Toren Daen

I watched a few mages covertly observing the buildings near the old temple from my hiding space. They were certainly on the lookout for somebody, and considering their location, it was easy to guess who.

“How did they follow me?” I said with a whisper, peering through the small gap in the bricks. I was in the entrance to some sort of secret tunnel, guided by the Rats once I was alerted to my conundrum. The mages were keeping an eye on the location I was at before entering the old temple for my meeting. “Scratch that, how did I not notice them?”

Even if I couldn’t tell when the Rat was a foot behind me, I was still proud of the senses I had honed in the Clarwood Forest. That these people supposedly trailed me for so long was a blow to that pride.

I was behind a brick wall that moved after Naereni had stepped on some sort of pressure plate, allowing it to swing inward and allow us through. A small summoned will-o’-wisp hovered around my head, providing a bit of light for me in the darkness. Karsien leaned against a nearby wall, flanked by Hofal and Naereni. “The Bloods have informants all over the city,” he said. “Considering it took them nearly an hour to track you here is a testament to how weak those nets are in East Fiachra. And they weren’t trailing you directly, merely following clues left behind. I wonder how much luck you have left after this?”

He pushed off the wall, moving down the passage. At the end was a circular trap door that opened with a simple kick. “Extinguish that fire for me, will you?”

I looked at my little speck of fire. “Is there light down there?” I asked, peeking over the edge of the trapdoor. The entrance rank like something hellish. “Damn,” I said, backing away. “What’s that smell?” It was like a mix of rotten eggs, feces, and a dozen other things I would rather not guess at.

Naereni snickered at my gagging, then dropped down the chute without a second thought. I thought I caught a note of pity in Hofal’s face as he followed after. “That’s Fiachra’s sewer system. Fun fact about sewage, Toren Daen: Sewer gas is mostly composed of methane.”

I looked over at my little ball of light. “Noted,” I said, extinguishing the fire. I didn’t need a gas explosion down there.

“You coming?” Karsien asked.

“Yeah,” I said, resignation in my bones. I had tried so hard to keep myself clean.

I dropped down into the sewers.

—

The stench could be weathered. I could block it out eventually after getting used to it, and my sense of smell was pretty weak anyways. The rotten eggs and feces could slowly drift to the back of my perception.

The sensation of wading through the muck, however, would stick with me till the day I died. It was viscous and sloppy, resisting my movement with each step. The flow of sewage barely came up past my ankles, but the mudlike consistency gripped my boots with malicious greed.

“Never swam in filth, Toren?” Naereni asked from ahead. She was enjoying this far too much.

I opened my mouth to respond, then gagged on the taste. Oh god, I was going to brush my teeth for an hour after this.

The Young Rat cackled, while Karsien snorted. Hofal patted me on my back goodnaturedly. “You’ll get used to it eventually,” he said. “I like to think about the history of this place. Did you know that these tunnels were first constructed over two hundred years ago? They haven’t had regular maintenance in nearly a century, but they still function without much oversight. A wonder of architecture.”

I had a hard time appreciating the big shield’s words. Did I want to get used to this? I felt something push around my feet. I shuddered in place. “I think something just brushed past my leg,” I said. No, I was not whining.

“Probably a musk crab,” Naereni said, noting my nerves. The entire group trudged on with surety, taking branching paths and turns with confidence. They clearly knew where they were going. “They’re these tiny little crustacean mana beasts that feed on the sewer gas and leave behind cleaner air. Pretty harmless.”

Christ, things lived in this muck? I thought back to my escapades in the Clarwood Forest and the waves of quivering chitin that had surrounded the expedition. Anything with more than four legs, I decided for the second time, did not deserve to live. Even if they contributed to zero greenhouse gasses. Naereni snickered again as I shuddered.

“You’re not the only one to hate the sewers,” Hofal said, peeking around a corner. “Naereni tormented one of our other members a while back, too. He eventually adapted. Now she needs another person to mess with.”

“Other member?” I said, fighting past the urge to gag at the taste. “I thought you three were all there were,” I finished.

“We have a couple more members of our band,” Karsien said. “We all have our roles here. What you see here are our combat forces.”

I followed the Rats as they made another turn. “You’re awfully honest about your operations with me,” I said slowly. “I don’t see why you’re trusting me with this information.”

Karsien peeked over his shoulder. “Who says I’m being honest with you, Toren? In fact, I could be leading you into a dastardly trap, set to sell you off the Joans themselves!”

Seeing how I wasn’t reacting to that non-explanation, Hofal interrupted. “Well, the truth is, Toren, that we know a lot more about you than you think. Considering what we know about you and who told us, it's enough to warrant a measure of trust.”

