Hermera
The 18th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
The Ionian Sea was beyond anything Arche could have imagined. A flat, gently rolling expanse that stretched to the horizon and beyond, promising sights and secrets. Ships rose from the waters, long, tall, and proud. Sails of every kind and color proclaimed their captains, their companies, and their kingdoms.
Even hours after they had left the docks, Arche’s thoughts were filled with the wonders of the sea. He hoped to cross it some day and find what sights lay on the other side of those waves – or beneath them.
When Tess brought him back to the Styx and Stones, long after dark, Efterpi still hadn’t arrived. She’d been missing for days. No news had surfaced about the body found near the Shattered Pint, not that he’d necessarily been looking. He had to trust that the strange woman could take care of herself. That, or he was certain the Hekatonkheires would hold it over him if she were captured. Without a way to find her or the first idea of where to look, she was on her own.
Arche had passed out on a bed in Basil and Helwan’s room. When he woke, it was still dark outside and a smiling Helwan told him he’d slept the entire day away. At first, Arche chuckled the joke off – but it hadn’t been a joke. An entire day wasted, spent asleep. Helwan took it upon himself to cheer Arche up with a drink as they found themselves in the taproom in the wee hours of the morning.
Basil had joined them for the first round but gone to bed early; the stress of the last few days was getting to the young Warrior. Arche, on the other hand, had wasted enough time unconscious and had no desire to spend more of it asleep. Much of the evening crowd had returned to their homes, cognizant of work the following day, but no such restraint was held against Arche and Helwan. So it was that long after the responsible citizen had donned a cloak against the night’s chill, the two of them made good use of the taproom’s ‘open ‘til dawn’ policy.
Helwan raised his ale.
“I never did thank you properly for standing up to those thugs for me.”
“I’d do it again,” Arche said, knocking his mug against Helwan’s. “Never did realize how much people seem to have against satyrs. Is it really so bad?”
“Not generally, no. Mine are typically a forest people. You won’t see many in the city, but I had interests besides chasing dryads.”
“Dryads?”
“Tree nymphs. Lovely things. Not particularly fond of satyrs, sadly.” Helwan scratched a horse-like ear. “Anyway. Many only know of us from old stories that don’t exactly paint us in the best light. You may recall our first meeting.”
“That’s right. Lyssa called you ‘perverts of the forest’ or something.”
“Largely propaganda, I would like to point out.”
“Oh?”
“We are no more prone to dark acts than humans, we just spend more of our time in pursuit of the beautiful. Because we are not beautiful, others don’t quite understand when a person falls for us. To them, we must have done something untoward.”
Arche frowned.
“That’s awful.”
“It is the way of things. Mine are not a sociable people outside our own kind. We are killed by most societies on sight. You saw the reception I received in Dawnwood. I must be the first satyr in a thousand years to have entered an elven city and returned alive and well. If I could tell my pater, he wouldn’t believe it for a moment.”
“Your pater?”
Helwan took a long drink, his eyes lost in memory.
“Old baba passed away about six years back. He moved with me to the city after mater died. Never was the same after she did, but he was kind enough to come live with me after I graduated from the Lyceum. I still remember the day I told him I was hired at Bits and Baubles. Oh, he was so proud. He wouldn’t stop telling people. Bragging to pure strangers out on the street.”
Arche smiled at the thought, but Helwan wasn’t finished.
“We were out celebrating after my first pay and we attracted the wrong sort of attention. They attacked us outside the restaurant. Had a knife to my throat before I knew what was going on. Said they’d heard our bleating and decided we had enough to share. I was just going to hand it over but pater shoved one of them and told me to run.”
Helwan’s voice trembled.
“They…killed him. They killed him and they laughed.”
Arche’s eyes prickled with tears. He didn’t know if he had parents, but the thought of having someone that loved him torn away was an unexpected gut-punch.
“I’m so sorry, Helwan.”
Helwan ran a finger around the wooden rim of his drink then raised it toward the ceiling.
“I think about him a lot. I wonder what he’d think of what I’ve done.”
“I think he would be incredibly proud of you. You’ve done some amazing things.”
Helwan snorted.
“Like what? Run away? Get fired for chasing a half-baked dream of being someone important?”
