by Tom Hansen
He readied a large Spirit Shock, but instead of casting it directly at one of the ghosts, he cast it into the space between a handful of them at the beginning. It hit, and they turned red. Success!
He immediately followed up with as large and powerful a tendrils spell as he could imagine, summoned again right in the middle of the mass of ghostly bodies.
It grabbed half a dozen of them, rooting them in place, leaving the rest of the mass behind.
He had a couple of meters of space left and tried to pour more nonexistent energy into running faster.
With the mass of ghosts smaller, they seemed to slow down a little bit.
He turned down another corner and saw it, the rope ladder!
He was close, but the turn had allowed the mass to gain more ground, and one reached out and swiped his tail, another at his hind leg, shooting pain up his haunches and making him nearly topple over from the sudden shock.
He released another Spirit Shock, followed by another Tendrils, and made for a pile of Tau’raj bones. Using them as a step stool, he said a silent prayer for forgiveness and he used their discarded lives to help gain elevation. He leapt for the slime-covered rope ladder, changing forms as he reached for a wrung.
He clung on for dear life as the mass of ghosts pooled around the base, jumping and leaping for him.
His heart thundered in his chest and his breathing was erratic and labored as he watched them, realizing that after all that, he was safe.
Chapter 26
“You’re welcome, by the way.” Scarhoof dropped the satchel containing the gloworb and the waterskin onto the floor in the middle of the Shaman Trainer’s home.
Without waiting for a response, he trudged into the back, his leg burning with a still-open wound. He reached the pool room and grabbed a bucket that hung on the wall, dunked it into the water and watched as it filled up.
For a moment, Scarhoof contemplated dunking his head in, but he chose instead to plop down on the floor and tip up the bucket to drink. He polished off half of the bucket before upending the rest over his head.
The cold water was a welcome respite to his burning muscles.
He could have healed himself on the way back to the hut under the hill; he could have even walked slowly there, or taken a break, but he hadn’t. As soon as he had finished climbing out of the crag and seen that the trainer was nowhere to be found, he went back into Fourhoof and sprinted all the way back.
He refused to heal himself as a reminder of just how close he’d come. Fatigue and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him, and the pain kept him awake.
He sat there on the floor, dripping wet, his thoughts swirling about him. Part of him wanted to be angry about the quest, but he’d lived too long, and he knew the methods used on young hot-heads in the military to keep them in-line. He was older, and he hoped he was wiser for his age, because if he hadn’t grown, then it had all been a waste.
Still, he was irritated, and he wasn’t sure why.
“You need more water?”
Hillbender stood in the doorway, a concerned and bemused look on his face.
“I was thinking about swimming in it.”
Hillbender chuckled, taking a step in and grabbing the bucket off the ground. He paused, then cast a powerful healing spell on Scarhoof that not only healed his wounds, but fully restored his stamina and cleared his mind of the fog.
“If that’s the case, then follow me, I have just the thing for you.”
The thing turned out to be another pool, off a side door in the basement sparring room. Situated behind a pillar near the two training dummies, Scarhoof probably would have never noticed it unless he’d been wandering around the place for a while.
It was another cistern, but it was a lot smaller, built for one.
“I call it an isolation chamber. It helps me think.”
Scarhoof stripped down to nothing and climbed into the large tub. The water was colder than he expected, but his core temperature was still far too high, and he quickly relished the chilliness of the water.
He was strangely buoyant, which Hillbender explained was due to the addition of salt, which kept the water from going stagnant.
“Now, I want you to tell me everything before I open up this bag.”
Scarhoof shot him a wry smile. “How about I start with you dating Eldermother?”
If Hillbender was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, his eyes misted slightly like he was looking back through memories. “Did you see how fertile the land is here? As long as you can work around the erratic flooding schedule it’s a fantastic farming location. I often wondered why a tribe never settled here.”
He pulled a small necklace from under his robe and fingered the wooden trinket that hung at the end. “She was always unique, that heifer. Never stayed tied down. I was the one that wanted to settle in one location. Despite how much I loved this land, it’s never been my home, my location. That has eluded me much of my life. Responsibility has a way of preventing you to be with the one you love, but I do hope that someday, I can spend my remaining breaths with her.”
Hillbender took a lung full of air, letting it out in a measured sigh. “So you know about Nitene then?”
Scarhoof, floating in the water, nodded slightly.
“How is she?”
Scarhoof didn’t quite know how to answer that.
Hillbender smiled. “It’s okay, I already know about you two.”
A childhood nervousness suddenly wracked Scarhoof’s mind. The sheer terror of meeting the father was one of the worst things about dating heifers. Old bulls loved to torture their daughter’s potential mates mercilessly, but this time it didn’t seem that bad.
Hillbender stood and chuckled, pacing around the small room. “She’s a grown cow you know, I’ve never really been part of her life anyway. Sure, she came to live with me a few times, but we never really got along. She blamed me for us not being a family, but I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“It was her mother, Anknoa. They’re too much alike. I will give you that warning. Despite their constant bickering, they are so much alike it’s almost creepy.”
