Book 2: Chapter 13: Juggling Spirits

Book 2: Chapter 13: Juggling Spirits

“You’re saying all I need to do is ride for a day to the west?” Tellen asked Victor in the sober light of morning, contemplating the strange cylinder on the mat between them.

“Yes, the way I see it, Belikot saw to it that I learned about this phylactery and then trusted my bull-headed nature to charge after him with it. He’s set up somewhere south of here, probably a strategic location for him, and he knows I’m drawing near because, let’s be honest, it’s obvious that he would be able to sense his phylactery.”

“Not a day’s ride to the south lie the remains of Gel Harra—a crossroads town killed by a plague during the Steppe War.” Tellen frowned. “What will it accomplish for me to lead this death sorcerer away?”

“Well, so far, I’ve been running directly toward him. When he sees the phylactery continue away, toward Gelica, he’ll begin to have doubts: was I coming toward him all this time, or just heading to Gelica? Was I unable to follow the phylactery’s tether to him, after all? Am I going to the city to sell it or have it evaluated? Would he want to risk someone who knew what to do with it getting their hands on it? These thoughts will torment him, forcing him to give chase.”

“And why can’t you just carry it toward Gelica?”

“Well, that’s the second part of the trick. Belikot will be ready for action as he nears the phylactery, but if I’m lying in wait somewhere between the phylactery and him, I can get the element of surprise. Maybe disable him without harming my friend’s body.”

“How will you do so?”

“That’s a good question. I have some collars that the mine uses to control people, but I don’t have a control rod. Honestly, I’d hate to use them, anyway—bad memories. Do your people have a way to disable strong Energy users?”

“It depends on their strength and their will. Some sedatives would work if you could manage to apply them.”

“Her body hasn’t had any racial improvements, and I’m pretty sure Belikot is less than tier three. He’d have gotten his own phylactery out of that dungeon if he were powerful enough. No, I’m sure I can beat him. I just don’t want to hurt my friend in the process. If you have a strong sedative, I’ll try to disable him temporarily and then force it down his throat.”

“Mmhmm, and how will I know you’ve finished your task?”

“I’ll come here and have one of your hunters ride to get you. Also, if someone approaches and it's not me or one of your hunters, you should haul ass away. That’s why I want you to hold the phylactery, and I’m not just planting it somewhere—in case he tricks me and gets around my ambush.”

“Yes ... ‘haul ass!’” Tellen laughed. “So. I understand your plan, but why would I put my people at risk helping you with this problem?”

“I mean, do you think it’s good to have this pendejo wandering around?”

“It seems this wizard, evil though he may be, has other things to preoccupy him than bothering my people.” Tellen shrugged, lifting his steaming tea to his lips. Victor copied him and took a sip of the pungent, bitter brew.

“Okay, then I could give you something. How about this?” Victor took out the spearhead he’d looted from the guts of the giant tentacle-slug back in the depths. “I’ve seen a lot of your people using spears. This was looted from a very powerful monster.” He held out the spearhead, glinting in the morning light. Tellen took it and examed all of its angles.

“A valuable weapon.” He nodded, looking satisfied. “This is good payment for a day or two of riding. Should you fail, and should this death caster come my way, I will try to evade him, but if things look hopeless, I will throw this phylactery away and leave him to his own devices.” He nodded to the heavy cylinder and its cold, sinister aura.

“That’s enough for me. Thank you, Ban-tok.”

“You’re welcome, warrior.” Tellen held out a hand, and Victor took it, returning the firm but warm grip.

“Can we start soon? I fear for my friend’s mind with each minute that passes.”

“We can start now. Go to the road, Victor, and I’ll talk to my people. When I’m ready, I’ll come gather the phylactery from you.” Tellen stood and held a hand out to help Victor to his feet.

“Thanks. Alright, then. See you in a few minutes.” Victor turned and started walking across the half-mile or so of grassland toward the brown ribbon of the roadway. He’d only gone a few paces past the last tent when he heard footsteps running toward him. He turned to the sound and saw Chandri jogging his way. She smiled as she drew near, offering a short wave.

“Victor! Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta help a friend. Nice camp, though,” he said, gesturing to the tents and campfires arrayed behind her.

“Well, thanks for stopping; it gave us something to talk about last night.” She fell into step with him, and they continued toward the road.

“Sure. You don’t get a lot of visitors?”

“No, most of the trade wagons or caravans that come through this way want nothing to do with us.”

“Afraid you’re bandits?” Victor guessed.

“How’d you know?” She scowled at him, but he saw she was teasing as her black-stained lips turned up in a grin.

“Hah, well, to be honest, I used to be a pit fighter—not by choice—and there was a girl in my cell from a Shadeni tribe; she said her people got caught raiding a village.”

“Yes, some clans practice the old ways, though it's perilous to do so close to the cities of the empire. We’re happy to hunt, and if we need to raid, there are lands not far away which aren’t part of Ridonne.” That caught Victor by surprise. So just because they were ostensibly hunters, these people weren’t ashamed to admit raiding outside the empire.

“Old ways? So it’s a tradition?”

