced wailing to massage out a bad cramp while running some healing through her before getting on the road again.


    More to distract herself from her own ghosts than for Orison''s benefit, she said, "My aunt married one of those rich over night app designers. They bought a big house, a really nice car and a lot of other things. After awhile, my uncle''s one hit wonder app''s popularity started to fade and they suddenly found themselves facing a shortage of cash flow.


    "Neither of them had been particularly poor before. And after growing accustomed to living a certain way, they found a hard time readjusting to living on less. Not too long after mom and dad talked about how my aunt and uncle were about to lose everything, mom called grandma to go chew them out and talk some sense into them.


    "Permanent staff became a once a week cleaning service. The cars, jet skis and boat were pared down to more affordable and easier to upkeep options. But the house, that was their dream home. Grandma couldn''t get them to give an inch of ground on it. It was a nun from overseas that helped them with that.


    She stopped talking for awhile but picked back up where she left off on the next rest break. "The old nun''s great grandparents bought a countryside manor that was a sinkhole of money but she had many fond memories of the place. Among those memories were ways that her great grandparents found to make it work. Most of that won''t really matter to you but one thing might help. She taught my aunt and uncle how to only use the parts of the house they needed while keeping the rest of it closed up safely.


    "After getting used to the idea, my aunt and uncle ended up liking their home more. It was too big and made them feel small inside of it. The didn''t need to fill it with stuff. They just had to limit themselves to the parts they needed.


    "It sounds like you''re house is too big. Cover the furniture and close some of it off until you need it again. Rooms don''t disappear if you don''t aimlessly wander through them everyday.


    She paused to gauge if he was listening or was getting annoyed before adding, "A person can''t cling to everything, either. It''s sad to let things go. But if you keep trying to live beyond your means, won''t you lose everything anyway?"


    The young woman couldn''t tell if Orison had listened or not but forcing herself to reach out and try felt like it had exercised other atrophied parts of herself. It made her ache and feel a little emotionally tired but a little rest might find her a little stronger too. That was, if she didn''t run out of energy for herself. She felt cast adrift in an emotional and spiritual famine, giving out a precious bit of nourishment that could keep herself going.


    The magician stopped to consider. A single tear fell down their cheek as a gust of wind blew a nearly translucent smoke away from them. Within danced thousands of people, buildings and even animals. Fragile patterns, barely preserved, were set free to disintegrate into the air.


    It was a grim realization but the young woman witnessed that her words may have helped Orison survive some kind of internal struggle but that bore a cost. She couldn''t understand it fully but she knew. Those things that just disappeared on the wind would never return, never exist again.


    It didn''t stop there either. As they kept walking, the magician continued winnowing through and letting go of the easiest of their hard choices and started going through the more difficult, the more painful ones. The next rest stop wasn''t for her but her rescuer. They needed a moment to mourn the concession, acknowledge what was too much to bear and still have the ability to strengthen and grow rather than just maintain.


    They said, "There''s something inside of me. A key shaped something that helps me hold on to all this, granting me a chance to restore what was lost, but I was holding on to more than it could handle. I held hope that I might find something outside of myself to give me what I needed, to not give anything away. But I had hours, days at most."


    "What do you think the most precious resource in all of greater reality is?" they asked her.


    The young woman thought it over carefully. Her words held more weight than they ever had in her entire life. She was speaking to an entity struggling to maintain and determine if an ark full of beings teetering on oblivion would be lost forever or exist again.


    She said, "Doesn''t that change depending on need? It would be the thing you need the most to survive at any given time, I guess. It''s water when you''re thirsty, food when you''re hungry. That keeps going til it''s relaxation when you''re stressed and an outlet for your emotional needs when all the other basic ones are met."


    Orison grew thoughtful again. "How does one trade resources of situational value for resources of incredible value only to yourself and those like you, without being opportunistic?"


    "How likely are they to becoming like you or those like you, themselves?" she asked.


    They shook their head. "There''s no clearer answer than; not likely but always possible."


    Head spinning with possibilities and personal benefit, she answered, "Offer to share the secret to become like you to a few in exchange for a reasonable percentage. You can show them how to make the exchange for a percentage of what they earn. You can leave the morality of choices to them."


    Orison chuckled bitterly. "A pyramid scheme? That''s how a devil would do it, I think."


    Startled, she said, "Are you talking about selling a soul?!"


    "No. Although, a soul is involved," the magician said.


    Thinking harder, she asked, "The thing you want to exchange for, do people make it continuously throughout their lives or do they only have a limited amount that they''re born with?"


    Orison said, "I''m not sure about that. It takes active effort for souls to produce it, though. So, making a tie to collect long term would be the most profitable. That could apply to both parties since an ongoing exchange IS possible."


    She stopped walking and sat down. "Then, set a personal rate of exchange that seems fair to you. Once a certain amount is collected, meet a need. Alternately, meet a need up to what they have to offer and take it, making yourself available to exchange again once they have more... A series of micro-transactions would be the best, if what they need and what you want to meet that need can be provided in small amounts continuously."


    Orison sat beside her with ample space between. "The first is how gods do it, I think. The only way to make that work fairly has serious drawbacks, since you''re constantly in debt to the other parties. Once all those debts accumulate among a large amount of similarly minded people, they can subconsciously leverage that debt to alter you into their image of you. Completely out of the question.


    "With varying degrees of the second part of the second option, I think that''s how demons and djinn do it. If one was willing to devote most of their time searching for large paying individual exchanges, that would make them like the fairy godmothers and such from children''s stories. That sounds fun and good spirited but awfully invested in what amounts to only one of multiple resources needed.


    "Now, the last one I know. That''s pact making. It''s not a bad option but it does have the downside of requiring semi-permanent connections with others. Those connections can be traced or even used against you."


    The young woman took her shoes off to help rub the soreness and ache out of her own feet. "Work through an intermediary or multiple intermediaries. Combine the best of devil and pact. Just because it''s how devils do it doesn''t mean you have to do everything else about it like devils do, right? And, micro-transactions really are the best method.


    "It gives you a lot more control over balancing your supply with demand. You can make adjustments easier to suit your needs... or fairness, as well. The only real challenge is choosing a trustworthy intermediate willing to take the risk of...tracing and whatnot for you. Oh, and paying them a decent wage of course."


    As Orison pondered it over seriously, she looked at him with a face full of expectation. After a few minutes, the magician was looking at her with a mirror of her own look.


    At first, she was puzzled and then frowned. "Um, have you made any decisions?... There''s a strange buzz in my ears. Is that monster thing coming back?"


    Orison sighed and said. "They''re not strong enough to communicate directly, huh? The buzzing in your ears is one of the stronger shadows at the fringe trying to communicate with you. It''s offering you a choice of three pacts. Right now it can only hold one specific ability but as it grows in strength, it can offer more..."


    After having the magician explain for the shadow, although she was disappointed, she accepted a pact for a burning needle that she could summon and direct at will. Although the power was at will, she still needed to rest after using it beyond a certain point and there were lots of other minor details. Some of which would become unimportant or no longer be a problem with time.


    "How did you do that?" the young woman asked.


    Thinking it over carefully, the magician explained in a limited way. "The thing that holds the shadows is my primary intermediate. And when the shadows are strong enough to volunteer, they can work for their own strengthening. I have a source of inner power that my body can''t use directly but can be funneled through my intermediate to empower pact holder abilities. The shadows are taking the greatest risk and get the greatest reward while some of what they earn trickles to my intermediate to replenish what it spends. After some time passes, I''ll get a little too."


    Disgruntled, she said, "I gave you the idea. Is being an intermediary off the table?"


    Orison shook their head. "It IS off the table. You don''t have the ability to act as one but you do have a spot reserved to work for some personal strengthening after you die. Work as little or as much as you want before passing on to your next life.


    "Just so you know. If you accept being a pact shadow, you''ll be expected to work until your pact holder dies or the two of you mutually dissolve your pact. My intermediate will enforce fairness. You wouldn''t be offered the option but you are my first new pact using this method and deserve a chance to benefit from it."


    What they didn''t tell her was that debts had to be repaid. They didn''t know if it would matter or not. It worked both ways and it would take time to find the right balance but Orison was determined not to cheat others or be cheated by them.


    As they walked, the young woman played with her new supernatural weapon some. Orison let them do that for awhile but finally intervened after it looked like she had it''s basic uses down. They explained that she had a lifetime of ''essence of existence'', what They renamed ''faith essence''. Once that was burned through, she would have limited use between rests.


    "Once you''re down to daily limited use, you can more easily overdraft and burn through spirit essence and even life reserves. Frugal and judicious use is best but do what you will," the magician said.


    A ghost of a genuine smile drifted over her face. "It would be in your best interest to withhold information like that but thank you."


    Orison gave her the ghost of a smile in return and nodded. "''Fair'' might be a nearly impossible standard to nail but balance is easy enough."


    "So, when will I be able to heal wounds and regenerate missing body parts?" she asked.


    Black lines formed down the magician''s face as They attempted to explain current versus future limitations. That conversation was still ongoing when the two saw the SUV Gus was driving, off into a ditch on its side.

 245 The Magician 3

    "Can you drive?" They asked the young woman.


    She said, "Decently. I''m not as goo-"


    The magician pulled a set of empty clothes from the driver seat and threw them out along with a large amount of empty food packages left in the back seat. With a casting of Presto, there weren''t dead bugs or eggs left in the car either. At least, none that Orison could see.


    "Let''s have a trial run to the gas station up the road. If everything looks good, we''ll take a detour through an out of the way town for resupply and rest. Then, we''ll start heading to our original destination," the magician explained.


    Later that evening, the two were passing through a third town free of corpses but with random clothes discarded here and there. It seemed that they were passing through the bug cloud monster''s previous path. Finding additional food was a great deal more time consuming but the occasional house had hidden stores of ''apocalypse ready'' supplies. The current need wasn''t overly great but Orison was preparing for future needs as well as present.


    "Why do you pick up so much stuff if you don''t care about it?" the young woman asked curiously.


    The magician replied, "My grandfather was a shapeshifting dragon."


    She looked at him with wide eyes.


    "That''s not the reason but it''s also true... What, I''m not allowed to tease? I like comfort but I try not to become attached to it. It''s a kind of exercise to amass things and allow them to pass to others. In the right kind of situation, a roll of toilet paper or a pack of batteries can make a friend," They said.


    The young woman asked nervously, "Do you... like me?"


    Orison chuckled. "I hardly know you but I don''t dislike you. Why?"


    Looking a little scared and on the verge of a panic attack, she said. "I-I noticed some of the things you''ve been collecting and wondered if... if you planned on using them with me."


    They shot her a look of sympathy and said, "I didn''t get them with any one purpose in mind. With one of my abilities, they have a variety of uses outside their intended purpose. I don''t personally need them for ''that'' at all...


    "Don''t look at me like that. Although I''m not overly eager, at the moment, I''m capable and not particularly unwilling. But, I certainly wouldn''t push my affections on someone that was anything less than clearly consenting."


    Looking relieved but unconsciously still tense, she asked, "Just to make conversation, what''s your type?"


    "The most important thing is feelings, though. I tend to be a mirror to the person I interact with. If someone loves me, I''ll eventually return that feeling in some form. Though, it''s not always the one they want from me.


    "It''d be the natural thing to return the question but I have another instead. Do you want to be a man for a little while? It wouldn''t be permanent and maybe it would make you feel safer."


    The young woman said, "... No!... I''m sorry. I-it''s hard to put into words but... I don''t think that would be a good thing for me."


    Orison knew the woman was a sensitive but They had underestimated by how much. The closer they came to their destination, the tighter time laws were winding. A quick check on a marker point left where the magician had arrived on the world placed that at around a twenty times difference. The closer they were to the pull Orison was feeling, the slower personal time was moving and the greater the stress the frame and structure of reality was under.


    The young woman was overcoming her trauma at an advanced pace because her spiritual consciousness was straddling the line between her body and her soul. A physical body synced with the environment it was in but the soul synced with the reality as a whole. A consciousness, which bridged the two could gain a great deal more in such a situation, the more sensitive it was. That applied to healing from trauma but also to the accumulation of it as well.


    Such tighter wound places would also be where the fractures on the world would occur. The fragments that would stick to the mid-dimensions instead of sinking/merging with the low would be found in such places. It was all theory but from what the magician knew, that seemed the most likely outcome. There was a lot more that They didn''t know and experiencing it first-hand would be a valuable learning experience, assuming They didn''t die.


    That night, while they were resting, a part of Orison''s consciousness was using intent and Spirit Sight to attempt learning how to ''see'' the stress marks caused by reality''s ''fall'' as it died. There were a couple of different times that the magician had fell prey to naturally occurring traps created by inharmonious stress and fracture points in space-time. After having experienced the floating ''splinters'' on the adjoining planes of Beta Majoris, They had a reference. Learning how to recognize the dangerous stretching and splintering of space-time when the signs were more subtle would be an invaluable addition to Spirit Sight''s usefulness.


    The next morning, the young woman had turned a freeze dry ''breakfast scramble'' into something that actually resembled one. While they ate, she chatted about the romantic comedy that she had watched on the portable DVD player they had picked up the day before. It was nearly surreal how ''normal'' it felt.


    On the road, she said, "We''ve been traveling together for a while now and we still don''t know what to call each other. I''ve never been a big fan of my full name but I don''t mind my nickname so much. You can call me Cat. What should I call you?"


    Drawn out of Their half-trance study by the question, Orison replied, "Sonny''s fine."


    Once the floodgate had been opened, it gushed. Cat''s voice would be a bit raspy for the rest of her life but it was fuller and stronger once she started using it. She seemed intent on making up for all the time she hadn''t been.


    Although it disrupted the magician from his studies once in awhile for comments that required response, that wasn''t such a bad thing. The idea was to be able to notice stress marks and fractures without warning, after all. Popping in and out, searching for the nearly invisible signs, was good practice.


    While Cat drove, occasionally asking Orison to change out a music CD, the two began noticing a thinning of everything from trees to houses. The trend continued until there wasn''t much more than a carpet of tall grass browning under summer heat. The magician would have been alarmed considering the roaming supernatural dings on Their radar but Cat put Them at ease.


    "It was the Fallow Field Phenomenon. In the first year of... plague, the sudden drop in travel and commerce caused issues with agriculture. Large commercial farms closed their doors all over the place in tandem with small community co-ops popping up." she said.


    Orison frowned. "That doesn''t explain the lack of houses and other buildings."


    She added, "Oh, safe zone building material reclamation. With so many places a no-go for anyone but authorized government personnel, local government began issuing permits for reclaiming materials from unused structures. Foreclosed and unclaimed property of deceased households defaulted under state government control. Law enforcement was so overworked that anyone could just go and start looting or tearing down other people''s houses in outskirt areas like this."


    "Because of that, most of the relatively nicer communities we''ll meet were formed from neighborhood watch ''militia''. You know, when we do. We are going to where more people are at some point, right?"


    The magician nodded. "There''s almost guaranteed to be protected communities but I don''t know who, among those that might let us in, will be safe to join."


    Flashing Them a wry look, Cat said, "And that''s different from normal, how?"


    The magician sighed. "I guess it''s not, really. I was talking about supernatural or supernatural aware communities, though."


    To help her get a grasp on what They meant, Orison shared some stories about Their time on another dying reality without bringing up most of the confusing parts. Before They''d completed those stories, They sensed a somewhat familiar disturbance in the air. It was a boundary crack like the one They were stuck in within the purse''s illusion version of the other dying world.


    Orison thought, "It shouldn''t be that bad. We''re going around thirty miles an hour and the road''s cleared. Most importantly, no one''s wearing enchantments that might interact with it. I wonder how she''s going to react to the feeling of passing through it."


    With some mild anticipation, the magician was monitoring carefully as they passed through. There was a static tingle and a sense of increased gravity pulling down that only registered on a supernatural level. That should have been it but there was an unpleasant surprise waiting on the other side.


    Among a loud crunch, The two barely had time to register that they hit a physical barrier before Orison reflexively ghosted to keep from busting through the windshield. There wasn''t enough time to reach out to her in any way as They sailed through the air and the wall of force that had stopped the car.


    Twisting in air, the magician could see the look of confusion and pain from the seat belt biting into her. She, the car and everything in it looked ghostly to Orison as They finished passing out of the boundary''s field of effect. Even that only lasted but a moment before she vanished from view completely, drawn into the rift.


    Through the key bound shadow holding her pact mark, They saw her personal time slow down. A moment later, as They came to a floating stop, Orison''s ability to monitor grew dimmer as she slipped into a vacuum-like space. For the short few moments she was like that, as her time sped up far past Orison''s own, the temporary pressure of the air conditioned car kept her from suffering more than some disorientation from weightlessness.


    Suddenly fatigued from a surge of essence They gave to the Entanglement Key, Orison kinetically pushed through it at the car. Not too far from her location there was another rift with faint essence signs indicating life. It was a close call but the car managed to hang on to enough oxygen and cabin pressure to keep her from passing out as she sailed through it.


    There were no more visuals. The shadow wasn''t strong enough for anything more than to act as a passive intermediary for the moment. It was strange feeling the fast forward of complex emotions working themselves out but it seemed she was alive and relatively unharmed. Assured that They did what They could within reason, the magician focused on Their own person situation.


    Orison was stuck in ''see through'' form but wasn''t paying for it anymore. They seemed to be in some sort of magic circle hidden in a hollow under the asphalt but there was no one else around. Looking back behind Them, the beginning of the rough and irregular boundary wall showed a scene of peaceful and uninterrupted scenery.


    Someone was using two stretches of wires to pass a low current of electricity between locked boxes on either side of the road. The magician had no idea how it worked or what principle was used but it caused a small portion of the boundary''s wall to act as if it was solid to things within the boundary line''s effect. Since boundary lines weren''t something Orison understood anyway, it was pointless on guessing but they filed the piece of information away.


    "Well, at least the occasional ion shimmer is colorful and pretty to look at in Spirit Sight. I wonder what aurora borealis would look like when viewed under a powerful Spirit Sight capable of reaching it. " the magician muttered.


    They were stopped by the magic circle to begin with but tried to forcefully push through it anyway. The dome of power might as well have been made of steel for all the traction Orison could get in ghost form to pass through. The only bright spot was that, since the circle was paying for the ghost form to remain active, it was powering down fast.


    They waited patiently while using the opportunity to study the elusive form that seemed to be available only when void form was restricted or denied. It seemed that the ghost form was actually a transitional state from the normal material plane presence to the extra-dimensional one. Knowing that, Orison was confident that They could arrest the transition to void form before it completed. In places where going ''2D cut out'' was allowed, it would likely be a cheaper alternative with a lot more utility.


    It had been nearly five minutes and most of the power used up when two cars came screeching to a halt several feet away. A bald man in his mid forties that was covered in tattoos and looking more than a little worse for wear approached the circle with hurried movement and barely contained excitement. He was joined by a handful of younger men and women ranging from mid teens to early thirties.


    With a barked order for them to maintain the circle in complete silence and to not look inside, the man turned to Orison, refusing to make direct eye contact. "By the power that hath been granted to man by God, to have dominion over the earth and command over angel and demon alike, I order you to reveal your name to me."


    They felt only the slightest compulsion to answer but saw no harm in giving some form of address for the half crazed man to use. "Uh, you can call me Sonny, I guess."


    "Sonny, by the Holy of Holies, tetragrammaton, by Elohim and all the sacred names of the divine, I command you. In which sphere do you reside and what title do you hold there?" The man intoned with a solemness and charismatic force that superseded his unwholesome appearance.


    A compulsion with the force and unpleasantness of being slapped in the face with wet toilet paper broke over the magician. They were tempted to answer with a nasty rebuke but a small trickle of essence of existence came from compliance to the first question.


    So, with building annoyance, Orison answered, "I reside in the material sphere and my title is The Magician."


    The man blinked in surprise. "Within the- within the hierarchies of the infernal and celestial hosts, where does this title rank?"


    "It doesn''t. I don''t belong to any host''s hierarchy. That includes abyssal to save you some time," They replied.


    Looking confused, the man said, "To what placement of power do belong in the cosmic order?"


    Orison was puzzled by the unclear wording. "Between mortal and transcendent? I''m a tier four... That''s equivalent to a demigod''s level of power and ability."


    Doubt cleared from the man''s face as he laughed contemptuously. "A lowly egregore who postures and misleads with pretension. Swear to serve me all the days of my life with utmost loyalty."


    "That''ll be measured in seconds if you make such an asinine statement again. If you''re done, wrap it up. Your younger disciples are starting to suffer spiritual and lifespan damage from maintaining the circle," Orison said darkly.


    The man sharply barked, "Do not do as this entity says. The weakness you feel is trickery. Fight it and your will shall be keener, your spirit stronger."


    Targeting the younger ones, Orison gathered up debt and threw it at them with the unspoken command to sleep. Without exception, every disciple targeted collapsed into unconsciousness on the spot.


    With half of his people shaped soul batteries out of commission, the man removed a ceremonial dagger from an inside pocket of his ratty leather vest and slammed it into the asphalt, chipping the blade. "I command you to obey. Stay in the circle peacefully."


    A force akin to a bullwhip crack raised a seeping welt on the magician''s chest above the heart point as a force with the potency of a ten year old''s punch rippled through and dispersed within the first layer of Their inner space. Stunned more by surprise than inability to resist, They unintentionally complied for a moment. A sizable portion of the special essence unique to mortals was gifted to Orison as a reward for that compliance with a minute but steady trickle flowing in to reinforce it.


    Inwardly Orison chuckled and thought, "So, that''s how it works. It''s carrot and stick together. But damn, that''s a bitter pill to swallow. No wonder lesser devils and demons are so angry yet cooperative with summoners."


    The man bellowed, "Serve me!"


    "I will provide a service within my abilities up to what my moral integrity and personal pride will allow but I will not ''serve'' you," Orison said, last compromise and patience used up.


    The man geared up to push some other outrageous demand when a man dressed like an English gentleman, somewhere in his mid sixties, whacked the tattooed man on his bald head with a silver tipped cane. "Stop this inanity at once!"


    Orison smiled and said, "Oh my gawd! I''d recognize your soul signature and attitude no matter what form it wears."

 246 The Magician 4

    Another whip crack of force smacked against the tender welt on Orison''s chest, drawing a wince and a dribble of blood. The ghost form canceled and another rush of the mysterious essence of existence merged with the magician.


    Under everyone''s gawking eyes, Orison ran out of the circle and stared daggers at it before turning back to the old gentleman. "It''s not my fault that I was mistaken by this damn thing as whatever it was meant for!"


    The old gentleman was enraged, switching his dead, shark eyed gaze between the tattooed man and Orison. "Years worth of preparation and work ruined by a greedy subordinate and whatever you are. How will the two of you compensate me?"


    Eyes narrowing to menacing slits, the magician said, "I won''t hold a grudge... and that''s highly conditional on your ability to not act like you''re entitled to something from me when you''re clearly not."


    "All of you, subdue this trespasser," the old gentleman snapped crisply.


    "Sleep until your debt to me is exhausted," Orison snapped back.


    Every last one of the original group collapsed on the spot. Even the old man staggered for a couple of seconds while the magician summoned a phantom steed under Them. While the old man pulled a pistol from his coat, Orison flung two burning needles at his thickly veined hand. The old man dropped the gun and looked at Orison with a grimace while desperately resisting the urge to scream with pain from the cauterized punctures on his cradled appendage.


    "For a past life of regrettable actions against me that ended very poorly for you, I''ll give you one chance to back down. If you still show a pitiful lack of wisdom, I''ll kill you without mercy or regret," the magician said with an emotionless face.


    The old man said, "Tea time is at twelve sharp daily. When you doubtlessly find ill welcome everywhere you go, I''ll be waiting to negotiate terms for your residence."


    As They began riding away at an unhurried pace, Orison replied blandly, "Imagine the depths of my anticipation... Put up ''No Trespassing'' signs OUTSIDE the boundary. I lost a follower to the lower dimensions today because of that electrical contraption... and a nice car filled with commodities that this place could have benefited from."


    The old gentleman raised his voice slightly so that it carried clearly, "There''s no point to that. They''d be missing within days. You would think over three kilometers worth of emptiness would have been warning enough."


    Orison shouted back, "Touche."


    The old man chuckled through a hiss of pain.


    As soon as They were out of sight, the horse ramped up to top speed. Orison didn''t understand how a soul that was as inherently scheming and seemingly self serving as ''Granny Xia'' was, could still maintain a fairly neutral existence. However, They wanted as little to do with the old gentleman as possible. The decision to not kill the psychopathic person was less sentimentality and more the sense that there would have been severe and life threatening consequences for doing so.


    Upon seeing the first sign of people and communities, Orison canceled the horse. A couple of people rubbed their eyes, looking in the magician''s direction, but quickly shrugged off what they thought they saw. Much as it had been in the other dying world; supernatural powers, magic and ritual work were reserved for secret societies. The mundane populace was only dimly aware but clueless to its depths.


    The old gentleman''s evaluation of Orison''s welcome wasn''t exactly right but it wasn''t completely wrong either. People that They met along the way were polite but distant. A few that gave off weak signals of a supernatural nature watched the magician like a hawk but seemed content to let Them wander around as long as They didn''t get too close to residential areas.


    Eventually, that became a problem. Night would fall soon and the calling that Orison was sensing was IN an extensive residential area that was ran around with razor wire topped chain link for miles. They also had the manpower to guard it.


    Without knowing the nature of what was calling to Them, the magician wouldn''t recklessly charge in or risk being caught sneaking in. After milling through a bazaar type trading area for the different communities, They prepared a duffel bag full of random goodies and made Their way to an entrance gate. A woman behind a bulletproof ticket booth watched Orison''s approach as three armed men leveled weapons from hunter''s tree stands rigged to telephone poles.


    "State your business, young man," the woman said with a hint of kindness behind the frost.


    The magician gave a sad smile and said, "Looking for safe temporary residence while I figure out what to do next."


    She said, "Every single last soul in this place has developed an immunity to what''s going on out there. If you''re not sure you are, I''d suggest looking for shelter elsewhere."


    Unfocusing Their eyes, the magician responded, "Why do you think I''m looking for a safe place to stay... alone?"


    She gave a knee jerk sympathetic look before saying neutrally, "You''re young and healthy. That gives you some personal value but you''re not so young that you count in the leader''s ''Women and Children First'' initiative. We''re not as well off facility wise but we have plenty of room to move around and clean water that''s not reliant on plumbing and electricity."


    The message was made clearer with the unsubtle glances she was making at the duffel bag. They weren''t thieves but they expected someone who was interested in staying to give up some goods.


    Seeing Orison open up the duffel bag, she said, "Now, before you go whipping things out here in plain view, understand. What you''re offering doesn''t guarantee anything. It''s a gesture of goodwill. I''d say you have a good chance as long as your offering is sincere enough but I can''t make promises. Don''t give up anything you can''t live without if you''re not accepted."


    Orison made a show of removing a small photo album, an equally small lock box and some survival essential gear. Packing those away into a backpack, along with a few days'' food, They pushed the rest of the duffel bag to the booth door. Following directions, They stepped back to a yellow line drawn on the road and waited. One of the armed men came down to inspect the offering while the booth woman took inventory.


    As the man pulled out the offerings to be inventoried, his face grew ugly. Many of the items were things a single person would enjoy very much but not so much useful to an entire community. Or, at least, not things a person was likely to share with a whole community. That was, until he reached the bottom and found a tool box with lots of useful and uncommon tools.


    The ugliness vanished and the man looked at Orison. "Do you know how to use these?"


    The magician scratched Their head and said, "Yes, in theory. Underneath the toolbox are some schematics for switching mundane appliances into battery compatible. I could obviously only fit a couple small and one large folding solar panel into the duffel after the batteries but I''m sure more are available elsewhere."


    "Not every community has access to electricity and I miss..." The smiling man started a conversation that lasted until Orison was called in.


    After a boring and interrogative conversation with a rather unremarkable man that possessed a ''truth telling'' ability, the magician was provisionally accepted under the condition that Orison spend two days in the inoculation house. Confused, They were escorted to a dreary looking old manor house that looked like something from a horror movie. Under normal circumstances, They wouldn''t have gone so meekly and peacefully but it turned out that the house was where the calling was coming from.


    One of the guards said with a somewhat guilty face, "We know that you said you were immune but sometimes a person can still get sick a second time. Every time there''s a round, the plague seems to adapt and change but being inoculated against the original strain will immunize you to the rest.


    "Our group makes our way by doing resource runs once a month into infected areas on the other side of this town, closer to the big city. We can''t risk someone coming back with an adapted version. I-I know what that sounds like. There''s people that survived one version but not the original. I''m sorry but... you''re young and beat a strain, I''m sure you''ll be just fine."


    The man didn''t look overly convinced. And despite the survival rates shown, Orison was under the suspicion that less than half that number survived exposure to the ''parent'' version. It didn''t matter to the magician. More than anything, They were curious as to how the community was so sure that the inoculation house held the original strain.


    Unable to resist, They asked, "So, this place has the ground zero strain? How do you know that?"


    The man shrugged. "The leader brought it back on his last friends and family search trip about a year ago. Oh, don''t open the source box. If you do, someone will be scraping you up for sure. Even people who survived the house will get sick and have to be isolated for awhile after doing that. You get exposed to too much and it will overcome immunity."


    In front of the spooky house was a large clear plastic and tarp pavilion.


    The guard said, "After you spend two days inside, you need to spend another couple in there. Someone will come to spray you off. Since it''s nice out, I''d suggest leaving whatever belongings won''t survive getting washed, in that bin over there.


    "I know it''s hard to trust a stranger''s word but we''re big on cracking theft around here... This is an awkward question but... Do you have any particular person or groups of people you want your possessions to pass onto if..."


    Orison chuckled as They placed the backpack into the bin. "Give it to hardship or whatever you have that passes for it."


    The guard clarified, "You want us to pass your belongings on to the worst off? Alright... Just sign this here after I write that out... After you''re inside, you only need to spend two hours of the first day in the basement. There''s motion sensor lights that''ll go off as you walk around. Since you''re going in at night, you can leave to the tent house after noon the day after tomorrow. If we don''t see you come out by sundown..."


    The magician walked in without a moment''s hesitation. To keep from seeming too eager, They walked around the house for awhile.


    Laughing, Orison muttered, "I keep expecting to see famous sixties monster family sitcom actors to pop out and surprise me."


    Once night fell in earnest, They turned on a battery powered lantern and headed down into the basement. Fully furnished, They absentmindedly noted how nice the house would have been in its prime as They went to a large, rectangular box in the back corner. It was no real surprise to Them that the ''source box'' for plague was what drew the magician there.


    With a few preparations and an exercise of weak telekinetic power, Orison opened the box. The alarm inside didn''t even have a chance to chirp before it was broken by a burning needle. After making sure there weren''t anymore security surprises, They inspected the contents.


    Resting inside of a two person makeshift coffin was two corpses that had been partially exposed to the elements for awhile. It smelled atrocious and was a grim sight even for the magician''s slightly jaded eyes. Fishing out the items with supernatural qualities from the box coffin, They quickly closed it back up and used a couple Presto casts to clean themselves and the immediate air.


    Done with that, the magician took Their findings to the other side of the basement and spent a moment to mourn the fate of the two dead people. A man with strange ear cartilage rested beside a pregnant female within. With contextual clues from the items inside and Spirit Sight, a fog lifted off a portion of lost memory to reveal some limited interactions with a little girl called Harley Monroe and a rabbit eared man called Theo.


    Neither of them seemed to be special people to the magician but they were people Orison knew and thought positively of. Considering how little remained of the past within Their mind, such a revelation was a bittersweet kind of blessing. To know that Theo and Harley''s fate had been so bleak, that was nothing but bitterness.


    As to what caused it, the magician looked at the partially cracked open capsule sticking itself to Theo''s Osomo spark. They felt like They should know something about it beyond what the items were and did but it was shrouded deep within the swirl of shadowed memory. The same applied to an orb the size of a tennis ball that looked like it was made out of lead.


    More so for the orb, in fact. The magician felt that the orb was something intimately familiar. It would be the next item focused on after the wooden stationary box with sketches in them.


    As Orison looked over the drawings, They felt like They were watching the evolution of Harley in reverse. Beautiful oil and pastel pictures regressed to stark, realistic coal and graphite. Surreal and warped color pencil drawing finally retraced the steps of her artistic journey to two highly detailed but unrefined crayon works. It was the last two that Spirit Sight latched onto.


    The first of the two was a disturbing scene of a cartoonish person in blue scrubs being shot multiple times and in the process of falling backwards. No sooner did Orison latch onto the spiritual trace left inside than a speck of soul stuff transferred from the page and into the Entanglement Key. Once there, it settled into one of the center cluster shadows, the most important feeling ones.


    Confused, They muttered, "Jay Cotton. He was Harley''s uncle, an orderly or maybe a nurse at a nursing home. I- I don''t remember anything else about him. Why would... He was someone''s fragment, a spiritual splinter living a different life."


    They felt distraught. "No, no, no. Without strength, the shadow will get overwritten by you. Please, whoever they were, it was one of my most important people. Please don''t make them disappear!"


    The key fed Orison''s distress through to the shadow. A confused but sympathetic emotion rolled back through. The spiritual remnant allowed itself to flow through the preexisting pattern rather than reshaping it. Some things had already changed and a few more would have to finish the process but the soul, far from recovered, had made a big compromise to suit the magician''s wishes. It was a soul easily moved to compassion.


    It took awhile for Them to get emotions back under control. The shadow in question had deep ties to all three of the personalities that had merged to create the current Orison. In spite of or maybe because of that, the shadow''s identity remained a mystery.


    The momentary scare made the magician hesitate on inspecting the second crayon picture and to pass the lead looking orb for the capsule attached to Theo''s spark. There didn''t seem to be a way to interact with the capsule directly. So They moved Their will into the spark. Predictably, the patterns and energy of the spark moved to ''fix'' the ''broken'' spark within Orison.


    A display popped up. "Inbound rewards packages are waiting to be added to your inventory. Please read invoice and accept."


    Orison mentally selected the big button macro because the invoice was blurred. The capsule on the table disappeared and there was a subtle disturbance of space around Them that the Entanglement Key stirred to nibble at. A lack of proper spark forced incoming capsules to open directly into the first layer of Orison''s space. They weren''t sure where all of it had come from but it became obvious really quick, that not all of it was good.


    It ended up not mattering. With massive quantities of stuff piling up in the chaotic space Orison couldn''t view directly, only feel, the desolate depths of Their soul pulled everything inside. Moving desperately to try to save some of the best things, They managed to push a few to the safer second layer but was dragged back into the ''Realm of Ruin'' once again.


    When the inevitable regurgitation came, Orison was spit back into material existence with a companion. Unfortunately, at that moment, They were too busy puking up gray sludge and expelling toxins from every conceivable opening in Their body while additional messages poured into Their mind from the spark. It would take a little time to process it all. But what little that registered as important first, prompted Orison to make some split second decisions.


    With mind still reeling from information overload, They softened the edges of Their pattern as a set of strong hands reached for them. Retreating into the depths of trance, they weathered the storm of a demented apple tree dryad''s spite additions to Their split of Osomo rewards and inheritance. Several hours later, They resurfaced.


    While a Draconos man held Their limp and decidedly feminine form, apologizing mournfully, Orison ran a round of healing and Prestos. "There''s nothing to apologize for. A mentally ill dryad used her citizen credits to give me some payback through you. We should both be thankful that we were reset, in a manner of speaking. First Family brainwashing should have been completely broken into uselessness by the recovering spiritual realm inside me."

 247 The Magician 5

    Orison sighed. "Both but it would be more accurate to say it was this life''s first time and it was a Dryad named Ezra that was being cruel."


    With a firm set of defined jaw, the Draconos man said, "Be that as it may, I''ll spend the rest of my life, if that what it takes, to make amends and take responsibility for anything that might come from this."


    The magician smiled weakly. "I appreciate the sentiment and it speaks well of you to some degree. But understand, there will be nothing to take responsibility for. I accepted a female form for your emotional benefit but in around a week''s time, I intent to replace this one with the one I am most comfortable in. That form is male. "Please understand. I''m not ashamed of being in a female form. It''s simply a sad truth of reality that being male is easier and less... worrisome."


    Extending a hand, They said, "I''m Orison."


    Reeling in an information overload of their own, the man took the magician''s into his noticeably larger one and said numbly, "Arazmus. A ple- Nice to meet you... Argh... What do you even say to someone you..."


    Logic brain cells catching up with emotion and hormone processing ones, Arazmus exclaimed, "Orison!? THE Orison or one of his descendants?"


    The magician smirked as They walked to a dusty mirror to check Themselves over, mildly curious. "Yes to both. It''s complicated. Oh... For some reason I feel like I should know you.


    In the reflection, They absentmindedly noticed Arazmus having a hard time keeping his eyes from roaming as the man said, "You or your, uh, ancestor helped me save my daughter. I''m Emris'' older brother."


    Orison had a moment of epiphany. "I remember some now! I... I asked you about a... decidedly unwholesome place you''d probably not like to think about... Sorry. I lost almost all of my memories of people and events after an entity erased the world I was on and everything on it."


    Arazmus was about to answer when he fell to the floor writhing senselessly in pain. The magician did what They could to ease it. But after seeing what was happening, there wasn''t a whole lot that They could do without limiting the benefits of what was happening. A spiritual bloodline was awakening in the Draconos man and Orison knew where it came from. Within Sprit Sight, they watched the shadow of a dragon expand out behind Arazmus as the man''s horns and tail withdrew inside.


    As dawn approached, the dragon blooded man straightened up while the magician helped him stand. For some mysterious reason, a single tear tracked down Arazmus'' cheek before he squared up his resolve. In a surprise move, he drew Orison into his arms.


    Confused, intimidated and a little scared of the man''s intensity, Orison said, "Well, I''m understanding very little. Could you stop squeezing the stuffing out of me long enough to explain?"


    Orison was vaguely aware that Draconos leaned towards the aggressive side of assertive personality types. Unlike others of the same bent, they tended to appreciate and admire those who were even tempered. And though they were naturally talented warriors, they also shared the sporadic gift for the occasional talented mage. This was especially true for the royal line that Arazmus was a part of.


    Letting go reluctantly, the dragon blooded man stepped back once more and said, "Of course... It might be somewhat easier to stay focused on that task if we were... clothed."


    The magician chuckled nervously while They supplied shorts and a tank top for them both. "I''ll have better for us both after I''ve had a chance to reevaluate my resource situation. Mind explaining while I do that? It might look like I''m not paying attention but I am...


    "Things happened so fast that I was mentally playing catch up. I was a little taken with how close in likeness I was to my previous life as a woman. I guess it makes some sense when I think about it."


    Arazmus nodded and said, "Your father...grandfather, he left a trace of his spiritual bloodline inside of you. Well, the mother you. That passed on to the child you, along with hers and your own small dormant amounts. For reasons I can''t clearly understand, that all passed to me when I... held you."


    Looking absentminded, Orison replied, "My soul rejects spiritual bloodlines it can''t absorb. They interfere with its own unique abilities."


    The dragon blooded man, paused in sudden understanding. "I was a compatible host for it. I see. That knowledge does not decrease my gratitude or my sorrows at your sacrifice that brought such a gift to me.


    "What you may not know is that this bloodline carries some of a person''s memories and experiences within it, not unlike the soul''s matter does. Your portion was a passive sharing but Rithus'' was a more directed and purposeful one. I think he had intended it for your, uh, current father.


    "Confusingly, that also ended up being you... He desired to have a close relationship with you and your future heirs. His plans were temporarily thwarted by your...choices. Should the day come that a union between us bears a future life, I will pass it on to them, as much as I can."


    Orison said, "If that day comes, it won''t be anytime soon. The memories of giving birth to myself were filled with pain, terror and very little catharsis. If I didn''t have the ability to deep trance, my memories of what transpired last night would be pretty much the same."


    Arazmus frowned in guilt ridden misery. "On matters of inheritance, I''ll leave that decision entirely in your hands-"


    The magician interrupted, "Don''t make a declaration you don''t know if you can keep or not. You shouldn''t concern yourself overly much with the future either. We''re little more than strangers. Also, please stop talking in half-*ssed high speech.


    "You were a guild leader before you were royalty. I don''t know how long it... Hey, I''m starting to remember a little more... Long story short, you don''t have to act fancy around me. That is, you do remember how you talked to me in Indigo, right?"


    Arazmus blinked a few times and said, "Yeah. It''s just, I did spend a long time acting the part of noble and you weren''t a lady I threw down and had my way with then, either. I don''t really know how I should act around you, much less how I WANT to. I''m not sure I have the right to WANT anything right now."


    Orison rolled Their eyes and waved a hand in figure-eights. "Here, I waved my invisible forgiveness wand over you. Now all that''s left is your own self generated guilt. In a week, maybe less, I''ll be a real boy again and a lot of your confusion over this episode will fly away along with your interest."


    The man flopped down into a slightly dusty cushioned chair and said, "Maybe you''re right about the confusion but you''re wrong about the interest. You see, I know all of that will still be inside of you. If I can win you over, I know you can give me all that back.


    "I don''t know if I CAN win you over but I already gave my word. We ARE practically strangers but I don''t even have to think twice if I like you or not. You already know why that is. I know love, real love, takes time.


    "For the time being, you might not have my heart completely in your hands yet but my balls are. Squeeze hard or gentle as it suits you. Besides, you probably don''t remember but you asked Osomo for a protector. She sent me."


    He started ticking off fingers. "You restored my family''s nobility. You saved my daughter from a lifetime of misery. You pulled my *ss from the afterlife. You gave me an ancestral bloodline that my race has long lost. All I''ve done for you is wrong you after so many things have already gone wrong for you.


    "Like I said. I''m your man... for life. I''m already convinced I want you, maybe for life. Either way, at the risk of damaging your view of me, you already have my loyalty and service. I''m hoping that one day, the sooner the better, you''ll want my d*ck and its services too."


    Orison was knocked out of rummaging through Their space by the involuntary chuckle the sudden crude declaration caused. "Well, I asked for real and you gave me real... It seems like you know my situation. I''m a free will supporter. As long as you don''t try to force your feelings on me, I won''t intentionally try to ghost you... Let''s pack this subject away for now. It''s business time.


    "Osomo was decommissioned. It seems my path crossing with an Osmos, an exploratory floating city, garnered the attention of another First Family branch. They gave me a randomized ten percent finders fee. For multidimensional pirates, they''re pretty honorable. They even gave some restitution to the royal families for service beyond the limitations of something called the Conqueror''s Treaties.


    "Your ancient, and I''m talking ancient, ancestors gained a good deal of appreciation from them. All living Draconos royals and their spouses received the legacy version, for subordinates, of their trainings and a voluntary offer of employment. You and I were granted only a touch better but we were slapped with a lot of crap too. The brainwashing, false information to hinder growth beyond a certain point and a few other unpleasant things were invalidated by my core spiritual realm.


    "I don''t know if you''ve noticed or understand the meaning yet but you''re in the mid-dimensions. You SHOULD look like a smoky outline of a person who could get blown away by a baby fart. The First Family''s understanding of Greater Existence is terrifying. Luckily, we are far from their main stomping ground. The only thing that really limits what atrocities that they or any other powerful group can perform is the repercussions of spiritual debt."


    After getting them both outfitted with acceptable protective equipment and weapons, Orison said, "This is just trash. No offense, but the very best that Osomo has to offer is still not meant to survive mid-dimension hopping. It''s not going to last through transitions. Regardless of what happens in the next few days, we won''t be staying here in this reality for long."


    Arazmus shrugged and said, "The sooner we get out of this plague infested basement, the better. I''m starting to get the sniffles."


    Embarrassed at Their lack of alertness, Orison blushed and hurriedly healed the dragon blooded man.


    "A little pink on the cheeks of that cold face of yours is one the prettiest things I think I''ve ever seen," Arazmus commented casually, not intending anything by it.


    Being thin skinned, the magician pretended not to hear as They checked out the orb. At first, it appeared to be a mundane boundary item or a dead and useless artifact. But when Orison did a final check by tossing it into the first layer of Their space, a weak signal of protest came from it.


    With a sigh, they moved it to the second layer to let it recuperate. Seeing it trying but failing to absorb some of the magic junk that would be destroyed in a few days anyway, They gave it a little spirit essence. The orb barely managed to choke down a ring before going dormant to digest. The magician gave it specific instructions on what not to touch and moved on.


    The magician picked up the last item. Harley''s crayon drawing of a nautilus shell. As they inspected it, there was a slightly hypnotic quality that drew Them in to inspect finer details. Vaguely, a girl''s face could be seen peering through tiny, almost microscopic windows in the gradient coloring. It was a feat that should have been impossible to do with a crayon, much less by a child.


    Under the magician''s eyes, it felt as if the smaller windows were getting bigger. What They mistook for an optical illusion became real very quickly. An ominous sense developed in Them but it was too late. Their visual senses, heightened by Spirit Sight, were pulled into a layer of the picture beyond the mundane visible.


    Assaulted by a kaleidoscope of multicolored shapes, Orison''s physical mind was stunned. Their will and intent moved to resist but it only drew them down into the spiraling tunnel faster. For a nauseatingly dizzy moment, They peered at an uncountable number of girls and women that were peering back at the magician.


    They felt exposed and vulnerable. All the brightest and darkest parts of Themselves were exposed under the multitude of scrutiny. A hellish cacophony of noise erupted from them until two distinct words reverberated to Their very core where the desolate realm remained oddly quiet. On was ''Approved'' and the other was ''Denied''. It was indistinguishable to Orison but the approvals won by the slightest of margins.


    A torrent of spirit essence poured from all the windows as they emptied one by one. There was a feeling of dissonance between all the different types that was resolved in ways that the magician couldn''t understand. But as the bits of spirit essence merged within the Entanglement Key, flecks of discarded essence was drawn into the passive gravity of Orison''s desolate inner spiritual domain.


    Locked out of seeing into Their own conduit, Orison despaired at the fate of the shadows within. It wasn''t just soul that was condensing within the key but also power of existence and the shadows had next to none. From the magician''s understanding, that equaled invalidation by the powerful force coming into existence within the strange key shaped conduit.


    Where Orison and Arazmus stood, time slowed til its movement could no longer be measured. Within the magician, it had sped up to nearly unraveling the inner space. Centuries passed within but They had been protected from the ravages of its passing by the aura of the soul core''s strange spiritual realm which rejected interference of any but its own mysterious gravity of law.


    A woman''s psychic voice seeped through the key like molasses. "What comes next might cause you some pain. The missing ones, they will be safe though you will be separated from them by a great divide. Do not give in to the difficulties of your future struggles and you may reunite one day.


    "The key''s special properties were both our need and gift to you for involving you in our dilemma. What we give you now is both gift and apology for the suffering we have caused you... Keep your heart alive so that we may welcome you one day.


    "Know that every moment we have with those who bring us joy is no less assured than a mortal''s. It''s difficult for climbers to find inner balance. My answer was to hold on but grip loosely. Maybe yours will be different but we hope you can find it."


    Orison wanted to respond but all the power of Their consciousness found itself devoted to a single purpose, to witness the flashing branches of possibility. They marked the ones of interest and dropped the dark ones. It was terrifying to realize just how many lead to dead ends within little more than days. More frightening still, were the chances of the magician choosing one of them.


    A presence observed from behind Them, marking and dismissing in tandem. In the spiritual surroundings, a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors began building. Starting dull and shadowed, it became brighter and more intense rapidly. At the edge of what began feeling dangerous, the entity withdrew its power and Orison was ejected back to physical awareness.


    Afraid that if They looked within the Entanglement Key, They''d lose too much time in dwelling on what was undoubtedly lost, Orison busied themselves with preparation and said, "Arazmus, things are about to go from sitting to breakneck for awhile. I hope you''re not tired."


    He gave a response of being ready for anything that rang a little hollow. He was fatigued and one of the reasons why made him feel too much guilt to be honest about it. Orison evaluated the course and gave up a couple of opportunities to ensure there was a rest stop soon. It was an undeniable fact to the magician after what They witnessed. The dragon blooded man was a blessing that followed the humiliating disaster he had brought with him.


    "You''ve got fifteen minutes til we leave. If there''s anything you want to do or say that can''t wait for a few hours of game time, get them done," the magician prompted.


    Arazmus smiled weakly and said, "Something I can eat while I run through my paces? I need to know what I can still do if it''s about to be game time."


    He was handed a pellet and a glass of water.


    Ten minutes and a disturbing lack of anything but martial prowess later, Arazmus looked at Orison bitterly. "I''ve become one of The Children."


    "No you haven''t but the holes between concepts and mid-dimension rudeness is a little too much right now... You''re biggest problem isn''t ability, however, it''s power source. We''ll fix that... Put on your best mean mug. Your first job is going to be bug repellent bodyguard," Orison said with a razor blade smile.


    A torn scroll later, The magician and Their intimidating associate were standing outside of a courthouse turned walled fortress nearly a thousand miles from where they started.

 248 The Magician 6

    They handed the crystal ball over to Arazmus and said, "I always thought it was a little strange that the miasma that gave me the potential to climb didn''t give me two conduits when I was technically two different souls. It did. The conduit just happened to immediately go to someone else because I was only a soul in the back of someone else''s spiritual seat.


    "You might remember Gan vaguely. He was carrying it with him the whole time, being influenced by it, influencing me through it. Conduits are made to be used by others, not their maker. Well, my key''s a little different of a story but... Anyway, put it up to your head and tell me what you think?"


    The dragon blooded man put it up to his head and it disappeared. "I-I can see a map with all kinds of dots and symbols on it. What exactly am I seeing?"


    Orison smiled. "What I could if Spirit Sight was my only ability. A conduit can''t possess an ability beyond it''s maker at the time of its making, usually. But because its a condensing of an idea, it can display capabilities beyond the maker. The reason for that''s pretty obvious once you think about it."


    A little puzzled, Arazmus asked why.


    The magician said, "If you lose your sight, your other senses become keener. They didn''t magically become stronger. You just suddenly have freed up sensory input processing power in your brain and that''s how it gets used. How sensitive do you think your sense of touch could become if you lost hearing and sight?


    "That''s what a conduit is but it''s still meant to be used by others. It''s ability is a lure, a reason to want it. It''s main job is to siphon whatever a climber needs from others to aid the maker''s climb. As far as the map goes, it''s utility is far above usefulness at its main duty to the maker. It spent far too long with its maker and holder believing it to be something that it wasn''t."


    Before Orison put the key away, They brought out the orb and placed the ''hound and horse'' ring on it. Right before They sent the two items to their reincarnated owner, the magician noticed a wisp of spirit essence enter into the key from the hound side of the ring. For a brief moment They saw the mental picture of a man teaching them magic.


    They muttered, "Whoever you are, you were Gan''s son and your soul was once a spiritual existence called Nibbles. I wonder if that means Gan''s first son had a soul made from the horse. The more a person knows, the less they understand."


    Unlike with Jay Cotton''s spiritual remnant, the spiritual remnant of Nibbles naturally submitted to the shadow pattern it had joined. Instinctively, it knew the pattern to be a superior and preferable existence to itself. Orison still didn''t look inside the key. They didn''t feel ready to face that yet.


    They chuckled and replied, "You''re adapting to the map fast."


    "My original class had a similar feature but it wasn''t as clear or far reaching," he said.


    "I remembered asking Osomo for a tank paladin, by the way. I wonder how I got you," the magician said ruefully as They ripped another scroll.


    As they appeared in an elegant parlor, They took a seat at the table while Arazmus scanned the surrounding for threats.


    He whispered, "Now that I know the truth of Osomo, I can tell you why. Faith based classes were Osomo''s little darlings. She wasn''t able to show favoritism outright but they were all her treasures. And for the things she cared about, she was a stingy b*tch."


    They muttered back, "''She'' wasn''t much more than a magical supercomputer. Don''t over personify her. Still, I see your point. I''d almost bet that there''s a secret stash of spiritually inhabited eternium somewhere on that world that''s going to give birth to a real goddess-like world will now that Osomo''s been decommissioned. The First Family probably knows it and is going to be subtly extorting that world behind the scene for centuries to come."


