Chapter 8 - You Have To Know The Basics

Killian woke up slowly. Sleep had been hard to come by in the previous nights. He had always been good at working on little sleep, but it inevitably led to a big crash. He felt groggy, as though he had slept for a very long time. His eyes remained closed, but he felt Pyre near him. Both physically, and in spirit. Her closeness kept him calm.

Even without opening his eyes, he could see that he had some notifications to check. He saw that he had completed the quest, his reward was a spellbook of the Phoenix, which he would look at as soon as possible.

“Do I know you?” The hard voice of Dack said. More pressing than the spellbook was the stern look on a face Killian would recognise anywhere. Killian awoke to find himself in a large tent, lying on a cot. Putting a sight to the noise, he recognised the soft patter of rain hitting the canvas. Turning his head, he saw Pyre standing on a table, with a man seated next to it.

His armour of rock had receded and he was now garbed in the leathers and gear of an adventurer. A heavy looking hammer lay on the table, the large blonde man’s hand loose on the hilt. The armour may have gone, but the face was just as stony.

“Answer me.” Dack said.

“You’re Dack. It’s me, Killian.”

An intense fury crossed the man’s face for a moment. Indignation, confusion and disgust crossed his face. Killian had seen all of those emotions play out on a younger version of this face a million times. Then he saw the emotion he recognised as intense joy. Like he had found a gold coin in a storm drain.

“Wha- Buhwuh- I saw you- and then we-” Dack couldn’t squeeze out any full sentences, and Killian empathised. He hadn’t really considered how to tell his friends that he was alive, and certainly hadn’t thought that there would be years in between. He also looked a fair amount different now, which might help and might not help.

“How long has it been?” Killian was afraid to ask, but hoped it would break Dack out of his cycle. The man before him went pensive for a moment, a new emotion that wouldn’t have fit on the less mature Dack of Killian’s memory.

“It’s been 10 years, Kil.” Dack’s voice had become much deeper over time, and his solemn tone made it even more so. It was instantly believable, seeing Dack would confirm that by itself. His earth powers had grown, gauntlets becoming a full protective armour. It all made sense. Except, why had Genara not told him? With no answer to that question evident, Killian asked a different, more obvious one.

“Is Sherrin with you?” Killian almost regretted asking, seeing a pain appear on Dack’s face that he hoped he wouldn’t see again.

“No.” They sat in that heavy silence for a time. Killian’s thoughts began to spiral. He couldn’t ask the next question of “where” after seeing that pain. He thought of blaming himself, how things could have been different. Killian began to feel self-loathing as his mind wandered from Sherrin to Jol. He had filled a void in himself with the fairy, and now the fairy was gone. Gone like Sherrin.

A peal of harmonious melody startled the two time-lost friends. Hope and calm pressed into Killian through his connection with Pyre. Dack’s smile returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and he scratched Pyre under her chin.

“Well,” Dack’s voice was louder, more full of bravado, “if you’re going to come back from the dead, having a phoenix at your side is understandable. What happened? We… I saw you die, Kil.”

The story wasn’t long, but it was confusing. It took time to fully explain how it felt in that place, with a goddess. Dack listened to Killian’s tale in silence, absently petting Pyre. Killian told him of the dinner he had shared with Genara. He tried to explain her grace, her beauty and the divine happiness he found in her presence. There weren’t true words for that, Killian felt, so he continued.

He explained that he had been given certain abilities before returning. Killian didn’t share the full extent of what he could do, his inventory kept secret for now. Dack knew about Aspects, explaining to Killian that their furtive, hidden life in the alleys of Sanctia DaVaux wasn’t the best education. Killian agreed happily, he had been shown just how inexperienced he was the previous night.

“I’ll be honest, Kil.” Dack said suddenly. He looked at Killian, eyes wet. “I tried to forget. I’m so sorry. There was nothing I could do, it’s too big.”

“Dack…” Killian didn’t know what to say. Most survivors never received absolution from their survivor’s guilt. Definitely not like this.

“It sounds like a howling funeral in here! I can’t stand it.” The tent flaps burst open, sunlight streaming in around the silhouette of the speaker. Striding into the tent, boots, knives, buckles and jewelry making a discordant percussion as she walked, the most impressive mortal woman he had ever seen stood tall.

In stature and physique. The large woman had an easy smile on her, Killian could see now, gorgeous face. Plump lips, happy eyes and jet black hair sat below a tricorn hat. Her outfit reminded Killian of sea captains he had seen, though the sea-faring instruments were replaced with sharp items instead.