Slightly disconcerted by Hofal’s frankness, I was about to ask what he knew when the group paused. The leader of the Rats tapped in several places in the dark walls of the tunnel. The bricks folded away as if by magic, allowing a stream of light to stream out of the opening.

“And we’re home!” he said, walking into the light.

I followed, but a hand held me back. I blinked, adjusting to the glare. Hofal held up some sort of artifact, offering it to me. I took it, confused as to its purpose.

“It blows very, very cold air,” he said. “Use it on your boots. It helps get rid of the gunk on your feet from traipsing around the sewers. You don’t want to track that all over your new home. The tiles aren’t treated to withstand the residue, and they’ll corrode.”

I nodded thankfully, using the artifact on my boots. I supplied it with a steady flow of mana, the little device lighting up as it activated. It looked like a blow-drier, but the air that pushed out of it was far below freezing. As the cold iced over my shoes, the sludge that was coating my boots shriveled and froze, then cracked and chipped off the leather.

Not even a stain was left behind. Hofal took the artifact back from my thankful hands, using it on his own feet.

I surveyed where the Rats had led me. It was a wide space, but the similar architecture to the outside sewers told me it wasn’t carved separately. Lighting artifacts hung on the side of thick stone support pillars, giving the place a low light that allowed me to see with ease. The floor was surprisingly free of water, except for small patches near the entrance. At the center of the room, a tall opening let in bits of natural light, the rays creating a warmer feel than I’d expected.

I noticed a few interesting sights almost immediately. A few wood training dummies on one end of the room hinted at a training area, while a large map of Fiachra against one wall with a large table and several chairs might’ve been a meeting ground.

“Welcome to our glorious abode,” Karsien said, sweeping his arm to display the room. “Here we plan the downfall of the wealthy and consort with demons, though not necessarily in that order.”

I took off my metal mask, storing it in my dimension ring at last. My hair was slick with sweat from the humid sewers, but this little hideout was a bit chilly. “It’s nicer than I expected,” I said. “Considering I waded through a mile of sewage to get here.”

Karsien shrugged. “For now, make yourself comfortable. Explore, find your rooms, steal a coin or two. This is the safest place for you until the manhunts calm down. We call it the Cistern, as that’s what it used to be before we requisitioned it for more noble purposes.” The leader of the Rats nodded toward his protege. “Mind settling him in?” he asked.

Naereni nodded. “Got it, Kar.” She waved at me to follow her, then broke off toward an archway that lead out of sight. With a moment of hesitation, I followed after her. She led me into an adjacent chamber. Several doors were fitted along the wall, and these looked decidedly out of place compared to the rest of the architecture.

Naereni opened one, allowing me a peek inside. There was a simple pallet bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There was a light fixture on the wall that illuminated the room. It had a homier feel than I would’ve thought from an underground hideout.

The Young Rat pointed at the bed. “That one’s yours. Few rules around here: first, don’t be a dick,” she said bluntly. “Treat others with respect, don’t steal from each other if you’ll get caught doing so, and don’t bring anyone unapproved into the Cistern. Also, if Hofal tries to tell you the history of the stonework here, ignore him.”

I raised a brow. “I thought there was no honor among thieves,” I said, taking off my cloak. Instead of setting it on my new end table, I willed it into my dimension ring.

Naereni rolled her eyes. “Considering we only steal from well-to-do bastards like those Joans you hate so much, I’d say we’re more principled than half the people in this city.”

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I hummed, then lay down on the bed. It was certainly nicer than the rooftop I’d lived on for the past few days.

“The privy’s that way, along with the shower and bath. There’s only one shower, and I get dibs first thing in the morning,” she said, gesturing toward another entryway.

“That another rule?”

“It comes before all the others,” Naereni said. “I’m second in command here, so I can make that a rule.”

After a few more instructions on what I could do–apparently, I should be careful taking out the brick of the wall to make secret compartments, as the structure was old and might not take that well–Naereni left to do other things. I was left alone on my new bed, contemplating this changing situation.

On a whim, I retrieved my notebook from my dimension ring. The journal was one of the few items I owned that had the sigil of Named Blood Daen stamped on it, but the information it held contained information more dangerous than anything I owned.

I hadn’t managed to write an entry in the past few days since tracking the expedition, so I took the chance to do so now. My pen wrote in what would be a gibberish mishmash of letters and symbols to unsuspecting eyes.

In fact, it was a cipher designed to ward away prying eyes. This journal held all the information I could remember of The Beginning After the End, and it was time to add another entry.

