Chapter 131: Appearances

Chapter 131: Appearances

Stint sat alone at one of the stone tables in the room that Ascension had decided to call the ‘tavern’. The name was fitting, for all that it lacked a ceiling and had a dirt floor, dirt walls, and tables and chairs made from rough-cloven boulders. The steady glow of the light bulbs behind their stretched-linen shades made the place seem somehow cozy, despite the chill in the air. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, filling the sky with rose-hued light.

The new camp was, without any understatement, amazing. Seeing Ameliah raising walls and breaking rocks with a gesture had been an eye-opening experience for Stint. He’d been asleep—unconscious, really—when she’d constructed Ascension’s camp near Vestvall, but this time, he’d been able to watch.

Ameliah was strong. Unbelievably, inconceivably strong. Stint knew that there were people out there that far outstripped her—his former employer for one—but seeing someone casually levitate a rock large enough to smash him into paste left a certain impression.

I have a long way to go.

Stint ripped off a piece of monster-jerky with his teeth and began chewing laboriously. It was just before sixth bell. He’d finished his watch and saw little point in going to bed. He’d only end up being woken again—first by their stupid wake-up call, and then by his system alarm two hours later.

Almost as if summoned by his thoughts, an aggressively-peppy tune began belting out from beyond the curtain dividing the tavern from the rest of the camp. It was being played on a flute today. Stint groaned and set down his jerky, covering his ears.

Oh, gods. Why?!

A sudden movement from near the line of hearths along the wall made him jump. The woman from Vestvall was struggling to free herself from a pile of furs beside the one fireplace that was lit. She dazedly sat up, looked around the room, and then suddenly shot to her feet, pressing herself against the earthen wall. After a moment, she seemed to relax, laying a hand over her heart.

Stint smiled and took another bite of his jerky. I’m right there with you, lady. Gods know, I’ve woken up in plenty of strange places.

As the flute finished its jaunty melody, the Vestvallan woman seemed to notice him. After a moment, she moved hesitantly toward the table, then spoke. “Um, excuse me, sir, what’s going on? What was that music?”

“They call it ‘reveille’.” Stint said, swallowing. “It means it’s sixth bell.”

The woman blinked. “Okay...”

Stint rubbed at his temples. “I don’t have the faintest idea why anyone would choose to live like this, but they always get up two hours before true dawn.” He let his forehead thunk to the table, then spoke with his face smooshed against the stone. “Every. Single. Day.”

“You’re not with them?” the woman asked.

“What?” Stint raised his head to look at her.

“You said ‘they.’”

“Oh.” He glanced at the white cloak covering his shoulders. “No, I’m a member. I’m just new.” He coughed. “My name’s Stint, by the way.”Ñøv€lRapture marked the initial hosting of this chapter on Ñôv€lß¡n.

The woman’s mouth made an ‘o’ of surprise. “Stint? The archer who was living in Ebert’s old barn?”

“That’s me,” Stint said, feeling Rain’s Winter aura wash over him. He shivered involuntarily, but the woman didn’t seem to be affected. A moment later, the curtain leading to the company hall was jerked aside. Carten led the way into the tavern, laughing and hauling Rain after him in a headlock.

Neither man was encased in armor for once, and Stint wasn’t sure who was dressed more inappropriately for the weather. Rain had on a thin linen shirt and trousers, while Carten was wearing a sleeveless monster-fur vest, open at the front, with shaggy pants to match.

After a bit more struggling, Rain broke free of Carten’s hold, then glared at him as he tried to straighten his hair. Winter subsided for a moment, then a blindingly bright pulse of Purify filled the tavern, making both Stint and the woman flinch.

Stint quickly recovered, licking his now-clean teeth and looking back to see Carten laughing. The big man raised his arm and made a show of sniffing at his armpit, but his mummery was swiftly interrupted.

Tallheart had followed him into the room, and he hoisted Carten from the ground like a dockworker lifting an empty barrel. He casually carried the struggling turtle aside, clearing the way for Ameliah to follow him.

Like the captain, Ameliah was only wearing a simple shirt and trousers. She walked over to stand beside Rain, and he leaned close to whisper in her ear. Carten, who had recovered from his involuntary displacement, began laughing again, pumping his fist into the air. Rain glared at him, then he and Ameliah walked away toward the lit hearth. As they moved, Rain slipped an arm around Ameliah’s waist, and after a moment, she returned the gesture.

