Junfa April: Chapters 21-25 (Patreon)

Chapter 21

“I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, Grant.  Please go away.”  Grant ignored Reimaria, sitting down gingerly on the ground next to her.  “Thank you for finding my mace, and trying to save us.  It was a valiant effort, really.  But I would like to be left to my own thoughts.”

“When I found your weapon, I thought you were eaten.”  He motioned with his hand at the cracked walls.  “This may look like the end, but we have all faced the end of our stories several times today already.  We will find a way out of here, and everything will be okay.”

“Okay?”  Reimaria sat up straight and thrust her hand at Grant’s face.  “Is this ever going to be okay?”  It was wrapped in a dirty bandage fashioned from somebody’s clothing, and only her thumb and first finger were still there.  “I’m a Vassal who can’t hold her weapon anymore.  Even if we do make it out of here, it doesn’t matter.  My life is over.”

“That isn’t true.”  Grant pointed to the tunnel they sat next to.  “I killed that old Greenlock with a spell, not my sword.”  Then he pointed to the back of his upper arm, where the deep gash he had torn open was scabbed over.  “I couldn’t even use my right arm for most of the fight against one of the big ones that looked after the eggs.  All it takes is practice, and you can learn to fight a different way.”

“Maybe in your soft Spring lands, but not here in Summer.  Every Vassal is important.”  Reimaria dropped her hands on her lap.  “They will give my spot to someone else.  I’ll have to work doing a different job, and never get the time or training to earn my weapon back.”

“Not with that attitude, you won’t.  What about your friend Fotur?  He didn’t get his weapon taken away when he got hurt.”  Grant patted his sword.  “All you need to do is set aside an hour or two every night, and -”

“Fotur only had a minor injury.  He wasn’t maimed.”  Reimaria stood up and looked down at Grant.  “This is your fault anyway.  If you hadn’t run off and left your team, we could have fought them off together and I would still have my hand.”  She glowered at him as a tear fell through the dirt on her face.  “It doesn’t matter, anyway.  We are going to run out of air, and all die in our sleep.  Just like when the Greenlock had us.  Our families won’t know what happened to us, and the wagon train will -”

“Shut up.”  Grant held up a hand, and leaned toward the tunnel opening.  Reimaria’s face screwed up in anger, and she opened her mouth to let Grant know how much she didn’t appreciate him telling her to be quiet.  “Listen!  Do you smell something?”  She closed her mouth, and Grant stood up so they could shuffle over to inspect the tunnel.

“I think… I think I smell smoke.”  Reimaria hefted her mace in her left hand.  “You go and get Junfa April, I’ll stand guard.  If the Greenlock are up to something, we don’t want them to know that we-”

“Hey!  Junfa April!  Come over here!”  Grant waved his hand to the Wielder, where she was having a small conference with the Warden.  “I think something’s going on over here!”

“We don’t want them to know that we have noticed.”  Reimaria finished her sentence in a deadpan tone.  “You might be the densest person I have ever met.”

“Thanks.  You’re pretty hard too.”  Grant took her compliment in stride, and walked deeper into the cave.  “I can definitely smell something burning, but I don’t know where it’s coming from.”

“I smell it too.”  Junfa April brightened the glow from her whips, allowing them to see into the whole cavern for the first time.  It was much smaller than the central mine area, but still much larger than any of the storage rooms.  The sides of the whole thing were cluttered with the bones, fur, and mummified corpses of past victims, and a thick layer of webbing coated most of the ceiling and walls.  “But where is it coming from?”

“Follow the water.”  The Warden was holding out his hand, using some kind of sensing ability to feel where the thin trickle that came into the room went.  “It has to drain somewhere.”

The sudden activity of their leader had everyone interested in what was going on, and in short order there was a chain of people helping move the disgusting contents out of the way.  After searching through the disgusting mixture, they eventually uncovered a hole in the wall barely large enough for a human to crawl through.  The faint smell of smoke was almost drowned out by the dirty water and stirred up stink from the Greenlock’s past meals, but everyone confirmed it was there.

“Well, it doesn’t look like we will suffocate at least.”  Skor poked his head in the hole, trying to see how deep it might go.  “No telling if we can go this way.  Seems like a job for a scout.”  He looked around for a volunteer, and Grant stepped forward.  “Not you.  You’re too big.”  Skor pointed behind Grant.  “Get in there.  Time to go to work.”  Grant turned around and saw a wide-eyed Reimaria standing with her mouth open in shock.

“But, but I-”  She motioned with her maimed hand, as if to say it was impossible.  “I’m not fit to be a Vassal anymore.  I can’t be a scout if I can’t fight.”

“Bah, that’s just a flesh wound.”  Skor pointed to the hole again.  “Plenty of people fight without all their parts.  Besides, your job isn’t to fight right now.  You gotta use your eyes, and your brains, to figure out how to save all these people.”  He waved his hand, as if to encompass everyone.  “That’s the job description of a scout if I’ve ever heard one.  You gonna do your job?”

“Yes, Team Leader.”  Reimaria straightened her back for the first time since Grant had seen her down here.  “I’ll do my job.”

<Take notes, Grant.  That was how a leader motivates his people.>  Grant saw Junfa April give a short nod of approval to Skor, who didn’t respond while Reimaria could still see him.  <If you succeed, one day you will be the Calendar King.  Knowing how to delegate to the proper people at the proper time is a benchmark of all good leaders.  I expect my students to become great ones.>

Reimaria disappeared into the hole, forced to crouch low to fit inside.  The rest of the survivors just stood there, all of them in silent vigil of her mission.  Everyone understood there were a dozen ways she could die in the lightless tunnels, and none of them would be an easy way to go.

Time seemed to crawl by, and Junfa April was forced to lower the light her whips emitted to just one.  The encroaching darkness seemed to push down on everyone, and in the silence the sound of scrabbling Greenlock legs seemed to come from everywhere.  It was really just dust occasionally falling from the cracks in the ceiling, but it still had everyone on pins and needles.