    The old gentleman who bore the soul of Granny Xia came walking into the room behind five armed guards. "When I invited you for tea, I remember giving you a specific time. It also would have been polite for you to use the door like any respectful visitor."


    Orison sighed, "Haste makes for poor manners. Opportunity, however, rarely respects the conventions and etiquette of mortal men and women. At least, not the kind that I come bearing."


    The old gentleman let out a sigh of his own and said as he sat at the table''s head, "If the matter is so urgent, then allow me to be gracious enough to suspend pleasantries for practicality''s sake. Tea?"


    Orison smiled. "I wouldn''t dare... There is a floating city of powerful cosmic pirates trying to lock onto the coordinates of this world. They will succeed in less than four hours from now. I have a beacon that you can place at the world''s weakest entry spot. If you choose to do so before they find this world on their own, it will give you some consideration and reward."


    The old gentleman smirked. "Setting aside the absolute absurdity your claim would seem to be on its surface, why would you pass on this opportunity to me and not take it for yourself?"


    The magician said, "One person''s treasure is another''s trash. The opportunity is useful to you for two reasons. It holds no appeal to me at all.


    "Their rewards could make you a person of real power. It would also allow you a chance to claim up to a hundred people as part of your revenue, keeping them from being listed as claimable resources of the planet. As for why I''m giving it to you, there''s the simple surface reason I''ve already stated and a complicated one underneath. That one I''ll explain on the way, if you''re interested in not being cataloged along with other human ''resources''."


    The old man said, "How long does it take to reach our destination?"


    "Too long by foot or vehicle. Fortunately, I have a transport circle scroll that can take up to eight. I have a picture of the place and I''ll let you control the release of magic. Tell me, have you been to the pyramids of the Great Desert?" They said.


    Five minutes were wasted on logistics and other minor details the old man used as a fact check. Another five was wasted on an examination of the scroll.


    The old man was finally ready. "You ARE coming along, are you not?"


    "I wouldn''t if I didn''t have to but you won''t go unless I do, right? That''s a shame. Two more of your people could have benefited a bit more from all this if you were capable of extending just a little trust." Orison replied.


    The old man didn''t bother responding. As they all gathered around, the gentleman ripped the scroll. As a last minute twist, he latched onto another man behind him and wrested the magic off of Arazmus to cover the surprise sixth passenger. Looking bored, Orison used a touch of the key''s power to bring Arazmus along for the ride anyway.


    While everyone else was trying to catch their balance on the side of a wind whipped dune, Arazmus and the magician were standing on the exposed ''front porch'' of the pyramid they had teleported to. While waiting for the old gentleman and his people to compose themselves, They used a magic item to uncover the deeply buried entrance.


    Sourly, Orison said, "You just can''t help yourself, can you? Always looking to grasp just a little more, compromise someone else just a little more. How many years do you think you have left in this life? Adjust your programming or you''re going to end up a little b*tch demon in the next one. You''re soul''s already tipped the scale."


    The old gentleman stared at Them emotionlessly and said, "If you''re childish tirade is finished, mind leading onward?"


    They looked towards Arazmus and said, "Before it became out of vogue for sociopathy to be labeled as its own separate disorder, rather than a subset of psychopathy, this would have been its poster boy... grandpa."


    As the dragon blooded man studied the old gentleman, Xia''s current incarnations said blandly, "Charming... I sincerely hope you didn''t waste valuable magic and time only to drag me out to the desert in a pitiful and misguided attempt at self-righteousness."


    Orison adopted a snooty posh accent and said, "If only... Right this way, gentleman... heartless prune."


    The tattooed bald man, the old gentleman''s son, let out a snort he was unable to repress. A disturbingly sharp rap of silver tipped cane cut it short, however. The rest of the walk to a hidden chamber, requiring some desecration of the ancient historical site to reach, passed in silence.


    After explaining how to set up the beacon, Orison said, "Do you want to wait here for them or would you rather wait at your home. Things would be chaotic and it might take time for you to get your reward if you do but I don''t think it would be a huge problem."


    "Walk me through this again. Why aren''t you planting this yourself after having gone through so much trouble?" the old man said, hesitating to activate it.


    The magician shook his head. "I don''t care if you do it or not at this point. Just tell me if you plan on waiting here or going home after the beacon is set, if you do. It doesn''t have to be you. Anybody who places it will get the reward... You know what, now I don''t care about that either. Let the First Family take you back home."


    They started walking out. The old man calmly called out that he desired to return home. After designating two to stay and relay information to the ''cosmic pirates'', the old man activated the beacon. The remaining five acompanied the magician and Their companion to the heart of plague ground within the broken off chunk of boundary territory.


    "What foolishness is this?" the old man said.


    Orison was puzzled for a moment and said, "Oh, that''s right. You guys aren''t resistant enough to survive. Here, these are disease fighting medicinal pellets. They''ll keep you safe for four or five hours at least. Not that it''ll matter for much longer but you''ll build up a resistance to the diseases you''re exposed to during that time.


    "Good news for you two younger dudes over there. Don''t know if you''re sharing women or farm animals but syphilis is bad, mkay. Feel free to do your own thing now. Our business is concluded."


    Signaling to Arazmus, Orison began walking deeper into the large city. The magician suddenly found Themselves rooted to the spot, unable to move. A dully glowing circle descended and surrounded them. A decently powerful whip crack of mysterious ''existence essence'' slammed into heart point on Their chest.


    The old man called on powers both divine and infernal to force the magician into ''revealing his intents and purpose''. "I''m going to the museum to get an ancient grimoire."


    Although They hammed up the ''forced to speak against Their will'' aspect, the wince of pain didn''t have to be faked at all.


    "I''m interested to hear more on that but I was referring to your intents and purposes for what we just accomplished. Tell me the real reasons why you had me do it," the old gentleman ordered.


    Orison grimaced. "I don''t need or want anything the First Family would offer for that ''service''. To the best of my knowledge, you will."


    They thought to Themselves, "You just won''t want the negative things or the reprimand that will be served separately..."


    The magician added, "Let''s skip a part of what''s to come. You don''t have the power to demand my service. You can''t kill Arazmus but he can reliably kill everyone except you. And yes, I will lead you to the damn grimoire. I''ll even let you have it as long as you''ll let me talk to it for a few seconds first... Want me to swear against harming you when you release me or some such garbage?"


    The conversation devolved into a contest of wills until the old man was worn down to half a tank of reserves and nearly out of communally gathered existence essence. The whole time, Arazmus stood by Orison''s side and didn''t attack the subordinates who took a few test shots to validate that claim as well.


    With the dragon blooded man as an anchor, the magician could ghost and return to corporeal without the circle being able to stop it. Arazmus had a force deflecting field armor as well. Orison lamented that it wouldn''t be lasting much longer. It was a nice item.


    Eventually, the old man drew up a complicated document filled with legal jargon with something akin to transcribe magic that Orison burned as soon as it was in Their hands. "Last chance or I let off a magic nuke and be done with this annoyance. If I hadn''t built up a tolerance for your default unbending back bullsh*t, you''d already be a few scraps of wrinkled skin and a greasy smear by now."


    Arazmus gave Them a smoldering look and adjusted himself. Not letting the resting b*tch face falter for even a moment, Orison chuckled inwardly. They silently congratulated the dragon blooded man for paying the subconscious complement without ruining it by saying some cheesy and time inappropriate line. They were also reminded of some of the blessings and trainings that Ezra loaded into the dragon blooded man to ensure Orison suffered a little more while wasting a part of Arazmus'' future potential.


    What the crazy dryad couldn''t have known was that she only gave the man more confidence in areas he personally felt lacking in and all the ''trainings'' were next to garbage anyway. But there was potential hidden in the more mundane ones, even the ones she chose. Once the search for laws started, the ''life'' experiences, even artificially added ones, were far more important than the rest she was attempting to keep him from having the memory stores for.


    The magician mentally kicked Themselves for getting distracted. They were reminded again that Their ability to take the form of someone''s ideal partner wasn''t a toy to play with. It had serious repercussions due to slanting Them towards viewing and responding to everything about the other person in a slightly more positive light than They normally would. They mused that it was the logical balance out to the inherently manipulative nature of the ability.


    After They had sworn a reasonable oath that both they and the callous old man could be mutually satisfied with, the magician muttered to Arazmus, "I love what that touch of Draconos temper does for my argument skills. What am I anyway?"


    Arazmus said, "Hill Folk hybrid. There''s a touch of elf and my own people in their ancestry. They defy dominant trait theory like no other group of humans do and are considered some of the most broadly appealing people in all of Osomo... Everyone except for the old man is appreciating that at this very moment."


    There was a subtle growl in the last part that prompted Them to reply, "Let them. If one tries to touch me, feel free to turn that appendage into shredded pork."


    The bald and tattooed man said, "What about if you were going to fall or something? Can''t an honest man lend a helping hand?"


    Orison sneered. "I''m pretty sure there''s only one honest man here and I already have his help. If I''m in a situation he can''t handle, then if you want to step up with pure intentions, why not? Thing is, if that moment were to come, I''m pretty sure you''d be running or p*ssing yourself in the smallest hiding hole you could fit in."


    When the man in question was muttering guesses on the mileage of Their private parts and numerous potential ''smaller'' hiding holes, They had to check Arazmus to keep the man from pummeling ''baldy'' to death.


    Personal anger not having a restraining hand, Orison popped off to Arazmus without thinking, "He''s not entirely wrong. After having you as my first and the measure against all other men, I''m pretty much ruined for life on limp little weasel hung chumps like him."


    It was a mistake and the bald man''s impotent rage wasn''t worth the concerning brightness in the dragon blooded man''s eyes. They wished They could take it back. It was too much, made light of an unwholesome experience and more than a little misleading, considering Their current actual feelings about Arazmus.


    "Sorry, Raz. That was really not anyone''s business and I hate that I said it when I''d be furious if you did," Orison said, trying to do some damage control.


    Short of cursing at him, They realized that nothing would be removing the self satisfied and goofy grin that sprouted on the dragon blooded man''s face as he said, "No worries, uh... Riri."


    "No. Just, no. If you want to call me a nickname, stick with Sonny," Orison said bitterly, realizing that the pet name that They had began calling Arazmus during Their ''following the branches'' experience had only made matters worse.


    The man rolled that around on his tongue a few times before nodding to himself, still cheesing away.


    One of the younger men in the old gentleman''s group muttered to his friend, "Is that like calling a fat person slim?"


    Orison whipped around and stared through the young man, "That''s Sonny like in ''sonny boy'', not ''sunny day''."


    Confused at the explanation, the young man gestured at Their chest. They could only swallow down Their indignation at the unintentional chastisement.


    Lamely, They added, "I was the teenager you guys caught in your circle early yesterday."


    The baldy popped off, "If you had looked like that yesterday-"


    "Then you would have gotten yourself killed with your disrespect before I arrived. Indulging myself in a tryst with your mother was the single most egregious mistake I have ever made," the old gentleman said, ending all conversation.

 249 The Magician 7

    The look on Their face and a strong touch of weariness from all the unaccustomed exercise had softened the old gentleman from pushing his luck anymore as he reluctantly made to hand it over. "That''s not necessary. Nomy, I need to speak to your big partner. The outer god larva he got a taste of a couple centuries back or so is about to make another boo boo."


    The strong glamour surrounding the book slid away to reveal a wailing face. A sinister feeling pulse rippled out from it. The environment congealed as if reality was a setting jello mold when a dirty and crazy looking old man stepped through.


    "Finally ditched the kid, huh? Oh, looks like that wasn''t the only thing you lost along the way. Sometimes I''m a little unpredictable but hey, you made it this far," the unsavory hermit said before cackling in a completely unhinged way.


    He looked around and frowned. "I''m ten seconds too early. That''s nine and a half too soon. They''ll wiggle off the hook this time... Don''t feel too bad about it, kiddo. It wasn''t a bad try for your first attempt."


    Orison gave a saintly smile in slow motion as a tremor went through the world. Half a world away, a strong isolation field of a floating city slammed around a beacon. The crazy old man gave Them a wink before disappearing and reappearing nearly instantaneously. Much had happened in that split second but the magician felt a mass buildup of spiritual debt owed to them for a short moment before it was gone again.


    The crazy hermit cackled wildly and said, "Nicely played but you''re too much of an amateur. As a consolation prize- what!?"


    The hermit''s power of causality slid around the ''event'' Orison''s involvement couldn''t be removed from without making it fail. The only way that the hermit could feast on the entity was to give Orison Their fair dues. There was no dine and dash possible.


    Before the hermit''s craziness caused absolute rage filled negative consequences, Orison telepathically speed messaged, "I only want mine and my companions law comprehension and existence consolidated. Please be careful not to invalidate us completely."


    As a malevolent sneer began to surface on the hermit''s face, ''Nomy'' returned from their own feeding and began nagging incomprehensibly at the crazy old man.


    Orison projected, "Thanks Nomy. You''re the best!"


    The crazy old man''s eyes softened instantly. "Do you hear that? You''re the best! He hugged you and she called you the best! I think you have an admi- They did what?"


    "Let''s take this party to the Edges. I''m not so good on control and if I turn you to nothing there, I might be able to save you... Maybe. I''m pretty lazy."


    After that, there wasn''t much to remember. There was only a dim echo of barely recognizable feelings. It was a swirl of completely chaotic sensations as They were immersed in the raw maelstrom where everything and nothing met.


    There was a sense of existentially important decisions being made as casually as picking where to eat for dinner. Reckless waving displays of control over the fabric and structure of Greater Reality crashed and rolled over Them to see what would stick and what wouldn''t. Occasional scoopfuls of charged potential were slung at Them in an effort that seemed something between supernatural waterboarding and a jury rigging attempt to keep Them from completely disintegrating.


    The only thing that was even remotely clear was the hermit''s muttering conversation with himself before the magician woke up screaming silently. "That got boring a lot faster than I thought it would... Now where did I get them from again? Oh well. I''ll just send them to where... It''s not there anymore. Oh! There''s a remnant dot of that little guy I just ate still over there somewhere."


    With the last words of the hermit echoing through the sparse skeletal framework of Their shadowy pattern, Orison glanced around at the equally shadowy and ghostly surroundings. Nearby, a frozen tableau depicted the grizzly scene of a desperate life and death battle between an enormous black dragon and a wounded Norseman. Points of memory and intuition clicked.


    That wasn''t a Norseman. It was a Northlander named Bauldur of House Rettr. In truth, their fight had been over long ago. Neither had won. They both had perished but their souls were trapped.


    Seeing the potential opportunity, Orison attempted to reach out with feeble healing to the once foster father of ''the boy''. It wasn''t able to do anything other than give an outlet for the frozen scene to finally seep through. Aside from shunting Bauldur''s soul to the side. Orison actively accepted what They could take while directing the rest through Arazmus.


    The ghostly apparition of the Northlander saluted the magician before bounding off into the depths of whatever spiritual realm they were in. The departure of the man''s soul into the pearly mists beyond awoke the magician''s dazed mind to the current situation. A simple addition of a gratitude filled compliment towards the book had flung Them off the branching courses They had been shown in the kaleidoscope of possibilities.


    They didn''t know if it was possible to get back on track in any way but They were going to try. Picking up the insensible dragon blooded man, They began walking where the exit should be picking up strange bits of things along the way. Spiritual symbols of particular beloved items, filled with a lifetime of memories and attachments, filled in a little more of the existential holes within the two living travelers.


    Despite the sensation of walking and picking things up, such a journey was more metaphorical than real but there was the sense of one ever present danger. When one left the afterlife, after finding what they came for, they must never look back. And as They neared the exit, there where many distractions that attempted to get the magician to do just that.


    Some were very disturbing. At one point, Orison tripped and fell, dumping Arazmus to the ground and tumbling over the man. From that point forward, the magician had to pull the man to keep from looking back. And from time to time there would be a crunching sound, a muffled cry of agony or a shuddering jerk in the dragon blooded man''s frame. They half expected to see little but gnawed off strings of gore attached to the feet They pulled.


    Had They looked back, that imagined scenario would have become truth. But in making it to the end, the sacred rules of such a contest of underworld will and living soul were honored as they always had been. Never the less, a price must be paid for such a journey. The remaining shadows inside the key were taken in exchange.


    Even still, in forcing such an exchange, the underworld lost again as a rush of existence essence filled in the missing spaces, restoring hundreds of souls and reconnecting them to Greater Reality. To shore losses, The underworld will made a cold calculation. The two escaping and victorious souls were shunted into the brightest branch of the strongest reality it was connected to in an attempt to invalidate the already weakened and shadowy figures.


    As They staggered out of the dark bowels of a cave system, dragging Arazmus behind Them, Orison peered cautiously out of a cavern mouth into a lush garden. There was something familiar about it that made the magician shudder with dread. Seeing the powerful and complex ward formation on either side of the entrance to the cave that They had viewed for many years as a slave from the other side, the fearful suspicion was confirmed.


    Panic was about to set in, caused by one of the worst ''dead ends'' that the kaleidoscope experience had shown Them, when they saw a body floating face down in the garden''s spirit water pool nearby. As soon as They saw the young Northlander features and the unique assassin''s garb the memories of time spent on Amoril became just a little more clear.


    "Venito!? But he should be... Wait, the old hermit''s power is causality. It''s not technically time travel to arrive before Venito was captured by the Long Garden staff because there''s no breaking of causality," They said.


    Orison started trying to figure out how to use this opportunity to its best advantage. "If we''re in some kind of space outside conventional time and only bound by causality..."


    They checked the Entanglement Key. Except one old and one new pact shadow out on assignment, there were no more shadows to be seen. Reaching out, there was one of the ''important ones'' in the process of being reborn and a whole slew of others that were doing the same. Mixing in with Harley-Keita hadn''t completely derailed Their own goals.


    Pushing the bittersweet feeling aside, They began formulating a plan. After quickly checking on the unconscious Arazmus, Orison reached out with shaky and weak as hell telekinesis. They grabbed the 108th and only non-lethally poisonous samsara fruit. Normally, it would make 108 completely mundane versions of the eater that were spread throughout the lower-dimensions.


    Those copies were meant to be bound to nothing more than an ordinary fate with a maximum lifespan of 108 years. But with the Entanglement Key and whatever ''acausality'' funky resistance to the standards of cause and effect, the magician was about to create 108 hive minded individuals. Every one of them would be capable of taking the desired form of another and possess the comprehension granted powers of a tier four, seven steps into their climb.


    If that weren''t enough, they could be any ''when'' that collectively wouldn''t interfere with the rest of Greater Reality''s unbendable laws of cause and effect. 108 one shot, ''technically not'' time traveler demigod level existences were unleashed into the lower dimensions the moment Orison ate the fruit. Half of them were pulled to the magician''s side to rush out into the garden.


    Moments later, One unfathomably powerful being that guarded the stability of Greater Reality was a half a second away from erasing the hermit, insuring that such a thing could never happen. With a bored and careless wave of his hand, the hermit sent out his power to intuitively seek out and prevent the instance that would bring about his erasure. It was a fairly regular event for the insane man and a single swipe usually did the trick but it didn''t this time. With two tenths of a second left to go, he sent a concentrated, intuitively guided pulse of power while asking Nomy for help.


    The second time worked. A ripple that spread across thousands of realities, spanning the lower and mid-dimensions, caused subtle changes as a single event was undone. The event was so minor to the hermit, he wouldn''t think about such a thing unless someone asked him about it directly. After the second hand wave, no one ever would. He couldn''t be expected to remember something that didn''t happen.


    ***


    Al dropped his controller as he clutched onto the stuffed animal his ex-wife left and cried. Dust from the uncovered plushy puffed out from the sudden, forceful squeeze. Right as he felt a sneeze coming on, a soothing trickle of mysterious power flowed through him. Then, it was a torrent.


    The very structure of his physical pattern loosened to accommodate the influx of multiple essences. Even his soul was undergoing a drastic metamorphosis. The man was paralyzed in the grip of a metaphysical flash flood. Moments later, Al was only a part of a being he had been a part of for some time in another ''what if''.


    ***


    Orison sat stunned, holding a stuffed Cthulhu They''d never seen until memories of Al buying it for his wife overlapped the one of buying Nomy. The magician realized that they had messed up in a big way. It was beyond them to play loophole lawyer with cause and effect when They had no way to fix mistakes. Greed and desperation paired to turn a massive opportunity into a catastrophe.


    Within, other than a couple of fruits and a large splash of spirit water, that would turn into a crystal shortly, was viewable in the small second layer of Their space. Inside the Entanglement Key, a single confused pact shadow sought around for the one they were giving patronage to before floating off to find a new one. As Their pattern solidified back into an older teenage boy, They cast out with the power of the key to find the connection to Amoril.


    Several states away, a drunk young man''s corpse laid on the front drive from where he had fallen off the roof of his parents'' three story home, a clean rectangle of space next to his cracked open head. Drawing on the key''s power, They pulled Themselves to the rapidly dwindling line the fleeing entity had created and flung Themselves through it with a second use.


    The magician arrived in the astral plane-like shell that the outer god larva had abandoned before being shunted to Amoril. As if a film of super strong and stretchy cling wrap surrounded the lake house on the other side, Orison slowly slid away until They stood outside a barrier They couldn''t cross. When the key wouldn''t help them cross, They attempted to ghost and even void to get in but nothing worked.


    Discontent to wait until the early next morning when They knew people could enter, the magician used the key to see where the people who They were connected to where. In the entirety of Amoril, there was only one. Orison calmed the panic. It made sense. The boy and his new soul buddy hadn''t met anyone yet.


    "Who are you? I''d prefer not to fight at this time. So, I hope you''re not an enemy," a ''no nonsense'' man''s voice said.


    Orison looked and didn''t see anyone with mundane or Spirit Sight but They knew who the voice belonged to. "Why would I fight you, Zeke?"


    "I don''t believe I am who you think I am but many bizarre things can happen when manipulating the power I wield," a man who very much looked like Zeke said as he materialized.


    Orison shook Their head as They remembered certain details. "Sorry. You''re the boy''s father. I''m on your side, mostly."


    Eyebrow quirking, the man said, "I''m tempted to ask why only ''mostly'' but I''m well aware of how manipulative and controlling my actions would seem to an outsider. If you are an ally, I ask that you wait for this important time to be over before being about your business. The situation is delicate and it''s my last chance before the back up plan is used."


    The magician took a moment to order thoughts and asked, "Are they too delicate for me to get a slave kid away from a gold elf on Granite Falls island? Better yet, can I eradicate the Domain presence on that island?"


    The man who looked like Zeke said, "Hold on for a few minutes."


    He went to the edge of the time manipulation dome surrounding the lake house and its vicinity. Within, the passage of time ran deep into the night until the next day. After reviewing, the man rewound it tinkered with a couple of subtle placement of items inside the house and began again. Three minutes and a little tight around the eyes later, he returned.


    He said, "I''m going to have to let Piran accidentally consume this one. He''s power hungry and trying to devour my son... There shouldn''t be any problems with doing anything on this world. It''s the last time I plan on using it. Wait for three hours after morning and do as you will."


    A little hesitant to get too involved, Orison asked, "Is Lithus going to be saved?"


    The man sighed and said, "If you want her spared, I''ll bring her to you. I have to kill her master myself anyway."


    The man walked into the barrier and returned a few seconds later with a confused Marshlander woman in tow. "If you''re moved for her plight, please wait until three hours after dawn. Morrel doesn''t kill himself until noon."


    Orison nodded. "Are there any potential conflict of interests on Osomo, the dying earth or-"


    The man interjected. "I don''t need any of the worlds reachable by the astral bridge. Do you need the bridge for travel?"


    "No," the magician said.


    Oddly the man didn''t go anywhere and after some explanation, it was clear why. There was a possibility of someone among the monks to notice Orison''s existence and investigate.


    To whittle away the time, Orison entered into a conversation with Lithus and explained some of the things that were most likely to occur in her near future. The idea proposed by Orison to enter into Takris'' deep marsh family again was received overwhelmingly well by her. She wasn''t a strong willed person with any particular desire for her life.


    To Orison''s surprise, They found out she wasn''t pregnant and that her father was dead. The name didn''t matter to the magician because it wasn''t Rithus but that man was the father of the young Marshlander who originally knocked Lithus up. Apparently, the crazy elf cultist either decided to keep a virgin sacrifice on hand or actually managed some squeamishness of breeding siblings after line breeding two generations. Marshlanders were fairly resistant to the ill effects of inbreeding but not THAT resistant.

 250 The Magician 8

    It was heart wrenching but They endured interrupting Droya in the middle of a full emotional crisis due to the ''biological father'' picking up his son. They doubted things were that simple with the spiritual host of Piran being the initial proactive one but it didn''t matter. They shoved a small bag of gold at the woman and asked if she would be interested in being a governess.


    "I can''t make such a weighty decision until my husband returns," Droya said.


    Orison replied. "Well, Lithus and her grandfather need a place to stay for a couple of days. Worst case, I doubt your husband would mind you having the company of an old wood elf and a kind hearted little lady for a bit of company."


    The magician''s nose soured at her sad smile as she said. "Yes. I suppose that would be fine. I know Morrel and owe him a debt of gratitude a few years overdue at any rate."


    They handed a note to Morrel. "In case anything strange should happen and I don''t return, this is the name and place where a Deep Marshlander named Takris stays. He doesn''t know me but I can vouch that his interest and care for your daughter will be genuine should they be introduced."


    Morrel frowned. "A stranger vouching for a stranger on a ''maybe'' from the other side of the map is highly suspect."


    Orison said, "There''s no doubts there but it''s true all the same. We can talk more in a couple of days hopefully."


    "Gratitude for your assistance and respect of your magical prowess buy you that much, young man," the wood elf said.


    After saying Their temporary goodbyes, the magician swung through a part of the field to pick some more lavender and make a quick circle focus ring before heading to Granite Falls for mass slumber and slaughter. They didn''t stop there, however. They knocked out two more islands and broke the Domain teleport relay, isolating the Obsidian Island chain from Summerland.


    The magician was in awe at how easy and strong the magic They could use was and how little it took from Them. Climbing at a break neck pace, there was never any real time to think about what returning to the beginning would do for Their prowess. They also noted that accumulating spiritual debt was a lot easier if care wasn''t taken. Reaching a certain level of power was an indicator it was time to move on or remove one''s self from worldly affairs, apparently.


    Keeping ahead of her, They passed the sea agricultural plan and a movement to allow the Northlanders to act as intermediaries for Centerland goods. After showing the three Domain villa commandants'' heads, They endured a round of questioning. When it showed no signs of ending anytime soon, the magician cut them off.


    They said, "When it comes down to it, you are either interested in my proposal or you aren''t. I don''t care enough to banter and play games. If not, let''s stop talking and I''ll go collect the few Centerland soldiers I''m interested in and let you murder the rest, sandwiching yourself between two hostile forces. I promise you, I don''t care whether Summerland Domain believes you innocent of what I just did and I don''t care about Centerland in general.


    "I''m mildly friendly with Northland political stances but think their views on gender equality and rigid traditional stances on peoples private affairs are fairly abominable. I hate your politics but think your relaxed attitude towards personal freedoms are pretty admirable if you''d drop the superior race attitude that makes the Domain a steaming pile of fertilizer."


    Elder Liu said with a sneer, "Why not regal us with your opinion on the wood elves or the Marshlanders while you''re at it."


    Orison said, "I know jack all about the Vale. Marshlanders are insane pessimists but pretty good friends if you can manage to make them one. I know jack all about Redlanders and Highlanders too... Deliberate, I''ll come back in a bit."


    While the magician gave them time to stew, They snatched Lily and the foreign monk from the jaws of the Abyss and broke the gate. It was draining to open without the miasma fueling it and it was a touch dangerous to boot but half an hour later, The boat of refugees and two mummies were chilling in the secret cave.


    After giving some initial treatment and rummaging through the monk''s ring, They got her in a basic recovery state. "Hang tight, Lily. Keep an eye on this bunch of yahoos for me. I''ll keep the ring here, just in case. But don''t get into it if it''s not an emergency. That monk over there is resurrectable. I don''t particularly trust him but he doesn''t seem to be a complete turd either. No need to gank his stuff when he has so little that''s actually useful to you."


    "Thhhank yyyou," she rasped, a tear sliding down from a gem-like eye.


    Orison gave her a reassuring smile and said, "I''m going to trance for an hour, take care of some business and be right back, barring some unforeseen ridiculousness. Hang tight until then."


    The magician put the fateful wood carving on the monk''s chest and deep tranced for an hour. When they came out of it, child version Duran was clinging to Them, bawling his eyes out silently. Surprised by the kid waking from ritual sleep ahead of schedule, They returned the hug and and attempted to calm the kid down.


    "Hey there, Dur- Do you have a name?" They said, projecting as much compassionate calm as They were capable.


    Wiping the embarrassing evidence of his emotional display off with a sleeve, Duran said, "I remember, Orison. Maybe not everything but I remember... Sorry for...that. I''m still very confused inside."


    The magician looked at the boy in wonder and asked, "How?"


    The boy said sadly, "Wick ascended. They entered Medea and ascended. Let''s not talk about the rest. Not yet."


    Behind the boy''s eyes was a kind of tiredness that Orison could all too easily relate to. The answer as to why Duran was still ''entangled'' enough with Orison to show up on the key''s radar was answered, at least.


    Not bothering to hide Their own weariness, Orison said, "Then, let''s do what we can for old friends and then give ourselves a fresh start. Does that sound like a plan?"


    Duran nodded and then looked himself over. "I need momentum... Soul strengthening first and then... I know enough to pick up where I left off, mostly. But..."


    Orison saw the embarrassed and guilty look on Duran''s face and realized that he was talking about needing a massive amount of resources. Only Duran''s knowledge came back. Everything else was square one.


    They smiled. "Well, knowing where to start is half the struggle solved. I''ll help you work on the other half."


    Still emotionally unstable, Duran said, "While I still have the excuse of being... young, could we...?"


    Orison chuckled inwardly and hugged the boy a little while longer. They couldn''t imagine how rough it was to play catch up under the baggage of a couple centuries while having the mind and makeup of a child. Before, once he had recovered, Duran was never shy about stating and going after what he wanted and needed. It was a good quality to possess as far as the magician was concerned.


    After Duran had himself back under shaky stability, They asked on a plan functioning level about the boy''s old relationships and possible others that Orison might not know about. The general idea was that Duran had been kept so ran ragged by his and Wicks needs that he hadn''t had much time for connection building. The biggest change would be that he didn''t particularly want to go out of his way to involve himself with the phoenix lady.


    "Without Wick, we won''t work. And... she''ll hurt people. I think I''ll always care about her but I don''t want her to hurt someone. She''s... cruel to people she doesn''t care about," Duran explained reluctantly. "It''s not all her fault. She was raised badly. Her powers made her... wanted."


    Orison nodded. "I get the gist. We can help but keep an emotional distance."


    With a little more discussion about exactly what that plan was, the magician prepared to start enacting it.


    ***


    "Young Orison, your plan is the height of idealistic folly. No country or kingdom would stand for the establishment of an independent power. An academy of any kind represents that whether its intentions are benevolent or not," Granny Xia said.


    Orison looked at Master Kretch, appealing for support. The old man stood stock still and silent, enjoying Their predicament.


    Forging on, They said, "It''s primarily an educational institute for mundane knowledge. Magic courses will only be taught up to Journeyman level. There are severe shortages of health care and engineering professionals worldwide. This would be a huge step in mending some of the foundational cracks within Amoril''s balance and future stability.


    "The ancestors of all the elven nations were first and foremost architects. For too long have the powers of magic been made into tools of murder and destruction without balance. One day, those powers will undergo a dramatic change and if the very basis of their creation isn''t explored and solidified now, the art will dwindle and die in the future.


    "Fact of the matter is, I don''t NEED to include you. I simply want to. All I want from you is a couple of representatives from among your people to show support of the idea. Leave whether or not it''s possible to me. How about that one girl, the one with the big birthmark on her face? She has Xia blood but isn''t particularly valuable for her bloodline strengthening capabilities. Assuming her mind is sound and she''s willing, what would you really lose on such a low cost gamble?"


    During the following week of negotiations, Orison handled some other business as well. After a particularly rough self introduction to Nub where the magician gamboled around, dodging Nub''s alternate attempts to kill or eat Them, the two finally sat dawn to discuss. The vampire was stunned to near momentary mindlessness by the information in the journal before him.


    "Why would you give something like this to me? I would believe it to be an elaborate hoax if I couldn''t verify some of the content myself," the vampire said.


    Orison chuckled and then settled into a somber mood. "Suspend your disbelief and hear me out. In another, alternate flow of events, you were a good friend who helped me above and beyond. We labored under the idea that we would become family through marriage. In this flow of events, that''s no longer a possibility at all but my memories and feelings of friendship towards you haven''t disappeared with it.


    "Among them is a regret. As much as you helped me, I wasn''t there to help you when you needed it most. To be fair, you never asked me to or even told me of upcoming struggles you''d be undergoing. But, since when did feelings need the burden of logic?"


    They shared their vision of the academy and Nub''s potential place within it.


    "Blood Bank and Hematology division? Transfusions and mundane testing of blood born pathogens? There''s quite a few terms I don''t even know the meaning of and you want me to be in charge of teaching it!?" the vampire said.


    Orison explained, "It''s an emerging field situation. You teach what you learn and another will pick up where you leave off. I can only give so much. There are rules...


    "What you would be working towards is a way for vampires to be able to re-embrace portions of real lives. They may never be able to fully step out of the shadows but they could erect a masquerade. It might be a strange thing to consider but imagine moving away from the need to ''hunt and gather''. It''s a possibility of mass food stores that don''t require death instead of a long life of predation."


    Nub smirked, "And all the while we slave in the background to save lives, prevent the spread of disease."


    "Since when would a large population of longer living and healthy people be a bad thing for vampires?" Orison smirked right back.


    He responded, "When the world becomes too small for remote and secretive places, there are plenty of creatures that will suffer."


    Rolling it through Their mind, They said, "Assuming a world lives long enough, it will happen one day. Good thing there''s a possibility of getting on the track of being insiders. Give a little, take a little and evolve with the times. You''re speaking of things over a thousand years away or more.


    While that was percolating, Orison cleaned out the hidden jade tomb and found that the opening to a failing abyssal plane was absent. It gave Them some hope. It was far too early to tell if that meant what Orison wanted it to mean, however.


    What WAS present in the tomb, gave ample means to heal and recover the two climbers. They were careful not to reveal greed inducing things to either Lily or the shady monk, keeping it to personal concoctions of medicine. With little to interest the cultivator who had strayed far from his splay, the man left fairly quickly with empty words of flattery and gratitude. Lily, however, seemed keen on sticking around a little while longer.


    "Can you tell me a little about the sister you''re supposed to meet up with? Maybe I''ve ran into her. I know that''s highly unlikely but you never know unless you ask," Orison said with a smile.


    Still weak but no longer gruesome to behold, Lily said, "Looking to win over two pretty ladies instead of just one? You greedy little thing."


    The magician gave a bitter smile. "You tease but you know how the lower dimensions are. I''ve already saved you once before and had a bit of a school kid crush on you. At that time, I wasn''t even a climber yet. You kind of gave me a little leg up to get me started."


    Giving a bitter smile of her own, she said, "Oh, past tense, huh? Find out how old I am or something?"


    Orison shook Their head. "That wouldn''t matter to me. It''s just, a lot of time has passed since then and I''ve accumulated some pain I need to let go of. Someone told me to keep my heart alive and gave me the advice to hold on but with a loose grip. It''s a good piece of advice that I''m finding hard to put into practice."


    Lily sighed. "Don''t I know it! Hey, if my age doesn''t really bother you, would you mind helping me overwrite some... It''s... never mind."


    The magician said, "I''m up for some cuddles, if that''s what you want. And if it turns out that you aren''t ready for more than that, that''s fine too."


    It turned out that''s exactly what she wanted, some comfort to ease the loneliness without invoking memories of what she had endured. She wasn''t the only one. In no time, they were the center of a dog pile of children that Duran continued to pretend to be a part of.


    Orison could understand how such a thing remained appealing even after all that Lily, Duran and the rest of the kids had been through. There was something healing about physical closeness that lacked the fire but kept the warmth. That was especially true for Duran.


    The poor guy gave off the vibes of a loner. But in truth, he feared loneliness more than death. Without Wick to provide him with a source of constant companionship, the magician wondered how Duran would cope. They thought that the boy didn''t put off a level of unhealthy codependency, at least. It did make Them curious about how long he had spent alone before things unraveled.


    The magician indulged in the comfort for awhile before moving along to other things. A few days of raiding ruins and the secret hellish experiment facility of Avenar and Orison was hemorrhaging out a small mountain of wealth through the right channels to get Their plan off the ground. They also acquired an important approval from Centerland through a senatorial back channel.


    Once They had made a fourth check in to see how Droya was coming along, the magician finally made a return to one of the most unhappiest places They''d ever stayed. "Acting Captain Quintus, I''m in need of four of your men. I''ve also been given a pass you can use as a political shield. There''s no reason for your men to wait here with improper supplies and insufficient manpower."


    The grim man in question carried a little too much dirt on his soul but there was no denying his care for the men that weathered the hardships of the Obsidian Island consulate. Before he''d discuss anything, he extorted Orison into providing healing for his men once he discovered that the magician could. Once that was done, the man was ready to play ball.


    He said. "This is technically not legal. I COULD be court marshaled for accepting this order."


    Orison nodded. "You COULD take this ledger I''m giving you and secretly blackmail your way from a disgraced acting captain to an actual captain with commendations on your record. Don''t get greedy with it or you COULD also be assassinated."


    After giving a sloppy salute, the acting captain called Hefty, Mellow and the Tulius brothers. He didn''t stick around to satisfy his curiosity over the four men''s fates as he had a small lock box full of back payroll to distribute and a boat to prepare for. Figuring it was better for the four soldiers to be confused than informed and capable of raising objections, the magician teleported them to the Evergreen Academy''s future mountain wreathed lands to set up temporary accommodations.

 251 The Magician 9

    She felt that too much time burden had been added to her soul. And if she didn''t accomplish the rise, then she had to embrace the fall. She warned that there was a point when a climber''s soul, unable to properly release previous lives, would become rigid, metaphysically. In such a state, it could grow no more and the myriad methods of rebirth wouldn''t grant much beyond some extra useless time. If she succeeded, she wrote that she''d go to a nexus after releasing some emotional baggage.


    The post note read, "You''re so full of life and drive. Hold onto that as long as you can. For an old woman like me, it''s too much. If I make it to fifth tier, many things will change for me and I''ll be able to keep up with you! Stay strong, love Lily."


    Orison looked at Duran and said, "I don''t know what it takes to get to tier five, do you? I think I may have forgotten."


    The boy nodded. " A domain. It''s the field around them that tier fives use to bend law."


    A certain memory lit up. "Can tier three have something similar?"


    Duran nodded again. "Reborn tier fives usually carry some of their domain with them when they reincarnate and can express it when they are tier three. If they don''t become climbers again, it''ll disappear after a couple of reincarnations."


    Orison said excitedly, "Gan has one!... I was planning on setting him up with someone I knew that regretted how they had done things. Do you think I should change that?"


    Duran shrugged. "Depends if he was killed or chose to die. If it was the second one, he''ll never become tier four because his own soul wants to be renewed."


    "Are you having any luck with the soul conduit building exercise?" They asked after making an internal decision.


    The boy nodded. "And it''s good that you discovered this way. Half of the problem of becoming tier five is the long time it takes to get rid of foreign influences in the body and soul. Chrism never fully belongs to you. A conduit made of chrism isn''t bad but it can slow things down with accidental contamination."


    Orison shook Their head in disbelief. "Why do so many climbers go crazy over getting some if that''s the case? I''ve been told it''s almost impossible to become tier four without it. Well, outside of special bloodlines."


    Duran added, "Or powerful external help. I''ve heard it too... It''s true, that''s why. You''ve spent long periods of time exposed to the knowledge of the afterlife. You''ve learned things that usually only tier fives can. Spiritual bloodlines and friendly tier fives do what you''re doing.


    Orison sighed. "Spiritual debt. It all comes down to that... It''s just as well. My inner realm is more gluttonous than you and twice as picky."


    They ended the statement with a friendly fist tap to Duran''s shoulder. "I know your momentum building is going slow but do you have some room in your storage box for more magic items yet?"


    Duran nodded. "Yes. I''m recovering abilities too. If you''re ever in trouble, no matter where you are, you can call on me. I have you designated as my charge."


    "I almost ate your spiritual mark when you did that, by the way. I thought some random entity was trying to brand me at first," They grumbled.


    After a meal and some chit chat. Orison took a trance and got busy again. One heavily gold lubricated senatorial meeting later and They had enough of a support to get started on building Evergreen Academy in earnest. Apparently, the Emperor was fully supportive of the idea. Three severed Domain elf heads had helped.


    Once They had dropped off Patrick and some supplies, They were surprised to see Master Kretch already there. Not only that, but the old man latched onto Patrick like a withered leach. The old obsidian elf had instantly recognized something in the young Highlander that so many others had overlooked.


    Later in the day, the four Summerland elves that had chosen to follow Orison from the villa had joined the effort along with two enchanted golems attuned to Master Kretch and Patrick respectively. A run for materials and supplies later, the process of clearing work was ready to begin. Everything wasn''t smooth in Evergreen Valley, however.


    Hefty and Mellow had predictably found the only females in the valley and began affectionately harassing them, even the married one. With an apology and some material donations to the goat herders, They returned to the two malcontents. After an epic *ss chewing, They promised to take the two to an upper class establishment at the Centerland capitol if the goat herders or any other female who might show up in Evergreen had no complaints for a month.


    "Claudius, I''m leaving you in charge. Nooo, there''s no grounds for pushing it at your brother. Corvinus, I need you to come with me to Whiteriver. You are going to be the cushion between me and the legate. I also will need you as a consultant for my audience with Lord Whiteriver, when I get one," They said.


    Corvinus saluted crisply and said with a bright smile, "It will be an honor to serve as your aid, sir."


    Orison returned the smile and said, "Go pack an off duty outfit and toiletries. We won''t be in official mode the whole time we''re gone, after all."


    As Corvinus ran off at a double time, Claudius chuckled and said, "You better be glad Centurion Calix didn''t hear that."


    The magician snorted, "HE better be glad he didn''t hear it. If he pinches a single girl''s backside while I''m gone, I''m going to personally tie him to a pole and flail his off... That aside, I have something very important to discuss with you.


    "The Obsidian Elf fisher girl you are fond of is very early in a pregnancy. Wait!... Hear me out. It''s your brother''s but he wasn''t in his right mind at the time. She did it as a final kindness for him because she was moved by his suffering and grief."


    After a long pause, Claudius said sadly, "Then they should get married. My brother is an honorable man. He''ll do right by her."


    Orison said with a thoughtful frown, "Yes, he''ll make her very happy. Yes, he''ll stubbornly insist on doing the ''right thing'' if he finds out but he''ll be miserable and you know why. He hasn''t been happy since he stopped getting responses from his pen pal. And you know damn well that the things he was talking about in those letters weren''t things that he did with his childhood ''sweetheart''.


    "You love Yulian and she loves you. I gave her the money to go it alone if she wanted to but she insisted on telling YOU. Not your brother, you. For the same reasons that your brother would insist, she''ll ultimately choose him if he does. If you can bear to take her as your wife BEFORE you tell him, both you and your brother can avoid regrets."


    Claudius looked at Orison in shock. "But that''s... How could I... Wouldn''t it be wrong? And how do you know all this?"


    Orison let spirit shine through Their eyes for a moment. "I''m not psychic but there ARE things that I know from another ''what if'' that''s constantly moving further away from its original route. Do you still want her or is keeping a secret for a little while too much a price to pay for a better ending?


    "Yes, he''ll be mad but he''ll get over it once the two of you tell him how you feel. How the three of you decide to handle it from there isn''t that hard to manage. Just make sure the kid knows once she''s old enough to understand if there''s reason to keep it from her at all. That''s around seven, by the way. Not someone''s deathbed when she''s over thirty or something stupid like that."


    Seeing that the man was dithering and would eventually talk himself into a decision that would end up leaving both the brothers with regrets later in life, Orison said, "Here he comes. Oh, well. I guess he''ll eventually ask when he finds out and you''re still sitting on the fence. He''ll be miserably married to the person you love while you miserably watch from the shadows trying to convince yourself- That was fast!... You ready to go then, Centurion Corvinus?"


    The younger brother, who was still trotting up from quite a distance away shouted his agreement while trotting a little faster.


    Claudius, gripped in a moment of panic, Growled at a whisper, "Yes. Yes, I want her."


    Orison went to pat Claudius on the shoulder but the man flinched away.


    With a complicated look in his eyes between the magician and Corvinus, he said, "Be... careful out there, little brother. Powerful people can be cruel to little guys like us when they get bored of you."


    Orison frowned. "Your big brother''s advice is wise, Corvinus. Too bad he''s giving it to you for the wrong reasons."


    In a spreading dome of light, the magician and the younger Tulius brother disappeared from under the surly man''s nose.


    Walking towards Whiteriver Hall, Corvinus hesitantly asked, "What was that about? If you don''t mind me asking..."


    The magician sighed, "I pushed him a little too hard to make a decision for happiness over misplaced feelings towards traditional ideas of what a responsible man should do, even if it makes them suffer needlessly. I think it gave him the impression that I did it because I have some... personal designs on you."


    The Centurion stumbled and fell back into order while red faced.


    A few minutes later in a relatively empty stretch of road between the town and it''s lord''s hall, the man said in a quiet voice, "Do you... have personal designs on me?"


    Orison chuckled. "Not personal ones, no. I do want to make sure that everyone I take under my wing gets what they need and want within reason. That DOES take conscious design from time to time."


    The mixed look of relief and mild disappointment was amusing to Them. That amusement barely kept Them from throttling the legate on sight. It was completely gone and had turned to agitation at how the Whiteriver Centerland ambassador was trying to squeeze out benefits which turned into another public thrashing for the man.


    Orison thought, "Thank your lucky stars that killing you would be more trouble than it''s worth."


    As it turned out, a public brawl was like the magic password for a quick meeting with Lord Whiteriver. "When I heard that a boy barely pulled away from his mother''s milk jugs was trying to start an academy, I couldn''t believe my ears. Yet here you are, speaking diplomacy in the native language. Since you seem to be a fellow appreciator of directness, allow me to save us both some time.


    "I''m inclined to agree but I''d like to see some of the affection you poured out to the fat senators down south. The archmage of our fine country''s own academy also had a couple details over magical trainings. There was something in the missive about representatives that I''d be happy to hammer out quickly as well... depending on your gold colored affection.


    "And, please don''t reach for your belt. It would make for a fine joke but I just had the floors polished and I''d have to get angry. As a matter of pride, you see."


    Orison said, "I''d be happy to see you receive the same affection as the Emperor for the same twenty year stay before reevaluation. As for requests for representation, a decent scout to help us map out the unexplored regions and a solid, patient person with enough talent to cast mend would suffice. The second request would probably end up being a family person. I''ll shoulder all responsibilities for such."


    Gan was the first person that had came to the Lord''s mind for the first but it took some wrangling to swing Whiteriver around to Thorrinson. It seemed that the two were childhood friends and there was more than subtle hints of blood feud if something were to happen to ''Skunk Butt''. The man was also a little more wary of Orison as well. They had revealed a little too much insider detail to get who They wanted.


    Done with that, it was time for Gerrald to send the magician to speak with the archmage. Aside from a bit of monetary extortion from the old man that was in charge of the academy circle, there weren''t any major hangups to getting to the archmage''s office. The circle tender even managed to hold in his bladder while several apprentices helped remove the 250 gold coins pinning him to the wall.


    Never one to give initiative to another the old Northland archmage said, "Apologies for your welcome. I was under the impression that it would take some time for you to get past Lord Whiteriver''s planned chicanery."


    Orison said, "Nothing seems to entertain that man more than a Centerland Legate getting beaten down by a young person."


    The archmage frowned. "Well, this is an academic institution and I expect that your display of short temper will stop at the circle tender."


    The magician smirked. "The display of my presence at this institution will hopefully only be required once. I''m willing to break bread as equals but I will not tolerate disrespect. Especially when it''s orchestrated to test my bottom line. You are no different than me in that regard."


    The archmage outright sneered. "You think yourself the equal of an archmage!?CHILD, you have-"


    An overwhelming intent cut into the archmage''s spiritual seat and clasped his soul firmly. "No, I do not think myself the equal of a lowly archmage. I said I was willing to treat you as one but will not tolerate disrespect. Is the p*ssing contest completed or do I have to leave you stranded on the moon for a few months?"


    To his benefit, the old man remained calm in the face of superior force. "What are your goals in all of this? Why even bother going through so many obstacles if you are a god?"


    Orison''s intent loosened slightly in surprise but disjunctioned the nearly instant cast the archmage attempted to fling at Them. "In the difference of power between you and a god, I am only one of many. Humility grants the ability to see the world anew and can be turned into an opportunity for growth. Believe me. There''s plenty of things out there capable of doing to me what I''m doing to you in this moment and I never let myself forget that."


    They retracted Their intent as the archmage said, "I would appreciate an answer to the first question. No matter how powerful you or others may be, I have a responsibility to my king and country."


    The magician said, "I desire to build an academy whose responsibility is to the common good of ALL people, not a king or a country. You know, what the existing academies were intended but FAILED to be. That being said, no magic over journeyman level will be taught there.


    "Master magics don''t have a place where practical knowledge is taught. Outside of Earth Golem, no war class magics will be taught there either. Additionally, I didn''t want to have a single country academy affiliated person within it. But since Centerland will have a journeyman spy there as a part of the healer''s course, I''ll accept one from here too. I believe there''s a journeyman here that''s highly proficient with copy and transference magic?"


    The archmage said, "You know of Therridel? He''s quite capable of being a master any day."


    Orison nodded. "He''s also one of your secret disciples but has moved away from your disciplines. I want him because, if I must have a spy, I want one that will benefit the academy while they are there. He''s also an accomplished painter from what I hear. No place of learning is truly complete without a fine arts program."


    The archmage gave the magician a piercing gaze before throwing his hands up. "Fine! Take Theirridel. I''ve set up a package of general availability novice level spell books that are fairly standard for youths first starting. There are some seeds and a few starter shoots of plants useful to the healing arts, among other things... I''m not inclined to such generosity but the High King is and doesn''t want to seem any less broadminded than the Emperor.


    "How you managed to fall into a crack between too powerful to ignore but playing by the rules enough not to need to fight is beyond me. You still have the Highlanders to contend with over property and the Domain isn''t going to sit idly by. You''ve got your work cut out for you."


    Wrapping up the meeting, a few official documents issued by the two academies and kingdoms required Orison''s attention. Once done with that, They collected the High King''s gift and was on Their way. The new addition in tow was still in the throws of acting like a creepy super fan but They knew the real reason after having hashed it out with Therridel before. Even though the magician wasn''t responsible for his father''s death, Therridel was informed of their actions afterwards and that seemed to fill in the gap.


    As it was getting late once all was finalized back at Lord Whiteriver''s Hall, Orison decided to overnight at the town. The reason was more than just a desire to trance somewhere outside of a cave or pavilion tent. They had one very important stop to make. After getting Their retinue settled at the inn, Orison headed to Venito''s estate.

 252 The Magician 10

    The woman that They knew as Lyra was still a strong and capable woman but she was far from actress beautiful. She was a seasoned warrior in the late side of her peak. Scars, exposure to the elements and various other small factors had turned her into a rather masculine and almost thuggish appearing person.


    Orison respectfully introduced Themselves and requested to speak to the master of the house over the welfare of Droya, their recently announced deceased foster father''s widow. The master of the house was away but was expected back later that evening. She invited Them in to wait.


    "Rumors fly quickly. You''re quite the figure to see in our humble house. Many other important figures have come by for one reason or another but I was granted the impression they were sniffing around after the late man''s secrets and possible treasures. To see one stop by in concern of someone else''s well being, particularly the well being of a person most would like swept under the rug and forgotten, sits well with me," she said.


    Orison looked at her helplessly. "I don''t really know how to respond to that in a way that doesn''t make me look bad. Thank you for the appreciation of my efforts, I guess."


