Eight 5.11: The One Who Got Away

Author's Notes: One, I'd like to thank everyone for their well wishes. Both my wife and I are feeling much better now. And two, I making a small retcon to the previous chapter. It didn't make sense to me for Eight to be able to cast a spell on the flyer and not see that it was a giant goose.

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No new creatures appeared, but that didn’t mean we could rest easy. The goose hadn’t once stopped circling with us at the center of his flight path. The behavior worried me, since animals didn’t typically spend that kind of energy unless it would benefit them somehow.

‘It’s not a ritual circle, is it?’ Yuki asked.

“That’s my worry,” I replied. “The goose might be casting a big spell at us.”

Fala waved me over to a patch of clear ground and said, “Show me.”

So I drew the pattern, and she watched the line in the dirt become a series of overlapping circles while also irregularly moving in and out at times.

“This isn’t anything I recognize,” she said, quirking her head. “Perhaps seeing the goose’s talents will help identify what’s happening?”

“He’s staying out of view,” I replied.

But she stared at me like the answer to that problem was obvious, which it was: all we had to do was sneak toward a better position. That was the nice thing about a circle, if we moved in any direction, we were bound to intersect with the boundary.

“Still west?” I asked.

Fala nodded. “If we’re being targeted from the air, that’s even more reason to get under stone.”

We checked the bodies of the animals around us to make sure we weren’t leaving anything valuable behind, then Fala merged into her figurine to reduce her presence, and I started west toward the mountains looming in the distance.

Moving slowly and carefully, I found that the ground was soft and tender from spring’s ministrations. I let the land direct me step-by-step toward where I would be quietest, following its contours to keep me hidden from any predators that might still be lurking nearby.

Occasionally, the Deer God nudged my path as if I was threading my way through a maze.

As the minutes passed and my spells were continuously refreshed, my dantians started to feel hollow, even with Yuki helping to carry burden. Eventually, though, the effort paid off. We broke through the ring that the goose had created around us.

I climbed an oak tree outside the boundary and waited for him to come into view. My Night Eyes picked him out, his wings flapping against the starry sky above him.

Merohalein (Rockhead Goose, Silvered)

Talents: Hidden Attacker, Wilier than Most, Hard-Headed, Basher, Stomach for Anything

God damn it, I thought. He’s the same one as before.

‘That Merohalein?’ Fala asked.

Yes.

‘So it’s likely not a ritual he’s casting,’ Fala sent.

‘What is he doing then?’ Yuki asked.

Even as the question was asked, however, I saw the rockhead goose dive toward the forest floor where… the tree spirits became outraged and another creature bellowed in frustration. Merohalein immediately shot up into the sky, circling briefly before flying toward where we’d previously been. Then, once he was some distance away, he changed direction to continue his larger circle.

The bastard, I thought.

‘He’s luring monsters toward where he thinks we still are,’ Yuki said.

‘Letting them do the hard work of wearing us down,’ Fala added.

All the while doing some scavenging, I thought.

It was easy to think of Merohalein as Hard-Headed, bashing his way through a fight, but the goose’s first two talents were Hidden Attacker and Wilier than Most. A tactic this clever and efficient was well within his capabilities.

Yuki asked the question we were all considering: ‘Can we take him down?’

‘If he stayed to fight, yes, but he fled as soon as the battle turned against him last time,’ Fala said.

And we don’t know what animals he’s riled up against us, I thought. Or how long he’s going to continue to do so before he swoops in to take advantage of the situation.

‘The uncertainties are… too many?’ Yuki wondered.

Now that we knew the purpose behind Merohalein’s flight path, the number of zigzags indicated he was leading at least twelve different creatures toward our last position. I clenched the tree branch under me in frustration. I hate to say it—this monster really needs to die—but I don’t think that we can manage as is.

I felt a sigh move through Fala. ‘Agreed.’

‘Same here,’ Yuki said. ‘We don’t like leaving him roaming along our back trail, though.’

And what say you? I asked the Deer God.

And from him, I felt appreciation for the rockhead goose’s tactics, as well as a delight in slipping free of them. The game between prey and predator was as old as history; it was only right to let it play out.