“I heard a noise.”  Sokkur had been standing vigil right next to the opening, almost wringing his hands with worry.  “Something is coming.”

Junfa April’s whips stirred to their full brightness, and Grant shifted to be able to use his Iaijutsu on the first thing that came through.  The familiar white hair and hunched figure of April Tenth popped out instead of a Greenlock, causing everyone to let out the breath they had been holding.

“Good to see you made it, but there isn’t time for congratulations.  The fire you wanted me to set worked too well.  The way out won’t be there if we don’t hurry.”  April Tenth didn’t even wait for a reply, he just turned around and disappeared back into the dark tunnel.

<Well, he doesn’t mess around, does he?>  Grant almost snickered at Sarge’s comment, but he turned it into a cough at the last second.

Junfa April quickly had everyone moving, choosing to lead the way so people could see where they were going.  Grant, Skor, and the Warden brought up the rear.  All three of them had to help the occasional Fanatic as they stumbled through the narrow tunnel, and more than one person slipped on the wet stone as they made their way out of the mine.

After several minutes of travel, the tunnel split into two directions, the water going deeper while the one to the left angled upward.  Grant could see the flickering light of a fire, and the smoke in the air got thicker as the people in front of him picked up speed now that they could see.

“Crouch low, mate.  The air is cleaner down here.”  Skor was almost crawling on all fours, and several people started to cough as the smoke grew denser.  “We have to be getting close.”

The temperature got higher, and Grant started to sweat.  Without having to prompt anyone, the line of people started moving faster.  Finally, they made it back to the surface, everyone coughing and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Get those who can’t run loaded on the wagon.  We need to get out of here.”  April Tenth was waiting for them next to a large flatbed wagon pulled by eight Saunterlings.  They were practically dancing in their traces, ready to bolt before the flames came for them.

Against Grant’s will, he was loaded up with several others.  Secretly, he was thankful that he didn’t have to run, but Grant wanted to keep up appearances.  As he settled against the rear of the wagon seat, he looked back to see where they had come out.

The tunnel exit had been on the side of one of the ravines that stretched throughout the area. It was farther from the ruins than where the Greenlock had tried to split the convoy, but not by much.  As they rolled away, Grant could finally see what had happened to the former town of Eggerton.

<I don’t think people are going to have to worry about the Greenlock anymore.>  Sarge seemed to be in as much awe as Grant felt.  The entire horizon was a field of flames, and in the center of them the faint outlines of the buildings served as backdrop to the destruction that spread for miles.  By the time the flames died out, there would be no sign that the city had ever been there, beyond the jumbled stones where a mining community existed long ago.  While they watched, one of the ruined buildings that had stood for generations fell over, shooting sparks into the night sky.

For some reason, Grant felt a profound sense of sadness.  Not for the death of all those spiders, or for the fiery destruction of the former town, of course.  No, Grant could somehow feel an echo of the end of the town that the original inhabitants must have witnessed.  It was the death of a way of life the people of District April hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

<If you become the Calendar King, you can stop all of this.  You started this quest because you wanted to save your own life.  Now, you can see how many lives truly depend on your success.  Train hard, Earl Spring. More than your own future is at stake.>  The embers of the flame that had been lit in Grant’s chest when Team Three had been taken were reignited with purpose.  It was a reflection of the burning town behind him, and Grant embraced the heat they gave to this determination.

“We made it, mate!”  Shocked out of his contemplation, Grant looked over to see Sokkur running beside the wagon.  He pumped his fist in victory.  “Those spiders didn’t know not to mess with us, huh?”  In his enthusiasm, the large warrior reached out and punched Grant in the chest, one warrior congratulating another on a mighty victory.  Unfortunately for Grant, his collarbone wasn’t healed enough to handle the friendly punch.  The spike of pain that accompanied the sound of snapping bone was the last thing he felt as Grant passed out.

Chapter 22

“It shouldn’t be much longer, Junfa April.  The herbs in my grandmother’s tea recipe always do the trick.”  Grant recognized the Warden’s voice, and he tried to open his eyes.  The stabbing pain of bright sunlight greeted him, making Grant squint against the discomfort.  From the background noise, he was riding on the back of a wagon as it trundled across the plains.  “Oh, I think it’s already working.  He tried to open his eyes.”

"Wake up, mate!  You have been sleeping for two days!"  Grant shifted and saw the blurry outline of Sokkur.  "Sorry about the punch and all. I didn't know how bad off you were."

"Grant fought through multiple injuries.  It would be best if you all took a lesson from his show of grit and determination.”  Junfa April shifted position to block the sun, so Grant could finally see what was going on around him.  “Now, I think we should give him some space, and allow him the chance to gather himself.”

Grant sat up, and was relieved to not feel any serious pain.  His stomach growled in anger, and Sokkur thrust a paper sack in his face.

“I grabbed this for you.”  The Vassal almost reflexively went to thump Grant on the shoulder again, but stopped himself at the last second.  “Figured you might be hungry."

"Thanks."  Grant’s voice was scratchy, and he gratefully accepted a water skin from Junfa April.  "Where are we?"  The wagon train had obviously left the burning plains far behind, but they were now in a completely different area from the gently rolling plains.  Here, the grass was much longer, almost up to the shoulder of the people instead of the hip. It was much flatter, and a person could see for miles in all directions.

"We have moved far enough from the border region that we reached the true plains."  Junfa April shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight. "We should be able to make up for lost time now that the wagons can travel at normal speed."

“You’re saying we have been going slow?”  Grant tried to wrap his fuzzy brain around the idea.  The wagons had been traveling at a ground-eating pace the entire time, enough that running to keep up would exhaust him after a short time.  If what she was saying were true, Grant would have to sprint just to avoid falling behind if he wasn’t riding on a wagon.