    The woman laughed heartily in what They could only assume was an effort to cover awkwardness. "During the handing down of a war leader title to his son, things can get ugly and House Riven made it as ugly as they could. Anymore than that, I should leave for... him... to talk about. I''d suggest having a generous amount of drink on hand. That''ll make things flow more smoothly.???


    They nodded and withdrew a keg of mead. Her eyes widened for a moment before she laughed again and jokingly suggested that the waiting time would be more pleasant with some drink as well. With a smile, Orison obliged.


    Two hours after nightfall, a strange young man with a familiar weak soul came shuffling in. "I have a small wound I need with, L-. Hey there. I wasn''t expecting guests."


    While Orison shared some niceties and provided services as a healer, They took the opportunity to examine the real young man that lied beneath the one They knew as Venito. He had been the victim of multiple subtle psychic and magical attacks. There was also a small amount of miasma curled up inside of them, waiting to paint them over in whatever form was needed for a scheme that the entity never used.


    The young man sighed while the woman formerly known as Lyra smirked over. "Is it something that''s going to cost me a small fortune to get cleared up at the temple? I knew better than to dip my wick in murky lamp oil but that farmer''s daughter was just so... friendly."


    The magician blinked a few times and then chuckled, more over the familiar devil may care attitude that made Them feel like They were seeing an old friend than the rogue antic itself. "No. I took care of that... What I''m referring to is the multiple spiritual assaults you''ve endured and a hidden threat inside you that I can turn into a blessing. Same for you on the last part, Band Marshal."


    "Now, hold on! No need for wariness. It''s all voluntary. That''s why I told you first instead of just doing something about it.


    "A powerful outsider made... adjustments over time. It laid a small amount of its core essence inside of you after that. The purpose was to have two pawns that it could change in different ways to suit its needs. For whatever reason, it didn''t end up using you but you''re still connected to it and that essence needs to be tied up into something to keep them from manipulating you in the future."


    Still wary, the young man who was once Venito said, "That won''t be necessary. I have a... friend I can rely on for matters supernatural."


    The magician smiled and said, "It''s possible that Portia could figure out how to unravel the purpose instilled into the essence. She''d more than likely trigger an uncontrolled release of it inside of you which would turn you into a nearly mindless, reality warping monster. Then again, I really don''t know how far her knowledge goes. "If she does have the ability to control it, enjoy your long existence as her loyal and devoted... monogamous lover. Outside of that, I doubt she''d do anything to harm you. From a certain view, that might be better for your future than letting you become the eternal gigolo, stealing the hearts of women across multiple worlds... The more I think about it, let her handle it."


    Both of them called out anxiously for Orison to wait as They got up in preparation to ask about a place to relieve Themselves, thinking that They were getting ready to leave.


    Resisting the urge to chuckle, the magician said, "Even if you didn''t want my help with that, I wasn''t done visiting yet. I just needed to ''visit'' the guest privy."


    When They rejoined the two, there was another visitor as well. A familiar monstrous little girl was looking the young man over with a frowning face. The band marshal was over to the side trying hard not to act nervous or scared around the the little girl that obviously made her uneasy.


    "I had been trying to find the right moment to reach out to you-peel away the insides. But it seems, we have grave matters to discuss first-touch what''s mine!? Where is this essence located?-strange lies."


    Rather than have a long discussion, Orison compressed some spirit essence and used their low dimension boosted telepathy to write a condensed memory into it before feeding it to Portia''s shade. It was a chaotic mess but the shade was a practiced soul eating entity and was skilled enough to be able to decipher it.


    Her eyes went blank for a small moment before she said, "You''ll need several years of practice before an ordered physical mind would not be damaged by that."


    Orison shrugged. "I don''t intend on making it a habit to sacrifice spirit to share knowledge that way. It''s useful but it''s a cultivator trick. Such things aren''t good to practice alongside magic. More importantly, do you understand?"


    Portia said, "Yes. Enough to know that I want you to do it while I watch. If you pull any foolishness in the process, I''ll kill you."


    The magician looked at the two and said, "Are you willing? You''ll be completely still you on the inside but you''d be giving up your current appearance. You''ll have a lot of memories of another you as well but they''ll be distant and grow more incomplete the further away they get from now into an alternate future that no longer exists."


    Bravely, the band marshal said. "I''ll go first. You can observe what it does to me and make decisions on whether it''s worth it then."


    The young man said, "Wait. Is she going to be beautiful?"


    Orison and the woman looked at the young man with similar faces of annoyed tolerance.


    The magician said, "The very goddess-like picture of a valkyrie in full glory."


    The young man said, "Can you fix her liking women?"


    Orison said menacingly, "Can I fix YOU liking women? She''s not broken. There''s nothing to FIX. Besides, the main point is to add benefits not take away or change anything."


    Portia looked at the young man darkly and said, "Exactly.-many things to make you more pleasing."


    They were glad that They were the only one who could hear Portia''s shade.


    As They walked up to the band martial, she clapped Orison''s shoulder and said with deeply emotional eyes, "Thank you... You know. You would make a beautiful woman yourself."


    With a bit of a sad smile, They said, "The both of you are incorrigible."


    Lyra had never become a climber or particularly supernatural in any way. When Orison tapped her with the Entanglement Key, They needed a place to tie up the excess miasma. They decided to push it into the stunted and lacking ''icy'' spirit root she already naturally possessed. It was something discovered by Venito far too late to nurture.


    She had a lot to digest, mentally. In the time that took, the young man looked Lyra over and made some comments Orison was glad the woman couldn''t hear. Unfortunately for the young man, Portia did and wasn''t pleased. The little ancient vampire lord wasn''t overly concerned about the young man''s current fun but no one liked the idea of future rivals for attention. The only thing that saved the magician from having to defend Lyra from a vampire on the edge of ending her was the knowledge of where the woman''s interests lied.


    As soon as Lyra opened her glacier blue eyes, she looked at Orison and said, "You should change into a woman and help me test out the equipment upstairs. We need to give Portia as detailed a review as possible."


    They sat in a chair and massaged Their temples. "You two harassment machines deserve each other."


    Looking confused, Lyra said, "You did it for me quite a few times. Why so shy about it now?"


    Orison sighed, "That wasn''t me. That was ''White''. And they were a part of ''the boy''. His real name is Piran, by the way. I was a part of him for awhile but he was never really a part of me. Well, Green was for a short few days. Long enough to screw up my self identity a little... Now, Green was all woman. You would have loved her."


    As Portia checked her over, enduring the dangerous envy coming from the little vampire lord and lewd evaluation of the young man, Lyra said, "Sounds complicated. I don''t care... If you want to have some fun, you know what the price is."


    For a brief second, Orison was tempted. Lyra was an expert lover when she was in the mood and indulging in some guilty please didn''t sound that bad but They didn''t have the time to be stuck as a woman for a week. It was a sad fact that They would be treated too differently by people and things could get unpredictable.


    Ruefully, Orison said, "I can''t even begin to describe how tempted I am but my body resists alteration from any other source save one and that would trap me as a woman for days. You have an idea of what I''m trying to do and how being a woman in this world makes things three times as hard."


    The young man said, "You can do that? If you had been a woman when I arrived, I know I''d be ''three times'' as hard but it makes me a little sick thinking that some girly man could be hiding as a woman out there."


    In a rare moment of empathy for Orison''s bitter expression, Lyra said, "Oh, you''ve probably bedded one or two. Learn the ''You are too F''ed to F'' line before you wake up in the arms of one."


    After some crude banter, Portia psychically interrogated Lyra.


    The little ancient vampire turned to Orison and said, "How is this possible? They aren''t fabrications. They are whole and complete memories added seamlessly onto their existing consciousness."


    The magician said, "Chrism is the ultimate existence lubrication between real and fantasy. A single event was changed that set a whole other branch as the main branch for an entire splay of existence but the ghost of that old branch is out there somewhere and when, just dead and fading away. With the help of chrism, I can pull the memories and recreate some of the advantages they once possessed from that shadowed pattern.


    "That being said, I believe Chrism is no good thing. Once it''s served its purpose, it''s best to immediately move past the need to keep it and replace it with fully self created essence. Do it as soon as possible within reason. You should have a couple of centuries before it even becomes a danger. That''s when the entity that made it should return from the outside but I can''t promise that will remain true."


    The young man was laughing but no one was joining him. "Come on... We''ll probably be dust in the ground before then."


    Portia said, "Hurry up and awaken him to save him from more embarrassment."


    Orison tapped the young man with the key. The process was a lot more dramatic than it had been with Lyra but Orison realized that They had the sealed ancient scroll with Them. The fairly abundant natural resources in the ring along with some core and soul stuff of the Xia cultivator within the scroll were partially diminished to fuel a more complex recovery.


    Through clenched teeth, Venito said, "Small red fruit you grabbed. Need one."


    For some reason that the magician didn''t understand, Venito was resisting the changes. The request for the ''small red fruit'' spooked Them. Samsara clones managed to grab five of them before dying to formation traps but the key brought the fruits to Their space before ''everything'' was canceled out. It wasn''t the only fruit but it was the most important one.


    It meant that, somehow, recovering Venito was remembering things from much further out than should have been possible. He was in a fruit induced ''enlightenment'' himself during that episode. Somehow, the man not only was aware of his surroundings but a part of him went into the key without being noticed by Orison.


    The magician lamented its loss but for the memory of Their brotherly love for the vexing scourge to all women, They fed one to Venito. Instantly after melting into Venito''s mouth, the young man looked like he disappeared from existence but for a tiny dot of crimson light that glowed within his dropped garments.


    Before Portia could let out a scream full of anxiety and rage, Orison explained. "It''s a rebirth fruit. He''ll regrow to skeletal maturity with some of the body''s hidden potential unlocked. I don''t particularly understand all the specifics because there''s some obscure laws involved. But, I can assure you that its a good thing for him. The same can''t be said for everyone but definitely for him."


    Seeing that it was going to take some time, Orison was about to leave when Venito spirit messaged, "Don''t leave. There are some things I need to tell you first and I need to finish this first."


    Sighing, the magician sat back down. Lyra looked at them oddly but chose not to comment while Portia watched the Northlander cultivator growing from fetus onward within the expanding crimson glow in rapt fascination.


    An hour in, something that felt similar to a step baptism seeped in from another layer of reality and soaked into the young man in rapid succession. After that, Venito''s maturity sped up significantly.


    As soon as the dulling red aura of light fractured like an egg of delicately spun sugar that was tapped by a hammer, Venito sat and consolidated his essence for a few minutes. He suddenly jumped up and threw out a formation. It put everyone ill at ease.


    He said, "Listen Orison. I need some things from the ring and I need the gold core. But I need the mustard seed bracelet more than I can say. I know you don''t have it yet but bend your abilities to get it as quickly as you can. If you''ll do that for me, I''ll swear on my cultivation to watch over the affairs you started here for twenty years."


    The magician chuckled nervously. "Hey, no need to be so uptight. I may have only been part of your brother but I still think of myself as your... sibling."


    Venito gave him a hug and said, "Back at you."


    Stepping back, he added, "But that''s not why I''m acting so wound up. You are a butterfly''s wing away from attracting the world will''s attention. It might not be able to hurt you directly but it will hurt you through the things you care about.


    "I can''t explain everything right now but I''ve been with you since the garden. I can see by your expression that you understand. Now, understand this. You need to leave this world tonight. Who do you plan on taking with you?"


    A little shakily, Orison passed the ancient scroll with the ring and gold core sealed within to Venito. "I hadn''t completely made up my mind yet. I''m obviously taking Duran but I was wavering if it was in Gan''s best interest to take him or not. I was thinking of asking Halda, after explaining things, for sentimental reasons but I fear for her safety."


    Venito sighed. "It''s just for four years. You should come back for the elevation and get a chunk of existence strengthening... How about this. I''ll go invite that group you have at the inn and you call Duran here. Take them and leave Halda for Lyra to take care of until you return. After the elevation completes, you can reevaluate."


    Lyra said, "If you would have taken Halda without a word to me first, I would have kicked your *ss to the ice flows and back. She was my best friend."


    Orison said, "I know and I wouldn''t have. Honestly, I would have asked you along too if I had chosen to take her but you can cultivate now and I know jack all about that."

 253 The Magician 11

    When they were wrapping up, Venito said. "Help Therridel get stronger so... he can help you deal with your weakness to illusion. Gan can help you get some insight into domain. It galls me to admit it but I received an enlightenment about domain from him myself...


    "Don''t worry about Droya. I can save our foster father since I''m not going to the Long Garden in this run. Believe it or not, he had pretty strong feelings for her that he only pieced together after he died... She was miserable later on, little brother. Let her go be who she was meant to be. She''ll be happier this time. Those kids you saved can have a mother and a father who''ll care for them."


    The magician nodded, not wholly convinced but resigned. Venito knew a lot more details on how things went on Amoril. And even if there might be selfish motives mixed in here and there, he was still fair minded where it mattered. The important thing was that Orison didn''t want to play shepherd to people''s personal lives or guardian to the academy. Venito didn''t think the first was right and he volunteered for the second long enough for the academy to sink or swim on its own merits.


    "Here, I finished transcribing a set of material for Thorrinson. If you help him limber up his mind, magic channels and grant him a touch of life extension, he should be able to handle being head master." the magician said as They handed over a thick volume full of condensed magic theory and spell models.


    A little short of breath, Venito handed over the ring. "I removed cultivation specific thing and what won''t survive conversion to an eternium based source. The laws inside should shift to be more compatible after a couple of boundary crossings. I think it''ll be good in the low dimensions but after you hit the mid, it''s going to start breaking down.


    "Here''s a couple of jade talismans. This one will transport up to eight people back here and this one will let me signal you when it''s time to return... Look, I know you think it''s high handed but Portia saved you a lot of work on explaining things to your trio of feather heads in the inn. It''s just a light touch of false memories. They all agreed to go of their own free will."


    Orison grumbled. "I never intended to do much with Corvinus."


    "It came a bit too late but I wished I had listened to your advice in the embassy that day. I loved my children but I came to resent them too. Over 200 years of a steadily larger burden to bear. The grandchildren and great grandchildren, it was all my fault and I did what a good man should. That didn''t stop me from getting desperate and feeling trapped. That''s how you ended up finding me in Long Garden, moments away from losing the rest of my possibilities."


    The magician smirked. "Does that mean you''re going straight and narrow. hanging up the manwh*re hat?"


    Venito snorted. "To the Abyss with that! I plan on having more fun than ever! Cultivators don''t have kids unless they want them... Uh, look, little brother. I know I need your help this time. But after we meet back up in four years, have a good and long reunion, you need to let go and move on.


    Orison sighed, "It''s a shame that Osomo''s a death trap for cultivators. It would have been neat to go on an adventure with you. A short one, at least."


    Laughing Venito said, "It would be the Abyss for both of us. You can''t stand the way I live and I''m still unsettled by your ability. Maybe once I''m old enough inside that I don''t care about much of anything except the most important things."


    A voice cut in, "You two are on greatly diverging roads and they don''t meet until the very other end of existence, according to the ancient scrolls."


    Master Kretch stood there looking as unassuming as a person can but there was a sense of threat about him that Orison had never felt before. "Cultivators souls grow closer to the material realm as it forms greater connection with their bodies. They tend to develop a stronger sense of duality and its importance. Physical desires and animal instinct instilled at birth only grow stronger with time, kept manageable with discipline and fear of developing heart devils.


    "By virtue of what Orison is, a body becomes little more than an extension of Their soul with which to accumulate experience. Entities like Them tend to develop a stronger sense of the gray area BETWEEN duality and its importance. Physical desires fade with time, kept manageable with emotional tethers, with the fear of apathy and madness.


    "In comparison, the journey of the unknowing soul ranges widely and isn''t limited to any particular way of being at all. Yet, only the most distilled of important experience is kept while all else is discarded... I digress.


    "I am here to volunteer myself to be the head master of your academy. The one you have selected for the job has been whisked away along with Ganga and Corvinus by a young man and an older gentleman with the power to manipulate time. At least they had the courtesy of informing important peoples of their decision."


    Orison rubbed Their head in frustration. "If the Sigil Order was interested in such a thing, why didn''t they do it ages ago!?"


    The old obsidian elf grimaced. "We are custodians of the world''s will. Our ability to influence world affairs is even more limited than a mundane person''s. However, now that the change has been affected, I have volunteered to take up the burden of keeping the course of its development within the bounds of what the will allows. It will still need its protectors from external and internal threats and, by no means, do we intend to interfere with its ability to become a safe haven for the supernatural communities."


    Venito said, "It''s a safe haven for the people we care about. If your order ruins that, then Amoril will know no peace and will have NO hope of ascending to the mid dimensions. Bank on that!"


    Master Kretch took his own turn rubbing tension out of his head. "As I am given to understand, Mistress Droya is the proprietress who owns the land right? I am only asking to be Head Master for a time, not the owner or final decision maker. I only have done so because of an illumination of purpose distilled from interacting with young Patrick and Orison''s moving speech.


    "Allow me to phrase it another way. Do either of you want to be Head Master? Do you know someone more qualified and less likely to turn it into another kingdom ran travesty? With my replacement of Thorrinson, what dramatic changes to your plans do you anticipate?


    "My order is not interested in it as a whole. I am. If some recruitment for my order happens within its future halls, what does that represent outside of more opportunities and long term stability for the academy? It is never an easy pill to swallow but life is filled with such uncertainties and surprises."


    After a whirlwind of of spitfire arguments that Kretch crushed with irrefutable logic, the two brothers conceded.


    Once the old elf left, Venito said, "Well, there''s people you know on Osomo. Snatch one of them up. I''d have thrown Winter your way but she doesn''t exist anymore. Yeah, the woman you ended up shacking up with, her core fragment was that woman you brought back from the Marshlands. The reason you thought it was Rose was because THAT woman possessed Iliyani. That Obsidi-er, Craig Elf was a fragment of Winter. I don''t know how it ALL played out."


    Orison was getting too weary of it all to be surprised. "Alright then. Guess it''s just me, Duran and... Therridel for now... Duran, I need you."


    The boy appeared in front of Orison unconscious with a field of force surrounding both himself and the magician.


    Seeing that Orison was about to take off to the caves to check on the children and the two young adults there, Venito said, "Those six are fine. Nub lead them to a hidden teleport beacon connected to our base. They''re probably in Evergreen by now. Duran hung back. He said that Amoril didn''t like him and he was safe in the cave."


    Orison sighed, "Even powerful people aren''t safe when they''re alone."


    Their musings were interrupted by a wooden mask falling to wobble on the floor. Unlike the first time Orison saw the water breathing mask, there was a strong Abyssal presence wafting from it.


    "Rozcherek! What did you do to my friend!?" Orison bellowed at the mask.


    Startled by a stranger knowing his name, the weakened Abyss lord possessing the object said, "I was ordered to investigate an inactive gate that was used. The new ruler of my realm was trying to get rid of me because I was a fallen rival."


    Orison snorted. "You were so cocky in the alternate timeline. So sure that my summoning you cost your victory, it''s more like you were blaming your weakness on me! You were a loser this time all by yourself."


    Angered, the abyss lord tried to possess the magician only to find himself in a very bad situation.


    As the first layer of Orison''s space ripped and tore at him, he yelled, "I swear to serve you a year and a day... a life time... Loyally and dutifully for an astral cycle and I bequeath my most treasured possession to you, damn it! I''d rather die that promise more."


    The demon wouldn''t have lasted that long but with each oath, greater than the last, the desolate inner realm of Orison''s protected him from dissolution a little more. Upon the last oath, a plain iron staff with a fancy knob appeared in Orison''s hand and the demon was pulled into the desolate realm.


    Inspecting the staff while Venito looked on, slightly stunned, the magician said, "I remember this piece of sh*t. A shady RNG polymorph staff is your most treasured possession?"


    Too late, Orison discovered a subtle curse on the staff. When handing it off for Venito''s curious inspection, it slipped through Their fingers. Venito managed to grab it but the head dipped down and tapped Duran. Thinking quickly, Orison pulled out the Entanglement Key and twisted the resulting change to best possible result until They could get Their hands on a way to reverse affect.


    Since the staff had to pay for that, it broke. A spiritual wail of frustrated depression echoed out to the magician from Their inner spiritual realm, bringing a temporary smirk to Their face as They checked to make sure Duran was alright. That smirk faded when They saw that Duran was in pain.


    Out of all the possibilities of the staff, They had chosen cambion because Duran would still be himself. It was only a temporary thing anyway. The ''problem'' was that Duran was carrying a sizable amount of golden fake karma from the world where the undead had been. Wick had left their share for the boy to figure out a use for it as well.


    When Orison had pulled Duran''s pattern from the dead reality branch, that lost and unclaimable karma had came back with it. Boiling away as ''virtuous grace'', it redeemed the unasked for demonic change in its host. The battle between virtuous and corrupted essence didn''t cancel each other out. Rather, it had turned into a sparse mote collection of unknown supernatural bloodline. A change prompted by something deep within Duran himself.


    Outside of a touch otherworldly and idealistic maturing of Duran into a youth on the cusp of manhood, much like Venito and Orison, less mortal features failed to express. A few wisps of coppery gold began circulating around the relatively mundane spectral blue of Duran''s soul. The color evoked the image of armor belonging to a noble and righteous knight who had waded into the thick of battle with the common soldiers.


    A few additional bloody motes drifted up through the floor into Duran before his eyes opened wide in a panic and said, "Get me off the world, now!"


    Venito let out a bloody cough as the world''s will slammed into the man''s formation with desperation fueled, annihilating intention. Catalyzed into action, the magician flicked Their key to boost range for planar travel. Allowing it to pull Themselves and Duran to the nearest ''entangled'' target outside of Amoril''s influence, the two appeared in a vacuumed space hostile to life.


    Duran immediately released a field of force that established some pressure but didn''t make air. The young man started grabbing at things like his life depended on it and Orison did the same once They realized They were holding a conduit, the one that they had subconsciously created when They were still Al. If there had been breathable air, Orison would have laughed at how practiced and smooth Duran''s thievery was.


    Not to be outdone, the magician utilized Their telekinesis to its full advantage for the last few seconds it took before the two were floating towards a giant mountain of eternium floating in the vast. Both quickly packed away their gains before being drawn inside the eternium mountain. No message was played nor welcome given. There was only a scan of Orison''s spark and a request of identity for Duran. Using the deliberation shortcut and a use of the badge Duran had grabbed, the young man was given an adopted First Family member spark. Afterwards, the two appeared in a familiar transporter.


    Not wanting to play time wasting games, the magician grabbed onto Duran and transported them inside of the Greed Temple. After playing the swap game, the random junk was made quick work of. While they were doing that, the map conduit snatched a few items for itself and disappeared. Internally, They felt it communicate with the Entanglement key, take the dragon bloodline hiding within Them and race off to a Draconos man that Orison was all too familiar with.


    "Where the hell did I get more dragon bloodline?...Oh... The friggin scary one Baulder fought to the death with alongside all those ''fallen heroes of old''," They muttered.


    Looking over to Duran, They asked, "How are you feeling?"


    "Used and lied to," the young man said sadly.


    Poleaxed by the ''left field'' response, Orison said, "I hope that''s not my fault."


    Eyes wide, Duran snapped out of his thoughts and waved his hands emphatically. "No! Of course not! By Wick. Wick lied to me... It''s not important anymore. We know why Amoril wanted me dead now."


    Orison said, "Pretend I''m dumb and explain."


    Duran looked at the magician in surprise and said with the ghost of a smile, "One of my parents was used in their experiment, Avenar or one of his associates'' experiment. We saw what they were doing but it wasn''t only demon''s blood. There was a couple of different shrine gods'' blood and some other things. Whatever was used that passed dormant onto me, it''s tied with whatever powerful dead supernatural creature that Amoril was birthed from the remnants of."


    With dawning understanding, the magician said, "And that makes you the rightful inheritor."


    Duran scowled and said, "More like victim. I would have been overwritten by it. Amoril would have turned into a dying world too."


    Orison was about to respond to that when an emergency summons by Osomo, boosted by a great deal of power, managed to reach them where they were hiding out. Duran responded with a surprised smile but the magician was overwhelmed as a random mass of stuff poured from the spark into the first layer of Their space.


    It was the third time Orison had been pulled forcefully into the desolate realm but it was the first time They were glad it had. Momentarily fighting against the life saving pull that kept Them from rupturing under the mountain of stuff that got shunted into Them, the magician used the key to sort out the utmost important items into the first layer.


    They got a brief glimpse of the nearly repaired foundation and a confused looking Rozcherek before They found themselves being tended to, weak and naked, by a woman who was a complete stranger but felt familiar. "I''d stay and thank you properly but it seems that you have urgent matters to attend to. I''ve left a karma mark for you that will activate in a few years. Call me if you need a helping hand."


    As soon as the woman left, Orison found that They couldn''t remember what she looked like. "Same story, different hotel."


    Orison felt for the presence of a TSSR suit signature and activated it with a great deal more happiness than it probably deserved. That happiness got Them through the rough news of the current situation. It was a situation that They had to piece together to completely figure out.

 254 The Magician 12

    It shunted the sizable but limited inheritance to the ''only two remaining'' but still ''only adopted'' First Family Members. After that, it separated what would be given to the ''goddess'' and what would be sent through inter-dimensional to Osmos Nine for repairs and broad scan beacon search. It had finally managed to accomplish something it had likely been scheming for years under the developing personality provided by the faith it had been receiving.


    Osomo the goddess wasn''t only free of Osomo the AI but also free of the First Family. She was fully aware that Orison and Duran were scamming tricksters and probably did the first time too. Some of the odd behavior and choices for a highly intelligent AI made a whole lot more sense under such a light.


    There was some unfortunate sides to it all. With so much junk incoming, Orison ended up with very little in comparison. Duran and the magician had also been forced off the world into ''the space between places'' on a three level ''egg'' of a barely functioning space vessel made by the Great Artificer. As First Family members, they weren''t allowed on that world or its adjoining planes any longer.


    "The Conqueror''s Treaty," the magician said in a deflated voice.


    Duran stopped tinkering with his new suit and said, "The flower girl and catkin boy... I wonder how they will fare in the new world without assistance."


    Grim faced, Orison said, "I have important business on this world... OSOMO! I request a visitation of one hour! I will take nothing that I cannot carry and will take no one who does not desire to leave with me."


    A woman''s voice washed soothingly around them in a spiritual ripple. "I grant you and you alone this request but you must cleave yourself of your spark for all time. It is as much for your sake as mine."


    Orison reached within and stripped the fake spark of all patterns. "Agreed. Moving forward, I will not be known to the First Family as a friend because of what you have done through me."


    With a wide, nearly evil smile on Their face, They disappeared in a curtain of light after having Duran hang tight. The fading feeling of a great deal of time passing turned into the opposite. It felt like They had just stepped out before reappearing in the same place. It wasn''t pleasant. There was a sensation of everything that They were being pulled to the breaking point and then being smashed by unbelievable pressure.


    Sick, dizzy and feeling on the verge of turning into a detonated nuclear bomb, Duran told Them, "Hurry. Get to the dying world or half of the things you have accomplished will go to waste."


    As darkness filtered in around the edges of Their vision, Duran calmly said, "Ultimate Grand Summons."


    ***


    Orison''s gummy eyes opened to the image of sitting in a vast gray space. Spirit Sight filtered out from Them and seemed to pour into another space just outside of Their aura''s envelope, mere inches past Their physical body. They threw down a spirit essence magic circle with a spiral pattern almost instantly.


    As the illusion shattered, the magician saw that they were holding a ratty and disintegrating black silk purse. Their surroundings were rustic but modern in a spacious master bedroom. Walking out of the bedroom, They felt an artificial sun''s light shining in from a window.


    "Well, Female Orison Thirty-two, we''ve done everything we can for all who we used to know and lived out the majority of our desired experiences with the ones who moved us. Is there anything else left?" a withered old man approaching the end of his lifespan said.


    F.O. Thirty-two, AKA: Reese, said suggestively, "We''re just old Samsara shadows on the verge of expiring. Feel like crossing the line of friendship one last time or can you even get it up, MD One o'' Eight?"


    The old man laughed half jovially and half ruefully. "Do you know how unfair it is that you look bright as a newly pressed penny until the bitter end? Trying to get it up now would be a form of suicide. We still have a little ''original self reference point'' work to do."


    She looked down at the ratty purse and said, "As I promised, you let Therridel torture you until he learned illusion domain and lasted through my own final training. When we''re gone, you''ll have enough resources left here to begin life as a restored person of the fifth Tier, albeit early in."


    The old man said, "Alright, focus Granny Reese. We''re the only clear memories they''re going to have when they wake up."


    After he handed a jade talisman over, they both loaded the expertly organized information into their minds. Once they were done absorbing that, they composed their personal final ''wills'' sharing session.


    Within a meditative trance, she said to herself, "Despite the personal complications it will pose, both the majority of us and the majority of Durans have decided that the climbing convenience of being male is too hard to ignore. He''s made a lot of sacrifices to stay by our side when many others reached the limit of what they could endure or accept. So, even though he will say otherwise, you know what the right thing to do is when the weight of those sacrifices gets him down.


    "We''ve done everything that was possible, that causality and Greater Reality would allow, to ensure the happiness and prosperity of our loved ones. It''s time to focus on what you need now. As you''ll see from the jade strip, we found an exceedingly rare linear reality that stretches far across dimensional lines.


    "It''s also exceedingly law and will repressed but as you grow and learn there, you''ll validate the very essence of what''s allowed at the heart of magic and soul. There''s a heavy trade off for that, though. It''ll be good practice for the high dimension ability crunch but you''re going to experience near mundane status at first.


    "For the time you''re there, you won''t be able to feel tier or step. It''ll be slow going to even use the ''calm'' part of your space. It''s a bitter pill to swallow but Duran''s going to pull the bigger weight early in. You can pay him back by tolerating and keeping him alive through his nearly suicidal antics.


    "I''m not supposed to do this but minor causality dings be damned. Your ill starred fate with the Nunos family and ''dark'' elves from various walks might rear up in there. The same for Duran''s ill starred fate with Rogers family members and beast kin from various walks."


    Switching up tone, she grew somber. "There were prices paid to make everything work. There are reasons beyond causality conflicts for the huge gaps and strong fades in personal life memories. You and Duran are physically and spiritually sterile in a cruel kind of way. Don''t attempt to have fruitful unions. All you''ll create is a tragedy.


    "That being said, it''s not forever and you both have protected legacies. For the sake of safety and sanity, don''t try to discover them now or in the future. They''ll find you, when and if they can."


    Finished with her last mission, she waited patiently for her partner to finish his. As the old man released himself from a meditative state, he looked at his partner and saw that she had a small gelcap in her hand. It took him a moment to figure out what it was.


    Smiling at her helplessly, he said, "I thought you were merely joking with me earlier."


    The saucy smile she had as she fed it to him faded into something sadder and more desperate. "We lived our whole lives for them but we are our own people too, born and raised to our own wants and needs too. I don''t want to just pass away into a pile of dust calmly. Let''s go out of this world embracing life and forgetting we''re just tiny parts of big people."


    As the man reverted to a youth at the peak of life and potential, he said, "You were always so dangerously separate, unlike the rest of us. Maybe that''s why you were the one who lived until the very end. Alright, Reese. If that''s want you want, I most certainly can think of no better way to shed the mortal coil."


    She smirked. Behind the helpless and tolerant expression that portrayed a kind and saintly man, greedy eyes burned no less desperate than her own to claim some pleasure from the bitter end. And claim, they did. Both of them squeezed the very last of their life force for every drop of joy it could bring before collapsing into intermingling piles of dust.


    ***


    Oscen, Little Wren to Abbess Maria, stood looking lost. Over the past two days, his life had been flipped upside-down. A bandit attack destroyed the orphanage, the whole village.


    His best friend, Warrick, suddenly became very good at fighting, killing the bandits that had lingered to round up the women and children, running after the rest. Although he didn''t want to believe it, he had no choice but to accept that his friend was dead or would have made it back already. Still, there was a small hope but it dwindled by the hour.


    In the midst of Abbess Maria and her daughter Celeste attempting to organize their charges to transfer to other shelters, he was handed a small bag of coins and told that he was too old to go with them. It was a hard choice for Maria that had been made with teary eyes but fourteen was the cut off for the Church of the Sun. And even though Oscen could pass as young enough with the right lies, a church official had already thumbed through the Monastery''s ledger.


    The small bag represented additional hardship for her and her daughter but it was only right in her mind. It was the remainder given to them by odd job earnings that Oscen and Warrick had been accumulating since they were twelve anyway. Such a thing was fairly common and one of the few reasons the monastery still had an orphanage at all. Giving half back as savings to help those leaving establish their new life was just as common a practice in larger places. But there wasn''t nearly as much donation money, much less free coin for extra hands, in such a small place.


    With little recourse, Oscen only had two reasonable choices before him. He would have to become a tenet farmer or be conscripted into military service. Joining the church choir as a castrato seemed like a fate worse than death and farming or soldiering felt like better options than losing his meager base citizenship.


    To make things more confusing, strange knowledge and understandings began awakening in him. Each night after the raid incident, he''d wake up feeling less like the person he had always been. He felt like something important was going to happen soon and it made him despair that the one and only person he completely trusted in his small and suddenly cruel world, had seemingly rushed off to die at the hands of bandits.


    As he contemplated his diminishing life choices, a girl from the orphanage that Oscen remembered due to her exceptional appearance, came staggering away from where the blacksmith''s apprentice was salvaging tools from his master''s smithy. Her face was stained with tears and heartbreak was etched into her face. Underneath that was a hint of growing desperation.


    Seeing Oscen help Sister Celeste clean up after closing the soup line, she took a moment to wipe away the tears and traces of personal tragedy before walking over. "Little Wren wasn''t it? May I have a moment of your time?"


    Sister Celeste frowned at the auburn haired girl and whispered to him, "Her lover has just abandoned her. He''ll have difficulties making his reputation in another village and little resources to do it with. Another mouth to feed-"


    The auburn haired girl sneered. "You wouldn''t be gossiping and smearing a girl''s virtue against your order''s rules would you, Sister Washboard?"


    Sighing, Celeste said, "I''m a few months yet from vows. In the year of contemplation, I can still remove my head cover, kick your tart *ss and still pray for forgiveness tonight. The Lord grants mercy for the difficulty of mortals in knowing what darkness requires a strong arm and what requires strong prayer."


    Having been raised in the outer shelter and not knowing the feuds of the inner one for girls behind cloister walls, Oscen wanted to excuse himself. He intuited that Sister Celeste was in this predicament to save him from some perceived threat the auburn haired girl represented, however. Like many older boys in the orphanage, he had a bit of a torch in his heart for the rather plain but kind Sister.


    "What is it that you wished to discuss with me, young miss?" Oscen said with the height of courtesy taught from as early as he could remember by Abbess Maria.


    Attempting to play coy, she said, "It''s a rather personal affair. Perhaps we could talk somewhere more private."


    With growing alarm, the sister said, "Don''t you dare try to get Little Wren to nurture the pumpkin another planted in your patch!"


    Red eyed and shaking, the girl said, "Stop with the lies, you false sister! Can I not take what might be our last moments together to speak the feelings of my heart, to someone who I might never see again, without be slandered!?"


    The small embers of sympathy he had for the girl blew cold in that moment. He might have been willing to aid her in her dire need but he couldn''t accept her thinly veiled attempt to trap him or her disrespect of Sister Celeste.


    "Mug**** and penny*****. You can find some in just about any abandoned garden around the village. I myself have collected some among other curing simples in the last two years. If you can''t handle the grim future any other way, do what you think is best," he said darkly. "Use no more of one than you would the other for a tea. One tea a day for a few days should do it."


    Sister Celeste looked at him in horror and walked away with watery eyes that she was fighting to hold back. For a moment, he wanted to run after her and apologize or ask her to pray with him over his ''sin'' but that feeling passed quickly. The only thing he would have done differently was write it down instead of saying it out loud if he had a do-over.


    Pushing back that piece of roiling emotion into the growing ball building in his heart from all that had happened so suddenly, he looked at her stunned expression and added. "It''s not completely safe but it''s better than being cornered into selling yourself or trying to embrace any other life or lie that you couldn''t abide for long."


    She said, "If you had professed that in front of a church official, they might have you tried for back magic!"


    Cocking his head to the side with a wry smile, Oscen said, "For what, helping you with cramps and menstrual irregularity?"


    From behind him, a man''s voice said, "Well, I must be on the right trail to find the boy our little bandit murdering wonder was crowing about. Are you Oscen?"


    He spun around in a panic to see a man in official looking leather armor that carried a small symbol on it Oscen assumed was a noble''s crest. Seeing a chance, the auburn haired girl tried to push a suit that the boy was dodging his ''responsibilities'' and that she would like compensation from him.


    He thought to himself, "So the truth is out. Maybe Sister Celeste was wrong after all and you were just targeting my coin purse."


    The man put out a hand to halt her approach but when she didn''t listen, he placed his gloved hand on her face and pushed just hard enough for her to fall onto her backside. "Come with me. Abbess Maria is attending and she says that you''ve a pair of capable hands with basic heal craft."


    Oscen gave a last look at the girl that was filled with sympathy once more before following the soldier. The world was cruel and even crueler to women without a family to protect them. He was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt that she felt in lack of options but that didn''t extend to making himself one.


    As soon as they had reached their destination, Abbess maria said calmly but loudly, "Little Wren, clean your hands and help with the sewing."


    He knew what she was about. Oscen had helped with such things as an attendant before. If he could wade in and put some stitches to skin in a relatively decent manner, he could win himself an apprenticeship to a field chirurgeon.


    With survivors desperate to secure what remained of their livelihood and lost in thoughts, no one had heard the four horses calmly plodding their way to the monastery. There were only minor injuries for the most part but one man had taken an arrow to the meaty part between chest and arm. There was also a concussion victim still oozing blood from a raised lump on his head.


    It was the second that held Oscen''s attention long enough to be called back to focus and the task at hand. The young man looked very different, yet Oscen knew it was Warrick beyond a shadow of doubt. He simply tacked up the visual strangeness to the presence of a salvaged set of leather armor with a swollen and bruised head.

 255 The Magician 13

    Instead of heading straight for the cleaned cut Abbess Maria had prepped for him, the young man went straight for the arrow wounded soldier, as she watched in worry. It was unfounded. After cleaning the shaft, he applied a salve on it.


    One soldier said, "Is he healing the man or the arrow?"


    The Abbess said, "Watch and you''ll understand, young sir."


    She didn''t remember showing him that trick but chalked it up to a lifetime of eventful moments. The speed and precision of movement left her a little dumbfounded but the world was filled with talented young people destined by ''The Lord'' for many a calling.


    She said, "See how the shaft drags the salve deep into the wound as it is pushed out?"


    The soldier asked, "Why not reverse the course of the arrow? It has already made its tear. Why make it worse by aiding it in completing its course?"


    The abbess sighed, "If only such a thing were possible, many a lost life would have been saved. Punctures are sucking wounds. They cling and grip onto what is lodged inside. He made the less damaging choice. Had he chosen to pull, I would have stopped him unless it was a shallow puncture."


    Oscen cut the arrow head off and cleaned the other side of the shaft before applying salve on it as well. With a swift pull, the arrow was free and the young man made quick work of the rest. The prepared cut he was originally supposed to deal with was handled with such absentminded ease, the soldiers who witnessed it wondered if the boy had apprenticed with a village physician before.


    With a silent prayer of forgiveness for the small lie, the abbess said, "Indeed. It wasn''t to be official until later this spring when he left the orphanage but Little Wren had been under the physician''s care for the past two years, may the Lord of Light grant him peace."


    The soldier in charge, who had been silently watching the whole time said, "Which is it, Oscen or Wren?"


    With a faint blush, Maria said, "Ah, Vault of Heaven preserve! Oscen means song bird. Little Wren is the name of affection I''ve given him all these years because he likes to sing when he thinks he is alone. Though, not so much these past two years since a visiting bishop suggested that he become a castrato for the capitol''s choir."


    The man''s eyes bulged a little and made the circle of the sun on his chest. "The Lord is merciful but his holy men frighten me at times."


    The Abbess muttered, "As they should. Sometimes men forget that they are still only men when they wear the mantle of our Lord''s grace but you did not hear that from me... In this case, it was unfounded concern. The Bishop had mistaken Little Wren for being younger than he was. Perhaps it was a bit cruel of me but I once used it as a way to ensure good behavior."


    She chuckled. "Women need to take all the leverage they can get. Especially when it''s needed to keep growing boys in check before they become men.


    While they had been talking, Oscen had been working on Warrick''s head injury. To his surprise, under the stimulus of seeing his friend''s injured state, a mysterious feeling had welled up within. Although it was fairly unnoticeable to all but Oscen himself, the swelling had went down some and the seeping stopped.


    He had barely registered himself either because Maria''s words had drawn his attention to them. "Abbess, I had nightmares for months after that!"


    With smug righteousness, she replied, "And you were the best behaved you had ever been. You even helped keep... Sorry, Little Wren. I know you miss your friend keenly."


    He looked between Warrick and the Abbess in confusion but decided not to comment. Children who grew up in the orphanage learned two things quickly. It was a bad idea to contradict authority. It wasn''t such a great idea to volunteer information either.


    If she didn''t recognize Warrick, he wasn''t going to enlighten her because he had heard one of the soldiers ask ''Duran'' how he was doing. Oscen didn''t understand why his friend would lie about their name but wasn''t about to be the one to out them. He, of course, fully intended on asking about it later when they were alone.


    Looking appropriately downtrodden, Oscen said, "Many lived who otherwise wouldn''t have. I hope that they appreciate that."


    With conflicting emotion in her eyes she lied. "Of course they do. Many have given prayers and thanksgivings to his deeds and ones for his safety as well."


    The soldier in charge sighed. "It''s a shame really. I picked up this gem over here and From what he said of this Warrick lad, I would have two fine new recruits. Never the less, perhaps I do anyway.


    "Tell me, Little Wren. Did your master have any other student to complete his trade that might take you in?... I thought not. We''ll have old Sawbones evaluate your skills back at the charter house. That is, unless being little better than a serf or criminal soldier appeals to you?"


    It was strong arm tactics but it wasn''t an untrue statement. Tenant farmers lived no better than a serf in all but name and the ability to choose their landlord. Youth conscripts might work for years before making any military rank, if they lived long enough, as they were often lumped together with criminal conscripts for front line duty.


    With a wry smile that made him seem older than his years, Oscen said, "Show me the way to the charter house."


    Later that evening, sharing the ''new recruit'' tent salvaged from bandit goods, he finally had his chance to confront his friend.


    "What in the nine hells is going on?" he whispered.


    Duran replied just as quietly, "Just sleep on it and you''ll understand more tomorrow. Anything I can tell you now is just going to confuse you and get you asking questions I can''t answer... Honestly, I would like to know how you''re not already... I don''t know... caught up with me."


    With a tingling running up his scalp, Oscen said, "You''ve been getting strange memories too?"


    Duran nodded, "And faster for some reason I don''t understand."


    The budding physician said, "Maybe it has to do with stimulation? I was scared for a little bit but you went chasing after the bandits like a suicidal crazy person."


    His young militant friend said, "They had our little brothers and sisters from the orphanage. What was I supposed to do? Besides, good deeds pay off. They do this time, anyway... Mind giving me a once over with your healing before you call it a night? I ache from from hair tip to toe nail."


    Rummaging through his pack, Oscen said, "I''ve got some pain relief and anti inflammation stuff in here somewhere."


    Duran looked at him strangely. "Your healing ability. Use your supernatural ability... to heal... the crack in my skull."


    It took some more coaxing before ''Little Wren'' tried and more before he got the idea he actually could. After a minute or so, Duran looked relieved and Oscen had passed out from exhaustion.


    Muttering quietly to himself, Duran said, "I think you were onto something with the stimulation thing but I don''t think it has anything to do with adrenaline. I think it has to do with the powers we have... We should have awakened and matured much earlier, not being raised from toddlers at an orphanage. Something went wrong and we have no way to find out what it was."


    When his friend started letting off a fuzzy glow, Duran covered him up, careful not to touch the sleeping young mage. There was a small but subtle temptation that lasted a brief second before being snuffed out. The type of relationship that both of them needed more than any other was a simple and straightforward friendship to weather all the radical changes and chaos in their lives.


    He might not have any real clue what his ''ideal partner'' might look like but he was certain that it would be a woman. And that was no favor, to either one of them, in their current world. Like most non-modern ones, it wasn''t a fun place and that was exponentially true for a pretty woman.


    There wasn''t a single ounce of surprise on Duran''s face when he woke up from Orison''s startled gasps. As the young mage clawed to alert wakefulness, Duran held a finger up to his lips. While They tried to gain equilibrium, Orison searched Their friends face for context on how to treat what was revealed. As usual, it was blandly stoic but there was a hint of amusement in it too.


    "For the record, Samsara runs the gambit of a person''s inner composition. Reese was a fairly extreme expression and in no way a good representation of myself," Orison felt the need to explain.


    Duran shrugged. "My last samsara incarnation was as balanced and accepting as I can be. Funny thing is, I know that but can''t remember much about any of the others at all."


    The young mage nodded. "It would defeat the purpose. We were using a causality loophole to ''un'' time travel, I think. What I''m the most concerned about is how few people I can remember. There had to have been tonnes."


    The soldierly young man said, "That would defeat our current purposes, which are a fresh start and safety for the people we care about, among other things."


    They snorted. "What a hell of a fresh start! We aren''t where we''re supposed to be. The worst part is, I''m supposed to have a decent idea of which world is which in terms of power progression and I don''t. We might as well throw the whole itinerary out the window. Time frame, location, points of reference; they''re all wrong."


    Duran rolled the information in his head and said, "You mean to tell me that we were actually forced to have the fresh start we were supposed to have?... Joke out of my system, something obviously went wrong but we have no way of finding out what it was. Let''s not waste our effort grabbing at things we can''t control."


    The young mage frowned. "You sound almost like you''re happy we''re in hard mode without a strategy guide."


    The soldierly young man sighed. "Not happy but maybe a little more excited than I should be. Knowing everything in advance is... boring."


    Orison scratched their head in frustration. "Fine. It is what it is. When are we ditching this bunch?"


    "What can you do to help?" Duran said.


    The young mage ran through Their ''new place'' magic testing. "The healing set is pretty complete but slow and costly. In the summon set, best combat has mundane wolf parameters and best ability type is elemental sprite. Material conjuring and altering is REALLY slow and unsurprisingly heavy in essence cost. Outside of law casting, I think I can piece Presto back together in around an hour."


    Duran said, "That''s a lot more than you should have starting out but less than enough. You''re a mage! Where''s the fireballs and lightning?"


    Orison smirked as They summoned a fire sprite for a couple of seconds. "Oh, it doesn''t look impressive but it''s a fireball that listens to orders. We''ll it''s more like a matchstick that listens to orders now. But, just you wait and see!


    "There may be a peaceful solution to all of this. Way better because we''ll want to return to help our little ''brothers and sisters'' out before we head on about our own business, yes? Or, I want to, at least."


    Duran snorted but didn''t add further comment as they acted out Orison''s plan. Fifteen minutes later, they left the tent with their stuff gathered up. The two had wrapped their faces and were letting out the occasional wet cough and sniffing up runny noses.


    In a quick round robin of discussion with the leader, who had been wakened slightly ahead of schedule due to the incident, the young mage explained that it seemed to be a late spring flu. To keep from infecting the men or bringing it back to their charter house, Orison asked to borrow one of the horses acquired from the bandits and wait out the two or three days of sickness at the village before returning.


    "And if it turns out to be something more serious?" the leader asked.


    Orison said dourly, "Then I''ll plant the plague flags to keep local church officials and nobles from spreading it in their relief efforts until it''s resolved. I really do believe it to only be lingering winter flu. Miserable, annoying but far from deadly."


    The man chuckled from a good, safe distance and said, "Most recruits in your situation would be begging to not be abandoned. All that will be left in your village when you arrive will be the stubborn and unwelcoming homesteaders. Though, the monastery would have a serviceable room or two. Is that where I''ll find my horse?"


    The young mage said. "Better to expect a few silver and a well fed monastery. The half lame one there will do. It''s a few days past useful but it''s got one hobbling day left in it before filling some bellies."


    The man looked at the broken down mare with a poorly healing foot wound. "Three silver for the horse and one for the tent, bedding included. If you haven''t got it, my apologies."


    Orison took out the whole coin bag and handed it over. "Don''t be coy, sir. That was bait to see if we had it and you would have taken the whole thing on the chance that some was pocketed from bandits by my friend. There isn''t much left to cry over after paying your stated price anyway."


    "Fair coincidence that it''s only a few copper over my asking," the leader said, looking at the young mage suspiciously.


    "A sentiment I share in turn, sir. I thought we were traveling with the bandit slayers, not the bandits. My friend and I had five silver in savings for our majority and now all but a small few coppers rest in your hand. How heartless do you feel like being? We''ll need to eat while we''re sick, you know," Orison said in irritation.


    The leader didn''t seem completely convinced but wasn''t about to shake them down in front of his men after fleecing them so harshly. "Tell the monastery''s caretaker that he better have six silver, a living horse or a rotting horse corpse waiting for me when I come to check."


    Orison nodded wearily and climbed up on the weakly protesting mare while Duran numbly shuffled to roll up the tent.


    As they made distance, one soldier said, "That horse don''t look like its going to even get them back."


    "Not my problem but it is OUR drinking money on fortnight leave. A little debt hanging over their heads will help keep them in line. What was that debt again? I think I said one gold and six silver for the decent horse they took. That''ll be drinks AND companionship for a few fortnight leaves, men." the leader said.


    "Sounds like an unlucky number that you wouldn''t say. I believe I heard two gold even, sir," another cut in.


    As soon as they were out of sight, Orison fixed the problem They had created to look ill and spent some time on the horse before sagging onto the horse''s bare back. "Charter house... We almost got snatched up by a noble sanctioned mercenary group, Duran. What a freaking nightmare. There must be some bloody summer campaign brewing somewhere nearby."


    The soldierly young man replied, "We''ll have to watch for a press gang when we swing through the village again, then."


    Orison laughed, "Like hell we will."


    The young mage produced two enameled badges with rotten, old looking snapped thread on the back. "Their poor deceased companions are going to be buried without crest marked uniforms, though. Alright, let''s stop and refit. I have two suit balls and a ring that just got uncovered from my inner space."


    A few minutes later, they were heading to where Duran had hidden a lock box with the meager amount of accumulated wealth that the impoverished bandits'' leader had secretly amassed. "Why so gloomy, Sonny?"


    "Why do suits need a planned obsolescence date from activation? There''s less than half a year left on them. Whatever. I''m glad they work at all. The ''small garden'' ring just crapped out into a ''small gym locker'' ring that''s probably only going to reliably last for a few months," Orison grumbled.


    Duran said, "We are lower than we were supposed to start. That explains why you can do a little more than you should and why this stuff works. Our original starting location would have stripped those suit balls to carbon dust and broke that ring as soon as it came out."


    The young mage said, "I can verify that we''re in the right reality, at least. The basketball chunk of condensed eternium I was using as a fake sun turned into a thumbnail piece of black opal. It''s kind of pretty."


    "Kind of deadly to be holding out in the open too. Until it gets set as a focus gem, it can draw monsters and greedy people alike," Duran said.


    The young mage laughed. "The enchantment in it twisted and internalized. It''s worthless for anything other than a really expensive tanning light bulb."


    Duran said, "You are way too dismissive of things. Throw it in a lantern and slap the right label on it. It''s an anti-undead minor deity level artifact."


    Bickering back and forth as old friends often do, the duo picked up the lock box and a few mundane but useful items before turning towards the village. "So, this is why you were gone that extra day?"


    Duran shook his head. "I was gone so long because I finished awakening after killing off the bandits. I originally planned on coming back to the village as a bounty hunter or something but those soldiers caught up to me first. That knot on my head was from an initial attempt to run. I smoothed that over by pretending that I thought the bandits were some noble''s mercenary group and they were some sort of back-up.


    "I probably was lucky that they were one themselves. An actual noble''s soldiers probably wouldn''t have cared and killed me. If I was a completely normal person, that blow to my head might have done it anyway. If they hadn''t caught me while I was still weak from awakening, I might not have cared and killed them. It evens out."


