The next day marked the floating island’s arrival. An ominous omen that became a sort of permanent cloud for Khereshetal, the capital city of the Kheresh Dukedom. It was a known island, one that was named ‘Argos’, with old records saying there were shafts running through the island that one might board and exit the island from. Though it had been missing for several thousand years, and the humans who once piloted it were presumed dead or conquered.
For six months the Argos circled Khereshetal, creeping closer every day. Why it had come, or whom was steering it was impossible to guess, but the island spun as it circled, remaining ‘tidally locked’ to the casual astronomers. One side always facing away from the city. As if it were moving with intentions it meant to conceal; patrolling so close that it became a second night, shadowing parts of the city throughout the day. Weeds sprouted, morning dew collected and lingered, and extant trees -rare as they were– began to green. A strange bounty for the parched city, and one that was welcomed by the leaderless land. For the Duke was away, and his appointed leader, a lumpy magistrate who wore far too much purple, never seemed to leave a meeting happy. Nor did the opposing parties. All these facts became known to Liam through the use of his peeping portals, giving him a sort of silent drone to spy on others' lives.
Several months passed, marking Liam’s first birthday, a day that came and went unannounced. Time in this world felt odd to Liam. It seemed to pass slowly, without anything to do, and no responsibilities, a carefree existence he had not experienced in decades. His life as Baron Green had been short and violent, while the previous fifteen years had been spent in a mad rush to attain that all so important ‘William Wilson M.D.’ title. A quest that had, most likely, been what called Sarah to his side, and why she’d manipulated him, why she did everything to ingratiate him to her.
To bind them together.
At least death had parted them.
I really dodged a bullet. It would’ve been messy if we had kids.
A shadow fell over the window. Near where the serval had left gouges. Liam’s life mana had regrown the wood, filling in the gaps and smoothing the splinters. The shadow darkened the room, and Liam relaxed. It was just the Argos passing overhead, once more circling the city. Its shadow would darken the city for the rest of the day, and be gone by tomorrow morning. Maybe even taking a third day for the endless mass of hewn stone to pass over. Whether it came to destroy Khereshetal, or to shade the desert, no one truly knew, nor could it’s intentions be deciphered. Liam was entirely cut off from others, Mom refused to teach him the local language or allow him to leave their home. Though she knew nothing of Liam’s peeping portals.
Those magical spyglasses taught him the comings and goings of the city, from the local magistrate who ran everything concerning the city, to the number of wives in the Duke’s harem, a whopping sixty nine women including a curiously high number of felinids. Although, the duke never seemed to be home, and most of his army was missing. Caravans of supplies left the Duke’s palace at regular intervals, escorted by armored ducal guards and always returning with fewer protectors, as if the escorts were slain or remained at the destination. While wounded men were unloaded from the wagons. Confirming what Liam had guessed. The duke was at war. Which was how Mom’s escapades had gone undetected for so long. Many houses were empty, and many more protectors were absent. Guardians of the home and hearth were away, leaving their storehouses unguarded to Mom’s infiltrations.
Which was fine by Liam, he was too young for anything other than pooping, crawling, doing baby workouts, and practicing magic. When he was grown there would be time to heal the wounded soldiers, and make amends for stolen food. So he tried growing up, returning to Nyota like a newborn was almost as bad as returning to her and finding she’d taken a lover.
Quetz grew a little more dangerous each meal. His round danger noodle nature became more angular with every basement mouse and house cat conquered, growing the diamond head and thermal pits of a viper. His golden pinstripes grew into spines, differentiating into a hundred rachis, golden yet flexible, a strange development that made Quetz into more of a porcupine than an adder. He shed his skin twice during this period, creating intact tubes of golden quicksilver that Liam attempted to burn with fire magic, but failed at. So they were tucked under the bed, each with a sack of grain to keep them flat.
If anyone ever finds them, they’ll probably turn this house into a shrine. Ha. I wonder if they’ll build a cathedral here like they did in Avignon? Probably. But it might only take a thousand years.
While Quetz was busy gaining feet, Liam doubled in weight, using his now substantial healing magic to alter and augment his body. He was careful to never alter anything too dramatically, there would be no third eyes or gorgon snakelocks for him. But, elongating his bones, widening them slightly so his future height and potential muscle mass increased was done regularly. Most importantly, he accelerated his digestion track, allowing him to switch off human milk. A development that Mom realized was unnatural, but appreciated, as it allowed him to become more civilized and spared Mom from discomfort. While it was natural to be so close to Mom, the dependency seemed to heighten both their anxieties. As if they both knew Liam was too intelligent for a child. His voice developed quickly as well, now allowing the two year old to speak like a normal adult, though he was forced to whisper, only ever communicating with Quetz and Mom, who still refused to offer her name or grant Liam the dignity of his own name.