“Our normal pace is definitely faster than what we have been going, but the big difference is not having to zig-zag around hills, or deal with crossing a bunch of minor streams.”  Skor reached out a hand to help Grant to his feet.  “We will have to cover a lot of ground to make it to the Conclave on time.”

“We are about to start moving, so I want our young Wielder to have one day of rest inside a house wagon.”  Skor gave a sharp nod at Junfa April’s order, indicating that he would take care of it.  She turned to look at Grant, who was gingerly stretching out his back.  “Rest well, because tomorrow we resume your training.”

“I can-”  Grant tried to protest, but was stopped by the upraised hand of Junfa April.  “But, my injuries-”  Grant tried to argue.  It was pointless.

“You have been force-fed healing herbs for two days.  Believe me, you need time to recover.”  Junfa April placed her hand gently on the shoulder that hadn’t recently been broken.  “Taking a day of rest is nothing to be ashamed of.  Besides, you can make up for it tomorrow when I send you out on patrol.  Your team doesn’t have a wagon anymore, so you will have to take one of the chariots, and the chariots are for mobile scouts, not rear guard.”

<She’s right, Grant.  Their healing herbs aren’t as efficient as an actual potion.>  Sarge thrummed in his sheath, and Grant felt a sense of relief coming from the sword spirit.  <You had me worried for a bit there.  A blood clot formed when your collarbone broke a second time, and I thought that was going to be the end.  Thankfully, one of their herbs meant to control inflammation served as a blood thinner, and you pulled through.>

“Come on, I’ll take you to my house.”  Skor started to lead Grant away, and the Warden, Sokkur, and Junfa April turned to discuss the day’s movement plan in low voices.  Sokkur already had a new shield to replace the one he had lost, but Skor was still carrying a ballista bolt.  The young Vassal received some terse orders, and sprinted for the head of the convoy.  Grant gathered up his armor left in a pile near where he had been resting, and he and Skor headed in the opposite direction, toward the rear.  “It’s just my brother and I, and he will be driving the wagon, so you will have the place to yourself.”

“Thank you.”  Grant wasn’t sure what else to say.  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to bouncing around in the back of a tiny house wagon as he choked on the dust stirred up by everyone in front of him, but he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.  “You know, I could still go with you on patrol.  I really do feel fine.”

“Nah, mate.  We aren’t even patrolling today.  Team Three is serving as runners until I get a new bow from my Wielder later tonight.”  Skor motioned to a chariot that blew past them, the Saunterling moving so fast that its legs were a blur.  “April Tenth has the scouts running deep patrols, so he can’t make one until we stop anyway.  It really tires them out when they make a new weapon, and he needs his strength.”

“Oh.  Well, I could help do that, then.  I don’t mind serving as a runner.”  Something inside Grant wanted him to help these people.  He had felt like he belonged here more than anywhere else in his life, and just sitting around made him feel more like a burden than a person who contributed to their group.

“Grant, I understand you want to help, but you don’t even know who the other Team Leaders are, let alone the patrol patterns and guard rotation times to pass on orders.”  Skor motioned to a bright yellow and blue wagon, the geometric designs carved along its length somehow making it seem to move while sitting still.  “Here we are, mate.  Home sweet home.”

“Ah, ya brought the hero to come see me, did ya?  You’re a right cobber, brother.  A right cobber.”  A man that was almost a twin to Skor walked over from fastening two Prairie Pullers to the wagon.  “Name’s Stigvel, mate.  True honor to meet ya.  An honor, I say.”  He pumped Grant’s hand up and down in a hearty handshake.  “People ‘round here are all talkin’ about what you and the Junfa did.  It’s good to meet ya, mate.”

“Um, thanks?”  Grant wasn’t sure how to take the praise.  It was weird to be seen in such a positive light.  It only cemented his feelings about finally finding a place where he felt like he belonged.  “I’m just here to rest for the day.  Junfa April won’t let me go back on patrol with the others yet.”

“Well, let me welcome ya to our humble home.”  Stigvel opened the door at the rear of the wagon and held it open for Grant to enter.  “Watch ya head, mate.  It’s a little low.”  When he walked in, Grant wasn’t sure what to expect, but this certainly wasn’t it.

“It’s… a house.”  After ducking through the entry, Grant was amazed to see how nice the interior happened to be.  The place had a full kitchen along the left side, a bathroom to his immediate right, and a loft with two beds at the front.  A very plush Meatball-hair couch sat opposite the kitchen, and windows lining the sides let in plenty of light.  The ceiling was a series of beams and pulleys that served no obvious purpose, beyond giving plenty of places for them to hang baskets of various food and sundry items.  “Wow.  This is a nice place.”

“If you would, please take your boots off.”  Skor had followed him in, while Stigvel left to finish preparing the wagon to move.  “Feel free to make yourself at home.  Everything is bolted down, so you shouldn’t have any problems if the wagon hits a bump.”

“Thank you.”  Grant took his boots off and placed them next to the door.  “I’m shocked to see how nice your house is.”  The countertops gleamed in the light, and there was nothing out of place.  “Are all of the wagons like this?”

“Just about.”  Skor opened a closet hidden under the small staircase that led to the loft and pulled out a pillow and blanket.  “A few of the larger wagons have a space for a classroom that allow the kids to get their lessons, and the medical wagon has rows of cots instead of a kitchen, but most are a lot like ours.”

“What are all the beams and things in the ceiling for?”  Grant pointed upwards, where the well-oiled gears and pulleys shined in the morning light.  “I don’t think I have ever seen anything like it before.”

“Oh, those are only a lost hope.  Pay them no mind.”  Skor laid out the bedding for Grant on the couch.  “Why don’t you lay down and get some rest.  I’ll be back at lunch to bring you a meal, and you can talk to my brother if you need anything before then.”  Skor motioned to a small window in the loft that would overlook the wagon seat where Stigvel would be sitting.  “He can at least tell you where things are if you need something.”

