Sunscorch (Rise To Omniscience Book 8)

by Aaron Oster

  The reiki was pointing in a pretty straight path as far as he could tell, heading to a part of Faeland he’d never visited before. Still, despite thinking that he was probably right, he hesitated. What if he turned out to be wrong and ended up wasting what little time he had, trying to chase down a phantom lead that didn’t exist?

  He let out a sigh then, realizing that no matter what he did, there would always be an element of uncertainty. Right now, he couldn’t afford to be indecisive. Sarah was counting on him, and so were his friends. Not actually knowing if he was making a huge mistake or not, Morgan continued in the direction in which he’d been traveling, hoping against hope that he would eventually come across another high concentration area of reiki, marking the location of the second Well.

  Morgan continued traveling for several hours more, and as the day turned to night, he noticed some very distinct changes to the landscape below. The Glimmerlands seemed to be slowly fading, the shining trees vanishing in favor of dark gray trunks that were thin, tall, and twisted disturbingly. Black leaves clung to their branches, and the ground below was covered in what appeared to be several inches of water and muck.

  Suffice it to say that he didn’t land to sleep that night, continuing to travel onward. He flashed back to one of his conversations with Elyssa, in which she’d described the homeland of the trolls, the Brutal Bayou. He could see why most of the other races avoided this place, even if they were allies.

  It was a deeply terrifying and unwelcome place that sent chills down his spine. He felt uneasy the entire night, especially when he flew over small packs of semi-aquatic creatures covered in dark brown fur. They gave off a sense of danger that told him a fight with them would not be an easy one, and seeing as he was a rank 75 Advanced supermage, that was saying something!

  By the time the sun rose, Morgan was thankful. It was a strange feeling, as there was very little in this world that still actually scared him, and none of those things had anything to do with his personal safety.

  He wondered about that as he flew higher, getting away from the damp air of the endless swamp and into the fresher air higher up. It was only once he cleared the tree line that he noticed the thin blanket of fog that permeated the air. On a hunch, he opened his Aura Sense for just a moment and had his suspicions confirmed — there was something in the fog, which meant that his feeling of unease had been completely unnatural.

  This made him wonder what kind of race the trolls were that they could live in a place like this, a swamp filled with a mist that constantly kept people on edge. Once he crossed over the border and spotted his first town, though, he finally got his answer. The mists seemed to avoid the settlement, which, contrary to his belief, seemed to be thriving and not at all like the broken-down huts he’d believed they’d be living in.

  Morgan landed on the outskirts of the town, then pulled the hood of his cloak up. He knew he was taking a risk coming into this town, but he’d seen enough beastmen to know that as long as he kept his face hidden, he shouldn’t have too much trouble blending in. Although this was the trolls’ homeland, there were a few gnomes and dwarves wandering around, so he wouldn’t stand out too much.

  The mist was all around him now, so as he approached the town, exerting a minor bit of pressure to keep his boots from becoming soaked through, the feeling of unease began to grow again. However, as soon as he stepped up onto the wooden platform upon which the entire town was built, the mists vanished. When he turned to look back, he saw that they’d run up against an invisible barrier.

  It seemed that the trolls had a way to keep the mists out of their towns, although their security was quite lax. There were no walls to keep people out, and town guards were nowhere to be seen. No one gave him a second look as he began making his way through the streets, trying to find a tavern or place where people tended to congregate.

  He’d been following the same direction for hours already and wanted to ask around and see if anyone might know anything about the Wells. Of course, they’d think he was crazy, as the Wells were supposed to be a myth, but if he could get even a hint of where the legends claimed it might be, it would be extremely helpful.

  He was also quite hungry by this point, as he hadn’t eaten anything in days. Sure, he had no money, but the trolls were technically the enemy, so he didn’t feel too bad about stealing a loaf of bread or a bowl of stew. That was if the trolls even ate normal food. For all he knew, they ate worms. Still, as he made his way through the streets, Morgan thought that he might actually be too hungry to care. There had been a time when he’d eaten moldy bread and had been grateful for it, so a few worms might not be too bad.

  Allowing himself to be swept along with the crowd, Morgan soon found himself in the town square, and after a few more minutes, finally found what he’d been looking for — a crudely painted sign with a picture of a scantily clad troll woman – at least, he thought it was a woman – holding a barrel-sized mug of beer.

  Several trolls were congregated around the entrance, either smoking long tubes of some foul-smelling smoke or laughing uproariously. There were also several less savory characters hanging around the narrower alleyways, and Morgan decided that his best bet would probably be to head inside right away.

  Some of the trolls were starting to pay attention to him, and the last thing he wanted right now was to start a fight.

  20

  Having gotten used to being one of the tallest people around, it was an oddly humbling experience to walk into a room that felt so large. Trolls, on average, tended to be somewhere in the seven-foot range, if not a bit taller, leaving him nearly a foot shorter than just about everyone inside. The tables and chairs all seemed to be built for their proportions, though Morgan noticed that the bar area was lined with the regular stools.

