Chapter 33: Push Forward (Patreon)

"Excellent?" Breka asked. "What’s excellent about it?”

Hypatia reached out and grasped Elliot gently by the back of his upper neck. "Please, continue."

She was close enough for him to see the silver flecks in her brown eyes, and notice the minute wrinkles on her forehead. He focused on not pulling away from the unsettling proximity. "Sure. I only get a little more information most of the time, although it depends on how hard I try."

"It's a continuous shift, not a discrete one? A steady increase in output as you increase your effort rather than hitting a certain threshold and getting a new fact?"

"Well," he said, pausing. Was it? It had to be, because he’d never pulled hard enough to get more energy but not gotten more information. "I think so. The facts are discrete; it's not like I'm getting them one word at a time, but the energy comes in a steady flow. I don't think I hit thresholds, it’s more like I get as much energy as I can and then the skill converts it to whatever it's worth, if that makes sense.”

"Mmm, I see. Please use your skill again, this time with the vortex."

Elliot turned back to the image of the ship and focused on one of the sails, which he'd previously appraised as woven linen. Spinning the vortex, he felt the strand of energy drawn from the image get caught in its pull, and he yanked. Information arrived. The sail was coated in boiled linseed oil to help prevent wear, and was due for a re-coat within the year.

"How wonderful," Hypatia breathed out, releasing Elliot's neck and stepping back. "Something new." She strode over to her chair and folded herself back into a cross-legged position on the cushion, chin cupped in one hand, staring at him.

Breka sighed. "Hypatia, please."

"There's something in his head. Something strange. I can't see it clearly enough to understand what it is, but I think it's blue." She had a faint smile on her face. "Maybe blue-green. It's fascinating."

"Is it dangerous? Is it physical? Give me something here, please." Breka rubbed at one temple. “Is it something you can explore, or do you know of someone else who might be able to?”

"It's somewhere between physical and ethereal. I have no idea if it's dangerous, and I don't know anyone who I suspect would know more, although I'm sure there are many out there who could know more, as the world is a large and wonderful place, and I know so few of its people."

Frowning, Breka looked at the back of his head. "So it's enchanted material?"

"No," Hypatia replied, her smile widening. "It has elements of both the physical and the ethereal but belongs wholly to neither. It makes it almost impossible to examine. I can only barely tell that it’s there.”

Elliot raised a hand to his head self-consciously, before forcing it back down to his side. “So someone put something inside my brain?” Was it the thing from the void?

“I have no idea,” she said, seeming inordinately pleased. “It could have been placed by a being of extreme power, you could have been born with it, it could have been something you ate. I couldn’t even begin to guess.” She tilted her head slightly. “The only feeling I get is that something about it seems nested, and comfortable. It's curled over the remains of your third eye seed like a mother hen."

Breka raised both eyebrows, then pulled her pipe from a pocket and lit it with a wave, taking a long puff.

"Wait, sorry, my what?" Elliot asked, starting to feel almost dizzy. "Third eye seed?"

"You were exposed to some great ethereal trauma within the last year, yes?" Hypatia replied. 

"Yes," Elliot said slowly.

Her eyes sparkled. "Something rather disastrous, perhaps? Truly abnormal?"

"Hypatia," Breka barked, "the point, please."

"You were born with the seed of a third eye. It is rare, but not unheard of. Careful, stepwise training and many thousands of hours are needed to harness such a thing, along with exposure to moderately high levels of ambient ethera, but had your life progressed along that path you would have found yourself in possession of a powerful tool for sight. In your case, however, it was awoken early. I have heard of cases like yours, always after the subject was exposed to massive ethereal events, such as the Fatestorms of the far north. I would imagine you suddenly found yourself able to see things you shouldn't have."

Images of blue-white clouds and warriors wreathed in light flashed through Elliot's mind. But that had been before the Beacon. "How do people...get one of those? Is it like an ability?"

"No. It is inborn. The Beacon will help you develop it, but to awaken it is the work of the individual alone."

He could feel a headache coming on. Does that mean there was magic back on Earth? "And you said the 'remains' of my third eye seed?"

