“I promise, I’ll do the best that I can,” I said.
“Right, then I need to find someplace quiet and focus on my totems. Ollie, are you going to be okay without me until Bye-bye fixes me?” Micaela asked, looking expectantly at her husband.
“I got you, babe,” Olaf answered. “I’ve got Vision watching my back,” he added, giving the spirit wolf a brief scratch behind the ears.
“You got it Minion Number One,” Vision cheered, happy for even the momentary ministration.
“Great, then I’ll be outside, this cavern is just filled with Spirit energy. Should be good enough to content my totems,” Micaela said, wiping at her eyes before almost skipping out of the room.
“Thanks, mate,” said Olaf, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I said. “There is still a good chance I’m going to fail.”
“Yeah, but you gave her hope,” Olaf countered. “Anyway, with the wife occupied, I suppose I should cook breakfast, just don’t expect any buffs.”
Rose kissed me on the cheek unexpectedly.
“What was that for?” I asked, surprised by the kiss.
“Just because,” Rose replied, leaning back in her chair.
After breakfast, I walked part of the way to the barracks with Olaf, Rose, and Baby before splitting off and entering the archive.
“What? Back already?” Libre asked as soon as she saw me. “You cannot have possibly read and understood everything in that book I gave you yesterday.”
“I’m still working on the ‘Assassination Handbook’,” I admitted. “I’m actually here because I finished the ‘Shamanism: A Study in the Way of the Shaman’. It gave me a better idea of what I’m looking for.”
“So, what are you looking for?” Libre asked.
“My friend Micaela, the Shaman that was with me the other day, she is having a problem with her totems,” I explained.
“Ah, hit her Spirit Limit, did she?” Libre asked.
“Yes, I’m trying to find a solution to the problem while she tries to hold on to the remaining totems,” I explained.
“Sorry to tell you this, but there is no solution to the problem. All Shamans have a limit,” Libre stated.
“I know that is what the book explained. What it didn’t say was if there was a way to increase Spirit beyond the level cap? It also didn’t say if there was a way to improve the efficiency of the Spirit stat,” I said.
“Hmm, I have no idea if such a thing is possible. I mean to say, I know increasing the stat beyond the cap is impossible. But, increasing the efficiency . . . it may be possible,” Libre said.
“Can you point me to the right book?” I asked.
“No, none of the books in my possession hold such a skill as far as I know,” Libre replied. “You might be able to find something in one of the Root City libraries.”
I frowned. That was not what I wanted to hear. “Have you ever heard of anything like what I’m thinking?” I asked.
“Well . . . I mean there are stories about such things . . . but they are just stories,” Libre said.
“Couldn’t hurt to look,” I said. Now I really was grasping at straws.
“Alright, come with me,” Libre instructed, walking to an area directly behind her desk. A section filled with bright and colorful books with friendly looking Dragons, Trolls, and other monsters. It looked very much like the typical children’s book sections I had seen pictures of in history books. She walked over to one shelf and pulled out a book, then another shelf and another book. “This one is about the ‘Mystic Shaman of Ceucc’,” she handed me the most colorful book of the two. This one had large illustrated pictures, very much a child’s story.
“I don’t think this one will be of much help,” I said, trying to hand it back.
“Read it, then decide. It isn’t like it will take you very long,” Libre stated firmly. Then she handed me the second book. “This one is a little bit darker as children’s books go. Parents usually read this, so their children are more aware of the dangers of the world.”
The book she handed me was leather-bound, more akin to a journal in appearance. Stamped into the leather on the front was a skull, something I felt had no business on the cover of a children’s book. Above the skull was printed ‘World Tree Tails: Children Beware’. For as cute as the play on words was, that was a bit more than just a little ominous.
“You will want the story of Shaman Thunderwolf,” Libre said.
I nodded. “Don’t suppose you have a reading area?”
