Volume 1, Chapter 22: Trust Exercises Are a Scam (Patreon)

“As it happens, unfortunately not really the Sekhmet,” I replied to the lion-man, while at the same time holding out the lizard I had been given and returning it to the woman who had thrown it to me.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but calmly accepted it back.

“This is Bri,” I said, pointing toward my companion hovering in the air beside me. “And just like me, she comes from a different Earth than you do.”

“Surely it is impossible that another world, lying beyond the golden radiance of Ra, could give birth to the essence of fire in such a pure form while at the same time producing garments cut so closely to those known to my eyes and skin.” The lion kept one open hand pressed against his chest as he spoke. He circled half a pace around Bri, nostrils working, ears swiveling independently toward the crackle of her flame.

His clothing really was quite similar to mine, made from a breathable but durable material in shades of gray and black, with magnetic fasteners running across the chest. His, however, had clearly enjoyed a much closer acquaintance with the hardships this planet had to offer. It was torn, filthy, worn out, and reeked of sweat and wet fur, which seemed to bother no one nearby except me.

I assumed they had simply gotten used to the smell.

This time, I had no intention of pretending I wasn’t from Earth. I stood out far too much for that. Still, I made a mental note to acquire clothing that would let me blend into the crowd at the first opportunity.

“That’s true. I did, however, get invited for a conversation in what I assume was your world, with a woman named—fuck, I forgot. Merit… Meritat?”

“Meritmaat, Overseer of Examinations?” he asked.

“You’re sure you don’t want the meat?” the redheaded woman asked at the same time, looking hungrily at it for a moment before glancing back at me.

I shook my head. I didn’t know her, or any of them, and I had no intention of getting poisoned simply because they looked friendly. After all, I tried to look friendly too.

“Meritmaat, that’s right. They summoned me, and the alien who arranged my Path decided to honor their request. We had a little chat about how part of your planet apparently considers this Bri right here to be the daughter of the goddess you mentioned, and then they sent me back polished up and dressed in clean clothes. Sorry if I disappointed you.”

The lion lowered his gaze and nodded.

“No. It is I who, after bathing too long in night, mistook the first flame I saw for sunrise.” His chin stayed high, but both ears folded flat into his braided mane.

“Goodness, um, gracious. Relax. It’s fine. If it really suits all of you that much, then, well, you can think of me as a goddess if you want, okay? I definitely, um… prefer that to being an outcast nobody wants around. It’s also nice to see someone else and, um… open my mouth to someone other than…”

Bri began speaking so quickly that sparks started spilling from her mouth. It looked as though, until that moment, she had felt overwhelmed and restricted by my humble company and had finally found someone else she could actually talk to. With every word she spoke, the interest of each women and the lion grew, as did the distance between their eyebrows and eyes. Only the other man seemed uninterested.

“…other than Arthur, who, by the way, I really like and, um… who I owe my life to on more than, well, one occasion.”

“She has spoken, like living fire before the face of the sun god,” the lion began, striking his chest. “I expected miracles in this world and during this trial, yet my heart failed to follow the mind that showed it the way. I am enchanted by your presence.” He stepped closer to Bri and extended one hand toward her. His whiskers curled away from the heat, and the skin beneath the pads on his fingers darkened, but he refused to withdraw. His tail coiled tightly around one ankle—the only sign of pain. “My name, granted to me by my Pride, is Khufu’Ri. If my arms may serve your purpose, if my legs may follow where you lead, then I offer myself to aid you upon your path.”

“Nice to meet you, um… I’m Brigid, but everyone calls me Bri!” Sparks flew from her mouth with each word, and her body grew brighter as she continued. She drifted toward the lion’s hand for a moment, touching it with her flames, then quickly pulled back so she would not hurt him further.

“Sophie DeLonge,” she said with a small inclination of her head. “And this is Miss Nickolette Leben.” She pointed toward the redhead, who was gnawing on the meat I had returned to her—which I was now regretting—while listening to the exchange with obvious interest. “We have been traveling together since shortly after our arrival. Our objectives appear to coincide.”

“Nicky,” the redhead corrected around a mouthful of meat. “Nobody calls me Nicky unless I’m in trouble.”

“Mara Vélez,” the dark-haired woman added. She offered me her hand, then seemed to reconsider after noticing Bri warming the air beside me and settled for a nod. “Quito.”

“Elias Park. Eli.” The man with the harness gave me a much shorter nod.

