“You seem to have done pretty well for yourself,” Zeke said, leaning against the railing and trying to ignore the thousands of feet worth of open air separated him from the ground. The last time he’d been on an airship, it had crashed well before they reached their destination. Since then he’d avoided that particular mode of travel, even if it probably would have made some of his trips much easier.
“I can’t complain,” Tucker responded with a grin, his eyes locked on the helm. Iris wasn’t steering the ship, but she hovered near the pilot, clearly struggling with giving up that control. Zeke had met the woman only the day before, and he’d found her to be a perfect counterpart for Tucker. While he was a bit carefree – especially with his own life – she was exacting and detail-oriented, as befitted a successful pirate.
Or privateer, as Tucker kept insisting. Zeke didn’t know if there was an actual difference between the two, aside from semantics.
“I do wonder why you never came looking for me. I thought that was why you put your mark on me in the first place,” Tucker remarked. He didn’t seem angry, but rather, he was only curious.
“Other priorities,” Zeke answered honestly. “Of everyone, I thought you were the best suited to take care of yourself. Talia can as well – as I discovered – but she wasn’t in a great place when we ascended. I was more worried about her than anyone else.”
“Even Abby?” Tucker asked.
“Different kind of worry,” Zeke stated. He didn’t hate Abby, and his resentment for her had faded with time. There was still no chance he’d ever go back to her. His previous feelings had been replaced by apathy, at least in regard to their relationship, and he was self-aware enough to recognize that they’d never been well-suited for one another in the first place. Back then, he’d craved company so strongly that he had never even stopped to wonder if it was right for either of them.
It wasn’t.
He’d come to that conclusion only a few months after their separation. But at the time, he’d been blinded by the fact that he’d spent years alone.
“She was quite beautiful, too,” added Eveline in his mind.
“Still is, according to Talia. But that’s not the point.”
“It’s at least part of the point, Ezekiel. You found her attractive. That’s okay to admit,” she said.
“Weren’t you ignoring me? Can we go back that?” he asked.
“Don’t be silly.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Tucker said. “I never would have said this before, but I found her off-putting from the first.” He gripped Zeke’s shoulder. “You’re better off without her.”
“Thanks,” Zeke responded. Then, he shook his head and grinned as he changed the subject. “I still can’t believe you became a sky pirate. I’m eager to meet your friends, though. Do you think they’ll want to integrate into the tower?”
“Probably not,” Tucker answered. “But it’s probably best for them. They have an independent streak, though. And the kobolds will remind them that they’re not so far from monsters.”
“I’m standing right here,” breathed Athis, the huge lizard-man that was Tucker’s friend. He looked a lot like a kobold, though there were plenty of differences to set him apart. He was slightly broader than most – save for Silik, who’d grown into a true specimen of koboldanity.
“That is not a word,” Eveline said.
“It should be.”
She responded with a mental roll of her eyes, though she didn’t say anything else.
Tucker glanced at his friend, saying, “Don’t get surly. Nobody likes you when you show your moody side.”
“I’m not moody. I just don’t like being compared to a monster.”
“So, you really don’t think that is your people’s true origin?” Tucker asked.
“We are descended from dragons.”
Zeke cut in, “I met a dragon a while back. I wasn’t really impressed.”
“You met a dragon? Really? How big was it?”
Before Zeke could answer tucker’s question, Athis asked, “Which one was it? Keltarion the Vile? The Red Dread? The –”
“Um…are those real names? They don’t sound real,” Zeke remarked. “But I didn’t ask its name. I just hit it a few times and its mom came by and told me off. Kind of rude, actually. It wasn’t like I picked the fight. That thing came at me. I just put it in its place.”
Athis winced and let out a hiss. “You…hit a dragon a few times? How are you still alive?”
“I’m pretty hard to kill.”
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“So, how big was it?” Tucker asked again. “And most importantly, did you get any of its blood? Please tell me you killed and looted it. I can’t imagine there’s anything more inherently magical than dragon’s blood.”
“Nope, sorry. I did get some leviathan blubber the other day, though. Nasty creature. Kind of a shark and an octopus merged into an eldritch horror,” Zeke explained. “There are probably a lot of poison glands and such in storage, though. I recently ran a disease-and-poison based dungeon that was extremely unpleasant. It was filled with all sorts of stinging and biting creatures. I looted most of them, including the final boss that…ugh. I don’t even want to talk about that one. My point is that if there’s anything that could of use to someone with your skillset, it’s probably that.”
“Still wish you’d have gotten me some dragon blood.”
“Who are you?” Athis asked.
Zeke blinked. “Uh…I’m Zeke. I thought I introduced myself to you’re a few days ago…”
“No. Not your name, human.”
“Cambion.”
“What?”
“I’m not human. I used to be, but that changed during my first trip to Hell. So, I’m a cambion now. Part demon. Part human.”
“But not a demonkin,” said Eveline, who’d suddenly flickering into visibility. Pointedly, she didn’t look like a succubus, but rather a beautiful human woman. That was probably best, because Athis looked like he was going to be sick. Though Zeke had to admit that he wasn’t the best judge of lizard-man expressions. For instance, he could never tell what Silik was thinking.