We have a consensus then, I thought.

The next time Merohalein came into view, I refreshed the Prey of the Hunter on him, then climbed down to the ground.

Our next step was to find somewhere to shelter for the night.

###

Another hour later, I found a large outcropping of gneiss. The striated stone was actually quite common in the area, and nearly the whole hillside seemed to be composed of it.

Fala emerged from her figurine to sink a stairwell into the ground and closed it up after we walked down into it, leaving a series of vents behind for air. The area around us trembled as she expanded the space ahead to form a room, using the excess to thicken the walls above and effectively create a bunker for us to overnight in.

While gneiss wasn’t as uniformly hard as granite, if you put three feet of the stone between your enemies and you, it’d do. A curtain of the stuff blocked the view to the stairway, so that we could safely light a candle stone without it showing through the vents. A fire and hot food were risky—the scents might give us away—but we would at least be able to rest safely.

Fala gave the bunker one last examination before she sat down with a thump. I went over to sit beside her, and the Deer God emerged shortly thereafter, taking a spot behind me.

I leaned back against his body, and he didn’t seem to mind. Fala followed suit and retrieved a couple of tamales for each of us. The Deer God ate his share, corn husk and all. No one said anything for a time—we all just focused on the food at first—but eventually we were done and there were the spoils of the hunt to distribute.

I got up to start creating piles of silverlight. At a gesture, Fala formed dimples in the gneiss to contain each portion. There were twenty-seven for the rats, and the last big pile was from the vine. We didn’t bother with pooling the darklight, since none of us were willing to absorb it.

“This is a lot,” I said, as observant as always. At a guess, there was somewhere between twenty and twenty-five thousand points’ worth of silverlight here.

The Deer God sighed behind me. I felt an emotion move through him, one too abstruse for me to understand or conceptualize. All I could tell was that it didn’t seem like desire, hunger, or greed or anything like that.

I certainly felt the silverlight calling to me, but all of it was slated for other uses. Fala came to stand beside me.

“Are you sure I should use the majority?” she asked.

“I am,” I replied.

And that was all it took for her to start reaching for the light. The vine and several of the rats went to pushing her to Level 14. She didn’t gain any new talents in the process, but did apparently pick up a handful of skill ranks. She also put her free point into Wisdom, bringing it to 18.

“We grow stronger,” I whispered into her ear afterward, and she grinned at me, dancing a little in my arms.

All of us were now Level 14, except for the Deer God who was probably Level 12, though he seemed a lot stronger than that to me. My sense was that he could punch way above his weight.

Anyway, Fala, Yuki, and I would now split any incoming silverlight three ways, at least until the Deer God indicated he wanted his fare share. Until then, though, there was still quite a lot leftover from the evening’s battles.

Fala brought her brigandine to Level 5, and the armor briefly glowed silver.

I also brought my bow to Level 5, a soft chime sounding as it became dawn. I felt the reverberation travel through my hands and into my arms, back, and torso, settling like it was at home there. The stave changed colors too. It turned silver with leafy-green striations running along its length.

I’d been using the same bow for eight years, so the grip already felt natural in my hands, but it seemed to belong to me now in a way different than before.

When I articulated the feeling to Fala, she smiled. “This bow is special to you—made from a tree felled by your efforts and the stave shaped by your hands directly. The light you’ve fed it is light you’ve hunted yourself.” She put her hand on my arm in the way she usually did to signal me to pay attention. “Everyone and everything walks the Path to Perfection, our Eight, and for this bow, the direction of its path is you.”

“It’s a path of service,” I said after a moment thinking. “I mean, that’s what tools do by nature.”

Fala nodded. “And this bow is a servant raised from childhood, steeped in the ways of your own Path to Perfection.”

“But what does that mean for your armor?” I asked, lifting the cloth of her jacket to examine the steel plates riveted to the underside.

“This brigandine is also dawn, but the relationship is less… personal. Like servant hired later in life.” Fala’s smile spread. “I see you anxious to play with your bow. Go ahead, try it.”

Well, I didn’t need any further prompting. I got into a steady stance and drew the bow.