Company of the Rat: Small-time thieving gang acting against Bloods centered in Fiachra. At least five members. Motivated by greed, preservation, or something else? Offered me help and information. Implied to have significant knowledge of Toren. Trustworthy?

After a moment, I underlined ‘trustworthy.’ It would be important to learn what drove this group. Karsien stated I could leave when my vengeance was done, but that was only verbal assurance. I was locked into this path right now, but gathering information was key.

I continued to jot down miscellaneous observations and key details of the past couple of days.

“And who might that be for?” A voice said from beside me.

My fist whipped out before I was even aware, a shroud of vibrating sound wrapping my strike.

It missed the target. Karsien leisurely sidestepped my strike, his coat of mist rippling slightly as my attack slid past.

“Damn it,” I said, exhaling a breath. I snapped my notebook shut, glaring at the man. “Could you just not?” I asked, exasperation clear in my voice.

Karsien hadn’t taken off his mask, but his bandana was lowered. I now knew he was smirking at me.

“Detailing our devious operations already, Toren? I didn’t take you for a spy,” he said, eying my notebook.

I clutched it tighter unconsciously. A flicker of worry that he could understand the words on my pages surfaced in my mind, but a quick thought quelled that. The code I used to scramble text was significant and complicated. It wouldn’t be easy to decipher my writing, especially not from a glance. His guess was accurate not because he could read what I wrote, but because it was logical.

I banished the notebook to my dimension ring. “I don’t appreciate being spied on, Karsien,” I said. Then after a beat, “You’ve been trusting of me, but I still don’t know you or your motives. I reserve a right to some privacy.”

Karsien tilted his head. “Is it spying if I simply wait in plain sight?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well. I was going to offer a way to alleviate those concerns of yours, though.” He nodded toward the main area of the Cistern. “Come on, Toren.”

I sighed, then pulled myself off the bed. Karsien led me to the small area with wooden practice dummies.

On closer inspection, I could see a clearly delineated area between the support beams, about fifty feet in diameter. Naereni was stretching in the middle, going through some clear combat warmups.

I stepped in, surveying the area. The floor here was smoother than the bricks elsewhere in the Cistern.

“So you’ll be my sparring partner, then?” Naereni asked, pulling on her foot to stretch out her leg.

I looked to Karsien, who stood on the edge. “It seems that way,” I said. “Though I don’t understand why.”

Karsien filled me in, thankfully. “You’ll be helping us liberate trapped assets soon, Toren, but we don’t know how you fight. Getting a feel for your style would do wonders in forming teamwork.”

I frowned, but stepped into the ring. “Was how I fight not one of the many things you supposedly know about me?” I said.

Karsien shrugged. “Practical experience always trumps second-hand knowledge.” So they probably didn’t know everything I could do. Good to know. “Anyway, standard point sparring rules. No maiming, no fatal spells, stay inside the ring, and try to have fun!”

I blinked, wanting to ask some questions, but never got the chance.

Naereni rushed me the moment Karsien finished his sentence. She lashed out with a speedy left hook. I ducked the strike hastily, but a knee coated in ice nearly clipped my chin. I used a push of telekinesis to help myself dodge, the flare of white mingling with the frosty blue of my opponent’s knee.

“How come you get to stretch?!” I snapped. Naereni simply grinned in response.

I unsheathed my dagger deftly, using it to deflect a few thin slivers of ice Naereni had thrown in my retreat. I retaliated by conjuring a dozen small fireballs in the air, then willing them to hurtle toward the thief-by-trade. They whistled toward my foe, casting odd shadows as they moved.

Naereni dodged a few, which impacted the floor with a small scorch mark. “Too slow, Toren!” she called in a singsong voice. “Maybe if you trained for another hundred years, you’d hit the mark!”

My fireballs were intentionally weakened, but would still singe if they hit. The young mage conjured a small buckler of solid ice over her forearm, using the wide surface area to deflect the fireballs she couldn’t dodge.

I rushed forward, telekinetic pushes helping me close the distance far faster than otherwise. Naereni spotted me coming, her eyes widening in shock. She threw a handful of icy caltrops into my path, causing me to stumble to avoid spearing my feet. With my advance disrupted, Naereni conjured a particularly long staff of ice. She used it to vault over the spikey ice constructs, aiming an ice-covered roundhouse kick at me as she flew. She used the anchor it provided to add extra leverage to her attack.

“You’re open!” she cried, spinning with force.

The leg flashed in my peripheral vision, a promise of at least a minor concussion if it landed.

A dozen different options zipped through my mind, but I settled on one rapidly. I was still off balance from halting my advance so quickly, but I could still use my telekinesis rune. I strengthened my left arm with as much mana as I could in the last split second, raising it beside my head to block. A flickering of fire coated the limb, hopefully able to offset the force of the ice.

