There was little to pack, so we started our journey quickly. Amaia had smoked enough meat to last us for a good while, and if the river ahead was good to drink - which I assumed it was, hoped it was - then we would have those basic necessities cared for. Shelter would be another question, but if we were lucky and the weather stayed nice, we could continue to sleep under the stars. Not that I could long count on luck.
At one point I had had a tent, I realized, but I couldn’t recall what had happened to it. That was the case with many things, and it still irked me that my mace lay somewhere in Berenguer’s camp. But then the thought brought a smile to my face - he’s got to be so pissed right now. Let him have the mace. Something to remember me by.
That was a benefit of heading east, I supposed. No Berenguer.
I still had my drows, at least, and the slingshot with its six - seven - shots. If I started to make some significant money, I’d ask RENA for ball bearings, or something.
My armor, as I had recently observed, was near worthless, and below it, only jeans and a cotton shirt. Unbelievable that they had lasted that long, but they weren’t looking particularly hardy.
We went east, the rising sun in our eyes, the four of us. Towards the trees, evergreen, growing thicker and thicker as we drew closer to the water’s edge.
While I liked Lot and looked forward to his return, I had to admit that it was nice not having to keep looking over my shoulder to check if one of my party had killed another. It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours of it, and I had already been getting fed up with it - mostly angry with Cadoc, naturally. Naomi was the biggest nuisance now - though they were all nuisances in their own, special ways - and she spent most of the time pouting or complaining. But there was nothing to be done. Even if I had wanted to leave her behind, she was my ticket to a valuable reward. And I didn’t necessarily want to leave her behind. I did feel a sort of connection to these people. Maybe it was just parasitism, but it was real, whatever it was.
And what after the reward? If Naomi’s family gave me something valuable, but not valuable enough to pay off the debts?
I had ideas, though they were still nebulous at that point. Naomi’s reward would buy me time, if nothing else, and I hoped it would pay a good portion of the million. Then I’d start extracting value. There were many possibilities. Money was everywhere. I just had to get some money to begin with. Maybe it would even be enough to convince Dimen-X to send me some equipment- although having to buy equipment from your employer seemed absolutely ridiculous.
My mind, as we walked, was occupied often by these kinds of thoughts. The possibilities were overwhelming. Mining, maybe. I’ll get them to send some, well, I don’t know. Whatever miners use in modern times. Drills? Heavy machinery? That would be expensive, though.
Hours passed like this. If the others were talking with each other, it didn’t register. I may as well have been in another dimension.
I suppose that showed my trust in them. With Cadoc’s bloodthirsty eyes, and Amaia’s trained head on a swivel, I doubted anything would pass within a hundred yards of us without Cadoc challenging it to a duel.
Does this world have oil? I thought. That’d make me a million overnight, but again, how would I collect it? Have them send over an entire oil rig?
The problem is that even if oil isn’t particularly valuable in this dimension, it’s still expensive to extract. Or, relatively expensive, for me. I’m sure it’d be cheap for some oil company. Assuming there is even oil here in the first place, of course, which is not a given. I think. Isn’t oil dinosaur goop, or something? I suppose it’s possible that this world is too young to have oil yet. Maybe. Not exactly my area of expertise.
I should talk to Dimen-X again. Maybe they’d agree to buy information from me. I could tell them where oil was, or gold, or-
No. That’s right. They consider that part of the contract. Shit.
What I need, I thought, walking blindly, unaware of my surrounding except the barest consciousness needed not to run into a tree, is something that is worthless - or cheap - in this dimension, that is also easy to get, but is rare, expensive, or downright nonexistent on Earth.
Probably something magic. Rings, potions…
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Well, for now, I’m not exactly overflowing with magical artifacts. But I’ll keep my eye out.
What if some of the treasure I sent from Olsgolon was magic? Shit. I didn’t even think of that before. Fuckers would have gotten a freebie.
And there was always that option. Finding another dungeon.
I shook my head. No. Too inconsistent, too dangerous, and we’d have to find one in the first place. And they might not all have pack rats storing valuables inside.
I squinted and blinked as blinding light suddenly shone at my eyes. I put an arm before my face, walking forward slowly, trying to make out what was causing it. The light ducked in and out as I moved, the trees blocking the beams at times.
Then I realized what I was looking at. The river. Zinthur’s Blood.
I could see where it had gotten its name, though if my blood was that color, I’d be worried about my health. It’s was tinted a reddish-brown color like clay, and I assumed that is what caused the hue.
It flowed north like the Nile, and it was wide. I could see the far bank as we approached, but only just, and anything on the far side was little more than specks. There could be people - or monsters - on the other side, and I’d hardly be able to tell.
The trees grew sparser again until making way for a strip of hard clay along the water’s edge. I didn’t know enough about the natural sciences to know why any of this was the case.
I cautiously stepped onto the clay, half expecting it to sink and swallow me, but it held. I got closer to the water, and saw that it was actually quite clear - I had been worried it would be like drinking dirt. Instead, it was mostly the clay in the river’s bed that gave it its color - not the water itself.