“Sure, follow me,” said Libre, taking the lead once more and guiding me to a corner of the archive. There were a few large chairs, long couches, and a coffee bar with fresh muffins, scones, and other pastries. It was a very familiar setting, much like every other coffee shop in the real world. “I’ll be up front, let me know if you need anything. The pastries and coffee are complimentary.”
I smiled, carefully selecting the perfect blueberry muffin . . . I think they were blueberries. Anyway, I picked the largest of the chairs and got comfortable. Because she pushed, I read the illustrated book first. It was really simple. The Shaman of Ceucc found a little lost spirit and with a lot of rhyming he guided the lost spirit back to its spirit family, which rewarded him handsomely and everyone lived happily ever after. The only thing possibly related was the dozen or so spirits he was able to use to help him with every little obstacle. Nothing about how he came upon such power or what his levels were. It was about what I expected.
‘World Tree Tails: Children Beware’ was about as dark as the cover seemed to indicate. Shaman Thunderwolf, a famous Dwarf Shaman, of course, was up against a Gremlin Eater. It started when an overfed child went to visit his father, a Dwarven mine foreman. The father was so proud to show his son the mine and introduce him to all the other miners that worked for him. Throughout the tour, the child ate sweets, dropped crumbs and even a whole cupcake at one point. I think the point was to warn children not to leave food lying around in mines lest a gremlin finds it. Shaman Thunderwolf stopped the Gremlin Eater after most of the city had been destroyed but it barely touched upon his spirits except to say he used the flames of his dragon spirit staff to incinerate the gremlin. That might have actually been the second lesson, you kill gremlins with fire . . . or maybe a dragon. Either way, that was about all the books could offer on Shamans.
I would have thrown the book in disgust except that the story really was written well and kind of entertaining, despite how dark it was, what with the foreman getting eaten because of his son's mistake, simply because the boy didn’t know any better.
I sighed heavily, sinking back into the chair. I was worried I was going to need to go back up to the Shaman section and read everything there and hope that it would somehow all come together into some kind of miracle skill that did exactly what I needed it to do. Which ironically, I probably wouldn’t be able to learn even if one did exist because I am not a Shaman. I sighed again.
I turned the page to the next story. Malorie’s Manacles, the story title read. Malorie was a young Dwarf that ventured too deep into a mine that was dug far too deep. She was captured by an evil Goblin Shaman. The Shaman kept her bound in magic manacles. The Shaman proceeded to feed her, raise her . . . fatten her up. As a child, she wouldn’t provide him much of a meal. But the Shaman made a mistake, he grew to enjoy her company. You see, the young Dwarf was smart. She learned the Shaman’s language, convinced him to teach her his secrets. She became a Shaman in her own right, grew powerful. And when the time came, she subjugated the totem that kept her chained in the Shaman’s castle. Upon doing so she discovered the truth of the Shaman’s power, a totem the Shaman kept hidden away. A totem that when destroyed made all the other totems turn against their master.
I wasn’t entirely sure what the point of this story was. Maybe something like don’t dig too deep or a Goblin might catch you. But, if one does then, befriend it if you can. At least, until you can kill it when the opportunity presents it
self. It was kind of like Beauty and the Beast except that instead of Beauty falling in love with the Beast, she grabbed an ax when he wasn’t looking and cut his head off. Very dark.
Before I knew it, I had read all the stories, they were quite entertaining in a dark and ghoulish kind of way. Sadly, when I finished reading the book, I wasn’t any closer to solving Micaela’s problem.
After returning the books to Libre, I went back upstairs and picked out another book. One specific to Spirit. It was more informative with regards to the specifics of how Spirit was an evolved form of Wisdom. There were some techniques for increasing your spirit stat that Micaela might want to try. In the end, the book adhered to the same principle that Spirit was limited to your level cap. I started to wonder if any Shaman had ever tried to break the limits of a stat cap or to find a way to make their spirit control improve.
Three days, eight books and I wasn’t even the slightest bit closer to figuring out how to help Micaela.
