The crocodiles’ hissing roars and the keelish’s defiant screeches filled the air, but I paid them no mind as I focused on the new notification from the [System].
[Skill: Quaking Claw; an active Skill that sends a concentrated flow of sonic magic to a specific location. The sonic magic’s vibrations cause the affected area to vibrate in a way that facilitates cutting and tearing. When paired with a sharp extremity or sharpened held tool, Quaking Claw will show its greatest effectiveness. This Skill can evolve. Requirements: Develop a more complete understanding of sonic waves and how to influence them while they are not directly in contact with the Skill holder’s body.]
Not as enlightening as I’d thought it would be. Maybe it was naive or overly hopeful of me to think as much, but I’d expected specific metrics to complete in order to evolve the [Skill], just like every other time I’d been given the evolutionary requirements for any specific [Skill]. This nebulous “get better at the [Skill] to evolve it” explanation here was only barely more helpful than nothing. At least I was given the general method of approach for improvement since I’d felt the difference in sending out magic through my hand, but I couldn’t fathom what exactly I needed to do to improve in this way.
The more patient and understanding part of my mind rather charitably decided that that was just the point, that my understanding of sonic magic was still much too shallow for my continued evolution. I hated that reasonable part of me, and instead, my enthusiasm dampened, I tore my attention away from my [Status] and [Skills] and refocused on the origins of the constant shrieks of challenge and grunts of effort echoing all around me.
The three hunting grounds, the prepared spike traps, were all full, with swamp lizard–no, marsh crocodiles getting smashed down again and again into the stakes by the keelish wielding poleaxes. Though the heads of the weapons lacked any true edges, the scales and spines of the crocodiles quickly gave way under the concentrated assault of my keelish. A fierce smile crossed my face as I enjoyed watching my people’s victories.
As they could learn, so would I. For now, though, I would focus on joining the hunt.
[Varali POV]
The journey she and Fen had taken from Stonestep to where they had encountered the squad of High Speakers under High Lord Alniyh’s command had been more than a week, and to get to Stonestep from her old town had been five days’ hard travel. To the best of Varali’s estimation, she’d traveled well over 250 miles in those days, starting her journey before the suns had fully risen and beginning to make camp under the dying light of sunset.
While riding on the High Lord’s Bound ufudoluk, that very same journey had taken only four days. The massive tortoise moved supernaturally quickly by constantly flowing forward with its earth magic, the ground itself carrying the ufudoluk and its passengers further and faster than any other creature Varali had heard of while the vegetation parted at the gigantic tortoise’s approach. In the wake of their passage, the trees and brush resumed their previous position as if nothing had passed through, no tracks or other evidence remaining of their journey. Perhaps even more astonishingly, those days of travel had taken place over eight hour stints a day, since the High Lord insisted that sacrificing good rest and comfort to pursue mere keelish would be, “an exercise in overzealous foolishness reserved for the lowest and most insensate of plebians.”
Varali had quickly learned not to speak to High Lord Alniyh unless absolutely necessary, as he obviously enjoyed browbeating anyone nearby with his apparent superiority, made initially apparent when she’d said something about how Doluk’s Earthspeaking was amazing.
Stolen story; please report.
“It’s a beast,” The High Lord had interrupted, his condescension dripping from every word, “it does not Speak. It lacks humanity, so its magic is specialized, limited, and its origins are wholly internal. Doluk is an acceptable carriage alternative due to its size and ability to traverse complex terrain without much difficulty, but that is about all that it is good for, at least until it reaches maturity and its full size.
“On the other hand, my other Bound here, Skyr and Alba, have their own magical specialties with which to assist me on this thankless journey.” He’d continued on his tirade for a while thereafter, extolling the qualities of his Bound, the squirrel-like creature he called a toskyr and huge bird that Varali had suspected was a thunderbird until he’d again corrected her and called an albatross. Just when the naming conventions for the Bound became obvious to her, High Lord Alniyh had spoken up again, “They’re beasts, the names need to be simple to merit my recollection.”
I don’t like him. He’s… just plain mean. People like him kick beggars just because the poor can’t do anything about it. Fen had quickly made her thoughts on the High Lord obvious, and Varali couldn’t help but find a part of her agreeing with the assessment. Even so, the High Lord was obviously intelligent and powerful, and Varali suspected that any one of his Bound could deal with her, even the seemingly unremarkable Skyr.
As much as she could, Varali spent time with the other five High Speakers. There was Lierthan, who was the soldier in charge in name, though it was obvious that High Lord Alniyh would act according to his own desires and conscience at all times. Lierthan was a Waterspeaker, and he used that ability to scout, though how, Varali didn’t understand. When asked, he’d said “I feel the moisture of everything that lives and breathes,” and that had been creepy enough that Varali refused to ask any further questions. Worse, whenever his eyes were visible, without the beralt covering them, they stared unblinkingly into her own.
Then, there was a couple of Flamespeakers, Viirla and Norat, and both constantly moved with nervous energy. Whenever they experienced even the slightest passion, the idle sparks that accompanied their every step would flare to life as small flames that orbited the two women. Then, there was Tariel, a Windspeaker who spent most of each day listening to the little movements of the air for messages Varali couldn’t understand, but when his attention was nearby, he made good company. Finally, Dantlar, the Earthspeaker, stayed calm and unruffled as they continued on their journey. Varali found herself subconsciously searching for his grounded presence whenever she could, and his quiet companionship reminded her happily of her mother.
During the nightly breaks before sleeping, Varali asked each of the High Speakers for instruction on each of the disciplines, but most especially the two women who were the High Flamespeakers that Varali had always dreamed of becoming herself. Norat’s advice had been the most impactful:
“A Flamespeaker is the fuel to the Calling, not the shaper of the Calling as the other Speakers are. Where do these all-encompassing emotions come from? What is the source of these emotions? You don’t need to feel a raging, burning emotion to empower yourself. Instead, you need to focus on the source of these emotions: your family, those you wish to protect, the things you love and cherish. These powerful emotions are based in the deep attachments you have formed in your life. So, don’t think of the scene of your parents’ corpses in your family home,” The previously tamped down anger in Varali’s heart had surged at Norat’s words, beginning to pulse and ache at the back of her head, almost serving to disorient her, but Norat’s continued instruction carried her back into focusing. “Instead, dwell on the happy meals you shared at that table, the first time that your mother congratulated you for your achievements in Speaking, or your father’s embrace.”
With her advice, Varali could feel the icy clump in her heart beginning to thaw, and that was when Dantlar and Doluk had perked up and gotten attentive. Before Varali could ask anything, she was silenced, and High Lord Alniyh spoke, his voice serious and direct for the first time.
“Something is off here.”