“That’s because he’s expressionless even for a kobold,” Eveline said aloud.
“What?” Athis asked.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” Tucker said, doffing his hat and giving Eveline a little bow. “My name is Eric Tucker, and I’m one of the richest pirates in the world. Likely the preeminent alchemist as well.”
“Oh, we’ve met, Mr. Tucker,” she said, her eyes flashing with corruption. It only lasted a second, but it left no question as to who she was.
“Ah, Miss Eveline. I didn’t recognize you.”
Zeke noticed Iris’ eyes flick in their direction, but surprisingly, she didn’t abandon her post. Perhaps she wasn’t the jealous type – no small feat considering the look Eveline had adopted.
“All is forgiven, Mr. Tucker,” she said, smiling demurely. “But to your conversation, the tower could truly assist your people, Mr. Athis.”
“Just Athis.”
Eveline bowed her head. “So it is. Know that we will welcome you within the tower. You will have a place. A true home where the threat of enslavement need not hang over your heads.”
“So you say,” Athis replied. “I don’t have the authority to speak for anyone else, though. I left that behind when I joined this idiot.”
“Who’s a bigger idiot? The idiot himself? Or the man who follows him?”
“You’re both idiots,” said a nearby half-elven sailor. She was the first mate, if Zeke remembered correctly, though he couldn’t recall her name.
“I resent that,” Tucker said.
“Doesn’t make it untrue,” she countered.
“I think we’re getting off-track here,” Zeke cut in. “The only point we were trying to make is that if you and your people need a home, there’s one for you in the tower, Athis. Just putting the ball into your court. It’s up to you if you want to play.”
“Through context clues, I understand what you’re trying to say, but that idiom makes no sense to me. Why would you throw a ball into a court? Wouldn’t the adjudicator be angry?” asked Athis.
“It’s a sports metaphor, man,” Tucker said.
“Ugh. Like the gladiator games in Westport?”
“Less about killing people and more about scoring points,” Tucker answered.
“What’s the point if no one dies?”
“Fun, my friend. That’s it.”
“Doesn’t sound fun.”
At that the pair wandered off, bickering back and forth about the merits of competition. To Zeke, it felt like he was watching friends who’d been together for years. But then again, that was precisely the case. Athis had picked Tucker up only a little while after his ascension. And they’d been together ever since.
“You make it sound like they’re an old married couple,” Eveline said in his mind, having disappeared the moment she no longer had an audience. “And that’s not fair. I find that people are more receptive when I can speak to them directly and they can see me.”
“You were practically falling out of your dress.”
“It’s fashion, Ezekiel. And I won’t be told how to dress.”
“You can’t technically wear clothes at all. You just conjure what you want on the illusion you create, and –”
She huffed and retreated to the back of his mind. That hadn’t been Zeke’s primary goal, but he wasn’t going to argue with the results. He didn’t mind having Eveline around, but there were times when he wanted a little peace, quiet, and privacy. Even if it was just an illusion.
He turned around and once again, his eyes found the forest’s canopy. Every now and again, that green expanse was broken up by small towns, fields, or lakes. Still, the scope of it all was daunting. He’d been in the Eternal Realm for a while, but he’d not seen even a small fraction of it.
Was that his fate? To progress so rapidly that he never had a chance to experience any of it? There had to be more to life than to simply push for the next skill, for the next level, and the next point on his status.
He had Adara, but he wasn’t certain if that was real. He liked her. And he loved being with her. She understood him, and he thought he understood her in turn. Yet, there was a part of him that thought it was nothing more than a fling.
It was probably his fault. He hadn’t committed to the relationship. Not truly. He just didn’t have time, what with the war and the quest. And things weren’t going to slow down anytime soon, either.
But maybe they needed to.
Zeke thought about going on a sightseeing trip around the world. It could take years. Decades, even. As far as he knew, the Eternal Realm was much larger than Earth had been. Given that, it would require decades – maybe centuries to see everything it had to offer.
“Don’t be stupid.”
“What?” he asked Eveline.
“You heard what I said. Ezekiel, I love you, but you’re not the sort of person who could be happy in that kind of a situation. You’d get bored after a few weeks,” she said. “And that’s the optimal scenario. Much worse is if you actually liked it. It would be catastrophic to your development. You’d end up squandering your potential, and for what? So you can see a bunch of things millions – if not billions – of other people have already seen? You’re better than that.”
“What do you mean? I can always just pick up where I left off.”
“Momentum isn’t just an ephemeral concept. It’s a real thing. If you stop progressing, it’s much more difficult to restart the engine. You could gain levels, certainly, but finding the motivation to go above and beyond would grow much harder. It would be a life wasted.”
Zeke shook his head, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he imagined growing old with Adara. What if they had children? A home. What if he built the kobolds into a real nation, nurturing them until they were accepted as people?
“That’s what people who can’t keep going do,” Eveline said. “I know you’re burned out right now. Take a few days. A week or two. Explore this city we’re going to visit. And if you’re still feeling this way, perhaps we can discuss what to do going forward.”
“Okay,” Zeke agreed.