  It wouldn’t matter if his feet didn’t quite reach the ground then, so he made his way over to the front, dodging between the larger trolls and reaching the bar without any trouble.

  “What can I do for ya?” asked the bartender, who appeared to be a middle-aged troll woman.

  “Just some water,” Morgan said. “Oh, and what do you have on the menu today?”

  The bar seemed to be set up in the same way as the ones from back home, so he assumed they would have a normal menu.

  “Bread and fantom-fish skewers,” the woman said, peering a bit closer at him.

  Morgan tugged at the corner of his hood a bit more and nodded.

  “Then I’ll take a serving of each,” he replied, trying to get the woman not to look any closer.

  She looked at him suspiciously for a moment, then asked, “Got money? I don’t serve strangers without being paid first.”

  “How much?” Morgan asked, realizing that he had no idea how the currency even worked here.

  “Six bits,” the woman said, daring him to challenge her.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan saw another troll pay for something. He saw the troll drop four copper pellets onto the counter, then stand up to leave. Hiding a smile, Morgan reached out with his Earthen Shift and began to feel for the patrons' money. He could have stolen everyone’s purses right from under their noses, which was a skill he’d have killed for back in City Four.

  Taking everyone’s money would have garnered too much attention, so Morgan opted for something a bit more discrete. Moving his hand beneath the counter, he pulled at a few of the nearby purses, drawing only a single bit from each and pulling them along the floor so they wouldn’t be spotted. After all, seeing a bunch of money floating through the air would be more than a little suspicious.

  “Yeah, just hold on a second,” he said, pretending to dig around for the money in his pockets.

  The troll woman stared at him as though she were sure he was wasting her time, but when he brought his hand up to the counter and deposited the six copper bits, she let out a grunt.

  “It’ll be out in five minutes,” she said, wiping the bits off the counter. “I’ll get your water for you now.”


  Morgan nodded, then leaned both of his elbows on the bar. This way, he could hide his face while listening in on the nearby chatter. At first, he didn’t pick up anything of interest, just groups of trolls talking about their days and complaining about mundane things like paying taxes and having to deal with their annoying employers.

  In fact, it was so mundane that Morgan began to realize that despite their appearances, these were just normal people. Sure, they looked a bit different, but if he were in a bar filled with humans, they’d probably be doing much the same.

  The mug of water was set down before him, and Morgan gave the troll a grateful nod before taking a sip. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he’d been until the water hit his tongue, but once it did, he drank deeper, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid trickling down his parched throat.

  “You hear any chatter about the war?”

  Morgan’s ears perked up when he heard the gruff voice from the table directly behind him, though he didn’t give any outward signs that he was listening. He’d initially come in here to see if he could find out anything about one of the Wells, but he wouldn’t complain about getting intel on the state of the war while he was looking.

  “Heard the Head Chief’s been planning something big,” another troll replied. “My cousin says there have been some recruiters in Spirit Town. Only a matter of time before they come here.”

  “To hell with the lot of them,” the first troll snorted. “If those bastards wanna go running off and attack some humans, they can leave us out of it. It’s hard enough, what with how much the Head Chief takes in taxes. We can barely keep the Fog-Repelling Scripts fed. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but just last week, they actually went down for a couple of minutes.”

  “Things must really be getting bad if we can’t even keep the Scripts running,” the seconds replied.

  “Oy, keep it down,” a third voice said. “I can see one of Big Yall’s cronies hanging around. Don’t wanna let him hear that we’re complaining.”

  Morgan was momentarily distracted as the troll woman dropped a plate with some bread and skewers of fish before him. It smelled incredible! It was nothing at all like the plate of worms he’d been picturing on his way here.

  Thankfully, the woman didn’t stick around after serving him, and Morgan was able to eat in peace while continuing to listen to the conversation behind him.

  “Why exactly are they starting this war again?”

  “I don’t know, though my cousin said that it had something to do with someone high up getting snuffed.”

  “Oh, come on. Your cousin isn’t exactly the most reliable source of information. Who would have been killed that they would want to go all the way to the human lands?”

  Morgan heard some shuffling as the troll leaned in closer, and his secretive nature got the other two to do the same.

  “Don’t go telling anyone that I told you this, but I heard that it was the elves’ queen.”

  Morgan’s back stiffened at that, remembering well Gold’s warning. He was fairly certain that Elyssa was still among the living, as he’d gotten her clear of the ambush in time, and if they’d made it back to the bunker, she would be safe. Still, hearing something like that made him feel uneasy.

  What if she’d been killed in the time he’d been gone?

  Sure, he’d only been away a few days, but a lot could have happened in that time.

  “When did your cousin come to visit?” another of the trolls asked. “I haven’t seen him around at all.”

  “He popped by on his way to Rainbarrel a couple of days back. He was only here for about an hour. Stopped by for some lunch. But believe it or not, that wasn’t the juiciest bit of information he had,” the troll said in a conspiratorial whisper.

  “Well, so long as you’re spouting all this nonsense, you may as well keep going,” another said, eliciting a laugh from the third.