“Gave you your time, Dacklan, now stop moping. Go play with the phoenix if you want.” She was curt and clearly in charge. She didn’t look at Dack as he carried out her order and began to stand. He coaxed Pyre, who looked at Killian. Go, was the happy command that Killian sent, coupled with a feeling of safety. He was thoroughly disarmed by the woman’s demeanor and appearance. He was also happy to talk more with Dack later, when he understood more. They left, and Killian was suddenly much more aware that his clothes were on the other side of the room.

“So, you’re the signal flare? That was some light show you produced, kid. Aspect of the Phoenix? I would have thought something less fancy, but the bird speaks for itself. Are you an adventurer?” The woman spoke fast, not introducing herself before jumping into a slew of questions. “How about your other Aspects? You have a fairly tell-tale phoenix shaped tattoo, but I couldn’t work out what the other is.”

“Wait!” Killian was going to answer all of her questions, but he had some of his own first. Having an adult stand over him and be demanding, even one as clearly enthusiastic as this giantess, was not a feeling Killian enjoyed. She seemed to see his discomfort quickly, once she tried to look. Her happy smile became tinged with sadness, and maybe guilt.

“My apologies. It’s no excuse, but I have been told before that I get slightly too excited about magic. I am Ophana Brunndar. I’m the guild leader of the Fangs of Pryviow, and you helped us complete a contract last night. Those gnolls lead us straight to their warren. Without you drawing them out, it was going to be a slog through the Quilthoth.”

“Quilthoth?” Killian felt like Ophana had just made random noises, but she explained that a Quilthoth is a space of twisted, dark forest. The combination of rot, dank darkness and violence in an area over a long time can create a Quilthoth, and that’s exactly what Killian had wandered into. The Fangs had been hired to clear the land by the baron of the area. The gnolls had attacked a small village further to the south than the forest Killian had arrived in.

“So those things are all dead?” Killian asked to confirm.

“All the ones we could find. Some of them are scattered to the further reaches of the countryside but they don’t survive without packs. They’re no more dangerous now than a pair of goblins.” She laughed, as though she’d told a funny joke.

“You said something about tattoos? I don’t have a tattoo?”

“Is that right?” Ophana’s voice was teasing, as though they’d started to play a game. Or flirt. Killian’s awareness of his naked form increased. “How do you have two Aspects and not know how they work?”

“It’s a long story, that you might trust from… Dacklan? More than you would from me.” Killian had tried to stop himself from laughing as he said “Dacklan”, but he couldn’t help it. Dacklan? “I kind of just… used them. Is that not normal?”

“Aspects require binding rituals,” Ophana’s voice was still suspicious, but talking about Aspects was apparently her favourite thing in the world. “It takes a few hours, and the tattoo appears during the process. Sometimes people hear the Voice, and are granted their Aspect that way, but their tattoos are more visible.”

“I did speak to a goddess,” Killian said casually, “so maybe I’m different because of that. I also died, and maybe that changes things.”

Killian should have expected the reaction he got, but he had found that when telling the truth you needed to just tell it. Preparing Ophana to believe him wouldn’t make his words less true.

“Right,” Ophana said, clearly not believing him but seeing no other answers forthcoming. “We move out in a few hours. Get up, get ready and find Dacklan. We can take you with us, or drop you off at the next town.”

Without another word, she left. Killian waited a few moments before jumping out of his cot and grabbing his clothes.

-------------------------

“What I’m saying is,” Dack groaned, “that you have to know the basics.”

Killian was being intentionally stubborn, enjoying the nostalgia of bullying his friend a little. For Dack, who was now an adult, it had been years since he had dealt with Killian’s penchant for annoyance.

“And what I’m saying,” Killian retorted with an unhidden grin, “is that the world itself lights up and tells me what things are. Learning the names of monsters now isn’t really relevant.”

“It will be when you start working as an adventurer.”

Killian had been shown around the camp of the Fangs of Pryviow, and Dack had spent every moment of it asking Killian to join the guild. This was why, now, Killian was trying to frustrate Dack. He couldn’t understand why Killian was hesitant. It wasn’t killing the monsters, though he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of throwing himself into them. It was something harder to explain.

-Quest Completed-

|Uncover the mystery of the burning farm|

By your actions, the gnolls that were beginning to plague this forest have been eradicated. Pyre has been avenged, and a cleansing act performed.

Reward: Spellbook of the Phoenix

Reputation of Genara increased.

Reputation of Comus decreased.

-Item-

|Spellbook of the Phoenix|Bronze

Bestows increased power to spells in the Phoenix school of magic.

Effect:Channel mana through the spellbook to increase the power of the spells.

While that quest had been completed, and Killian was excited to see what that meant, something gave him pause. Another new variable. Reputations, now? He didn’t know nearly enough about adventuring, and definitely not enough about the past or what was coming. He had questions he still needed answers to.

