After a lunch of grilled trout, I spent the rest of the day filling the Glen’s larder. There was about two and a half weeks left before the hunt, and I needed to focus on preparing and not to have to worry about our next meal.
I began by foraging for fruits and vegetables: blueberries, fava beans, greens, plums, acorns, hickory nuts, onions, and yellow squash. Along the way, I caught sight of a beautiful stag. His antlers were still coming in for the year, but he was otherwise full-grown and well-muscled. I picked up his trail after dropping the groceries off at home, then stalked him for a good two miles before I found him resting in the shade of a pine tree.
With Spiral Pierce, I no longer had to worry about my bow’s lack of poundage for non-monsterized animals. The arrow penetrated right through to the heart.
Afterward, I dressed the stag and dragged him home on an improvised travois. A couple of hours later—to skin, butcher, and get the hide ready for tanning—I went out into the forest again to search for more game.
I also looked for signs of a regular lynx. Finding one for Yuki—to compare against the blynx—was on my to-do list. I did try asking the mother blynx for help, but she raised her hackles at the thought of another lynx or blynx in her territory.
During that second outing into the forest, I came across a small javelina who’d gotten separated from his squadron. He must’ve scented me, because he ran before I could set up. My shot was hurried; it hit, but I had to follow his blood trail for about fifty yards.
Later, once he was dressed and back at the Glen, I prepared his hide for tanning too. His pelt would make for a nice hat.
The third trip resulted in a pheasant and an armful of yellow squash.
The fourth outing, near the end of the day, produced a pair of ducks. I shot one while he sat on the water, and the other just as she took flight. It was a level of archery I would never have been able to do in my old life, not without Dog’s Agility.
It was an hour before sunset when I returned to the Glen, which left just enough daylight to pluck the ducks and get them ready for the refrigerator. After that, all that was left was to get a fire started and collapse, exhausted but pleased with the day’s efforts.
For dinner, I threw some greens together for a salad. Ikfael was happy enough to gnaw on raw fish that night, and the mother blynx ate from another hare she’d caught while I was away. There must be a warren nearby.
I frowned. I couldn’t keep calling her the mother blynx. Somehow, it felt okay to name the kittens, but she was an adult and had her own mind. It didn’t feel right to just give her a name. I merged with Yuki to send our consciousness within her to ask her preferences directly.
We found her pleased with our arrangement so far. The wolves and the hellmouth were both predators she would have run from. And, yes, there was a rabbit warren nearby, so there was game aplenty, even without Ollie/Yuki/Eight to provide it.
When we considered her consciousness, the image evoked was of the sun sparkling on snow.
A thought arose from the uekisheile part of us: The name Yuki is already taken.
Depending on the way the name was spelled in Japanese, it could mean either happiness or snow. Our Yuki’s choice was happiness, but a certain possessiveness accompanied the name—there could be only one, even if the meanings were different.
Then let her be Sun-on-Snow, we thought.
The concept resonated through the blynx’s mind, and we felt her approval.
“Sun-on-Snow. Snow for short.”
We shared the words aloud too, so that she became familiar with them. Normally, Yuki translated for her, but we suspected there would come a day when that portion of ourselves within her would be needed elsewhere.
Snow quirked her head to listen. A feeling of acceptance radiated from her.
Within us, Ollie/Yuki/Eight also approved. With everyone satisfied, we separated so that I could lean back to watch Ikfael retell a story of the Knight Otter.
I smiled at Ikfael’s antics. It’d been a good day, and a good night followed it.
Yuki and I needed to work on the dual problems presented by lightning qi and the Blink spell, but there was more to do besides that. Even in my old life, there were never enough hours for everything I had wanted to accomplish, so I split my day into three chunks.
In the morning, when it was still cool, I practiced integrating my skills. I’d already started doing that, but the focus this time was on finding synergies between all my skills, including Survival, Stealth, and Strategy. They all had teachers hidden within them, and I did my darndest to listen to them.
