Chapter 3:
I sat back and tried to shift so that my swollen belly wasn’t so painfully sitting. The food had been delicious and plentiful. Rings of Mutock sausage, huge bird eggs from a monster called a Razorbeak, that we had picked up at the last market we passed through, strawberries that Mia had gathered from the Oasis, nuts, berries, fried root chips, dates, and thick and fluffy travel bread dipped in spiced oil. I had eaten my fill and more, and I was utterly stuffed, and strangely in need of a nap. Even with Boone stealing bites from my plate, and the bowls he could reach, it was still more than enough - and I thought again how weird it was that my families’ minds seemed to find excuses and just gloss over the fact that food disappeared down the invisible monsters’ endless (and superfluous) gullet.
But as we cleared and tidied the plates and wooden cutlery away, my family began to reach around for a few bags and packages wrapped in bright paper that had been tucked away out of sight, and I perked up at the idea of presents.
It was a strange feeling, admittedly, to feel childish excitement at something I knew I had long grown out of in my past life, but it had been the same with so many things that I had long learned to accept it. Physically, I was four years old, and while I may have an older soul, my brain was still that of a child, I was treated as a child, and I lived as a child. After a while I had accepted my new station in life, and even begun to enjoy the freedoms and restrictions that came with being small and mostly free of responsibilities. And presents were simply the best - ask anyone.
“Happy Birthday, Arcadia, mum said you were old enough now to have this, and I'm going to teach you how to use it.” Mia passed over a small bag, and I peeled it open to find the weight inside. There was a three inch hunting knife tucked down in the bag, with a soft leather sheath with a belt loop. Not just any knife, I recognised it was the one my father had given her for her own birthday last year. Her new knife, a larger bone handled one that she had earned through hard lessons after Father had begun to teach Mia to fight, was currently strapped to her side.
I glanced at my mother to see if she had actually agreed, to find a complicated expression on her face. She smiled and nodded, but I could see a worry in her eyes. “Only use it the way your sister shows you, okay? And by the lords be careful.”
“I will, Mama, don’t worry. Mia is so good with her knife now I'm sure I'll be fine.” It was true, my Sister had been given a knife by Father last year, and she had practised with it under his tutelage daily. She could do seemingly amazing things with the short blade now, and if I didn't know better, I would have believed she already had a Skill or talent for it. I thanked her profusely, before mother handed me over a heavy, wrapped rectangular package.
“This is the first part of a gift from myself and your Papa, but you will have to be patient for the other half of the gift,” She said, making eyes with Papa across the table, before meeting my fathers’ eyes and smiling. Papa coughed into his hand briefly. “That’s right. A tiny bit of patience and all will become clear.”
I ripped open the brightly coloured paper, to find a thick, leather bound book with a flap and a lock that was engraved with a tiny rune.
“We’ll show you how to use this tonight, but your Papa and I thought it was time you started to learn a little more of what we do when we aren’t travelling, as your sister has started to do.” Mother took my hand, and pressed my thumb to the rune on the lock. I felt a warm heat transfer from her hand, through mine, and into the lock, which glowed briefly with an orange light before it clicked open of its own accord. Inside, there was sheet after sheet of rich, black paper - a rarity of its own in the Divide, where the majority of writing was made on Papyrus made from beaten reeds. It was a lavish gift, and if I was a normal four year old, I might not recognise what it was - but having observed my parents for so long, I knew exactly what I held in my small hands.
My mother was a mage - a sorceress, technically, though I didn't know exactly what kind - who specialised in fire magic that complimented her Foxkin heritage. My Papa was a Runesmith who studied the ruins of the ancients that dotted the Great divide, and the world beyond, to channel magic via rune circles and enchantments. Both of them used their own variant of a Spellbook - a place where they could record and build their personal casting style via notes, runes, and recorded spells - and that’s exactly what this was. I hugged the book close to my chest and smiled a wide grin. Even though my core wouldn’t be able to gather essence to it for another 6 years, and I had no essence of my own, it meant they wanted to teach me the fundamentals of magic. I leapt from the table and danced with the book in my arms, hugging my Papa and mother and loudly telling them both how much I loved it. Magic - I would be learning magic from my parents, alongside my sister. At last!
“It will have to wait until the evenings Sprout - especially when we are busy or travelling, but yes. We will be teaching you how to read the Runes that the various cultures of the ancients left behind, and how they can be used.” Papa hugged me and patted me on the back. “I’ll have more to show you toward that tonight. But your Father has you for today, while mum and I work. He has your last gift - and what you and Mia will be doing today.”