"Yes," she replied, a flicker of sympathy crossing her face. "When ripped open as yours was, the damage is extensive. I know of no one who has managed to produce a real third eye after such a beginning. But—" she perked up, "you are unique! I have never seen whatever beautiful thing is clutching your broken seed. I could not venture to guess what it could mean for you."

Breka sighed. "And there's nothing else abnormal about him?"

"Well," Hypatia said, waving a hand dismissively, "there's a construct in his chest. But it feels prosaic, simply powerful enough to hide its function from me."

"What thing in his chest, Hypatia," Breka said, the strain of keeping her tone calm visible on her face.

"It's an ethereal construct. A black needle. Placed by someone or something staggeringly powerful, but not in-and-of itself interesting."

"And that's it? Nothing else?"

"That is all I can see."

"Does any of this connect for you, boy?"

The words 'black needle' had sent a shiver through Elliot's body, and he remembered the final seconds of his meeting with the extradimensional being. Its widening maw, stretched into something that was almost a smile. Something small and black shooting across and into his chest. 'And finally, a prophecy. But that's for later.'

"You can trust Hypatia to keep your secrets," Breka added, "as long as you keep the information relevant to what we're discussing, you can share what you like."

"The...being I dealt with. It shot something that could have been a black needle at my chest. It said it was giving me a prophecy for later." He tried to keep his voice steady. "Is it dangerous?"

"Everything is dangerous when working with the greater powers," Hypatia said, "but this does not seem particularly dangerous. I am blocked from true understanding, but an information construct would be reasonable. I imagine you must trigger some kind of condition before receiving the knowledge."

"My my," Breka said. "Aren't you stuffed to the brim with mystery. Do you recommend we take any action? Or leave things well enough alone and proceed as we would have anyway?"

Hypatia cocked her head. "You must do as you think best. But I would not attempt to remove the wonder in his brain. To do so would destroy his mind and rupture his core, or so I believe."

Elliot's eyes widened. "Does it seem...uh...secure? Or like it would be easy to remove?"

“I can tell you that I would have no idea how to start the process," Hypatia replied, shrugging. "I’d likely have to kill and dissect you to even begin, and for all I know that would end it as a phenomenon altogether. There’s no need to worry, Elliot. The world follows its own path. And besides, anyone strong enough to remove it could certainly find any number of easier ways to kill you.”

“Oh,” he said faintly, “thanks.”

Breka eyed him briefly, taking another puff from her pipe. “Thank you, Hypatia. I think I’ll take your test subject back to the inn. He looks like he could use a bit of a break."

“Please do let me know if you discover more,” Hypatia replied brightly, closing her eyes. “It’s so good to expand conceptual paradigms. Bracing, like a winter swim, but for the mind.”

“Come, boy,” Breka said brusquely, although the hand she placed on his shoulder was gentle. “Let’s head back."

“Right, sure,” he replied, the words 'destroy' and 'rupture' still floating through his mind. “Let’s go.”

Elliot spent the walk in silence, brooding. He had a foreign construct in his chest placed by a being who clearly wished him ill, a foreign thing in his brain that could be anything at all, and a broken gift that he'd never known was his and that really shouldn't exist because it came from Earth before the Beacon. The implications were twisting him up. Did everyone from Earth have magic, and there just wasn't enough ethera around to make use of it? Why didn't they have a Beacon? If a third eye seed was something you were born with, was it genetic? Would Rowan have a third eye seed?

His foot clipped the edge of a slab of bark and he staggered. Why were so many things so out of his control?

"Are you alright, boy?" Breka asked, brow furrowed.

"Yeah," he replied, taking a deep breath. "Totally fine. Let's keep moving."

When they stepped back into the room, Hadrian was sitting cross-legged on the floor with his cube, and the armchair was gone.

“How did you fare?” Hadrian asked.

“The boy has a half-physical, half-ethereal thing in his head that gives him a completely inexplicable affinity for sight while being so entangled with his being that removing it for study would kill him. He also has a third eye seed which would have been a reasonable explanation for an affinity for sight, but was destroyed and so is now irrelevant. And he has a prophecy construct in his chest, but a boring one, as far as Hypatia is concerned.”

Hadrian blinked. “Your existence seems destined to overcomplicate.”