It was frustrating. I ate another of the free muffins for lunch, a food that had become a staple meal for me the last few days. If not for another date with Rose and spending time with my friends I might have lost my mind. As it was, I was terribly jealous when Olaf came home the second day and was level 16. And of course, Rose had caught up to me again. We were both level 15 now. I was happy for her but also annoyed that I was missing out on so much.
Eventually, I went in search of another book. I chose one much larger and one I wasn’t particularly looking forward to. It was a dry read that almost put me to sleep multiple times. Four hours of reading later I had nothing to show for my efforts except for a few more points of Intellect and Wisdom. And when I say a few, I mean a few. After spending nearly eight hours reading today, I gained +2-Intellect and +1-Wisdom, which had pretty much been the case every day I spent studying Shamans. I threw the book . . . at another chair. I didn’t want to damage the book no matter how much it frustrated me.
I took a few deep breaths trying to calm down. It wasn’t working. My stats weren’t improving, I wasn’t making any progress on Micaela’s problem, and now the frustration was getting the best of me. I huffed, breathing wasn’t working to calm me down and more reading was unlikely to fix my problems. I think I was more bothered by the lack of improvement of my stats than anything. Thankfully, that was something I could address immediately. I finally activated ‘Meditation’, letting the world fade away.
Meditation
Level: 1
Experience: 0.00%
Skill Effect (Active): Enter the Meditation Mind Temple
Intellect: +1 per 60 minutes
Wisdom: +1 per 60 minutes
Charisma: +1 per 60 minutes
I found myself atop that same mountain peak as the very first time I came here. The same roof suspended above me. The same wooden posts holding that roof up. And the same red and gold cushion sitting in the center. I took a minute to enjoy the serenity of this place. Especially that view, it was just wow. It was such a peaceful place I couldn’t help but calm down almost immediately.
I sat down on the pillow with a sigh.
Welcome to the Meditation Mind Temple
Select Meditation focus
Intellect
Wisdom
Charisma
Exit
It would take hours to get these stats up to their maximum no matter which I chose. Wisdom had the least distance to travel so I figured I may as well start with that. I thought ‘Wisdom’ and the menu flashed.
Wisdom Meditation Selected
Select that which eludes you.
World Tree Tails: Children Beware
Shaman Spirit Mechanics
Plains of Existence: The Spirit Realm
Back
That was not what I expected. I honestly didn’t know what to expect but this had never crossed my mind. Those were the last three books I read. Yes, I know I already read ‘World Tree Tails: Children Beware’ days ago, but it was a good story and I needed the occasional break. But that still doesn’t explain why? Why were the last three books I read listed as part of my ‘Meditation’? I couldn’t even form a hypothesis as to what this was about. Was it some kind of mental review? I supposed there was only one way to find out. I thought ‘World Tree Tails: Children Beware’.
The mind temple blurred from view and suddenly I was somewhere else . . . I was someone else. I looked around frantically. I tried to run only for some invisible tether to pull me back, and felt something bite into my ankle, literally. I pulled at the hem of my dress and there, around my ankle, was a single shackle, no visible chain that I could see. The shackle looked more like an open mouth full of razor-sharp teeth with leathery lips and skin around the outside of it. The teeth themselves were metal as was the inside of the shackle. It was biting me, the teeth digging in deeper as I tried to pull away and run. Finally, the pain was too much. I moved back into my cell and much to my relief the teeth relented.
“How the hell is this supposed to be meditation?” I grumbled, unprepared for the very female voice that emerged along with a very natural brogue I had gotten used to hearing from the Dwarves that surrounded me daily. It took me a moment to realize this was the Malorie’s Manacles story, though it felt even darker than the story portrayed.
“You trap Dwarf,” a voice said, it sounded like it was struggling to say the words. “You eat,” it said, pushing a tray of food into the cell but not entering itself.