Stint snorted. Love ducks. He gnawed off another chunk of jerky. Lucky bastard.

“They’re...together?” the Vestvallan woman asked, taking a seat next to Stint at the table.

“Seems so,” Stint said as more company members began entering the tavern in varying states of consciousness. He gestured to the woman. “What’s your story, anyway?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Lana. Rain and Ameliah invited me to stay with the company for a while.”

“Why?” Stint asked, inspecting her discreetly while she was distracted. She didn’t look like a fighter, just an ordinary young townswoman. She was wearing a tunic that was too large for her and a baggy skirt to match.

She turned to look at him, and he quickly looked away. “They’re protecting me,” she said.

Before Stint could ask why she needed protection, Carten crashed down next to him. “Mornin’ Stint,” he said as Stint flinched. “Who’s yer friend?”

Lana glanced at Stint as the silence stretched. With an effort of will, Stint forced himself to relax, but not before Lana introduced herself.

“I’m...Lana,” she said haltingly.

“Carten,” the big man replied, pointing at his hairy chest with his thumb. “Don’t even think about it. I’m taken.”

“What?” Lana asked.

“He means I’ve claimed him,” said a white-cloaked woman whose name Stint didn’t know. She sat beside Carten, then leaned against his shoulder, patting his bare arm. “I don’t mind sharing, though, if you’re in the mood for some fun.”

Lana blushed furiously and looked away as Carten laughed, freeing his arm and wrapping it around the unfamiliar woman.

“That’s enough of that, Evonna,” Rain said, approaching the table carrying a steaming mug. Ameliah was walking beside him, carrying two more.

“Yes, leave her be,” Ameliah said. “No teasing. Not her and not us.” She set one of the mugs down in front of the Vestvallan woman. “Here you go, Lana. It’s just tea.” She turned to stare at Carten and Evonna as she continued, her voice hardening. “If they’re bothering you, just tell them to stop. They will.”

Stint didn’t see the pair’s reaction to the implied ‘or else’, as he was more interested in what Lana was doing. She had tensed at Rain’s approach, just as he had at Carten’s, freezing like a mouse cornered by a cat.

After a visible struggle, the Vestvallan woman reached out to take the cup, her hand trembling. She paused, then took a deep breath. The shaking stopped. She took the mug, raised it to her lips, and hesitated a moment before taking a sip. She nodded to Ameliah in thanks before shifting her gaze to Rain, taking another deep breath. “Sorry.”

Rain smiled at her. “It’s not your fault.”

Stint looked between them, then his eyes widened as he realized what was happening. This must be the soul-wind thing people were talking about yesterday.

“There’ll be food ready in a little while,” Rain continued, still speaking to Lana. “Ameliah and I are going to go scout around. Just tell Jamus what you want to eat. It’s his turn on breakf—oh, Jamus isn’t here, that’s right. Hmm. Stint, can you cook?”

Stint blinked, surprised by the sudden question. “Kinda?”

“Great. We’ve got a rotation going. Can you cover for Jamus this morning?”

“I guess...” Stint said, glancing over at the hearths. A teenager with unnatural cherry-red spiked hair was walking down the line carrying an armful of logs. He tossed the last of them into the fireplace on the end, then began walking back the other way, blasting each hearth with a Firebolt to get the wood burning.

Stint looked back at Rain, then jerked his chin toward the kid. “Is he cooking too?”

Rain looked in the indicated direction. “Kettel?” He turned back to Stint and nodded. “Yeah, it was supposed to be him, Jamus, and Mereck today. That’s Mereck over there, by the job board. With the black hair.”

Stint glanced in the direction Rain was pointing, then back at the fiery-haired teenager. Dozens of questions were bouncing around his mind, but the one that came out was likely the least important of the bunch. “What’s going on with that kid’s hair? Is it a Fire Mage thing?”

“Hmm?” Rain asked, in the middle of sipping his tea. He looked over at Kettel, then laughed. “No, he’s just going through a phase.”

...what?

Rain nodded. “Right, then. No sense letting all the tasty monsters rot. We’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

Two shakes of a—?

“Don’t ask,” Carten said with a chuckle. “It ain’t worth it.”

