Chapter 38: Dreams (Patreon)

Elliot kept his staff moving, alternating strikes between the stone golem’s knees, ankles, and elbows. Three months of training had yielded improvement. [Golden Touch] was faster now, taking only twenty seconds to fully charge, and its effectiveness was now around a sixty percent boost—although only with his staff. Other enchantments could be improved by roughly fifteen percent. Each charge lasted longer now too, able to empower the item for several minutes at a time before needing to be recharged. Sometimes it felt like he could watch Breka’s strategy working in real time: the skill shifting easily as it had never been fit into its normal mold. It was progressing significantly faster than the freeform improvements to [Esoteric Storage], although Breka had assured him that the difficulty of spatial manipulation itself was the main difference.

The hulking, humanoid pile of rocks was slow, but not as slow as Elliot had first assumed, forcing him to keep his feet moving as quickly as his staff. The strikes seemed to be having no effect, but he knew from previous experience in this warren that enough blunt force shots right over the joints would eventually render it unable to walk, and then he could move on without needing to finish it. Avoiding kills was still his first priority—after not dying—with his focus on gaining as much experience as possible through his profession.

Breka had been sending him from warren to warren practically as fast as he could clear them. With his capacity for combat finally at a level beyond complete incompetence, the number of survivable options had increased dramatically. Part of him wondered if constantly flying around the Gerrwood on a broadback was drawing unwanted attention given the fact that Breka was supposed to be a small-time merchant, but with the increasing frequency of Talessi attacks, secrecy seemed to have shifted to at best a second or third priority. Breka and Hadrian were almost always gone except for a few hours of training in the morning, and Hadrian was returning injured more and more frequently.

The stone myr swung its arm in a wide arc, forcing Elliot to throw himself into a roll. As the blow went wide, the golem took a long step forward to regain balance, and something finally gave out. Its knee joint collapsed with a grinding crunch and it landed face down on the ground, thrashing awkwardly.

Elliot jumped over its splayed legs and continued up the tunnel. The walls were dark, and almost completely covered with a green, moss-like plant that he’d appraised as depths lichen. A glowstone lantern hanging from his waist was the only source of light. This has to be it.

Reaching into his spatial pocket—currently anchored to a small pouch at his waist—he grabbed a long, rune-covered metal rod. He’d taken the third step recently, and although there were no new abilities, he was still quite pleased with the upgrade to [Esoteric Storage]. His spatial pocket was now significantly more deformable, although it retained the same hundred and twenty-five cubic inches of volume.

The possibilities that emerged from the change finally made it useful. By adjusting the pocket to be as thin and deep as possible, he could fit things that were several feet long—if they were skinny. Someday, if his control grew fine enough, he could imagine making a gourd shape with a pinhole access point, allowing him to store something almost invisibly until widening the opening again to retrieve it.

The metal rod was a dowsing tool, currently serving double duty as his practice item for [Golden Touch] and as a guide toward the center of this maze of a warren. It had been the work of several hours to push this far, the rod only providing vaguely trustworthy information about the complex twists, crossbacks, and dead ends all around him.

Reaching another bifurcation, he paused and let out a sharp huff of air. Everything here was damp, and smelled vaguely of mold and sulfur. The enemies were tiring to disable, there was absolutely nothing to provide ambient light, and this entire ordeal was all for Breka’s vague sense that whatever resource waited at the center of the warren would actually be classified as an antique, and thus be useful for professional experience. Eighty percent of what he’d recovered over the last few months didn’t fit the criteria, despite her frequent confidence.

Crouching down, Elliot waved the rod slowly between both paths. There was a frustratingly faint sense of it catching on something, but for the life of him he couldn’t decide if it was stronger to the left or right. Scowling, he let the rod point towards the ground, and lost the sense of connection. This had really seemed like it might be the final passage before the treasure room.

He pulled out his notebook, glancing at the mess of partial diagrams and crossed out guesses about passage alignment, then sighed and flipped several pages forward, beginning to write.

