Soul Caller 1 - Chapter 34 (Patreon)

Merrick sat quietly for nearly an hour, thinking over the advantages and disadvantages of each choice, trying to consider as many different scenarios as he could and which skill would be the best. Finally, he came to the realization that none of the skills would help him as much as being able to remain unseen, and so he increased Serpent’s Stealth to level two. As the skill was improved he felt his body grow still, as if he was transforming into rock. It took a moment for him to get used to, but he quickly realized that all the tiny movements his body used to make had vanished, and now, when he remained still, his body was truly still, just like a snake hiding among the brush.

Excited to test out his new skills, Merrick headed into the canyon the next day. He could immediately tell the difference as Land Strider kicked in. His feet moved smoother through the snow than ever before. If before his body had an instinctive understanding of how to walk and run, that understanding had now grown tremendously. He seemed to pass unhindered through even the deepest snow, as if he was one with the land, making it feel like he was passing over clear ground. Furthermore, his body held a certain stillness, and when he stopped, he found it easy to hide his breath, allowing him to naturally blend in with his surroundings.

When he waited in his perch among the boulders, he felt as if he had become one with the rock, and was even surprised when a hawk, who had been circling overhead for almost an hour, landed on a nearby stone to rest. Shifting to get a better look at it, he startled the bird, who had not seen him, and with a screech, the hawk took off, flying high into the sky. Merrick's new wolf-skin coat helped him blend in with the surroundings, and he now possessed an instinctive knowledge of how best to hide himself.

Though he didn't get any deer that day, he was quite encouraged by the experience, and ranged out further the following day, moving silently through the snowy fields and hiding among the copses of trees until he spotted a few deer traveling together. Instead of shooting with his rifle, he decided to test the full extent of his new stealth skill, and worked his way downwind, using the swell of the land to keep himself hidden. Behind a small snowbank, he peeked over, and saw the deer were actually heading his direction. Keeping himself absolutely still, he watched in awe as the skittish creatures passed within fifteen feet of him, moving quickly as they sought the safety of the next group of trees. It wasn't until they had gotten nearly thirty feet downwind that they smelled the fur he wore, and took off running. Watching them go, Merrick could only shake his head. The skills that he was acquiring were almost magical in their effect, and he was astounded at what they allowed him to do.

Having tested his new stealth skill, he set out to put it to good use, and within a few hours, had dropped a large doe. Taking a moment to ensure that there were no predators around waiting to ambush him, he dressed the deer, and carried it back to camp, quickly skinning it with a deft hand, and tacking out the hide to dry. He was finding himself much more adept at these sorts of things, which he attributed to his deeper connection to the Song of the World, and it was gratifying to watch his skill grow. Days passed, one after the other, and apart from the occasional snowstorm which forced him to stay inside, Merrick spent most of his days ranging out in the canyon. He didn't hunt every day, and would often take a few hours to simply sit and observe the canyon, watching as the wildlife went about its way. There was something that called to his spirit in the white world of the canyon, and he was content to simply exist as part of it.

One day, emerging from his cave, he realized that the texture of the snow had changed slightly. The sun’s rays had been getting warmer and brighter as the winter clouds began to fade away, and the storms were growing less and less frequent, heralding the coming of spring. The following day he saw something that astonished him. In the distance, there seemed to be a patch of green that he had not noticed before. For the next week, he didn't hunt, but watched in wonder as the snow began to rapidly melt, seeming to vanish as fast as it had arrived. Spring had come.

Soon the trees were beginning to bud, and the grass shone a bright green, springing up from dead tufts to wave proudly in the air. From the desolate winter landscape, life seemed to spring forth with incredible vibrancy. The heavy wolf-skin coat he had been wearing quickly grew too warm and had to be left back at his camp. The birds and the animals became more active, no longer locked in a fight with the bitter cold, and hunting became easier. Still, Merrick did his best to keep his hunting to a minimum, only taking what he truly needed. He had survived on nothing but meat for the last few months, and it was with some relief that he started collecting wild vegetables to add to his food. Just like the meat he had cleaned, he soaked them in the glowing water to eliminate any poison before stewing them with chunks of venison and wild boar.

He had explored much of the valley during the winter, and now he continued his exploration, coming to learn about the valley in a new season. The dips and rises of the land were the same, but they took on a new edge, a new facet, as he got to know their springtime form. The river at the bottom of the canyon swelled into a raging torrent as the ice melt flowed into it, and Merrick saw fish jumping in its fast-moving waters more than once. His wanderings took him to the hill where he had made his stand against the wolves, and there he found the broken remains of the tent he had set up, marked by teeth and claws. Packing its remains together, he put it in his bag, not wanting to spoil the wilderness, and made his way down to the pool where he had shot the old doe. There he found a half-buried skull bone, all that remained of the once noble creature. Bowing his head, he gave thanks to the spirit, and then crouched to drink from the pool of water, marveling at the brilliance of life.

What he saw surprised him. Only six months had passed since he had left the village but Merrick could see the undeniable change his time in the canyon had wrought. There was a firmness about him that had not existed before. He remembered coming into the canyon bright-eyed and full of curiosity. And that curiosity still remained, but now it was reserved, hidden behind a layer of wariness. The change was greatest in his eyes, which appeared colder than he remembered. Once again, seeing his reflection, he was struck by the similarity to the great Warrior of his dreams, and this time he didn't laugh. It was clear that the world was making its mark on him, just as much as he was making his mark on it.