“All right, hold on.” Arche got the tavernkeeper’s attention and held up two fingers for more drinks. “You are selling yourself way short. You are a graduate of the Lyceum Apokryfos. You worked for a prestigious magical antiquary. You found a dungeon home to a godforged spear, whatever the hell that is. You said yourself that you’re the first satyr to enter and leave an elven city in centuries. You kept your head when Myriatos was attacked and got people to safety. You’re going to run the magic school Lyssa cooks up when we get back. You’ve been an endless supply of joy and optimism, even in the darkest of times, and you’ve been a loyal friend through it all. You’re a fucking hero, dude.”
The satyr’s face went cherry red and his ears flattened against his hair.
“It means a lot to hear you say that, thank you.”
“Your dad obviously loved you a lot. Don’t think for one second that he would be anything other than proud at what you’ve accomplished, man.”
They clashed mugs, banged the table, and downed another round. Then they turned to happier topics.
“How goes the sales?” Arche asked.
“They go well. Tess is remarkably good at bartering. We’ve been able to sell about a quarter of what we have.” Helwan said, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
“Why can’t we sell it all in one place?”
“City policy is to levy hefty taxes on sales of goods over five hundred drachmae.”
“I take it you’ve been negotiating sales for less than that?”
“Indeed, which takes time because we have to find new buyers. If the same buyers buy more than eight hundred drachmae worth in a week…”
“More taxes.”
“Exactly. Ship’s Shape is a trade city for its access to the sea but it takes its dues. Even as things are, I’d wager we’re losing about fifteen percent.”
“Fucking taxes. How long should it take, then?”
Helwan cocked his head, fingers twitching as he counted.
“Two weeks or so. How much was your bill from the Asklepieion?”
“Fourteen hundred drachmae. Give or take.”
Helwan whistled. “They’ve raised prices since I was a student. Still. Should be easily payable. Payment due tennightly, still?”
“Every two weeks. I’m guessing that’s what tennightly means?
“Indeed. Two weeks, ten nights. Glad to see they haven’t changed their billing patterns. Makes me nostalgic, almost.”
“Have we already made enough?”
“Oh, goodness yes. Several times that. We found a half dozen buyers at just below the increased tax price.”
Arche blinked, frowned at his mug, then looked back at Helwan, eyes wide.
“Three thousand? Three thousand drachmae and that’s only a quarter?”
Helwan smiled.
“We’ve also been sourcing supplies for the village. Tess has a list. We should be right on schedule.”
“I’m happy to hear it. The city is amazing but I’ll be glad to be gone.”
Helwan nodded.
“It can be overwhelming. The criminal element doesn’t help either. The guards do what they can but I often wonder if they’re really trying. They’re never around when you need one.”
Arche grunted, flagging down the bartender for another drink.
“Let me ask you something.”
Helwan gestured for him to continue as he nursed another ale.
“When you were at the Lyceum, did you ever meet a man named Hippokrates?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Helwan chuckled.
“What, the founder of the asklepieion? No, I never met a man who’s been dead over six thousand years.”
Arche met Helwan’s eye and raised an eyebrow, his face completely serious. Helwan’s smile turned to suspicion, then disbelief.
“No. No! That’s not possible. He was a human!”
“He certainly wasn’t an elf.”
“But how?”
“Presumably he was a master biomancer. Maybe that had something to do with it?”
“Grandmaster, definitely. I don’t believe it, though. Someone was having a joke at your expense.”
“I don’t think so. He seemed genuine. And ancient. Knew things no one else did.”
“That doesn’t mean he was Hippokrates.”
“He gave me three spellbooks.”
“Fuck off.”
Arche’s eyes grew wide and his expression shifted into one of unadulterated joy. Both he and Helwan erupted into laughter, much to the annoyance of a drunk sleeping on a nearby table. The man grunted and waved them off, then turned his head to the other side and placed an arm over his ear.
“What books did he give you?”
“Flare, Darksight, and Minor Heal.”
“How much did it cost?”
“A promise to stand by my friends and respect healers.”
Helwan laughed again.
“I take it that billing didn’t know, did they?”
“No, why? How much do spellbooks cost?”
“Those three would be worth about five times what they charged you for the procedure. Each.”
Arche grabbed the table to steady himself. The world started sloshing like he was shipbound in a storm.
“Have you used them yet?”
“No, he told me not to until I had fixed my Mana Scarring. He said to do otherwise would be a bad idea.”
“So not even he was able to help you, there?” Helwan frowned. “That’s troubling.”
