Here's our latest development :) I hope you enjoy!

Plum

22 – Not the Talking Type

“Yeah, I’m here,” Andy said, laughing at the satisfaction he heard in the spear’s voice. Scirocco was proud of his new talent! “Also, you can call me Andy.”

Perhaps, though your deeds speak louder than a name. Now, brother, I hunger for that gem you hide from my sight! Speaking is wearisome; allow me to feast!

Andy knew Scirocco was talking about the Gem of Growth. He’d thought about it quite a lot—to the point that he’d almost talked himself into giving it to Lucy so she could more easily level up her artifact knife. After all, Scirocco was already a lot higher level—and two artifact “tiers” higher, too. He’d discarded the idea, though; Scirocco had been there for the bogwart battle. It wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be treating him like a person, to take the gem away and give it to Lucy’s knife.

So, when the spear asked for the gem, he reached into his storage ring and pulled it out. “I’m not sure how this will work…”

Place it against my blade, brother, and I will do the rest!

“All right.” Andy took the small, glowing red gem and reached up to press it against Scirocco’s long, razor-edged blade. It stuck there like a magnet. He watched, wondering if it was simply meant to adorn the spear, granting its power that way. That idea was proven wrong, though, when red veins spread through Scirocco’s bright blade, glowing crimson as they spread outward from the gem.

The veins reached the edges of the blade, then the tip, and then they began to stretch down into the already green-veined spear haft. A soft tinkling sound brought his eyes back to the gem, and he watched as it broke apart into colorless dust that fell to the wooden floor. The crimson veins pulsed brightly, and Scirocco grew warm in his hands. Andy held his breath, watching, and then the red veins faded as though they’d never existed.

It is done, brother! Use your tricks to see my growth.

Andy sent a touch of mana into the spear and, once again, he saw Scirocco’s status sheet. He focused on the lines that had changed:

Scirocco, Swift-Spear of Mesquite MesaArtifact – Tier 4Level – 22

Improvement Points: 3

All the weapon’s ability descriptions and available enhancements had remained the same.

Brother, I am greater! I wish for you to save these points.

“You do? Why?”

I sense something better is close. I need but gain a few more levels.

Andy shrugged. “Okay. Hey, while we’re on the subject, is there any way you can control which of your, um, random effects strike our enemies?”

One may as well ask if the stars can control which beasts will gaze upon their light!

“It’s just that, sometimes your gusts of wind or your lightning strikes kind of work against us. You brought a cavern down on us once!”

Did our foes not suffer far worse than we?

Andy chuckled. “True, I guess.”

I cannot choose which of my magics lance forth, but I may be able to suppress them altogether for a time. For you, brother, I will try. Tell me when I should.

“Fair enough.” Andy leaned the spear against the wall near his bed, then said, “I’m going to sleep now.”

When no fierce voice sounded in his mind, he touched the spear’s haft. “Did you hear me?”

I heard you, but I fear you did not hear me. My voice travels through your touch. Rest well, brother. I, too, shall rest. So many words have taxed me.

“Right. Rest well.” Andy undressed and then flopped onto his mattress, pleased with how everything had gone with the spear. Despite all he’d gone through during the day, and everything he had yet to do, his mind was blissfully quiet when he closed his eyes. For a while, he imagined soaring over the desert, flying toward the Santa Rita Mountains. He imagined he could see Lucy down there, leading a line of explorers up into the mountains. He was smiling when he fell asleep.

###

As the impending dawn turned the night sky from black to gray, Lucy hiked back up the trail toward the Dondalli village. Most of her party, including Denise and Vince, were still sleeping, secure in their little tents and watched over by two members of the Militia—Jon and Keesha. Even Madi was still asleep; she’d worked all day and late into the night nurturing her tiny saplings.

Of course, the Dondalli had offered to let everyone camp in their village, but the party had decided to maintain their own space. It was the fierce dragonkin, Janice, who had made the most convincing argument: it was fine to make new friends, but trusting too much, too soon, was foolish.

Lucy yawned, then took another bite of hard jerky, chewing it as she walked. It had been an eventful day and evening, and though she’d slept soundly, when she’d woken in the pre-dawn light with a full bladder, her excitement hadn’t allowed sleep to find her again. Her thoughts kept returning to Madi’s work. The trees had worked just as the Druid had promised; they’d somehow pulled the world’s mana flows closer to the surface and the Dondalli flowers had brightened almost immediately.