Elliot glared at the hunter. “You say that like it’s my fault. How about a little sympathy?”

Hadrian snorted. “Sympathy. You have a mysterious power that grants skill beyond what should be possible. Another mysterious power. Please, tell me of your struggle.”

“Did you not hear the part about removing it killing me? What if it’s not stable long term? What if something I don’t even understand triggers it and I just die?” he said, practically shouting by the end.

“Oh,” Hadrian replied, rolling his eyes. “Yes. My sympathies. Let us not dwell on the infinite variety of things which could kill you in other ways, then. You might find it upsetting. Every day I seek beasts at the edge of my ability, and every day both death and growth are possibilities. This is the world. Welcome to it.”

Elliot scowled. Hadrian could be such an ass. Not even a drop of empathy. But, frustratingly enough, maybe he also had a point. It didn’t feel right, or fair, and it didn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach, but something about the man’s bluntness shook him.

This was a new and harsher world, something he’d been wrestling with since the overcharged conduits and the monstrous Guardian. He’d gotten a second chance at life, spared from the jaws of the leviathan as his world disappeared around him. Some things could be controlled, and some couldn’t. Hrolf’s words from the healer’s house drifted through his mind: ‘Blood from sword, is life. Like hunger. Is…must be.’

What was he doing, pretending things hadn’t fundamentally changed? Rowan was lost. Thirty thousand miles of monster-infested wilderness and dangerous powers stood between him and her. So he had something in his head. So what? Hadrian was right. Death was everywhere, from monsters in the wilds to knight orders looking to burn him for things out of his control. If he wanted to find his sister before he died of old age, he needed to adapt. Really adapt.

“We may have to let most of this lie for now, as much as I regret it,” Breka continued. “Hypatia is the only one for thousands of miles who I trust to investigate something like this while still keeping our secrets.”

“Does it change the plan for his development?” Hadrian asked.

Breka pursed her lips. “No. Not for now. Too uncertain. We have to forge ahead as we have been, and hope for the best. Perhaps it will work in our favor. What do you say boy, ready to increase your training hours?”

“I want to move forward,” Elliot blurted out.

Breka quirked an eyebrow. “You what?”

“I know I don’t really get the details of how this works, and I know you’re holding me back for a reason, but I bet if I’m willing to accept more danger it would give more opportunities to build a strong foundation faster, right?”

“Yes…that’s true. But there’s a reason I’m having you progress as you are. If you want to move significantly faster, you’ll need to take on significantly greater risks. Nothing like what you’ve done so far. The cavern writhers and overcharged conduits would take on a rosy glow in your memory after you’d faced what I would put you against.”

Elliot gulped, then looked over at Hadrian. “Risks like he takes?”

Hadrian and Breka exchanged glances.

“I do train with significant risk,” Hadrian said slowly, “I, however, was raised to be what I am from birth. When I was a child, unable to cultivate skills, I was taught the aspects of combat that I am now trying to impart to you. When I received my profession, I had been learning the arts of hunting, killing, and survival for over a decade.”

Rowan was so far away, through so many obstacles, that Breka’s first thought had been for him to mourn her death. Elliot took a deep breath. “If I wanted…an eighty percent chance of being able to reach my sister. How long do you think that would take me, realistically?”

“Four chances in five? My opinion hasn’t changed. I would say the fifth circle is what you would need to achieve,” Breka replied. “For a higher chance than that, you would need the sixth, which isn’t realistic for most. With my help, and with heavy, consistent effort on your part, along with well-managed but escalating risk, I would say in the order of thirty years.”

Elliot gaped. “What? Are you being serious?”

“This is not child’s play, boy. The fourth circle is considered a great achievement, even for the skilled. If you wish to reach the fifth, it’s going to be a work of incredible time and effort. What did you think I would say, six months? Why would I have offered you this deal in the first place, if I didn’t think you would be in my service for a useful stretch before being ready to set off?”

His head was spinning, black flecks swimming across his vision. “That’s…a lifetime.” She could be dead by then. She probably would be dead by then, with the way this world seemed to run. There was no way Rowan would be standing still while she thought he was lost somewhere. She would be driving forward. He couldn’t let her do it alone.  “What would I have to do, ignoring the likelihood of death, to have a chance for that kind of strength in…five years?”