    The young mage asked, "What would you have done if I didn''t have a plan to get away from them?"


    "I would have had to kill them. They weren''t anything good. Then again, neither am I. I''m glad I didn''t have to," the soldierly young man said.

 256 The Magician 14

    One day in the monastery, a small donation of coin and lower tier medicines to the caretaker and the Abbess had sweetened disposition to the two strangers immensely. It pained Orison and Duran both to be treated warily by the Abbess and Sister Celeste but the transformation of the two was too drastic to explain. For some strange reason, being ''handsome'' or too ''noble'' in the visual sense had put an edge to relations with all the villagers that no amount of generosity was likely to settle.


    Once saddle and tack were bought for the renewed mare, they were ready to move on. But before they were out on the road the next morning, A familiar auburn haired girl and a church official flanked by two temple guards were heading to the cloister. Curious but with a sense of foreboding, the two decided to hang back and see what drama unfolded. Nearly twenty minutes later, the Abbess was lead out calmly while Celeste cried silently to keep from alarming the children any more than they already were.


    Duran was about to dash in with murderous intent, when Orison placed a restraining hand. "Excuse me, Brother. Why do you lead this saintly woman away?"


    The church official stopped, more due to the improper address than to answer the question. "That is Father to you, child. This is church business and no affair for the layman to interfere."


    Orison''s gaze grew just as dark as Duran''s as he shouted at top volume. "That''s where you are wrong, Father. As an ordained priest, you entered a cloister without an attending Mother Superior, gilded brother or a maxim from a bishop. Thus, you have tainted your virtue and the honor of your attending templar. The maximum punishment for which is burning at the stake if there is evidence of carnal misdeeds. Explain yourself or, in the name of the Lord, we shall cleanse you of wickedness!"


    The church official was stunned. In the name of efficiency, he had cut proper procedure but it was often done in rural areas. He wasn''t concerned that his guards couldn''t protect him but they were nervous at the accusation that could haunt them if news of their ''misdeed'' made it back to the bishop''s ears.


    The right guard spoke loudly as well, so that the gathering villagers and layman staff at the monastery could hear. "The Abbess has been accused of spreading heretical herb-lore. It was out of mercy that she was not charged with witchcraft."


    Derisively, Orison said as he pointed at the auburn haired girl, "By her?"


    Orison said, "Oh, I''m sorry. I only ask because if she''s not busy with your dealings, I have an order for the regularity of women''s troubles that was paid in advance for her. Here, madame, prepared packets of mug**** and penny***** tea. "The same recipe that many a noble of this fair land use for irregularities. Don''t use if you are expecting, however. Much like falling forward or a myriad of other such common pitfalls can disrupt the delicate balance of forming new life, thus is this concoction dangerous to such an endeavor."


    Turning to him, the girl hissed, "You are a demon in league with these witches!"


    A study in blandness, Orison replied, "Then I and every physician of repute from border to border of this blessed land are as well. It is a common recipe that can be turned to dark purposes by devil ridden minds. Are you possessed by such a devil to besmirch the devout with evil slander?


    "If you are that desperate to find easy shelter after committing fornication with the blacksmith''s surviving apprentice, appeal to the Father to aid you in wedlock instead. A few months of sweetness with the young man will earn you a home along with better and more proper rearing for your child than what THIS devilment will buy you. There are enough villagers to witness your sinful affair to make the two of you honest in the eyes of the Lord."


    Finally having a crack in the iron shell of witchcraft accusations to exploit, the old caretaker, several children and even one or two villagers came forward to witness. The white faced and fearful blacksmith''s apprentice also came forward to confess the deed to escape the repercussions of an ill reputation that would bar him peace in this or any surrounding village he could possibly reach.


    Digging for a couple of coins as a ''wedding gift'', Orison handed them to the young man and said, "You have driven her to this. Be kind to her in turn. You can be a respectable family man or you can be known to all as a swindler of virtue and an abuser of women."


    Burying the darkness in his eyes, the young blacksmith and father to be swore honor to the heavens. But sadly, it was likely a long and slow burning tragedy in the making. After all the young and desperate woman had done to find a crooked future of ease and comfort rather than the honest routes she had been given, Orison could find little pity.


    Embarrassed by the debacle, the Father snatched the wedding gift coins from the young man and announced them married under the eyes of the Lord as quickly as humanly possible. Once done, he retreated to his comfortable carriage as fast as he respectably could. He had been excited by the idea of thwarting evil and exposing witchcraft to his own greater glory and promotion but had bought himself some wagging tongues he''d have to perform saintly deeds for instead.


    The church guards were sworn to the order and not to a priest or church directly. They would go out of their way to distance themselves from the scandal. The priest wasn''t going to be able to stir additional trouble easily in such a situation where his protectors would use honest accounting to save themselves from possible chastisement.


    After indulging in a couple sobs of relief as she clutched at her chest, Maria pulled herself together with monastic discipline and said, "Strangers, you have done the lord''s work here today. Very well, you may have saved many lives too."


    Wryly, Orison said, "Yes, the church can be quite thorough in ''cleansing evil''. Never the less, what little coin and healing simples we could afford to give, we have. Would that we could do more. But, with this travesty averted, we should be on our way."


    The abbess and her daughter gave what blessings and promises of prayer that church doctrine would allow and reluctantly turned away from their benefactors to deal with upset children.


    A few miles out of town, Duran said, "You have a taste for comfort and luxury. Aren''t you going to regret secreting away that lamp you spruced up with your accidental artifact among Sister Celeste''s belongings? It would have been worth a small fortune to the right person."


    The young mage shook Their head. "That little incident was my fault and she can use it to either secure herself a saintess title or to free herself from the church. You can see it as a gift for us both to bury our childhood crushes for her. The little note attached is addressed from Oscen and Warrick."


    After some discussion, the two decided to travel by trail along a nearby tributary. Following it south, they could pass through a few smaller villages once it widened, eventually hitting a river trade post.


    "The caretaker assured me that this part of the Iron Woods is a favored hunting ground for a nearby baron. As long as we''re seen not straying too far from the tributary, it should be alright," Duran said.


    Enlightened, Orison said, "Ah, a favored hunting spot would have a woodsman assigned to watch over it and seasonal traders made these trails as a shortcut. I''m surprised you''d chose a scenic route with little chance for unpleasant encounter."


    The soldierly young man said, "I want to get out of this land with as little fuss as possible. It''s an explored and conquered land with every section sliced off and claimed. There are no secrets left to uncover, no wonder left in it. Just people left to fight each other over it. Boring."


    The young mage said thoughtfully, "I doubt that''s completely true but I don''t feel like trying to work around a religious organization that is slowly turning all but clerical magic into heresy."


    ***


    Two days down the trail. Orison was wading out of the water, frowning over the pinch of golden sand in Their hand. "Yesterday evening, I got excited over finding out that I could draw trace minerals and metals but this is all I get for my effort today!?"


    Duran shot back, "As far as we are from the northern mountains, I''m surprised you could get that much. If I knew you wanted to play miner, I would have suggested we go that direction instead. There''s myths of trolls still roaming around up there too. For you, that would have been a two for one... We can''t remember nearly anything from before but the echoes of one version or another of you yelling ''troll fat'' at me somehow managed to survive."


    The young mage chuckled. "Yeah, I seem to have a vague memory of that... No need to change plans to chase a myth. If it was confirmed, I''d be tempted. I''d rather chase a milder winter anyway."


    The soldierly young man snorted. "More like chasing a place you can run around naked longer in without catching a chill."


    "You were skinny dipping in the creek behind the monastery and sunbathing right beside me all the way up to when Abbess Maria said we''d grown too old for such things. That was only three years ago," Orison countered.


    "Four. The one time you talked me into doing it and Maria took the sun''s place in tanning our hides hardly counts. You probably could have gotten away with it longer if the abbess hadn''t caught you pitching a pole without the tent canvas. What were you thinking about?" Duran said.


    The young mage said, "You remember the time Sister Celeste slipped into the tub with the little ones during their bath?"


    Duran chuckled, lost in the memory himself. "The wet habit riding clear up as she tried to carefully back out of the tub so she wouldn''t hurt a confused toddler. Her mother smacking her bare bottom for not wearing proper undergarments. That last flash of a red hand print on-"


    Orison activated Their suit as Duran spun to assess the approaching stranger. Some trees and brush had hidden the stranger''s view and he was taken by surprise at how ready the two were to ''greet'' him when he cleared the the last bush.


    "Now, don''t get on edge at this point. If I was meaning you harm, I''d have put an arrow in you yesterday. I''m Baron Kemp''s woodsman. The name''s Dirk," the man said.


    Late thirties and showing signs of a more sedentary life than the average militia grunt, the man looked the part. He seemed tough but not wild and hard but not mean. The enameled badge on his leathers spoke the rest.


    Taking his hand away from sword hilt, Duran said, "Making our way to the river. We''ve touched no game but have caught a couple fish."


    The man smirked at the defensiveness. "By order of the king, water is the communal privilege and responsibility of all citizens. As long as you don''t muck up a muscle bed or be wasteful, you''re still on the good side of things."


    With polite wariness, Orison asked, "What would you have of us, sir?"


    "Seemed kindly enough. If you mean to be on your way or setting camp, an hour or two of company. I could cut a half day off your travels along this serpentine path and set you up in the southern cabin for the night, as well. The price of that''s a few stories and a little help around the place the next day after the storm passes," Dirk said.


    Orison looked at Duran to see a confirming nod. The woodsman didn''t miss it either.


    Dirk looked at the soldierly young man and said, "You know a bit of the old wood lore as well?"


    Duran nodded at him as well. Years, perhaps lifetimes, of friendship had opened him up to the young mage but rarely others. Sensing the young man''s taciturn nature, the woodsman directed most of the conversation towards Orison as they cut through a harder to see path to the southern cabin.


    As twilight fell to dusk, the cabin came into view. It was a simple but comfortable affair with a small stable for Abigale as well. Duran''s unspoken worry that the older woodsman might be of a certain persuasion and offering shelter for dubious reasons ended up being unfounded.


    The man simply spent too much time alone. And with his apprentice soon to find a wife and replace him, he was feeling a bit cut adrift. An exchange of some simple medicines for a couple of the woodsman''s gruit beer brews ended up leading to a conversation that revealed a lot of the man''s relatively basic but sad history.


    As predicted, the early morning brought a storm. What wasn''t expected were some eerie green clouds at the beginning. In the distance, a sound that made Orison think of trains blew through as well. Though it seemed a faded and nearly forgotten thing, the young mage thought of a dark and terrifying force of nature known as a tornado. Such a thing would have been unheard of to the boy that Orison had been before awakening but the woodsman had experienced them a time or two throughout his seasoned life.


    "Fingers of God are much more common in the kingdom to the south of us in the spring and fall. But even there, it''s usually the workings of some mad warlock hell bent on ruin. The church will have another reason to root out a little more sedition this summer with that as an excuse, The Lord preserve us," the woodsman said bitterly.


    Orison said thoughtfully, "First, bandits that are a little too organized and well armed. Now, ''Fingers of God''. Out of morbid curiosity, Dirk, is the kingdom possibly preparing for war with this southern kingdom?"


    Dirk chuckled. "I''m hardly a fount of current news on world affairs but I would think not. Now, the church? It''s been stretching its hands widely and in all direction for years. When I was just a small boy myself, it was only one of a few but it has become the one and only true for this land. Perhaps it has grown too great for only this land to contain any longer and desires to grow."


    Duran grew concerned. "What are the chances of a less than law abiding press gang waiting at the end of this trail?"


    The woodsman was about to answer flippantly when he stopped to consider more seriously.


    He didn''t answer so much as grab his things and suit up. "My apprentice is down in Raft Town for the damn festival. If war IS brewing or the kingdom has been blackmailed into covering the Grand Cardinal''s pimpled backside, the apprentice I''ve trained since he was eight would be a f***ing five silver catch. Got a proposition for you two.


    "Might be nothing and I was planning on looking the other way at any rate. But if you could see to giving me some backup to bring my boy out of any trouble he could be in, I''ll return the favor. I know a rafter who''ll get you to a riverboat captain that charges fair and knows how to keep his mouth shut. It''s not an accusation. It''s an offer."


    Duran said, "If you want us to make good time on back trails, we can''t take Abigale."


    Orison looked at Duran sharply and said, "There''s a broken down distiller in the saddlebags! That''s worth a small fortune AND it''s a practical way for a person with a good recipe to earn one."


    The woodsman frowned and said, "I''ve got a gold to spare."


    The soldierly young man said, "Done."


    The young mage sighed and followed as they walked out into the pelting rain.

 257 The Magician 15

    Duran rolled his eyes. "I told you not to name her. You don''t even like horses."


    When they entered Raft Town, all seemed in place. The festival was in full swing. And from a distance, people were acting no different than they should be. That had lowered the tension somewhat.


    As they got closer, however, eyes were subtly tighter. A few older folks didn''t seem very ''festive'' at all. In fact, a few that were subtly being directed to stay off the streets were looking like their world had ended.


    In the dancing square, a beady eyed bishop was overseeing the affair while a couple of clergy members roamed the streets, scrutinizing for malcontents. It didn''t take long to spot that the majority of the ''young men'' doing the courting and dancing were temple guards out of uniform. Some even seemed to be doing so with the eagerness one would expect at such a festival.


    As one such temple guard, posing as a reveler, began making his way to the three, Orison flashed the enamel badge at a distance. The man looked disgruntled and disappointed but he went back to help maintain the facade. It was worse than was originally anticipated. This wasn''t a press gang for kingdom defense. It was one for a ''holy'' war.


    The woodsman cursed under his breath. "Those b*****ds set up the festival as a honey trap for able young men."


    The young mage said, "Keep focus. Where''s the jail?"


    Dirk lead them through the town, past the center. The few who took note of their passing were stopped by the flash of light off an enameled badge.


    That was, until a passing clergyman stopped them. "What is your business here?"


    Putting on his best ''noble'' sneer. Orison began pacing a circle around the man as he said, "Unlawful seizure of a noble''s property."


    The clergyman gestured for a guard who WAS in uniform as he said, "We merely are appealing to the common masses for aid against wickedness."


    Continuing to pace, Orison bellowed, "Appeals rarely require manacles or barred cells. This is thuggery dressed in falsehood. The people here will remember it for all days and a cancer will spread within. Wrath is the domain of the Lord and war the king. What you do is blasphemy and against the laws of this kingdom as well."


    The Bishop rushed over, wide eyed and ravening, "This is the Lord''s Will. HOW DARE-"


    With supernatural speed, Orison rushed up and punched the bishop in the face with near lethal force.


    Duran crouched low and muttered, "About time."


    With a crushed fistful of lavender, Orison yelled, "SLEEP HERITICS!"


    A large portion of the rushing temple guards collapsed into unconsciousness as invisible power radiated out from the circle the young mage had drawn with his feet.


    Tossing the keys on the bishop''s body to the woodsman, Orison kept the guards'' focus on himself as he started bellowing, "False prophets will burn in the hottest hell! Wrath belongs to God! War belongs to kings!"


    As Duran weaved through the temple guardsmen, making goose eggs bloom on heads with a hilt pommel, the young mage bobbed and weaved through the ones after Them continuing to shout the slogan ''Wrath belongs to God. War belongs to kings''.


    Once the townsfolk were emboldened by their surprise champion, parents of those who were detained to be dragged off for church conscription took it up. Several minutes later, a slavering bishop was shouting damnation and heresy as he was being tied to a pole at the center of the festival bonfire. Towards the end, it had turned bloody.


    From a distance, some temple guards attempted to provide cover for fleeing clergy with arrow fire, killing some townsfolk. To keep from the town turning into a murderous mob that would kill indiscriminately, the young mage had offered the bishop up as a sacrificial black sheep. To keep from anyone in the town having the man''s blood on their hands, Orison set fire to it Themselves.


    They whispered in the bishop''s ear. "In the game of heretics, the one who screams louder and carries the bigger fist wins."


    Stuffing a dirty rag into the bishop''s mouth, the young mage jumped down as the flames began spreading upwards.


    A new slogan was shouted by the angry people. "False prophets burn in the hottest hell."


    Aside from a bit of coin that They robbed from the bishop and clergy in secret, all the armor and weapons were confiscated from the temple guards and given to the unlawful conscripts as compensation.


    As the Bishop burned to death behind Them, Orison loudly addressed the mob and the subdued temple guards equally. "False prophets have infiltrated the church, turning the Lord of Light''s message of love and forgiveness into damnation, hatred and cruelty. They take pleasures at leisure in rich apartments, mutilating the genitals of children so that they will sing sweetly for them while guzzling wine and fornicating!


    "People! It is the duty of every devout believer to not only stomp heresy out from among the herd but also the shepherds as well! Those older among you, especially those of the order of temple guards, I ask you; Is this the church you remember praying in? Is this the message you entrusted your heart and soul to?


    "Turn a blind eye to the iniquity no longer! False prophets are greater in wickedness than even a devil for they wear the garments of righteousness and deceive the virtuous into sin! They force the faces of the devout into wickedness through fear! Pursue them with vengeance and restore the Lord of Light to the heart of his church before he turns his back on you in sadness and SHAME!"


    "The Finger of God was a wake up call. Suffer false prophets no more! Return war and tax to the king and the church back to salvation, never to stain its hands in the sinful and secular world again!"


    As They finished the crest of Their speech, Orison brought a mage light into existence behind his head and augmented it with ultraviolet brilliance. "The deceivers came to force you into the yoke of their false graven image, their dark idol. Throw it aside and raise your arms in prayer to YOUR god, the Lord of Light in YOUR heart. THAT is your TRUE god and his love lives and breathes into the world through YOU!"


    A strange connection began to form between the young mage and the crowd. They knew immediately what had happened. The mysterious power of existence that only mortals could make began seeping into Them. It was unwanted, a form of structure poison.


    Gathering it up, the young mage targeted one among the temple guards that was part of the flow and channeled it at them, "Sir, I dare not claim the mantle for I am not ordained but the Lord of Light dwells powerfully within you. Go forth and drive the devil out of his house!"


    With a swipe of magical power, Orison freed the man and returned an unclaimed set of equipment to him.


    The rather plain man in his mid twenties said in astonished fervor, "I can feel him! I can feel the Lord in my heart!"


    Orison said, "Remember that you are no more than a man but the Lord can raise the low and humble up high. He brings the high, low and humbles them as well. With humility and praise in your heart, lay a hand upon the girl there who was pierced by an arrow of wickedness fired from the hand of a poor deceived man of virtue."


    The girl in question had a wound in her arm the arrow had pierced cleanly through. It had left a nasty hole that would have made her arm weak and feeble long after it had healed on its own. Shakily the man approached her and timidly placed a hand on her wound as she looked up into the man''s face with pain, sadness and fear.


    The man''s eyes shook from the welling of sympathy such a look evoked. There was little doubt that the image of her face in that moment would remain in the man for the rest of his life. Channeling the mysterious essence tainted by several dozen different people''s versions of the ''lord'' in their hearts, Orison used the man as a pseudo avatar and healed the girl''s arm through him.


    As soon as it was done, the girl''s mother checked the arm and started crying and praising with broken words. The channel of essence was filling with more structure poison Orison was desperately shunting to the temple guard. It was in that moment, inspiration struck.


    The young mage made the light behind him flare in greater brilliance before flickering and fading away. "People! I have sinned in my heart, the sin of pride. Chosen of the Lord... You, man! I have sinned and no longer feel him move through me. Take my sin as lesson and guard your heart from pride as you guard the church from corruption.


    "The Lord moves through you now. Though I no longer have the right, nay privilege, of requesting anything. I beseech you. Lead these people in prayer and do not let their faith down as I have just done."


    With a last small burst of magical effort, Orison cast an augmented mage light on the temple guard''s helmet as the man lead a stammering prayer.


    To aid the effort, the young mage said, "Behold, the grace that has fled me has found a brighter and worthier heart to shine in. I am shamed and humbled. Now, I shall seek to find redemption in the south. For however long or short it shall be, I will spread truth there til I have found my way again."


    While They went around, giving subtle nudges and some mental sleight of hand to move people still using Them as a focus onto the ''righteous'' newborn paladin, the woodsman asked Duran, "What manner of creature is your friend?"


    The soldierly young man said simply, "The Magician."


    The man looked puzzled.


    After a huff, Duran added, "A magician makes great effort seem effortless while making the effortless seem hard. They distract with one hand while the other works its magic. They make the illusionary real while turning the real into illusion. Orison is no different, except... think bigger, much bigger."


    With a mental nudge and forcing the last of the tainted essence into the paladin, They shared spirit sight with him. The last of the essence was spent to make that sight visible to all where the paladin looked. The dark, the light and the gray were revealed briefly before fading away.


    No longer the focus of attention, They returned to Duran, the woodsman and a shaken young man that must have been the woodsman''s apprentice. "Alright, where''s this raft guy? The barbecue''s just begun but I, for one, ain''t hungry."


    The woodsman pointed at a thin, ropy muscled man in his mid thirties who was chanting the slogans Orison spouted earlier while another clergy member was tied more securely and tossed on the bonfire.


    "Oh... Maybe you can talk him over? I don''t want to get pulled into that stuff again. I just managed to get out of it," the young mage said.


    The woodsman looked at the gruesome revelries and shuddered before steeling himself and getting the rafter.


    "So, you going down south to fight the good fight the right way? Sorry about that fall from grace thing. Pride can get to the best of us... Tell you what. This trip''s on me but you''ll still have to pay the river boat captain. He''s a good man but he ain''t no believer. Pity he''s headed for Hell but we got an agreement and he''s an old friend of mine. His afterlife is his business as far as I''m concerned," the rafter said.


    Orison nodded sagely, "We were granted free will for a reason. Without the freedom to choose, devotion is merely faithless servitude."


    The man eyeballed Them. "You sure you ain''t still got a spark of that grace left in you?"


    The young mage smiled wryly, "No more than anyone else. If you ever find yourself called to serve, don''t get a swollen head about it. The big guy don''t like it."


    As the two ''climbers'' loaded up on the raft, the hand-made paladin quickly made his way over.


    Orison muttered under his breath, "Damn."


    The temple guard turned militant religious leader said, "Would that I could join you on your peaceful crusade of redemption. I am certain that the Lord''s light will- May the Lord''s light find you no matter what darkness you may traverse."


    A mark emblazoned itself onto Orison''s soul faster than the desolate realm''s ability to grab it.


    The man''s eyes cleared of the brief fog that clouded them and looked at the young mage in smiling, fanatical wonder. "The Lord of Light isn''t done with you yet. I await your triumphant return to the fold!"


    They chuckled bitterly. "Well, you''ve got your work cut out for you. I hope the Lord of Light that dwells in your heart today, is the one that finds it''s way into the heart of the church. A dark idol parading hatred as love will be clawed to the abyss itself with time."


    The man smiled wider, "Then, it seems I am assured victory."


    Orison shook Their head. "Humble heart. Victory isn''t assured with faith alone. It requires a great deal more than that."


    After being tortured for words of wisdom a few more minutes, the paladin finally left to join his flock in making preparations to release surrounding villages from the clutches of the false prophets. All the while, Duran looked at Orison with concern. He was aware of what happened but wasn''t free to discuss openly. The raft wasn''t big enough for privacy.


    An hour or so down the tributary, the rafter said, "How much of a difference do you think it''ll make? I''m kind of scared I''m going to come back to a burned down village."


    With Orison pretending contemplation to fish for gold sand, Duran said, "Martyr or leader, there''s going to be blood. He''s got a few old foxes by his side. It takes a little darkness to know it but only time will tell if the guy can bend or if he''ll snap. Either way, there''s going to be change."


    Sighing, the young mage couldn''t help but add, "The important thing here is that the church is stepping out of line and usurping noble authority. The nobles aren''t any bunch of do gooders themselves and will take any chance they can get to snatch some authority back. As long as the intent to divide church from statecraft stays clear in their message, our newly minted paladin will have strong support."


    The rafter look slightly scandalized. "If the Lord isn''t in the hearts of our secular leaders, how will our country-"


    "Spiritual affairs focus on the afterlife. A noble''s DUTY is to the welfare of people while they are alive! Let''s leave it at that. I''m all for the idea that nobles should be ''noble of spirit'' as well but clergy needs to be looking for heavenly rewards not fighting in politics for fatter earthly ones."


    Duran cut in. "I can see where this is going. Before you get into ''better technology is more important than a bigger population'' or a deep and confusing state craft speech with our raft poling benefactor, why don''t you focus on the state of your soul and leave the man be before you give him...and me a headache."


    Orison gave him a superficial hurt and reproachful look before returning to fishing for gold sand.


    Giving the rafter a wry smile, Duran said, "Trust me on this. You''re better off leaving it there. He''s got more opinions than time to express them."


    The man sighed and said, "Night rafting is tedious. Good conversation makes it pass faster but rest makes it pass the quickest. I''m used to looking over slumbering malcontents and glad for the peace.


    "I''ll have you there a bit after ninth bell and the Red Dock Inn will take stragglers until eleven this time of year. But no matter when you get there, the keeper''s wife knocks on doors seventh bell sharp. You''re more than ten minutes later handing in your key, she takes another silver or you don''t get breakfast."


    They didn''t intend to sleep and Duran did get a lot of information about local affairs while the young mage fashioned Their first gold coin replica. Without meaning to, the drift of water and the weariness of all the day had brought caused the young mage to drift into involuntary trance. With a dream of drowning, Orison clawed to consciousness in a bed at the sound of a sharp rapping on the door.


    Looking at the large bed, Their head ached abominably. As They took in the presence of two young women in various stages of undress in the bed with Them, the young mage noticed Duran on the floor with most of the bedding and a third young woman weakly protesting over her position as a body pillow.


    "What in the flap jacks happened, last night!? I remember jack all!" Orison protested at Their sleeping friend.

 258 The Magician 16

    The woman still half grappled by Duran said, "That was nice, if a tad stuffy but we do not have time for more than that today. Release me so that I may dress."


    The one nearest Orison said, "The price of our aid was the forgetting of what we have done to aid you. It seems that our company in revelry was of some aid to you as well. More is the pity you cannot remember that... We must anon, kindly gentlemen."


    The young mage said, "Asking for a name may be rude but is there a name we might know you or your works by?"


    The eldest smiled mysteriously as she wrapped the other two in power. Within moments, they had seeped into the floorboards.


    Duran activated his suit and climbed out from the covers. "Zesta river, the previous chosen and the current chosen mortal of her heritage. Over the years, Zesta River awoke a spirit and channeled the faith of those that worshiped her into a mortal. When she reaches a certain point, she''ll retreat into the elemental plane of water and leave the previous priestess as the new Zesta River."


    Orison contemplated and then added, "Shamanism has shifted to more structured religious practices. There''s only the residual faith people give to the river their livelihood comes from and maybe a few old school adherents. That mortal girl will likely be the last priestess who has any real chance of elemental ascendance but she''ll probably end up being the last spirit of the Zesta River."


    Duran nodded. "And there''s nothing wrong with that. She loves... people more than power."


    "What can you tell me of what happened?" the young mage asked.


    The soldierly young man wore a self satisfied smile and said, "The things I could tell you a lot about aren''t the kind of details you''d be interested in but our raft poling friend is alright. I''m thinking the higher ups of the church threw everything they could, including the kitchen sink, at you."


    The young mage sighed. "Despite how it looked when I got up, I don''t think I actually ended up having much ''fun''. Same for you?"


    A few shadowed pieces of dialog about how the gold sand dredging ''tickled'' and a bright flash of light accompanied by pain made the young mage mutter, "I was struck by lightning and unintentionally flirted with a river spirit trying to nab gold sand... fantastic."


    They rushed downstairs to keep from missing the ten minute deadline for free breakfast. The mood downstairs was solemn. Some of that was from next day regrets for people who were a part of the ''revelries'' that Orison couldn''t remember but some was from a different matter entirely.


    At first light, a set of temple guards and clergy attempted to do much the same that had happened upriver, having not heard the news. The were working off of a previous understanding only to realize that Red Dock wasn''t going to stand for it at all. Two clergy members only lived long enough to hear ''False prophets burn in the hottest hell.'' for the first time before being stoned to death by an army of peasants after the two holy men denied that war and taxes were solely the province of nobility.


    A third clergy member had wisely read the environment faster than his peers and was willing to ''pray over it'' before insisting on proceeding. He survived, along with his two temple guards who were briefed on ''the old gospel made new'' before being released to ''sin no more''. Without a mage and a fighting machine doing damage control, a handful of residents died and so did the temple guards who caused it.


    The difference in flavor was mostly due to it being marshaled by a landed knight who had vested interest in certain taxes clergy had been siphoning from Red Dock. Their rafting friend had turned upriver to go back home after dropping them off but the message he carried kept flowing downriver all night. It was likely that the message had spread to near the southern border. Each town had a post that was open to important news all night as a part of military defensive measures.


    A string of towns that had wealthy lesser nobles and large standing militias seeing a way to get some of ''their'' money back was a wildfire disaster for the church. The knights and barons hadn''t been too keen on the church dipping into military matters or growing a personal force either. Successful rebellions against spiritual authority and some local spiritual leaders not exactly against stepping away from military action was a recipe for quick reform or a civil war. Either way, Orison didn''t plan on getting involved again.


    Done with morning eats, the two climbers booked passage with the river boat captain recommended by the rafter. The man wasn''t overly happy to have them. The rafter had a damaged ride due to being involved with them but the captain was assured that it was a one time event and they would be away from church controlled area soon enough anyway.


    Duran commented after they had some space on the deck to themselves, "How sure ARE you that it was a one time event?"


    Orison said, "I don''t have memories but I do retain knowledge and understanding. I acquired a spiritual debt that was used to place the mark. I''m pretty sure the church tried to do something to me through it but it was my own attempts to remove it that allowed me to be open to that direct reprisal.


    "That colossal di- sunny guy is trying to put me in a catch-22. To remove it as it was intended, I''d have to do his work. But if I do, he can strengthen it as a blessing for my service. I feel like somebody tried to warn me about messing around with faith. Oh, well. What''s a journey without a few annoyances?"


    Duran said, " Good company or not, I''m concerned about not remembering what those river ladies did. Their ''aid'' shouldn''t have been necessary. I can see your over robe is still intact even though you were hit with... something."


    Orison shrugged. "For once, I don''t feel like overthinking it."


    A few hours later, the boat was getting close to its next stop when the young mage felt magic pings on the soul mark. "Clergy are trying to get a bead on me. I have a really nasty feeling about this. It didn''t dawn on me because I didn''t think a tier five would be this dumb but I think he wants to get me killed and snag a spiritually strong subordinate for cheap."


    The soldierly young man said, "If we fight, it''s going to get ugly for bystanders this time. A boat-to-land struggle isn''t an easy gap to cross quickly."


    "Then it looks like it''s time for a swim," They said.


    With a shout to the captain to not attempt rescue, the two suited up at the cost of some cheap commoner clothes and dove in. With the strength of the river current, a water sprite wasn''t a whole lot of help. But with the bit of augmentation the suits provided and what essence the duo had stored up, they made it to the other side with a low burning fatigue.


    "Is Find Objective picking up anything?" Duran asked.


    Orison said, "Two strong essence objects but neither have spacial flavor. One feels like a banked and warded leyline node a few miles west and the other''s too far away southwest to get more than a feel of old ritual magic."


    Duran said, "Southwest then. I want to feel like I''m headed towards something, not running away to avoid collateral damage."


    Laughing a little maliciously, the young mage said, "We''ll head to it slowly."


    Half a day later, they were heading into the edges of another wooded area with no sign of nearby civilization. "I don''t get it. I''ve been pinged a total of fifteen times. We''ve been practically strolling. Hell, I stopped to investigate some of the materials for that gruit beer the woodsman made. Are they trying to find me or annoy me to death?"


    "Does that help with the debt? If they kept doing it, could it cancel the debt and let you remove the mark?" Duran asked.


    Orison shook Their head. "It''s only being used as a scry target. If they actually tried to reach me through it-"


    An arrow shot from an incredibly long distance nearly took the young mage''s life instantly. They could feel the tip scratching at the surface of Their beating heart. It seemed that they''d reached a level of material ''realism'' that the suit was no longer the bullet catcher that it once was but still boasted decent protection.


    With practiced ease, Duran provided nearly 180 degree cover while Orison pulled out the arrow and slapped a heal. The soldierly young man did some slapping of his own, eight arrows worth. It most certainly wasn''t coming from behind them and was quite surprising for a number of reasons.


    Duran shouted. "As a courtesy, I''ll give you one chance to explain before I kill all four of you."


    He was answered with another three arrows. As soon as Orison had some decent cover, he was off like an arrow himself. The young mage was fuzzy on details but once Duran had marked someone to defend, anyone who attacked his defense mark got a vengeance mark and the soldierly young man could sense it for miles. It was never a good idea to dig into the underpinning of a friend''s concepts but They were fairly sure some karmic law of some kind was involved.


    Twenty minutes later, the young mage was running the last of comfortable reserves on some light healing for Duran as they relaxed in a wood cottage stocked with far too many supplies. A small amount of investigation revealed a missive from the kingdom to the east.


    "Trying to rile up a squabble with southern neighbors by posing as southern kingdom soldiers... posing as bandits. Not a half bad ploy for early medieval tactics," Orison said.


    Seeing no reason not to, they decided to spend the night in the conveniently offered cottage before resuming their trek the next day. That night the two both experienced nightmares, a rare occurrence for those who didn''t sleep normally. What was revealed wasn''t good news.


    After sharing what they saw to each other, Duran said, "My Medea and your Grandma Georgia are in agreement. We are zero sum. This world is part of our original planned reality but it is isolated. There''s no way off of it available in it. We''d have to wait until one of us could planar travel. That''s... going to take a long time."


    The young mage frowned. "And in that time, whatever interfered to place us here has been hatching additional zero sum scenarios. Considering our awakening was delayed by over a decade to begin with, we''re pretty screwed already."


    Duran looked so frustrated, tears were forming at the corners of his eyes. "How hard do we have to try before we can prevail!?"


    Orison remained in thoughtful silence.


    The soldierly young man''s expression hardened into steely determination. "We have a rip cord, a last chance for when we reach a dead end. They aren''t supposed to be used unless we die with no hope of resurrection. I don''t like my option much and I''ll have to take a world out to do it but...


    "Listen, there''s some things I didn''t allow myself to forget, just in case. There''s something called the point of spiritual origin, the place and time where your soul core first formed. I can''t say much about it beyond that but you can find yours. If you choose to do it and there''s a person or entity there with a scary aura, keep going to any time before your spiritual origin point and reenter reality.


    "That will erase you but ceasing to exist is better than what they have planned for us. I don''t know much about that either. But what I DO know is that entity is our enemy and if it catches you there, you''ll become another one of its minions. If it ends up being at my own, that''s what I plan to do."


    With a bitter smile, Orison said, "So, it''s split and run. Since we aren''t strong enough to fight it and we can''t outrun it, we go different directions and hope we can get far enough apart that it can only catch one of us."


    With a cold face, the soldierly young man said, "And the survivor avenges the one that doesn''t, yes... It''s grim logic but I''d rather one of us had the ability to live on and make them pay. If not for that, I would have stuck with you to the very end. I''m not afraid to die and..."


    Orison sighed, "I know... Reese loved you too. She pretty much tried to emotionally blackmail me behind your back but it''s hard to be mad when I understand."


    Eyes softening some, Duran said, "I know it''s a strange thing to wonder about right before we try to figure out how to die or kill each other in a way we can ''live'' with. But, do you think cultivators have it easier? I know it all balances out pretty even, as a whole, but do you think their love issues are easier?"


    Orison chuckled. "I don''t know about EASIER but it''s definitely more simple and straight forward. A soul craves experience as a whole where a single living body craves much more specifically. They have their exceptions, I''m sure. But a ''one species, one gender, one path'' ideology, it sounds fairly appealing sometimes. It''s only ''grass is always greener on the other side'' BS, though."


    Unstrapping his sword, Duran asked, "How do you think we should do this?"


    The young mage smiled. "We don''t need to. The river ladies opened up a channel to siphon off our life force. They only intended to nibble off a bit for the sake of their mortal member but I say we open the floodgate and let her have it all. She''s got her elders to catch what she can''t handle."


    "What about your mark from that god?" the soldierly young man asked.


    Orison smiled wickedly. "She''s got her elders to CATCH what she CAN''T handle."


    Hours later, they laid shoulder to shoulder on the cottage bed as church officials closed in on them, talking about the adventures they would have had if things had turned out differently. Unnaturally gathering storm clouds unleashed furious lightning strikes on the cottage to reveal two piles of dust quickly patting down and mixing on the soaked and musty mattress.


    ***


    They didn''t know who they were but They knew Their mission, find where it all began. Like following a strange river that branched out widely and returned to a single source, They traversed the complicated and enigmatic life that was Theirs. Along the way, bits and pieces of useful information began piling up. To make room, They shunted away anything that wouldn''t enrich Them.


    Some events defined Them or were necessary as reference for why this or that understanding or piece of knowledge worked. Those it kept, though it didn''t particularly want those pieces. To make absolute efficient usage, They pushed and packed those unfortunately necessary emotionally charged bits into the deepest recesses of memory keeping consciousness.


    As They neared the beginning, They spread Their senses out warily. In Their current state, They were like an instinct sensitive animal. And even though it looked safe to enter, They knew it was a trap. A strange bit of essence wafting around the ''other place'' They were in would be easily missed but They had sensed it all the more.


    Like a wild animal that would rather chew its own leg off and bleed to death than be captured by a trap, They suicidally pushed past the essence charged rock and single spiritually awakening wildflower that had given birth to Their soul. For a moment, a dark and hypnotic voice reached out playfully to suggest that being another of its avatars wouldn''t be such a bad thing. It claimed that existing as an extension of itself was better than being nothing at all.


    They were tempted to agree but from the unwanted emotional part of Themselves welled an intense hatred that wouldn''t allow it. With a mental sigh, They let go of the possibility of existing and continued past the point of origin along the branches of Their life. That should have been it but it wasn''t.


    Unmoored, they drifted along an invisible line. Unseen by any spiritual sense, there was only a sense of desolate gravity to it. More than once They had strayed off the invisible line to flounder frantically in the unknown to find it again. After a very long ''distance'' of time-space, that ceased to be an issue.


    Somehow, They had stumbled upon a ''self'' that had existed before the ''self'' They knew. As They traveled down this new ''old'' line, They slowly felt Themselves begin to unravel under a great strain. They were no longer passively being pulled but had to struggle to get closer.


    One piece of Their ''old'' self was collected. Then there were two pieces. A third larger piece was the limit that They could endure or risk falling to nothingness anyway. A coreless soul kept unraveling by boundless regret and hatred wrapped itself around Them and pushed them higher, allowing Them to claim a fourth piece even greater than the last three combined.


    "My name was Piran. Like you, I destroyed myself rather than become that thing''s finger puppet. We were one once and now it has come full circle. Take what you can of me that is useful and discard the rest as I would have done to you with time.


    "Whatever these pieces are that you have found, I hope you can use them to make that thing suffer. Steal, pillage and salt the fields of its life. It may well be beyond our reach but it''s interests aren''t. I beg you to ruin it if destruction isn''t possible. Frustrate it so dearly that it has no choice but to look for more fertile fields in some other corner of the endless outside."

 259 The Magician 17

    The confused entity wore the body of a young man with ill ease. It had another shell out there in the ''not-when'' but the slowly disintegrating soul They had encountered in the ''not-anything'' had unintentionally gifted them a much better one. It was a body sculpted from the best balance of magic and martial training.


    Its veins coursed with two useful and harmonized spiritual bloodlines that pooled in a second pseudo-soul, resting in the spiritual seat of the body''s mind. It was tough and resilient. Free of hidden injuries or toxins, it was as well conditioned as it could be. The myriad additional spiritual and essence connections would take time for the soul to adapt to and utilize but once it did, the reserves and speed of access would be immensely superior to the entity''s prepared shell.


    A brief feeling of remorseful sympathy bloomed before being crushed under the assault of returning physical sensation. Tuning out the sensory overload, the entity scanned itself. The hair would shine like burnt copper dipped in fresh blood under the sun. The symmetry of bone, muscle and softer features held merely enough flaws not to be perceived as fake or uncanny to the faintly sensitive. It wasn''t the body of a human. It was the vessel of a predator that fed on human emotion, that reveled in taking pleasures or toying with human lives.


    As the entity opened it''s eyes, the only feature similar to its prepared shell, Caribbean blue irises shown with faint luminescence. The eyes that were a small connection to the true soul that now possessed them, hid deeply in a multiple layered space within the vessel''s chest. A nesting doll of increasingly violent and alien folds of space lead to that soul, a small and black opalescent one.


    Hidden still further within, a partially reformed tower withstood the powerful blasts of occasional chaos created lightening strikes. The broken power of those strikes, filtered and collected into seven layered domes, each attuned to a separate essence. A portion for the space, some for the soul and body but most for the desolate tower slowly mending itself and the profound laws within it.


    They visually took in the small handful of people expelling gray and wet substances from every opening of their bodies. While doing so, They gathered what little memory and personality They owned, fitting it together like puzzle pieces. With a numb horror, the entity realized that the pieces of Their ''old'' self They had taken in were to be the future core of worlds and the birthplace of the wills that governed them.


    They muttered, "In the shadowy state I was in, just crossing the border would have erased me, much less chase pieces of me down... What was I?"


    One of the recovering people, a touch better off than the rest answered, "I used to ask myself that question every day to remind me of what I lost and to not lose myself to what I had become. The only meaningful answer left after many years was that it doesn''t matter what you were. Who, what you are now and will be, are far more important."


    The speaker was a pink skinned and slightly demonic parody of vulgar femininity that was becoming more human looking and realistically proportioned by the moment. A bull beast-kin man stood up, displaying a few slightly unrealistic proportions of his own that weren''t going anywhere. Nearby, a panicked young cat beast-kin was cradling his head and trying to block sound as if it was too much for him.


    The bull man plastered on a peaceful smile and offered a hand in greeting to the woman. "Hi, I''m Pete, male pros... performer."


    The woman smiled wryly and took the large hand. "Boca... and I have no room to judge people for their past. A pleasure to meet you, Pete."


    She turned to the entity wearing the red headed young man and added, "And you are?"


    "In the process of trying to figure that out," They answered.


    Cole, who took on a touch of extra maturity while no one was watching, said with slight bitterness, "You''re Orison. You look and smell different but those things don''t matter to something like you anyway. Please heal my head... I feel like it''s going to start boiling or swell til it bursts my skull."


    It was the entity''s turn to smile wryly.


    As They walked over to accommodate the request, They said, "I''m nearly as much a man named Piran as I am the Orison you knew. And far more, another whose memories are next to nonexistent. Just like you are mostly equally two different selves. But more the person you once were yet, have little recollection of. It is as much lie as truth to claim one over the rest.


    "Call me Oscen or Sonny, if you like. Hearing either of those names that mean prayer evoke feelings of sadness I''d rather put behind me... If any of you would be so kind as to satisfy a little of my curiosity, how did any of you end up in my key''s shadow space with me?"


    Cole and Pete looked lost but Boca smiled faintly and said, "I begged my former mistress for freedom. There were too many painful memories surrounding others under her rule and I had already worked off my spiritual debts. I think I was lost in a gray place for some time.


    "A lady named Cat said that she could rescue me but I would have to pledge a debt to her patron. Had I known it was... I''m glad to have accepted. And as far as wanting to distance yourself from the past, I understand all too well. It''s a pleasure to meet you, Oscen."


    Pete said, "Sounds about the same as it was for me. Well, I wasn''t in a gray place, though. My wife was possessed by the ghost of this dead Draconos lady and I tried to follow her through some sort of crack in the air she threw herself through. "This is going to sound weird but I feel like I should know you. Your name, the old one you don''t like anymore, it tickles the back of my mind. Oh well. Looks like we could all use a do over. Put ''er there, Sonny."


    The man put his meaty paw out for another hand shake. The young mage decided to make the best of things and took it. They wondered why there was a subtle feeling of guilt towards the man and chalked it up to the myriad of things They forgot.


    Attempting to cover himself for modesty''s sake or to hide stirring interest caused by his covert ogling of Boca, Cole said, "Am I the only person who even cares that we''re... not decent?"


    The other three looked each other over for a second and then a contagious chuckle started. It seemed that Cole really was the only one who cared. Due to life and environment, Pete and Boca had lost the meaning of the word shame from their personal dictionary. And as for Oscen, a body WAS clothing. Not that They had forgotten what it was for or stopped caring about such things altogether.


    "I would conjure some but it would be made with shadow stuff. Once we step past the dark mist completely, it would lack enough power of existence to survive. If we''re fortunate, either there will be something available to use or the stuff my inner realm is about to regurgitate might have something we can make do with," the young mage said reassuringly.


    While they waited for the dark mist to slowly dissipate, Oscen had them talk among themselves and just listed. Each had their own place in the grand scheme and a story to tell. While They absorbed the information, the desolate realm released the items it didn''t want or couldn''t use that had been dredged on the group''s journey through the void to whatever destination the key could take them.


    Oscen said, "This isn''t easy... The reason you could be picked up the way you were was because you are temporarily like myself. You have become cut loose from existence but not erased. Cole and Pete, for you two, it''s for the same reason. Boca, I don''t honestly know why you are.


    "Osomo, the planet, was erased. It never existed. Cole, that time you spent on that egg shaped thing after being rescued from Sek. I know it didn''t seem like long but it happened BEFORE Osomo''s branches were cut from reality. That other short bit of life memories, it holds a key to climbing in it. You have a future if you want it.


    You were place-marked by my key and no one was abandoning you. Everything else would only be excuses on why things didn''t happen the way they were supposed to. And now, even I don''t have answers to give."


    The feline young man only looked lost for a few seconds before he said, "What happened to everyone? Did they get erased too?"


    "No. Their souls would have went elsewhere to live different lives. That''s it. They''re different people but they weren''t erased just because a world never happened," They said reassuringly.


    Boca said, "I think I know why I became what you''re suggesting. I was...and maybe still am, part of a greater being. A true outsider was born from me....my stuff-essence. I think that I can''t be unmade because they can''t be... I was only granted form and life again out of that being''s gratitude and pity but... I''m glad to exist."


    Cole laughed with a slight edge of hysteria. "It''s all so much... too much but maybe that''s okay. Boca, right? At least we can agree on that. My life was crap anyway... I''m glad to exist."


    Everyone turned to Pete.


    The bull man had set down and looked like someone had cut his strings before he said, "I went along with everything on the small hope that I might see my boy again... Without that, what is there for me? I was a waste of a man but that boy was the one thing that gave my life any real meaning. the one and only redeeming thing I''ve done in my miserable life I didn''t hate myself for was trying to be a father."


    The bull man looked up at Oscen. "If I was willing to give anything, pay any price I was capable of paying, could you save my son?"


    The young mage said, "He might not need saving... I won''t spend too much of my conduit''s power but I can look through you and see if I can sense the kid''s current life through you. It''s a long shot but-"


    Pete begged Oscen with his eyes, desperate for something to give him strength.


    The young mage placed a hand on the man''s head and felt Their intent slide in with nearly no resistance at all. It took next to no effort to find the boy''s current fate because the small spark of its protean soul was bound up in the bull man''s own. As soon as the mist cleared, the pressure of the reality the group would be stepping into would crush and fuse it back into Pete''s own.


    They wanted to lie but found that They blurted out the truth when They tried. "He''s a part of your soul. I''m sure he''ll eventually be bor- fused back into it as soon as we step out of the mist."


    As Pete poured everything he had into trying to convince Oscen into helping him GIVE everything he had to his son, the scene froze. Keita stepped into the misty space beside someone who looked like an agreeable blend between Jay Cotton and Cray.


    A ghostly figure constructed itself from the mist itself and said in Orison''s voice, "Absolutely diabolical. Did Piran even escape that b*****d? Pete would get me to weaken my conduit to save his son and that THING would have hooks in me because I took the Piran bate. You know what? It doesn''t matter. I know what I have to do now."


    Keita said, "Alright kiddo. That''s enough time buying, though. Most of the people you''ve helped have risen and fallen into different lives, forgetting you completely or have given up on waiting and moved on."


    Jay/Cray said, "This might be the last time I had to see you. Winter and I... you know that-"


    The shadowy Orison raised Their hand. "The memories fade. Lives move on. I love you both and hope the two of you can can forgive ME for not being able to let go of my messiah complex."


    The archer smiled wryly. "I see that you started scraping the bottom of the barrel here. You even picked up one of Duran''s charity cases too."


    The ghostly Orison sighed. "Well, he''s a shared project. If I hadn''t picked Cole up, there''s too great a chance that the b*****d would before Duran could get to him."


    Keita chuckled darkly. "That insane corrupter and destroyer is more truly your grandparent than any mortal one could ever be. Being the cause of your total destruction and hounding your spiritual resurrection to oblivion is how they show Their love for you."


    Orison rolled Their ghostly eyes and said, "Yeah, yeah. I was a flying spaghetti monster that fell in love with the idea of being a people and the granddad didn''t approve... Hey, I''ve kept family tradition alive just fine. I''ve orchestrated the murder of my youngest sibling multiple times. Its not my fault Gramps Gnarly keeps forcing me to break the laws of causality, undoing my hard work."


    Keita released her anger under the effort of Orison''s forced joviality. "A literal key as your ''key'' and a literal tower as your climber''s ''tower'', could you get any more tongue in cheek?"


    The ghostly young ''ancient'' mage said, "A magician keeps the props simple in appearance to better fool and awe their audience with the complexity hidden within them."


    The obsidian elf shook her head in exasperation. "Blinding with brilliance and baffling with BS the whole way... I''ll use my avatar to take Pete someplace low dimensional enough for things to turn out well for him and help Cat find any possible stragglers. She didn''t have the courage to say it to your face but she''s retiring after that.


    "It might only be a technicality but being more powerful than her boss is embarrassing for her. She was capable of becoming a pact patron herself a long time ago but stuck around to help out for sentimental reasons. I think she might have had a crush on you but that ship''s sailed a long time ago."


    Orison looked at her with mild surprise. "She''s awakened her domain?"


    As she began fading from view, she said, "For nearly a human lifespan, her personal time. If you hadn''t been so greedy with the broadness of your concepts, you would have shocked everyone with your speed. Now, I think you''ll be lucky to even have a glimmer of a chance to become tier six at all."


    Orison said, "Oh no. My problem will be keeping the tower from forcing me to ascend faster than my concepts can keep up with. I''ve been dragging out my time in tier four, learning and absorbing as much law as I can because once I awaken that domain... If I don''t rise to the challenge, I''m done for in a way no one can help with."


    With a worried voice, she said, "Because of what you have become, I can''t see your future with the kaleidoscope anymore. Please... please be safe, as safe as you can be. We can''t reach you where you''re going next."


    Unable to physically embrace Their one time mother, they rested a chill and spectral hand on her cheek. "For better or worse, it''s time for us all to move on. Send my love to dad and tell him I''m sorry for being so unfilial."


    ***


    Al sat back in his chair, swigging a beer. He was careful to play out the last hour exactly as he had before. Although it was easy enough to keep up the act, the vein in his head that slightly wiggled with unnatural movements from time to time, as it weakened, were hard to ignore. It took some maneuvering to get Nomy back in his apartment and into the pile of his ex-wife''s stuff while making it seem perfectly natural to do so but he had.


    As he sightlessly mashed buttons on one side with his knee and reached for Nomy with the other hand, he thought, "And the Oscar goes to..."


    A half a second before the hermit would arrive to take Nomy from the ''dead'' Al''s hands, the man made a miraculous recovery. And using the book with the Entanglement key, dragged the outer god larva nearly fully into reality before cutting it to metaphorical ribbons with Nomy. With a quarter second to spare, he merged with the spiritual shreds of Piran and sent all the goodies that got pulled into Al''s world with the ''little brother'' , into an inner space.


    As the old hermit appeared, the man was faced with a much different scenario that he thought he would. There were no traces of impossible geometries in the air. Nomy was on the verge of violent protest and the larval stage outer god corpse had been transformed into traditional Middle Eastern cuisine. Al lifted up a glass of aniseed tea and made a toasting gesture to the amused but slightly confused old man.