My father cleared his throat and grinned, handing me a larger package that rattled and bumped as he handed it over.
It was a slim, shallow box, and I pried the top off in excitement. I'd hoped for new boots, or a new dress or something. But what I found instead was a complicated contraption with a leather cuff, and an articulated metal Y shaped protrusion that sat slightly proud and at an angle back toward where my elbow would sit when strapped in - with thick cord stretched between the arms of the Y. as well, there was a bag that seemed to contain nearly a hundred rounded stones. My knowledge from a previous life saw it and knew exactly what it was, having seen so many of them in children's cartoons and comics. It was a catapult - though it looked like one that was far more powerful than those I had seen made from wood and rubber. It was also designed so that it would strap to my arm, where it could be fired by holding one arm in the direction I wanted to shoot, and using the other hand to load and pull back the cord - both for sturdiness and ease of transport, I thought. Small runes that I didn't yet know the meanings for, but were most likely for accuracy and durability, I thought, had been carved into the leather and metal of the weapon. If the knife had made my mother uncomfortable, the catapult gave her near conniptions, but she managed to hold it down and smile through them in what I'm sure was meant to be a comforting manner. “I’ve got you for the morning, Sprout. It’s about time someone taught you how to shoot, and while you are far too small to hold a bow yet, this will do for now. So we’re going to be hunting sand rabbits while your mam and pap work. Lets see who can get more, eh? You, or your sister?”
He showed me how to strap the contraption on, and how to take it off again, before shooing me back toward the caravan, “Now go wash up, Sprout, and refill the tank when you're done from the oasis. You too, Mia - then help your sister get into some armour. It’s going to be a fun morning!” I looked at Mia, saw the light of competition brighten her feral yellow gaze, and grinned right back. If I had my way, I'd make sure it was absolutely fun, even if I did have to use Boone to cheat. The fox looked at me from where he was sneaking and devouring unattended eggs - both cooked and raw - and swallowed noisily. “You’re going to make me hate you today, aren’t you?” I smiled wider, before rushing for the shower and to change.
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Mia helped me get down my belongings from the bundle in the sleeping room, and she helped me to dress in light, linen trousers, soft boots, and a shirt with her older, simple leather armour over the top. The armour was made of old, but serviceable mutock leather, as most serviceable items were in tr divide, and was stubbly and scaled black, with many repair and resizing stitches making the pattern uneven, but still, it was the first time I'd worn it and it fit.
My hair was very long, and I had to tie it back and braid it heavily before Mother would let me leave the caravan - some aspect of my altered nature caused my hair to grow at a phenomenal rate, and it was heavy and stronger than hair should have any right to be. Every month we would cut it to just above my shoulder blades, and by month's end it would be nearly to my knees. It was something that had briefly concerned my family, when I was a baby, but as I said before, this world was full of strange energies. You only had to look at my sister's yellow, cat-like eyes to see that. Even without a race evolution, ‘human’ wasn't as cut and dry as it had been in my last life.
At the moment, if I left it unbound, it would be long enough to get in the way in the scrubby brush around the Oasis, so I was forced to braid it into a thick, heavy cable that sat just above my tailbone. I attached my new knife to my belt - though I had to promise not to draw it unless I was with someone who knew more. When we went outside again, my father helped me attach the slingshot to my left arm - my non-dominant hand. He showed me how to flick my wrist just so to lock the arms above my wrist, and how to tilt my clenched fist down so I wouldn't catch my knuckles with the flying stone. He quickly showed me how to hold the stone between two fingers and against my palm and how to roll it into the leather cup of the cable, and how to draw along the line of my arm, with my quivering hand as close to my mouth as possible. It would make the final shot travel at 45° from my hand, thus protecting my fingers just that little more, and should produce quite a lot of force and damage if I could manage to hit a target. Then he handed me a water canteen and an empty sack in case I caught something.
Boone tagged along and made snarky comments whenever he saw something that amused him, but very quickly we left a waving Mum and Papa to head out into the bush, Mia with a short bow that she had had for her own birthday - her physical strength was a little higher than mine and even at 6 she was starting to show compact muscle under my father's training. My father carried a solid, compact crossbow loosely in his arms, with his great bow sat across his shoulders. As part of his class - Arcane Archer, my father was granted supernatural strength to be able to draw the steel cable of that bow, and the arrow heads could drill through solid stone at 100 paces, but it was useless for hunting small game - there simply wouldn't be enough left of the critter to put into a pot. He carried it merely as protection against the threat of monsters - a hopefully unlikely occurrence at such a small oasis, but an unfortunate fact of life in the Divide.