Surprisingly, Snow joined in. She didn’t have my endurance, and had to frequently stop to rest, but it quickly became clear that my practice was her play. A thrill of pleasure ran through her every time she pounced or clawed the wooden block I’d set up as a target dummy. She got a similar dopamine hit whenever she teleported. That spirit of play was refreshing, and it kept the practice from turning burdensome.
Afterward, Yuki and I explored the Blink spell and chased after lightning qi. Most of the time was spent merged, our senses combined to better perceive and manipulate the required energies. We didn’t necessarily make a lot of progress, but there were at least hints that a body power emulator might work.
In the evening, after my magical energies had recovered, I entered the forest to put my practice to the test. The larder didn’t need more game, so I looked for threats to the Glen instead. Snow came with me on the outing, but this time she was all business.
We didn’t find anything that night, nor the next—the days and evenings rolling into each other. It was just a matter of time, though, so we kept to the same schedule, all three of us training together and looking for ways to improve our skills.
That was how, on the third night, I found myself observing a rafter of sleeping bashu turkeys about a mile south of the Glen.
The quiet was disturbed only by the sounds of crickets. The turkeys slept within a shallow bowl surrounded on all sides by long grass and brambles. The only reason we’d spotted them was that the wind had shifted as we were passing by, which had brought their scent to Snow. Then, when we followed the scent, Yuki sensed their qi and led us closer.
Yuki passed along my intent to Snow, and she found a sweet little hiding spot in the branches of a bilkelet tree by teleporting up to it. I followed suit and climbed an elm overlooking the area.
Bashu Turkey Alpha (Animal, Dusk) Talents: Cruel Mistress, Heat Wave, Precarious Boiler |
The alpha slept at the bowl’s center, with twelve other turkeys nestled around her. About half had her coloring, with a mix of orange and brown feathers, while the rest looked like regular turkeys.
I got my arrows ready, but didn’t poison them all. I decided to start with clean arrows first, and switch over to the poisoned ones only if it became necessary. Our larder was full, yes, but I had a sudden hankering for smoked turkey.
My heart pounded, but I moved methodically, trusting in the long hours I’d spent practicing. My qi drained as it fed the Camouflage spell, yet I didn’t rush. Slow was fast and fast was slow—the proverb had come from my old life, but it was true in this one as well.
I ran through the sequence in my mind one more time before asking Yuki, Ready?
Yes.
And Sun-on-Snow? I asked.
Also ready.
Then let’s do this.
I gathered my qi into the loops needed for Spiral Pierce. The wind licked my face and hair as it began to spin around the arrow. I drew the bow and waited for the stillness between breaths to release.
The air cracked, and the arrow thunked into the alpha. She fell on her side, and suddenly Snow was behind her, claws slashing at the back of her neck.
I let go of the Camouflage spell and—
Yuki read my intent and spun up Dog’s Agility and Iron Heart for me while I prepared another Spiral Pierce. Snow blinked away, and the alpha’s heat beam seared the air where she’d been. It struck a pine in her place, and the tree’s trunk split as the sap inside vaporized.
The arrows came quickly now—three in as many seconds—piercing through the flapping, squawking chaos. That drew the alpha’s attention, so I dropped out of the tree. The heat beam cut across the area, branches bursting as it passed. No fires, though. My mind dimly registered that before I wove through the trees and put them between me and a hot death.
The heat beam stopped, and I glanced long enough to see Snow attacking the alpha once more. There was enough qi in me for one last Spiral Pierce, and I sent an arrow at the alpha, this one poisoned.
I slung my bow and circled back for my spear. Three of the bashu turkeys chased me, but they were just overgrown turkeys. They didn’t have heat beams yet, and they certainly weren’t faster than me on Dog’s Agility.
About thirty seconds left.