Foremost of those, Killian had Pyre working on. Their connection didn’t seem to have a distance limit, but the closer Pyre was the more her messages could be refined. As they passed a small tent with loud snoring coming from within, he received the message he had been waiting for. Pyre sent him an image of a small humanoid sat looking glum on a large toadstool.

“Regardless, Kil,” Dack was changing his angle, seeing no fruit to the labour. “You wanted to learn magic? Let’s just do that, sorry for talking your ear off.”

Dack was taking Killian to the other side of the small guild camp from his own tent. In the shade of a low-hanging willow tree sat an altogether different looking abode. Seemingly grown from the ground itself, a mushroom squatted under the willow. It was the size of a small cottage, though it had a large door, windows and even a little cat flap. Killian had been in the guild’s camp for less than a day, but the way people avoided this tree had become obvious.

Dack had told him to be polite, be curious but be careful. Apparently the brother and sister who chose to live in the toadstool were long term members of the guild, they were just considered weird. Killian understood what they meant, but he was entranced. Growing up, his mind had always filled with wonder when passing the local apothecaries. He would hang around places Sherrin had told him that a witch lived, in hopes she might whisk him away as her familiar.

While that had never happened, if he ever imagined where a witch might live, it was here. Positively giddy at the chance to learn magic, from a mushroom witch in her mushroom house, seemed too good to be true. Dack happily wrapped on the door, a soft thud being produced rather than a solid knock.

The sounds of utensils clattering, cursing in a language Killian had never heard and approaching, heavy footsteps were not the answer to the knocking that Killian had expected. Dack’s expression never changed, as though he knew exactly how this was going to go. The noises within got louder, Killian swore he heard the bleat of a goat, before the door swung open. The stink that left the house was sticky, a cloying sweetness that seemed as dangerous as a poison.

The greeter, a huge mountain of a man, covered in hair so thick you could call it fur, beamed happily at Dack. A thick Estussian accent flowed from his lips as he began to speak.

“Ah! Dacklan! You do not visit like you say you will! Is a great shame to me and my beautiful sister. She is ashamed to show her face because you ignore her!” The huge man had the telltale features of his people. His skin was slightly grey, a bald head with markings like stylish tattoos and the brick-red eyes of a goliath. Killian had met few, mostly seeing them as bodyguards or kneebreakers.

Estussia is a poor country to the north of Pryviow, blanketed nearly year-round in a thick snowbank. Life is hard there, but the people are especially adaptive. Skilled at life magic, resistant to cold temperatures and as hardy as any creature alive, the goliaths of Estussia are a proud, well-liked people. Their proclivity for life magic allowed them to survive the tundras of Estussia.

“Mycol, I saw you both yesterday with the gnoll clean up.” Dack was handling the man’s intensity well. The goliath had practically shouted at him, and his tone and face were one of anger. Dack didn’t flinch as a finger the size of a truncheon waggled in his face.

“You were to come to eat! Why do you disrespect us, so?”

“First, I’ve told you, if I eat another goulash made by you, I will actually die. Those mushrooms aren’t fit for consumption.”

“Ah, but you had fun, eh?”

“No!” Dack said, flustered and face red suddenly. “Secondly,” he said, pulling the conversation back. “The reason is Killian here. It’s a long story but he’s actually an old friend of mine. He’d definitely like to try some of that awful stew.”

Pointedly ignoring Dack’s insult, Mycol the goliath turned to look Killian full in the face. The man stood taller than anyone Killian had ever seen. His precise measurements were 10 foot, 7 inches and nearly a tonne in weight without armour. Killian was literally a tenth of the goliath in mass. With a head the size of Killian’s torso, he seemed to block out the sun as he stepped from the fungal home.

In the light of the sun, the immense hunk of muscle was even more imposing. Killian found himself feeling very small, a shivering leaf before a large gale. The feeling lessened, as though a conscious choice had been made.

“You can be a real prick, Mycol.” Dack admonished.

“Apologies,” The voice from Mycol was warm and held genuine remorse. “I am drunk, didn’t control my pressure. You came to learn magic? Good luck.”

The man carried on. Killian was completely confused, but turning to Dack just got him a shrug.

“The answers you want can come from Sybould. She prefers Syb, but I’d start with a ‘lady Sybould’ for good measure.”

“Thanks, Dack.” Killian took a deep breath as he approached the door, the shade of the willow tree falling over him. This was where he would learn how to control his mana, what his power would mean for him. He would finally be able to live how he wanted to.

“Good afternoon, lady Sybould,” Killian projected into the room as he entered. The door had been left open, Dack had indicated it was an invitation. The cackle of a trick successfully pulled was the last he heard of Dack before a pestle hit him in the head, and he lost consciousness for the second time in as many days.