Stint looked at Lana, who was clearly as confused as he was. He looked back at the departing form of Rain just in time to see Ameliah shove him playfully, making him stumble and almost drop his tea.

“Lucky bastard,” Carten said out loud, echoing Stint’s thoughts from before.

Evonna cuffed Carten in the back of the head so hard that his face almost slammed into the stone table.

“Ow!” Carten yelped. “What’d I do?”

Rain hugged himself, rubbing at his elbows as he stood atop the wall, looking out at the surrounding hills. Nothing moved. The sentries had been doing their jobs, and it was light enough now to prevent most spawns, at least out in the open, but there could still be things lurking out there beyond the hills. He glanced back at the camp. I should go get my armor...

Ameliah stepped up next to him, then looked down over the edge. “Come on, stop worrying so much.” She jumped down, landing lightly, and with one last moment of hesitation, Rain uncrossed his arms and followed her. He didn’t bother to use Force Ward to absorb the landing, relying instead on his boosted stats to counter the three-meter drop. He had the Malleable Ring on a chain around his neck, Frodo-style, having finally worked out the concentration trick required to wear it as an amulet.

The smell of blood and death rose to greet him, so he activated Purify in response. He kept the radius tight, only clearing the air around him and Ameliah for the moment.

The area beyond the walls was a frozen horror show of gore. Rain had taken the first watch, and repeated exposure to Immolate had melted the snow and frozen earth, turning it all to mud. Over the course of the night, the mud had been churned together with monster blood and entrails, creating a disgusting slush that had gradually frozen solid. Corpses were strewn about everywhere, piled deepest near the wall and extending out to a considerable distance, many of them riddled with arrows.

It had been a rugged defense by recent standards, thanks to the proximity to the crack, but it was nothing compared to the first few nights they’d spent outside Fel Sadanis.

And to think I’ve gotten used to this.

“Okay,” Rain said, closing his eyes and focusing inward. IFF couldn’t help with what he needed to do next; it was a pure effort of will.

Fungiform Stumpers, Murder Shrews, Ice Coursers, Whooping Snails, Vine Shufflers, Sakeren, Dire Sakeren, and Emouiles are all FOOD. Everything else...

[⟬filth⟭!]

The sudden intrusive thought stopped Rain moments before he activated his modifiers, his focus slipping.

Damn it, Dozer! Rain sighed, rubbing at his neck.[So you finally decided to wake up, huh?]

[Rain-King! ⟬filth⟭!]Dozer sent back happily.

Jamus shook his head, too tired to argue. Earning a few extra shares of the night’s spoils was all well and good, but that wasn’t why he’d agreed to this job. Helping the city was part of it, but that wasn’t the real reason.

I need to talk to Bens before I go back to camp. Maybe he can invite Alden and Dami to a meal to get them away from their mother, and then I could...

He sighed, shaking his head again. What? Convince them all to join Ascension?

“Jamus, you coming?” Lago asked.

Frowning, Jamus nodded, then moved to follow the others, leaving the stinking alley behind.

They’re safe. There’s no need to rush things. That bastard Urs can afford his own guards, and despite how we’ve been dashing about all night, the militia has things mostly under control. I’ll get some sleep first, and then... Then I’ll see.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake—”

Brovose caught Hegar’s arm, stopping his hand just short of striking his face. He worked his jaw, wincing at the sting coming from both cheeks. “Ow.”

“Finally,” Hegar said, pulling free from Brovose’s grip and climbing off his chest. “Get up, you lazy ass. Gods help me, if you go back to sleep again, I’ll do things to you that will make you wish...”

Brovose stopped listening. There was little point in paying attention to Hegar most of the time. There was also little point in trying to explain the benefits of Torpor, even if he’d had a mind to reveal the workings of the hidden passive. Hegar wouldn’t care.

With a mighty yawn, Brovose pushed himself up into a sitting position. Working at his own pace, he climbed out of bed, then donned his robe and checked the pockets for any surprises or missing equipment. Finding everything as it should be, he grabbed a cold sausage from one of the trays scattered about the room, then began gnawing on it as he followed Hegar and Anton down from the room and out onto the street.

The entire time, Hegar had been nattering on and on. The gist was that Lana hadn’t returned from her mission yesterday and that Hegar wanted to track her down.