It was like my limbs were oiled, every muscle, ligament, and bone working smoothly together. If I had to estimate, the draw was now in the eighty-to-ninety-pound range, but there was hardly any stacking at all; just a bit at the end to let me know the bow was approaching its limits.

I carefully eased the string back to resting, then quickly, smoothly drew again. Sighting along the grip, I immediately sensed where an arrow would go. Beyond training, beyond the instincts I’d been honing, I knew.

“The bow is worthy of a name,” Fala said, watching.

“Lily,” I said, the name leaping immediately to mind. Even now, I’m not sure whether it was me who’d come up with it.

“Like the flower?” Fala asked.

The shape of the limbs did remind me of a lily’s flower, so I said, “Yes.” Then I grinned and added, “Princess Lily, because of course she’s special.”

“Our Eight has his quirks,” Fala said, shaking her head. But on the inside, I knew she was giddy.

We were getting stronger. Despite Merohalein and his nonsense. Despite the Maltrans. Despite everyone and everything getting in our way, the Path to Perfection would not be denied us.

I unstrung Princess Lily and let her rest against my pack. Then I pulled Fala down to sitting and began to clap softly for her, singing in celebration of her rise to Level 14. A moment later, she picked up the rhythm and sang along.

It was just the few of us in that little bunker, but the moment was no less joyful for it.

###

Later in the evening, during my turn on watch, I observed a change in Merohalein’s flight path. He abruptly gave up on his circles in favor of sweeping back and forth. The goose must’ve discovered we’d escaped his net and was desperately searching to reacquire our location.

Everyone except for Yuki was asleep by then, so it was just the two of us snickering at the goose’s panic. All that effort he’d invested in taking us out was wasted.

###

The journey afterward went more smoothly. The pattern of clear, sunny days continued, and we encountered many fewer creatures as we traveled. We sensed a handful powerful ones in the distance—the call of their light was strong—but it’d take a sustained effort to track them down, and our mission took precedence.

We traveled northward, finally reaching the road to Bashtotwei in the late afternoon. From there we turned westward, and our pace quickened. Still, the outpost’s walls came into view only as the last of the day’s light was rapidly receding. The land soldiers were in the process of closing the gate.

Fala rushed forward with Dog’s Agility to let them know we were coming. She went ahead, because from this point forward, we would be assuming the roles we’d use for infiltrating the Maltran empire.

She was a bodyguard hired by me, a traveling merchant. Both of us wore bracelets taken from the Maltran saboteurs we’d defeated. We also planned to use false names, since Eight was unusual, and Fala was adamant that I adopt John. She, of course, had to be Emma.

The land soldiers had amused expressions on their faces watching me jog up to the gate.

“Ye just barely made it,” one said.

“And a good thing too,” the other added, “the forest here is especially dangerous at night.”

The two of them wore well-used breastplates, and each carried polearms, one meant for cutting and the other for thrusting. I noted that both land soldiers were dawn and had three talents a piece—good ones too. Neither of them would be a slouch in a fight.

I smiled and offered the documentation provided by Silasenei. While one of the guards looked it over, the other gestured for me to open my pack for him to examine the contents.

“Now then,” he said, “let’s see what you’ve got to trade.”

###

Silasenei’s preparations were immaculate, and the guards found nothing unexpected. We paid a relatively light customs tax and entered the outpost without interference, not even the hint for a bribe. Apparently, because Bashtotwei was located at the far west of the Three-City Alliance, they were desperate for finished goods, and anything that would scare off a merchant was strictly regulated.

The guards were also kind enough to recommend an inn. Sure, they’d likely get a kickback from the owners, but from what I saw of their spirits, they weren’t lying when they said it was a good place. And they also believed they were doing us a favor, because… Whew, this is a rough place.

As soon as we stepped inside the outpost, the tension ramped up inside me. I felt the same thing happen within Fala too, as she began to sweep the main street with her eyes.

Think of the American Old West and a new gunslinger walking into town, the locals carefully observing their entry—gauging how quick they might be with their guns and wondering if they were carrying anything valuable.

According to our bracelets, both Fala and I were dawn, so more than a few gazes lingered in consideration of our fighting strength. I saw in their spirits the curiosity about what might be in my merchant’s pack.