Rowan,

I’m having a rough time with this one. I wish I could just give you a call. You would think of some kind of plan. This warren better give me something good, something that counts as an antique and is valuable enough to let me take another step. I’m tired of waiting. I miss you. I hope you’re okay.

Love,

Elliot

He put the pencil and pad away. The practice of writing little notes to his sister had been Yehi’s suggestion after he’d admitted to struggling more and more with Rowan’s absence. It had felt silly at first, but he did find the sadness less cutting since starting.

Raising the rod again, he forced his breathing to slow, and tried to feel the sensation as deeply as possible. Was it twitching more when pointing to the left? Every time he thought he had it figured out, it would twitch the other way. He gritted his teeth. Breathe, Elliot. Breathe.

He felt a sharp pang of longing for [Detailed Appraisal]. If there was some way to use his favorite skill to assess both tunnels, he was confident the vortex would spit out the answer in no time. It just wasn’t the correct tool, though. Whatever fragments of directional guidance he could squeeze out of the dowsing rod would have to do.

Unless…he tilted his head. It was the vortex that made [Detailed Appraisal] such a powerful ability. Diligent practice obviously played a role, and he felt like he had a talent for the puzzle solving involved, but it would be a lie to say that the vortex wasn’t the key factor.

Letting himself focus on the rod again, he tried to sink into the feeling of resonance, still unable to make out which direction had the stronger pull. Was there any way he could use the vortex? He’d always seen it as part of using [Detailed Appraisal], but Hypatia had made it seem like it was something present in his head, not directly related to the skill at all.

Focusing inwards, he squeezed the part of his brain where he usually felt the swirling force, imagining it grinding away like a millwheel. It was awkward to visualize without activating [Detailed Appraisal], something about the broken pattern throwing him off.

Elliot tried several more times without positive results, eventually flopping down to the ground and letting out a soft groan. I should just pick one. This is taking forever. The last time he’d made a random guess it had forced him to swim through a frigid underground lake though, and the memory was enough to make him pause.

Lifting the rod, he pointed it towards the left passage. It’s an information gathering skill. There must be an energy flow, just like [Detailed Appraisal]. You just can’t sense it because it’s not your ability. Focus. Elliot placed his other hand at the back of his upper neck, then imagined spinning the vortex as hard as he could, visualizing it catching on an invisible string of energy.

Pain spiked in his skull, and the rod vibrated again, but this time there was more than just a vague impression. The left passage would lead to the center of the maze, but only after an arduous journey. Shifting the metal tool towards the right passage, he pulled, and knowledge continued to flow. That way led to the center, and quickly.

Grinning, he stood and strode forward. So it does work with information-gathering enchantments. That should mean I can use it with new information-gathering abilities, if I get them. That’s interesting.

As promised, the core cavern was only a few hundred feet down the right path, without even another golem to bar the way. It was an empty oval of rough stone, with an alcove against the back wall. Inside was a book, its thick leather cover dyed purple and black.

He whistled softly. Grik would love this. Activating [Detailed Appraisal], he spun the vortex. The book was a grimoire that had been buried with its owner several centuries ago, and when this warren popped up it had incorporated the crypt and the book with it. It was a treatise on several local species of bats that would naturally update as things like population density and habitat distribution shifted.

Absolutely useless for combat, but absolutely wonderful for Elliot, because it would certainly count as an antique. A pretty fun grimoire to have kept under other circumstances, but that wasn’t important right now.

This could be the push to the next step.

Stowing it away in the pack slung over his shoulder, he rose and stretched. It was time to be done with this warren.

***

Several hours and a broadback ride later Elliot was bathed, changed, and exhausted. He stepped out onto the deck of the Overlook, which had become his go-to spot to sit and think. Picking out a table and signaling a waiter, he collapsed into the chair with a heavy sigh.