    Al said, "Have at it. This is all for you. Nomy, it''s alright, you crazy awesome book. Your dinner will be returned to you in just a moment. I''m forcing some light reading on a few confused peeps first... And there you go, two book shaped conduits for your dining pleasures."


    Pleasantries had been put on hold while the old man and the living book dug in like they were starved.


    Once the miasma conjured delicacies were polished off, including the fabricated decorations and tableware, the old man turned to Al. "All right. Color me impressed and sufficiently bribed. What do you want?"


    Al gave the old man a saintly smile and said, "A fresh start on the largest piece of me that still exists. And... thank you/shame on you and Nodens both for convincing a naive little flying spaghetti monster into running away from the family demolition business."


    The hermit snorted. "You''re not strong enough to reclaim it, now. It''s a fully developed reality with powerful protectors and a healthy ''will''. You''d only wound it some before you got kicked out or destroyed."


    Al laughed. "I''m not going there to wreck the place... much... I''m going there to learn."

 260 The Magician 18

    Looking around, he realized he was naked in a meadow with lingering traces of fat smeared on him. There was also a person with nearly emotionless eyes looking at him through the visor of a streamlined and slightly futuristic ''knight'' suit. Experimentally, he tried nodding at the person.


    The knight said, "You are temporarily safe and my reservoir is running low, patron. Please place me back in the inter-dimensional base for resupply. Current rate of resupply is approximately one second of operational power for two days time. Approximate time until full resupply is 169,000 years."


    The knight transformed into a glass chess piece. With little other option, the young mage summoned it back to the rest of the glass chess set laying somewhere in the tower. Once that strange encounter had ended, he suddenly had a flash of requesting to ''arrive; in a new world in such an environment. He had never felt so insecure.


    With the last vestiges of dark mist still lingering around himself from the law sealed key, he reached out and tried to pull whatever else nearby might have some lingering about them as well. Two familiar figures appeared along with a few items. Seeing that his two compatriots were barely clinging to life, he walked over to the troll carcass that was nearby.


    After collecting some still usable fat from its meager and emaciated midsection, he smeared the fat generously on the worse of their wounds. It ended up taking all the fat and exhausting attempts to keep it invigorated with his own power but Orison managed to barely get all the wounds closed and missing pieces regrown. As soon as they were stitched together well enough that moving wouldn''t make anything worse, he woke up Cole and a man he felt he should know, stamped with the remembered features of a Rogers family member.


    "Come on guys. I know you''re feeling weak and thirsty but I can only help with one of those right now," the young mage said as he conjured some water for them to drink.


    Cole, more than a little traumatized, numbly obeyed as he staggered to his feet.


    The Rogers man stood up and looked Orison over before hugging the stunned young mage. "Well, aren''t you a sight for sore eyes."


    Orison tapped the man''s back a couple of times before he said, "Don''t take this the wrong way because I definitely feel like I should know you... Who are you?"


    Smiling faintly, Adam added, "Am I that forgettable?"


    Orison was about to answer when he felt a spiritual message being sent to him through another person that he thought he should know but had forgotten, Rio. "Sorry about that. I was frantic after feeling the return of my little brother''s soul signature, I was too rough with my pull- you almost got them all killed!"


    The young mage replied angrily, "Aside from two other survivors, whoever else was left probably did get killed!"


    Defensively, the stranger replied through Rio, "It wasn''t all me! Boca couldn''t enter wherever it is you are. If I hadn''t created a small rent in your vessel, she would have been squeezed out of it in a paste!"


    Orison replied, enraged, "If there wasn''t a hole in my ''vessel'', she wouldn''t have been sensed and rejected, dipsh*t!... Look, I can sense that you could give two sh*ts less about our situation. What is it you actually want?"


    The voice cleared its mental throat. "I''ll exchange the spiritual debt Rio has towards you with equipment equal to its value. As a concession, as long as she doesn''t have a spiritual debt connection to you, I''ll take Boca with us and ensure advantageous reincarnation for the accidental deaths."


    While the mind of the young mage was being briefed on what occurred world side, he negotiated out the spiritual debts of Rio and Boca. He tried to be as kind as he could to the lady and worked out a ''secret knowledge'' share to release her. He felt like he dodged some kind of emotional bullet when he found out that Boca was once Jacob.


    World side, Orison said to the two, "Alright. Neither of you have to feel responsible for not being able to protect others when you weren''t even able to keep your own lives. I won''t ask how it played out and I don''t want to know who was there. Take some comfort in the knowledge that a minor god level power just promised to give them all a new and better life."


    Cole said, "When... if we get strong enough, we should return there someday. There''s not much revenge to have against metal golems but..."


    Adam nodded. "It would be insensitive to bring it up now but there''s other good reasons to return... If we can get to the point we could handle it."


    The young mage said, "WHEN that day comes, we will have no trouble finding this location again. We and even my conduit have bled all over this place..."


    Orison had to stop the conversation to listen to the instructions and trace out the ritual circle diagram mildly flash burned into his mind''s eye. After finishing it, he silently intoned a true name he instantly forgot by spiritual promise. For a brief moment the smoky impression of an unassuming but wet weather dressed person appeared within the circle. A package appeared in their hands and dropped to the ground as they faded from sight.


    Opening the package, the young mage took his share of gear before pointing the other two to what was theirs. Grudgingly, Orison had to admit that it was masterwork quality. Although the ''clothing'' was a ''one time every so often'' shifter set that worked off the impressions their ''host'' supplied them with, the weapons were custom made.


    Adam had supplied his soul bound symbiotic apparel with a streamlined tactical suit. The caster gun that was supplied with it had decent piercing power and was surprisingly discrete. His, like everyone else''s equipment, could be stored away and summoned out of his spiritual seat with a mere commanding thought.


    Cole was wearing something that looked somewhat similar to the Silent Order assassin''s garb Orison had gifted his brother Venito so long ago. As the young mage watched the feline young man test out the balance of his two new ''cat claw'' daggers, he wondered where Cole had been inspired enough to have that image. He chalked it up to defensive gear that had good mobility and was still worth wearing having a limited range of expression, no matter what the culture.


    As for himself, Orison once again sported the cloud-like over robe and dark minimalist clothing he''d been secretly missing for some time. The unassuming cane he carried was an interesting little item itself. He fully intended on exploring all of its utility as soon as they were safe.


    Done checking over their new gear, the young mage said, "I left my key two commands that it was to give importance to once we breached into this reality. The first was to find a ''safe'', essence rich place and to be drawn to a familiar soul. The chances of it doing both were obviously not likely but the idea was to satisfy the first command nearest to the second.


    "If everything had played out as it was supposed to, we would have grabbed some goodies from that place, careful not to disturb the locals, and then find our familiar soul. What ended up happening was a screeching crash landing that activated every security measure in the place and a scramble for survival to leave it.


    "We''re going to put that behind us and do what we need to do. I''ve got a lock on a soul and that means people. Considering its not THAT far away, expect them to be a tough lot. This isn''t exactly national park level tame."


    Both Cole and Adam gave him grim and silent agreement. Not running around naked and unarmed gave them a small boost of confidence and morale, at least. It would take a little more than that before anyone could feel comfortable much less satisfied again.


    Packing away the valuable other parts of the troll, as they walked, Orison asked Cole, "Are you feeling regret for accepting that ticket off of Osomo?"


    The feline young man shrugged. "Lots of maybes if I stayed and some of them weren''t very happy maybes for a deaf with a crippled foot. I''ll take the fighting chance I have now over that. Don''t worry. If I get mauled to death by some random creature, I won''t haunt you or anything."


    Trying to lighten the mood, Adam said, "Before I got the squirmy thing that turns into a suit and this gun, I was feeling some nostalgia for my testing week in First Summit... You never made it that far did you?"


    Confused by the reference, he tried to recall what the man might be talking about. "First Summit... I don''t remember. If it''s some kind of training evaluation, I never really did too much of any kind of training in a formal way. Was it a survival based challenge?"


    Adam sighed. "How much could you forget in a couple of months or so? Did you take a bad blow to the head? An unexpected chemical reaction to the red hair dye and all the performance enhancers you took to get into shape, perhaps? Good job on being thorough with both, by the way."


    Orison raised an eyebrow at the man. "It''s been a couple of centuries for me in personal time. During which, at one point, I was 108 different people. I had to forget a lot of things to make room for all that. I had to forget a lot of personal things to not be dragged down by the emotional weight of that. Merging souls with an angry but otherwise emotionally numb child was helpful in some ways but not on that front.


    "Obviously, some part of your memory and connection exists within the murky depths of all the things I decided to keep because you''re here. I have a vague impression that something really bad happened at a muddy place. A lot of Rogers and other people were a part of that.


    "If you''re trying to find common ground with me to see where you stand, I''ll help you out. You are a stranger that I feel friendly and responsible towards. I''m inclined to promote you through acquaintance and to legitimate friend fairly quickly as long as you don''t lie, steal from us or attempt to kill one of us."


    Cole added, "Sounds good. I think I''ll go with that too... Wait, I DO know you. You chose to become an angel or something. Orison, the other set of memories I have now, its from that."


    The young mage said, "THAT branch of ifs got erased. None of the Alpha or Beta series realities existed, Adam. You are a person that shouldn''t exist but does. "Like Cole, you were in the space between places when your reality ceased to exist. Unlike Cole, your soul came into being within that reality which no longer exists. Don''t let THAT worry you. The moment you entered a mid-dimensional reality, you registered as a new soul here."


    Adam''s emotional Teflon cracked for a moment. "Everyone I knew is gone?"


    Orison shook his head. "There are some. I wouldn''t dare to guarantee they would still be the people you knew. The again, you''re a Rogers.


    "Dustin, his sister and cousin got wrapped up with one of my closest friends. I think they would have been protected from losing who they were. If you knew them, then-"


    The Rogers man cut him off. "My brother and sister are alive!?"


    The young mage shrugged. "It''s been a few years. Like I said, I wouldn''t dare to guarantee anything but their odds are pretty good."


    "What about little Garret? Do you know anything about him?" Adam asked eagerly.


    Orison frowned.


    He raked through his consciousness and didn''t seem to recall until a shadow of a thought brushed from a brighter branch labeled ''Babs''. "It was only for a short while but he was a running buddy, I think. You''d have to find Babs. She''s definitely not going to let something happen to her brother if she''s okay. And her chances are pretty damn good of still being around, on her own merit."


    Adam asked, "What are my chances of finding them?"


    "Without becoming a climber, not good. There''s a small chance one of them or their associated peeps could be roaming around the upper worlds of this reality but that''s asking for one hell of a coincidence. They do happen, though. Spiritual entanglement is real. Family and friends do tend to be drawn to each other from life to life but climbers kind of break the chain or lengthen it, at least," the young mage said.


    The man grew silent and thoughtful over the next hour. During that time, Orison ran down the list of experiments to see what he could and couldn''t use. Cole had his own version of that instilled in his memories for the short time he traveled with Duran in the alternate ''what if''.


    Finally, Adam broke the silence. "What do I have to do to become a climber?"


    Orison handed him a few sheets of paper made during his experiments with plant fiber. On it were transcribed a refined version of the Rogers Family ''mana particle'' meditation technique and technique conversion notes for different situations.


    The young mage said, "I won''t be responsible for your climber''s journey but this is an idea that I gave to Babs and she ran with it. It''s not a path but it is a gateway. With some hard work, you might find your own key to open it... or not."


    After that, their journey took a turn for the challenging. Running out of meadow, they were once again entering a thick finger of forest and there were creatures waiting for them. A few small spectral animals hounded them, causing mildly aggravating scratches but weren''t capable of actually harming them.


    Those distracting creatures were bent on annoying them to death before Orison had finally had enough and shredded one with spiritual intent. The rest scampered away but a sense of ominousness settled over the area. A large and strong feeling spectral bear appeared.


    As it stared menacingly at the trio, two living ones flanked it. The new additions were just as large and sported bony growths on their backs. Behind them, a few natural looking bears and a couple spectral lookalikes milled around as well.


    Adam was ready to start firing but could see that the young mage had different ideas. Cole was ready to book up a tree and be done with it. It wasn''t that he was a coward or that he would desert them but Orison already knew Cole''s bottom line. The feline young man was no martyr.


    "What are you thinking, man-thing? Now that there stands before you a greater force, do you regret? Do you rail against fate or feel like it is ''unfair''." the spectral bear projected.


    Orison communicated back with emotionless inflection, "No. I''m wondering what they will call the desert this place will become if you attack me. We may not survive but nothing will for miles. It will be a lifeless waste for generations.


    "Do not stand in my path. I am not a man-thing. I am a force of nature that wears the likeness of one. And if I am not provoked, I will be out of your territory in hours."


    The spectral bear asked, "What are you about that crossing my land is needful?"


    The young mage replied, "I sense a familiar soul half a day''s journey in the line I travel. I go to see if it is a loved one. If it is, I want to deliver them from hardship and offer them protection. If not, then I will offer them to join my travels or leave them to their current life without interference."


    The ghost bear huffed. "If I were to allow you passage, you would not be allowed to go there. It is a forbidden place to all save its warden."


    Orison exercised Find Objective to see what it could tell him. "That place doesn''t need to be guarded. I can close it. It feels like a wound in existence. I can remove the strange essence that keeps it from healing... The warden is probably the one I sense."


    "It could be what is sealed there that you sense. Letting you go may doom more than my territory alone," the quarrelsome bear projected.


    "The soul I sense is no power equal to a land god. Anything less than that is no real threat beyond the time it would take to stir interest in stopping them, should they be intending harm," Orison chuckled out.


    The bear growled lowly. "You are an ignorant cub if you believe that. Even a weak little man-thing with a bright mind can rain destruction down on whole ''metal thorn'' using tribes and the large lands they despoil, mark as ''kingdoms''.


    With a genuine look of sadness, Orison said, "It''s a pity. The meadow we walked through to get here was actually quite pretty."


    An unstable pulse of potent energy spilled out from him as he added. "Well, either you die or I die and take everything with me unless you move. Oh, that means that thing out there as well. I''m close enough that the seal will break if I death spite this place."

 261 The Magician 19

    The spectral bear raised up on hindquarters and roared at Orison and the woman both. "The witches demanded it when they threatened my life and the life of my descendants! Now you say no!? Stranger and familiar one alike, man-things are no good things at all! You have until sunset and then I no longer care. Live or die, I will hunt all man-things off my territory."


    The spectral bear lead their descendants away. Orison signaled to his group and started walking on. He didn''t bother to pacify his energy. The moment he did, he was certain that the witch or one of the handful of witches and ranger-like folks in the woods would kill him on the spot.


    The owl masked woman said, "Stranger what do you do here? I demand you speak to me at once!"


    The witch''s intent sunk into Orison''s inner space like a drop of rain into a well.


    "I already told the annoying bear. Ask them. I don''t like repeating myself," the young mage said as he plodded on, Cole and Adam sticking close and exuding nerve snapping tension.


    As they walked, The small battalion of female casters and rangers kept a circle around them. The young mage could tell that there was a diviner among them trying to figure out the right course to subdue or kill him. He couldn''t be bothered. He just slowly kept adding conditions that would cause him to ''nuke''. The first of which was to be stopped or lose consciousness.


    During the tense two hour walk, his would be executioners ended up being unwilling bodyguards. At one point, a ranger took a weird attack from a dryad startled by the unstable energy into unleashing some kind of attack that killed with ''beauty'' alone. Out of strange whimsy, Orison slowed down to resuscitate the ranger who shielded his sight. A touch of mixed healing and mending with a hard, intent augmented chest thump did the trick but it would take the man some time to fully recover.


    During that time, pact shadows sent complaints that their ability to act as proxy patrons had temporarily been disabled but there was no helping that. To keep the status quo, he had to be a walking time-bomb or they would all die. When the shadowy sprite that Orison had slipped out to collect wild herbs during their trip, handed him another sprig of lavender, he was about to break the deadlock when a witch screamed out to widen the circle.


    "Get off it and scry what I''m about to do instead of trying to find ways to kill me, you nasty c*nts," the young mage growled at them.


    At her wits end and on the verge of fainting, the owl masked witch did just that. For a moment, she looked like she was going to throw caution to the wind and order an attack before she paused and gasped into the dour silence.


    Orison thought it over and asked, "How many are there?"


    The owl masked woman said, "There are eighteen known. According to legend, there should be twenty-seven."


    "If you''ll get highest possible promises of safe passage, comfortable accommodations for the duration of our stay and all the books on magic theory your people possess, you have a deal for the eighteen that you know of," the young mage said.


    The whirlwind exchange of deals that commenced were epic. By the time he was done brokering them, Orison''s organs were on the verge of failing from the sheer amount of radical essence particles bombarding him internally. His brain was on the verge of metaphorically melting from all the assurances, promises and spiritually augmented oaths sworn on both sides to ensure peace. He hated it immensely.


    Standing face to face with a withered old crone as he stabilized his energy, Orison said, "I truly feel pity for any enemy of this country if this is the treatment of a potential ally."


    With a bitter grimace that would teach Elder Liu a thing or two, she replied, "As you should. We don''t readily make allies because we do not need them. The Vrajitoare are custodians of this cursed land for a reason."


    After a badly needed day of recuperation in the field, cozy tent and rustic catering grudgingly provided, the young mage went to meet the guardian of the first ''demon finger''. It wasn''t some mythical being, just an old man and his nearly adult son. The son''s soul rang a bell of familiarity and brought to mind the image of a horse. It took some soul searching but Orison placed it.


    With a complex look in his eyes, the young mage said, "Would the two of you like to accompany us to see the end of your need to be tethered here?"


    The son looked excited enough but the father frowned. The old man''s whole purpose was wrapped up into being the hereditary guardian of that monolith. Once it was gone, so was the pride it gave to his family.


    Orison turned to the ancient witch who accompanied the group. "I would like to tithe a third of the vulgar wealth we have agreed upon to this young man here. He is the reason I was drawn to this place."


    Now, the father and son BOTH looked worried for several reasons.


    The old witched raked her icy eyes over the father/son pair and said, "And why would this unassuming lad draw your attention?"


    Orison sighed in a released sense of vaguely melancholy nostalgia. "In another life, another place, I knew him as my godson. He was the husband of my only daughter and she gave up following me on the path of ascension to be with him. I was devastated at the time but he was a good husband. They lived a fulfilling life in that branch of what ifs that never got to be."


    The young mage met eyes with the ''almost'' young man. "The origin of your soul is tied to the spiritual symbol of the horse as it relates to the hunter. Anything related to them, you will have talent in. Internalizing the symbol through meditation will allow you to awaken the gifts belonging to the horse."


    The father didn''t seem to care for that revelation much. Since his own house held the hart totem, that was no wonder. The horse held many similarities and different advantages that would make it a natural contender for attention. The old woman''s impatience and withering look kept things moving along anyway.


    Under the father''s helpless gaze, his house''s claim to prestige was slowly crumbling away under Orison''s touch as his son gained insight on the art of meditation from the young mage. In the hour that it took to finish the process of turning the red veined monolith into another gray and ancient standing stone, Amos gained some appreciation for his one time godfather. Sadly, the old witch wasn''t sentimental in the slightest.


    Using some form of druidic type understandings, the old witch traveled the young mage to five more locations before Orison had to enforce a rest. "I need a little less than a week to process what I''ve taken from these. Taking anymore today would be dangerous."


    The old witch said, ???Very well. I can expect the same amount at that time then."


    The young mage quickly protested. "No. Two, maybe three if they''re pretty much all the same. After another week, the third run will be large enough that the fourth will be quick. It''s an awfully large assumption to expect the situation to stay the same with no changes, though."


    "Should we be ''expecting'' changes from you?" she said warily.


    Orison shrugged helplessly. "I''m not capable of seeing the future. The past, I can to a minor degree."


    She snorted. "Anyone can see the past to a minor degree."


    Orison smirked. "Then a change of topic? How about the young man you had beaten for wasting materials on a magic item YOU caused him to ruin?"


    Giving him a menacing smile, she said, "So, you admit to breaking the clause about scrying of secrets?"


    The young mage gave her dead eyes right back. "You wish. It''s in the brightest of branches right before your arrival to hash out our contract. And if you tell me using spices in our food that lead to a more pliant disposition isn''t skirting malicious acts, I''ll spit in your face and kill us all right now. Keep the drugs out of our food."


    According to the agreement, only one of his two companions would be allowed to roam the settlement and the other would have to be cooped up with him in the male mage compound. It was severe discrimination but with good reason. Their neighbors and worst enemies were wizards primarily comprised of men who held similar yet slightly less extreme prejudice. Sadly, they were also slavers and magical elitists as well.


    "Cole, since I need a little time to coach Adam in meditation, you get to be the free one for the next week. I''m going to soften my pattern. Go ahead and touch me... My HAND, Cole," the young mage said right before they would be separated.


    Several witches stopped in their tracks when Orison transformed into a tanned, icy faced beauty.


    Adam''s slightly smiling face took a downturn. "Why did you do that?"


    It was a question the witches escorting them wanted an answer to as well.


    The young mage smirked. "The ladies in charge don''t respect men with magical talent. And you, I get the feeling that you have problems respecting personal boundaries. This way, I''m less annoyed by two sources for the next week."


    One of the witches laughed. "Goddess preserve you. Do you think so? I personally believe you only traded half of one kind of bothersome for a whole extra helping of another kind."


    Giving a saintly smile, the young mage said, "I''m sure Adam can handle some unruly mages intent on ruining my study time. Do you feel up to abusing your bodyguard position to make some special short-term friendships, Captain Rogers?"


    Adam said, "I''m not into doughy little bread sticks, too fragile."


    Orison sighed. "Do what you want within reason but I don''t think the mages on the witches'' largess are going to be what you think they''ll be."


    The young mage ended up being more wrong than right. The witches didn''t warm up much at all and the cooped up mages were more of a hassle than Orison could have possibly imagined. There were a few of them that were more than happy to be friendly with Adam but they WERE the ''doughy bread stick'' type. The men who put in the effort to look like the roving woodsman outside were hopeful of drawing a witch''s attention.


    While in the compound, Orison received plenty of magic theory material to pour over, at least. And to his delight, they weren''t nearly as prized as the collection of practical magic and spell tomes that were watched over and hoarded like dragon gold. One thing was for sure, the young mage definitely didn''t plan on extending out time as a woman unless it was outside the compound.


    The following week, while picking up two more monoliths, the old witch said, "If you are willing to maintain your feminine form, I''ll allow you to take your next week''s time of contemplation at the approved trader''s way rest. There are reasons why male mages are mistrusted here that go beyond what you think. You seem to be slightly aware or you''d know that your weak attempts to soften witch sentiments against you would be pointless."


    Orison nodded. "How badly do the night visits get for supernaturally sensitive men here? I know it''s not the monoliths."


    The old witch scowled. "Hags. For all I know, our gifts in magic might very well come from them but it''s coincidental at best. Those loathsome creatures have nothing but dark deeds brewing in their hearts."


    "How did Cole fare this week?" the young mage asked.


    The old witch cackled. "I rather like the little churl. When it comes to foul spirits, your young charge is quite the mouser. He''s earned himself a sizable little nest of personal wealth and respect. There''s even been an initiate or two who''ve felt out if he had any interest in staying."


    Orison declared, "If the road to fulfillment brought him here and he desires to go no further, I won''t stand in the way of that. He''s had a hard start to life. I and another were equally moved by his troubles and want him to have a little happiness wherever he can find it.


    "Because of that, I''m going to take a few minutes to go back to my original pattern. This form will only confuse and tempt him to follow. A couple more weeks of maximum security shelter aren''t that bad. Ruining someone''s chance at happiness by teasing them with a false offer would make me a villain in that tale, wouldn''t it?"


    The old witch blinked owlishly while Orison converted back into the athletic young redheaded man that the witch first saw. "Such a queer ability for one who does not carry fiendish taint."


    The young mage smiled faintly. "Only the tip of a very large iceberg, large enough to drive the wise to madness trying to understand."


    Conversation dried up after that. It was time for business and he made short business out of the first target of the day. Halfway through the second, Orison was about to confirm that a third would be no problem when a scaly hand reached through the monolith to grab him. Before any could stop it, the young mage found himself in an abyssal realm of immense size facing a creature that was tremendous and intimidating.


    With a fraction of time too short for even Orison''s brain to fully register, one arm had been completely ripped from socket and ribs mostly broken before instinct turned him into a living cutout of the void. With a flicker, the young mage had made a person shaped hole right through the spine and most crucial organs of the demon.


    Even that wouldn''t have killed the creature but the key within Orison used its power to draw the rest of the demon into the multiple grinding inner layers of the young mage''s space. With an exercise of magic, he pushed himself back out of the temporary crack that was already sealing as a small horde of large demons reached for him.


    It was painful and damaging but he pulled for all he was worth to unravel the exotic essence that maintained the dimensional breach. His key bulged absurdly and felt sluggish as his life''s blood continued to pump out of his missing arm. The old witch wouldn''t draw near until the monolith was completely dead. And by then, Orison wasn''t too far from completely dead himself.


    It wasn''t just the arm. Ribs punctured his lungs and more organs were ruptured than not. The only thing that kept him clinging to life was the steady trickle of healing and a soul capable of filling in for an oxygen starved brain. That was, until the demon''s soul pounced on his own.


    Without the inner realm, the demon might have won and devoured him. Without the inner realm, even if he had won, the demon soul would have been too much and he would have turned demonic himself. But because of the inner realm, he experienced next to no enrichment for taking the soul either.


    As it did every time Orison received a massive amount of resources all at once, it dragged him in along with anything nearby it could lay claim to. That included a young witch protected with the best enchantments and illusion spells the old witch could grant her. Seeing her protegee getting dragged into the pull of Orison''s ''gravity'' the old woman tried to latch onto the girl with the most powerful of magics she was capable of in a short second. All that did was give herself a tie to what was happening.


    A few minutes later, a physically restored but weak Orison and two young women were surrounded by angry witches and tribesmen alike. While they expelled the ''wet clay'', the ''old'' witch called out to a ''sister'' to inspect them for signs of being physically or spiritually compromised. There were none.


    Two days of observation under intense scrutiny were given to the three of them. During that time, they had been separated and Orison''s place was in a warded cell. An intense debate over his fate nearly caused a schism within the witches'' ranks. Honor and pride barely managed to overcome greed and fear by a slim margin.


    Orison addressed the inner circle. "I''ve explained this five times in different ways. I can''t just ''reset'' someone''s pattern to its best moment. That''s triggered by an intake of a massive amount of resources. The loss in resources is vastly beyond the benefit. A supernatural being on the verge of minor god level power was consumed in self defense.


    "It was dangerous and not entirely a good thing. Even if I could recreate the event with another couple of your people primed to benefit with me, I wouldn''t. It''s going to take time to release spiritual impurities. If I threw a large chunk of demon juice in there again so soon, I''d run the risk of turning into an abyssal creature or worse."


    The witch queen personally spoke. "Explain the situation with witch maiden... Oleander. I want to hear it directly from you."


    The young mage sighed. "In an alternative branch of events, I was her father. The young man known as Amos was her husband. Their presence was the reason I was drawn here. I have no other purpose than to enrich their lives in a way that is within their free will and will not disrupt the course that they desire.


    "The awakening of Oleander''s memories of that alternative life was not... would not have been something I would have chosen to do. I didn''t know she was there and would have excluded her from the drawing if I could. That being said, I can only draw up alternate or past life memories for people I''m strongly entangled with and only for the time that I was."


    That was the end of what he would answer. If a method would be attempted that would remove his freedom or coerce his obedience in any way, magical or mundane, a diviner would immediately stop the proceedings in a cold sweat or terrified face.

 262 The Magician 20

    The young mage hadn''t been passive during this time. He figured there were more ''up to no good'' antics happening behind the scenes. Using the supercharged key''s excess to ''sew'' a thread of connection to his other two companions, he communicated with them. There was a thready pulse of life present in the underground area where they had first arrived as well.


    He couldn''t imagine what kind of hearty soul had managed to survive two weeks in a place with no food and very little accessible water but he was about to find out. Before he could enact his plan, the young mage wanted to make sure that the companions with him wanted to be a part of it. He also wanted to make sure his one time godson and daughter were alright as well.


    With all the unexpected secret room backstabbing going on, the ''old'' young witch had ''abducted'' Cole and was nearly a thousand miles removed from the drama. The feline young man didn''t have a chance. It wouldn''t take long for their weird dynamic to change into something deeper and more meaningful.


    Oleander had communicated to Orison through Adam. She had a plan to get the Rogers man out of the mage compound by using some dirt Amos had on his instructor. She had rightfully predicted that Orison would have a lot more freedom to carry out his own plans if there weren''t people he was concerned with around. With access to her mentor''s emergency escape stash, she and her crew had put some distance between them and ''ground zero'' as well.


    Adam was more than happy to settle his spiritual debt with Orison by playing military nanny to the crew instead of continuing on with the young mage. His ability to rope the instructor into a more long term addition for added protection made him crucial to a more solid and permanent escape. He didn''t seem that keen on traveling with Orison to begin with. But underneath it all, he was an honorable man with a decent ability to make the most of what life dealt him.


    Turning his attention onto the person trapped and dying inside the underground ruin, the first thing he noticed was that the person had no previous connection to himself. They had a strong soul and a honed will that the young mage could appreciate, though. And in his heart of hearts, Orison was becoming a bit tired of tangling with souls that were showing stronger and stronger signs of desiring distance from him.


    On his side, he would use the spiritual debt the world had accumulated with him to grant some acceptance for his key to ferry the main part of himself elsewhere in reality. Taking down demon fingers hadn''t just been useful to the key but appreciated by the will that governed reality in a vague and impersonal way. Whether it would be completely enough was still up in the air. But if the debt shifted in his direction a little, he had intended to play low-key nice from the beginning anyway.


    Once he felt the initial tugs of a summoning on his true name, Orison softened his pattern and allowed his key to take him in. With a gentle push, the world''s rejection pushed the conduit acting like an inter-dimensional phylactery out. Simultaneously, the crafted avatar was materializing into the summoning circle.


    From his viewpoint ''on high'', the young mage saw that the dying person was a deep elf man or whatever that world''s perception of underground dwelling elves to be. The man seemed to have experienced some kind of accident while using a planar artifact that was stronger than his know-how could handle. Like a great deal of the demonic blooded elves kind, his soul had a stain and curse to it but it showed strong signs of lightening.


    Mentally chuckling, Orison thought, "A deep elf on a path of redemption that wasn''t a spiritually chaotic train wreck at the start would be a first. Alright, it''s my first avatar and he seems like he''s TRYING to make good. Let''s be nice and give him what he wants within reason. It''ll make for a decent in-flight movie.


    Speaking through the avatar, Orison said, "Speak your heart to me and I will grant you what aid your sincerity earns you."


    The deep elf had exhausted the majority of his remaining energy in casting the summoning circle with dribbles of blood from his own ruined body. "Want to live... lost... so alone."


    Orison tried not to laugh. The guy was so pure hearted and soulful, the young mage had to wonder how the man had been born into such a cruel and darkness steeped place as most underbellies of magical worlds tended to be.


    "No need to be stingy. I''ll load up the avatar with all the bits of Reese, Green and White that Al and Piran saved. I''ll shadow pact it everything that the sacrifice will let fit as well. Who knows how much mileage it''ll get but it should at least get the guy out of his current fix as long as he doesn''t throw a turd into the sacrifice section," he thought.


    The deep elf placed a page that was liberally coated in his own gore onto the sacrifice portion of the circle. The moment that Orison registered the page as being noticeably ''realer than real'' he mentally gulped nervously within the key as the circle activated. For a few minutes, Orison got to experience what it was like to be a pact shadow. His soul core flipped to be inside the avatar long enough for the desolate realm to slurp up the page, previous owner and avatar.


    The young mage suddenly had years worth of deep trance learning to attend to as he traveled through a strange, psychedelically gassy void with the phantom key as his vessel. And for the first time, there was a surplus of essence running out of the desolate realm. The ruined tower needed to play catch-up with the copious amount of ''building material'' it found itself in possession of.


    "Dear gawd, what was that!? How could a single little page hold that much? Well, before I''m pulled into who knows how long a nap, I''ll consciousness mark the two of them so I can experience a bit of living from time to time.


    "No pervy intended... Not much anyway. I don''t want to wake up as some dry academic mage whose forgotten how to be a people," Orison thought right before deep trance claimed him.


    ***


    The deep elf awoke feeling weak, nauseous and cold. As his senses oriented themselves, he heard a lyrical woman''s voice singing.


    "There once was a man named Owen the bard. Really a quite vexing fellow. Silver of tongue and warty of d***, the reincarnation of Mellow... It''s not hard at all. Just about anybody can... Oh, you''re awake! Please pretend you didn''t hear that!" an ocean eyed, redheaded woman said.


    With a faint blush on her cheeks, she presented the naked man a set of leathers as she slightly looked to the side. "Not the finest work I''m capable of but better than letting the naughty bits flap in the breeze... so to speak. I know we''re underground and all but..."


    The dark elven man snatched up the leathers and undergarments.


    He dressed in the speed of light while gazing at the woman with mild fear and heavy suspicion. "What happened to my equipment?"


    The woman looked at him in annoyance and said, "You should be thankful our patron''s not a tool. Your sacrifice was coated in your blood and whatever else. He could have taken YOU, much less your equipment. But to answer your question, it was an involuntary and completely unintentional reaction to accepting your sacrifice and attempting to fulfill whatever you asked for.


    "We''re in luck it seems. Some poor shapeshifter type made a decent run of the place before biting the big one on a magic trap. Most of the time you were napping, I went around collecting what I could safely."


    The deep elf quickly gathered everything that was piled up while eyeballing her equipment. She didn''t have much. A bit worn but serviceable set of clothing was partially obscured by a silken and billowy open front over robe. At her side was a small bag that glowed under his magic sensitive sight.


    He said, "Show me what''s in the bag."


    With a slightly hurt expression, she emptied it. The contents were relatively meager in comparison to the pile in his own newly acquired bag of holding. In all, there was around a tenth of the vulgar wealth, an old wizard''s tome and a few of the less impressive items more geared towards personal survival than power. After checking over the items in his possession, he felt that he had wronged her quite thoroughly.


    "If all is as it seems to be, then you are missing a weapon for personal protection... Take one," he said gruffly while looking everywhere but at her.


    Looking over the items he made available, she sifted through and picked up a gnomish contraption that shot darts from the sleeve and a faintly magical dagger.


    He was surprised by her modesty but it did little to quell his suspicion. To his thinking, if she held so little greed, there must be a reason for it. A sudden thought dawned on him that made him look at her in a way that made the woman uneasy.


    While organizing and acquainting himself with his new possessions, the deep elf said with a superior look, "Are you my servant?"


    Her face twisted into a mask of barely checked rage. "Listen up, numb nuts. You ever ask me a question like that again and I''ll show you just how much of a ''servant'' I am. If you can keep a civil tongue in that mouth of yours, I''ll help you as much as I can but you don''t own me.


    "How long that help lasts depends on you. If you''re a nice guy, I''ll stick around. You start acting like an arrogant prick, I''m gone the first chance I get."


    The deep elf nearly rolled his eyes. "Put on an act all you want. The truth is, I''m owed service, right? You''re probably not even a real person."


    The woman''s eyes grew large and glassy with barely held tears.


    "I''m no less a person than you are," a bit of a warble entered her voice as she continued, "Here''s a sketch of what I know of this place''s layout and a path beyond it to a road traders pass through. And this world is full of people, just so you know. Basic and cheating but THAT is the ''service'' you''re OWED."


    The connection between them had far from disappeared but she hadn''t lied. She had bought herself enough leeway to walk away from him and that''s what she did. He dumbly watched her get farther away until she turned down a corridor. The realization crashed down that he was alone again and was certain that she wasn''t going to return.


    Still feeling weak and queasy, he was galvanized into action. Within moments, he was caught up to where she was walking carefully around a set of pressure plates in the floor.


    "That''s it?" he said to her.


    The woman looked at him with dull eyes and said, "No. If you are hurt or in dire need and I fail to help you, the debt between us will strike at my existence until it erases me or it''s used up. But you know what? I''d rather be erased than forced to follow around an a**hole."


    There weren''t many different types of tricks and manipulations that hadn''t been used on the man before at one time or another. She wasn''t bluffing. He''d seen that look on some slave''s face right after they had found a way to end their misery.


    He snorted. "A few cross words and you''re ready to go kill yourself. If you''re that WEAK, I doubt you''d be of much use to me anyway."


    As she continued to make her way around the plates, she said in a saccharine voice, "Don''t worry you pretty little head over this weak woman, then. I''m resolved to live as I please until it kills me. Suit yourself."


    Annoyed, he said, "Unless you know something I don''t, it''s not possible to leave this place, just like that. If the dead doppelganger isn''t proof enough, I don''t know what is."


    She replied, "There''s a room not far away with a broken teleport gate in it. I think I can use it... to do something. If your ego is small enough to stuff back into your pants, the device you have on you can make that easier but I''ll be damned if I''m going to beg you to come. I''ll take my chances alone if I have to."


    With a permanent scowling face dangerously close to cracking a smile, the deep elf said, "I don''t believe I''m the one with an ego too large to fit in my undergarments. You''d rather die than clear up some confusion for me."


    The woman turned so fast that she wobbled dangerously close to pushing a lethal pressure plate down. "Oh, there''s no confusion. The very moment you though you might be able, you tried to put me in my place or at least sit on my head. I got three words for you. Oh, hell no."


    Faint amusement fading quickly, the deep elf followed closely behind as he whispered, "There are golems close by. The sound of a voice could activate them... What ill fate was I born under? I faced near certain death to run away from a place where women controlled my life. And now, I have to place my life in the hands of one who''s supposed to listen to my orders but would rather commit suicide first."


    With a mischievous smile, she said, "Fate''s a cruel mistress."


    "Indeed. My name is Deacon," he said while trying a friendly smile on for size.


    He ended up looking like someone had shanked him in the kidney.


    "I, uh, I''m Wren," she said, sounding unsure.


    Deacon resisted the urge to sigh and said, "Whenever you''re ready, I''d like to have your real name someday."


    "Well, you see. I just named myself because I''m reborn and wasn''t actually given one," she said.


    He said, "Perhaps you''d let me name you, then. I have-"


    Her menacing glare cut his original thought off. "Wren''s a... good name."


    Silence descended between the two. She wanted to defrost things but she had came on so strong, she didn''t know how to back down in a way that wouldn''t get him acting snobby again. On his part, he had ''compromised'' so much already, it was hard to bend any further.


    Soon enough, they had reached their destination and Wren had more important things to worry about than friendly communication. Using the slow and costly mending ability to piece the gate fragments together, she started fatiguing fairly quickly. They had nearly spent an entire day in silence, slowly getting more and more hungry.


    "It''s good that you can make water... And that''s appreciated but... can your patron provide sustenance? We''re far from dying but if we''re too weak to defend ourselves... I don''t want to die to some small and avoidable thing after surviving so much," Deacon whispered.


    She replied tiredly, "I''m hungry too but I can spend a day or so piecing together how to do that or finish preparing this gate for travel in a few hours."


    He asked, "What are the most likely of destinations?"


    "More of the same, I''m afraid. It''s got to be a real ruin that''s already been trashed, though. Right? Otherwise, this place should have been... I don''t really know for sure. Such an important place, how many can there be and how huge are the chances that its an undiscovered one like this place?" she said.


    Thinking it over for minute, Deacon said, "Work on tangible gains first... please."


    Mildly depressed, she sat down to meditate and piece together a working model for creating the edible paste a body recognized as food but the tongue protested most assuredly was not. Among the possible personality flaws that Deacon might possess, impatience wasn''t one of them. It was a tedious day''s worth of doing nothing but he didn''t let out the slightest of protests or encouragements.


    The moment she had produced a large handful of the paste, they ate it with grim determination. There wasn''t much of a sense of accomplishment that should accompany such a relief but it was so lacking in enjoyment that there was nothing BUT the relief left in the act. Aside from imminent starvation being avoided, there was a concern that Wren addressed whether it made Deacon''s approval or not.


    Slipping off to a dark corner on the safer side of the room, she summoned some water and scrubbed herself down before wicking the water away. It was surprisingly effective and the results were better than the degree shift version in her memories. Feeling refreshed, she redressed and donned the over robe that rested in her seat of consciousness.


    Rejoining Deacon, she noticed a loose and weird smile on the deep elf''s face. "What has you so happy all of a sudden?"

 263 The Magician 21

    She wanted to be mad but it was her own fault. She didn''t want to explain herself because it sounded too much like asking permission. There was also a small voice in the back of her mind that whispered a contrary thought. It would have been far more humiliating if she had cleaned herself so brazenly in front of him and he hadn''t cared at all. As embarrassed as she was at what she''d done in ignorance, there was some comfort that she was attractive and he was enough of a ''gentleman'' that looking was all he had done.


    Unable to process her complex feelings, she silently returned to working on repairing the gate enough to get them out of their underground prison. When he interrupted her to politely ask for a similar opportunity to clean himself, her mind nearly short circuited. It was a request that she had a hard time ignoring for many reasons.


    Supernatural compulsion aside, she might have been her own person but her personality was crafted from pieces of her patron. The most meaningful love of Orison''s life had been a deep elf and he had grown a strong appreciation for their unique beauty. Although she''d never admit it, her first moments in her new life were spent admiring the vivid pinks and reds that stood out so prominently on smooth skin like dusted, crushed black velvet.


    While she assisted him in cleaning up, Deacon''s thoughts were a bit tangled as well. When she had retreated to the back corner of the room and doused her mage light, he had assumed that she was preparing to take care of personal business but was surprised to see her undressing. At first he wondered if she was coyly seducing him but her nervous glances in the dark in his direction and the purely functional movements told a blander story.


    After all he had seen in his short forty years of life, barely viewed as an adult by his people''s standards, an unintentional bold display of nudity hardly registered enough to attract his attention. It was the humble and timid body language, as if she were doing something naughty. It was the faint smile of enjoyment in cleanliness being restored, the pebbling of skin and soft gasp as the wicked water took her body heat with it. She had created a moment of innocent eroticism that the deep elf steeped in sinful, self indulgent culture hadn''t witnessed the like of before.


    As he donned his armor, the pleasant feeling blooming inside of him was cut short by a flash of another pale skinned woman. The echoes of her screaming rang in his ears as his matron slashed open the human''s swollen belly to remove the elven blooded child within. His anguish at seeing the tiny life move weakly a few times before growing still, painted the scene vividly in his mind''s eye.


    The images of the matron looking at him with a smile on her face, as she flung the dead infant to her pet demon spider, came back to him even as he tried to fight off the unwanted thought. He recalled the accusation of keeping his dead father''s b******d a secret from her right before he was flailed to the brink of death. The inescapable knowledge that it might have been his was only salt added on the wound of a memory.


    His father had forced him to perform those acts with the human. Deacon knew it was so that he would keep his father''s secret. For his father, it was a way to enjoy guilty pleasures and escape light retribution from his powerful wife. For Deacon, it was the first of many cracks in his sense of belonging that shattered the moment a tamed creature of the abyss was given his dead infant brother or son as a treat.


    A slender arm wrapped around him and he suddenly realized that he was silently crying. Out of reflex, he pushed her away and tried to quickly remove the signs of his momentary weakness, one far more shameful than unwanted arousal. Publicly showing emotional pain wasn''t only mocked, it was punished. Delighting in causing it was all but directly rewarded.


    After he calmed himself and turned to her, he expected to see anger or possibly disdain. Instead, Deacon saw a collected and carefully neutral face. There wasn''t even the look of pity some of the newer slaves that were still alive inside would show each other from time to time.


    "Wherever you were just then, it''s not here," she said.


    Giving space, she returned to her work.


    Once the silence stretched into a less comfortable version of what it had been the last couple of days, Wren added, "Not that this little hole is any slice of paradise. Our current hell might not be any fun either but it''s an impersonal hell. There''s no cruel tormentors, just heartless and soulless dolls that will kill us without any feelings at all. Is it strange that I find that a little... less horrible?"


    Deacon looked at a spot on the floor not that far away. He knew if he were to step there, a magic trap would kill him or activate a golem that surely would.


    He said, "Oddly, no. There are things much worse than death. It would even be quick if you didn''t fight back."


    That DID cause her to look at him in worry.


    He made a dismissive wave of his hand. "It was only an observation... You''re somewhat of a mystery to me. Sometimes you seem young and sometimes much older."


    Returning back to her work, she said, "Because I am. A small part of me is a young woman who thought she survived an abusive man until fate made a mockery of her escape. A much larger part of me is a woman named Reese. She was a bit of soul that my patron picked up along the way at some point without realizing it.


    "She was a brilliant person, an inventor of magical technology. Her most well known work was a hovercraft but her greatest contribution was also her greatest mistake. You see, she had a vision. She wanted to put magic in the hands of mundane people, give them a way to stand on equal footing with those born to the talent.


    "A collection of demonic artifacts gave her the missing piece to that puzzle. She... found a way for mundane people to use magic, alright. But the cost, it was life. Caster guns, rift sealers, even powered suits were suddenly available for anyone to use but it ate away their controllers. Even worse, her research was leaked and darker minds created something so close to the demon artifacts in purpose, they might as well have BEEN the damned things.


    "Marketed as talent testers, anyone with a magical gift could be sucked dry, capturing some of their life force in the process. The greater the gift, the more they could take. To the rich and powerful, life became a form of ultra currency. They stole from a possibly brighter future to preserve old monsters bent on staining it in their corrupt colors.


    "That world, it no longer exists. It would be more accurate to say that it never did. Reese would have loved Them for that act alone but They gave her a chance to live another life. She even found some self forgiveness and the courage to spend her last moments in the arms of the man she loved."


    Silence descended again. Hours went by and she was finally forced to rest for awhile before renewing her efforts. During that time, Deacon couldn''t find a way to break through the wall of their mutual personal ghosts.


    During a paste break, she said, "Sorry. I didn''t mean to unload like that but... I just want you to understand how precious and important this life is to me. To you, maybe even our patron, I''m little more than this helpful creation but I''m alive and I have my own thoughts, desires."


    Deacon asked, "Do you remember those creations, how they were made?"


    She gave him a dour look and said, "No and good riddance."


    "You say your patron picked up this Reese soul along the way. How is such a thing possible?" he asked.


    She said, "It shouldn''t be. Greater Reality doesn''t allow for soul cores to merge. It''s something that has to be done outside of existence but... if a person is almost destroyed, core and all, you can pick up pieces of others if they''re shoved into the mending. From that point on, those pieces are recognized as you by Greater Reality, I guess."


    "Are there any more ''others'' inside of you?" he asked, deep in thought.


    Hesitantly, she said, "Well, Reese is the only core fragment in me but there is another spiritual inheritance. The patron calls him ''White''. He is a part of the patron that They aren''t comfortable with. White lived his whole life for others, the most caring and compassionate part of not only myself but of the patron as well.


    "White was the part of Them capable of loving... differently. He was deeply saddened by people''s inability to see love as more important than petty surface details. His unfulfilled wishes, I inherited those too. Before all the parts that make me are called back home when this life is done, I plan on giving my all to leave not a single speck of regret behind that I can help."


    For lack of anything better to say, he offered, "It sounds complicated and confusing."


    She smiled and said, "Not at all. It couldn''t be more clear. I''m going to live like every second matters, wear all of my emotions with pride and be resolved not to treat any of those feelings as something I should fear or be ashamed of. Most important to me, I''m resolved not to betray my conscience, even if it costs me my life.


    "If I live long enough I''m sure I''ll screw up, cave to pressure or make mistakes. But as long as I can find the strength to dust myself off and do what I need to do, can do, I won''t think of it as a failure at all... Parts of me have lived a life unafraid of sacrifice or death. Now, I want to be unafraid to live, to take the risks of great suffering for the chance to taste the greater joys only available to those who are. Unafraid to live, I mean."


    Gathering up his own courage and ''resolve to live'', Deacon said, "I''m going to tell you my life... But I do not have the trust that you do. I order you to not share it, even with your patron."


    A chunk of the debt between them disappeared as he unburdened all of the horrible things he had done, forced to witness or take part in. He told her all the things that had damaged him. It was raw and ugly but it was real.


    When he was done, nearly another day had gone by. She felt like her mind had been dipped in tar, coated in the filth of a violently lanced wound filled with infection. Some of the things he told her would haunt her but it was his need. And for once, she was more than happy to obey his ''order''.


    The part of her that was Reese helped her to not judge. The part that was White allowed her to show compassion despite an inward revulsion. The part that was Green instilled fear of what he''d become if Wren didn''t kindle that flickering ember of goodness in him into something more substantial.


    He was a monster who lived in a place so depraved, that he had been pushed past a bottom line he didn''t know he had until it was broken. That moment awoke a feeling of dread in what he was and where he came from. It may have started out as a suicidal whim but he wanted to defy that darkness for hurting him.


    He was strangely childish in that defiance but he was also stubborn. There was no doubt that a skilled matron would have snuffed that resistance in an instant but he had escaped. She had found her reason to stay by his side. If she couldn''t take that childish impulse to defy and use it to set him on a course of redemption, she''d kill him herself.


    Deacon felt horrified at first. A lifetime of training to think and act in certain ways pressed an overwhelming shame on him for unburdening himself to the woman. There was a quality to her that made him want to, though. Whether to bask in the warmth of her light or smear that light with his degeneracy and spiritual filth, he was unsure.


    A gibbering voice within begged him to defile her, ravage and devour that light, but a more rational voice within knew that would gain him nothing. What she had couldn''t be claimed by another, only freely shared or broken. He''d seen it many times in lesser lights.


    A small flicker of growing intent lit within him. It was beyond the carnal pleasures he''d indulged in whatever way struck his fancy but far from the alien and mostly unknown emotion of love. It wasn''t for her specifically but for what she possessed. He wanted to wallow in weakness and pollute his darkness with searing light. He''d let it burn away all the outer layers and find if there was something inside or if nothing would be left but a hollowness large enough to enfold and snuff out all the light.


    "I give you permission to hold me," he said.


    She gave him a saintly smile. "I give you permission to kiss my a**."


    Deacon moved faster than she could follow. She felt a pair of steel vices grab her waist and pull down. The coolness was replaced by a sudden warm breath behind her. A soft and warm sensation lingered there for a second before sharp pain joined it.


    She wheeled around and slapped him with all the force she had. As she pulled up and tied her slightly torn pants with trembling fingers, she watched him lick the trickle of blood from his split lip.


    "You bit me!" she said in shaky disbelief.


    He said thoughtfully, "It wasn''t my original intention but... I had a peach once when I was young-"


    "Don''t even finish that story!" she pointedly ignored him as she returned to work.


    Wren was angry and scandalized. But for some reason she couldn''t identify, she didn''t heal the throbbing bite mark on her bottom either. She tried to justify it as a reminder that the man she was tethered to was not someone she could let her guard down around but it rang a little false.


    Finally, after days worth of targeted mends, the gate pulsed with a weak and fragile connectivity. Instantly, echoes rang out from the activation of golems. With a quiet hiss, Wren asked for the partially broken planar travel device. She shoved the bent and cracked artifact that looked somewhat like a tuning fork into the destination ''dial''.


    "We have less than few breaths til we''re laying in pieces all over this room," Deacon said calmly.


    She said, "There''s only one lit destination and it''s weak. I don''t think it''s sa-"


    The deep elf covered her with his body as a flying sword sliced into his back. With little choice, she activated the gate and pulled them through while he gritted his teeth in pain. They shot out the other side into solid dirt.


    Residual magic shunted them like a cannon ball to the nearest open space. Over the short distance, the damage of displacement from occupied space shredded and mangled them both. Whether from the over robe or residual qualities of her patron lingering within her, Wren fared better than Deacon. She was badly hurt but not in a critical condition unlike him. He was once again hovering between life and death.

 264 The Magician 22

    Running on nothing but a little intuition and a resolve not to give up until there was nothing left, she carefully dragged Deacon with her as she clawed her way through shifted dirt. Their forced passage through it had loosened its centuries of settled stability. That barely managed to allow her to dig with her bare hands as she exercised the trickle of magic to alternate between different elemental sprites. It became a grueling cycle.