“Thank you again, Skor.  For everything.”  Grant fought down the urge to give the older man a hug.  He had never known a father figure beyond the evil Randall, and it made his chest feel tight when he thought of what it might have been like to grow up with Skor as his caretaker instead of a man that wished he was dead every day.

“Don’t mention it, mate.  You helped save me and mine, and will always be welcome in my home.”  The wizened warrior shuffled past Grant and opened the door to leave.  “It will be good to have you back tomorrow.  Make sure you rest well, because I have a feeling we will need you.”

As the door closed behind Skor, Grant sat down and started mending his dented and damaged armor using his utility spell.  Maybe it was a good thing they were giving him a day to rest, because the numerous rents in his armor made it more of a hindrance than a help.  After finishing, a disgusting pile of dirt and dried blood had formed on the floorboards, so Grant did his best to clean up his mess.  When he finished, he glanced out the window, wondering why the convoy wasn’t moving yet.  He was shocked to see the plains moving past his window at a steady clip.

“Wow.  This ride is smooth.”  The wagon hadn’t suffered a single bump, and considering the unfamiliar countryside, they had probably been moving ever since he had sat down to fix his armor.  “These guys really know their business.”

<I would venture a guess that they have mastered the art of wagon suspension.>  Sarge used his ability to highlight things in his vision to light up the pulleys and gears in the ceiling.  <The items in the ceiling speak of advanced engineering abilities at some point in their history, even if they go to waste on wagons at the moment.>

“Well, what should I do now?”  Grant wasn’t tired enough to take a nap, and didn’t know what else to do now that his armor was repaired.  “This place is too small to do any training.  I would hate to accidentally mess up the inside of their home by putting my Uchigata through a wall or something.”

<I have an idea.>  Sarge highlighted a hatch hidden behind a beam in the ceiling.  <Head up to the roof.  There will be plenty of room up there for you to train.>

Grant got his repaired armor back on, and went up to the loft area so he could climb out onto the beams.  It took a bit of struggling, but Grant made it through the hatch and pulled himself up on the roof.  The wind blasted him in the face, stealing his breath away.

<They weren’t lying when they said this convoy would move quickly.>  Sarge buzzed in his sheath with excitement.  <This is perfect.  It’s time to try and get you some more skills.>

“Let’s do this.”  Grant unsheathed his sword, turning his head to the side to get a fresh breath of air.  When he looked forward, a flock of orange Corrupted Preying Mantis were flying at his face.

<You will need to find a smooth pattern to keep the constructs from reaching you.  Once you have it, I want you to keep doing it until you can’t hold your sword up anymore.>  Grant gave a sharp nod of agreement, and parried the first construct to the side.  A swipe to the right knocked the next construct out of line, fouling up the next two attackers.  That meant a solid mass of three orange bugs slammed into him.  Even though they were just Sarge’s imaginary constructs, Grant still felt the impact like it was real.  <Shorter, more precise movements.  You need to keep them from hitting you, while also doing damage.  Otherwise, they will just come at you as a group once your sword is out of position.>

“Got it.”  Grant was fighting against the wind resistance, making his sword try to drift out of position in addition to making it harder to breathe.  “Again.”

The next series of blows put Grant so far out of position that he was at risk of falling off the roof.  Making all of his swings go from right to left definitely wasn’t the right pattern.  As he jerked away from the edge, he was greeted by the sight of waving grasses passing by in a blur.  The wagon he was riding on was on the far left of the convoy, and over a dozen wagons trailed behind in a staggered line.  If Grant fell, he would be trampled and run over before anyone could react.  This wasn’t the place to make a mistake.

Another series of sword swings felt closer to what Sarge was trying to get Grant to do.  A smooth, flowing series of strikes and parries that wouldn’t do a lot of damage, but would still make an enemy think before trying him again.

The fourth time was a disaster.  Grant thought he had it, but the last swing of his Uchigata missed striking off the limb of the construct headed for his shoulder, and instead knocked it into his face.  As Grant bounced along the roof of the wagon on his back, barely stopping himself from going over the edge, he let loose a sigh that was carried away by the wind.

“Man, resting sure is hard work.”

Chapter 23

By the time Skor came to check on Grant, he was dripping with sweat, doing his best to clean himself up with a bowl of water and a rag from the sink.

“Mate, have you been fighting with yourself in your sleep?”  Skor passed over another brown bag lunch from the rear door.  The convoy hadn’t stopped, but they had slowed down enough to easily pass out the meal.  He had jumped onto the back porch, and was standing in the open doorway while they trundled over the plains.  “Because I don’t think I have ever seen anyone sweat from a nap before.”

“Oh, people in District January get the sweats all the time.  Walking, napping, meat, all kinds of things.”  Grant said it offhand, not thinking about it.  After all, the oversized people in District January really did sweat a lot.  At the drop of a hat, even.  Grant distinctly recalled seeing someone sweat from having to bend over to pick up a hat on more than one occasion.

“You can sweat from meat?”  Skor’s face had screwed up in disbelief.  “I’ve never heard of that one.”

“Thank you for lunch.  You didn’t have to bring it to me.  I could have gotten it myself.”  Grant peeked inside the bag, happy to see a change from the normal mystery meat wrapped in pastry.  Today, it was a sandwich stuffed with thick slices of cured meat and cheeses, along with an assortment of fruit as a side.  “This looks amazing.”

“I think the cooks wanted to give you something special today.  After all, the Warden’s daughter works in the chuck wagons.”  Skor waved as he turned to leave.  “Careful not to get too sweaty from eating.  You January people sure are weird.”