Ria, Ganessa, and all the others—hundreds of colorful, brightly clothed people—had celebrated with music, dancing, and a feast. A dozen of the warrior caste—Torfal’s people—had sworn solemn oaths to Madi, promising to guard her six trees with their lives. The entire community had declared Madi an honorary “Seed Mother,” and though none of the Earthlings knew exactly what that meant, it was clear that the entire community held the Druid in great esteem.

Lucy felt that her first “diplomatic mission” had gone extremely well; she just wanted to make things a little more official—hence her early morning visit. When she saw the gate in the distance, she touched the necklace at her throat, reassuring herself that she hadn’t forgotten it. One of the Dondalli on duty pointed his spear at her for a moment, then when his crimson eyes registered who she was, he quickly raised it, waving.

“Hello!” Lucy called, approaching the closed gate. “Is Torfal nearby? He said he’d meet with me at dawn.”

The guards looked at each other, and then the woman shook her head. “Not yet, but Ria is awake. I saw her in the Seed Mother’s grove. You’re welcome to seek her out.” The two guards pulled the gate open.

Lucy smiled, nodding as the gate swung wide. Madi’s little grove was near the center of the village, each tree a good twenty strides from the others to give their broad canopies plenty of room to grow. Lucy had tried to picture it—the big blue-tinged mesquites growing amid the stilts of the Dondalli’s strange village, and she thought it would be interesting to see how the alien people would adapt. Would they lower their homes to be under the trees’ embrace, or would they try to stay above them?

When she approached the center of the village, she saw that dozens of the Dondalli were already gathered. They stood in groups, observing Madi’s trees, which were considerably larger than they’d been the night before. Already, some of them were taller than Lucy, with lots of feathery mesquite leaves on their branches.

A Dondalli girl stepped close to one of the saplings and tied a bright green ribbon to one of the lower branches, and that was when Lucy realized all the trees were similarly adorned—scores of ribbons fluttered in the morning breeze. She saw Ria pouring a small pitcher of water at the base of a sapling and approached her.

When they saw her, many of the Dondalli offered smiles and greetings, and Lucy again felt warm—her enthusiasm for the future of their two peoples bright in her heart. Ria saw her and stepped closer.

“Friend Lucy!” Just as the day before, she held out a hand, and when Lucy went to grasp it, the Dondalli girl gently scratched her sharp nails over Lucy’s knuckles.

She decided to ask her about it: “Is that a greeting ritual among your kind?”

Ria’s eyes widened as she nodded. “Oh, yes! I never thought to consider that you might not understand that!” She tilted her head. “Why did you hold your hand out to me?”

Lucy smiled and replied, “Among my people, we do something called a handshake.”

“Show me!”

Lucy held out her hand again, and this time Ria mimicked the gesture without the gentle scratches. Lucy grasped her palm, folding her fingers firmly around it. “Now you, too—grasp my hand the same way.”

Ria giggled as they gripped each other’s hands, and Lucy pumped her hand up and down a couple of times. “That’s it. A handshake.”

“I like it! Your flesh is warm.”

Lucy nodded. “My coach used to say you could tell a lot about a person by their handshake.”

Ria held up her pointy black nails. “My people can secrete venom from their nails. Allowing me to brush them along your flesh is a show of trust and good faith.”

Lucy blanched slightly, swallowing as she regarded the girl’s sharp nails. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “Um, since we’re talking about trust, I was wondering where I might find Torfal. He said we could talk about a delegation; I’d like to bring some of your people to visit our community. I think it would be good if we made plans to help each other in the face of other…”

Lucy frowned, glancing out at the mountains, toward the yellow-streaked sky in the east. She’d rehearsed the words a dozen times, but they felt funny in her mouth. Still, she pressed on. “Other hostile groups. You know, your people weren’t the only ones the System brought to our world.”

“Oh, I would love to visit! I’m sure Ganessa would, too. She and Torfal took the dawn patrol, but…” She frowned, turning to follow Lucy’s gaze toward the sunrise. “They should have been back by now.” Her wings began to hum, blurring with their rapid movement. “A moment, friend Lucy—allow me to gain some height and see if I can spot them.”

Lucy nodded and watched as Ria flitted into the air, climbing to the level of the nearby stilt-buildings and then settling down on a rooftop. It looked like she was scanning to the north, so Lucy walked toward that side of the community.

The village was on a prominent ridge, and while the mountains continued to grow taller and more numerous to the south, there was a fairly good view of things to the north. When she reached the wall and hoisted herself up atop it so her legs hung down the other side, she could see a long way to the north, west, and even to the east, though more mountains lay in that direction. She squinted against the glare of the morning sun—it had just climbed over the hills—and saw lots of tiny flashing lights far out in the desert.