“He gave me a place to start but it’s super vague. It’ll likely take a while. In the meantime, I’ll just have to rely on the skills I have, because I won’t be able to use my secret weapon.”
“I’m sure it will be enough. You’re a talented fighter.”
“I’m a lucky fighter. I don’t know what I’m doing ninety percent of the time.”
Helwan shrugged and let it go.
“So how are you going to fix your Mana Scarring?”
“I was told that I’m the only person who can fix it. I’ve got to somehow direct healing energy into the scars. I’m really not sure how I’m going to pull that off.”
Helwan frowned into his mug, thinking hard.
“You’ve got the Mana Manipulation skill, maybe there’s a way to do Health Manipulation or Stamina Manipulation. It’s all vital energy, right?”
Arche would have dropped his drink if it hadn’t already been sitting on the bar. He turned toward his friend with wide-eyed amazement.
“You’re brilliant. I don’t know why I didn’t consider that. But I also don’t really know how to start. Any suggestions?”
Helwan shrugged.
“My former employer, Miss Rune, knows a great deal about magic. Maybe she has some insights. We can go tomorrow, if you have no other plans.”
“Sounds great. What do you know about her? I heard some pretty gnarly stories from Tess the other day.”
“She runs a very respectable business that happens to align with a very dangerous trade. Hers is the best when it comes to dealing with magical artifacts, but not everything can be made on site. Some antiquities have to be acquired. I daresay she may have some insights about your spear.”
Arche nodded.
“Sounds great, but what do you know about her?”
Helwan stroked his goatee and thought about the question.
“She’s human, I think. Certainly looks like one, but she’s got a gleam in her eye that says she’s forgotten more than you will ever know. Some folks say she’s a witch, getting strange powers and eternal youth for conducting dark rituals and ill sacrifices below the moons. Ridiculous, of course, but she does have powerful and strange magic, though she doesn’t often use it. She’s also incredibly well connected, not just inside Ship’s Shape, but all over Tartarus. I think her enterprise even extends across the seas to far off places, like the homes of the tengu and the saurians.”
“She sounds like someone who’s constructed rumors around herself to hide the truth.”
“Very probably. I’m not certain what her Profession is, but I do know she’s an Enchantress.”
“Wouldn’t that be her Profession?”
“Her Trade, certainly. I don’t think it’s her Profession, though.”
“When you say ‘Trade,’ is that like an actual thing, like a Profession? Or do you mean it’s just what she does for a living?”
“Well, a bit of both. Different Trades have different prerequisites, like having a certain number of skills related to the trade or having the trade skill at a certain rank, usually Journeyman. Once you’ve got your Trade, you unlock trade quests, which allows you to earn Trade Points, which you can use for all sorts of things to improve your craft.”
“Journeyman is skill level in the forties, right?”
“Fifties. Forties is Proficient. It’s not easy to get there, but most can accomplish it within a few years, depending on the trade. Some offer more experience than others, and innovation and tutelage always let people grow faster.”
Arche nodded, remembering how several of his combat skills had started out higher than they would have otherwise due to Lyssa’s instruction. He lifted the mug to his face and finished the last of it.
“Right, I’m going to bed before I trip and knock my lights out again. You got the tab?”
Helwan placed a few coins on the bar and waved him off, gesturing for another round from the bartender. The drunk, who had looked perfectly content to sleep the night away on one of the tables, was roused by a splash of water thrown by the bartender’s assistant. The rough man woke and spluttered, trying to throw a punch that spun him off the table and onto the ground.
“Go on, get out,” the bartender grumbled, coming out from around the bar. “Get back home to that wife of yours. I’m sure she’s waiting to tear you a new ear.”
The drunk grumbled unintelligibly as he picked himself up and stumbled out the door. Arche watched this unfold with the mild expectation of a fight, but it was not to be. The barkeep was a grizzled veteran of his trade and knew how to handle his patrons without it getting physical. The drunk swayed unsteadily on his feet outside the door, still visible through glass panes. Arche turned away to climb the steps but a muffled sound made him turn back. The drunk was gone.
Arche grunted and put it out of his mind, shifting his focus to climbing the stairs without losing his balance.
The going was slow, aided heavily by the banister. Things had fine before he’d stood up. Now, everything swayed and a pleasant numbness quieted his thoughts. He walked until he was in front of a door he recognized, then tried his key on it. The key slid in but wouldn’t turn. Arche frowned and tried again, but it was no good. Arche lifted a fist and knocked once, followed by a soft thump as he placed his forehead against the door to stop the world from spinning. With any luck, Basil would wake and let him in. There was a noise from inside the room, but Arche processed this passively. Thus, when the door opened inward, Arche was caught unprepared and fell forward onto his face.