Grant waved as he left, and sat down to enjoy his meal.  Sarge hadn’t said anything bad about his diet ever since entering District April, and it made a nice change from the past.

<Oh, that’s because almost all of the food from this district comes from high-level beasts.  It’s much better for your cultivation and recovery, compared to the Spring Districts.>  Sarge chuckled as Grant bit into the delicious sandwich, taking his time to savor the flavor contrasts from the different kinds of meats and cheeses.  <How much of that do you think is from the Greenlock you killed?>  Grant stopped chewing.  <With how fresh that is, I would guess at least half of the ingredients in your food come from the lobster claws of those things.>

“I don’t think I’m very hungry anymore.”  Grant put his half-eaten sandwich back in the bag and pulled out the fruit instead.  The grapes were tart, but the burst of flavor as he bit into them was refreshing.  “At least this fruit is safe.”

<Oh, for sure.  I think the undeveloped eggs of the Greenlock are packed with nutrients.  Definitely a delicacy any human would be glad to find.>  Grant managed to keep himself from gagging, but it was close.  He put the grape-shaped eggs back in the bag next to the sandwich, while deliberately not thinking about all the other food he had eaten so far in District April.  <Don’t be like that, Grant!  You need to eat to keep up your strength.>

“Maybe I’ll eat later, when I’m hungry enough not to care about where the food comes from.”  Grant put the bag of food next to the sink, and quickly made his way back onto the roof.  He looked around and noticed there were more people on the tops of the wagons around him, eating their lunch while the convoy was still moving at a pace that didn’t make the wind steal the breath from your lungs.  He tried not to wince as he saw a woman toss a grape-egg into the air and catch it in her mouth, the juice running down her chin as she bit into the fruit-like treat.  “Okay, time to train.  I need a distraction, and getting that skill is the best way to do it.”

<Fair enough.  Get your feet set, and we will start.>  Sarge must have felt bad for ruining his lunch, because he normally wouldn’t have given Grant the time to get properly set.  <Okay, remember, smooth and deliberate.  Blocking with damage, in a pattern you can repeat at will.>

“Got it.”  Grant crouched, ready to defend himself.  The next wave of orange bugs came on, and he deftly used his Iaijutsu.  By harnessing the momentum imparted by the skill, it allowed Grant to stab in quick succession, combining it with a deft flourish between positions that deflected any incoming strikes.  It was the speed increase he needed, and the system rewarded him for finally figuring out what he was missing.

Skill gained: Peach Flower Petal Flurry (1/3). This skill is designed to use a flurry of blows to throw off your enemies, and defend yourself from any attack. You have shown initial mastery! Congratulations!

Tier one effect: Must use Iaijutsu, combined with a series of sharp stabs and quick deflections, now your sword increases penetration and damage by 10%.  A flowering petal of after-images will allow fear to bloom in the heart of your foes, pollinating their doubts and implanting the roots of their defeat.

“Finally!”  Grant immediately performed the skill, unsheathing his sword in a swarm of quick stabs that would make any enemy step back from.  “This is great!”

<You don’t have the fast-twitch muscle memory to complete the skill without using Iaijutsu.  Eventually, that will change, but for now we will count it as good enough.>  Sarge paused, and Grant could feel him rummaging around in his head.  <Now I think it’s time for you to finally do as Junfa April and Skor wanted.  Go lay down and take a nap.>

“Sarge, do you think I really have time to just-”  The sword in his hand vibrated in warning.  Grant sheathed it and started for the hatch that led back into the wagon.  “Okay, okay, I get it.  I’ll take a break.”

<The quick succession of level-ups you received are still throwing your system off.  I think it will do you some good to let them settle before we try for your other skills.>  Sarge waited while Grant finished taking off his armor so he could lay down.  <Tomorrow, we will try to get the Parry and Counter skill.  You will need a real enemy to get it.  Oh, and a Thrust skill.  Something that will enhance your forward movement enough that you can close with an enemy faster than they expect.>

“Sounds good, Sarge.”  Grant was already drifting off.  He didn’t realize how tired he was until his head hit the pillow.  “I can’t wait to learn how to give my enemies a good thrusting.”

Chapter 24

“Morning, mate.”  Grant felt someone nudge his shoulder, and he sat up quickly.  “We decided to let you sleep.  I’m surprised you were able to make it through the whole night with my brother snoring like he does.”  Skor was shoving a bowl of oatmeal into Grant’s hands before he could even get his bearings.  His head throbbed from sleeping too long, and the light coming through the windows hurt his eyes.  “Gotta eat something, since you missed supper.”

“I don’t snore that loud.”  Stigvel was cleaning the dishes in the sink.  “You make me sound like I’m some beast trying to shake the wagon to bits.”

“Now that you mention it, you kind of remind me of a Meatball when it sleeps.  We are lucky our parents made such a sturdy wagon, otherwise you might pull the roof down on us.”  Skor nudged Grant, letting him in on the joke.  “One of these days, you might even attract one of the bulls.  They probably think a female is hiding in here or something.”

“Well, I will just have to leave the door open one of these nights.  I’m sure the Saunterlings think the same thing, but the poor things will be disappointed to know the thing they are smelling is your feet!”  Stigvel pointed to Skor’s boots over by the door.  “Those things could be a weapon.”

“Ha!  My feet don’t smell that bad.”  Skor lifted up his foot and shoved it toward his brother’s face.  “See?  They don’t smell any worse than your breath.”  Stigvel pretended to choke, falling onto the kitchen counter with a gasp.

Grant watched the two brothers goofing off, making the young Wielder’s chest ache for the things he never had.  Being an orphan hadn’t been a big deal to him, until he had been shown what it could be like to have the one thing he had been missing all of his life.  Family.