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On Axis, the strange energies, magic and essence that surfused every aspect of the world also gave birth to horrible, violent creatures out of both dreams and nightmares. Everything from horned rabbits to great dragons, if the legends were to be believed, and every monstrosity in between haunted the uncivilised places of the world. Living as much as we did outside of the walled great cities that dotted the larger oases and the lands beyond the desert, even in my short life, I had had reason to fear creatures that would come out of the sands to attack our caravan.
Over the course of a couple of hours, my Father took us along the bank of the Oasis - we gathered reeds and nuts, berries and seeds as we went, sealing them into folded paper packages so they wouldn't squash in our packs. My father also began to point out various tracks, spore and droppings of local wildlife and even monsters that clearly made regular trips to the water. In a desert like the Great Divide, oases were a common meeting point of many different species that relied on the water to survive the otherwise harsh sands, and there was clear evidence of predator and prey using the water side by side.
There were clear signs of habitation too - especially by our prey of the day, Sand Rabbits. They weren't anything like the rabbits I remembered from my previous life. There were no floppy ears or cottontail. Sand rabbits were closer to plump rats, if I was honest, with long, thin bodies and tails and nasty claws and teeth. They were naturally adapted to survive, and their bodies were coated in a fine layer of adhesive hair that collected sand and stone and glued it together into fairly solid scales over their bodies. From a distance they were indistinguishable from piled clumps of slightly damp sand, unless you knew what you were looking for - or could cheat.
Boone had been paying, if anything, even closer attention than I did to the lessons. Something about the spirit meant he could record and recite things perfectly - as though he had a photographic memory - and I sent him to scout out and rustle out any Sand Rabbits that he found.
Unfortunately, even with this tactic, I didn't get the first kill. The new catapult was unusual, if at least simple to use, and my first shot as a rabbit was driven towards us was off centre, skipping off of it's shoulder armour and spinning it around.
It saw us, and tried to scamper away, only for an arrow from my sister to pierce it through the ribs as it ran. I watched it go still, and Mia jumped in the air and whooped, before sticking her tongue out at me. "Well done, Mia. That will be a plump rabbit for a stew." My father congratulated Mia as she went to collect her prize and retrieve her arrow. He laid a hand across my shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "Don't be discouraged, Sprout. That was your first shot and you still hit it. A moving target at 20 paces! Very well done!" His words cheered me up and I resolved myself to getting the next kill myself.
Unfortunately, as would be proven, a year of training very much worked better than enthusiasm, and by noon, when the sun was at its highest and uncomfortable for all of us, even with cheating I had only managed to bag two Rabbits, as opposed to Mias' eight. She had them strung in a line and hung over one shoulder as we walked back to camp, happily humming a tune with her eyes closed and her chin held high. I felt a distinct amount of unkind thoughts toward my sister, but I'd get her back eventually. "Don't be down, Arcadia. If you want, when we get back, I'll show you how to use that knife to skin them ready for mum!" She declared proudly. But, I had seen what skinning rabbits looked like, and I wasn't sure if having my hands covered in blood and viscera would be a good thing or not. Mia was definitely more like my father than I was - that kind of thing excited the rough and tumble girl to no end. I, on the other hand, would rather have my hands coated in ink and pencil lead, safely tucked up inside. My Papas’ work was endlessly fascinating to me, and the thought of one day being able to make real magic was far more my speed than butchery and combat. This was Mias’ perfect environment, and I was sure when she turned 10, she would become some kind of warrior when my parents gifted her whatever Constellation stones they had selected for her.
I definitely took after Mother and Papa. I blamed my unfortunately adult mind and my memories of my previous world for it. When I was a baby, I'd been basically unable to move for months and months, and I think I would have gone insane if it wasn't for Boone and a trick we learned we could do. He could allow me to borrow his eyes, his sight, and as he was invisible, I'd spend long days exploring, or reading Papas' books and learning things about the world through his eyes. It was endlessly fascinating, this world of magic, and all I wanted to do was study it, use it, and master it. Thinking about the lessons I had been promised that night and all my nights in the future was probably why I was quite distracted when Boone spoke into my mind.
Arcadia, there is something wrong. Boone didn't often speak directly into my mind if he didn't need to, and when he did I listened. There is an area off to your left that I cannot see, or smell. It is as if something is blocking my senses. I stopped in my tracks and made sure not to look anywhere near my left as I plucked my Father's shirt and pulled him to a halt.