“My name is Arthur Nilrem, and my main mission involves reaching the city twenty miles north of here. But I also intend to pursue the additional objective that I assume you received as well?”

“Frogflower?” the blonde woman asked and without waiting for my answer, she nodded. “Yes. The orcs currently occupy it. Our objective concerns the same incursion. Unless we interfere, the city will apparently be destroyed within the next several months.” As she spoke in a melodic voice that I immediately found pleasant, both Mara and Khufu’Ri nodded in confirmation.

“I’m glad our objectives aren’t opposed, but actually complementary. I also saw another foreigner carrying an unusual wooden weapon. Has he been traveling with you long? What’s his story?”

“He calls himself Milo and refuses to introduce himself properly using the family name bestowed upon him by his parents, unlike the people at my side. In accordance with such vile secrecy, the nature of his heart is as black as tar from the Madagascan Peninsula.” Khufu’Ri raised both massive hands toward the cavern ceiling and his nose wrinkled. “And he carries the scent of anger even when no enemy stands before him. We encountered him shortly after setting out with the caravan from the city port toward Underrock, where we now stand. He helped repel an attack we suffered at the hands of the orcs and, through that deed, earned the favor of the people here.”

“Definitely suboptimal.” Nicky dismissed the matter with a wave. “More interesting question: what Path did you choose? I picked Foodie, and I don’t regret it. I can actually use the fat I’ve stored for something useful. Current rating: nine out of ten. Would recommend.”

“Really!? That sounds, um… absolutely fantastic! I’m on the Healer Path! I can heal wounds and my Eye of the Physician helps me determine what is wrong with people!”

“Seriously? Healing fire?” the woman replied.

Bri brightened, nodding as sparks flew from her flames.

“I generally control fire,” I said. “Although I have absolutely no control over her.” I laughed and pointed toward Bri, earning a laugh from the blonde.

“Dispatcher.” Mara glanced toward the nearest exit, then checked the faces around us.

I stared at her for a fraction of a second, wondering why on Earths someone would choose that when offered supernatural paths to follow.

“Emergency dispatcher, to be precise,” she corrected herself, prompted by my pause. “The little gray man told me there would be plenty of lost people here. I figured something I already had experience with would be the most useful. Now the power inside me lets me physically help others out of danger.”

“Oh, really? That sounds, well, really interesting… are you, well, someone who heals people too?” Bri’s flames spread wider, her colors brightening into a vivid red.

“More like someone who points them in the right direction.” Mara tapped two fingers against her temple. “My abilities mostly help with coordination. I can mark something as the immediate priority and make it easier for willing people around me to focus on it. If I give someone a short enough instruction, I can also push some of what I’m noticing along with the words.”

Eli raised two fingers. “Rigger,” he answered, then adjusted his harness before explaining his choice. “I spent eleven years hanging from buildings without falling off them.” He shrugged. “Seemed stupid to abandon a winning strategy just because aliens showed up.”

“What can you, um, do?”

“Mostly rope and load management. I can feel where a structure is carrying force, and I can exert some control over lines I'm working with.”

“I follow the Florist Path. Unfortunately, it has been rather impractical here; until today I had not encountered a single usable blossom. The abilities themselves are promising,” Sophie replied when it became clear Eli would not add anything else.

“I walk the Path my father laid before me, one that, through the Daimon, has gained legitimacy in the eyes of the universe.” One claw tapped the bone half-hidden beneath his mane. “My father’s bones carried it from his father. Mine carry it from my father. I am a Bone Shaman.”

“You mean your people practiced magic before the Event, Khufu’Ri?” the blonde woman asked before I could voice the same question. I found myself studying the skin of her face with admiration. There wasn’t a single blemish anywhere on it, only tiny golden freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks like someone had flicked metallic paint over her skin. Her hair grew evenly on both sides, and the perfect symmetry of her features gave me an uncanny valley feeling.

“Magic has existed in every world since the beginning of the universe. What those who sent us here offer is a systematization of the direction in which we may travel, and a record of what the universe remembers, written in a language our souls understand intuitively. Other forms of magic exist as well. Some require a powerful soul, others ingredients, to invoke the same abilities the Daimon helps us control.”

“Before the Event?”

“I speak only truth. Such is the nature of bone. My father, his grandfather, and I all used spells passed down from generation to generation long before I gained easier access to them through the crystal beneath my proud mane.”

