Lightfoot

by Joe Kuster

  Despite the strange shadow wrapped around the animal, its fur felt completely normal and quite soft to the touch. He’d been around magicians with familiars, although most were just mundane animals that a spirit inhabited. Rather than start with a body, this cat had been summoned fully, which meant she was really a living spell guided by a more powerful spirit or demon that had agreed to serve in exchange for time on a middle plane.

  He’d never had a cat, but frankly, he was quite glad he hadn’t been saddled with another Gus. Everyone tended to think squirrels were cute, right up until one of them got smart enough to reveal how much of an asshole it was.

  Most familiars were a bit like a pet that could run errands, although what tasks they were able to help with depended entirely on the type of animal they were. While familiars always seemed to be smarter than others of their kind, they tended to be limited by their mindset.

  Dogs were great at fetching things, could track enemies, or even fight, but tended to get distracted easily. Birds could repeat spoken messages and scout from the skies, but most weren’t exactly stunning academics. If a building had a glass window, they’d conk themselves into it a dozen times until someone let them in. He didn’t know what a cat’s mentality might mean long term, but it seemed he’d get a chance to find out.

  He mentally poked at the magic between him and the cat and found that, much like Rachel, his familiar had a magical core. He looked inward and found a small amount of his magic had returned after his rest.

  He pushed on the link to check on Rachel but found her healthy. He could also sense that she was only a few hundred feet away, probably scouting on the other side of the constriction.

  Tapping into the cat’s essence, as well as his own, he took his time to carefully plot out what was most urgent. He then set about healing his wounds. He’d lost a lot of blood in the tussle, and several of the bandages had already soaked through.

  Leaving some magic to spare just in case they got jumped on the way, he sighed with relief and was momentarily content to stare at the ceiling. It was only ten feet high in this spot, and the white quartz deposits glinted and sparkled as he shifted his head. It had streaks of various shades and was rather pretty to look at.

  He couldn’t see color with the same accuracy in low light, but the streaks in the rock seemed to spark a long-dormant memory. He’d seen this type of rock before. It was what the dwarves excitedly hauled around in wheelbarrows.

  He remembered this one being glittery when they’d worked it. They’d used smelly chemicals and heat, but it had resulted in yellow flakes that he’d liked to play with as a child. His father had put them into some of the clear alcohol he made for the dwarves, and they’d made a big deal about it. They’d told a lot of outhouse jokes about it that made his mother angry.

  He smacked his head as he realized what he was probably looking at.

  “Uh, cat, I need to get up,” he said.

  No.

  Cozy.

  Chuckling, he picked up the small cat and stood. He then rested it atop his shoulders. It didn’t hesitate to wrap around his neck and settle into his armor’s neck guard.

  “That work?”

  Acceptable.

  He began preparing a torch. It was little more than a short stick wrapped in char cloth, a ball of loose cotton, and pitch that had been packed in flour to keep it from making a sticky mess in his bag.

  He pulled a tuft of white fibers loose. Slipping his firesteel around his first two fingers, he pulled out the finger-sized agate that had come with his newly purchased firestarter kit. With a few practice swings, he managed to get some sparks in the right area. It took a bit of persistence, but he eventually got a glowing ember he could work with. Gently blowing on it, he had the torch giving off a soft yellow glow in moments.

  As he’d hoped, there were yellow streaks amid the quartz. There was also blueish-green stuff that looked a bit like bread mold, and silver streaks could have been any number of other metals.

  He wasn’t sure about the other stuff, but everyone had made such a big deal about his gold that even if the ore yielded a small amount, it might be worth the effort. He searched the ground until he found a fist-sized rock with the curious colorations, then dropped it in his pocket.

  He then turned back to the treasure trove. He spent a while merely sorting out the trash. Once that was done, he made two more piles, one for must keep, and another collection of maybes. In the end, his pack had filled relatively quickly. Finding another backpack, he packed that one full as well. Quickly he realized that it was far too much for him to carry back in one trip, or even four.