"Something wrong Sprout? Don't let your sister get to you. She did very well but you did brilliantly for your first time shooting." He turned on his heel and squatted so he could look me in the eye. Then he saw I looked nervous, not sad. "What is it?"
"I don't know. Something feels very off to the left. As if there's a place where I can't see or hear what is there. It's scary." He looked me in the eye, nodded to himself, and took a deep, slow breath. With practiced motions he laid down his crossbow and began to, slowly, take his large bow off of his back.
"I believe you. There are things in these deserts that can hide, and often it is luck that spots them, not experience. Try not to panic. I want you to, very carefully, catch up to your sister. Trust me that you are in little danger with me and your parents here, but I want you both to be safe. Tell her that, when you hear me shout, you need to start running for the caravan. I will be right behind you, alright?" He drew one of his massive arrows from his quiver, and handed me his crossbow - the weight of it pulled my arms toward the ground. I nodded, and stiffly walked past him, catching up to Mia as she slowed to see what was taking so long. I took her by the arm and guided her away, back on to the path.
"Don't look. Dad wants us to run when he shouts." Mias' brow creased, and her hand went to her knife, but she nodded, and started walking again. I heard the rasp of Father drawing his massive bow, and the impact as he leapt backwards, giving range and height through his massively powerful leap. "[Concussive Arrow]!" He yelled, giving voice to a magic infused attack, and Mia and I broke into a sprint at the words, our short legs and arms pumping as we burst to as fast a pace as we could manage. The air tore behind me, and there was a thundering boom of a sonic explosion. Something screamed, high pitched and unnatural, and Mia and I ran as fast as our legs would carry us."Run, children! I'm right behind you!"
I spared one second to look back, seeing my father backing away from an enormous black carapace. It took me a moment to understand what I was looking at, before the great, segmented tail lifted into the air. A scorpion. A scorpion the size of a small car. I worried for my father, but I didn't see anything I could do to help. I urged myself to run faster, and turned my mind to the Fox I shared a soul with.
Boone is there anything you can do? That this is massive!
The fox was charging close to our heels, and it glanced back at the giant arachnid with fear in his eyes, just as my father loosed another arrow, yelling "[Armour Piercing Shot]" The immense arrow fired like a cannon from the bow, and buried itself in the armoured carapace of the beast. It did little to slow it, and it reached for my father with massive, scissoring claws.
I…I don't know. I'm just a fox. I turned back, again, and saw my father loose more arrows that glowed with various skills as he fired them "[Splitting shot], [Echoing Shot], [Sparking Shot]" Each skill made the giant scorpion stumble, but it would surge back again a second later.
We were almost at the caravan, and I saw Mother looking out a window and shouting, suddenly, to my Papa. I looked back and saw my father stumble. He tripped on a string of Sand Rabbits that Mia had dropped in our race.
I let go of my sister, I turned, tried to race back to my father as he fell. I saw Boone stare at me in horror as I raced toward my Dad. I saw the Scorpion rise up, saw the tail raise and begin to speed forward. I heard my Mother begin to scream. Then I heard Boone Speak. <_____>.
The scorpion, about to dig its barbed stinger into my Father, was forced back as though a giant hand had reached down and slapped it. I felt sudden wetness on my face and I realised my ears and nose were bleeding; Mias' too. I didn't know what Boone had said, my brain couldn't comprehend it and it left a blank spot on my mind. But it was enough that my father could scramble up. I saw Boone topple over, fall sideways and our soul hurt. I scooped him into my arms and held him against me, invisible and in pain.
My father dived backwards, turning as he did so, as a roaring sound ripped through the air, and fire engulfed the scorpion.
It screamed, long and loud, an ear piercing wail as it danced back and forth in the roiling flames, as my Mother slowly walked toward us. My Father joined us, and checked Mia and myself, as the scorpion cooked. I couldn't drag my eyes away from it. I watched it burn. As it died it rolled onto it's back, legs curling up into the air. I gripped my Father's leg and held on as tightly as I could. What was that thing?
"Remember children - this is why we teach you weapons at such a young age, years before you unlock your systems. This is why we teach you magic and runes in the hopes to make you stronger, and this is why we do not keep you safe behind a cities' walls any longer." My mother clenched a fist and the fire went out, without even smoke, releasing a wave of cooked meat stench. "Because this world is full of secrets and monsters, and it wants only the strong to move forward."