    She''d clean the air some so they could keep breathing. She''d run enough healing to keep Deacon alive and dig a little more. Water and food was added to the mix every once in a while. She''d also completely pass out once in awhile, waking in a panic and bringing everything back from the brink of unsurvivable.


    A small trail of broken or used up magic items and a couple of lesser enchanted weapons marked their progress. Because she didn''t have the luxury of a proper rest, her uses of magic began eating through the vested lifespan and spiritual integrity she possessed. At one point, the spiritual debt between them was burned through but she didn''t change a single part of her routine.


    "Leave me. I''m ruined anyway. Save your healing for yourself," Deacon said.


    She knew that he didn''t completely mean it. He wanted to live as much as she did. His will was only wavering because of pain and hopelessness.


    Wren snapped at him. "Shut up. Your job is to drink water and shovel magic paste into your face until we''re out of here."


    He grew silent and pensive. A few feet an hour turned into one or two and eventually it was only a few inches. They had ran into harder packed dirt and rock.


    The last good weapon they had, she started using as a pick and shovel. Wren cursed herself for not using it from the start but there was always a chance that things wouldn''t be safe and they might need the sword for self defense. But, in the end, it had joined the rest in getting chipped up and slowly destroyed to help them claw to freedom.


    When she ran into a thick wall, her spirit cracked a little. As she cried, Deacon dug deep through his fevered delirium to attempt killing himself to give her a better chance at survival. For the last half day, she started showing signs of infection induced illness because her body had been too stressed out and kept low on resources for too long.


    Nearly in hysteria, she rasped with energy she couldn''t really afford to spend, "Damn it, don''t you understand? If it was only me, I would have given up long ago. Why should I suffer this just for me? Don''t die. You''re the only reason I have to keep trying."


    She swallowed back a sob and took the scroll that that would grant them the ability to ''ghost'' for only a few seconds. Steeling her self, Wren held onto Deacon tightly and ripped the scroll, pulling him for all her protesting body was worth. There was nothing but more dirt on the other side.


    True to her nature, she drew on the power of her patron to keep them ghosting just a little longer. Over the next few seconds, it became harder and harder to pull him. From her perspective, it seemed like he was getting heaver at an exponential rate.


    But the truth was, she was burning through her power of existence to force the patron granted ability to do more than it was meant to. The only way to do that was to borrow power from the Entanglement Key and it only accepted one form of currency. By the time she was little more than a shadow who had to scramble to keep a constant grip, she pulled them into a small space with very little air.


    She was too weak to do much of anything and he was dying. All the struggle and suffering was seconds away from amounting to nothing. With the desperation of the damned, she felt around the small space for anything to save herself or Deacon.


    The only thing in the small space was a broken and caved in display case. At one point in its past, it had been warded so powerfully that even a lesser god would have had to sacrifice much to open it. It still was strong enough to kill any living being that tried to breach it.


    In her strange, nearly non-existent state and the ward''s degradation, her power of existence was so weak that she didn''t trigger it. Reaching inside, she enveloped the three contents with her shadowy body and sacrificed the rest of what she had left to request her patron to do what They could to save them. With a wrench of inner will that unraveled what remained of her faint existence, she used her connection with the key to reach Orison.


    The young mage was unable to respond but that wasn''t true for the desolate realm that was instantly moved to seize what she had found. The wispy fragments of Wren, the newly dead Deacon and the ''sacrifice'' were all drawn in. The outcome wasn''t a predictable one.


    ***


    In the depths of the ''psychedelic gas'' that was the completely neutralized miasma of the creature Orison had once been eons ago, a gloating person made of void with electric blue eyes was toying with a phantom key. They had been taking their time to relish their victory as they always had. In whimsical steps that would only measure in millions of physical miles at a time, the avatar had been taking the key and its contents down to the heaviest depths of the stretched out reality.


    Along the way, it had created a wake of hundreds of thousands of souls that had become lost and trapped in the multicolored gas that demarcated the space between many material planes. The avatar''s movements had drew chaotic remnants and scattered alien entities that dwelt within it as well. As soon as the avatar crossed the boundaries to the lower dimensions, they would trigger the hungry realm within. Once it devoured all it could, They would shape the soul that carried the ''Tower of Ruin'' into a powerful new avatar for the ''Crawling Chaos'' to play with.


    The avatar suddenly found that it couldn''t move. Time-space had shattered in their immediate area. It was only a momentary discomfort. Adjusting to the broken and fragmented law around it, they reached for the key as they felt a strong pull of gravity start to form. The avatar giggled as it allowed itself to be pulled in. As soon as they corrupted the core, they''d simply warp the whole mess to the lower dimensions.


    Halfway in, however, key and tower exploded violently. Caught off guard, the avatar was shredded under a force it wasn''t prepared to counter. Laughing, the avatar began pulling itself together along with all the rich, condensed essence and natal planar seeds formed from materialized law comprehensions.


    They no longer had to go to the lower dimensions. The avatar could gather it all up and make another avatar right on the spot. At least, that''s what they began doing before they were pulled into the center of the explosion by a gravity so great that it distorted time-space faster than the regenerating avatar could adjust to it.


    Within moments, the newly formed miniature black hole drew in everything within nearly a million miles of it, spewing two massive violent jets of destroyed matter and super condensed essence. As several more tier five humanoid shaped voids appeared to reclaim losses and calculate much greater gains than expected, seventy-two layered spheres sprang into being and drew the avatars to their destruction as well.


    Several local years went by until the current astral cycle met its end and a new one began. The ''black hole'' cracked like the shell of an egg and a giant Duran floated out of it. In one massive hand, he held a Tower with a phantom key floating in front of its door. In the other, there was a shield made of law comprehensions.


    The newly ascended tier six being, a world god level powerhouse, was immediately flanked by two tier six avatars. The two beings, incomprehensible in their alien glory, moved to destroy Duran only to find that they suddenly occupied the same space. A third unseen one backed off just in time to keep from joining the other two in the self destruct such a vulgar violation of Greater Reality''s laws enacted upon them.


    The crazy hermit appeared and sniffed in irritation at the one who got away. "Too soon or is it too late this time. Well, two out of three ain''t baaaad."


    He got to slurping away as his book ate a set of terrifyingly powerful conduits. It was so much that neither of them could finish their meals in one sitting. To keep the remnant chrism and conduit pieces from infecting the reality they were supping in, they both tucked a fold of space away and turned large amounts of it into more ''psychedelic gas'', strengthening the durability and duration of the reality they were currently in by untold years.


    The hermit turned to Duran. "I''m not going to explain this all to you because you won''t understand. I''m tempted to get vulgar but my baby''s here. I have to watch my language.


    Nomy protested but the crazy hermit just cooed at the living book and praised it until it gave up.


    Done with pacifying his ''baby'', the hermit said, "Get yourself to the higher dimensions immediately before the broken laws mend. Don''t give anything you gained from that creature to anyone that will ever step out of the higher dimensions. That would just doom them.


    "Congratulations on setting this up but don''t get the wrong idea. Long after we''ve forgotten what happened today, they will remember. You have until the great cycle of the Maelstrom begins again to make yourselves too much of a pain or too much of a waste of time to pursue.


    "Beings more powerful that what you have become have pretty much ceased giving a sh- sugar beet about anything but themselves and their closest of closest. You''ll be on your own when the next wave comes to crash over you. Either enjoy yourself to the fullest while waiting for the end to come or push yourself to the brink to have the smallest of chances.


    "Mine and Noden''s debt to the, what did they call themselves, the ''flying spaghetti monster'' are paid. Here, let me leave a soul message for Them and I''m out of here. The next time me might meet, I won''t remember either of you. And out of the kindness that I once had long ago, don''t expect me to be... nice.


    "Don''t worry about killing me in self defense either. My higher self will just remake my story somewhere else and probably won''t remember long enough to care. Later, insignificant wor- dear friends."


    Duran sighed at the man''s passing. He had questions he wanted to ask but the hermits whole speech and disappearance happened so fast that even the expanded senses of a tier six could only barely grasp them. With a deepening feeling of sad endings, he turned his attention to the key and tower.


    With a twist of the key, a single mote of soul core flew out of the tower. "Forgive me Reese but I couldn''t forget you. Forgive me Orison but I can''t let her go. We can both agree that Gan deserves some happiness too."


    With another twist, a drop of condensing soul stuff turned into a speck of core before it flew off into the distance. The space in Duran''s hand was soon occupied by a comatose deep elf and another newly formed speck of soul core. Elf and reincarnating woman were warped to a safe location near where they had originally came from.


    "With some of Reese''s wisdom and White''s tolerance, Green can help you sever your ill fate with dark souls reaching for redemption." he said.


    With one great twist of key, a portion of condensed soul and core came out. "Piran has enough from you to stand on his own now. There''s no need to shelter him from his incomplete fate anymore. He has powerful family to do that for him now. And tangling yourself with them... it''s too many complications for you. Besides, Wendy doesn''t like you and... the one who longs for you, she doesn''t like Wendy or Piran much."


    A section of gray space opened nearby. Duran reached out a massive finger and handed off the soul to a worried older man that looked a lot like Zeke.


    "I don''t know when or if we''ll meet again, Orison. But if we do, even if you''re a monster or a saint, count that you have a friend in me." he said.


    With a final use of the key, Duran locked away enough of the tower''s influence that the remaining soul''s fragile state could endure it. After sending the tower on its way with the key inserted into its door, the infant tier six returned to normal human size and faced the old obsidian elf woman who had just shown up.


    "Couldn''t we have done more for him, Medea? After everything that Orison''s went through, he still only has seven rings," Duran said mournfully.


    The old woman chuckled compassionately and reached up to pat the ''boy''s head. "My sweet child, others will see that too and think what you think now... Did his path ever seem lesser or weaker than yours? In the beginning, his desire to help you behind Piran''s whim set you on it.


    "Wick will one day become a tier seven being and still trembles in fear for the time they spent within him. Many whose lives he only briefly touched were sent reeling to heights beyond their wildest imagination. For all your similarities, you wear your power boldly in challenge.


    "Don''t pay attention to the sleight of hand. Behind the occasional act of pride or arrogance, he remains humble and conceals all but what must be shown. The feelings he reveals to his loved ones are genuine and sincere but that is where you must cease to see him at face value. Those who forget that will pay the price if they force him to strip away the surface."


    He nodded at her.


    And as they strolled into realms beyond, he said, "Putting all the rest of our decisions behind us, couldn''t we have found a more... fitting companion for him?"


    Medea rubbed her temples. "In truth, we could and probably should have. We needed her help, though. It was her one request. I believe that she may be a... rotten woman."


    With one last look back, Duran said, "Sorry, old friend. Lily is a... special one."


    Medea sighed. "If you look past selfish motive, there might be some wisdom to her decision. Orison could never stand seeing a woman in danger anyway. And his path, it is anything but safe."

 265 The Magician 23

    "For your own sake, remember we all start as the fool. We never stop being the fool but most forget that. They get a touch of tangible power and think themselves the master of all. Those never cease to be anything BUT the fool.


    "You are aware of your foolishness. And for that, I give you praise... Not wallowing in that sad realization, you have moved on and into the path of the magician. You have seen that the power at the heart of the magician is to make illusion a reality and to turn reality into illusion. The realization that comes with that is both terrifying and intriguing, is it not? Truth and lie, order and chaos, it''s all far more subjective than people can easily imagine.


    "It is the fate of the magician to climb the Tower of Ruin. You have delved deeply into the heart of the magician''s power far more times than you know. Because of this, your key and tower have become far more than metaphor and so has its accompanying ruin. Many cycles pass and you still languish in its grip. My last act as your teacher is to give you a word of advice that you may choose to accept or ignore.


    "For the Tower of Ruin to become the House of Wisdom, you must overcome the ''dark night of the soul''. That part of your path must be walked alone because it is a path only found within. Do not fight ruin, for it is not YOUR ruin.


    "All is impermanent. Ruin is only the transition between one creation and another. That which has a beginning, has an end. That which has no beginning has no end. Find where they meet and erase the distinction. If you succeed, you will become endless and you will need fear ruin no longer."


    ***


    Orison slowly stirred to wakefulness with pain in his side. There was a body curled against him that faintly made him think of Lily but also not. Opening his eyes, he saw short red hair on the back of a head desperately wrapping itself in his over robe. It was Patrick from the underworld version of Al''s Earth.


    The poor guy''s state of undress, as well as Orison''s own underneath the soul bound robe, was nothing to overreact about. Patrick was obviously cold and there was nothing provocative about the way the redheaded young man was clinging to him. Before waking him up, Orison scanned the young man with spirit sight. Patrick was more than healthy and with the subconscious queue still fresh, the young mage wondered how he never noticed the connection before.


    He muttered to himself, "You guys got it all wrong. I don''t know why Lily went about it in such an around about way but no wonder she was so evasive about the search for her ''sister''. She was trying to find fragments of herself."


    Patrick sat up like he''d been shocked and stared sightlessly ahead for a few moments. His head was a mess of tangled thoughts and memories that took awhile to piece together enough to speak coherently. During that time, Orison assessed himself and the situation to find a couple of pleasant surprises and a great deal more disappointments.


    They were inside the borrow within the buffer zone between the undead empire and the bugbear tribal spots. It was the last place the old cabin had been set down with all its functions in tact, including the ''slide of time'' field. With all the mixed up causality Orison had performed, there might be a number of reasons why they would end up in that specific place.


    Although the cabin hadn''t returned to him, the young mage did see a number of partial and whole goods, ranging from ration bars to special alcohols, in his space. It would be the stuff consumed by old companions that hadn''t made it to the higher dimensions or that had been stolen by natives. There were a lot of other random and interesting things in there as well but most of it was temporary. One or two reality jumps and the majority would be gone.


    "What''s up, ''P'' man? Your brain caught up yet?" Orison said with a reassuring smile.


    Patrick looked lost in more ways than one. "N-not really. None of this makes any sense."


    The young mage stuffed one of the two triangular spacial devices into Patrick''s hand. "This is a spacial device and inside are quite a few different things that look partially eaten or drank. Trust me on this. It''s all clean and wholesome but the containers have been compromised. They need to be consumed within a few weeks. "Go slow on the stuff in the right-hand corner. It''s the good stuff but too much good stuff at once can kill you. You got that?"


    The redheaded young man said, "I don''t know how to... open... it."


    Orison muttered to himself, "That''s right. Patrick doesn''t have the magical gift."


    Addressing the young man directly, he added, "The bars that are in the special foil and the alcohol in the blue/red bottles, eat a nibble of those or take a sip. Then, push what you can feel flowing in you towards the device."


    After a couple of awkward attempts, in a wondering and awe filled state, Patrick did as he was instructed. The guy was clothed, fed and slightly inebriated in short order.


    "Do that a few more days in a row and you should force open enough vestigial magic channels to do it on your own as long as there''s ambient magic around," Orison said.


    "I can become a mage!?" Patrick asked, slightly hyperventilating.


    Orison tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You can be an arcanist. There''s a withered reserve in you as well. So, becoming a wizard isn''t out of the question with time and patience. Oh, that''s right. You don''t know what those are in the way I''m using them.


    "The first only has some channels but has to rely on a power source or ambient magic to cast. The second has a reserve but refills it from the ambient magic around them, binding it into mental storage as partially precast spells. Most of that might not be important depending on your next decision.


    "Don''t feel too rushed but I need to know within the next couple of days. Do you want to become a part of a being larger than yourself or do you want to be dropped off some place where you can thrive as yourself. Don''t be too swift in discarding the first option.


    "I can tell you from firsthand experience that you don''t cease to be. You just merge with them and become a part of how they perceive the world. You''ll influence them and be a real part of them."


    "The other option is to follow me through some potentially dangerous experiences and being cut loose. I''d let you tag along but you can''t keep up and situations I''ll be potentially facing in the near future are too dicey for me to guarantee your safety to any reasonable degree."


    While Patrick dealt with that and asked a few clarifying questions about his current and possible future situations, Orison was attuning spiritual learning. The young mage was interrupted from deep trance and there was a murderous amount of backlog to deal with. Tying a portion of his healing soul''s computational power to passive and continuous comprehension of the laws hidden within the things the tower consumed would one day get him out of danger. If the key popped out before then, he would deep trance to death.


    In a surprising turn of events, Patrick said after a short hour of consideration, "Will it hurt?"


    The young mage studied his face. "The merge? No. It won''t feel like much of anything, really."


    With watery eyes, the redheaded young man said, "Then I choose that. I don''t feel strong enough to fight against things anymore."


    Orison sighed but didn''t comment on that.


    Instead, he said, "Alright. I need your help laying out a circle. If you don''t mind, you can keep your clothes and stuff but you don''t need the storage device or what''s inside."


    Over the next hour, as dusk slid over the land, the young mage had Patrick help him set up a summoning circle. The messages Duran and Medea had left in his spiritual seat were vague and mostly well wishes but the summoning circle was clear enough. He wouldn''t know the entity''s true name he was summoning after the ritual was complete but that didn''t bother him at all.


    Playing that side of the summoner''s game was dangerous and followed strange rules that were hard to follow. He could understand them better if he internalized their comprehension but that would be structure poison to his own version of summoning. Despite the benefits of calling on beings with their own power to bear, he''d stick with ones made from his own comprehensions. They didn''t induce debts.


    Looking at the complete circle, Patrick said, "What do I do now?"


    "If there''s anything you''d like to do or say while still completely you, now''s the time." the young mage replied.


    Ears turning a little red, Patrick said, "Could I have a little privacy for a few minutes?"


    Chuckling, Orison agreed and walked the perimeter of their burrow. There was a set of tracks that likely belonged to bugbears but they were a few weeks old and no other signs were visible outside of small animals. He focused on that and pretended he didn''t hear the name that Patrick shouted out before crying and numbing personal sorrows.


    When Orison felt a ripple of spacial energy, he returned to see that Patrick had finished the ritual without him. The only marker that the young redheaded man had left behind were a few empty wrappers and bottles. That didn''t mean that Orison was alone in the burrow, however.


    Daniel was standing in the circle. "Would you mind opening this thing. I really hate getting the same treatment as demons and devils."


    Weakly smiling, Orison cut the containment part of the circle and said, "I hear you on that."


    "I''ve been told that we''ve had many interactions with you in other branches of possibilities. Mind giving me a hand shake while I take a quick drink from my pitcher? I''d like to experience them," he said.


    Not seeing harm in it, the young mage shook the unassuming but competent man''s hand. After the first sip from the pitcher, Daniel''s eyes widened and the circle they were standing in flared to life. With a blur of scenery, they were standing above a clear pool with mud for miles around it. Vital water boiled and evaporated as Daniel ceaselessly chugged from his pitcher.


    Orison was excited at first. He dug around through his possessions for the device needed to isolate the positive energy plane rip below but saw nearly all of it invalidate, canceled out by a breach of causality.


    Sensing a need that aligned with its own, a slightly emotionless voice said, "Deply Rook for resource acquisition?"


    The young mage waited for a few minutes to answer as he waited for Daniel''s pitcher version of a ''keg stand'' to slow down. "Yes, deploy... Rook."


    A glass chess piece that was fashioned to look like a simple fort style castle fell out of his desolate realm, through his layered spaces and into the vital water below. What happened after that was a bit of a mystery to the young mage. He found himself wrapped up in his over robe as several consecutive pulses of power with a strong scent of decaying vegetation washed over him.


    At some point, the rook had returned to the chess set locked behind the Tower of Ruin''s door. It had went unnoticed by Orison. He had went from being bombarded with shamanistic reincarnation magic to basking in the ripples of several ''step'' rings forming around Daniel.


    Within the ambient ripples were ''living'' examples of laws the young mage was in the process of comprehending. He immediately sunk into light trance to make the most of it. A couple of days later, the remnant echoes of what had happened cleared from the environment to the point that Orison could no longer sense them. Within his desolate realm, a translucent and illusionary eighth ring was forming.


    As he focused on the outside world more keenly, the young mage''s spirit sight caught the after image of fifty-four rings turning into layered shells that sunk down into Daniel. It seemed that the unassuming man was visibly reliving the experience a few more times to gain some extra insight from it. The smile on his face gave Orison cold chills. There was something broken about it.


    With a desperate look in his eyes, still wearing a wide and eerie smile, the man croaked out, "Call me back."


    Daniel''s body turned to dust and the powerful soul within darted into the unknown.


    The young mage muttered, "What the hell, Daniel!? Am I supposed to wait here with your water pitcher for a couple of years to make sure you''re reborn somewhere? What, and hope your new body can handle being yanked through the nothing place my key uses?... I got things I want to do, man."


    In exasperation, he prepared to call once immediately but was stopped by a communication the moment he touched the abandoned pitcher.


    The slightly emotionless, almost mechanical voice said, "Request permission to acquire artifact."


    Orison frowned. "Permission denied."


    Instantly, a flurry of activity took place. The chess case fractured and broke releasing all the pieces. Orison noticed that the set wasn''t complete to begin with but after the disappearance of most of the remaining pieces, there wasn''t much left. A frosted knight, one clear and one frosted rook along with four pawns stayed. He noticed that among the rooks that left was the one that had taken the positive energy rift.


    Orison smiled nastily. "You think it''s that easy to swallow up benefits from me and then leave? We''ll see... Either one of you remaining rooks capable of holding that rift?"


    The voice of the knight that had saved him once before said, ??They are not sentient. The dark rook is capable. What needs to be done?"


    The young mage said, "It may or may not work but place the rook up to the key in the door."


    The frosted knight turned into armored form and picked up the rook, following Orison''s request. The young mage focused and pulled using the connections the pieces had. It worked smoothly. However, after the rook had acquired the rift, it and the remaining pieces began transforming, losing their chess piece appearance.


    The young mage said, "Gather up the sentient pieces and touch them to the key."


    The knight picked up two clear pawns that were growing and changing even as the knight did so. As soon as they were touching the key, Orison pulled hard enough to almost completely dislodge the key. A sense of danger erupted from the tower as it began spilling out more than the young mage could handle for long.


    Orison willed the key back in and by the time the tower''s trembling stopped, it was the key and himself that were faintly trembling instead. It would be some time before the key could be used for more than a flick of use safely. The young mage didn''t feel up to much either but tried to call Daniel back to his pitcher, making the key whine in faint protest.


    Daniel''s soul hovered around the pitcher for a brief moment before it would rush off again but the young mage grabbed and held it with intent. "Are either of the pawns that aren''t sentient, capable of being used as a vessel for an early tier five soul?"


    The knight responded, "One is capable but not suitable."


    It ended up being unneeded. Being forced to hover close to his conduit, Daniel was able to draw on its power to rebirth. While Orison watched him grow from a nearly microscopic meatball into a person, the knight returned to ''recharge'' mode after asking for and receiving Orison''s permission.


    Nearly an hour later, Daniel had reached the size of a five year old child. The young mage''s attention was drawn away from that event by the cracking of hardened mud nearby. An older woman in rags was released from within.


    Raspy and somewhere between terrified and joyous, she said, "You are plain ruthless, young man... I don''t suppose you have something suitable for me to wear on you?"


    Orison looked at the woman dubiously and said, "It depends. Are you going to attack me or attempt to steal from me or my friend?"


    She seemed to hover in indecision for a moment and then said, "I oath upon my core to do no harm to you or anyone present except in self defense until a year and a day have passed... No worries. I only intend to stay long enough to catch my bearings."


    The young mage dug into his space for something suitable for her to wear and a few items of convenience. In the process of handing them over, the woman raised the hand she was reaching out for the clothes with and blasted out a concentrated beam of light, puncturing through the over robe like it was paper.

 266 The Magician 24

    The old woman sniffed disdainfully. "Look behind you, fool. If I knew you were this soft and unprepared, I''d have fleeced you first and then showed you a little kindness."


    Not taking his eyes off her, he used spirit sight to note three figures that were riddled with holes. Moments after they fell, the would be attackers evaporated. Raising her head and sneering at him for all she was worth, she picked up a few items they had left behind in the large but gently sloping pit they were standing in.


    "I and a friend are acausal. All you would have done is send me to my backup vessel and p*ss off this guy''s mentor. And thank you, by the way." Orison said.


    A shower of light descended around her and she was dressed in the clothes the young mage had given her. "No need for threats. I''m well aware that you are less dangerous in your current pitiful state than what would happen if your soul was imperiled...


    "Refusing the chess board''s request for your friend''s conduit saved us all. We may have agreed to shelter and share our remaining strength to survive but that thing had no intentions of letting us go. Helping a weak little child survive some idiot pawns was the least I could do."


    More to himself than her, Orison said, "Should I not have reclaimed the resources those pieces ran off with? I may have accidentally hurt or endangered people that might not have deserved it."


    She laughed. "Oh you sweet thing. If you hadn''t, the white king or dark queen would have gobbled you up."


    She waved her hand and a few half transformed chess pieces crumbled to dust in her hands. After that, the woman started looking a little more real than Orison. In reply, the young mage exercised a bit of the key''s power to reclaim others in nearby extra-dimensional spaces the woman apparently couldn''t reach. Once the key ''ate'' them, some of those pieces'' power of existence trickled down to him, balancing things between them again.


    She smiled and said, "You cultivate some strange form of karma manipulation? Perhaps we could exchange a few pointers before I try to find my creator''s soul... Why does this place have so much spirit water but only poisoned and broken qi?"


    Orison said, "This is a planar fragment within a splay of realities not associated with cultivation. My insights aren''t related to cultivation or... Dao. Not in any way meaningful enough to exchange."


    Looking through his ''resources'', Orison picked out one non-sentient pawn that had transformed into a sword that required the foreign essence that cultivators used.


    As she took the blade, she chuckled bitterly. "First, you''ll have to show me a way back. Without directions, it could take me... a long time."


    Thinking for a moment, he said, "Do you feel confident enough in formations that you would be willing to try break through ones laid by a Nascent Soul level flood dragon? Otherwise, we''d be trapped there."


    Hope bloomed for a moment and then withered into deeper bitterness on her face. "Before I failed my void tribulation and became a spirit cultivator, it would have been easy enough but after everything..."


    "The garden I can take you to has a samsara fruit and I think I can maybe pick up a fruit of rebirth along the way there if my causal orders aren''t too screwed up," Orison said.


    The woman was on the verge of tears. "All of that would be fortune beyond fortune but I have no flesh and blood body to anchor me. Just jumping in any old body won''t... You said you have a vessel there?


    "It galls me a great deal and I''d have to learn much all over again but a rebirth fruit would allow me to match the body to the soul for the most part. I don''t know how being male would affect my teachings but I won''t quibble over the food at a banquet when I''m starving."


    It was Orison''s turn to look bitter. "It''s a woman''s body. It has some vestiges of dragon and fey, er, yaoguai bloodlines lingering in it too. So, converting it to a cultivator body wouldn''t be THAT difficult."


    She said, "Since a rebirth fruit will be involved, I''ll refrain from asking personal questions but... What are you wanting from this? A vague promise to look after a sibling and friend I may never meet doesn''t seem equal to the trade."


    Orison nodded. "There''s a man named Arazmus that''s trapped there as well. He can''t come back to this splay of reality because he''ll cease to exist. Help him become a cultivator. He has strong dragon heritage and he''ll be in a great deal of danger by himself."


    Smiling, she said, "I''d play Dao guardian for a complete trash 108 years if your offer is all it seems at face value... How do we get there?"


    The young mage said. "First, I have to wait for my friend to finish doing his thing over there. Then, I load you up into my spiritual realm and zip over to my other vessel. I hand over ownership and then return to finish."


    After offering to ''follow the karma'' alone, Orison added. "That vessel will only become completely real after I go to it. It''s in causal limbo, both real and not. It''s also in a semi ''no-when''. I only have one chance to go there and I''d like to at least explain what''s going on to him."


    She sighed and said, "I''ll go around and collect as many radiant spirit stones as I can, then. They aren''t very useful to me but they''re worth a good deal to the right cultivator."


    He tossed her the triangular storage device that he''d originally given to Patrick. "Pick up some extra for Arazmus too. That thing''s only going to be good for a couple of weeks where you''re going but that should buy you time to find a better alternative."


    It took a little explaining but she was happy it didn''t take blood to bind. That was one resource that she had very little of. Following lead, he summoned out a couple of small water elementals to go fishing for things in the mud as well. Outside of life crystals, there wasn''t much to find.


    Orison vaguely knew that there had been a rescue attempt here once before. He wasn''t sure how it turned out but there were no longer any bodies left to be found. He did manage to release a few trapped souls as he dug out crystal deposits, however.


    While he had been busy doing that, the two sentient pawns had moved into his key and became pact shadows. Although it irked him to have lost physical helpers, helping him collect power of existence was more long game useful anyway. What gave him the hardest mixed feelings was when he discovered that his key had drew in and ''ate'' the rook that carried the positive energy plane rift.


    He had no doubts that it would turn out for the best but the key was already stressed to the limits. Whatever the rook had added to its capabilities, Orison would have to wait some time to find out. What was worse, he could feel the key''s intent to take the other rook as well but couldn''t justify it under its own supernatural prerogative to serve its creator.


    Looking over what the rook had turned into, the young mage was slightly puzzled. It was a disk with a fat, sloping belly. Since the knight seemed to be knowledgeable of the pieces, he woke it up to explain. It was currently in a state of self repair and was some kind of transportation that had the ability to shrink and expand.


    Orison wanted to write it off as not overly useful to him for long but some ideas dawned on him. Those ideas would have to wait until it was repaired or the key was no longer bound up. If the ''flying saucer'' had decent deep space travel possibilities, then it was far from something he should be willing to easily discard. Not to mention, the knight in streamline armor was originally ''salvaged'' by it when it was operational.


    By the time that Daniel had finished growing to somewhere around fourteen, he opened his eyes. "Anything you want my help with before I go?"


    After all that had happened, the young mage almost didn''t know what to make of the terse question.


    "Actually, could you watch over MY body for a little bit? I need to escort this gracious lady to a place. I don''t plan on being gone long," Orison said.


    Daniel nodded and said, "I have to be back after fourty-three astral hours. I wondered why master started keeping me on a strict time table. Now I know why. I should have been tier five a long time ago."


    A little worried, Orison said, "When you say ''master'' are you a student or a servant?"


    The unassuming man shrugged. "Both is about right. If you''re worried about me, don''t be. It''s a mostly voluntary arrangement... Master''s going to be in a good mood when I return too. She always is after I fetch one of her spiritual echoes."


    Stunned, Orison slipped out, "Lily''s your master?"


    Looking confused, he said, "No. I think I''ve hear my master bring up the name a few times."


    It was the young mage''s turn to be confused but the lady cultivator was growing impatient. With apologies, Orison excused himself to handle business. It wasn''t overly complicated. He was disappointed to discover that Arazmus wasn''t able to be awakened, still in the throws of a perpetually stalled spiritual tug-of-war with an underworld that wanted to reclaim him and a cultivator world anchoring him in place.


    Due to logistics, Mei Ling couldn''t offer him a cut of the spoils she intended to claim but she promised to treat Arazmus well. The oaths were fair and she was understanding about possible misconceptions that Arazmus might have when he awoke despite the vessel conforming to Mei Ling''s aesthetics. With all meaningful words shared, because of her low energy, Orison had to quickly vacate.


    Returning to his own body, the young mage consulted Daniel on a few things before the man went about his own business. The brusqueness the unassuming man consistently displayed had little to do with ungratefulness. He was simply always on a stop watch.


    With an eye on his own time, Orison had Daniel drop him off back where he''d been abducted from. After finding out where the trail of instructions would lead him, the young mage balked hard at his friend''s and Lily''s intentions. There was no way he would go to a nexus point to get paired up with Gravat, new and improved or not.


    He didn''t really have any intentions of getting paired up with anybody but he didn''t want to go around by himself either. Thinking about the most useful but hassle free individual that would most likely still be available to abduct, he could only think of one person. Ready to burn the last bit of charge the knight had at any given moment, he went to see if he could get Edos.


    It became obvious that wasn''t an option pretty quickly. He was greeted by a beam shot from a wailing man statue and the dragon blooded centipede looking over the edge wasn''t sporting any damage on its head. When Orison attempted to use force after reason didn''t work, the world instantly kicked him out. He found out the hard way that the world the undead empire was on, didn''t welcome outsiders that were tier four.


    ???Damn, I forgot that last time I blackmailed the world will into leaving me alone," he said disgruntled.


    With no orienting directional points to draw from for dimensional travel, he went to the plane where he''d ran into Jarvis. The reincarnations of fellow Emerald Island outpost veterans were his goal. After some travel and a few minorly irritating encounters with creatures that posed the current him no difficulties at all, Orison discovered something incredibly disturbing about the ''branching world''.


    All of its reoccurring people were like hollow puppets. Souls merely passed through in one roll or another before moving on as a branch died off to be reabsorbed. Wherever Hefty and Mellow were, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack to find them. It did give him an idea, though.


    He skipped through to a branch where a relatively young Jarvis, hollow soul unoccupied, was getting ready to expire. Exercising as much key power as he could without risking the door opening again, he drew other alternate Jarvis'' the world wasn''t clinging to that tightly. He got five before the plane kicked him out.


    Immediately, the planar will entered into a tug-of-war session with him and the key started whining. Reading its maker''s need and understanding its own, it released a life crystal into Jarvis'' soul shell. The person before Orison underwent a metamorphosis that severed it from the Branching World as they floated over to the third material plane of the three that were tied together.


    As soon as they arrived, Orison could see that the possessed Jarvis was going to die. There was too much strain and shock. Taking a rebirth fruit he''d picked up from dropping off Mei Ling, he fed it to the man.


    The person laying before Orison several hours later was familiar yet not. There were tell-tell signs of Rogers family lineage. But it was packed into a body that was meant for killing, not getting picked for professional modeling or acting in superhero movies.


    Backing up to a relative safe distance, Orison said, "What is the name of the entity I''m speaking to?"


    The man sat up and locked dark gray, almost black eyes with him. "Seriously? Did you bring me from the land of the dead with a Ouija board? Alright, alright. Please lower the-Cane? Walking stick?-down. It''s Dustin. I know we didn''t spend that much time together but... damn, that stings."


    The young mage had to rack his memories to dredge up what he knew about that particular Rogers family member. It had been buried deep and nearly forgotten entirely.


    Orison sat down on the ground and pondered. "There''s no confusion at all? There''s five versions of Jarvis that should be floating around in there."


    Dustin took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a few minutes. "I know a great deal more than I used to but no... Ha! Would you look at that!?"


    The man made a gesture and a small symbol lit up in the air before a spurt of fire flew about three feet away and died. Orison would have dismissed the bit of flashy magic but it didn''t run off of the essence that the young mage was intimately familiar with. It was something older and less tame. It stirred something older and less tame within himself as well.


    "What kind of magic was that?" the young mage asked, more than a little curious.


    Dustin said, "I, uh, deep magic. Some call it eldritch magic, I think."


    With a fanatic gleam in his eyes, Orison asked, "Are there prerequisites for using it?"


    The Rogers man stood up and said, "Yeah. Something called eldritch blood. Thing is, I don''t think its actually blood. Not blood as I know it anyway... Mind helping me with this... set of leathers? When you regrew me like a clone, they don''t fit right. They''re kind of tight in the wrong places."


    Orison absentmindedly hit his outfit with a mend and a presto. "Lets get an inn room for a few days. We have some catching up to do and you''ve definitely got some things to show me. I wonder why I never saw the original Jarvis do that eldritch magic stuff."


    As they walked, Dustin explained what little he knew about it. It was dangerous to over use it in ways typical magic wasn''t. It didn''t make a person tired so much as damaged and twisted them. His best guess was that Jarvis had overused it a few too many times and decided it wasn''t worth the risk to use it anymore at all.


    ***


    Over the next few days, Dustin spent time recovering up to full snuff. He balanced his time between light practice, teaching Orison the foundation of eldritch magic and relaxing in the inn. He took the news of his world ceasing to exist fairly well. Knowing that some of his family had made it under someone''s protection and that souls moved on to other things helped.


    Dustin didn''t exactly know what happened to himself but he knew that Garret was under Bab''s watch. She had pulled herself back from some underworld and hit the divide between mid and high dimensions. So, the Rogers man was assured that one of his sons was still just that.


    It wasn''t that he cared about Gurrut less. THAT son of his consciously decided to live a simpler life and Dustin respected that. He never really got to know Gurrut outside of what Garret and Babs had told him but he had grieved and moved on from that personal loss quite some years before his memory hit a dark wall.


    "I''m surprised that you never had more children. I was under the impression you were somewhat of a womanizer," Orison said after a tutoring session.


    Dustin replied dryly, "You''d be surprise how much of my reputation was my sister''s doing. Gurrut''s mother, I never would have met her if it hadn''t been for a bet my sister lost using my safety as the collateral. If the drinks are on you, I''ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Tonight, I think you''re ready to have your eldritch blood kindled. Honestly, it''s like I''m helping you remember the magic rather than teaching you."


    The young mage smiled. "It feels like that."


    The ritual was fairly simple. Aside from some protective sigil work, Dustin pushed a touch of eldritch source essence into Orison. If there was something for it to latch to, it would catalyze. As long as the person being kindled had some basic knowledge on how to direct and store it, then all was well. The real danger came in the years that followed.


    What neither of them expected was that the kindling was the catalyst for something else as well. The moment Dustin''s eldritch source essence touched the invisible spiritual bloodline within Orison, they were ripped away from the reality they were in. It wasn''t a pleasant experience.

 267 The Magician 25

    They rammed into some kind of barrier that barely accepted their passage. It scraped and scratched at them. Aside from themselves, that the young mage was holding together with will and a constant exercise of healing power, the only thing to survive crossing that barrier was the over robe and cane. There could have been other things within his space. But it would be some time before it stabilized enough for spirit sight to verify.


    Physical memory and even the outer most active spiritual memory were squeezed and battered, leached of color and vibrancy. That is, except for pain. The agony was a fresh, persistent companion for the whole handful of eternal seconds it took to arrive at their destination. Every one of which threatened to undo them.


    Although it was hard to tell in the moment, it was very much akin to the feeling of the first few step baptisms in the lower dimensions but ramped up to hellish intensity. It was the first coherent physical thought Orison had as they flopped around in infantile helplessness.


    The pain had subsided but the ability to process sensory input or exercise motor skills were scrambled. It could have been mere minutes or days for things to reorganize themselves. But even after things started making sense again, the young mage''s emotions and attention span were like a radio being fiddled with by a person who couldn''t figure out which station they wanted to listen to.


    The only fortunate part was, wherever they were, it was a sumptuous and old fashioned manor rather than some wild and inherently dangerous place. The maid who was caring for them was also patient and considerate. Once they were coherent enough to ask questions, she was more than happy to chat away. She didn''t even take it personal when she lost their attention after a couple of minutes.


    They were in Rothschild manor. From gathered clues, it seemed that they were in a post Industrial Revolution United Kingdoms. There were some pretty huge differences, though. After all, the world was nearly twenty percent bigger.


    This growth phenomenon occurred on a day called the Morning of Grand Summoning. On MOGS day, a slew of powerful supernatural creatures spread to every corner of the dying world, saving it from its imminent destruction. Historical accounts widely differed on the course of events for nearly a year afterwards. A few things were indisputable, however.


    There was a lot of collateral damage that took nearly thirty years to recover from. During that time, the world underwent some dramatic changes. Life on the planet was irrevocably altered. Most were in minor ways but some were a great deal less subtle.


    Even as some people started sporting non-human features, other creatures and sentient species were appearing in different places. Whole villages or compounds of ''new folks'' suddenly sprang up wholesale in expanded stretches of land, while examples of ''exotic variations'' in humanity appeared in the midst of family and friends. Understanding and adapting relied heavily on the ''natives'' reaching out and heeding the wisdom of the ''refugees''.


    The recovery wasn''t ideal and tensions were a low simmer in every corner of the world but people were pulling together for the most part. The ''brave new world'' required cooperation. Without it, the variety of challenges faced would have overwhelmed and cowed the world into another dark age.


    In one moment of fancy, Orison thought, ???I always wondered what it would take to create a steampunk world. Who knew the answer was merely a little more gravity and a touch of neutralized ''miasma''."


    On a personal note, crossing over had done a great deal to the young mage. It was as if the world he found himself on was composed of different laws entirely. The solid foundation of concepts he had built was suddenly filled with gaping holes. Consolidating that would take time and only had one immediate benefit. The over abundance of metaphysical resources hidden within the desolate realm had plenty of room to flow into.


    Once again, Orison found himself a pseudo tier four. To make matters more complicated, magic was all but busted. It wasn''t simply a matter of relearning models. The essence of magic itself felt too nebulous and weak to work outside of himself.


    When he''d ran out of safe things to try, he mentioned it to Dustin. The Rogers man stepped up to an open window and fired off a glowing sigil that didn''t seem to do anything. He tried another that produced a concentrated jet of heat and held the same frown the first result produced but Orison grew excited. Unfortunately, Dustin''s arm started convulsing, putting an end to the trial.


    The Rogers man shook his head. "The sigil of repulsion would barely throw a fully armored man off his feet. And the ''gout of flame'' sigil, it MIGHT permanently blind someone at point blank range."


    The young mage''s laugh was nearly obscene. "You have no idea how important what you just did was. I''m a mage who couldn''t use magic but you showed me how to. In short order, I''ll at least have some novice level stuff to throw around... Here, let me show you something."


    Orison walked over and put his hand on Dustin''s heart point. After having the Rogers man focus his intent inward, the young mage ran a slight touch of eldritch essence through blood vessels. That touch of essence was pulling a train of magic essence like a pack of peaceful and obedient dogs throughout the man''s body.


    Dustin''s eyes lit up. "I can pack my body with magic and the world around me will hold it in place almost effortlessly. No more slow leaks!"


    The young mage nodded. "Let that little dot of eldritch essence bind up the dead miasma and then expel it once you''re done... It''s best of both. The pressure outside holds the magic in place and the magic within keeps the spent eldritch essence out."


    As he wandered away from the meditating Rogers man, he thought, "Who knew? The eldritch essence Dustin brought to my attention is personal ''miasma'' or chrism in gas state. The stuff has an inert version just like spirit essence does. But unlike inert spirit essence, dead miasma only hinders and traps other essences.


    "That''s a deep rabbit hole... I mean, Greater Reality itself might just be a big extra dimensional collection of essence cycling within an immeasurably large, dead outsider. No, it could very much be alive!


    "That''s so far beyond me, I can barely begin to fathom. What tier would that be? If tier six is equal to a world god, a creator of realities, would that make tier seven like the managers of entire splays of existence? Since there''s a higher dimension I know almost nothing about, it seems pretty likely that there''s got to be something between the hypothetical tier seven and whatever a holder or creator of a greater existence would be."


    The young mage''s inner contemplation was interrupted by a polite cough. He and Dustin turned in unison to the source. A calm and confident looking older gentleman stood just outside the door of their convalescence room. It took a moment to place that it must be their host.


    Giving his best smile, Orison said, "Mr Rothschild, I presume?"


    A ghost of an affable smile crossed the man''s face. "Please, call me Nathan. I''ve been informed that your recovery has progressed to a reasonably decent point. Would the two of you like to tour the grounds with me or would you prefer to retire to my study?"


    It seemed that Dustin was ready for fresh air and sunshine but Orison was far too filled with burning questions. Nathan was more than happy to provide a guide for the Rogers man as he invited the young mage to follow him. A couple of minutes later, as they sat in a comfortable room that gave off a vibe between clerical office and den, the man offered Orison a little brandy before dismissing the butler.


    Mr Rothschild said, "Allow me to be blunt. You were brought here by a ritual that was performed by Rio almost two years ago. We had thought it failed. And in some ways, it actually did.


    "He was trying to summon his older brother who had went missing for some time. Rio himself disappeared for a short while after that and was returned a much younger person with little recollection of his previous life here. If you''d like to reunite with him, he currently resides with his eldest son under the guise of his own illegitimate child."


    The young mage said, "That sounds incredibly awkward, possibly even painful, for both of them."


    Nathan quirked an eyebrow, "Indeed."


    "If it''s not private in nature, what was used in the ritual as focus?" Orison asked.


    The older man rubbed his chin. "Hair from Zoe''s brush, I believe. Were that she was still around. I''ve gained much from mutual cooperation with her son but he is a flighty and distant person."


    In confused shock, the young mage asked, "Is she deceased!?"


    Mr. Rothschild replied, "Heavens, no. The world of men no longer held appeal to her after she gave up on convincing Neil to become an Old One. There was no doubt in anyone''s mind that he loved her and his sons. But, he had no desire to join our side of things.


    "Begging your indulgence on some inquiries of my own, I have much curiosity about your experiences. The greatest of which would be how crossing into our set of realities affected you. I''m also prepared to fairly exchange mystical knowledge."


    A faint intuition warned the young mage not to divulge too much. There was something about Nathan that didn''t sit well with him. He was also fairly certain the man had slipped him drugs in the brandy. But whether it was himself or Dustin, they both had special constitutions that made all but the more lethal poisons and the most potent of alcohols fairly ineffective.


    He said, "If I''m not off base about slipping through the border between splays of realities, I can say that a person holding power weaker than the equivalent of a land god shouldn''t. Too much is lost... In the long run, that''s probably a good thing. It probably represents the consolidation of concepts into greater, more universal ones.


    "But without enough concepts to retain a semblance of structure to one''s supernatural gifts, it would make most no better than a powerless mortal. That''s assuming they could survive the trip. I was fortunate enough that the thing which caught me in the summoning also adapted me to having some semblance of power here, as well."


    Warming up to the topic, Nathan said, "In inverse, you should possess some knowledge that would make one capable of surviving going to where you came from."


    Orison smiled faintly and shook his head. "Far too many variables in that, I''m afraid. My own inevitable attempt to return is its own set of adversities that hold no guarantees. Given some time and exploration of this world, I''d have more solid information to share."


    The older man''s amicable smile slipped into a slight frown that held an edge to it.


    Orison chuckled and added, "I CAN share a few useful kernels of information, however... Your soul is slightly leached of color, indicating a dulling of emotion. Whatever has lead to that loss should be addressed before it becomes worse. It''s not an overly known fact. But, emotion is a key component in the growth of natural strength for one''s soul.


    "It''s a sad state of conflicting interest. Cool composure and an ability to ignore the clamoring of irrational desires might make for more convenience in studying the art but it hinders creativity and the ability to garner insight. Without which, all we become capable of is wrote learning. That''s a major obstacle when teachings are rare or difficult to obtain."


    Nathan''s frown turned into a scowl but the man didn''t argue.


    Conversely, Orison was feeling a little happier. "It''s a bit of a stretch but it strikes me that you might be acquiring power from an outside source. If part of that pact or a component of what you receive requires the sacrifice of emotion, you are undoubtedly being backed into a corner.


    "Over time, once your growth stagnates or you require something like an extension of lifespan, you''ll be primed to make greater and greater sacrifices. Each one will be a devastating compromise to make up for what previous sacrifices hinder you from acquiring on your own. Inevitably, you''ll be nothing more than a tool, an extension of your patron."


    In a low and commanding voice, Mr. Rothschild said, "I''ll neither confirm nor deny another person''s assumptions. But assuming that yours were accurate, how would you deal with that situation?"


    The young mage thought about it and said, "If I was to find myself in the situation I have assumed that you''re in, I would analyze my patron to find out what their drives and motivations are. I would attempt to acquire the best bait I could and lure them back to the negotiating table with it. Since you are first and foremost a business man, I would assume that you''ve already began doing so but found it too difficult.


    "The cabal that you undoubtedly have working for you would prove a ruinous thing to lean on too heavily. There''s likely to already be members eyeballing your lion''s share and coveting it. Not to mention, your patron already has likely taken one or two of them under their tentacles as replacements if you fall or become problematic to their goals."


    Nathan''s scowl slowly turned upwards into a false and saccharine smile. "So, it''s an unhelpful suggestion and another assumed difficulty? As a benefactor who aided you in your time of need, why would you BAIT me?"


    Orison said, "That''s not completely my intention. I outline the potential direness of your current situation for the sake of emphasizing the NEED for swift correction. This isn''t something capable of being sat on and pondered. Every moment allows obstacles to become more difficult to overcome.


    "I''m not speaking out of the side of my mouth here. I''ve been ensnared so thoroughly before that an army of powerful allies barely gave me a way out. The outer gods and even the great old ones are mostly made of entities more ancient than humanity itself and far more cunning than we can possibly hope to become. That being said, it''s not hopeless."


    "The easiest and most assured solution would be to safely dismantle your own usefulness to your patron. Pass authority to another cabal member and disburse your assets in ways that would allow you to live out the rest of your days in comfort. Ensure you still have the resources and connections needed to make targeting you more trouble than it''s worth.


    Nathan chuckled mirthlessly. "That''s even less useful than your first piece of advice. I hope you are leading up to something of actual merit."


    The young mage nodded. "Of course. Everything I''ve said isn''t untrue, though. The trappings of comfort, pleasure and luxury are OUR bait, our weakness... Before I continue, I need to ask you a question. Is one of the names of your patron the Black Pharaoh or the Faceless One?"


    "And if the answer was yes?" Mr. Rothschild said.


    Orison sighed. "Then associating with me would earn Their displeasure. Little would please Them more than harming or hindering me in Their name... Make no mistake. It would please Them but they would be forced to punish you and end Their patronage, all the same. It has something to do with old agreements I don''t fully understand."


    With another quirk of eyebrow, the older man said, "Then thankfully for both of us, that is not the case. You''ll pardon me for not revealing any more than that.???


    The young mage said, "Good. Then all I need from you is an oath to do me or mine no harm as long as I do no harm to you or yours in return. Fortunately for us, this isn''t a devil''s game. For the most part, alien outsiders are far too removed from humanity to enjoy complex games of treachery... I assume you''re not so bored as to engage in such things for pleasure or sport?"


    Nathan didn''t answer the question but he did give the oath and requested it in return. Both of them added a clause of not ''intentionally harming'' rather than promising no harm.


    With the formality out of the way, Orison continued, "It will be costly but sacrifice the things you collected to entice them in the name of clearing your spiritual debts. Make no requests of nor draw upon their power. You have delved enough into the lore and art to enact ritual to cover some of your need for supernatural assistance. A patron is a crutch. If you want to grow into your own power, you need to start by rehabilitating your ability to stand on your own.


    "To help you get started, I have a few notes and a few novice models I''ve been writing down as we''ve been talking. They won''t work immediately but a little experimenting and tweaking will get them to functional. You have the means to find sources of this eldritch essence outside of your patron and the ability to draw on magic. Now, the choice is yours. You may not be cut out to be The Magician but you are now aware of the cost behind being The Hierophant."


    He didn''t refuse the offer but Orison could tell that Nathan was feeling bitter and unsure.


    The young mage said, "If you need some assistance from an inspirational point of view, look at your situation with The Star and The Hanged Man in mind. I''ve reached the end of how much assistance I can directly give without creating complications and entanglement between us.


    "Believe me. That is not something you want. If I find something more tangible to aid you while I''m roaming about, we can enter some good faith exchange for it. "Regardless of your reason for doing so, you''ve been a pillar of support for people I''ve cared about. It helps your case that I''m not a big fan of forced servitude. My brushes with... Them... hasn''t exactly left me with a favorable impression either."

 268 The Magician 26

    The man made quick work of it. The young mage could see the wheels turning in Mr. Rothschild''s head as he mulled over the value of what Orison provided.


    He said, "Magic is a rare and expensive commodity. Mundane life here is much as you''d expect it to be for the late Victorian era. There are fantastic and odd additions to the population. But after the last thirty years, things have come to a fragile equilibrium."


    After pulling some items from a desk cabinet, he man handed Orison a plain leather wallet, a sponsored visa and a small pouch of gold coins. "I don''t expect that you''ll be lingering around for long. That should be sufficient to see you comfortably provisioned for awhile. Just remember, gentleman make financial exchange with guineas.


    "...Don''t try to replicate bank notes. At great cost, The Crown has devised a way to find them and their maker quite efficiently. For similar reasons, don''t exercise bolder or more destructive magics in public. Goodwill usage is acceptable but don''t pedal magic goods or services openly either."


    After giving the young mage a few more pieces of social advice and some directions to important places, Nathan sunk back into his chair looking older than his years.