Brovose frowned as he considered this. He hoped that nothing terrible had happened to her. A sulky Hegar was even worse than a regular one. Besides, she’d seemed nice.

I wonder if she decided to run away, he thought, fighting back another yawn. He glanced at Hegar, then quickly hid a smile. I can see why she would. Hegar needs to learn to stop trying to steer the river. It’s much better to just let it carry you along.

“Wait here,” Hegar snapped suddenly, startling Brovose with a hand against his chest. They’d reached what looked like an inn, one of only three that he knew of in the city. The weathered sign depicted a man pouring grain from a sack into the gaping mouth of the fattest horse Brovose had ever seen. The words ‘Hole and Oats’ were burned into the wood beneath the faded picture.

Brovose snorted as Hegar disappeared inside. Ridiculous. I love it.

“What?” Anton asked, looking at him.

Brovose gestured. “The sign.”

“What about it?” Anton asked.

“The horse,” Brovose said. “Look how fat it is.”

“Oh,” Anton said, then paused, looking at the sign. “That’s supposed to be a horse? I thought it looked more like Hegar’s mother.”

Brovose grinned. “Nice.”

“THEY DID WHAT!?” Hegar’s voice boomed from within the inn. “WHY DIDN’T YOU SEND SOMEONE?!” There was a crash that sounded like an overturned table.

Brovose glanced at Anton, then sighed and stepped through the door. Using Barrier Shaping, he sculpted Arcane Bulwark into a dome, then placed the modified spell over the cowering innkeeper, blocking him from Hegar’s wrath. He also layered a few more augments into the barrier, imbuing it with the strength it would need if Hegar was really serious about harming the man.

Hegar lowered his fist, then glared in Brovose’s direction. “What the hells are you doing, Sleeper.”

“Saving you from yourself,” Brovose said, yawning.

“I wasn’t going to hurt him,” Hegar snapped. He kicked at the barrier like a petulant child. As his foot made contact, there was a flash and a crack of thunder. Hegar’s boot was blown away by the backlash, almost sending him to the ground. “Gah!” he shouted, hopping on one foot, the other one smoking slightly.

Anton laughed, slapping Brovose on the back. “Lightning? Nice touch.”

Brovose smiled. “And fire.” He snapped his fingers, and the barrier seemed to vanish. In reality, he’d only made it invisible. Using Barrier Shaping again, he shrunk it down, then used Affix Conjuration to tie it to the innkeeper so it would move with him. There was no sense letting the mana he’d already spent go to waste. Besides, it would be funny once the man realized he couldn’t touch anything without the barrier pushing it away.

Brovose rubbed at his chin. Hmm. I should probably reclaim the elemental aspects before he burns down the building...

As Brovose worked to further modify the construct, Hegar stomped over to him and Anton, then past them and back into the street. “Come on. We’re going to their camp. They took her.”

“Really?” Anton said, following.

Brovose raised an eyebrow. Finishing with the barrier, he nodded to the innkeeper. “That should last about thirty minutes. Have fun.” He turned and followed after Hegar.

Just before he reached the door, a flicker of motion caught the corner of his eye, and he glanced at the stairs at the back of the room. There was a distortion in the ambient mana there, so he switched to the active version of Mana Sight, revealing the crouched figure of a person watching them.

Whatever spell the person was using to veil themself appeared to be purely visual, unlike any concealment spell Brovose knew of. The technique was obviously flawed, however. It didn’t block Mana Sight at all, allowing him to see the mage’s mana flowing, plain as day. They were no threat, judging from the volume of power he was seeing.

Hmm.

Smiling, Brovose waved to the strange, invisible figure, then ducked out of the inn. Hegar beckoned, then stomped off in the direction of the gate.

Brovose chuckled to himself. No, I don’t think I’ll tell him yet. Let’s see where this leads.

Hegar set a quick pace, and before long, they reached the impressive earthen walls of Ascension’s camp. There were no sentries atop them, and while Mana Sight couldn’t penetrate solid structures, there were no disturbances in the ambient mana that would have indicated recent spellcasting. It’s deserted? Interesting.

“Right, we’re going in,” Hegar said. “Let me lead. Remember, we don’t know what their leader can do, so let me do the talking. Try to look tough.”