I registered Yuki’s warning and used the last of my qi to reinforce the spear. A bashu turkey flew at me, wings flapping, but my spearhead caught it mid-breast. I pushed through for the kill and swung the spear around to flick the body away. The other bashu turkeys avoided the spear, but by the time they were ready to attack again, I had brought it back into position. A thrust, and another was dead. The third bashu turkey, I smashed in the head with the spear’s butt, disorienting it enough for me to swing the spearhead back around for a slice through the neck. It wasn’t enough to decapitate the animal, but blood spurted in the air.
How’s Snow?
She’s retreated and in hiding.
The alpha was still alive. The sound of trees fracturing continued, but it came less and less frequently. I snuck back, relying on the night to keep me hidden, and a moment later spotted the staggering alpha. She fell and struggled to stand. Her beak opened but nothing came out.
The regular turkeys had fled once the fighting started, but three bashu turkeys were left. Instead of guarding the alpha, however, they approached her. One pecked, another clawed, and when they saw that the alpha didn’t—couldn’t—defend herself, they attacked in earnest.
All it took was an arrow to kill one and send the other two scurrying into the forest.
My sweat steamed in the air as I came out of hiding. The alpha’s baleful eyes turned toward me; me lifting my spear was the last thing she saw in life.
Moments later, Snow brought back the bodies of the escaped bashu turkeys, one at a time. She had a cut on one shoulder and a burn on her haunch. The cut was minor, but the burn took two healing spells to fix. Once the discomfort was gone, she was pleased as punch, and her eyes narrowed in pleasure at all the meat around us.
I looked at the carnage and said a few words to put the spirits at ease. When that didn’t work on the more spiteful ones—looking at you, alpha—I was more forceful in sending them on to their next life. It helped that they were still disoriented from their recent deaths.
The whole encounter hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes, but I felt drained. Pleased at what we’d accomplished, yet tired and jittery. There was more to be done, though, and no time to rest. We’d made quite a lot of noise, and it wouldn’t do to stick around too long.
I cut out the cores and tucked them safely away. I also pulled out dozens of orange feathers, then strung a couple of the turkeys together so that I could balance them across my shoulders. Snow grabbed a turkey too and blink-accompanied me home.
The next morning, I gathered stones and mud to expand the refrigerator to accommodate the extra meat. It meant detouring from my training schedule, but the extra capacity would be worth it.
I also absorbed the silverlight gathered from the turkeys, which brought my total silverlight to 1,721.
The bashu turkey alpha’s core wasn’t the biggest I’d seen—about the size of an almond—and the ‘flavor’ of its spirit was distasteful. It reminded me of bitter gloating. I ate a bunch of blueberries afterward to see if they’d help cleanse my palate. They didn’t.
Two days passed without any further excitement. When I got tired of training, the kittens livened things up again with their antics. And yeah, the fur under their bellies was just as soft as I’d imagined.
Eventually, though, it was time to head back to Voorhei.
I parked the travois outside Bihei’s longhouse just as dawn broke. It carried the meat from three good-sized turkeys, already plucked, quartered, and ready to be smoked, as well as the hides of the animals I’d hunted while away. The kids would do a better job tanning them using the village’s facilities than I could on my own at the Glen.
Billisha and Aluali heard me arrive, and tumbled out of the house to greet me. Bihei walked after them, maintaining the dignity of adulthood, but her hug was just as tight. The kids chattered nonstop, bright as birds, impatient to share everything that had happened while I was away. It was so good to see them; I’d missed their voices.
Grinning, I unveiled the turkey meat hidden under the hides, and the kids’ eyes shone. Satisfied by the response, I suggested we immediately take it to the village’s smokehouse while the morning was still cool, but the kids had a surprise for me too.
They handed me a pair of gloves. The buckskin covering the palms was supple, while the backs were leather tough—they had to be to withstand the stitching of dozens of small bone squares. There were even threads of cloth woven between the squares to keep them from clicking against each other.