He grunted and rolled himself over onto his back, trying to force his eyes to focus. When they did, he saw the distinctly unimpressed face of Tess staring down at him, one eyebrow cocked.
“What are you doing in Basil’s room?” he mumbled.
“What are you doing in my room? And what happened to you?”
Arche blinked a few times, then shifted his head to look around. Everything was canted but there was clearly no sign of Basil. In fact, there was no sign of anyone else, as there was only a single bed in the room. Arche frowned, then refocused on Tess, who stared at him expectantly.
“I may have made a mistake.”
Tess sighed, trying and failing to hide a tired smile.
“You’re a mess. Come on.”
He gave her an unsteady smile and she grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet.
“You really need to learn how to handle your alcohol.”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “It has a pretty good track record of leading me to you.”
“That didn’t work out so well the first time.”
“What’s a little attempted murder amongst friends?”
“Can you walk?”
“Well enough, I think. Can you point me in the direction of Basil’s room?”
“Let the boy sleep. At least someone should.”
Tess pointed him toward the bed while she shut and locked the door. Arche sat down on the edge and fumbled with his boots. After twenty seconds of struggling, he remembered he could just unequip them directly to his inventory. Freshly unshod, he laid back, legs dangling off the side of the bed as he stared at the dark, thatched ceiling, feeling the world shift and tilt around him. Tess’s fingers stroked his hair. Her touch was calming, intimate, and he felt strangely exposed.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
The stroking paused, then restarted.
“I’m wondering how best to deal with the Hekatonkheires.”
“Oh.”
The stroking paused again.
“Perhaps it’s best if we went to bed.”
“You can talk about it if you want. I’m not all here, but I’m not all gone.”
Tess sighed and he could imagine the drawn pinch of her face. Her lovely, lovely face. How many drinks had it been?
“It’s fine. Just my lives colliding into one another.”
Arche blinked and tried to organize his thoughts.
“I should have asked you about it before. Are you doing all right?”
“I’m not sure. They want me back, but I don’t want to go back. That’s not how the Fifth Hand works, though. He won’t stop until he finds me.”
“I thought you enjoyed your time with them.”
“It’s…complicated.” Tess screwed up her face. “I did enjoy it, but I didn’t. There’s a fear in me, one I can barely give voice to. It says to return is to die and I don’t understand, but my instinct has gotten me too far to ignore it now. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. I just have to think my way out of this.”
Arche snorted. “It’s all right to not be all right, Theresa.”
Tess brushed a finger against his cheek.
“Theresa caused a lot of trouble for this city and for me. She was a scared, abused girl who grew up too fast.”
“So you’ve abandoned her for Tessalyn?”
“Not really. Tessalyn was a mask I used for running. Tess is closer to who I want to be, I think.”
“I can call you that, then. If you prefer.”
“Theresa sounds good on your lips. You don’t say it like the others did. I appreciate your discretion about it.”
“Of course.”
“I take it you’re not willing to let me meet the Hekatonkheires at the docks?”
Arche sat up and spun around. He immediately regretted it, as the world shifted violently and he almost lost his balance, sitting though he was, but he did his best to find and hold Tess’s eyes.
“I’m not giving you to them. Not ever. No fucking way.”
“I’m the cause of the trouble with them. I can end it.”
“I have my eyes back, now. I’m not letting you go without a fight.”
“And your Mana Scarring?”
“I won’t use Divine Body. We can handle whatever they throw at us.”
“Oh, Arche. You have no idea. Even if we were stronger than their most powerful members, which we’re not, we would never be able to get past them. Poison, magic, traps. They use them all.”
“Then we’ll outsmart them. How long until next Nyxpera?”
“It’s past midnight, so…tomorrow.”
“Shit. That’s not a lot of time.”
“So you see the problem.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“Optimism is not a plan.”
Arche patted around the bed until he found her hand.
“I mean it. I’m not handing you over. We’ll find a way.”
Tess caressed his cheek.
“I know you mean it.”
Arche opened his mouth to argue more, but Tess’s lips pressed against his and words became a difficult concept. Everything slipped away, replaced by the taste of strawberries and mint.