“Our people existed for millennia as nomads—hunters and raiders. When we were forced into this world with so many other races, some clans settled, others found different ways to fit in, and still others refuse to bend, though their numbers grow scarce. What about you, Victor? Where are your people?”

“My people aren’t in this world. I was transported here by magic—summoned before I had the strength to resist.”

“That’s ... hard.” She reached up a hand to squeeze his shoulder. “I’d be lost without my clan. I hope you can find people here, Victor, or a way to your home.”

“Thanks, Chandri. Yeah, I try not to think about my family because it brings me down. I’ve met some good people here, though, and I have plans to help some of them that need it.”

“That’s good, Victor. We could all sense your strength. I’m glad that you’re a friend to our clan. The Ban-tok asked me to give you a gift, even though he said he was coming to help you with a task. Perhaps he didn’t want it to seem part of any bargain you made with him,” she said, holding up a large, bulbous brown bottle with a wax-sealed cork. Victor assumed she’d had it in a storage device because her hands had been empty up to that moment.

“What’s this?” he asked, taking the heavy bottle, though he had a good idea of its contents.

“Cheb-cheb! It’s from the Ban-tok’s personal supply—I think it’s a valuable bottle!” They’d just reached the dirt road when Victor put the bottle into his ring and turned to face Chandri.

“That’s awesome! Thanks again; I wish I had something good to give as a gift, but I’ve been living off really bad travel rations and watery wine for the last month or so.”

“A gift requires no payment, Victor. Perhaps you’ll bring something next time you pass through,” she said, smiling. Looking at her face without the distraction of walking, Victor noticed that she had tiny, black tattoos of animals and arrows at the backs of her cheeks, running down her jawline, neck, and back along her hairline.

“What do your tattoos mean, Chandri?”

“The animals are from hunts I’ve participated in, and the arrows are for kills.” Victor noticed she didn’t mention if the kills referred to animals or people.

“Right, cool.” Victor glanced toward the camp and saw that Tellen had started toward them, walking with his roladii following behind on a leather lead.

“Yes, but I might need help dealing with her. There’s an evil spirit inside her. I, um, I didn’t plan this far ahead.”

“A spirit? Come, let’s see Oynalla—she’s our Spirit Caster.”

“Oh, you guys have a spirit caster?”

“Of course,” the man snorted and turned to walk toward the camp. He waved his hand into the shadows, and Victor figured he was signaling other watchers. They’d only gone a few steps when he heard the sound of a roladii running away toward the road.

“That the rider going to get Tellen?”

“Aye.” The man wasn't talkative, and he silently led Victor into the camp and past several tents before stopping before a small, blue canvas one with an eye painted on the flap in yellow dye. “Oynalla,” he called, though not loudly.

“Send them in,” a dry, rough woman’s voice replied. The man shrugged and gestured to the flap. Victor nodded and pulled it aside, ducking through the opening, carefully squatting low enough to get Thayla through. The tent was small, maybe ten feet across, and he immediately faced a woman sitting on piled furs. She nodded to the hides to her left, and Victor carefully lifted Thayla from his shoulder and laid her down. “And you too, warrior. Sit before me.”

The tent smelled of incense and spices, and Victor saw a small pot bubbling on a brass stove, seemingly powered by Energy. When he sat in front of her, Victor still towered over the woman, driving home just how small she was. She had braided gray hair, and her red skin was folded with hundreds of wrinkles and marked by dozens of old, faded tattoos. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course! I felt you coming all the way from the road. Such a strong spirit Core. I’m not sure what you want from me—I can’t match your strength.”

“Oh, um, it’s my friend, she...”

“Oh, this one with the death Core? What can I do for one such as this?”

“She’s not in there. She’s in this skull.” Victor untied Thayla’s skull and set it on the fur in front of him. “A spirit that had been in this skull switched places with her.”

“Oh! Aha! Yes, now I feel her in there—so very weak! So, you need to push him out of her and let her go back in! You have more than enough strength for the task, but I can guide you.”

“Really? There’s not some ritual or spell I need?” Victor studied the old woman, wondering what her role in the hunter community was. What attunements did she have?

“No. This is a matter of will. Your friend was displaced because she came into contact with the skull and the spirit’s will was stronger than hers. You’ll have to aid her. Give her some strength, and then push against this invading spirit. Drive it forth so that she can move back in.”

“What about his phylactery? I was under the impression I’d need it to force him to leave.”

“Oh, a phylactery, hmm? Well, that’s neither here nor there. Indeed the spirit will want it, and perhaps you could use it as leverage, but this can be done without it. I’d caution you not to let the spirit gain control of the phylactery when you’re done.”

“Right. Okay, where do I begin?”

“Begin by giving me a gift!” the old woman cackled, and Victor couldn’t tell if she was joking or just a touch insane. He decided not to risk offending her, so he reached into his ring and looked through his treasure. He found a particularly lovely red gemstone and took it out, holding it in his palm toward the woman. “Oh? A ruby for me? Good boy!” She snatched it, and it was gone in a flash. “Now! Wake up your friend and give her some Energy!”