I whipped my right arm, still holding my dagger, out to the side as quickly as possible. I pushed hard against the ground with my telekinesis, but measured the output to be a more constant push rather than launching me.

Naereni’s shin rocked against my fire-coated forearm, sending a shudder through my entire body. It felt like I had been hit by a metal bat instead of a leg. The push I used against the ground helped bolster me against the opposing force, allowing me to stand against the blow despite my rickety balance. The ice around Naereni’s shin shattered, blowing out the fire around my arm in the process. The mana shroud around my limb almost crumpled from the force.

I stood my ground. Naereni’s attack hadn’t accounted for such a sturdy block. She was left off-balance, tipping backward in the air. I wasn’t going to let her regain her footing. Using another telekinetic push, I added a decent bit of force to a fist-sized area around her stomach. My spell glimmered white, then impacted the young rogue’s unprotected gut.

Her eyes widened as she wheezed. She toppled onto her back with a groan, the pole of ice she used forgotten.

“That’s what you get for trying to knock my head off,” I said with relish. I shook my arm, trying to work feeling back into it. Damn, that’s going to bruise badly.

I sheathed my dagger, then offered the young woman a hand. My right one this time, since my left arm didn’t agree with her prior treatment of it. Naereni took my hand, allowing me to help her to her feet. She was still trying to catch her breath.

Karsien clapped from the sidelines. “Good show, Toren. Smart use of your power’s versatility,” he said. “Naereni, you need to work on not overcommitting on your attacks. You were left too open after Toren blocked your attack.”

I winced. Naereni managed to nail me in the arm exactly where the skaunter had taken a rip out on my first day in this world. It had healed over with only a slight scar, but I needed to stop putting my body through such rigorous treatment.

Naereni looked disgruntled at the criticism, but she nodded along as Karsien told her a few points where she could’ve done better. “Your last attack had far too much force behind it, too. Not good for a spar.”

Then the man turned to me. I felt a bit nervous, as my only combat teacher had been Lady Dawn. She had given me many pointers on combat form and how to handle myself, but she couldn’t actually spar with me to help me hone my instincts and skills. This was new.

“You’re good, Toren. Better than I expected, but there are some glaring flaws with how you approached this match.”

“How so?” I asked. I thought I had performed well in my first magic spar. “I played by your rules; even won the match.”

Naereni pouted from the side.

“The most important thing you need to fix? You overcommitted.”

I frowned. “I didn’t make any attack I couldn’t conceivably recover from,” I said, thinking of how Naereni had been left wide open after her kick. I hadn’t done anything like that. “I don’t see your point.”

“I never said you overcommitted to an attack,” Karsien replied. “You took a very dangerous risk at the very end. When my protege threw that kick, you were not in a place to dodge it gracefully or block easily.”

“But considering my footing, I would’ve been grounded after that dodge,” I said, confused. “Naereni would’ve held the victory if I lost that position. Recovery would’ve been very difficult. And plus, I did block that attack.”

To my credit, Naereni seemed bewildered by this avenue of criticism as well.

“You barely blocked it, Toren.” Karsien said, looking at me. “This was a spar. Naereni shouldn’t have tried to strike you with such force, but neither should you have attempted to take it head-on. The point of these exercises isn’t just to win, it’s to improve.” He looked at me seriously. “And you can’t do that if you get your brains knocked around by a kick.”

“So I should’ve gone to the ground?” I asked. “Forfeited the match?”

Karsien crossed his arms. “Yes. I can tell from your movements: you’re used to fighting for real, without the safety measures a spar allows. Your instincts tell you that the only thing you can do is block. If you go to the ground, you’re dead. So you’re more willing to break a bone than to forfeit a spar. When I say you overcommitted, I meant you were overcommitted to the fight itself.”

I exhaled through my nose, thinking over what Karsien had told me. He did have a point, at least to a degree. All of my fights so far had been in the Clarwood Forest, where a moment of weakness meant death. I couldn’t let my back hit the ground, or the next attack would be at my throat.

I didn’t realize how engrained that had become.

“Point taken,” I said. “You’re right about the last part, though. I’m not used to this.”

“That’s the benefit of sparring,” Naereni replied. “And I’m sorry for almost kicking your head off,” she added sheepishly. “It just looked very very appealing to do so.”

Was that actually an apology? Or was she just saying my face looked very punchable?

“There’s more you need to work on,” Karsien said, causing me to focus on him. “But you’ll need a demonstration to understand.”

The Rat stepped into the ring.