<Now isn’t the time to get melancholy, Grant.  Stay focused.  You can work on building a family of your own choosing later.  For now, you have to see your quest through to the end.>  Grant wiped his eyes and gave a sharp nod of agreement.  <Good.  You better get dressed, because I have a feeling you have a long day ahead of you.>

Throwing on his armor while trying to scarf down the piping-hot breakfast was a good way for Grant to get some early morning stretches in.  The two brothers kept acting like boys instead of old men, bringing a smile to Grant’s face.  Sarge was right.  One day, Grant would be able to choose his own family, and he hoped it would be close to this one.

“Chariot’s ready, Team Leader.”  Reimaria walked into the wagon, a thick leather bracer wrapped around her injured hand.  She was sporting a new mace, one with a longer shaft and a smaller bashing head.  It was covered in small spikes, like someone had hammered nails through the metal.  For some reason, Grant found it to be far more intimidating than the one she had carried before.  “We have orders to scout forward at top speed, and return at lunch to report.”

“Ah, RAT patrol, my favorite.”  Skor stopped trying to shove his foot into his brother’s ear, and grabbed a new bow from the closet under the stairs.  It was shorter than his last one, and the horn was a much brighter color.  The bow was thicker along the hand grip as well, and two sharp spikes of polished metal jutted from either end.  Grant figured Skor wouldn’t be quite as defenseless if a monster got too close this time around.  “How is the new mace working out for you?”

“It doesn’t hit as hard, but I do like the better reach.  My Wielder swapped my old one with the Vassal ranked below me, so I guess that means I got a demotion out of the deal.”  She flexed her maimed hand, showing off the leather wrappings that supported her grip.  “But I definitely see the potential this injury might give me, if I can just adapt to fighting a new way.”

“Well, that’s good.”  Skor hooked a quiver loaded with arrows to his belt, and after a moment of deliberation grabbed a second one and strung it on his back.  “You never know what can happen on a RAT patrol, so bring extra of everything.”

“Can you tell me what rats have to do with long patrols?”  Grant had killed plenty of giant rats in the past, so he wasn’t very concerned.  It was just odd to him that they named a patrol after them.  “I wouldn’t think killing rats takes that many arrows.”

“No, we aren’t patrolling for rats, we are doing a Rapid Advancement Team patrol.  It just means we will be without direct support from the convoy for an extended period of time.”  Skor pulled out an arrow that was thicker than the others from his quiver.  “If we get in serious trouble, we can shoot this into the sky and it will tell them where we are by the smoke it leaves behind.  Green means we are okay, red means we need help, and blue means to halt and wait for us to report.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”  Grant still didn’t understand why they called it that, but he figured it didn’t matter.  Apparently, Reimaria saw through his act.

“It’s also called a RAT patrol because we look like rats escaping a burning building.  Run really fast in one direction, away from your home, for as long as you can.”  She reached into her belt pouch and pulled out a small scroll.  “These are the written orders, along with the directions they want us to scout.”

“Sounds good.  Let’s go.”  Skor led the way, moving past Reimaria and jumping down off the tiny porch.  The oversized Saunterling hooked up to the chariot snorted as Grant passed by, startling a Meatball being dragged toward a supply wagon in the rear.  The giant bovine tossed the person holding on to the ring in its nose to the side, and quickly spun to see what had startled it.  Grant was right between the two.

“Run!”  Sokkur, who was already on the back of the chariot, tried to jump down between Grant and the massive beast.  He wasn’t used to his new shield yet, and it got caught on the safety straps meant to help hold passengers in place.  He ended up doing a face plant onto the rear of the chariot, only causing the Meatball to take another threatening step forward.

Grant tried to shuffle sideways, but the big walking slab of burger just followed his movements.  He didn’t want to put others in danger, so instead Grant moved to a spot quickly cleared of people trying to avoid the temperamental beast.  He crouched down, ready to use his Begonia Chop to kill the Meatball before being gored or trampled.

“Don’t kill it!  We need it to pull the chuck wagon!”  Grant couldn’t identify the speaker, but he was forced to adjust his strategy.  He didn’t want to miss out on a possible meal because of an accident involving a Meatball.  When it charged, he would try to jump over it.

All the excitement and shouting had the bovine ready to charge, and Grant could feel his heart beating in his chest.  As the bull-like creature took another step forward, Grant felt his Dao Seed respond to his predicament.  Which is when the Meatball snorted, and walked up like a giant dog looking for pets.

“What is going on?”  Junfa April had finally shown up, and the sight of Grant scratching the always-irritable and barely-tamed Meatball behind the ears was a sight she wasn’t prepared to deal with.  “Since when did the Meatballs start liking anyone?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe they like change?”  Grant tapped his chest, letting her know he was referencing his Dao Seed.

“Hm.  That’s very… interesting.”  Junfa April tapped her chin in thought.  “Didn’t the Prairie Pullers - the placid, perfectly patient creatures - try to kill you?”

“Yes?”  Grant had to lean back to avoid being licked by the Meatball.  “I thought I just found a grumpy one.”

“There is no such thing as a grumpy Prairie Puller.”  Junfa April motioned for someone to lead the Meatball away.  As they complied, she walked over to Grant.  “I think something about your Dao Seed is affecting the animals.”

“Maybe the Prairie Pullers don’t like change?  They prefer routine, and the Meatballs like things to be different?”  Grant shrugged, just as confused as everyone else.  “I mean, the Meatballs didn’t like me until my Dao Seed activated.  What else could it be?”

“Oh, plenty of things.  But, maybe it is just that simple.”  Junfa April turned to leave.  “I’ll let you get back on mission, but we can experiment after your training this evening.”

“Sure.  I’m positive that it won't end badly.”  Grant jumped on the back of the chariot, ready to start the day.

<You know you just cursed yourself, right?>  Grant sighed at Sarge’s words.  When would he ever learn?