  As he rummaged around, he found a bronze lockbox. Using a bit of magic, he was able to break off the hinges. Inside he found a single parchment. It had a magical haze around it that TJ assumed was a preservation spell as it looked as if it had been prepared earlier that day, despite the heavy corrosion on the box.

  Carefully opening it, he puzzled over the flowery lettering, then realized he was holding it upside down.

  Deed of Ownership: Acrine Cliffs and surrounding forest.

  For service to the kingdom, King Gilmore III does recognize and entitle Derk, leader of Clan Blatbat, ownership of the Acrine Cliffs. Derk’s heroic deeds in saving our liege shall never be forgotten.

  The letter continued, detailing the exact location bequeathed to the goblin tribe.

  “Serina?” TJ whispered. “What the ever-living shit did you just have me do? Did… did you just have me murder a peaceful tribe?”

  There was a soft pressure on his thoughts as Serina reached out over their bond. The force of it caused his mind to waver, and he found he had to sit down to avoid falling over.

  Yes and no. Derk’s offspring technically inherited the lands, but they have strayed far from his teachings. They killed anyone who trespassed, but didn’t go looking for trouble. Their god wasn’t pleased about their clan’s attempt at peace. I made that decision for you. Let this be my burden.

  Not feeling happy about that answer, he whispered, “Damn it, don’t… don’t be like the others. Please don’t do that to me.”

  I did what I needed to do to keep you alive. I’ve gotta go. The anchor is new, and this is straining it.

  Silence reigned as TJ rubbed at his eyes. If he understood the situation correctly, this tribe was never going to attack the nearby human settlements. At the same time, they also wouldn’t have given him the spell necessary to summon a familiar, which meant he’d have died without it. He turned that over in his mind several times, then realized that his death would have taken Rachel with him.

  More problematic was that Serina had kept that information from him. He supposed she was trying to protect him from himself, but he felt like they needed to set some expectations before something like that came up again.

  He tucked the scroll into his robes. The deed was done. He couldn’t take it back, and he wasn’t sure he would even if he could. In the end, it was either leave them be, or save himself and Rachel. If it came down to being called a murderer to save her life, that was something he decided that he’d accept.

  Sighing, he kicked at a moldy helm, causing it to ricochet off the wall. It settled into a divot, continuing to spin in place for several seconds. After a few moments, he decided nothing had changed. He’d have done it to protect Rachel, one way or another, he’d just have hated himself while slaying them. That and judging from the massive piles of equipment and clothes, they considered the road part of their territory and were killing travelers. They weren’t harmless; they just hadn’t been caught yet.

  He decided it was better to pretend he’d never found out and get back to work. Taking the highest priority items, he’d ended up with an assortment of throwing knives, the curious vials, a fistful of letters, a pocket watch, two dozen rings, a few maps, several large pouches of assorted coins, and some pretty stones.

  Given that they had been in coin pouches together, he was assuming that they were currency equivalent. He
suspected the poor probably used the little blue, green, and clear rocks rather than refined metals, but if he had enough of them, they might fetch a few bottles of whiskey.

  He paused, then remembered the stone he’d given Serina. Pursing his lips, he decided he needed to hang on to them until he could check in with her first. If one could be used as a channeling crystal, it would be folly to trade them away for a beer and a sandwich.

  “So, what do I call you, cat?” TJ asked his familiar.

  Cat.

  TJ chuckled. “Not what I meant. I mean, do you have a name? What do others call you?”

  Birds shall call me Death.

  Shifting his train of thought, he realized that was probably the entirely wrong line of thinking. Cats were cats, after all. Even if they were really some sort of summoned being, pledged to maintain the guise of a cat. If what he’d heard about demons were correct, their true names had power, so it wouldn’t just hand that over for convenience’s sake.

  He asked, “Well, you’re here because I decided to trust Serina. So… how about I call you Faith?”