He stopped pacing and looked at Scarhoof. “Enough small talk, though, I need to know what happened in the crag, because how you handled it will go to telling me what sort of Shaman you will become.”
Scarhoof told him everything, Hillbender insisting on every detail. The telling went long into the night and Scarhoof and he continued while cooking a meal, eating it, and cleaning up.
It was early the next morning by the time he finished, and Hillbender sent him to rest. He awoke a scant few hours later to watch the sun rise in the east. Despite being up most of the night, he felt refreshed and renewed.
Quest Complete! Mudder’s Milk:
You survived the Beast and obtained Mother's Milk. You learned something about yourself as well as the world around you. Heed the lessons well. (Gained 700 XP!)
Level Up! You are now Level Seven!
+100 Health. +100 Stamina. +100 Mana. +1 Talent Point (Note: Talents will not be unlocked until Level 10). XP Needed for next level: 800.
He wondered if he would ever get used to the euphoric rush that enveloped his body each time he leveled up. Shudders like aftershocks rippled through his spine, sending a mixture of hot and cold feelings into his extremities.
He supposed he might as well get up, as Hillbender must have come to a conclusion after hearing his story.
Sure enough, Hillbender sat in the front room in the center of the floor.
“I’m afraid I have no answer for you.”
Scarhoof was confused. “But the quest…”
Hillbender nodded. “I know, but that was the answer. No answer is sometimes valid. Sometimes we have to learn to wait patiently. Spiritmother refused my call, refused to discuss with me about your progression. To me that means something, as it should to you as well.”
Scarhoof nodded. She had been rather cryptic in her messages to
him, telling him to come seek her. He conveyed this information to his trainer, who nodded with a knowing smile.
“Ahh yes, she’s toying with you, isn’t she? But she doesn’t lie. She has plans for you. For now, I think it best that you leave, learn more about the shards, and come back when you have leveled up again. Level eight is a fun one, perhaps She is waiting until then.” He said the last bit with a sparkle in his eye.
Scarhoof gathered up his supplies, satchel, and bo, strapping everything back on.
“Before you go, I’d suggest heading east before going back to Whistling Pass.”
“Why?”
Hillbender gave him a wry smile. “You may find a quest that way, but be careful, Nagos armies are amassing on the eastern shore, and you’re not very far from their camps here, I’d suggest making a trip out there to observe. The Chieftain probably needs to know about their movements.”
Scarhoof took a quick glance at his quest log, remembering that Bloodhorn had mentioned he was awaiting some scouts to return from the eastern coast. The twinkle in Hillbender’s eye was too much to ignore though. He knew something and wanted Scarhoof to go east to find out. A secret quest, perhaps?
“Very well, thank you, guru. I shall return later when I’ve grown again in skill.”
They bowed to one another and Scarhoof took his leave as the morning sun lit up the sky.
This far north in the Eternal Plains, the runoff from the Tau’moor gave this area a much more diverse plant life than the rest of the desolate Plains.
In fact, as he continued to head east, he found himself in a bit of a forest. The ground beginning to slope up toward the Hem.
In the distance, the sun glinted off the expanse of the eastern ocean, the burning orange orb blinded him from time to time as the waves ebbed and flowed. Despite the Eternal Plains being largely flat, there were plenty of variations in the land, and one of them prevented Scarhoof from being able to see the shoreline.
He knew that one of two passes from the Plains to the north was here, but this was the more treacherous of the two. To the south, the land sloped up slightly and then down toward the eastern coast, but up this high it formed a cliff face, separating the northern passage from the beach.
He remembered exercises on the beach and setting up defenses as a young soldier. The war with the Nagos had only begun and the Tau’raj held most of their own land.
Things had changed a lot since then. The Nagos now held the shore and had for over a decade.
He was too far away to hear the lapping of the waves against the shore. That would require a few more hour’s journey, but he also didn’t want to get too close lest a scouting party catch sight of him.
He had Pace Yantra active, something he was becoming more and more used to. He found he had to turn it off while inside Hillbender’s home, as the extra speed made him bump into walls and doors when his body arrived sooner than his mind expected him to.
But here, out in the open, with only thin trees to dodge around, he found himself falling into a comfortable rhythm of movement.
The trunks of the trees all around him were white with broad, variegated purple leaves. He’d seen this type of tree before. It would grow in the Plains, but only where there was a lot of water available. It was usually relegated to the more wealthy homes or the public square. They called them blood trees, from the blood-red leaves that dropped in the fall.
Ever since Hillbender had healed him in the water room, his limp leg had felt better, too. It could just be his mind, but he expected it to be sorer after the intense and lengthy sprint through the crag just a number of hours previously.
He thought about the ghosts, and some of the phrases they said. They all sounded so ominous, but also familiar. Like they were plucked right out of his unconscious memory.
It was uncanny, but maybe it was just his mind playing games with him. Perhaps the beast of the crag had access to his mind, or maybe it was all an elaborate test by Spiritmother, who gazed down upon her children with a compassionate but firm hand.