It was late evening, and the establishment kept the lighting dim. Clouds of mist shone silver below, the falls reflecting starlight with surprising brightness. Elliot pulled out his pad and pencil and began to sketch.

Breka and Hadrian had been gone when he’d arrived back at the inn, so handing over the grimoire was going to have to wait. Yehi was off with a hired guard for several days to hunt down new hides, and Olivia and Hrolf had left for the next freeholt north—Sostus—a month ago.

The waiter dropped off his tea: a minty green that had become his usual order. He took a slow, deep sip, closing his eyes. That’s amazing. I’m going to have to see if they sell that in loose leaf for when we leave.

Not that he had any idea when that would be. The thought made his eye twitch. Despite becoming more fully a part of Hadrian and Breka’s little group, he was still largely in the dark about what was going on. The attacks had become more frequent, and they were constantly busy, but whether it would be time to wrap up and move on in a day, a month, or more was completely opaque to him.

Grik was gone now as well, having set off into the Gerrwood less than a month ago after receiving a tip about a new warren. The book merchant explored much more powerful and rewarding sites than Elliot, so options were thinner on the ground, and he spent as much time researching and exploring as he did actually delving. He’d claimed the excursion would be short, but the sparkle in his eye as he marched off into the wilds made Elliot doubtful.

Most of Elliot’s time was spent working, but when the exhaustion and danger became too much to handle and it felt like he was going to come apart at the seams, the Mapmakers Guild had become a place of refuge. It had started as a search for any more scraps about the southern reaches of the continent—progress had been sparse—but it was a peaceful place to sit and read, and over time he’d become a bit of a regular.

“And that makes you twice the fool, my friend,” someone said loudly right behind Elliot, making him start and glance over his shoulder. Two men, dressed in simple travel gear with packs at their feet, were drinking ale and gesticulating wildly.

“I think not,” the second man said with a frown, “There are Talessi husks in the woods. I have a friend who heard it directly from a guard. More and more Sunsguard are arriving, the Greenguard outpost was attacked again, and there’s even rumors of a Remmiran legion on the way. What else do you need to see? The Bloodflame Queen?”

“Talessi husks,” the first man said with a slight slur, “are absolutely not here. That is, in fact, ridiculous. And I’ll believe there’s a legion on the way to the Gerrwood when the falls start flowing up. Morons are always talking about something. It’s bandits, it’s always bandits.”

“Believe what you want. I’m getting out of town as soon as possible.”

The first man took another long, messy swig from his tankard, followed by a burp. “Say you’re even a bit right. Say it’s the Talessi. Why in the world would they bring husks? You think they’re going to war right on the edge of the Broken March? Syreen is thousands of miles southeast. The whole rumor makes no sense at all. They’re mercenaries. We all know they hate the March, and of course they’d love to see us all dead, but first and foremost they work for gold. To bring out their heavy hitters this close to Remmir is asking for death. It wouldn’t take the Bloodflame Queen descending from Andaluse, Remmir alone has the strength to destroy whatever paltry forces they could muster this far from home, and for what?”

“You always think you know best,” the other man muttered, taking his own swig, “but we’ll see, that’s all I’m saying. We’ll see. You’re wrong more than you’ll admit. Like with the pigs.”

Elliot frowned, turning his focus back to the falls as the two men began shouting about an older disagreement. He knew rumors were swirling, but this was the first time he’d heard them in person. Things must have gotten even more out of hand.

And then there were the dreams. He shivered. Four times in the past month, the figurine had appeared to him in his sleep. Its appearance was the same as in life, predatory bovine features carved in dark crystal. There was a vast plain of gray slate under a star-strewn void, dark clouds in the distance, and the statue itself sitting on a plinth right in front of Elliot’s face.

Nothing ever happened, the stress of the experience eventually enough to snap him awake, but every time he woke up extremely disquieted.

Rising, he tossed a few clips on the table and headed back to the inn, appetite gone. Hopefully Breka would be back by tomorrow.