She knew they weren’t really flashing lights; the morning sun was reflecting off something. At first, Lucy thought maybe it could be broken windows or a line of disabled cars. The sun bouncing off glass would make flashes like that. Then logic intervened, and she had to ask why they would be flashing; a steady reflection would make sense, but if the light was flashing like that, it had to be because whatever was reflecting was moving.

A dark shape moved up from the distant slopes, and she realized it was one of the Dondalli flying rapidly toward the village. The figure was much closer than the reflecting lights, and Lucy clambered to her feet, balancing atop the wall as some nervous energy made her shift her bow off her shoulder, holding it in her hands.

A thrumming flutter announced Ria’s arrival. She hovered near Lucy for a moment and pointed toward the incoming Dondalli. “It’s Torfal! I couldn’t see Ganessa!” She whirled and, with wings humming, sped away. Lucy jumped down from the wall and ran after her.

The plant life was thin up there on the slopes—patches of tough scrub, cacti, and occasional desert trees. Lucy had no problem running full out along the ridge, chasing Ria as she closed on the other Dondalli. If it was Torfal, he was struggling to stay airborne; he dropped to the ground and ran several times, perhaps giving his wings a rest.

Lucy ran fast, especially downhill, and it was only a few minutes before she slid to a halt, shocked to find Ria supporting Torfal, who was bleeding from two short arrows—one in his shoulder and one in his side. “What happened?”

Torfal looked up at her, eyes wide, face strained as he gasped, “This damn world is cursed!”

Lucy looked past him. They were still high on the ridge, and she could see, far out in the desert, the flickering reflections of the sun. Were they moving closer, or was it just that she’d run closer? She looked back at Torfal. The arrows—bolts?—were clearly paining him, and his silvery mail was stained red with blood. She wanted to give him some of Bea’s healing water, but she’d left her pack back in camp. “What do you mean?”

Torfal spat, leaning heavily on Ria as he continued to walk up the hill. “Ganessa and I saw them with the dawn—people marching. I thought they looked like they might be your people, and Ganessa agreed. She wanted to try some of the words you taught her.” He glanced at Ria, and his voice grew hoarse with emotion. “I’m sorry, Ria.”

“Sorry? Why?” Ria cried.

He shook his head. “We set down near them.” Again, he looked at Lucy and said, “Folks shaped like Lucy—no wings. They wore gleaming metal armor and helms that hid their faces. When we approached and Ganessa called out the greeting Lucy taught her, they answered with a volley of arrows! The bastards!”

Ria looked down the slope, tears bursting from her eyes. “Ganessa?”

Torfal shook his head. “Dead—or, Petals willing, maybe taken. I saw her fall, but barely escaped with my own life. I had to drop my spear.”

“You left her?”

Torfal threw her off, standing on his own as she stumbled back. “I have a duty to our clan! They march this way! I had to warn our people—you!”

Ria, sobbing, fell to her knees, and Lucy moved to her, leaning to comfort her. She looked at Torfal, shaking her head. “Those aren’t my people. I think they came through a System portal. We had scouts who saw people like you described—covered in shiny armor and carrying bows.”

He shook his head. “They didn’t all carry bows. Many had shields and other weapons.” He winced and started walking on his own. “I must warn the others.”

As his wings began to thrum and Lucy knew he’d try to fly a bit more, she called after him, “How many?”

He looked back at her, his face a grim mask as he shouted, “Ten times a hundred.” With that, he lifted off, lurching through the air, gasping in pain as he struggled to make haste toward his settlement.

Lucy hugged Ria to her side, pressing her forehead against the side of the girl’s soft, black hair. “I’m sorry, Ria,” she whispered.

“What if she’s not dead?” Ria murmured.

“Then we’ll get her back.”

Ria looked up, blinking tears from her red, gem-like eyes. It struck Lucy then—how strange it was that the Dondalli were so different and yet also so similar to people from Earth. They might be born with seeds and be bound to flowers, but they bled red, and they wept for their loved ones.

“We’ll help you,” she said.

Lucy knew she wasn’t being rational—how could she and her party help against a thousand armored assailants? Even so, the words felt right, and she meant them. If those strangers had attacked Torfal and Ganessa for no reason—if they were coming to attack their settlement…

Lucy shook her head. She didn’t want to make friends with people like that, even if she could. They didn’t sound like the friend-making type—or even the talking type.

“Come on.” She stood and helped Ria to her feet. “We’ve got to make a plan.”