The kids looked so proud of themselves, and really, they had every right to be. The gloves were perfect. Just perfect.
Then Bihei brought out a leather vest, the interior lined with the qiviut from the musk oxen. She helped me put it on, and it was just as warm as I’d heard it to be. The vest fit perfectly too. Working with leather was notoriously difficult, but somehow she had managed to make the stitches all straight and tidy.
I teared up at the thoughtfulness, and the kids giggled, pleased by my reaction. The little stinkers. They’d won this round, but that just meant I had to bring home an even better gift next time.
Breakfast and errands with the family ran long, so I arrived at the Hunter’s Lodge later than I’d planned. Well, I wasn’t due until evening, but I’d hoped to find someone with whom to spar. If not Inleio, then another hunter.
The lodge’s courtyard was full of hunters practicing their arts—whether it be spear, bow, skill, or spell. A few noted my arrival and waved, but most remained focused on their training. I asked around and was told that Mumu and the rest of my team were inside.
I found them gathered around one of the butchering tables. On the table was a hillside modeled in clay, and there were smaller pieces representing individual hunters, ballistae, and terrain. For a moment, I felt like I’d stumbled on a game of Warhammer.
Mumu waved me over, and the others nodded their greetings and made room for me at the table. There was an ongoing debate between two hunters from Kesa’s team about the placement of the ballistae.
One favored placing them apart, while the other argued for grouping them together. Apart, it was easier to create a crossfire and be harder to damage them in one big attack. Together, the ballistae would be more easily defended, and both could take advantage of the best terrain on the battlefield—a high outcropping.
“The kalihchi bear can jump,” I said, interrupting. “I’ve seen him leap from the escarpment west of the Glen and land unharmed. Now, that’s not the same as jumping across a battlefield, but I don’t think we should underestimate his ability to move around.”
“Can you estimate how far he can go?” Mumu asked. “We have the details from his last fight with the lodge, but he will have grown since then.”
I thought back to the time after I’d just met Yuki. Watching a thunderstorm from the Lion’s Cave, I had seen the King of the Forest leap from the escarpment above and rampage through the forest below.
“Keeping in mind that I’ve only seen him at a distance, if I had to guess… maybe half the length of the lodge’s compound. Probably longer.” That meant a twenty-yard jump at a minimum.
The hunters frowned, and Kesa started moving the pieces on the board farther apart. “My team witnessed him casting his lightning at targets eighteen qilm away,” she said.
I did the math. Each qilm seemed to be about five feet, so… thirty yards? “That’s what I’ve seen as well.”
After a moment’s consideration, Kesa pushed the pieces even farther apart. “It will be difficult for our teams to support each other.”
“Do we need to?” Mumu asked. “To fight at spear’s length is supposed to be the Albei team’s role. The dolbecs will occupy the bear, while the others kill him.”
“That assumes their team can do it alone,” Kesa said. “Those of us who have fought the King before know that will not be the case.”
Mumu frowned, but didn’t respond. She considered the battlefield, as did the others.
“The key,” Tegen said, “is if the dolbecs can hold the bear. If they can, then that narrows the scope of the danger. We will only need to worry about the lightning.”
“Banan’s team will use potions from the Alchemist’s Lodge to protect themselves from it,” Kesa said. “What can we do other than to spread out?”
I knocked on the table to get their attention. “There are two things to worry about with lightning: the overflash, where most of the energy passes over the body, and the intrusion, where a portion enters the body through its orifices.”
“Little Pot?” Mumu asked. “How do you know this?”
“I learned about it from the best experts. This was before I got lost in the woods. Before Ikfael took me in.” I paused to look at the doubtful faces around me. “I’m willing to drink the truth-telling tea if it would help you trust my words more.”
“No, keep going,” Mumu said. “We trust—”
Kesa put a hand on Mumu’s shoulder. “Perhaps it would be wise to bring the tea. That way we can listen to our Little Pot with ears fully clear of doubt.”