“Then I misunderstood. What, precisely, was required before the Daimon simplified the process?”

“What he means is that practically everything we do in this world, and the way we think about phenomena—especially in large groups—affects how the Universe works,” Nicky joined in after gnawing the leg off the lizard. “The more people see something as an event that should happen—or if one person with sufficiently strong personal Authority sees it that way—the more likely it is that the Universe will bend under the pressure of that will and make the situation real. But when it does, it adds its own conditions explaining why it happened, creating something like code that programs the possibility of repeating it in the future. The Daimons in our heads were designed to somehow follow the literal instructions of that code and trigger the effect while bypassing the other requirements, apart from the personal Authority produced by the Psyche. You following me?”

“Nicky speaks in accordance with what I know,” the lion added with a nod.

“I must have missed that when you two were discussing those revelations earlier.” Sophie tapped her chin with a finger.

“We spoke on the first night, by the fire. You had already fallen asleep.” Khufu’Ri told Sophie.

“I think that I follow so far,” I replied. “How do you know all this? Was your world like that too?”

“I have no idea. Probably, because it makes sense, but I know it from him and from what I’ve managed to piece together over the last day while we’ve been talking about it.”

“I don’t entirely understand this whole language and code thing…” I began.

“Let me simplify it with an example. I’m making this up on the spot, so I have no idea whether a spell like this actually exists, okay?”

I nodded.

“Let’s say that a long time ago, some powerful mage, using nothing but the sheer force of Authority tied to his understanding of the Concept of fire, decided that fire should appear out of nowhere on a piece of wood while casually waving his hand. The Universe remembered it and wrote it into its code. From that point on, someone who witnessed it—or stumbled across the same process by accident—could take the same kind of wood, repeat the mage’s hand movements and intent, and, provided they had enough Authority, recreate the phenomenon and ignite the wood from a distance.”

“Correct. That is precisely how it has been done for generations within my family and Pride,” Khufu’Ri interrupted, while at the same time pointing toward several benches made from fallen mushroom trunks that had just become available nearby.

We started toward them so we could sit instead of continuing the conversation on our feet.

“Exactly, except we have Daimons in our heads that someone designed to skip all the hand movements, gathering ingredients, and everything else, and simply reach for the spell remembered by the Universe and trigger it with nothing more than a command. Super neat!”

“I understand,” I replied, taking a seat across from Nicky, with Sophie sitting beside her. The lion took the place next to me, pressing the bench more firmly into the ground beneath his weight. Bri remained hovering in the air nearby. “And you’ve known about this for years on your Earth?”

“Yes. It’s common knowledge, but people born with enough Authority to use magic are extremely rare. Purity of blood is a priority if a family or Pride wants to preserve the Spark within its lineage.”

“So that raises the question: who are those powerful mages who need neither ingredients nor gestures, nor even a Daimon in their heads? Do you know anything about that?” I asked the lion, pulling a waterskin from my backpack after planting my staff in the ground beside the bench.

“They listened until the Concept ceased to be music heard from afar and became a rhythm carried in their own bones.” His ears twitched and turned forward as he spoke. Nostrils widened. “In all the recorded history of my world, only a dozen or so such individuals have ever been described. My words, as Ra is my witness, do not mean that these were the only such cases beneath his all-seeing eye, merely the only ones that survived in the annals of history.”

“I understand. Not much is known about them?”

“Such is reality. Dark to those who carry no light of their own.”

“Why, um… are you sharing all this knowledge so openly?” Bri asked, probably so that I could hear for myself the virtues of open dialogue, unrestrained by personal restrictions and self-imposed caution.

“Knowledge is hardly diminished by sharing it,” Sophie replied.

“Truth has bones, and those words stand upright. Though our worlds were carried away by different currents of history, we still share a single source, and it is that very source we are all fighting for. If I do not prove through my sacrifice that the Earths deserve to exist within the Universe, perhaps Brigid will. Or Sophie, Eli, Mara, Nicky, or you, Arthur. Perhaps it will be Milo, whose methods are foreign to my heart. But one thing is certain: it is our duty to share what we possess so that our world has the greatest possible chance. Knowledge kept buried helps none of our Earths.”

I listened and nodded along, smiling as though I had just experienced some revelation about the deepest truths of goodness governing the world.

In reality, however, I knew that this man—if he could even be called one, looking more like an animal—was living in a fantasy. Every one of us had been thrown here to be devoured, and every one of us ought to look after ourselves first.