I carefully plodded to the edge, stooped down, and cupped a bit of water in my hand. I drank.
“Tastes like clay,” I said. It was also surprisingly warm.
“What an observation,” Naomi said - she was also on the water’s edge, filling a canteen. “You are like, very wise, Miles. Next you’ll tell me how wet it is.”
I ignored her. She was very childish, really, and to answer every poke and prod would only encourage her, I thought.
Amaia and Cadoc filled canteens as well, and we stood there for a time, each admiring the raw beauty of nature. Or I was, at least. Perhaps the others were scheming, or laughing at me behind my back as I surveyed the river.
“Where now?” I asked.
Cadoc pointed. “Northwards, friends.”
Amaia cleared her throat. We turned to her - she had already taken a couple of steps back towards the tree line.
“Yes,” she said. “But in the trees. So we are not seen.”
“Seen?” I said. “By what?”
“Seen by monsters,” Amaia said simply.
“Some of us wish to be seen,” Cadoc said.
“Yes,” Naomi said, nodding. “I am now aware that some of us really wish to be seen.”
We stepped back into the thin forest and pressed north, though always keeping the river in our sights, off to our right.
The river bent in long curves, but Naomi assured us that we ought to follow every bend. The town her parents lived in was on the river, so if we kept it in view, we couldn’t miss it.
“What is the town like?” I asked as we walked, already having passed some hours travel in meditative silence.
“Dunno,” she said. “Never been.”
I stopped, and Amaia bumped into me - nearly bowled me over. “What?” I said.
“Never been,” she repeated. “They moved there about a year ago. Same time I started adventuring.”
“Why did they leave their homeland?” Cadoc asked. “Were they driven out?”
Naomi nodded. “Yes.”
“Then you get it from them,” he said. “Cowardice, that is. You do not have to be like your parents, you know. Bravery is a choice, always.”
I had other concerns. “But you’re certain you know where the town is?”
“Sure,” she said. “More or less. It’s on the river. What more do you want from me?”
“Well, while we’re on the subject,” I said. “What do you think we’ll get for our trouble? I mean, specifically.”
“Are you so set on that?” Naomi asked, suddenly annoyed - although she was always annoyed, then. “We’re going to Coernet, OK? Just, like, leave it alone. You’ll find out when you get there.”
This bristled me. “I seem to remember saving your life, what was it now, two times? Three times, even? I’ve done it so many times I lost count. I think I deserve the reward that you promised. I’m just asking questions, you don’t have to freak out.”
“And here I thought you saved me out of the kindness of your heart,” she said sarcastically.
“You know me better than that,” I said.
“I do.”
Another successful conversation with Naomi, I thought to myself. The reward had better be worth it.
When we made camp - a little clear spot among the trees - the three us who bothered with training got to it, while Naomi shouted encouragement or insults, as it suited her. Mostly she encouraged Amaia as she spared with Cadoc or I.
While Cadoc and Amaia traded blows with wooden sticks Cadoc had summoned, I took the time to experiment with my new powers.
I had wanted a gun. I wanted to be able to shoot nails from my fingertips, flaming balls of fire shot like bullets. And while it was disappointing not to have gotten it, I couldn’t be too angry.
I let the nails slide off of my hand, dripping like water droplets. If I didn’t melt them, they simply piled on the forest floor, and I soon had a little pyramid of nails. My supply of them seemed endless, though I knew it wasn’t. Eventually I would run out of mana. My first thought was to test what my limit was, but it quickly became apparent it would take all night to reach it. Melting or igniting would use it up much quicker, but simply creating nails was no strain at all.
I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with that information. I was shaping up to be a world-class arsonist, but that wasn’t exactly the same as a skill useful in combat.
In combat, melting them was obviously the move. That way they could fly through the air like thrown beads of wax when I flicked my wrist. Again this was an improvement over what I could do before - an improvement in range, an improvement in quantity, and even an improvement in the size of fire each nail created - but it was still limited. Outside of a few feet away, my shots were worthless. And if my arms were bound, or if I was in a narrow passageway, I wouldn’t be able to put my whole arm’s motion behind the flick, and my range would be measured in inches, not feet.
But remembering the way that basurd has squealed, boiled alive inside a casing of man-ivory, I couldn’t help but feel powerful.
Still, I wished I could shoot them. I wondered if there was a way. A method. Instead of letting the mana drip out of my fingertips, if I could instead build it there, hold it.
I thought of the unfortunate pissing anology again. If you try to piss when you don’t need to, you only get a dribble, at best. But if you can let it build, and hold it for a long time, you will eventually get one of those violent, even painful pees that blasts out with uncomfortable strength. I could try…
But I caught myself, froze, listening. A sound. A sound in the distance that made my skin crawl with recognition. The breeze must have carried it, because even in my relatively short exposure to them, I knew the sound to be that of one at ease, not attacking.
It was the squeaking and chittering of a Kalamuzi.