Chapter 25

The chariot ride was much bumpier than Grant’s journey inside the house wagon.  He almost bit the tip of his tongue off when he tried to say something to Sokkur, who was sitting on the back of the chariot next to him.  Running a long-distance patrol meant that they had to traverse land not already partially flattened by the front wagons, and the tall grasses hid any bumps or folds in the earth that might cause a jarring bump.

<Some days, I am happy to be a sword spirit.>  Grant winced as the chariot dropped out from under him, and his tailbone slammed back onto it with bruising force.  <Yes, very happy to be a sword spirit.>

“Marker one!”  Skor shouted over his shoulder, and was pointing to a small pond off to their right.  “Prepare for a hard turn!”

The chariot whipped toward the edge of the pond, throwing Grant against Sokkur, who bounced off the side of the wooden vehicle.  A flock of birds was disturbed when they rumbled past, and Reimaria steered them to a stop.  The sudden lack of motion made Grant feel unsteady, so he held on to the side of the chariot until the sensation passed.

“We will stop here and let the Saunterling drink.  Make sure you keep your eyes and ears open for something else looking to whet their thirst as well.”  Skor unhooked the Saunterling and led it over to drink while the other three hopped down from the carriage to stretch.  Grant was watching to the north, while Reimaria took the west.  Sokkur had to watch both the south and east, but the location of the pond meant nothing could approach from directly south without them seeing it first.  Grant turned to speak to Skor, but he held a finger up to his lips.  “This is when we are our most vulnerable, so keep your ears open and mouth shut.”  While the words were harsh, Skor’s tone was kind.  It took the sting out of the rebuke for Grant.

They stood there in silence while the Saunterling slurped water.  All Grant could see was the endless fields of tall grass waving in the breeze.  He jumped back into the chariot to gain a few feet of height, but there was still nothing Grant could see.

“Do you hear that?”  Reimaria shifted to stand next to Sokkur.  Skor placed his hand on the back of the Saunterling, and it perked up, turning to look to the west.  Skor pulled his bow off of his back, and nocked an arrow.  “It’s… a buzzing sound.”

“Ah, broken axles!”  Sokkur ran over and started to pull the Saunterling back to the chariot.  “It’s a swarm!”

Skor and Reimaria jumped to help Sokkur get the giant lizard hooked back up, while Grant stood on his toes to look in the direction the noise was coming from.  The first thing he noticed was what looked to be a short, camouflaged wagon train rolling away from them.  That wasn’t nearly as important as the enemies that were quickly approaching.  A black cloud that hung close to the top of the grass was moving in quickly, and something was following close behind, moving the grass in a straight line directly for the pond.  Something big.  He hopped down to put his back to the water.

“There is something else, chasing the swarm.  You three handle the swarm, and I will take care of whatever the big thing is.”  Grant bent his knees, prepared to dodge in any direction.

“We’ll run a wide circle around the pond, so we can support one another.”  Skor raised his bow and fired a signal arrow up in the sky.  Grant didn’t pay attention to the color he used, because the swarm decided to ignore the much larger target of the chariot, and go for the weaker target standing next to the pond.  “It’s Corrupted Moo Bees!  Jump in the pond, quick!”  The insects were much smaller than the Corrupted Preying Mantis, which were the size of a normal house cat, but were definitely larger than the hummingbird-sized Corrupted Massquitos.  The Moo Bees were black and white, spotted like a dairy cow, and their stingers were almost as big as their bodies.  The swarm looked like a bunch of cowhide-hilted daggers bent toward Grant’s destruction.

Grant turned and dove into the water, finding the pond to be deeper and cooler than he expected.  He opened his eyes and realized it was impossible to see the bottom, but the water was still clear enough for him to see back up to the surface.  The swarm buzzed around the edge of the pond near where he entered, hanging around long enough that he was starting to struggle with holding his breath.  Finally, the thing that had been chasing the Moo Bees caught up to them.  Suddenly, Grant had to wonder if drowning wasn’t the better option.

<That… is an insect that has learned to cultivate.>  Sarge seemed just as concerned as Grant was.  Once, the creature had probably been one of the many Corrupted Preying Mantis that infested the plains.  But that had to have been a really long time ago.  Now, the bug walked on two legs, like a human, and it used its middle limbs like hands.  The upper limbs looked more like a pair of swords held ready to strike, the chitinous edges gleaming in the sunlight.  Its triangular head was somehow more human shaped than a regular mantis, and the antenna on top of its head buzzed as it stepped forward to the edge of the pond.  <This is perfect.  You will either learn a parry and counter skill, or you will most likely die.  I swear, you have the best luck.>

Grant didn’t agree with the sword spirit, but any thought of arguing with him disappeared the moment he felt something wrap around his foot.  His hip was almost dislocated when whatever it was in the depths jerked him deeper underwater.  The spike of pain was only made worse by his skill that increased his pain sensitivity, and he did his best not to vomit.  Grant tried to look down to see what had him, but it was too dark to see.  Instead, he activated his lightning spell, and it let him go.  Being completely submerged, nauseated, and almost out of breath, meant he couldn’t aim the spell, but whatever it was must have been shocked enough to let him go.

Grant pulled himself through the water toward the surface, trying to angle himself to emerge on the opposite side of the pond.  Something brushing up against his leg made him change his mind.  At least he could see the thing that would be trying to kill him if he was on land.  He clawed his way to the surface and flopped onto the bank, gasping for air.  The mud made it hard for him to gain his feet, but he was encouraged to go faster when a Moo Bee stabbed him in the butt.

“Yeaouch!”  Grant somehow cleared the mud, and landed on the grassy bank.  The swarm seemed to back off at his impromptu battle cry.  The upgraded version of a Preying Mantis moved to close with Grant, who was only a quarter of the way around the pond.  He plucked the Moo Bee from his hindquarters and crunched it in his grip before tossing it in the water.  Grant could feel blood running down the back of his leg, but he ignored it.  Which is when he got hit in the other butt cheek with an arrow.

