Chapter 74

Ethereal Plane Ombra U’ld.

Grafth U’ld

How…entertaining. Little Perage, growing up before my very eyes. And why not? Such an unorthodox and entertaining fellow. But we wouldn’t want him to choke on his own vomit.

I expanded my shadow to slip beneath his body. With manipulation of gravity, I rolled him onto his side. Mythic rank…so many years ago that was. But I didn’t display such weakness, did I? No, no, no, I was always strong. Ah, how entertaining!

But onto other things. Complex people required complex solutions. It was a quaint break from my monotony. Dare I say…entertaining? My own laughter came back at me in slow echoes.

In shadow form, I melted out from the skin of my black light steed and fell like a drop of night sky to the shadows of the forest. Evening shadows let me slide across the land in less than the blink of an eye. Beneath the leaves, some snow, lengths of trees, and as soundless as an owl in flight, I slipped to the horizon as far as shadows let me. When I caught up with daylight, my trek was slower, but shadows always intersected, and I slipped closer to the ground than the dead.

How…entertaining. Hawkin wanted nothing concrete, no item, no thing, no tool. He wanted to be left alone and to brew his silly gold beer. How can potential power mean nothing to people? His ambition was so small, and he was blind toward his prospects. How did you give something that was intangible to someone? How entertaining such a question was to a soul of pure shadow! Gah…even a steed of light was too tangible. Amusing that the human declined such treasures…

At last I arrived and slipped up the northside of the yellow mountain of Petumbra. There were white clouds at the summit. From them stood tall stone sentinels with eyes of flesh that roamed their sockets. They saw me! How…entertaining…. Their eyes passed harmlessly over me; they recognized me. I slipped forward in their swaths of shadows and drifted miles over land until I passed into the village. Along the outskirts where the red grass arched, I stepped into the brewery, which was nothing but a long barn.

“Karaph,” I said.”

“Grafth.”

Karaph sat cross legged on a thick cushion atop a low table. Spine straight, eyes closed, his face bore no wrinkle of thought. And how…entertaining it was that Karaph still kept all his brewing equipment at his rank.

“I need something from you,” I said.

“Just take it.”

“Not so easy. There is a Brewer who crafts ethereal planes.”

“Mr. Ballow, son of Jirish and Lindelle Ballow from Lunstad.”

“I need to help him brew golden chapter beers.”

“I don’t take apprentices, Grafth.”

“He would decline the offer.”

“Ah yes, like the Alik coercion.”

“I just need something to help him brew his beer.”

“He can’t brew them for several reasons,” said Karaph. “Most often there is too much reliance on quest path skills as well as convention. The art of brewing hitherto stumbles into a grave of neglect unless a Brewer revisits their core mastery. How can a warlord exact carnage until they have opened rib cages with their bare hands? Hawkin’s weapons must be cast aside.”

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“Yes, that. Whatever that is. I want to give him that.”

“I could help.”

“You have my thanks,” I said.

“I could help.”

How…entertaining. Could? What was it he wanted? The man who sat and meditated all day was for want of something. Amusing! But worldly possessions did have their own gravity, and they did interrupt mindfulness meditation at times, didn’t they!

“Very well,” I said. “I’ll turn over my current plane, Ombra U’Id, to you.”

Karaph smiled. He took a deep relaxed breath, then opened all his eyes. “I accept the trade; however, I don’t want the plane for myself.”

“For the girlfriend? How…entertaining—what when ‘fool’ and ‘romantic’ are noun synonyms. …You’ll have to disclose which planet-”

“-No, I can take care of that myself. She is safer there among her kind. But I want it gift-wrapped with a little bow. Something pretty. With detailed instructions. I’ve lately considered sending her a gift, a little something, a trinket she can keep on a shelf to explore at her whim. -Oh, and I want those dreamers you’ve gone on about.”

“Dream Cutters,” I said. “I can spare no more than two dozen.”

“You should ask them.”

I skipped over a prone beam of sunlight. “I tell them what to do.”

“They’ll want to say goodbye to their families.”

“Not my problem.”

“I don’t want her around disgruntled architects.”

“Think how entertaining that would be! …Gah! This must be a Brewer thing, this weakness.”

“Different things become important the longer you live.”

“Not-”

“-Not for you, I know,” said Karaph. “I’ve given you my conditions.”

“And they will be executed flawlessly. Our conversations are always so entertaining, don’t you think? I cannot guarantee every Dream Cutter will agree. You may end up with none.”

Karaph nodded. There was suddenly a perceptible difference in the state and stillness of the Brewer’s affairs. A humidity hung in the air. The smell of resin and pine, and malt wafted through the shafts of sunlight. The brewing tuns creaked. The mash paddle was leaned against the wall then instead of beneath the window.

“Here is a beer for Hawkin,” said Karaph.

“This will do the trick?”

“If he can read between the lines.”

“Good, very good. My friend, have you heard about his reputation?”

“I hated reputation; what does it have to do with how good beer can be? Nothing at all. It should be the same as the Alchemists. They don’t have a world reputation! That’s why they do well, their names aren’t plastered for all to see! No one cares who No.1 is, nor who is No.100. They have the peace of that. I worked hard to never see my name on that list ever again. Besides, it lets the younger ones have something to be proud about. Something of a little playpen for them.”

All of Karaph’s eyes closed then. He settled back into his state of meditation and stretched his fingers before setting his hands upon his lap.

“We’re good here,” I said.

“Always, brother in rank.”

“I need a few days to prepare the plane for you. I’ll return shortly.”

Then I was gone, across the summit, passed the stone sentinels, and down the mountain. Pressed into the earth’s own shadows, I slid across the world in the time it took to think half a thought.

It was daybreak and cloudy when I returned to Hawkin’s woods. He, Thrush, and Abigail sat around a firepit with my companions. Hawkin seemed to begrudgingly pass bowls of soup to everyone. All faces were grim and mean. Only Thrush smiled. How…entertaining it was that even I got chills. Yes, it was wise to tread carefully in his company.

The flames made small shadows dance beneath the stones of the firepit. I melted among them so that my form danced there too.

“Everyone seems well entertained,” I said.

“We were just arguing,” said Perage.

“Argue no more. I have something for you, Hawkin.” I pushed Karaph’s bottle of beer up from the shadows beside Perage’s boots. “Let’s toast.”

Perage whipped out short tea glasses and poured the beer for companions and lessers. He passed each glass around, but stopped when Hawkin declined.

“I insist,” I said. “You’re right, Hawkin. We were rude intruding with demands as we did. Let us toast to different opinions. It’s clear that our effort here is fruitless. Let’s go our way and leave you be. Will you toast to that?”

“I can get behind that,” he said.

Thrush splashed the back of his throat with his beer. His eyes throbbed and pulsed before taking on a far away look. Then he rubbed his belly. “Hawkin, you’ll like this. My Composition says it’s safe for humans.”

“Let us toast then,” I said.

Perage poured Thrush another. We raised our glasses.