The moment I put some of the Ice Light steaks on the fire, I was interrogating our large friend:

“What did you do just now? Did you just set the wood on fire with your mind? Is that a Technique?”

He held up his hand and rumbled out an answer,

“My people have the natural ability to control and emit fire. Different members have different types of talent relating to this basic ability, but it is a common trait we all share.”

To demonstrate, little pinpricks of fire appeared and disappeared on the tips of his fingers. It reminded me uncomfortably of the Narbacor, but this fire was thankfully colored a natural red and orange. He continued:

“By different types of talent, I mean that some of us are better at getting fire to do certain things and in certain ways. Some have outstanding temperature control, allowing them to adjust the heat in subtle ways and in the right circumstances. These are the craftsmen of our village, and our blacksmiths are world renown for their abilities. Others are more capable of emitting flame in a swift, spontaneous, and explosive fashion. Their control is usually less precise, but their speed and power make them highly capable warriors. There are more nuances, of course, but these are the two major castes of our society, warrior, and craftsman.”

“I don’t need two guesses to figure out which one you are.” Ann chimed in, squinting at him suspiciously in the firelight.

A ghost of a smile cracked his stony face, and he tapped the hilt of his sword as he answered:

“This is not exactly a smith’s hammer, as you can see. I am recognized as a powerful warrior in my village, despite my advancing age.”

That comment dredged up a memory of mine about an old saying:

“Beware of an old man in a young man’s occupation.”

Moving on, I pressed further about the nature of his homeland, to which he responded:

“My people live hidden within the mountains. Our city is large and powerful, but we are not as numerous as many of the other Wise races on the planet, and certainly nowhere near as common as you Men. Like most of the Wise races, though unlike you Men, our natural talents and abilities come from our bloodlines, rather than a Giftseed. I suppose we also tend to refer to our abilities as gifts as well, however. Our bloodline talents and naturally powerful bodies make us stronger than the average son of Man, though you tend to have more potential to grow and greater flexibility with your powers.”

That was…a lot to take in. I glanced at Victor who seemed just as surprised and interested as the rest of us. We hadn’t dealt with any other people groups that you could call ‘Wise’ before now. Besides maybe the Neidyr, but it’s hard to learn from people trying to roast you alive. Based on his expression, none of his books seemed to have commented on the subject either.

We were both burning with even more questions after that, but it was definitely Goran’s turn to query us right back instead.

He asked us about the obvious: Who are we? Where did we come from? And how did we get here?

That, of course, was a very long story. Goran listened intently to our tale of difficulties, frowning when he heard about the destruction of our home and the description of the Narbacor. We abbreviated things to the best of our abilities since we wanted to question him further tonight. The Ice Light steaks finished cooking and we dug in. Goran refused our food, choosing instead to munch on some strange jerky that he had in a hidden pouch at his waist. The meat was mostly bland and flavorless, though it left a tingling sensation on my tastebuds that spread down my digestive track and throughout my body as I ate. It seemed basically harmless, though.

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He interrupted our story when we were talking to ask about the meat that we were eating. We skipped ahead to start describing the Ice Light to him, but we hadn’t said much about it before his eyes grew wide and he leapt to his feet and shouted:

“Stop eating, now!”

We froze. Most of us looked surprised or angry at the strange outburst, but I saw that Victor had also picked up on what was happening. I had my own guess, and I snatched the meat out of Hope’s hand, just as Victor stopped Lynn from feeding it to Eithan.

Poison

How could we have been so stupid? I had been wary of the Neidyr meat since they were so dangerous, but the Ice Light had seemed so harmless. So small. But of course, that wouldn’t have prevented them from being poisonous. I felt the tingling sensation persist in my body, growing more and more pervasive, and I looked frantically around at the others to see who had eaten it.

Then, the sensation began to stop. It slowly diminished, starting from my extremities and receding towards my core. Where it ended. I looked around and saw that some of the others looked uncomfortable, but still unharmed. I looked at Goran, who had been staring at us with a sad look in his eyes. That look changed from sadness to confusion slowly, and he sat back down. He caught my eye, and I raised an eyebrow, prompting his next words:

“To my people, the flesh of the Fu’roak is a deadly poison. You seem to be handling it much better than us. Perhaps Men are immune?”

I thought about the sensation and looked at everyone else before answering:

“Not totally immune, it would seem. But still largely so, yes.”

It was an important lesson. We should be suspicious of any unknowns. At the minimum, we should ask about the creature first, even if it doesn’t appear venomous, and try small bites if we are desperate for food and don’t have the luxury of asking the more experienced.

“How did you not know we would be immune to this stuff?”

“Would you feed poisonous meat to a friendly guest or trader?”

Fair enough.

We finished cooking the Ice Light meat but didn’t eat any more of it. It could be helpful for improving our poison resistance, if only slightly, and food was food. We would just need to keep our packs away from any Maegar children, to be sure. We got confirmation from Goran that Neidyr meat of the northern variant (Lorai meat) would not be poisonous to either Maegar or Men before starting to cook and eat that as well.

The night was getting late, but we ended up finishing our story to Goran’s satisfaction in time for us to ask more questions. I had Victor take the lead this time:

“I want to hear about these free northern kingdoms. Why do you call them “free”? What type of place are they?”

“The northern kingdoms are ‘free’ because they are largely free of the influence of the Great Powers. Though that may change if the Golden Hordemaster gets his way. The Lesser Powers who live up there have been doing their best to make sure that doesn’t happen, but who knows who long that will last. I’m not that familiar with all the politics involved and couldn’t tell you how true that moniker actually is. But they certainly call themselves free, and they definitely act as a refuge for the fellows who run afoul of our would-be gods.”

Sensing our incoming questions, he elaborated,

“The Greater Power rule most of the world. I don’t know that much about them, other than that they are generally worshipped and revered as gods and goddesses by many of the Wise peoples around the world. Even the people who don’t worship them usually submit to their rule, besides the invisible God cults and several other contrarian groups. But going back to the original questions, the northern kingdoms are generally safe and prosperous. One of the Great Powers is trying to conquer them now, but his ambitions are likely beyond his abilities, since he is the weakest of the seven. I recommend trying your luck there once, spring comes around. If you go east, you will be under that Great Power’s dominion anyways since he has already conquered the steppes.

As for the Lesser Powers, they typically are either wandering mercenaries, subordinates to the Greater Powers, or fighters against their rule. They don’t usually have the same ambitions of divinity or tyranny, but they are typically far from angels. The Lesser Powers of the North are Vladimir Gregarin, the Iron Wall, and Alya Zelensky, the Snow Witch. The rumor about them is that they are basically decent people. They have been defending the northern kingdoms from incursion for years.”

Victor and I were both positively bursting with questions at this point, but he held up his hand as if to forestall all of them:

“We Maegar are a relatively isolated tribe, so we do not know much of the affairs of the outside world. And I am a warrior, not a scholar of international relations, so I am far from the best person to ask about all these complicated things. If you wish, we will allow you limited access to the clan’s library once we get there and many of your questions could be answered by those books or the scholars who frequent the library. It is getting late, and we must rest. Good night.”

With no sign of discomfort whatsoever, he turned over on his back and closed his eyes. We soon heard the low breathing that indicated sleep coming from him. He was clearly used to rough conditions. We looked at one another and shrugged. He was correct. We really did need our rest. We quickly finished our meal and turned it. I took first watch, but the moment I woke Al up for second watch I laid down and passed out.