  Faith?

  Acceptable.

  Hungry.

  It took him a second to follow Faith’s train of thought, but he nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of here. I think we’ve got some smoked fish in the wagon that you’ll like.”

  Leaping from his shoulders, the shadow cat glided on her wings until she touched the floor. She then began lapping at a puddle of goblin blood.

  “Oh,” TJ grumbled.

  He’d heard battle hymns that spoke of drinking the blood of enemies, but Faith was making that a little too literal for his comfort.

  Assuming Faith would catch up, TJ shuffled his way through the constriction, shoving his now rather full pair of packs ahead of him. Once he got through the squeeze, Rachel reached down to help him up.

  “Feeling better?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. The cold is gone, and I was able to heal up. Not a hundred percent, but enough to make it back to the horses if we don’t run into anything too nasty.”

  “And the cat?” Rachel asked.

  TJ replied, “It seems I’ve got a familiar now, and Faith will be joining us in a moment. How about you? Still holding it together?”

  “Yeah. That was rougher than I expected. I gave what you said some thought. If this is any indication of what it’ll take to build your magic, I… well, honestly, we need a lot of help. We almost didn’t make it,” Rachel admitted.

  TJ asked, “Got anyone in mind?”

  “No. All of the guards are on a yearly contract, but I think we’ll need different skills anyway. I got lucky spotting the traps outside; it’s not what I’m good at. More offensive magic would be helpful. It also would have been handy to just toss a wall shield on the ledge and pick our shots. I can use a shield, but I get knocked off my feet easily,” she said.

  TJ replied, “I felt like I was pretty useless once I couldn’t just blast away from a distance. I knew to watch out for being dogpiled, and I still fell for it. I about got us both killed.”

  “You killed dozens of them with ease, but having you go in first was a mistake on both of our parts. Your magic is your strong suit. If we can keep them off you, you can do damage and heal. However, anyone we add will also have to be the right type of person,” Rachel said.

  “What do you mean?” TJ asked.

  Rachel blushed. “If Abby or Bethany accompany us, most mercenaries will get the wrong idea. Attending your oaths will make things awkward. We won’t have private lodgings often.”

  TJ rubbed at his eyes. “Ah, crap. I hadn’t even thought about that. Then there’s the fact that I have to heal by touch if there’s not a bond.”

  “Actually, do we know if you can heal a man at all? If your magic is fed by your oaths, it may not work the same if you, uh, aren’t inclined to them,” Rachel said.

  TJ groaned. “Ugh. We’ll need to find out soon, because that could be a big problem if I’m limited in who I can heal. There’s a lot of moving parts here to think through. It’s like peeling apart a clock. I don’t know if I’m smart enough to put something like that together. I studied the arts, not tactics.”

  Rachel patted his hand. “Then trust in your intended. I’ll get you some of my father’s books, but in the meantime, I will try to put something together. All I ask is that you take my recommendations seriously.”

  TJ nodded, then reached down to grab Faith as she approached. He tried to ignore the smear of blood on her nose as she nestled into place, encircling his neck with her tail.

  Backtracking toward the wagon, they were quiet until they were well beyond where they’d killed the first scout.

  Tugging the rock free from his pocket, TJ held it out while they continued walking. “Oh, I think there might be precious metals in that cave.”

  Rachel eyed the fist-sized sample of white quartz streaked with blue, yellow, green, and silver, then handed it back. “Well, it’s certainly a pretty rock, but I don’t know the first thing about mining. We’d need to find someone who can survey it to verify the claim.”

  “If gold is as valuable as everyone keeps telling me, then a mine might be what you need to raise up the village,” TJ suggested.

  Rachel tapped her finger to her lips. TJ could see the mental switch as she turned off her down-to-earth warrior persona and yet again slipped into that of a noblewoman. He’d seen her flip-flop before, but it was even more apparent since she was still wearing armor yet had begun holding her hands demurely, as though she were still in one of her dresses.