“There’s nobody here, Hegar,” Anton said. He pointed. “No sentries.”

“Bah,” Hegar said. “They don’t need sentries with walls like that. Come on.”

Passing into the tunnel through the walls, they found only a single burning evertorch and a shut wooden door at the end. Hegar knocked, but didn’t wait, pushing it open and striding confidently into the camp.

“Fuck!” he swore almost immediately.

Brovose snorted, following him through, then looking around. Other than a large stack of firewood and some evertorches burning here and there, the camp was just as abandoned as he’d suspected.

“Told you,” Anton said.

“Shut up, I need to think,” Hegar said, sitting on the ground and rubbing at his temples. “I underestimated them, no, him. I knew he was pretending the moment I saw him, but I never thought he’d be this cunning...”

“Uh-huh,” Anton said skeptically. “Sure you did. Can we please just go kill things already? Your stamina must be fine by now.”

“In a minute!” Hegar snapped. He pinched the dirt in front of him, then rubbed it between his fingers, holding them up to his eyes. “They’re two steps ahead of us. They somehow found out about my spy and then captured her and moved their camp before I even realized. Just who is he?”

Brovose yawned, then dragged his hand over his mouth. That is the question, isn’t it? I do wonder. From the expensive armor and the level of mana I saw on him, he’s clearly a hybrid warrior-mage of some type. That Musk Wolf would have put his cap at eighteen, and if he chose Dynamo, that would explain the rapid growth and how he learned the language so quickly... Perhaps he’s a foreign noble? He’d need to be rich to afford armor like that. If so, what was he doing alone and unawakened in the forest?

“Ahh!” a sudden cry from the tunnel made Brovose look up. Anton had drawn his bow and was pointing it at a sword-wielding man with a torch who had just come through the tunnel.

“Who are you?” Hegar shouted, jumping to his feet. “Are you one of them?”

Brovose raised an eyebrow, checking the man with Mana Sight. He wasn’t wearing one of the white cloaks that would have marked him as a member of Ascension, nor was he a mage. That didn’t mean he wasn’t awakened, though, nor that he wasn’t dangerous. A powerful warrior could read as completely manaless, right up until they stabbed you through the heart.

“Please, don’t shoot me,” the man said, dropping his sword. “I’m with the militia.”

“What are you doing here, then?” Hegar asked angrily. “Hey! The rest of you! Come out here! Hands where I can see them.”

One by one, several more men and women filed into the camp, a few more bearing weapons, but most unarmed. Brovose relaxed slightly but didn’t stop focusing on his magic. It might be needed, yet—not to protect himself from the newcomers, but to protect the newcomers from Hegar and Anton.

“Please, C..Crimson Gar, Skinner, don’t hurt us,” said the first man, still staring at the tip of Anton’s drawn arrow. “We’re just here for the wood.”

“What?” Hegar snapped, glancing at the pile behind him. He turned back to the man. “Explain.”

“The mayor sent us to get it,” the man said, gesturing to the people standing behind him. “They’re just laborers, I swear.”

“Then why do you have a sword?” Hegar asked, drawing his own rapier and pointing it at the man.

Brovose rolled his eyes, deciding that this had gone on long enough. “There are monsters everywhere, Gar, of course he’s got a sword. Stop scaring the man before he wets himself.”

Anton snorted, then lowered his bow. “You’re no fun, Sleepy.”

Brovose ignored the misuse of his nickname. He hadn’t wanted to have one in the first place. He walked past Hegar, lightly pushing the tip of his sword out of the way. He placed himself between him and the laborers, then addressed their leader. “You said the Mayor sent you to collect this wood?”

The man nodded vigorously.

“Do you know where Ascension went?” Brovose asked.

“They went north, honored Sleeper,” the man said. “They should be at their new camp by now.”

“Where?” Anton asked coldly.

The man flinched. “By the crack, I heard.”

“WHAT?!” Hegar roared. “Those bastards are jumping our claim!”

“Looks like you were right, Gar,” Anton said, smiling, though the expression didn’t touch his eyes. “They are two steps ahead of us.”

Hegar slammed his rapier back into its scabbard with more force than was strictly necessary. “FUCK!”

Brovose tilted his head, frowning as he considered the invisible mage in the inn in a different light. Hmm. Could Hegar’s paranoia actually be warranted?