My camera clicked repeatedly, inventorying the people and their talents and sending the information along to Yuki and Fala. There were hunters and soldiers aplenty, some based here in Bashtotwei and others on expedition from elsewhere—going after the big game in the area in an attempt to strike it rich.

There were also oddities in the information presented, and I had peel away the false layers to reveal the spies and bandits hidden among the residents and visitors.

Focusing on the place itself, I saw that the main street had a couple of shops selling general goods, three different smiths specializing in weapons and armor, and a handful of taverns that also looked to double as brothels. From the scent of blood in the air, there must an area devoted to butchering animals nearby—a relatively sizeable one.

One of the guards followed us down the street. When I looked a question at him, he chuckled and said, “Just making sure you arrive all right. Visitors deserve at least one peaceful night in our Bashtotwei.”

###

The inn was called The Bloody Spear, and there was an actual spear mounted over the common room’s fireplace, the head glinting in the firelight. The polished shaft was about six-feet long and also two-inches thick, which would’ve made it sturdy but difficult to handle. You’d need big hands for a weapon like that.

The room held enough tables for about ten groups to eat and drink, and there was a counter at the far end. To the left was a doorway that appeared to lead to the kitchen, and to the right was a set of stairs leading up. A young man wove through the room with a tray of drinks.

The innkeeper behind the counter was a big man in his fifties, his gray hair tied back in a bun. He looked like the kind of person who could compete in a caber toss and win. Maybe he was part dolbec? His Status didn’t indicate it, but the possibility existed.

The big man’s primary talent was Bloody Spear, so the weapon hanging over the fireplace surely belonged to him. He was probably a retired soldier or something similar. The younger man passing out drinks seemed to be his son.

“Name’s Essel,” the innkeeper said, drawing our attention to him, “and this is my place.”

“Call me John,” I replied, approaching him. “My bodyguard and I need a room for one night, maybe two.”

With a grunt, Essel drew a key from under the counter. “Four taak a night, five if you want dinner included. Payment is in advance.”

“And if I want advice on where to sell goods?” I asked.

Essel took in the quality of my and my bodyguard’s gear. “A taak for advice.” Then he grinned. “Four if you want it to be true.”

“The truth, always,” I said, taking out an eltaak and placing it on the counter. “The extra is for the unvarnished truth.”

 “And so it will be.” The innkeeper nodded and gestured for us to follow him to the kitchen.

There, another man, seemingly Essel’s husband, worked to fill a tray of bowls with stew. It smelled strongly of bear meat.

“We’re not fancy like some places—no private rooms here—but we’re out of the common way.” Essel turned his back to the doorway and finished the rest in Signed Diaksh. “Tell me what you’re selling, and I’ll point you to where to go.”

I also turned my back to the door, so that we were side by side. “Spices, including some expensive ones.”

“That’d be Grot’s place then,” Essel signed. “He’ll cheat you, but less than the others. If you’re looking to buy, you should do it there too. Again, the prices won’t be fair, but the goods will be authentic. Too many folks these days are trying to pass off kittens for lions.”

“And what about those skirting the law?” I asked.

“I know lots of people,” Essel signed.

I brought out another eltaak. “If someone wanted to keep heading west, how would they go about it.”

Essel’s husband sent a look my way, spirit stuff streaming along with it. I was always amazed with how much a look between spouses could convey: ‘Be careful. Do you trust this person? The gear is good. Maybe you can milk him for more.’

“Out west is nothing but the wilderness between nations,” Essel signed. “Unless you were intending to cross to get to the other side, in which case you’d need help—a guide as it were. A team more like, assuming you want to reach that place safely. Good folks are hard to find, though.”

 “But you know a lot of people,” I signed. “I’m sure you can introduce us to a few.”

Essel smiled, a gratified feeling spreading through him. “That I can do. Tomorrow, after breakfast. We’ll do it then.”

His husband hummed a little ditty as he walked past with the tray of stew. It smelled better than expected, but then I was hungry after a day of traveling. We might as well eat before heading upstairs to rest.

It was looking like it’d be another full day tomorrow.