Standing, Merrick turned, his eyes flickering across the landscape before stopping at the top of the hill. There he saw a large wolf staring down at him, its ribs clearly visible in its lean sides. Slowly, his hand went to the rifle on his shoulder, pulling it into the crook of his arm. He didn't move as he stared at the wolf, assessing it. It was doing the same to him, and as another wolf trotted into sight, into view, Merrick found himself remaining surprisingly calm. His last encounter with the wolves had nearly turned deadly, but for some reason, he was no longer afraid. He could instinctively tell that the wolves didn't have any desire to tangle with him, just as he was content to leave them alone, and after a long look, they turned and trotted off into the brush, soon joined by four others.

Watching them go, Merrick felt a wide smile tugging at the corners of his lips. In all the time he had spent in the village, he could never say that he had truly felt at home. But now, here, in this wild land, he understood his place. Still, he wanted to respect the wolves, and so he gave them a wide berth, circling around the opposite side of the hill as he headed back towards the mine. Though spring had come to the canyon, the higher reaches of the mountains would still be chock full of snow, and the passes wouldn't be open for another month or two. Furthermore, heavy spring rain would soon arrive, and Merrick wanted to be ready. There was still much to do to prepare for his trip home, and so Merrick got to work.

First on his list was getting better at using his rifle. He had a nearly unlimited supply of manastones, and he spent a little bit of time every day gathering more. He didn't touch most of the manastones in the river, because he didn't know if removing them would change the composition of the water. Instead, he dug them out of the cave, cleaning them off and piling them up until he had a gigantic stack. The earth that encased the smooth manastones was easy to remove, seeming to lack some vitality, as if all of the mana it contained had been collected in the manastone itself. With a simple press of his fingers, it would crumble away, leaving a smooth oval stone behind. It was these egg-like stones that Merrick piled up, until he estimated he had collected nearly 10,000 of them.

At the same time, he began to prepare another set of boots, wanting something to protect his feet as he crossed the mountains. Though he preferred going barefoot, snakes and scorpions were always a challenge, and if he was traveling solo, he wanted some sort of protection against them. He also created a new pair of pants that he could tuck into the boots, and a simple tunic with a hood to ward off the rain. He had been experimenting with creating a few more weapons as well, after realizing that he lacked a good defense against high numbers of enemies. After spending a few weeks practicing shooting his rifle, Merrick realized that he had driven nearly all of the game in his end of the canyon all the way to the other end, as the continuous crack of his rifle scared them away.

That made him realize the need for a quieter weapon, so he decided to fashion himself a bow. He and his friends, when young, had spent their time creating basic bows as they pretended to hunt, and so it wasn't hard for him to recreate that experience. Finding some young saplings that were thick enough, he cut them down and began to treat them, hardening the staves over the fire, before fashioning them into a simple bow that he reinforced with strips of bone. He had plenty of bone to work with, and so he began to carve them into arrowheads, creating a few dozen arrows using the feathers he had collected from a few hawks he had shot down.

It was a fun exercise, but when he was done, he found himself slightly disappointed by his bow's power and accuracy, which paled in comparison to his manatech rifle. That was to be expected, of course, and since he was not nearly as good at hunting with the bow as he was with his throwing spears or his rifle he began to practice with it, eventually finding the knack and learning how to shoot an arrow almost a hundred feet with a high degree of accuracy. Taking it out with him when he went hunting, he was able to bring down a deer with a well-placed shot at 150 feet and decided that was good enough.

Time passed quickly as he worked to get ready for his trip and it was soon time to leave the canyon. High up in the mountains he could see the snow starting to recede, showing the bare stone caps of the tall peaks, and one morning when he awoke, he decided to make his first attempt. His thought was that he would head up into the mountains to scout the path that he would take back to the village before returning to gather all of his supplies. He wanted to make sure that he was not uprooting his base of operations before finding the route he would take home, as he wasn't even sure if the passes could be used.

Gathering his things, he had just stepped out of the cave and begun the walk toward the long slope leading up to the top of the canyon wall when a faint sound tickled his ears. Instantly, he stopped, his eyes narrowing as he focused his attention, attuning himself to the Song of the World. At first he heard nothing out of the ordinary, and his ears were filled with the sounds of the birds and insects, but he remained still, confident that he had not been imagining it. Nearly a minute later he heard it again, faint, echoing through the air like the snapping of a twig, but from a long distance away. He wasn't even sure that he was hearing the sound directly as much as sensing it through the ripple it caused in the Song of the World. As it faded away he grew absolutely certain that he knew exactly what it was. A rifle shot.

Emotion flooded through Merrick's body as he realized what it meant. Vale had left right before winter hit, and if he had made it through the mountains and back to his people, he was undoubtedly returning with more prospectors. And if not Vale, then it could be another prospecting group hunting for the manastone mine. Deep anger flared in Merrick's heart as he thought about the dark haired prospector, followed by a flash of choking fear as his body recalled the grievous wounds he had suffered at Vale’s hands. Slowly he pushed the feelings aside and crouched where he was, placing his heavy pack on the ground.

The thought of the prospectors finding the mine made his stomach turn, though he didn’t understand exactly why that was the case, and a deep resolve formed in his mind. The strangers had shown no hesitation in betraying him and killing Barak, and had even been willing to kill their own tribe member, a mortal taboo among the people, so he would treat them as the enemies they were. Tamping down the rising emotions that clouded his thinking and taking a stabilizing breath, Merrick set his mind to work.