“Alright,” Victor said. He put his hand on the skull and channeled some inspiration-attuned Energy into it, much more than he had given Thayla before.

“Victor! Thank you! That feels wonderful,” Thayla said in his head. “Where are we? How are things going? Did you find the phylactery?”

“Yeah, Thayla. Not only that, but I got your body. We’re going to get you back into it now. Are you ready to fight for it?”

“Yes! What do I need to do, Victor?”

“Just wait, and I’ll give you instructions. This woman, Oynalla, is helping.” Victor pointed the skull’s eyes at Oynalla, and the older woman cackled again.

“I’m ready, Victor! Just tell me what to do,” Thayla said again, her voice earnest and excited.

“She’s ready,” Victor said to Oynalla.

“Good! You’ll be the bridge, Victor. You’re Core and pathways are used to channeling spirit Energy, yes?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

“Good! So, to protect your friend’s spirit from the malignant spirit in her body, you’ll pull her from the skull to rest in your pathways. Then, you can pull the other spirit out and push it into the skull. Be sure to keep them apart in your pathways.”

“You want me to take them into me?” Victor’s eyes had grown wide, and his voice strained.

“Oh, come, boy. You’ve got a powerful will, or you wouldn’t have such a brilliant Core of spirit Energy. Show that death caster what a spirit caster can do!”

“Alright, hold on.” Victor straightened his back, took a few steadying breaths, and cast Heroic Heart. He wasn’t sure he shouldn’t go with Inspiring Presence, but he wanted the confidence and resilience of courage-attuned Energy coursing through him at that moment. As the hot, red-gold Energy flooded out of his chest into the rest of him, a smile spread on his lips, and the old woman cackled, watching him.

“That’s it, boy! That death trickster will flee before you!” The woman’s words bolstered his confidence even more, and Victor slapped his palm on the skull, reaching out with his senses for the spirit within. When he felt the cool tickle of Thayla’s spirit, he suddenly could smell her and feel her like she was in the room with him.

“Come on, mija; come with me. I’ll keep him off you,” he said aloud.

“Victor?” Thayla said in his mind.

“Trust me. Come out of the skull; I have to hold onto you for a minute.” He tugged at the Energy of Thayla’s spirit again, and he felt her let go and start to flow into his pathway. He smiled and stopped pulling at her when she was resting in the pathways of his right hand. There was more than enough space for her. The old woman had been right about that—the amount of Energy he could channel dwarfed Thayla’s little signature. Victor smiled and opened his eyes, looking at Oynalla. “Got her.”

“Good! The skull is a vessel designed to hold a spirit. Pull the one from your friend’s body and put it in there. He’ll resist, but you’re stronger, aren’t you?”

“Damn right,” Victor said, resting his left hand on Thayla’s breastbone and reaching forth with his mind. With red-gold courage flowing through his pathways, Victor reached out, feeling for some sort of spirit Energy in Thayla’s body. He immediately felt her pathways, small and narrow compared to his, and, lurking like a miasmic fog, he felt the cold, slippery presence of Belikot. “Come out, fucker!” he growled and latched onto him with his will, tugging him toward the bridge between his hand and Thayla’s chest.

“Fool! I knew I should have dropped feeders down after you!”

“Quiet!” Victor growled and pulled, ripping the spirit toward him. Thayla’s body was utterly motionless, still under the soporific effects of the potion. Belikot railed and screamed in Victor’s mind, but it was ineffectual, and Victor relentlessly pulled. When the first part of the cold, slippery Energy entered Victor’s pathways, he cringed, feeling like he’d just stuck his hand into a latrine, but he doggedly kept on, pulling and tugging, until every last scrap of the spirit was resting in his left arm.

When he’d finished the extraction, he felt Belikot make a mad rush along his pathway, trying to charge into his mind, and Victor laughed. With Heroic Heart active and his will at nearly two hundred, Victor yanked the spirit back down to his hand and held it pinned there, pressing it into a ball and squeezing with all his might. The spirit thrashed and quailed, and, remembering all the problems Belikot had caused and the hell he’d put Thayla through, Victor relished in its throes.

“Careful, Spirit Warrior!” the old woman suddenly said. “Don’t destroy the spirit within yourself unless you want to absorb some aspects of it.” Oynalla’s words brought Victor back to himself, and he stopped crushing Belkot’s spirit. The last thing he wanted was to absorb some element of this asshole. Sighing heavily, he put his hand on the skull and pushed Belikot into its artificial pathways. As soon as the eyes flared with blue flames, Victor snatched the skull into his dimensional ring.

Oynalla cackled again, “Oh child! So cruel! Existence in a dimensional container will drive any spirit mad!”

“Good. Fuck that guy,” Victor said, then he put his other hand on Thayla’s chest and gently nudged her spirit out and into her body, pushing her forth and urging her toward the place where he instinctively knew her spirit should dwell, up the pathway deep into her skull. Thayla’s breathing quickened momentarily, then steadied. Her face relaxed, and Victor knew she was where she was supposed to be—now he just had to wait for her to wake up.