    On his way out the door, Orison turned and said, "From my point of view, you weren''t wrong for taking the opportunity presented to you back then in the museum. We all have different starting points on the path. No matter where we start, no matter what aid or companionship we have, the climb itself is a solitary endeavor. Whether it''s to become a climber in truth or a redeemed soul that belongs to itself, I have no doubts you can succeed."


    Mr Rothschild gave him a ghost of a smile and said, "Have a care for yourself. As a foreigner that British sentiment doesn''t come natural to, I''d suggest heading over to ''the colonies'' as soon as possible. It''s a relatively lawless place but that would be to your advantage."


    Reading between the lines, the young mage realized that Nathan saw him as a potential competitor of some kind. To maintain friendly relations and possible mutual benefit, the man was encouraging him to rove further afield. He didn''t know if he''d take Mr Rothschild''s advice or not but he knew that he had little desire to stay in England.


    As a manservant with ram horns led him to where Dustin was, he briefly pondered about Jennifer. Orison had originally planned on saying hi but the maid had informed him that she lived on a country estate. It seemed that the husband and wife were politely estranged. That alone wouldn''t have given the young mage pause but he hadn''t been that close to her and Nathan might take an unscheduled visit out of context.


    The carriage ride provided for them to the nearest town, passed in silence. It wasn''t that they didn''t have information to share. It felt like someone was watching them and Orison spotted cleverly hidden sigils meant to spy on its passengers.


    Once they had been dropped off at a public transit hub, it was as if a tension within them had disbursed. Orison went to buy them tickets for the next coach to Liverpool while Dustin went to the general store to buy a few necessities and something for them to eat later on the road. A few minutes later they met back up for the last bit of waiting time til the next coach ran.


    After Orison had shared what he had learned, it was Dustin''s turn to spill. "I figured some stuff out that has me on edge about this world. It''s hard to tell at first glance but I can see signs of my world, maybe even the others connected to it from ''up higher''."


    Orison nodded. "The dying world was in the mid forties when it was ''saved'' on MOGS Day. These people are totally acclimated to their apparent 1880s calendar date. No big surprise since we''re in a whole different splay of reality anyway. I get the distinct impression that shadows of a handful of invalidated worlds were forcefully merged into this one somehow."


    The Rogers man said, "That''s just it. I don''t think there was a world HERE before the Morning of Grand Summoning. If there was, it was a dead one. What we''re seeing is the averaging out of everything that was shoved together.


    "You know I was Rowdies. I had a decent chunk of experience traveling between a world and planar fragments. This world feels like a collection of planar fragments. In a couple of decades all the rough edges might smooth out and stop feeling that way. But at the moment, all the different pieces aren''t fit together solidly."


    Orison thought on it and said, "I don''t know how it got to this point but I know about MOGS Day intimately. I was the one who did that."


    Dustin looked at him wide eyed and asked, "How!?"


    Orison said, "It''s not as big of a ''wow'' moment as you might think. I just used some know-how to free a collection of powerful entities from one place, ferried them over to the dying world and asked a small favor for freeing them.


    "Honestly, I only managed to pull that off because some of them needed to do what I was asking anyway. Being trapped where they were, some of the more exotic ones were essentially starving. All I did was ask them to hunt the alien outsiders on the dying world. Even the ones who didn''t need to do it for sustenance still had a belly full of anger over their long years of forced servitude."


    A voice spoke, belonging to a man neither of the two sensitive people had noticed until he had done so. "It all leads back to you. That wasn''t all you had done, though. It''s merely all that you still remember doing."


    Both Orison and Dustin flew off the bench and into combat ready stances.


    The dapper English gentleman tipped his hat to them in greetings. "Apologies for startling you. Your godson, Benjamin asked me to keep a watchful eye for your arrival. But alas, two years is quite some time to ask for steady vigilance."


    Not letting down his guard in the slightest, Orison said, "I don''t know a Benjamin personally, much less one that can claim to be my godson. As far as I know, I only have one of those."


    The man chuckled and said, "Oh, Rio. Naming him your godson was more of an afterthought for poor Neil. No, Benjamin was actually christened in church to be your godson. The priest allowed such a thing because it was considered a postmortem gesture. You see, Neil thought you were dead at the time."


    To buy him a little time to process that, Orison asked, "And where do you fit in all of this?"


    "The vagaries of that aren''t important since you accidentally erased my existence. No worries. As you can see, I''m alive and well. Since that can also ultimately be laid at your feet, there''s no hard feelings. A shame I can no longer be considered family in the physical sense but I''m still a friend," the man said with a chipper smile.


    Orison said, "If you were a descendant of mine, not just Piran''s, I can restore that. Whether that''s a good or bad thing, I couldn''t tell you."


    The man smiled widely and said, "What a delightful and unsought surprise. I''d be most grateful and honored if you would."


    Seeing the young mage reaching for the man, Dustin said, "Maybe doing this out in the open isn''t such a great idea?"


    Chuckling, Orison replied, "It doesn''t matter that much but I see your point, Dustin... Well, is there something I can call you or are we just supposed to keep calling you ''sir'' when you''re supposedly family?"


    The man tipped his hat again and said, "Randall Walter Black... Please, call me Randall."


    After passing a few more minutes in polite conversation, they boarded up on the coach.


    Nearly an hour down the road, Orison looked around and said, "This looks a good a spot as any."


    The Rogers man still looked uneasy but shrugged as Randall waited in affable patience.


    As Orison reached out a hand, Mr. Black said, "I''m not inconveniencing you in any way, am I?"


    The young mage laughed and said, "If you''re still asking questions like that while you''re obviously eager to be restored, I can believe you''re my family, alright."


    Randall nodded and reached for Orison''s hand. Once the young mage initiated the pull, he immediately noted his key screaming in distress. It had only done so one time before, And at that time, he had been trying to break off a fading branch of reality.


    In the following violent out-pour of spiritual resources, as the key dislodged from the tower door, Orison asked, "Who are you really?"


    With an affected look of righteous indignation, Randall said, "I am no more and no less than who I claimed to be, grandson."


    While Randall''s eyes glowed a brilliant electric blue, Dustin went to shank him with a belt knife. With the last bit of strength that Orison had left, he pushed the Rogers man out of the coach.


    "Promise me you won''t go after anyone else and I''ll let you keep what you''re taking. Otherwise, I''ll destroy us both," he panted out through sunken cheeks as his skin grew more sallow by the moment.


    "You are no longer in any position to-" Randall''s gloating speech was cut off as a set of hands belonging to Zoe''s son and a lot of different mammal breasts Orison assumed belonged to her, transported them to another place.


    Randall was about to ''righteously'' defend himself when he was pulled to the ground and pinned there by unknown forces.


    Benjamin said, "If you want to use loopholes in the oaths you swore during the beginning of creation, expect that others will exploit them as well. Mother, let us return our friends and allies from oblivion."


    It was the last thing Orison heard.


    ***


    Reduced to little more than destroyed pieces of soul core once again, They drifted through the void slowly unraveling. Some force tried to reach Them, pull Them back together but failed at the final step. The remnant consciousness within mentally sighed.


    A cool, metallic hand reached out and pressed the pieces together. A psionic ''mayday'' was issued out by an almost emotionless voice. The knight was soon joined by two astral entities that only vaguely resembled old tales of Oberon and Titania.


    They didn''t help for free. The metal knight beggared all the possessions it had managed to gather besides the shrunk ship, an over robe that refused to be separated from the soul pieces and a strange but rather uninteresting device. Once paid, the two mercenary astral entities darted out to find any pieces of the broken soul they could find and lend a little astral essence to begin fusing Them together.


    Once done with their main task, up to what they believed the pay to be worth, they escorted the knight and roughly stitched together soul back from the void. Within the bounds of structured existence, multiple different frustrated powers latched onto the soul as the knight ceased functioning. Sensing its main savior getting left behind, the soul called out for it.


    The wicked looking witch of a woman, kicked the metal knight towards the soul and said, "Consider it ''after service'', pauper."


    Loose and broken, the soul did what it could to take the knight, disk, and device into its ruined inner realm before it was pulled to parts unknown.


    ***


    A radically mixed group of entities and people looked down at the broken soul.


    Benjamin''s voice said, "He will be safe and protected from the eyes of his tormentor. To remain so, the aid we can provide cannot be more than what his soul can carry and have no ties to ourselves. Mother and I have kindled him. That is the best we can do."


    Sammy said, "I sho don''t believe how dat Reese babe sneaked out of my realm all thief-like. Took my bes drink an nearly erased herself to keep from being caught. But because she did, I have dat at least. I can an don''t mind lettin his soul get a taste of my Ganymead. Jus a few drops mind. He can''t handle any mo dan dat."


    Noxflora added, "Oh, father, no one knew how great the price of our victory would be. I have little to give that would not tie you to us."


    A young woman''s voice said, "There are many within your realm, including us, that are willing to place a mote of spiritual wisdom within his soul."


    A harsher older woman''s voice said, "Sammy said that little toy of his has several... gigs... of hard driving? We can also lend him some of our knowledge as well. Though, I am unsure how we will down the loading."


    Justice''s voice cut in, "The hand held gaming device can take pictures. If you can organize what you wish to show on pages it will save them as jpegs. What I''m curious to know is how he can take it with him. The strange disk and knight robot are somehow connected but the game console is not."


    Benjamin said, "The cane that''s merged inside the soul bound robe has a small storage gem. It will fit in that. How glad I am to have fashioned them out of chrism from a fallen foe and not my own. Otherwise, we would have had to excise them, causing further trauma."


    While the majority began bickering over best use of the small space in the cane, Noxflora said, "General, is there no token of gratitude and sincerity you would like to contribute?"


    A dark, gravelly voice said, "Well... There are a few beauties in the sin squad. I could bind one to him to serve as a concubine."


    A sharp, menacing woman''s voice said, "My sister would hunt you down should you ever poke your head into the higher dimensions, demon. A token will do. She''s more resourceful and far sighted than the lot of you combined... Danny, give him a touch of your water so he can remember-I know what I''ve told you but a little will do no harm and open up some possibilities besides."


    A little heated, Noxflora said, "You would not say that if Keita was standing with us today! Were it not for the need of what you have brought to our plan, I wouldn''t stand for your sister''s... arrangements, unchallenged!"


    The demon cleared his throat and said, "Mitchell, you have debts to this person. Here''s your chance to clear it. How do you want to serve?"


    A crisp military voice barked, "I''d rather face oblivion, sir!"


    With a dark chuckle the demon said, "Glad you volunteered."


    Mitchell''s change of heart and wholehearted proclamation to serve was cut short. "I''m sure your witches can use these materials to make something useful, my queen?"


    In a half musical, half demented giggle, Noxflora said, "Why, I do believe they can... High Priestess, augment the robe and... stick to something that matches the grandeur of our lord father."


    A twisted and raspy voice said, "He wasn''t a man to appreciate gaudy baubles. Will elegant and useful suffice? We are under a harsh time constraint."


    The sharp woman''s voice whispered to the soul. "I don''t know what my sister sees in you beyond your ability to stir trouble on an epic scale but don''t make her wait too long or I''ll make you suf- well, make you wish you''d never been saved."


    ***


    Dual flashes of light shot from two crystal coffins. As they opened, a redheaded woman looked over at the deep elf man and said, "By your true name, awaken Winter."


    The deep elf man''s eyes fluttered for a few minutes and finally steadied.


    He said, "So, how''d it go, Orison?"


    She laughed angrily. "It was botched so bad that the astral siblings had to collect my pieces. By the way, cross them off the Christmas card mailing list. They price gouged the hell out of my knight and I almost lost them."


    "Then why bother? You should have sent your pact shadows to do it," the deep elf said.


    She shook her head resolutely. "I wanted to know. I NEEDED to know, out of all of the ones I sacrificed so much to return, who was actually worth it."


    Smiling wickedly, the deep elf asked, "And were they?"


    The redheaded woman sighed. "Hard to say. They made good gestures at the end but what does that matter when I was used to the edge of oblivion to squeeze as much out of Gnarly as they could get? All I can say for certain is that Zoe''s gone full outsider and her son is fairly balanced but mercenary as hell.


    "Noxflora is as much a mystery to me as she''s ever been but her people are in my good books for sure. Oh well. I knew she favored Piran anyway. E for effort.


    "But enough of that. How was the lifetime of role switch you made me promise you so long ago? I know there was supposed to be a kid involved but you know why I can''t. Until I beat the mystery of my tower... I can''t bear another tragedy of that kind, Winter."


    The deep elf nodded in sad understanding before switching to a smirk. "Does it really count when neither of us truly knew who the other was? I say you still owe me one... I know Cray would be game. Would being the queen of two terrifyingly competent men be so bad?"


    "Not nearly as good as being the king of two terrifyingly competent women... Never mind. I really can''t picture Cray as a woman. It kind of scares me a little... No, we had our run and I don''t know how long it will be before I make it up there. I want you guys to be happy and move forward, not shuffling your feet for a day that might never come."


    Sad nostalgia drifted across Winter''s face. "There''s always avatars. That''s not really cheating."


    The redheaded woman said, "It is. It''s cheating in your heart and being dishonest on top."


    She walked over to the deep elf and kissed him as she hugged him for all she was worth. "I wish I could hold my woman one last time but... Goodbye Winter. I''ll always love you."


    The woman fell to dust as a shadow grabbed hold of the soul along with the mysterious and powerful pages in her coffin.


    With no one to witness, Winter took her original form and slumped to the floor crying. "Do you really think we''ll be that happy without you? Maybe in time... But you didn''t have to cut yourself out of our lives to keep us safe. We''re not made of glass."

 269 The Magician 27

    "Woah! Awaken Gan!" the shadowy figure said.


    The man''s form subtly shifted into a more recognizable one.


    Once Gan''s eyes stopped fluttering, he said, "What do you want, shade!?"


    The pact shadow huffed. "Hey! There''s no need for name calling... I came to let you know you''re on the wrong trail. You''re heading towards Piran but the person you spent your last lifetime with was Halda. She only looked like ''White''.


    The scout looked poleaxed.


    The entity continued. "I was swinging by to pick up something from her. I figured that since you were on the way, I''d stop by and point you in the right direction. Here''s a marker, by the way. Oh, here''s the one for your eldest son too. I''ve already swung by there to give greetings and have a conversation with Oleander... Yeah, I was like ''They aren''t sick of each other yet!?'' too."


    Gan said, "Are they climbers now?"


    "Oh, uh, not technically. Oleander took her demigod mantle back up in Noxflora''s Sapphire Realm. She just took your boy along for the ride. Be sure to at least drop by for a visit. I know they''d be tickled to see you and Halda again," the pact shadow said.


    Looking lost for a moment, the scout finally said, "Thanks."


    The shadow chuckled. "Don''t thank me. Thank Orison. You know, the guy you completely forgot about while you were following Piran around."


    The morose man took on an even more pitiful look and said, "Tell him that I''m sorry. I... I only thought he was just one of Piran''s parts. I really didn''t know until later and-"


    The shadow, suddenly sounding a bit nervous said, "Hey, don''t sweat it. I was just busting your balls. He was more upset about your nosedive, to be honest. Go find your boo, visit your past life munchkins and then go have a blast, man. That''s all he really wants.


    "Tell him that he''ll always have a place in my house... no-no strings attached. Sometimes a man needs a best friend more than he needs a lover. I know it might not be the same but... Just tell him that," The scout said awkwardly.


    The shadowy figure gave a sloppy salute and said, "Righty-o! Well, I better be on my way. A pact shadow''s work is never done. Really. It''s a twenty-four, 365 kind of gig. But the perks, you can''t beat them."


    After they parted ways, a spiritual communication came from the phantom key resting unseen in the pact shadow''s hand, "That was highly unnecessary and kind of inappropriate."


    "Yeah, I felt that you weren''t happy about my ad-lib. But... aren''t you kinda glad I did? I mean, he just wants his buddy back," the shadow said with jittery hopefulness.


    The pact shadow thought about it and said, "I''ll probably revive in some seedy ashtray of a reality, find some evil dominatrix type and simp my way to destitution and despair again... Keep me marked. I plan on becoming a return employee."


    Wryly, Orison''s soul projected, "Well, it''s nice to know you have a plan. If you stick around long enough to train a couple of juniors, you''ve got a deal. Got to keep my Ponzi scheme going... I joke. I try to be as fair as I can... As an insider, what do you think of it?"


    As the shadow zoomed through ''no-where'' they said, "You give a sad-sack nobody a little power to throw around in life and put them to work afterwards until they pay it back. You give them a chance to earn some extra if they want to stay on afterwards. If they aren''t idiots, then they won''t even be a sad-sack in their next life. They''ll start off a little special.


    "Yeah, it can get dangerous. Sure, some of us have poofed in the line of duty. But overall, it''s a moderate risk, moderate reward setup.


    "It can kind of suck on this side of things. We can''t do much more than whisper and zip around the ''no-where'' but we have a club house to hide in and all the peep show-er- live action drama we could want... I only feel sorry for the ones that choose a sad-sack who stays a sad-sack after they get a little power. That''s got to be boring as hell."


    Orison projected, "Thank Bob for Cat. I''m glad she helps me with employee spill over and you guys with power brown outs when I''m on downtime. I kind of wondered how the patron thing worked out when its a full time thing."


    The pact shadow said, "Well, she made her own little clubhouse in the astral plane and runs it god style for the most part. A little slice of personal paradise. I imagine she''ll get tired of it eventually and pass the torch in a few thousand years.


    "Don''t worry about her sniping me, though. You''re a lot more relaxed and casual. Her outfit is way too business-like for my taste."


    Some silence went by and the shadow added, "You sure about this next part?"


    The soul in the key said, "Yup. When I give you the signal, pop the pages on me and scuttle me across the reality splay line. My realm will draw me back with the help of my key and anchor with my main self.


    "I want to see what kind of setup Lily and her sister made for me. If it''s good, I might go along with it. If it isn''t, I need to wait until a good time to trigger a gray mud rebirth. Either way, I need to make sure my main self won''t accidentally suck some rando into my Tower''s realm with me.


    "Not to pat myself on the back but how smart was I to invest my earned power of existence into an ''avatar'' for my conduit? I can''t believe they let Gnarly suck me dry and break my key! I would have been completely screwed!"


    The shadow seemed confused. "Aren''t you kinda screwed anyway? You''re almost starting from scratch."


    "Not really. First of all, I have a kernel of law. Secondly, I still have you and the other two pact shadows. Most importantly, I still have my key," Orison announced.


    The shadow said, "This version of you is most likely going to be scrapped and shredded by the pages. You''re going to forget so much."


    Orison sighed. "I need a REAL fresh start anyway. The most important things I''ll still remember but I''ve done so much just to duke it out with Gnarly that I''m worn thin. Friends, family, loved ones; they''ve all moved on for the most part. It''s my turn. If I run into someone I need to remember, my key will help me."


    The shadow said, "How did you make such an awesome conduit? From what I''ve learned, you can''t make one that can do stuff you can''t."


    The key bound soul said, "I can, though? First, you start life as a flying spaghetti monster and get almost completely obliterated a few times. Later on, you have a mom who''s actually hundreds of thousands of people connected to the same soul core. You need to spend a couple of times being a hundred or so people yourself to really understand how to use it, though. It''s technical."


    The shadow had nothing else to say.


    The soul added, "I''m just trolling you, Shades McGee. I''m fairly certain I started off as one of who knows how many souls spawned from the obliteration of the flying spaghetti monster. The astral siblings just accidentally collected a seriously important soul core piece of the outsider my soul came from and grafted it into mine.


    "It was compatible because... I came from it. It''s all uphill from... Who am I kidding. The tower realm is... mixed blessings, at best."


    After a moment of speechlessness passed, the shadow asked, "So, it could have been anyone, really?"


    The soul projected, "No. In the beginning of this crazy rollercoaster, I was specifically targeted because the exact moment of my death was easy to control. Although, it''s theoretically possible that anyone could have been chosen. I''ve been thinking there were other hands manipulating things at the same time. If so, I was just the right combination to serve all levels of manipulation."


    The shadow said, "You were born special, then?"


    Orison mentally sighed again, "Maybe but not in the way you''re suggesting. I was the perfect combination of personality quirks which most probably wouldn''t find THAT flattering."


    "So, you were a sad sack like me?" the shadow said.


    Giving a mental bitter chuckle, Orison said, "Who knows? In some ways, I may have been more of a sad sack. The point is, I was what was wanted at the time. Luck, tragedy and finding the survivable spaces between powerful manipulations got me here.


    "But, I''m not the person I started out being. Not by a long shot. In fa- Holy sh*t! They found a reincarnation shadow-er- echo. I assume they helped it to form a loose core and became a splinter of me!"


    The pact shadow said, "Okay... Tell me when you''re ready to get tossed."


    Orison projected, "Let''s wait for a little while. They just shoved my soul into the splinter while he was sleeping."


    In what was only about an hour of personal time, several days went by where the main soul had been forcefully transmigrated with not a single change noticeable. The upgraded splinter carried on, completely unaware of how much they had changed internally. The young mage''s avatar chalked it up to how damaged the main soul had became. The splinter''s paltry addition barely filled the cracks but had a complete personality and life experiences.


    While the pact shadow and the avatar watched through the key''s connection, they saw the relatively mundane person interact with the people around him. His family was so dismissive, it was almost child abandonment. His one close childhood friend had cut ties years ago once the guy started shooting up and became some kind of high school sports star. There were other friends but none in the same year as Orison''s new vessel.


    The pact shadow was getting nervous about lingering around so long in a single part of the ''no-where''. Orison agreed. He limited the wait to one more hour personal time or the slightest sign of activity in the ''no-where''.


    It took less than ten before both the pact shadow and Orison became somewhat surprised. They watched what seemed to be an average day at school go horribly awry. But it wasn''t just there, the whole city was experiencing a horrifying magic circle reaping of some kind. Swaths of people were getting transported to a nightmarish and labyrinthine ''elsewhere''.


    Orison started mentally laughing. "It''s a First Family mass abduction! It looks like it includes some kind of vetting process. The survivors will be the new human inhabitants of some controlled world... What in the..."


    What awaited the Freshmen class after their abduction wasn''t some kind of game-like winnowing. It was an outright massacre. The creatures on the other side were waiting for them. Whatever Lily and her sister had envisioned for Orison''s new beginning, he hardly imagined that this was what they had intended.


    There was a strange but unsettling shifting of people and events, even as the Orison avatar watched from inside the key. "Causality! Someone or something is shaking up intended order!... Oh my gawd. The world those kids came from just ceased to exist. They''re trapped in there with no connection to anywhere else.


    "I would say they were lucky because they''re in a half ''no-when'' but its a fish barrel. The freaking extra-dimensional maze there in has properties similar to my key! It''s drawing in splinters and such from elsewhere and when the poor kids are killed, the place harvests their essence.


    "Change of plans. Remember that cave by the cultivator''s garden? Take me there. I''ve ear marked the exact moment I''m going to jump to my main body. Just slap the pages on me and toss the key out into the garden. The cave is a ''semi ''no-when'' just like that maze. I can''t do anything about what happened to the world but I can do something about the kids.


    The shadow was perplexed but followed through. Once they had arrived in the cave, Orison''s avatar shouted for the shadow to hold off a second. He had noted that Arazmus had been left sealed in some kind of formation and had been stripped bereft of his dragon bloodline.


    The only positive was that Arazmus would pass away in whatever pleasant dreamland illusion he was in, unaware of the theft that had left him unable to use magic or cultivate. The worst part was that the woman hadn''t broken her oath at all. He would likely be very safe in the cave for a hundred years and the essence trapped within the formation would leave the suspended man in perfect health until it ran out of power.


    The avatar laughed darkly. "Put him in the key. That b*tch played word games with the wrong person on the wrong point in his life... Oh, yeah. After that, nothing''s changed. Slap me with the pages and give me a toss."


    Letting out a highly put upon sigh, the shadow did as they were instructed.


    ***


    Orison''s mind was a blur. There were multiple pillars of light followed by a dragon and barrages of lightning. In the haze, someone tried to get clothes on him and kissed him on the forehead before disappearing. There was a lot of disappearing. Even he himself disappeared and wound up unconscious somewhere for awhile, his mind desperately trying to organize itself.


    Unsure of where he was or what was going on, he placidly followed a group of people who woke him up with a kick. He wasn''t even sure who he was but two names stood out in his mind and one was much more concrete. The fog he was in lingered, making him feel and seem to others as if he was simple.


    That simpleness saw him pass from person to person until he was in a room with a couple of others, linked with chains. Somewhere along the way, he had been sold into slavery. There were events that happened during those short days that he let pass through his overworked mind like a sieve, too horrid and painful to want to remember. There were some that he clung to, however.


    Among the other slaves, there was another boy but this one was different. There was a building fury in his eyes. Orison worked what little herbal lore had surfaced in his mind and a trickle of healing gift that had awakened in him on the boy. More than aware of the importance of keeping Orison''s secret, the boy showed his gratefulness by keeping him safe as he could.


    And when a charismatic mercenary leader came to buy the boy after he had killed his own slave master, the boy talked the man into buying Orison too. The boy, Grit, flourished in the trade of violence and extended some of his earnings to outfit Orison with herbal simples for the foggy headed boy to make a place for himself as well. Although, he only ever used his gift for Grit.


    In a short two years, The mercenary band grew in renown but also ran afoul of some nobles hot to see them destroyed. The leader fell afoul of a nasty plot. Grit lead the last of the loyal member from the band to save the leader but it was too late to be much good. Their leader had been tortured and mangled beyond belief.


    In desperation, Grit turned to Orison and asked him to break the secret held between them. His friend and protector over the past two years asked him with wet eyes filled with unshed tears. Knowing the dangers but not wanting to disappoint the young man, Orison did what he could.


    Little did either of them know that a demon''s temptation had taken root in their leader''s heart. That demon coaxed and seduced the broken leader into making a diabolical ritual and his loyal band was part of the offering to receive his vengeance. A young man with a spiritual gift was perfect fodder. Orison might not have fought too much for himself but Grit had been dragged into it as well.


    Drugged and in pain from a brand, Orison struggled his way to Grit even as the young man threw himself into trying to free his other friends. Powerless against the demonic forces that had them captured and was torturing them, slowly they were picked off one by one as a chalice filled with a portion of their spirit and lifeforce.


    Neither the protagonist nor the antagonist of the fiendish drama had noticed that the demonic minions that attempted to claim and slay Orison were devoured instead. In fact, at one point, the demons mistook Orison for one of them as ribbons of inky void danced across his features. He slowly closed in on his friend and their one time savior.


    The previous mercenary leader taunted and humiliated Grit as enough sacrifices had died to fill the chalice. At the moment he was ready to drink his fill from it, the hideously scarred man gave a lethal slice across Grit''s neck even as the minion demons began tearing the young man limb from limb. Seeing his one and only friend in the world dying, something finally broke free in Orison.

 270 The Magician 28

    More importantly, so did the chalice filled with spiritually enriching and potent, life renewing brew. All the demonic minions present wanted it and had secretly made ties to the chalice to siphon some of its content for themselves. It proved their undoing as a desolate gravity extended out from Orison pulling them and everything tied to the ceremony into him before he was drawn within as well.


    As dawn broke over the horizon, the young mage cleaned himself and Grit of dark gray clay before donning an over robe and a suit that slid over him like liquid storm clouds. It broke his heart to see how emotionally damaged by the experience Grit was. Kneeling down, he held the young man''s head to his chest at let Grit cry for the first time since they had met two years ago.


    Partially restored but far from completely free of the mental fog, the young mage sensed something familiar about Grit''s soul. Only more confused instead of less, he turned inward. As if they were sleeping limbs slowly restoring feeling, spirit sight and physically itchy essence channels began opening up.


    While he allowed Grit to regain emotional equilibrium, he was gathering together a set of equipment for the young man when he heard a somewhat pleasant but mechanical woman say, "World story line is broken. Branch erasure eminent. Return teleportation in one minute."


    Unsure what that meant, Orison goaded Grit into getting suited up as quickly as possible while gathering up additional equipment and goods. By the time teleportation triggered, the world around them seemed ethereal and cold. Unfortunately, that also included Grit.


    In the last two seconds before the young mage disappeared in a column of light, the usually untalkative and taciturn young man muttered out a ''thank you'' with the ghost of a smile. Distraught, Orison reached out intuitively with a power he didn''t know he possessed. A completely foreign energy seemed to mix with it. Whether imaginary or not, a feeling of warmth radiated out from his chest before he appeared in a dimly lit cavern.


    Instantly, a force descended on his consciousness. Fighting against a fuzzy mind and lethargy attempting to drag him into a deep sleep, he sat down. An internal battle began to push the overwhelming amount of complex thoughts back to where they came from and seal them in. While he tried to do so, voices filtered around him.


    "I''m not trying to sound ungrateful. He probably did help us survive when he brought that chunk of monster melting mud but we also started our first story world naked! The dragon guy probably only mistook him for somebody they knew just like the NPC Jarvis did. His only useful power seems to be getting mistaken for a friend or whatever by important people.


    "It helps HIM survive but it keeps cutting the stories short and that means OUR chance of making it to the end goes down. This isn''t just a survival game. Our very right to exist is on the line. Besides that, the one time he did start to wake up, the crazy f*cker tried to wreck the world to ''save'' that damn NPC Jarvis from disappearing with everything else in our tutorial story.


    "We don''t even know what he did but the system AND the world both didn''t like it. When he was struck down by that black lightning bolt and then forced into the nightmare mode part of the next story, I thought we''d be done with him. What a god damned cockroach!"


    The young mage felt himself being hoisted up on a narrow but strong back as a terse young woman''s voice said, "Go f*ck off somewhere to play harem king with your wh*res, Dimitri. No one''s forgotten that you and Birdy used to be childhood friends. You abandoned him as soon as you had better options then and you''ll abandon the people who follow you now if better options come along later."


    Two girls and a boy with a slightly breaking voice started shouting and raining verbal abuse on Amy. It sounded like a fight was about to break out as Orison felt himself being lowered back to the ground. A loud crashing sound broke through the shrieking din of angry voices.


    A deep, rumbling voice with a slight Russian accent said, "I''ll give you half of my rewards points to drop this. Maybe after the next story ends, you''ll be strong enough to beat me. If you are, I''ll drop this and follow you. Fair enough?"


    A round of muttering and posturing commenced but in the end, Dimitri agreed. The young man''s two female ''companions'' protested loudly. Even his boy lackey voiced a protest, wanting to milk Amy for rewards or ''favors'' as well.


    Amy muttered under her breath, "Disgusting parasite. The only way you''ll ever lay your hands on me is if I''m a corpse."


    Sensing that things were about to take a turn that wouldn''t benefit him, Dimitri said, "Transfer the points, Pete. We''ll end this for now."


    Once he''d gotten what he wanted, the young man added, "Come on Gina, Sarah. Let''s get to the next maze rest point as soon as we can. We need to make the most of our down time so our heads can be in the game when we get put in another story... Little dude, if the girls don''t mind, I''ll let you watch.


    "Stop pestering Amy. It makes us look bad. No one cares if you''re a perv but we aren''t bad guys. Say something cringe like that again and you''re off our team."


    Once the others were gone, Pyotr said, "He''s planning on cutting his little clown man to make room for me. Which one of the girls do you think he''s planning to cut for you?"


    She chuckled and said, "Are you so sure? I think that he wants me for an ''all girls are mine'' set. You''ve bumped heads with him too many times. He''ll never let you on his team when you''re a threat to his leadership. He''s just waiting til he knows he can beat you."


    The deep voice snorted. "He''ll be waiting until I am injured, old or dead. No matter how much rewards he puts into that martial style he''s learning from the system, it remains hollow. He hasn''t lived it. He''s just following the motions he was spoon fed."


    Sounding worried, Amy said, "He''s waiting until he and his two gold digging tramps pick up enough system abilities that martial arts alone wont make the difference anymore. We should feel lucky that the interface store doesn''t sell guns and Gina''s archery skill is crap under pressure.


    "Well, here goes another round of using points for food. Not that I give a damn about whatever fruit or nut trees his group will horde. Keep your remaining points, I''ve got Rip Van Winkle''s meal this time."


    Orison''s voice cut in as he opened his eyes. "Save your points for lower end restoratives or teleport refreshes. Everything from skills to healing potions are one form of slow poison or another. The only things Dimitri and his crew are earning is easier acceptance of servitude to the First Family.


    "I don''t even think this maze is under their control anymore. The prisoners have taken control, I think. That doesn''t mean that you can''t get to the end and out, though. But even if you do, people like them who load up on the benefits this place offers are going to be brainwashed and gooped up with the purple junk that binds souls to the First Family''s reincarnation cycle."


    Pyotr looked at Orison in surprise and said, "Do you know what''s going on here?"


    Orison explained what he knew of their world''s erasure and the challenges they''d faced thus far. Because they were curious about all the mysteries surrounding his appearance among them, Orison explained what little he could remember about his relationship with Arazmus, Jarvis and the reasons for his actions. It was spotty but understandable.


    Horrified, Amy said, "The story NPCs are real people reliving those awful events over and over again?"


    The young mage nodded and said, "If you die in one of those worlds, you''ll become one of them. At least for awhile, anyway."


    Pyotr asked, "You were friends of many lifetimes with Arazmus and Jarvis? How is that possible?"


    Orison shrugged. "I''ve forgotten too much. I just know it''s true."


    Amy had a sly look on her face. "Only friends? I know the look the dragon man gave you was REALLY friendly. No judgment. If you''re still Birdy under there, I know you like girls because you asked me out once. If I''d have known you were a free spirit, I might have said yes."


    The young mage shrugged. "I don''t really identify as anything. I''m wearing a guy suit in this life, so I''m going with that flow. But, feelings are all I really care about."


    Pyotr looked Orison up and down and asked, "You''ve been women before?"


    "Yup. I''ve also been plants, animals and a self aware rock too. All of that pales in comparison to the fact that I was once a huge alien thing from the outside. That was a REALLY long time ago. Parts of the me I was then are in a lot of things, including whole realities." he said with a faint smile.


    Amy laughed a little nervously and said, "You are either the craziest or most interesting person I''ve ever met."


    The young mage smiled and said, "I''d personally like to own a little of column A with all of column B, please. Honestly, you can''t survive a journey like the one we''re on if you''re not a little crazy. It makes you flexible."


    Pyotr clapped his hands once loudly. "Now, that''s something we can all believe but we have pressing matters at hand. We need to get to the waiting area before the monsters start coming. Killing more than you need seems like a waste of time since they come back very quickly."


    Orison looked through his interface while Amy and Pyotr led the way. With the mass of points he had racked up, he purchased an upgraded spark that nearly wiped them. Fully aware, he stopped the new spark from melting and merging with him like the first weak one had. For awhile, he experimented with what he could get away with before he called a halt.


    "It''s worse than I thought. But, that only matters to B team. First Family member Cantrip, requesting transport for three to hub C," the young mage said before they were whisked away in a curtain of light.


    As soon as they arrived, The bear of a young Russian man snatched Orison up into a choke hold and said, "Release us."


    The young mage ghosted through his hold and came out the other side looking fatigued. "Please stop. If I could do that, I''d have done it already. The system has me recorded as a First Family member by adoption and I''m listed as an engineer. It gives me some control over the user interface and testing subsystem but no one, not even a real First Family member could access the control room. It''s locked out.


    "Best that I can figure is that a long time ago, some threat nearly drove them to extinction. There exists a few surviving branch families that are trying to work around a rigid hierarchical order with whole levels missing to reacquire their old surviving assets. I have no desire to help them beyond what''s beneficial to me or people I care about. They''re extra-dimensional pirates and slavers by all but self admission."


    Not looking fully convinced, Pyotr said, "Anything else you''d like to tell us before any fun surprises or is this yet another thing you don''t really remember but ''just know''?"


    A spark of anger ignited in Orison''s eyes. "My soul is a five dimensional jigsaw puzzle of pieces barely fused together. Not only do I not care to explain every little action, I also could give a sh*t less if you''re okay with that. I''m helping you because you helped me. If that''s not enough for you, then tough t*tty.


    "If I recall correctly, it''s not as if you were that ''kind'' to Birdy yourself. Matter of fact, you were a bully that extorted what little allowance his parents gave him on more than one occasion. You can convince yourself that you were being a ''tough friend''.


    "Maybe you even had the intentions of teaching him some self defense once he showed some backbone and started acting like someone YOU would recognize as a real man. That doesn''t change the fact that you extorted money from and light weight tortured him. I don''t give a damn how you justify it."


    In opposite of expectation, the young man smiled widely, looking a touch unbalanced. "There he is. I would see ''this'' you in your eyes every once in awhile. That''s the person I wanted to be friends with.


    "I remember my first day of school. Papa pointed you out and said ''You be friends with that kid. You can do it your own way but you won''t be sorry if you do.''


    "I didn''t believe a little piece of marshmallow fluff like you would be anything worth knowing but every time I pushed you a little, I''d see something inside your eyes. I guess I wanted the real you to wake up so badly that I would get a little carried away sometimes. But, there''s a jar at home with every bit of money I took from you and just as much of my own. I thought we could do something fun together when we became real friends.


    Pyotr''s smile faded away. "But I don''t think we''ll ever be seeing that jar again. We won''t be seeing any of it again, will we?... Oh, Papa! Will I ever get to see you again, get to hear you tell one of your corny stories of when you were the ''Bull Man of Primorsk''?"


    Orison felt a tickle in the back of his muddled mind. "Is your father also a Pete?"


    Pyotr said, "Yes? Does that mean something to you?"


    A flash of broken memory showing a big man with bull horns begging to give everything for his son passed through the young mage''s mind.


    Orison nodded to the young man. "I don''t want to get your hopes up because I''m not really sure why I feel this way but... I think I have some kind of connection with your father that I might be able to use to get him back. Just... don''t be surprised when you see the version of him that I knew. He was a... real bull man."


    The young mage turned towards Amy as the young man processed what he heard. Surprisingly, she didn''t make any requests that would be painful for Orison to answer.


    Pyotr said, "That''s... That''s great news!" Turning to Amy, he added with a wink, "And the Pete''s of Primorsk still are bull men where it matters."


    She rolled her eyes and said, "Back to the business at hand, boys? You may have gotten us here ahead of schedule but the ''douche crew'' are going to get here in about an hour, I''d guess."


    Orison nodded. "More like half that but yeah... I''ve accessed the prompts already. The easy mode is ''Slaying Goblins'', middle road is ''Sunny D'' and the ''hard'' option, excuse me, Nightmare Mode is ''Sometimes Dead is Just Better''.


    "I see that on previous choices, Dimitri''s crew has chosen the middle road every time. Considering how he''s lost a couple along the way from when larger groups could travel together, I''m all but certain he''ll do it again. That''s fine. I have no desire to join a religious institution to find demonic heretics, especially since I know this world a little."


    With a wry face, Amy said, "What are YOUR plans?"


    He sensed a not so subtle hint that she had no intentions of following them unless she was totally in agreement.


    Giving a saintly smile, Orison said, "I''m going to easy mode first. I need to verify something important. Afterwards, I''m going to this Nightmare Mode''s area ten years ahead of when it opens to ''players''. I want to log some serious spiritual healing time and pick up a nice hidden bonus. And so it''s clear, it has jack all to do with system rewards but I''m sure those will be good too."


    Pyotr said, "So, we''re going to the easy mode?"


    The young mage shook his head. "The easy story line here is a trap. It''s another Nightmare Mode whereas ''Sometimes Dead is Just Better'' is actually an easy points earning spree under the right conditions. It''s not going to matter because there will be little to earn but the hardest of the hard if anything at all. Of course, that''s not set in stone. There''s too many variables."


    Frowning, Amy said, "You''re saying, it doesn''t matter what we chose?"


    Orison said, "Oh, it matters. If you chose ''Slaying Goblins'' you''re in for a hell of a fight for survival. Chance of death is high and, Amy, chances of a whole lot worse before death for you and those two girls following Demitri around.


    He could see that Amy wasn''t happy to hear his words.


    Before she could protest, he added, "Please don''t, okay. I know you''re a tough cookie but we''re talking about ridiculous numerical advantage and traps. The goblins of this world are cruel and ruthless. They''re far from the cannon fodder of video games except for maybe the really grotesque ''erotic'' ones. And believe me, I use the term ''erotic'' loosely. Unhinged would be more accurate in this case."

 271 The Magician 29

    An extra layer of fuzzy, memory distorting haze drifted over his consciousness. He had expected it. The world would reject him as soon as it felt his presence. The trio of linked planes had marked his soul''s signature for immediate expulsion upon sensing it and this plane of the the three was the most wary of him.


    To allow him entry, the system had to link him to his world-side host as more of an avatar than a vessel but that meant the hollow soul shell had more influence on his consciousness while he was in it than it otherwise would. It was just as well.


    Due to the ridiculous ''Eternal Burden of Heroes'' title he had earned for clearing the tutorial world completely unconscious, he had to take the vessel most closely linked to immediate need of an NPC protagonist''s help. To top it off, for whatever happened during his run in Jarvis'' world, the young mage earned another ''bad'' title that evolved to ''Sacrifice'' in conjunction to the first one.


    Because of that, Orison was always linked to the most tragic of NPC heroes available for any given story. In conjunction with ''Marked for Death'', even an easy scenario that wasn''t a trap became Nightmare Mode for whatever vessel he had. It would be the most vulnerable, least powerful one among valid options, typically. That usually meant...


    The young mage took a moment to look over the vessel. "I should feel fortunate that there weren''t girl options available in the last story that matched my title restrictions. I would have been screwed in more ways than one. Looks like that wasn''t the case this time.


    "What am I working with? A cleric acolyte, huh? Enough prepackaged grace to cast two sh*tty heals and a ''Field of Sanctuary'' and that''s it."


    As Orison was doing his examination within, the soul shelled vessel was on auto pilot in the ''story line''. The girl was reeling in horror at the fate of her first adventuring party. While the surviving mage was doing her best to keep them alive with an arrow in her stomach, casting an unfocused ''ice shards'', the traumatized vessel was trying to heal her.


    The young mage within was well aware that with the state of the vessel''s weakened and hollow soul, any divine patron would be stingy with its bestowal of grace to such a being. Mentally smiling grimly, he reached out and, almost completely by instinct, offered to become her patron. In the girl''s desperation and directly under Orison''s influence, she accepted without a second thought.


    As the remaining goblins closed in on the ''cleric acolyte'' vessel, the girl that was still in autopilot story mode, screamed in terror and lost control of her faculties for a moment. The smell of fear and urine seemed to whip the goblins into a frenzy as they closed in on her. The young mage worked frantically to inhabit her more fully without getting rejected by the world but realized that he would probably not be able to cut through the girl''s emotional distress fast enough to save her.


    While the first two goblins started ripping the girl''s clerical robes to shreds in preparation of administering a grim fate, the young mage prepared to ''disconnect'' before he was dragged into experiencing it with her. It was at that moment that a rock slammed into one goblin''s face with what seemed just shy of a mortar shell explosion. The fragments of dirt and stone chips pelted the girl but also distracted the second goblin.


    Reaching through her, Orison prompted her to reflexively reach for the dead mage girl''s belt dagger and bury it into the other goblin''s eye. It stood up and screeched in agony before the knee guard of a greave entered side view, driving the hilt clear into the goblin''s head. Having delved in far enough, the young mage kept her from collapsing in relief at the sight of a ''savior''.


    Having her follow closely behind the rapidly moving armored figure, he managed to prompt her into two more assists, earning the vessel a touch of grace for killing world marked monsters. It was tough working through her near hysteria but with every goblin death, he could feel her emotional equilibrium evening out into a functional state.


    As soon as the area was clear of threats, the armored figure tossed the cleric girl a canteen of water. "Take a few drinks and clean yourself. Your scent is too easy to follow."


    The girl''s immediate sense of shame nearly derailed the process. The armored man was a rough, no frills kind of person. He wouldn''t hesitate to abandon her if she became too much of a burden or threat to the man''s own safety. However, if she listened to his words, he would help as much as he could.


    Using her own panic as leverage, Orison got her to strip and comply with as much speed and efficiency as possible. With an end flourish, he pushed enough ''gift'' through to wick away the water and repair her outer clothing to a state of something wearable as she redressed with a spare ''scentless'' undergarment.


    Returning from his swift scouting of the vicinity, the man said in a deep voice, raspy from disuse, "What miracles and orisons do you have left?"


    The young mage within was startled by the question as the girl said, once again in autopilot, "I have enough grace for a heal and two orisons within the creation domain. I can also lay a ''Field of Sanctuary''."


    Inwardly relieved that the man was referring to whatever magic labeling the current world used, he exerted semi-passive control while providing patron options. "I have enough reserves for two minor mends or exercise any basic casting from the conjuration school, stronger if it overlaps with healing lore," she blurted while slightly confused why she''d say that.


    The armored figure nodded in approval. "Useful variety but within a tight grouping of abilities. You have a good beginner''s mentor. Don''t make the mistake of continuing to multi-class magics. It will cripple your upper potential."


    Under the sting of an implied possible error in judgment that was completely off base, no matter how well intended, she was about to run her mouth in an unhelpful way.


    Orison directed her ire into a much more beneficial direction. "Help me get some more grace from monster kill assists and I''ll show you ''useful''."


    The man paused his purposeful gait the young cleric was forced to keep pace with. He eyed her critically as she blushed under the scrutiny and her uncharacteristic assertiveness. Assessing her performance when he appeared, the man gave a slow grudging nod and a grunt. The young mage assumed that meant he''d try to give the cleric some chance openings when he could.


    As they proceeded, the young mage was utterly shocked by the resourcefulness and frugality of the man. The armored man wore second-hand armor and was equipped with a worn but serviceable blade he never drew. Instead, the man would, more often than not, use and discard the weapons left by killed goblins whenever possible.


    From time to time, they''d catch a patrol of one or two of the creatures and his measured movements would slow for a half-second. Neither Orison or his host recognized what the pause meant the first couple of times. The young mage caught on and galvanized the cleric into action after the first set of wasted opportunities the armored man tried to provide.


    Broken spears, arrow heads and even a sewing needle from the girl''s pack; the young mage would whip her into action to inflict every small kind of aggravation and harassment possible. It was meager but the constant effort finally afforded enough of a grace reward to provide some additional future magical assistance if needed. The girl even managed to accidentally kill one completely on her own, drawing a sob from her.


    Her original divine patron abhorred violence and killing of any kind. The moment she had taken a life, her fate was sealed. She would have to petition to leave the Earth Mother Church for the Sun Lord''s as soon as she returned. There were other options but it was the only one that would leave her carefully trained skills and knowledge still relevant.


    The armored man noted the incident but didn''t comment. Even though he didn''t say or do anything overt, the young mage could tell that the man was coolly assessing options. He would probably have a terse but helpful word of advice to share once their current incident was over.


    Over their journey deep into the cave system, the armored man abused unused vocal cords to provide little helpful tidbits whenever he could. The most difficult ones to hear were the few shared when they encountered the dead leader of the party she came with. The young man''s longsword was hindered by the cramped surroundings and a little too heavy for his stamina to endure for long.


    More painful for the cleric, however, was the nearby grotto where they found the leader''s pugilist girlfriend. Once it was cleared of the two whelping ''matrons'' and a small collection of breeder ''guards'', the armored man kept the cleric from rushing over. The young woman was kept barely clinging to life but her eyes were dead as she looked towards where the guards had been playing with her boyfriend''s corpse.


    Once the woman had been assessed of her situation by the armored man, she chose a merciful ending over being healed. Without hesitation, the armored man provided it with a swift dagger strike to the point where the neck met the back of the skull. She left the world instantly and painlessly as she smiled sadly, imagining whatever dreams her and her boyfriend had shared together.


    With even Orison slightly stunned, he couldn''t stop the cleric girl from saying, "She could have been saved!"


    The armored man faced her and said, "Saved for what?"


    The world they were in wasn''t a forgiving or particularly charitable place. With the woman''s spirit broken, her days as an adventurer were over. Ending the lives of the goblin whelps almost assured to be inside her safely was the only way to life moving forward and that would take money.


    Even if that help was provided, there was little refuge for the help she would need to overcome a slew of personal and societal stigma problems that would follow. Caring for her would be a full time job for quite some time. Assuming her family was willing and able to take up that burden, which they very well might not be, it was all too likely that she wouldn''t be able to endure and end up taking her own life anyway.


    Orison quickly fed that understanding to her to keep her from speaking words that couldn''t be taken back to the primary means of their continued survival. As he did so, he leveraged against her own numb shock to keep her moving and following the armored man. Inwardly, he tried to convince himself of the ''truth'' he was selling as well. That understanding was the only thing that kept the outpouring of painful empathy to a bearable degree.


    The sense of numbness reached dangerous levels of detachment as the cleric watched the armored man dispatch a hidden nest of goblin children and whelps. The man displayed the same cool level of professional expediency he had exercised for the young pugilist woman. There was no sense of enjoyment or satisfaction to any of it. That didn''t help the girl at all but it did illicit some appreciation from the young mage viewing the world from within her.


    As lost in their own thoughts as both the cleric and Orison were, it almost proved a fatal mistake. With vigilance dropped, the young mage barely responded through his vessel in time when the armored man suddenly dodged behind the cleric and barked ''Field!''. Sparking the withered magical ''package'' with the ''Field of Sanctuary'' model marked on it from the earned grace pool, an ethereal set of drooping weeping willow branches sprung into existence around the girl.


    With widening eyes, the cleric saw a club nearly as big as she was come to a stop mere inches from her head along with two arrows dripping of foul substances. A screeching sound of ripping metal issued out as physics battled with faith based magic for a moment before the magical dome around her started buckling.


    With that bought moment of respite, the armored man picked up a discarded bow and fired off two collected arrows with deadly precision at their ranged attackers. As for the hobgoblin in front, the young mage went with the flow of her horrified recoil to jump back. He spurned her to snort and spit a glob of runny mucus in its face at the same time.


    Distracted by the surprise assault from the dainty and fearful target in front of its eyes, it didn''t adjust its blow to still hit her when the dome of magical force broke. The creature tried to correct its stagger to block the side thrust of the armored man''s shortsword to its exposed neck but failed to do that as well. The grunt of approval from the armored man caused the girl to flush a shade of tomato in equal parts embarrassment and pride over the ''unladylike'' action as the hobgoblin slumped to the ground.


    A third and final hidden archer managed to get a lucky shot out before being dispatched by a speedy return fire. It was only a graze due to the man''s vigilance but there was a disturbing smear of filth along the cut on the armored man''s flank. He quickly parted the torn portion of the banded mail''s leather under layer to clean it with distilled grain alcohol. Swiftly moving on her own with little prompting from Orison, the cleric hit the wound with a purifying ''orison'', a heal and a shaky use of patron supplied mending on the armor.


    When the armored man looked somewhat questioningly at her for the ''extravagant'' use of magic, she responded in a ''no-nonsense'' tone, "Take no chances if the means are available. A silver of prevention is worth more than a gold of cure."


    The young mage could feel just how self satisfying spouting those little nuggets had been for the girl and the armored man saw no need to corrode the small amount of emotional bolstering it gave her. Neither did Orison, since it was quite possibly the last fully autonomous act of this soul shell''s life in this world''s branched version of events.


    While the girl had inspected the wound, the young mage had confirmed a few things. And while she was still in contact with the man, Orison pushed as much of his personal existence into her as he could without being rejected by the world. With a straining exercise of his innate abilities through her passively resistant body, he forcefully relaxed the pattern of her existence.


    The slight tweaks caused to her form weren''t that exaggerated. In the dim lighting of the cave, provided by glowing fungus, the armored man didn''t know what the girl really looked like anyway. The enchantment on the man''s helmet that allowed him to see so well in the dark place was related to heat.


    Despite that, the man had keenly honed senses and even a normal person would have noticed the light that the cleric let off in the moment of transition. "What was that?"


    Orison could sense the tension and wariness in his voice as he replied through her, "An innate ability to adjust and restore myself. It will be some time before I can use it again but it has a lot of minor beneficial effects in it. I''m no longer fatigued, for one."


    Although a hint of suspicion remained in the armored man''s voice, he said, "You should have waited until we left the cave or it was absolutely necessary. There''s little left to explore."