  It was a little odd if he was honest, but endearing, nonetheless. She’d just cleaved her way through an enemy swarm, yet she held her hand daintily poised as if she were at afternoon tea.

  She said, “Agreed. It may take some time to get underway, but do you want me to negotiate our goblin bounty toward mineral rights? While asking for the payment would cause problems, I think something like that would be an ideal request.”

  TJ mouthed the words, trying to work through them. Before he’d seen the land deed he now had in his pocket, he’d never even considered the concept of owning land, much less buying rights for whatever was under the ground.

  Seeing his confusion, Rachel explained, “There are different types of deeds depending if someone wants to live on it, or if they want to claim the natural resources from it. An example would be a farmer that wants to dam a river. While they own the land, they can’t cut off the water to those downstream without permission. Wars have been fought over such things, so the King maintains diligent records of what is permitted.”

  Avoiding her eyes, he asked, “So… what if someone already had the right to live on this land?”

  Rachel pursed her lips, then shook her head. “If anyone owned this, they are long gone. If they haven’t paid their annual taxes, it eventually reverts back to the county.”

  TJ’s magic twisted as if it were raising a middle finger and telling him he was an absolute idiot for doubting Serina. TJ wanted to protest that it was almost certain no one had informed the goblins about that but held his internal debate.

  In the end, it didn’t matter. If the humans ran the laws, and the claim on the land had lapsed, he could set up a mine to help the village. No one in this shitty realm except TJ would give a second thought to some dead goblins, by the way it sounded.

  “So, what would starting a mine involve?” TJ asked.

  Rachel replied, “Primarily, we’ll need to secure mining rights and obtain the correct deeds. It’s rather expensive. However, in this case, this is the largest goblin nest I’ve heard of by far. I believe it may cover purchasing the land and mineral rights outright. From there, we’ll need a crew to survey it, handle construction, build roads to haul ore, and so on.” She sighed. “Like anything in this kingdom, before we can do anything, we’d need the paperwork.”

  He nodded along. “Yeah, let’s do it. This will be investing in our future. Speaking of land, I don’t see myself settlin
g down anytime soon, but won’t I need a home as part of being recognized in your society? It seemed like your manor was part of your title,” TJ asked.

  Rachel scrunched up her face. “That sounds like something we should ask the Duchess. It depends if she decides you should be landed or not. She absorbed the former Count’s estate, and things are a little unstable at the moment.”

  “Former Count?” TJ asked.

  Rachel waved a hand. “Honestly, the politics would probably bore you to tears. The short version is that around five years ago, a very contrived scheme let him skim tax stamps by claiming he was investing it in a military buildup. On paper, he was buying equipment and paying to quarter troops that didn’t exist and having it deducted from what he was supposed to pay the Duchess in taxes. She declared it treason, and the King upheld it. She took control directly and had his entire line removed from the nobility. She hasn’t appointed a replacement yet. So, the county has been governed by her regent for small matters. For anything like this, we have to go straight to the Duchess.”

  “Count and county… Duchess and duchy, I think I get it,” TJ said. “Yeah, we’ve got nothing like that back home. It’s a couple of guys that have somehow survived long enough to get old and opinionated. But they just enforce what is written. All the real power is over them.”

  Getting to the point that they were within sight of the water that flowed along the road, but not where anyone passing by could see them, TJ remembered something important. If things were going the way they felt like they were, he needed to be completely honest with Rachel. She seemed so earnest that the idea of keeping something this significant from her already bothered him.

  “Uhm, hold up. Can you help me get out of this armor?” he requested.

  Rachel gave him a curious look but complied. He had to put Faith on the ground, but he loosened the last of the straps with a bit of help. Once it was free, he gave a sigh of relief. The magical compression of his wings only went so far.

  He began, “So… I honestly don’t know how you’ll react, but Rachel, I’m not human. I’m a Breeze Dancer.”