  “Hey. Lenny might be a bit cracked in the head, but he works for Hover, second cousin twice removed of the servant of Limma, the Head Chief’s wife.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you’ve said about a hundred times,” the third troll said, slurping from his mug. “Go on. Out with it.”

  The troll telling the story let out a disgusted snort and sat back.

  “If you don’t want to know, I won’t tell you,” he said haughtily.

  “Come on, Zak, stop being like that,” the second troll said. “Just tell us! We promise we won’t laugh.”

  The first troll, Zak apparently, continued to refuse, playing it up and waiting until they were practically begging for him to talk before finally caving.

  “Alright, but I’m only telling you because you asked,” Zak said, the smug satisfaction clear in his voice. “I’m sure you’ve all heard about him by now, the devil human who infiltrated Faeland, right?”

  Morgan perked up at this because it was more than clear that they were talking about him.

  “You mean the one who was giving the beastmen and elves all that trouble?” the second troll asked.

  “That’s the one,” Zak said.

  “I heard he killed five elite regimens all by himself,” the third troll said, sounding fearful.

  “It was ten, actually,” Zak said, sounding very sure of himself.

  Morgan knew it was a complete lie, as he’d only come across two regimens and only fully wiped one of them out. Still, he wanted to hear what the other nations of Faeland thought of him and now was his chance.

  “So? What happened? Don’t keep us waiting again!” the second troll said.

  “He’s dead,” Zak said excitedly. “Supposedly, he was taken down by the elf queen when he went to kill her.”

  A hushed silence fell over the table, and Morgan felt an odd sensation come over him. Having Gold tell him that everyone thought he was dead was one thing. Hearing it from the lips of a complete stranger was another.

  “Maybe that’s the reason they’re willing to go to the human lands,” the third troll said. “It’s not like the Head Chief to give up a battlefield advantage.”

  “Yeah, I have to agree,” the second troll said. “That is, if you haven’t just fed us a load of cattle shit just to pass the time.”

  The table behind him went silent again, then Morgan heard one of them push back their chairs.

  “I’m going to get another round,” Zak said, and as he stomped over to the counter, Morgan saw an opportunity to spread the word about his search.

  “Three more, Eera,” Zak said, leaning against the counter next to him.

  The troll woman grunted, then moved to fill the tankards from a barrel behind them. There was no spout as Morgan would have expected, but instead, the woman merely dunked the mugs into the barrel to fill them.

  “Would you happen to know anything about the Well of Eternal Youth or the Well of Consciousness?” Morgan asked.

  He asked the question right as Zak was moving away from the counter. If he were guessing correctly, the idiot would go right ahead and start gossiping the second he got back to his table, and the word would spread.

  “Sure, I do,” the troll woman said. “You can find the three Wells of Eternity in the same place as the flying trollicorn, five race hybrid, and the endless well of beer.”

  “If you didn’t know anything, you could have just said so,” Morgan said sourly.

  The troll woman let out a snort, then moved away, muttering to herself. But when Zak sat back down at his table, Morgan had to suppress a grin. Someone like Zak would be physically incapable of running his mouth. All he had to do was sit here and wait.

  21

  It took longer than he’d thought for someone to finally approach him, which had been grating on his nerves. The whole subtlety thing had never really been his style. Morgan preferred to simply walk into a room and threaten severe bodily harm to anyone who didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. Doing that was so much easier than just sitting and waiting.

  Still, if he wanted to maintain his cover, declaring that he was sti
ll alive for all to see wouldn’t really help in that department.

  “I hear you’re looking for the three Wells of Eternity,” a troll dressed in a grimy set of robes said, leaning against the counter next to him.

  “And where might you have heard that?” Morgan asked, trying to be as unwelcoming as he could.

  “Where I get my information is my business. What you should be asking is how much you can pay to get the information you want.”

  Morgan didn’t bother looking over to the troll, merely taking another sip from his mug to make the man wait.

  “What makes you think I’m stupid enough to give some random stranger my money? For all I know, you’re just running a scam. Now, get lost before I get angry.”

  He had to hide a grin as the troll bristled in indignation. No one liked to be insulted, least of all these thuggish types who believed they ran the city. Morgan had run into plenty of these when he was growing up in City Four, and it was strangely exciting to be dealing with these types again.

  There was a small rustle of movement from beside him as the troll moved a bit closer, now very much taking on a threatening posture.

  “You’re not from around here, so you clearly don’t understand how things work in this town,” the man said, lowering his voice. “I work for Craig Bobfist, the most notorious crime boss in this part of the Brutal Bayou. Now, you can either hand over all your valuables, or I can take you out back and have my friends beat it out of you.”

  “Oh, no. Please don’t. Anything but that,” Morgan said sarcastically.

  “You think I’m joking?” the troll growled, moving a bit closer.

  “No. I don’t think you’re joking. But you are a joke,” Morgan said with a snort.

  There was another rustle of movement, and Morgan caught the gleam of a dagger before he felt it being pressed into his side.

  “You’re going to come with me, or —”

  “Or what?” Morgan asked. “You’ll stab me in the middle of a crowded bar where everyone can see you?”