“Sorry, mate!”  Skor waved with a wince, dropping his bow out of sight.  “Hit a bump!”

“I’m gonna bump you!”  Grant shouted, before having to dance backward away from a downward swipe from the sword-like appendages of the oversized mantis.  “Just get the swarm away from me!”

They did as he asked, thundering through the swarm of Moo Bees with the chariot and drawing the butt-stabbers away.  Their passage also served to distract the mantis, so Grant used the opportunity to yank the arrow out.

<If I was a betting man, I would put money on you specifically requesting better armor for your backside the next time you find a blacksmith.>

Grant couldn’t answer the snarky sword spirit, because he was already rolling to his left to avoid getting cleaved in half by the mantis.  It seemed as if the creature could only swing down from above, the shape of its appendages making it impossible for any other kind of attack.

“You are one ugly bug.  And that’s saying something, because I really don’t like bugs.”  The monster seemed to understand Grant, or at least understand that it was being insulted.  It arched back, lifting both blades high over the top of its seven-foot height.  Grant followed his instincts, and used his Iaijutsu skill to deflect both of them, knocking them out of line and drawing forward in a hard slash against the side of the creature.  The chitin was too tough for him to damage without using one of his bonus abilities, but it was enough to force the creature to take a step back.  “Yeah, I’m not going to be easy to kill, monster.”

The Mantis took that as a challenge.  Even though it could only strike downward, its height gave it the advantage of leverage, and its powerful build meant every attack would end Grant’s life if it connected.  The only thing the young Wielder could do was keep backing in circles around the pond, and keep knocking the razor-sharp chitinous limbs away.  He tried to use his Peach Flower Petal Flurry skill to at least crack the thick carapace, but when he sheathed his sword to use the necessary speed boost from his Iaijutsu skill, the mantis rushed him.  Grant abandoned his attempt, and instead poked his Uchigatana at the monster’s eye.  Even that was too tough for him to damage, but it at least kept the mantis from trapping him in a death-hug.

<Don’t use your flurry attack.  Remember, you are trying to develop a parry and counter skill.  Try deflecting both of its limbs to one side, and using your Begonia Chop skill to get through its armor.>  Grant gave a grunt of acknowledgement, too winded from the fierce swordplay to answer.

Timing the parry correctly meant Grant had to wait for the mantis to swing both sword-arms at the same time.  He faked a stumble when dodging backward, and the mantis took the bait.  He angled the edge of his blade to deflect the downward swings.  Instead of absorbing the force imparted by the momentum, Grant used it to swing himself around in a flat spin, planting his left foot as a pivot point.  The extra power made his joints groan in protest, but he shoved back hard on his right foot when he was perpendicular to the mantis, coming in at its side.

“Hemlock’s Bane!”  Grant didn’t know why he shouted that, but something inside him said it was right.  For the first time since he started the fight, his Uchigata didn’t have any problems getting through the thick shell of the mantis.  His sword punched deep, the blade slicing cleanly through the side of the monster.  If it had been a human, its kidney would have been cut in half.  Since it wasn’t a human, it simply backhanded Grant with its free middle arm.  He tumbled away, notifications fighting for his attention with the stars that were encroaching on his vision.

Dao Seed of Change activated!

Through your hard work and dedication, you have acquired a new skill!

Change is Growth

Skill gained: Hemlock’s Bane (1/2). This skill is designed to make your enemies regret ever attacking you. You have shown initial mastery! Congratulations!

Tier one effect: When you have a perfect parry, your next attack will have a 10% increase in damage.  Impact will cause Philosophers to ponder the inevitability of death.

Grant sat up, trying to clear the stars and skill message from his vision.  He didn’t know where his sword was, but he recognized the same place where he had come up out of the water.  A small pool of his blood from where he had been stabbed made it easy.  He and the mantis had made a complete circle around the pond.

The heavy footsteps of the mantis were plodding closer, so Grant rolled to his right, splashing through the shallows of the pond.  The loud buzzing sound of its oversized antenna made his clenched teeth vibrate, and as his vision cleared, he saw the mantis was leaning back, lifting its blade-arms high to finish him off.  It saw him without a weapon, and must have decided it was tired of fighting.

<Now!>  Grant activated the ability Time is Space, and his Uchigata appeared in his hands.  He used his sword to divert the blades once more, but this time the angle was too steep for him to be able to parry properly.  He guided the blades of the mantis into the thick mud surrounding the pond, sticking them deeply in place.

“Ha!  Gotcha, you ugly -”  The middle arms, which were not stuck in the mud, once again punched him in the face.  Grant stumbled away from the edge of the pond, his pain ability making his split lip throb in agony far worse than it should have.  The mantis was bent over at a ninety-degree angle, its limbs buried deep in the mud.  It was working them back and forth, trying to get free, when Grant finally got to see what had been trying to drag him deeper into the pond.

A monster that had the body of a crocodile but the head of an octopus rose silently out of the water behind the giant mantis creature.  It was well over sixteen feet long, and the thick beak at the center of the flailing tentacles it had for a face opened wide in excitement.  The mantis must have felt the danger, because it turned at the last moment, right before the eight elastic limbs wrapped around its body and yanked it back into the water.  There were a few brief moments where the water thrashed on the surface, but it quickly returned to the calm appearance that had lured Team Three to this location in the first place.  The only sign that the mantis had existed at all were the two blade-arms still sticking out of the mud.

<I think you should suggest to the wagon train that they find water elsewhere.>  Grant nodded silently in agreement, before walking over and plucking the two limbs out of the mud.  <Why bother picking up those?  They are certainly sharp, but nothing compared to the benefits of using me in battle.>

“I still need to collect proof of my fitness in battle.”  Grant dropped both of the sword-arms in his pouch.  “Since I lost the body to that nightmare, I might as well come away with something.”

<Good point.>