Mumu was the lodge’s most promising hunter, likely its next master, but Kesa was older and more experienced. After a stare down between the two, Mumu nodded. “Yes, of course,” she said and left for the cellar.
In the meantime, the other hunters discussed different ideas for containing the King of the Forest. I didn’t listen too closely, as I was focused on getting my thoughts in order.
Twenty minutes later, Mumu came back with a steaming cup of tea. One whiff, and the muscles in my face and back relaxed. I drank, and my thoughts grew distracted.
Kesa looked in my eyes and nodded to herself, apparently satisfied that the tea had taken effect. “Eight, tell us what you know about lightning, and how you came to know it.”
“Mi abuela… my grandmother told me that I was born during a storm, that a thunderbird flew over the top of our house when… Well, it doesn’t matter in this situation. And that’s too far back anyway.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve always been interested in lightning, and was afforded the opportunity to read and learn about it before I met Ikfael. I’ve spoken with people who’ve studied the weather all their lives. People who’ve worked with caged lightning. People who’ve harnessed it.”
“These people were Lightning-Touched?” Kesa asked.
“No, their talents lay elsewhere, but they were observant scholars and meticulous artificers.”
“So you’re not a spirit of the forest given human shape?” a hunter asked.
“No, of course not,” I said.
“Speak out of turn again,” Mumu said, glowering at the hunter, “and I’ll kick your ass from here to the village gate.”
“And I will kick your ass,” Kesa said to the same hunter, “from the gate to the village boundary. Eight agreed to talk about lightning, and that is all we will ask about.” She turned to me. “My apologies. Now please continue.”
“As I said before, there are two primary dangers from lightning. I don’t know if they correlate with lightning qi, but they give us a place from which to start. The first is the overflash. Most lightning passes over the body, and the danger there is from flash vaporization of any moisture on the skin. It can cause severe burns and tear apart clothes as it rapidly expands. For us, it means we have to be careful of sweat, but mist and rain would also create problems. As would clothing or armor that traps the vapor.”
Several of the hunters checked their clothing as I spoke; it was proof that they were genuinely considering my warnings.
“The other issue is when lightning enters the body. Usually, that’s through the eyes, ears, nose, or mouth, but open wounds can also let it in. It’s a small portion of the overall energy, but once inside, the lightning can ride the interior channels to do great damage to the heart, lungs, brain, and more. The thing to remember about lightning, though, is that it seeks a path of least resistance. If there’s a channel available that’s easier than the body’s orifices, it’ll go that way instead.”
“What does that mean? What can provide an easier channel?” Tegen asked.
“Iron,” I said. “The people I met who worked with lightning wore chainmail. It molded to the body and didn’t impede movement. And the metal provided an easier channel for the lightning to travel through on its path to the ground.”
The hunters who’d been checking their clothes grimaced. Mail was expensive, after all. Not many could afford it.
“Does it have to be mail?” Kesa asked.
“I don’t know, but I imagine it’s possible that a network of wires might be enough to draw the energy away. A lot depends on the amount of energy carried by the bear’s attacks. If it’s as much as natural lightning, then even chainmail likely won’t be enough.” It was hard to think while under the tea’s effects, but… “If the wires drain away only some of the lightning, that’s still energy that’s not available to attack a hunter’s inner organs. It’s bound to help, even if only a little.”
“We have two weeks left until the hunt,” Mumu said. “How much wire can our smiths produce in that time?”
“Quite a lot, if they don’t have to fashion anything fancy,” Kesa said. “What else should we know, Eight?”
“Just that the wire needs to touch the ground, otherwise the lightning will use a hunter’s legs to travel the rest of the way.”
“Noted,” Kesa said.
After that, Mumu led me to a quiet corner to wait out the tea’s effects. She patted me on the head, and as she turned to leave, I heard her whisper, “Truly, the spirits watch over us.”