What her motivation for doing such a maddening thing was, could never be understood by Liam. Not that he particularly cared, since Liam was already perfectly satisfied with the name he knew himself by. But it was the principle of the thing! If he wasn’t a grown adult, this would have been a vicious form of negligence.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Parents should name their children.
No matter how odd.
Besides the lack of a name, everything Mom did was unusual, entirely reclusive, and uniquely cunning. Each day she returned with food, never more than a few days worth, but never empty handed either. And often with scrapes and bruises that Liam dutifully healed. Twice she’d hidden inside storerooms to avoid detection, not coming home until the next night. Liam had –understandably– panicked at her disappearance, and now sent Quetz to tail her every night. Though the familiar was always more focused on Liam, always placing his life over Mom’s. More concerning than her lack of a job, was her penchant for blades, and by the time Liam was two she had a dozen weapons hidden in every corner of the house, often with the edges recently cleaned of blood. Hers or those she had taken the weapon from.
He wanted to tell her to stop, or chill out, but her violence fed them both. A question he was never able to satisfy.
“Mom, you can’t keep killing people.” Said Liam.
“I haven’t killed anyone… Who didn’t deserve it.”
“MOM!”
“Its just a joke kid. You should try chilling out. I only cut them enough so they can’t hold me down.” Said Mom, cleaning a few flecks of dried blood off her newest blade.
In a year or two I’ll seek a patronage from the Duke. Even the idiot magistrate should be able to understand my value. That should be more than enough to take care of us, then Mom can stop.
At least, that’s what Liam always found himself saying, pushing him back into the arena of magic. His adventures into magic expanded, [healing] increased to level 8 while fire came easily, most likely due to his old ally of deadly lightning, and their forever bosom buddy, darkness. Granting him a spear, a sword, and a shield. While also maintaining the elixir of life he called healing. He mastered the basic spells of those four affinities, leaving only the slow climb to max rank level 10 in each. To further his magic he would have to find a patron, or sage, or master to teach him advanced chants. Or he could invent unique magicks, a task that was more easily said than done. Such tutelage wouldn’t affect his levels directly, but would boost how efficient and effective his magic was. At least, it would for all his affinities save lightning.
For he was the most advanced Lightning Lord in the world.
Bar none.
An unsurprising consideration given he’d somehow transcended mortal limits and reached level 20. Double the mortal cap. Liam suspected that was due to Taloc’s mettling, but Quetz was tight lipped on that front. And there was nothing he could do either way. If Taloc granted him some sort of leveling buff, then he would accept it and move on, after all, it was a small boon that Taloc practically owed Liam for slaying his Archnemesis Pandora.
Yet one affinity remained out of reach.
Wind. The affinity of the elves, and one of two core affinities of Baron Green, a power that seemed to evade his every attempt to channel it. Given how closely related to lightning it was, he should have accidentally leveled it up, instead he failed to manifest any sort of spell. Not even a sneeze could be mustered.
“Hey Quetz, teach me how to use the wind affinity.” Said Liam, turning to face the snake as he floated in the air, presumably suspended by the desired ability.
‘Ugh, you wouldn’t understand. I don’t speak elven bullshittery.’ Began Quetz, shaking his head.
“Try me.”
‘Fine, it’s very close to the lightning affinity but instead of the zippy zappy it’s more whooshy. So you focus on the whoosh and then you add more whoosh to get a whooshhy whoosh. Now this is very important! The whooshy must come before the whoosh, don’t mix them up or you’ll be sorry! Oh, you can’t try too hard either, sometimes I think of the whoosh like a squirrel. In order to get it you have to be patient, just lie in wait for a few days and it’ll walk right into your mouth without ever seeing your fangs.’ Said Quetz, entirely serious.
Liam booped the viper’s nose.
“I never knew trolls came in white snake flavor.” Said Liam, walking away from the serpent to find Mom.
‘I tried. Go find the elves then!’ Snapped Quetz.
Hmm… That’s actually decent advice, and it’s not like I can see Nyota like this… Thought Liam, glancing down at his tiny hands. Do I dare seek her out? She’s pregnant… That means she–
Liam shook his head, not daring to comprehend the possibility. He needed more information, something that could only come from other people. Taloc had granted him a vision of Nyota carrying their daughter, thinking about it now would only drive him insane.
Rounding the corner to the bedroom he found Mom sitting on the floor, a whetstone and dagger in her hands. With four daggers freshly sharpened and two to go. The blade between her fingers possessed a wicked curve, causing her to rotate the blade as she moved it across the whetstone. Methodically sharpening the blade.
Sssshhhhhnnnnggg
“Mom, we need to talk.”