She knew what was best, even if it was difficult to understand why. Struggle was a way of life and She was not afraid of allowing her children to struggle if it made them stronger.
In the distance, twigs snapped, and leaves rustled in a unnatural way. He stopped, crouching behind the trunk of a nearby tree to listen.
More movement. At first, he thought it could be an animal, but then he heard the distinctive creak of metal, followed by voices.
“Get on with it!”
The voice was quiet, due to its proximity, but it was also distinctly Nagos, with its snake-like lisp over the word ‘with’.
Scarhoof’s hide crawled. He grabbed his bo, gently sliding it from its holster, and gripped it tight to his chest as he continued to listen.
The rustle of movement receded into the distance, and Scarhoof followed, sneaking through the fallen leaves. He suddenly wished for a silence Yantra, though the 10% boost allowed him to keep up with his prey while being more careful.
He was following two Nagos Scouts, each level six. He debated tossing Tendrils at one and going at the other with Spirit Shock, but it was too risky.
Hillbender’s admonition to gather fresh data on troop movements to Whistling Pass echoed in his mind, and he kept his distance, observing.
The forest grew thicker before it began to thin. After a while he took to following their exact path, something that was much more worn than he expected. The path wasn’t just for one or two troops, the telltale damage of heavy machinery was prevalent on the larger trees, and enough foliage had been felled to allow the passage of something big.
The size of the path disturbed him. There was nothing up in this area, right? Even if thousands of troops had been brought through, they wouldn’t have needed this large of a swath of trees removed. No, something big was going on, and he needed to find out what.
He would have to thank Hillbender for the tip.
Before too long, the forest was thick enough that he found himself encroaching too quickly. They didn’t seem to be in a hurry, and he could hear their huffing pants as they trudged up the steep slope. For a race that was used to the water, the Nagos didn’t seem to fare quite as well on land, one of the main reasons the Tau’raj had been able to keep their attacks at bay.
“Hoy!”
“Hoy, Nagos!”
The guards called out to others that Scarhoof couldn’t quite make out. He moved in closer, grateful for the lush underbrush.
A thicket of berry bushes hid him well and allowed him to get in close.
The two guards strode up to three more level six Nagos. Even with Tendrils and his newly learned Yantras, he knew he couldn’t take on all five.
“Took you long enough to get here.”
“Yeah, well the slope is a lot to go up. Maybe you should try slithering up here five minutes before your shift is supposed to end.”
“You brought the cuffs?”
“Yeah, we brought them. Chahyat, you have them in your bag?”
“Yeah, one sec, lemme get it off my back. So, where’d we find these two?”
“Found em sneaking round the quarry, boss wants them taken down to the ship for a little discussion.”
The Nagos got a chuckle over the inflection of the last word, but Scarhoof’s stomach tightened.
He dared a glance over the brambles and noticed all five Nagos were looking down into the center of the circle that they formed.
They were guarding something or someone.
Quietly, he moved closer to the group, still hidden by two trees. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and he struggled to maintain his breathing as he crept forward through the forest. Finally, he caught a stolen glance.
Something brown and something green sat on the ground. One at least three times larger than the other. His heart sank, seeing the tips of the broken horns just waist-level to one of the Nagos.
One of our own. He remembered the Chieftain’s insistence that he ha
d sent scouts out days ago and they hadn’t returned. Perhaps this was the party?
Knowing where to look now, he chanced another glance. Sure enough, he noticed the other figure on the ground. It was a Goblin.
Barely reaching to the waist of the taller Tau’raj, Goblins were recent allies in the Nagos war. They sold food and ammunition for the blunderbusses that were all the rage in the last few years, but he’d never known them to send troops.
Their elongated faces and thick ears were very distinct, making them look somewhat similar to Kobolds. It was said that the Goblin race came about from a Litlin and a Kobold producing offspring, but Scarhoof didn’t think that was the case.
They were a unique race, small, but clever.
“Well, let’s get you down to the boss. He’s going to have a fun time with you.”
“I’ll go first.” The voice was the Tau’raj, male, and Scarhoof couldn’t help but look. He needed to know who it was.
Luckily, all five Nagos guards were focused on their two prisoners, and none of them looked into the forest to notice him.
The Tau’raj was a smaller male, not as large as Scarhoof. He was wiry with long, skinny limbs. His coat was patchworked, with a number of shades of brown. Both white horns had been broken off at their roots but would grow back.
Quest Available! The Missing Scouts:
A few days ago, Chieftain Bloodhorn sent out scouts to follow the Nagos' movement, could these be them? Help them!
“I’m sorry, Strivug.” The Tau’raj spoke, addressing the Goblin still sitting on the ground as he was wrenched to his hooves by the guards.
Once the Tau’raj was up, they bent down to do the same to the smaller Goblin.
“Yea, well maybe I should just leave you to suffer without me!” The Goblin kicked the Tau’raj in the shin, sending up a mass of leaves into the air.
“Oof!” The Tau’raj yelled. “You little green bastard! Get over here!” The Tau’raj squirmed against his captors, four of them holding him back from attacking the other captive.