Hadrian let out a snort, and Breka sighed.

“You have no idea how ridiculous that question would appear to any instructor you could possibly find,” Hadrian said. “Five years would be a race, even with all the resources in the world.”

Elliot kept his eyes on Breka, his heart pounding. “What would it take?”

She returned his gaze, still frowning, but there was no mockery in her expression. “Do you really want to consider that path? It’s not impossible, if that’s what you want to know. The Beacon loves risk, and daring. Miraculous things are possible if you overcome great odds. But there is a reason why it isn’t done. If you keep taking on great risk, year after year, you die. The odds can’t go your way forever, no matter how gifted you are. And let me tell you, boy, you have some powerful innate advantages. Sight is an underappreciated thing, spatial manipulation is a wonder, and the ability to mold your profession this early is unprecedented. I personally believe that you might have the raw potential to lever yourself up to the very top, even if Hadrian wouldn’t agree. But you aren’t the most gifted person I’ve ever met. I’ve seen the monstrously talented—heirs to true legends—receive everything, and still fail.”

He tightened his jaw. “What would it take?”

“If I wanted to get you to the fifth circle in five years, I would start throwing you in warrens tomorrow. More dangerous than the one you already set foot in, by far. For your path in particular, and for now, I would need you to avoid killing the myr you find inside unless it was life or death, and I would need you to reach the center and pluck the reward from the jaws of whatever rests there, then bring it back to sell to me. We would repeat this, warren after warren, for months, building your baseline as we slowly moved you up the steps.”

“Why sell it to you?” he asked.

“I need your vitae to flow largely through your profession, at first. Later we can expand your horizons. I will not explain further right now, so no more questions. Remember, knowing some things could endanger your progress.”

Why would picking up an item from a warren even count towards my profession? “I want to try. Let me at least give it a shot—and I know there’s a chance of dying even the first time. I still want to do it.”

Breka stared at him in silence for a long moment, a complicated expression on her face, before finally replying. “If you wish that, then I won’t stop you. Tomorrow morning you’ll head out by broadback, which will drop you a mile or two from your destination. Hadrian will escort you to the entrance, then leave you. I won’t explain what you’ll find there.” She paused. “And you’re sure? It won’t be like anything you’ve experienced so far.”

“I’m sure.” Am I sure? “I want to push myself.” I am sure.

Hadrian frowned, opened his mouth, then closed it again without speaking.

“Very well, then,” Breka replied. “I have a particular destination in mind. You’ll be equipped similarly to last time, but instead of the knife you get this,” she moved over to the chest in the corner, rummaging around for a second before pulling out what looked like a small bronze lantern.

Elliot leaned forward. “What is it?”

“It’s called a Ghost Eye,” she said, handing it to him. “Turn the knob.”

There was a small dial at the front, almost like an electric lantern back on Earth. He grabbed it and twisted. His stomach dropped, like he’d taken a step too quickly, and he released it with a gasp.

“Try again,” Breka said calmly.

He gritted his teeth and re-gripped the knob, keeping his core muscles tense as he twisted this time. The same sense of vertigo assaulted him, not fading even after he clicked the dial into its new position. “What,” he hissed, “is this?”

“A very interesting tool. It's deeply uncomfortable to use, but by activating the field you make yourself more difficult to notice. The effect isn’t potent, but the myr in the warren I’m sending you to are weak minded. Practicing this is your job for the rest of the night, then tomorrow you’ll use it to bypass any obstacles you can’t avoid through simple stealth.”

“By practice you just mean keep it on? Practice feeling the sensation?” The idea sent a shiver through his frame.

“Partly,” Breka said, “you’ll need to be able to act quickly even while feeling the wrongness. But the effect isn’t automatic, it’s a tool under your control. You’re going to walk around Tular until you can make a small yelping noise without anyone nearby paying you any mind.”

“I see,” Elliot said. Somehow looking like an idiot in public engendered an entirely different kind of fear than delving into a dangerous warren. “Excellent.”

“Swing back in a few hours and I’ll see how you’re getting on.”

He straightened his shoulders. A little embarrassment, a little danger, it doesn’t matter. Let’s do this.