    "Sorry. I-I didn''t mean to startle you but I really was nearing the end of what I could endure," the cleric said, feeling the bite of disapproval in the armored man''s tone.


    The tweak that was externally fairly superficial was a great deal more profound internally. At that point, she was as much the young mage as she was herself. It was a heavy investment with some risk for Orison but nearly everything he needed to do relied on it. That included keeping his vessel alive and capable of being a better channel for his personal essence reserves and abilities.


    Although still fuzzy, the young mage''s consciousness was also noticeably more coherent and not as affected by the girl''s emotional states. It was a trade of problems on that front, however. Taking on the shape of someone else''s longing was always problematic but that particular issue wasn''t as big of a deal to Orison as it was for the vessel.


    While the young mage was determined to see and treat the people within the ''story lines'' as real, there were important things at stake. As the cleric meekly followed the armored man around on his inspections and bounty trophy collecting, Orison quelled a twang of guilt by adding the girl to his list of ''people to save when and if possible''. There was little else he could do on that front but a whole lot more options were available once he had acquired a vessel capable of channeling his power without a competing will.

 272 The Magician 30

    Considering the backstory of this particular ''tragic hero'', he very well could be from his perspective. The sharp and almost noble features of the girl had subtly shifted to softer edges. Light skin had taken on a golden hue while blond hair had darkened to slightly wavy auburn. A small beauty mark had appeared near the corner of her left eye as if she had a single dark tear she could never finish shedding.


    Through the slit in his helmet, dark brown eyes locked with ocean blue ones as he said, "They''re not hazel."


    In confusion, the cleric looked around and said, "I don''t know much about trees and shrubs. Was there more than one cave entrance?"


    With the visuals exposed, the armored man seemed more aware of how similar her voice was to someone else, "You, what''s your name?"


    Taking the perfect lead in, Orison fed a portion of prepared script through the cleric. "I was meaning to bring this up. Would you mind taking my original adventurer''s plate back with you. After everything that''s happened, I was thinking about a fresh start."


    Suspicious again, the man said, "You want to be reported as dead or are you giving up adventuring?"


    With a solemn face the girl said, "In more ways than one, the person I was did die down there. I was changed in ways that I can''t easily begin to explain. Some you know, though. I took a life.


    "No matter the reason, I can no longer pray to the Earth Mother for grace but I don''t want to be a follower of the Sun Lord. Those priests are just shy of insane and their suppression, sometimes exploitation, of women is an open secret. I have a way to still use healing but I''ll have to earn grace through the elimination of monsters.


    "It''s a harder road but generic, er, secular clerics aren''t publicly suppressed or persecuted by any orthodox church. I''d have to find a capable adventurer above my grade to help me collect grace until I grew in power enough to learn my own combat methods. But if you''d help with that, I''d use my skills to help you every way I could in return."


    The internal battle of the armored man only lasted a moment. Were it not for his own shock, the refusal would have been instantaneous.


    And as much as he doubted that she was a creature in disguise, he wasn''t able to completely shake the doubt that she might be demon or devil blooded once she brought the point up. It was a simple thing for him to request that she be tested for such a heritage during her examination. Considering how much her appearance had spooked him, he wanted to do that, at least.


    With a dark look through his helmet slit, he pointed ahead of him and said, "Walk."


    Not allowing his moody turn to affect her sudden feeling of unburdened existence, she skipped ahead.


    With a few hops forward, she turned with an airy smile and said, "Call me Wren."


    She was answered by a sullen grunt. With a reply like that, she knew she was in for a silent walk to the local village before another long and silent walk back to the nearest town. To keep herself occupied, she kept her eyes peeled for medicinal herbs and wasn''t at all surprised to see many. Local herbalists and even a few savvy woodsman would go out of their way to spread a few seeds further afield when they encountered or harvested a mature, useful herb they had no intentions of cultivating themselves.


    By the time they reached the village, it was starting to get late. The small, four room inn they would be spending the night wasn''t unknown to the cleric. She had stayed there only the night before with the party that was now deceased. It was a sad and painful thought as the armored man lead her in that direction once he''d collected his task completion fee and request form stamp from the village elder.


    The homely but pleasant woman who managed it was all smiles at their approach. Wren was surprised when the woman told the armored man that he could stay free of charge but took the cleric''s two silver without a moment''s hesitation. It was the woman''s turn to be surprised by the cleric''s hesitation to follow her to the room she was leading the girl.


    "What''s the matter, hon?" she said kindly.


    Unsure how to breach the subject, Wren replied, "Is-is there another room available. Any will do and I hate to be a bother but..."


    The look on the innkeeper''s face wasn''t encouraging but she was saved from having to respond when the armored man said, "Bring a spare cot to my room. She can sleep there. Keep her room fee."


    Both the woman and the cleric were scandalized but seeing that the red faced girl didn''t object, the innkeeper called for her daughter to help with the arrangement.


    Once they were settled in, the armored man sent Wren to fetch their dinner when some hot water was brought up to their room. Catching the hint, she complied. In similar vein, he had a sudden thirst he went to the common area to take care of while she cleaned up.


    With no business left to attend to but not yet quite time for sleep, Wren sat at the small room''s table and worked the herbs into something usable while the man performed upkeep on his equipment. She noticed that he didn''t take off the helmet or the padded jacket as he cleaned and polished the mail and shortsword. She was tempted to ask why. But since he''d not said anything about her strange reticence to stay in the room she''d been given, it didn''t really give her any leeway to ask questions of her own.


    As she ran out of busywork to perform with the herbs she collected, the silence began to get too loud to bear. "That room, I stayed there yesterday with the mage girl you saw... when we first met. I-I don''t think I would have been able to sleep if I''d have stayed there."


    With a forced smile, she added, "I''m surprised the innkeeper let me stay in here with you. The other girl had to sneak into her boyfriend''s room after nightfall."


    For a moment, she wondered why everything had gotten so blurry but suddenly realized that she was crying. The man froze up for a few seconds as if trying to figure out what he should do. He decided to put an extra, unneeded layer of waterproofing polish on his boots as if he didn''t notice.


    She curled up into a ball of misery. And despite feeling like she would never sleep again, the trials of the day had worn on her more greatly than she realized. Later, when she awoke with a gasp in the dark hours of predawn, she absently noted that she''d been covered up at some point. As she took a few deep breaths to push irrational terror back down, she noticed the faint red glow of the man''s enchanted helmet with a special kind of sight she hadn''t possessed before.


    It took a few more slightly ragged deep breaths to keep from screaming anyway. Nerves singing, she couldn''t lay back down. It didn''t seem possible to pretend that she hadn''t just woken up from a nightmare and likely woke him up too. It seemed like a generous assumption that he had done much sleeping himself, sitting in bed like he was, staring back at her.


    Attempting to downplay the moment, she said, "Hard time sleeping too?"


    The man just grunted.


    With fake cheerfulness, she added, "It might be easier to rest your head without that helmet on. Or am I wrong and it''s like a fluffy pillow inside of there?"


    Little above a whisper, his said, "Habit. Sometimes I forget it''s on."


    Unable to help herself, she asked when he cleaned and did upkeep on it. Apparently, the man cleaned it when he cleaned himself and the enchantment that was placed on it somehow kept it from rusting as well. When asked if he took it off to eat or drink, he reached underneath the bottom of the face guard and pressed outward. A section fell down to swivel on a lower hinge.


    When she got up to get a closer look in the dim light, he tensed but didn''t stop her. Reaching out an index finger, she poked the piece so it would swing a little. She giggled and stopped, surprised by the sound of it.


    "Sorry. It''s just that it kind of looks funny like that. I couldn''t exactly tell you why. Maybe it''s just my nerves," she said, feeling foolish.


    Displaying a little curiosity of his own, he took off his helmet to look at it himself. Experimentally, he tapped the dangling section of face guard. With an intensity of focus that was likely another ''habit'', he examined the helmet for what might be ''funny'' about it.


    Seeing the man scrutinize his headgear with a wooden face while performing almost child-like actions caused her to giggle again. When he looked at her in confusion, a couple more giggles burst out. Coming to the conclusion that his face must be funny too, he quickly put the helmet back on to hide his burning ears.


    Realizing that she might have hurt his feelings, she said, "My mind is all over the place right now. Everything is so raw and open like someone ripped away the world I knew to expose an entirely different one underneath. I think-I think this is just how I''m healing, adapting to it... Y-you have a perfectly handsome face."


    She ducked down a little and landed a quick peck on the side of his helmet. Seeing him flinch and have to physically restrain himself to endure her ''attack'', her courage and temporarily elevated spirits evaporated. To keep from showing too much of her own hurt feelings, she busied herself tidying up her herbal preparations from the night before.


    She wouldn''t have noticed but Orison''s much broader spirit sight picked up the image of the man slowly reaching up to touch the side of his helmet where she had kissed it. The image translated to her as something she had noticed out of the corner of her eye. A faint smile brought by relief and hazy understanding ghosted over her expression before she quickly hid it.


    The subtle and insidious effects of pattern adaptation aside, her compliment hadn''t been much of an exaggeration from her point of view. What admirable qualities he did have were marred by a chilly expression and dull eyes, however. A pale complexion from constantly wearing his armor even lent a slightly ghoulish aspect to his otherwise dark features.


    Deep within the core area of the hollow soul of the girl, in a place that he could wholly be and think for himself only, Orison said to himself, "This is going to end up being more painful than I thought. Should I just pack it up or pretend I''m a cartoon crab and start singing a crappy love song... Who am I kidding? I''d walk through hell itself to get what I came for. I just didn''t expect that a 100% genuine girl''s heart WAS hell.


    "I mean, for f*ck sake! She doesn''t even know if she likes him, much less love, but a perceived snub made her feel like she''d been stabbed in the chest with an icy dagger. A feeling that intense would have haunted the old me for days but seconds later, she 180ed and felt pleased with herself like she hadn''t felt completely ugly and worthless mere moments before.


    "I feel like I''d understand if Reese was still a part of me. If I ever meet her in the future, I might ask her right after I get answers to the hows and whys of hiding a piece of herself in the cabin''s greenhouse supply tray. She might not even remember but I''d desperately love to know how she grafted herself to me. Whatever method she used was a serious weakness in my soul''s insane self defense capabilities!"


    To the young mage''s surprise, he was interrupted from his long bout of memory sorting by a steadily sharp increase of agitation and resentment. Focusing back outward, Orison saw that the man had set her to do early morning exercises and light combat training with him. He wasn''t going easy on her either. Covered in sweat, dirt and enough bruising to justify healing, even the Orison half of the girl was ready to choke the guy out.


    Picking herself up from the ground, desperately hold back another round of tears that had zero affect on the man when he was in serious mode, she snapped, "I need to heal and breakfast is ready. I don''t know about you but all those goblin parts are going to start rotting soon and we''d both rather not have that, right?"


    "Three more rounds," he said.


    "Enough!" Wren shouted.


    The innkeeper came out to see what the fuss was about. After looking at Wren, she laid into the armored man about how a man should treat a young lady but the girl stopped her before it went too far.


    She said, "I appreciate the concern, mam. But this isn''t about being a girl who wants to be protected, this is about a healer who knows the limitations of their own body and the skills they possess. Magical healing still requires resources from the body. Any more ''training'' and I''m going to be laid up trying to replace what my body''s lost even after healing. Unless you want to see me get sick from who knows what after you''ve worn me down too much, that is."


    He didn''t say anything else to her.


    Turning to the innkeeper, he said frostily, "We need water for cleaning up."


    After breakfast, they were back on the road and the mood between them was almost hostile. By midday, Wren was too tired to continue herb hunting. When she called out to ask for a rest, it almost looked like he was going to continue walking without her but he relented with a sullen air.


    Fed up with the silent treatment, Orison allowed some of her rage to slip the leash as he channeled it through as constructive an argument as possible. "I may be a defrocked cleric but I''m still a healer. I took an oath with the knowledge. Neither I nor any healer worth being called one would NEVER use the title of that sacred profession for something as pitiful as a way to get out of some harsh training.


    "You want to toughen me up? Fine. I even get that you can''t afford to see me as a girl while you''re training me. I really do. But when I put on the healer''s hat, I''m being all business with you.


    "When you look at me, you see my softness, my age and lack of practical experience with the real world, right?... You stubborn *ss! Say something!... I understand that you have a leg up on practically everything else. But when it comes to healing, all I ask is that you give me the benefit of doubt until I screw up or you actually catch me in a lie! Is that so hard to do?"


    The armored man looked at her and then looked away. Standing up, he started walking to town again. It was apparent that he had decided to wash his hands of her and even Orison wasn''t completely sure why. While the young mage wracked his mind and combed through the girl''s memories for a solution to the dilemma, Wren paced alongside the man in teary eyed silence.


    It wasn''t as if the young mage could get her to explain that if she strayed from his side for too long, she''d meet a bad end for a lot of different reasons. The last thing the man seemed to want was a responsibility. Making herself more of one wasn''t the answer.


    Less than an hour from town and already showing signs of him parting ways by any means necessary, Orison thought he''d found the answer. It was another burden of a reason but it did come with a benefit that was hard to ignore. He had to dig deep for it because she''d pushed it so far to the back of her mind, she''d almost managed to seal it away behind the fear and pain it caused her.


    Wren said, "Give me two minutes to tell you something and if you still want to be done with me, then I''ll give up and stop following you."


    An internal war broke out within the armored man but he relented, more as an attempt to find a peaceful solution to his ''stalker'' problem than anything else.

 273 The Magician 31

    The man immediately turned to walk away, run if he had to.


    "It''s not for consorting with unclean spirits. It''s not even something particularly hated for the reasons that most are. It was the Earth Mother church that added it to the list, not the Sun Lord church. I only asked for two minutes," she cried out.


    From a little over twenty feet away, he turned back towards her and said, "Come no closer."


    Held together by Orison''s influence alone, as tears made fresh tracks down her face, she said, "I woke up from my first moon blood and it hurt so bad that I went for help. The nun who answered my call convinced me that something was wrong with me and that my life was in danger. She said she had a way to save my life but I''d have to give up my ability to have children. She needed me to be willing and just informed enough to complete the ritual while she lied about everything else.


    "It was an old ''Barren Mother'' ritual from the early shamanistic days of the church. It''s true that I''ll never bleed again and I''ll never be able to have children. That''s because my nature given powers of procreation are tied up into a sigil buried within me.


    She took another shaky breath and held back her humiliation long enough to say, "As long a-as my v-virtue stays intact, I can spend that power to raise someone from the dead. F-for as long as my fertile years last, the person who was raised that way can keep.. can keep v-visiting..."


    She sat on the ground and pulled her knees up to her face, feeling just about as miserable as a person can. The two minutes elapsed and he still stood there like a frozen statue.


    Eventually, he said, "Why?"


    Not sure which ''why'' he was referring to, she marshaled her courage to cover the big ones. "Why wasn''t I sold? The original buyer died before he could complete the transaction. The Nun was caught trying to find another. The mother superior who discovered it, hid the truth out of kindness and let me choose what I wanted to do.


    "Why did I decide to keep on holding it? It can save someone''s life. It''s a gamble but I''ve already paid the price. I don''t want to throw away the only good thing that can come from it.


    "Why did I tell you? I don''t have any real logical reason. I guess I feel like you might be the one I was meant to save? It''s going to sound crazy but I feel like something bad is going to happen if I leave your side. Whether it''s real intuition or something my mind cooked up because I was scared to death and you saved me, I''ll leave that up to you.


    "Either way, you did save me. Even though you''re harsh and have the emotional intelligence of a child, I think you''re a good person. You have the skill and ability to do much better than some village request. Whatever the motivation is, I admire the action.


    After some more silence passed by, he said, "You could be lying."


    Too wrung out to get angry again, she replied, "If you know someone you can trust to verify it, then I''ll agree. Like I said, if it turns out to be a mistake, I''ll be able to move forward. Living with some regrets is almost inevitable, isn''t it?"


    He faced the town ahead but didn''t start walking. After a moment, she stood up and hesitantly moved a little his way. His sudden sharp head turn made her suck her breath in but he only nodded at her. Once she caught up with him, they started walking to town again.


    "Forget children cartoons with overly serious love story plots, this is more like a Lifetimes cautionary movie if they did grimdark fantasy..." Orison muttered from within Wren.


    The rest of the day was spent in a fairly busy stream of activity. Defrocked, Wren had to report to the church and turn her articles of office in. Before she could take a new name, the church made her report what taboo was broken under magic oath.


    Luckily, she was from a fairly distant city and had came here less than a week ago. No one really didn''t notice or possibly care why she looked different. Her spiritual signature was all that they cared about and that was within an acceptable range of difference, if barely.


    After that, it was necessary to re-outfit, re-register under her new alias and re-meet up with her new party leader. There was almost a shy and nervous quality to the way he treated the whole affair of filling out the party form. To the untrained eye, or a very astute one, it looked more like a man filling out a marriage license at the court house.


    When she filled in her portion, he kept his hand over the signature part of the form. "You don''t want me to see your name?"


    He nodded.


    Giving him a ghost of a smile, she said, "Looks like we have something in common after all... What should I call you? I need some way to get your attention in a crowd."


    He stood there, silently contemplating when the lady behind the counter said, "He''s got a lot of nicknames. I''ll stick with the decent ones. There''s Janitor and Mob Hunter. The nicer of us call him Mob Hunter. He has others but they aren''t that nice."


    The armored man looked at Wren and shrugged.


    Drawing to the end of another nerve wracking day, the cleric chuckled wearily. "How about Steel? Raking it over coals and beating it only makes it stronger. It''s hard and cold but dependable."


    He nodded. It was hard to tell but she sensed a subtle difference about the way he held himself when she said it. Wren was pretty sure that she''d accidentally managed to make him happy for a second. The moment was ruined by a bit of heckling around them.


    The guild registrar behind the counter shook her head as she said, "I thought your springtime had finally come, Mob Hunter. That''s not a pet name a girl gives to the man she likes."


    Being a great deal thinner skinned and looking to get a little good natured revenge for the hell he''d put her through earlier in the day, Wren said, "And yet, we''ll probably be sharing a room tonight. At least, I hope we will... Is that alright, Steel? Re-outfitting today took the last of my savings."


    Turning to the registrar, she said, "Something cold can be warmed up but it''s not so easy to turn something soft and unreliable into hard and dependable."


    It wasn''t so much that Orison wanted Wren to be seen as an easy girl but there were many logical reasons for wanting to cement the impression that they were together. On the surface, adventurers seemed fairly upstanding but there was a lot of dark and shady people within their ranks. The people may not have had much respect for the armored man but they did have respect enough for his skill to keep their harassment to words only.


    Oblivious to finer points of the situation, Steel said, "I already paid for two rooms."


    Everyone in the place looked at him like he''d lost his mind as Wren flushed red in humiliation. She went to stomp upstairs when the armored man added, "I''ll be to your room after dinner."


    Immediately after hearing that, a man asked how much an after dinner visit would cost. She was willing to be mistaken as intimate but she was far from willing to be seen a stress relief toy. Orison wasn''t willing to let such a misconception stand either. It was too dangerous.


    Angry, not so much at the clueless Steel as the nature of people, she said, "I''ll come to YOUR room after dinner to discuss tomorrow''s business. Make sure to ask around and figure out what you just said sounded like. It''s the kind of thoughtlessness that will give me needless problems... As for the rest of you, the only way I''ll be opening my door tonight is if the building''s on fire. If you can''t take no for an answer, there are ways to hurt a person THROUGH a door."


    The registrar sympathetically added, "You''ll be responsible for property damages but a filed complaint will be taken seriously."


    An hour later in his room, the man gave a terse apology and voiced a single ''annoying'' before moving on with showing her the request he picked up. It was for Kobalds and he strained his underused voice to the point of nearly losing it trying to prepare her as best he could for what they''d encounter. Because of that, Orison had no trouble devising a way to make their two party adventure run through the challenge like the easy mode it should have been. Sadly, it was just the beginning.


    As spring slid into summer, local requests became far more frequent. Newer members were dying or disappearing left and right but the rewards for going after things like goblins and kobalds were simply too little to attract more seasoned adventurers. That really only left the poor two person team of Ice and Steel to make up the difference.


    Between Steel''s dedication to keeping the local villages safe from the monsters and his growing affections for Wren threatening to cause him to bench her and run off to death on his own, the nature of the secret nightmare mode revealed itself. Juggling survival from both bad ends was a constant struggle that was only getting worse for Orison.


    Wren slammed her hand down on the counter and barely kept herself from screaming at the registrar. "What is the guild master thinking!? A silver sign up bonus for orphans fifteen to seventeen is a death march! Are we trying to kill local threats or give them a steady supply of fresh food, weapons and breeders!?"


    In as understanding a voice as she could, the registrar said, "I realize that the situation is abnormal but this is an order from the king not the guild master. It''s ugly and cruel but it''s a tactic to buy time until the summer campaigns are over. After that, the most in danger areas will have kingdom soldiers to pick up the slack."


    Nearly in tears, the cleric said, "So, you know, the guild master knows. At least give them a fighting chance. Lure some retired adventurers to offer some training and organization resources to these... children!"


    After trying to explain calmly only to be rebutted with harder to counter arguments that she was unable to do anything about, the registrar finally snapped. "You''ve been with Mo-Steel too long. You''re trapped in the same small bubble he''s put himself in. There is a bigger world around us with bigger problems. You have the skills and abilities to help solve those but you''re still HERE!


    "He might be dense but even he''s starting to catch on to your little hot and cold routine to keep him from doing what''s best for you and not drag you to your death with him. You can''t save him from himself! Take one of the offers you''ve been hiding from him and let the man kill himself as he pleases."


    Whether it was the girl''s heart sick feelings or the young mage''s frustrated ones, they could agree on one point.


    Choking back a sob, the cleric said, "I can''t! I can''t leave him."


    The woman would have said more but she noticed that Steel was behind Wren. Orison had been too focused on keeping emotions in check and there had been enough randoms to provide life signature cover. The young mage was resigned. In truth, he wasn''t surprised such a situation hadn''t happened sooner, considering the strain they were under.


    What he didn''t expect was that Steel was still carrying a rag soaked in the inhalant sedative they used to safely and silently transport survivors while they were on mission. Nor would he have anticipated that Steel would use it on Wren without hesitation. The cleric''s last conscious thought for some time was disbelief as echoes of Steel asking for understanding while dissolving their party played in the background.


    The young mage within cursed up a storm. "What a sh*t show! F*ck your ''I''d never party with someone I care about''. What a noble f*cking gesture! What''s your next move, jack*ss?


    "Let me guess. You''re going to pick the hardest request available in your obsessive wheelhouse. There''s probably a stupid thought running in that pea brain of yours that if you manage to somehow survive, you can finally let go of the past, be the hero she deserves or some other tripe. For all I know, you probably realize what a basket case you are and you''re heading out to commit suicide in the only way you can justify to set her free.


    "...God, I''m such a hypocrite. How many times have I pushed people away or ''hooked them up'' with someone else so they wouldn''t get dragged into my bullsh*t? A great deal more than I can remember, I can guarantee that. But damn it, I could save both of you and more besides if you''d just..."


    Orison mentally sighed. What was really eating at him was the realization that he was trying unsuccessfully to herd two hyper expressions of his own personality. His anger and chastisements were aimed at himself more than it was at them.


    Instead of wasting more time on venting, he busied himself trying to find a way to turn the disastrously close to ''game over'' scenario into something manageable. By the time Wren started coming to, he felt like there was a decent chance of turning it into a positive thing if they could reach Steel fast enough. He didn''t like games of chance but there wasn''t much option.


    As soon as Wren''s eyes opened, she cast a healing to remove the worst of the after effects of being knocked out with nearly toxic vapors. After that, she flew downstairs. Luckily, the registrar was still at her window. As low as the sun was sitting in the afternoon sky, the woman''s shift would be over fairly soon.


    Spotting the wild eyed Wren, she stood up to flip her sign. "Do that and you''ll be partially responsible for what I do next. Where did he go?"


    Slapping on the coldest resting b*tch face she had in her arsenal, the woman said, "I can''t give that information to a non-party member. Even a spouse would have to-"


    Wren said, "I don''t give a damn about the rules right now. I''ve been holding back my true ability for quite some time. If I have to, I''ll TEAR my way through those enchanted bars and read it myself."


    Practiced at hiding her nervousness, the registrar did her best to ignore the ocean blue spectral fire dancing around the cleric''s left eye. "Don''t ruin your future over this. He made the only choice he felt-"


    "Don''t ruin YOUR future over this. I like you but I''ll make a hole through you too if it''s necessary," Wren growled.


    The woman hesitated before reaching under her desk for emergency single use magic items.


    "Crack a single one of those and your fate is sealed," the cleric added as reality began to slightly buckle and ripple around her ''realer than real'' presence.


    The woman sighed and put them down, reaching for the form drawer instead. Wren barely managed to pack away the extra power of existence before she got herself and Orison kicked out of it. The sweeping sensation of the world will lazily trying to find the source of disturbance before ceasing to care put goosebumps on everyone nearby.


    As Wren read the information, she absentmindedly said, "I won''t blame him for doing what he has to do. I''ll make sure to go easy on him. He''ll be able to walk again some day."


    As if saying his title summoned him like a devil, the man in question came lumbering down, summoned by the woman pushing her panic button. When he saw who was causing the ruckus, the bear of a man chuckled.


    "You, little girl, know how to run your mouth. Let''s hope you can back it up or you''re going to the holding cell to sleep off your delusions," he said as multiple buff enchantments fired off.


    She didn''t even look at him as he collapsed to floor with no feeling below the waste. He tried to run a healing from a magic ring before a tiny explosion issued from his back, taking a small section of spinal cord with it.


    "Sorry. I don''t have any silver needles on me at the moment and steel conducts magic poorly," Wren said as she stepped outside.

 274 The Magician 32

    If the situation wasn''t so dire, he would have laughed at the cleric''s intonation. Sadly, it fit the warp and weft of the current twisted world''s requirements for proper casting. Whatever enjoyment he could derive from the middle school syndrome poetry was surpassed by greater needs.


    Unfortunately that wasn''t the only progress bar Orison had to worry about. Wren wasn''t the only one with a big secret. Steel had one of his own as well. Close to an hour before the destination, the armored man''s ''corruption'' rate had climbed a few percent as well. That meant Steel was already fighting for his life and drawing on a forbidden power to keep going.


    Although it would recover with rest and disuse, every quarter mark was a hard line with consequences for passing it. Whatever entity the armored man had made a bargain with, it wasn''t anything good. That was why, when it shot clear past twenty-five and neared thirty before slowing back down, Orison winced and started wondering if he should hope the man would die before reaching fifty.


    By the time Wren had reached the freshly dug out entrance to an earthy tunnel, Steel''s corruption rate slipped up one point after it had hit forty. With the necessity of having to slow down or fall prey to traps, Wren''s Find Objective assisted journey saw the points climb another two in steady, five minute intervals. The young mage realized that the man was already dead but that hadn''t stopped the rise of corruption.


    "Damn it! I knew it was weird. Well, now I know what happened to the original person before he got sucked into being stuck in the repeating loop of this plane. If Wren doesn''t reach him before the line goes much over fifty, her resurrection technique isn''t going to be worth squat because he''ll be an undead. One of the scary ones, for sure," Orison mused in wary concern.


    His goal was trashed but out of sentimentality, Orison continued to help the cleric reach Steel. Chances were high that the armored man would just tear her apart on sight but it''s what she wanted and Orison felt he owed her that much after everything. He wondered if he''d even be able to accomplish that much because after Steel''s corruption rate passed seventy percent, story synchronization started lowering with it.


    Starting to fatigue and running out of reserves, Wren shouted out for Steel in heart wrenching despair. Perhaps it was a combination of a human being more desirable prey to undead and the last vestiges of humanity left in the man but he actually showed up. Ripping and clawing his way to her, their eyes met and the cleric was certain that when he reached her, she was dead. Yet, she wanted nothing more than to be right where she was.


    The kobolds, goblins and other less known harassers of humanity scattered like cockroaches when the lights came on. Despite that, few survived Steel''s path of destruction to Wren. When they met, she dodged a jerky swipe only to wrap herself around his armorless and wound riddled chest.


    With what must have been the last of revenant Steel''s fading consciousness, he asked, "Wh-why?"


    Holding back a pained scream as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder and claw-like fingers into her back, she gritted out, "Because I love you."


    All the failure and regret bottled up inside Steel manifested itself as a bitter howl. It was the last defiant act of a broken man who knew that in the next few seconds, he was going to destroy the only thing that had given color to his dull world since he was a child. Those last few seconds weren''t wasted but Orison knew Wren''s own last act of defiance was doomed to fail.


    "Barren Mother, on you I call. I have chosen the one I desire to pull from your peaceful bosom and into the sufferings of life. Release the seal, oh granter of eternal serenity," the cleric''s agony laced voice implored.


    Contrary to the young mage''s assumption, the loss of virtue required to unleash the pent up procreative power was a great deal more metaphorical than literal. The mingling of their blood from his wounds into the ones he had caused and the corruption laced saliva of his bite into her shoulder was more than sufficient. It was quite a pretty light show in spirit sight as well.


    As the power of eldritch ritual locked horns with a semi divine patron mark''s ability, both of them received a brief stay of execution. There was even a moment where the tides of corruption started to reverse. Although he didn''t see it accomplishing much, Orison directed all their accumulated grace to bolster the unleashed sigil''s effects.


    Seeing no reason not to fight the good fight til the inevitable bitter end, he even lent some power to mending the man''s body like it was a torn shirt. Whatever was in his power to do, he did just to grant them even a fraction of a second longer together. Despite how pointless it seemed, Orison tried to remember the importance of the little things.


    It was then that the young mage felt it. Although it was completely unnecessary, the entity behind Steel''s curse was offended by the thwarting of its will and moved to crush the faltering resistance. It was a kind of pettiness Orison was all too familiar with.


    There was also something familiar that tickled his mind about the particular feeling of the entity''s essence. With nothing better to do in the last seconds before he''d be sent back to the maze with a torn soul and damaged consciousness, the young mage delved down the line of that dark power for an image of its sender. What he saw left him in horrified awe but also sparked an insane idea.


    Through Wren, Orison worked a ritual he''d only used once before. Steel''s dark blood and some small pieces of torn ribbons of flesh rapidly whipped into a magic circle containing the model for healing, mending and a spot for sacrifice. With a monumental and exhausting heave of intent that would bring the world will''s attention swiveling in their direction, he shoved a portion of the entity''s power towards the sacrifice portion.


    Lost in trying to capture each visceral moment of their embrace, Wren didn''t even notice her own mouth open to say, "Life to death, death to life."


    The circle flared to life. Latched onto the dark essence and where it came from, Orison used the paltry amount of key power he could filter through to tie them closer, use the entity''s surprised recoil to pull them across to where it was. And although it worked, whether or not it should have been done was another question altogether.


    The stygian darkness of their new surroundings didn''t stay that way for long. Heavily curse laden air met circle and the same catalytic reaction that warped the magic circle to ridiculously powerful and warped function once before, occurred again. Circle bursting forth brilliant light, the gigantic creature sharing the deeply buried space with them was revealed in all it''s grotesque glory.


    Withered and desiccated, the football stadium sized mummified fetus lay partially suspended in the air. It''s necrotized umbilical cord whipping around it like a writhing and wounded snake. In the next moment, nothing was visible. But considering the most and next to only interesting feature in the cavernous space, no one was that upset about it.


    Alternating waves of darkness and light built up speed until the giant undead demigod let out a shriek of pain and rage that went off like a sonic bomb. Not that it mattered to the couple inside the circle. They had been pulled into Orison''s desolate realm. Then next moment, three figures spilled out. Orison had separated from Wren. Hopeful and prepared for such an event, he took advantage of the disorientation to have Wren activate the circle again before the weakened and wounded undead thing could destroy them.


    Before his desolate realm dragged them in again, as a mountain of life crystal sprang into being around Wren, Orison reversed the calling that the First Family control device within the maze sent to him. Two more confused people joined the mix. In the next iteration there were five naked people spitting out clay. With the last big activation of the circle left to go, Orison linked his key to it and activated it himself.


    What the young mage attempted next was completely beyond his or his key''s ability to fully accomplish. But, he tried up to the very limit of what he was capable. He only hoped it would be enough to achieve his most desired goal. Anything extra outside of that was just bonus.


    He reach to connect Osmos Nine with the Maze control system. He reached for connections to all the devil controlled ''crossroad posts'' that bore a striking resemblance to the ''demon fingers'' of another place. But most important to him, Orison reached for the connections to several souls caught in a never ending nightmare of grim stories on three different linked planes.


    Because of how things turned out, he already forfeited his decade of protected meditation meant to allow him to digest the concepts his tower was holding. Because of his unexpected growth of paternal affection for Wren and Steel, he forfeited the massive amount of grace and quite a large amount of the life crystal to afford them a head start on whatever future path they decided to walk.


    The biggest sacrifice had been control, however. In reaching out so far and stretching himself so thin, much was left to chance. In such a situation, there were bound to be unforeseen results and consequences. There were plenty. But under the chaos of the moment, all that could reliably be determined was results when the dice of fate stopped rolling.


    All things considered, he hadn''t ''saved'' very many but millions of soul cores were ripped from the triad of planes'' control to seek reincarnation. The undead kingdom had been a major repository of them. It wasn''t the only method the three planes had used to trap souls but it had been one of the most important and housed nearly all of the key figures Orison cared about. Apparently all but one, because he hadn''t sensed its presence.


    As he burned through nearly all of his Osomos Nine retrieval reward to emergency transport the meager handful of surrounding people not already bound to the maze, the young mage lamented bitterly. Out of all that he had managed to accomplish, he felt almost sure that he hadn''t saved Grit. Out of all the hollow soul victims, he mourned the most for the sheer bitterness of the relived fate that particular man had to endure.


    ***


    With very little time to gauge gains and losses, the group of people appeared in the extra dimensional maze. Only the most observant were vaguely aware that a column of black lightning writhing with angry purple streaks was about to land where they were. The sheer force and size of which lent imagination to the idea of utter destruction.


    As Orison once again battled to place the fatigued key back into his tower''s door so he wouldn''t be dragged down into a dangerous deep trance, several arguments were breaking out. At one point, the young mage''s concentration was broken to the degree of failing, dooming him to a VERY long and likely fatal nap. Dimitri had assaulted him, almost killed him.


    That hadn''t gone over well with the group Orison had brought back with him. Some people had died but someone revived them. Before he had recovered enough to focus on the outside world, a tremor caused by the disturbing violation of safe zone rules, shook the maze. Shortly after, people were being teleported elsewhere.


    ***


    During his deep sleep, the young mage relived his entire life in reverse and then in fast forward. From people to animals, to sentient mineral, to unfathomable entity; all the parts that his soul had retained or regained were aired out and repacked away with the efficiency of a compressed file into a solid state hard drive. Most of the time, he was a passive observer but sometimes it felt far more real. Some dim part of himself realized that the physical form left to the mercies of the outside world was taking advantage and being taken advantage of.


    It all took an unknown but long feeling amount of time. That feeling was intensified when he was forced to go through it a second time. One of his pact spirits had reacquired and ''helpfully'' returned a few more of the mystically resource dense pieces of his ''old self''. Fortunately, the second time only had to cover the new additions and was mostly free of ''vivid'' memories that all too often included persons from the real world aiding in the reenacting of.


    With glacier slowness, the young mage opened his eyes and moved with the stiffness of a reanimated corpse out of a cushion lined crystal sarcophagus. The first thing he noticed was his ''knight'' knelt in front of it, facing outwards in what appeared to be some kind of standby mode. After placing the energy starved defender back into the desolate realm, he left the circular, crystalline room he was in.


    As if some mechanism inside was waiting for him to stir, the lights of the room powered down and a slit of a opening appeared in a part of the spherical wall. Walking out, he stood in an anti-chamber with only one person in it. The young man was dressed in punk metal accessories and had a single red streak in his black hair.


    Orison cleared his throat to get the meditating ''punk rocker''s attention before cutting him off with, "Got dragged into my desolate realm when you added those artifacts?"


    The young man gulped guiltily and slowly nodded. "Well, what''s done is done. Fill me in on what I''ve missed."


    Klein''s addition to the mess came at a much later date but he filled in what he could outside of things Orison specifically asked him not to, such as who did what to him while he was sleeping. Considering the main offenders would have been the ones who stuck around to keep him safe and care for him, it was a miserable trade off that Orison simply chose to focus on the positive of.


    It didn''t escape his notice that Klein himself looked a little too relieved to hear that. But whatever guilt the man possessed, it seemed more focused on the delay of Orison''s recovery than whatever small indiscretions the guy had indulged in. When it came to light that Orison would routinely revert to ''ball of light form'', he guessed the nature of it and wasn''t too bothered by someone playing a little ''look only'' cosplay with the young mage''s sleeping form to provide some ''entertainment''.


    "So, the lady dragon that was once a lich made that recovery casket for me and placed it in the accelerated room but took all the rest of the equipment and items I threw up? And as for the ''slow room'' across the hall, the team pooled their earned points to leave a few people behind?" Orison asked.


    "Yessir! Oh, wait before you leave. We don''t know what will happen when you step out of here. It''s best that you do what ya gotta do before then," Klein replied.


    While the young mage took care of business in the partitioned restroom, the punk rocker rambled, "Suniir is going to be so happy to see you. I joke. No one knows what that guy is thinking...ever.


    "Oh, that''s Pete Senior and Illiyani''s son. He and Little Pete don''t seem to get along at all. I think that''s one of the reasons that good ole Sunshine was chosen to stay.


    "If there''s still enough points left to share between the nanny team, Mimi should be here too. She gave me your game console but make sure to get your magic stick back from her. A lot of people wonder how she connived them out of you but I think I know!


    "I''m pretty sure she''s the reason that girls even came on your knight''s radar. I don''t really think she meant any harm but I guess it was metal head''s last straw on you being taken advantage of or something... Don''t be too hard on her, okay? She a cute little shorty and she was one of the only people who didn''t know much of anything about who they are or where they came from."


    Orison sighed. "I don''t particularly have any intentions on pursuing anything that happened while I was reliant on everybody to take care of me. Worst case, I''ll write it off as even... How long was I down?"

 275 The Magician 33

    "A few years ago you said something about erasing ends and beginnings. After that, you disappeared for a hot minute and then came back as a little dot that grew into the you that you are now. Your guess is as good as mine."


    Orison felt dazed. "I thought it was just a normal dream after the double life review but... I think I left existence and came back in at this ''here and now''. I-I think I might have saw the end of ''everything''. If so, it was really disappointing. Everything was cold and dark as stuff just broke apart and dissipated.


    "Well, enough of that. Might as well go and dispense some gratitude and forgiveness. Just let me check my..."


    The young mage looked within to see what goodies might still be floating around in his inner space. If he had subconsciously tossed out a butt load of stuff when he arrived, there should have been at least some. But contrary to expectation, there was nothing. And it was a far greater direness of ''nothing''.


    Suddenly, it became clear that what he saw wasn''t the ''end of everything''. It was the total dissolution of his inner space. There was nothing left but a void within.


    He would have completely panicked at his inability to ''see'' any kind of connection to anything but he could obviously feel a wholeness of soul along with a strong and freshly cycling supply of essences. It was bizarre and confusing. Spirit sight was telling him that there was no inner space but only moments ago, he had placed the knight within what he thought was his desolate realm with no more effort than a thought and the knight''s passive permission through the spiritual mark on it.


    Experimentally, he reached out to his key but couldn''t feel it. Despite that, he could sense the connection between himself and Klein. The only other entity that he could reach out to was the knight. It was in bad shape. Some kind of transformation was happening to the knight and there wasn''t any energy being supplied to it.


    On instinct alone, Orison sensed what it needed and gave it access to whatever that was. His void was nothingness but somehow also possibly anything but only so much at any given time. He had no guides or rudders on how it worked. The seemingly endless nothingness/potential had taken everything, even his soul and concepts. He wondered how he existed, much less functioned, but he felt perfectly fine.


    He was about to ask Klein if the guy had any spare clothes when he fell through the floor. It was nonsensical. The floor was solid but he slid right through it while being decently solid himself.


    With lightning reflexes, the punk rocker caught Orison by the arm and lifted him back up out of the floor. At least, until he fell through it with the young mage. Apparently, broken physics was contact contagious.


    Thinking that they were falling to their doom, Klein screamed with teary eyes, "Quick! Change into my favorite e-girl and call me a dirty pig or something. I want to die with no regrets!"


    Despite being just shy of terrified himself, Orison couldn''t help but snort out a laugh at how absurd the situation was. It let him gather himself together enough to instinctually draw on one last trump card. An inky darkness slid over and encased him as an over robe like roiling storm clouds unfurled.


    Noticing a slowing of their descent, Klein realized he was practically being carried princess style and was on the verge of tears for a different reason. "Nooo. I don''t want to be saved by a guy like this. Wait, your face is covered. Can you tell me in a high pitched voice that you saved me even though I''m a disgusting pervert because ''love is justice''? Feel free to ad lib."


    Although he was chuckling inside, Orison sighed and said, "How small IS your pride?"


    Klein gave an encouraging smile. "Yeah, like that... but with a girl''s voice. I''ll close my eyes and pretend I just flashed my junk at you."


    "Sorry. Maybe if we were about to die for real but it looks like we''re actually being drawn to a specific place. Thank goodness the over robe that Benjamin made for me has a good deal of its own power or that would have been more than my poor nerves could have handled," the young mage muttered.


    Orison didn''t believe he had ever seen someone so depressed to be ''safe''. "Buck up or when I figure out was going on with my power, I''ll awaken the memories of your life AS a girl. She pretty much willingly enslaved herself to a big burly orc-like dude."


    As they drifted into a huge, cavernous room that looked like it was made of large shadowy cotton balls, Klein looked at the young mage in horror. "No, please! I''m sorry! Wait... Did he have a mean wife? I''m down for some abusive lesb-"


    As Orison was pulled into an invisible sphere in the center of the ''shadow cotton room'', the punk rocker looking young man was pushed out of the young mage''s grip. Klein squinted his eyes at the the invisible wall that caused him to plummet into the downy soft room lining. A fraction of a second later, he was joined by the young mage after emerging again from it.


    There was a thoughtful look on Orison''s face as he re-clothed himself once again. This time, it was visually the same outfit he had once worn long ago after the Wish Tower on Osomo. It was a personal favorite.


    Klein cocked his head to the side and said, "That was... anticlimactic."


    Orison chuckled with a raised eyebrow, looking almost in a good mood despite a well of sadness in his eyes. "Busted out the word-a-day calendar for that one, didn''t we? Maybe for you... Not that time has much meaning in this place but how long was I in there? You didn''t have to wait too long did you?"


    The punk rocker was confused. "I''ve taken longer blinks."


    Orison let out a relieved breath. "I was kind of worried that I''d come out and you''d have gone insane from being alone for decades. I can willfully compress or even forget things but you''re still too spiritually attached to being human to do that."


    Klein, unable to hold his curiosity, asked, "What happened in there? You don''t feel much like... well, you."


    For a brief moment, deep grief drifted over Orison''s features before being packed away just as deeply. "A lot of hard choices and taking a lot of time to make them... The thing we think of as a maze is actually more like a nursery for newborn void walkers. It was made before the Greater Reality we come from even existed. The First Family stumbled on this place and somehow took control of the outer layers.


    "The death of several potential natal void walkers was what caused their current decline. I doubt they even know... I always had the impression that the First Family was ruthless and amoral but ultimately relatively fair. Maybe they are but the suffering they''ve caused over tampering with things they don''t understand is immense on a scope I can''t even process. Not that I''m in any position to judge that harshly.


    "I''m not going to flood you with details but since you came with me, I''ll explain a little. Filling the prerequisites for becoming a void walker is hard. Surviving becoming one is almost impossible. This place exists to give a newborn one a fighting chance but the First Family''s high jacking of the top levels practically made it a deathtrap instead."


    Klein said, "Are voidy things so weak?"


    Orison shook his head. "It''s the opposite in a way, at least in the beginning. They have too much control over themselves and their resources without the understanding. It''s accidental OP suicide."


    Tapping his septum ring, Klein said, "Kind of like that anime guy who got bullied until he got super esper powers and ended up a giant exploding meatball?"


    "That''s... not that far off," the young mage said.


    Orison shook himself out of his reveries and added, "For their safety and well being, I had to sever all the connections I had with people before my rebirth as an endless being. Aside from some wonky exceptions here in the maze,maybe a couple of people in different splays of existence, no one even remembers me."


    The punk rocker looked like his brain would collapse trying to take that in. "Why would everyone forget?"


    Turning his back on Klein, Orison schooled his voice to sound normal as he explained, "When I became ''endless'', I had to erase my beginning and end. The way I did it... It kind of erased ''me'' and I don''t even really know how I did it. The maze used accumulated resources to replace my presence with other possibilities so that there wasn''t a violation of causality.


    "For something in a lower dimensional existence to affect something in a higher one is one of the BIG violations. I would have been destroyed or banned for all time to the ''outside''... THE outside. See what I mean about how hard it is to become a void walker?"


    "Dude... tell me the perks were worth it. That''s flipping wrecked," Klein said in clueless but genuine sympathy.


    The young mage sucked in a shuddering breath. "It will be. I have to believe that... All I can say is that I''m glad it''s been a forever or two since the maze had to help out a newborn. It took a lot. I never really realized until now, just how much I was a part of... everything."


    Relatively recomposed, Orison turned towards Klein with a weak smile. "Well, I wanted a clean start. I just didn''t realize how ''clean'' a start could actually get... Before I get busy with other things, you know you''re still technically one of my familiars, so to speak. Do you want to be set free? You still haven''t gotten that human lifetime vacation that you wanted."


    Klein thumbed his nose. "Meh, I can kick it with you for now."


    "Then, because I''m about to work your *ss off, I''ll show a little generosity first," the young mage said.


    With a thought, the maze moved them to the ''slow room'', nearly giving Suniir and Mimi a nerve induced breakdown. It wasn''t easy going from the high stress life that they were living, earning points from the First Family''s screwed up challenges. The psychologically unhealthy situation that they and some others had been put in made Orison feel bad that the two couldn''t forget and get a cleaner redo like everyone else had.


    As he looked them over, he had to agree with Klein''s assessment. Mimi was a cutie but she had aged sooty streaks across her soul that spoke of old villainy. Suniir had a chronic case of deeply buried hatefulness and emotional distance from getting his heart broken one too many times from just about every source possible for a person to endure.


    "Mimi, if you''ll help me with three favors, I''ll let you keep the cane. Not only that but I''ll help you finish bonding with it and introduce you to the original creator," he said.


    The sweet expression fell off her face and transformed into the visage of a devil trying to make a ruinous bargain. Despite that, she wasn''t that experienced and her loopholes were too easy to close.


    "You and Reese are both intolerable bullies! It was my turn to get some payback. I wasn''t even going to be that mean about it," Mimi said with teary eyes.


    Giving her a saintly smile, the young mage said, "You''re allowed to bully someone who tried to eat your soul, Ms Silk Purse. Never the less, that''s water under the bridge. You served your time and was forgiven ages ago... Neither I nor Reese could have imagined that your soul''s karma would slap you so ironically the very moment you were reborn as a person."


    Mimi said sullenly, "Of course YOU wouldn''t know but Reese had me reincarnated in ''story land'' on purpose."


    The young mage sighed. "Well, you got a few licks in... literally. Pretending to be Vivian so you could sweet talk me out of stuff... If it wasn''t so hurtful, I''d be impressed at your creativity."


    With a leer on her face, she said, "You didn''t look ''hurt'' to me. It''s a shame Klein showed up. I almost got your robe too."


    He leered right back. "I may have been on auto pilot but I recall making you ''work'' pretty hard for it."


    Putting her ''cute'' face back on, she said, "You''re welcome. You worked pretty hard yourself. I''ll be generous and give you a solid ''B''. No real creativity but what can you expect from a sleeping person?"


    Unable to help himself, Orison laughed til he cried, "There''s no winning against a shameless person."


    Klein nodded sagely as he patted the young mage on the back supportively. "You learn to like it. Just remember, you''re not really a simp if you get the girl.??


    Trying hard to pack the bitterness back in, Orison got down to business. "Suniir, just explaining everything to you isn''t enough for you to understand. I want to show you, at least what I know. I want you to see what I saw. Out of everyone who shared time in the recovery coffin with me for one reason or another, you didn''t do anything wrong. You were the one wronged. You''ve been wronged from the time you were a child but no one could give you the answers to any of it.


    "If you want to understand, I can show you but the choice is yours. I''m not asking for forgiveness. I''m offering to let you see the truth as unfiltered as possible."


    As Orison waited for him to make his decision, the young mage studied Suniir, trying to figure out just how he could have mistook him for Winter. On the surface, it was easy enough to see similarities between him and the form Winter wore while pretending to be the deep elf named Deacon. Just the skin and a little of the same natural faint scent of strangely complementary sweetness and brimstone, that''s where it ended.


    Suniir was a head taller and more solidly built. He had shorter, broader ears. Putting aside parts that Orison didn''t even want to think about for having a monster of a man like Pete for a father, he also had brown eyes and a relatively wholesome soul. The only thing that really made sense was the connection between Iliyani and Winter and how the young man was indirectly linked to that.


    "I want to know," the young man said with grim determination.


    Wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, Orison allowed Mimi to pull him and Suniir into a shared illusion. Within, the young mage shared his meeting with Iliyani. He shared moments of Winter''s life he thought would allow Suniir to understand the surviving parts of his mother and grant him closure. To finish off, he shared the scene of Pete begging to give everything he had to let his son exist again and the conversation that lead up to it.


    In hind sight, Suniir''s soul wasn''t the one he had saw. It was the soul that would become ''Little Pete''. But at the time, even if caused by a misunderstanding, the bull man''s feelings of fatherly concern and desperation were no less genuine.


    With red rimmed eyes, Suniir said, "Grandpa told me that mom couldn''t let go of the past. I always thought he meant you but it was everything. It was... too much. I- don''t hate you but I can''t forgive Rose.


    "It doesn''t matter that she wasn''t strong enough. Rose''s ghost ''ate'' her away. The person afterwards, she wasn''t my mother or Rose but I''m a little happy she thought of me."


    Locking eyes with Orison, Suniir looked like he was searching for something. "I''m sorry you couldn''t find River''s soul."


    The unexpected comment caught the young mage off guard. It was the most painful thing he had to endure during all his successes and failures in the undead kingdom of the story world. It was a dagger in the heart of all he had accomplished within the ''cradle'' of the maze. He had tried to put it behind him, forced himself to forget and gloss over it, but his subconscious held onto it like some dark treasure. Even covering it with the sadness of being unable to save Grit wasn''t enough to bury it.


    The rest of the time spent in the illusion Mimi weaved for them was a blank spot after that. There was merely the sense that it had taken a long time and it had been eventful. Two people who were too raw inside must have moved Mimi to get a little creative.


    When they emerged, both of them had grown and healed a great deal. Whatever happened inside of the illusion that allowed such healing to happen, only she knew. In unspoken agreement, neither Suniir nor Orison voiced any curiosity over it. All that remained amid deep respect and ghostly echoes of fading affection was a faint and lingering regret that being friends, much less anything else, would be too difficult for either of them.


    After finding the location of Pete Senior and Junior, before requesting Suniir''s transportation there, Orison said, "I''ve opened the way past the areas controlled by the First Family near where they are. Get YOUR family, Amy and Theo into the maze proper. Don''t be in too much of a hurry to leave. There''s a little danger but a lot of opportunities hidden in this place."


    In the last few seconds before he was transported, Suniir clasped the side of Orison''s neck and gave him a light head butt. "No way to move but forward... for both of us."


    After a short rest, Mimi collected herself and said, "Klein, make yourself a list of whatever cracked stuff you like for your illusion vacation. Mommy and daddy have important business to take care of."


    "In light of what you know, Mimi, don''t you think that kind of joke is in sh*t taste!?" Orison said, a mask of barely held rage.


    Giving him a grim look that didn''t match the heart shaped face she possessed, Mimi said, "Who''s joking?"


    Orison''s mind blanked from the gear grind such a statement caused as he was dragged back into the young woman''s illusionary world.