I frowned in disgust, but I was suddenly ravenously hungry. I took the food, some moldy bread that I knew was probably going to make me sick, but still, I ate. The room faded to black. When the room faded back in, I was in the same cell. My dress was now tattered and black with dirt.
“You come,” Tridiak ordered. I don’t know how I now knew the voice of my captor, but I did. I followed obediently like it was something I had done many times before.
The castle or cave, I’m not really sure what this place was but it was dark and dank, I could hear water running somewhere near my feet, but I couldn’t see it.
“You ask, you read . . . learn,” Tridiak snapped and shoved me into a small library. Then he said something in a language I didn’t understand and my shackled shivered slightly. I had a feeling that if I tried to leave this room it would bite me again. The room wasn’t as dark as the hallway which was good but there was still little light. Maybe there would be just enough to read by if I held the book near one of the candles that were lit. I had another feeling the candle had been lit just for my sake. On the desk sat a book, the cover was in a language I recognized, ancient Dwarven. I opened the cover, it was a Dwarven-Goblin dictionary.
Everything faded to black again. When the room faded back in, I was back in the library. Tridiak sat in the only chair in the room, glaring at me.
“How do we manage multiple totems?” the Goblin Shaman demanded sternly. Somehow, I was able to understand him perfectly now. Apparently, I didn’t answer fast enough, a whip of fire shot from his hand, striking my leg painfully and dropping me to my knee as I held the leg in pain.
“With absolute control and no mercy,” I growled out.
“Good. What do we do when a totem steps out of line?” Tridiak continued.
“Destroy it, without mercy,” I replied, slowly standing upright again.
“Good. I think you might be ready to make your first totem, but first, another lesson,” Tridiak said, rotating a single finger for me to turn away.
I did as I was ordered, dropping to my knees and loosening the ties behind my neck, allowing my dress, what little remained of it, to part and expose my back. I could feel the dress part over the flesh that was heavily scarred. I would have more scars after today, I thought, just before the lash struck, searing my flesh. Thankfully, I didn’t need to endure another before the world faded to black.
When the world came back into view, I was in my cell again. My totems were beyond my reach for now and the shackle around my ankle would ensure I would not be leaving or seeking the
m for assistance anytime soon . . . maybe never again.
I had finally tried to escape this eternal hell. My totems were with me when I struck, intent on killing my captor. Except he crushed me first. I will remember that laugh for the rest of my days, however few of them remain.
“Stupid short fat one,” Tridiak’s voice taunted my memories. His description was the Goblin word for Dwarf. “You were smarter than the others. I wondered how long you would wait before you struck at me. Alas, you like all your kind are too short-sighted. You never see the trap for a trap, only an opportunity. Greedy stupid short fat one, tomorrow I will dine well.”
I fought back tears as I wallowed there. My shackle shook, I kicked my leg into the wall, making sure the shackle hit first before it bit me for my troubles. Then it shook again. I hated this totem so very much. It took pleasure in taunting me, especially since I learned to enter the spirit realm where it had a voice I could hear. It bit into me, making it clear it wanted to speak with me. I was inclined to refuse but then it would just bite harder.
“Fine,” I snapped at it. I closed my eyes and let my spirit free from this fleshly body.
“Ha ha ha,” the shackled cackled. “Stupid short fat one, ha ha ha!”
“Are you done?” I asked in irritation.
“Tomorrow you will become a feast. I wonder, will he eat you alive or cook you first? Maybe he will cut off a leg and make you watch as he eats it. So many torments, so little time . . . left to live that is,” the shackle spirit, a jackal, taunted me.
I felt such rage. How dare this . . . this thing, treat me like this! I lashed out, kicking the jackal in the head. I didn’t expect it to yelp in pain or for there to be a gash in its spectral body where my foot connected. I certainly didn’t expect the look of fear in the jackal’s eyes, especially as it started backing away from me. I could see now, it wanted to flee, tell its master. I couldn’t let it.
The Mountain Valley War Page 47