All this female drama had nearly made Frank forget about the Pale Gate Greeting ritual. While progress accumulated naturally, most in the Empire had to wait for the final day of the Falling month to check it. That was when the Pale Gate was closest and the Lifecord of each would open on its own with updates for everyone.

But nobility wasn’t content to wait on a Celestial phenomenon to check on how the training was going, every other month. For those who’d been taught the tricks and practiced it, they could call up their whole Lifecord, not just Health, with a bit of focus. Frank had never struggled with it, but he knew some Heroes who had. Progress updated, or was tracked, he wasn’t sure which, every month.

The ritual helped with it, just a little. He’d never worked out the actual formula, if any, that progress followed. All he’d been told by his trainers was that the amount of effort he put into something mattered, but that there was a limit to it. How far and how fast he could push himself on his own. The Pale Gate Greeting let him add another point of progress to it.

Of course, the people had to wonder what he was doing out in the snow. The winds had calmed, but it was still snowing heavily. Much of the entrance was snowed in, but the top was swept clear. So while he had to climb up a mound of loose snow, he managed to get out. The ritual had to be done under the open sky. He expected to have to fight back at least a few Shades, waiting to ambush anyone leaving. But the cliff face was empty, abandoned. They were either still hiding, or had left once their targets were behind the rune line.

Looking up, he couldn’t even see the Pale Gate from the clouds. It was the moon of this world, or something like it, and it rose and fell with the months. Smallest at the end of Rising, and largest at the end of Falling. Beyond the Pale Gate were the Heavens, stories said. Frank didn’t remember much of the trip, before waking up on the summoning chamber floor, naked.

Glimpses, maybe, sometimes in his dreams. One when he’d used the ritual last time.

Frank carved the appropriate symbols in the snow, wide and big enough that the falling flakes would immediately smooth them over. Copying them over from his notebook. He would have preferred solitude for this, but all of the pilgrims had come out to watch, as had Deadbeat. And they would help stop a Shade ambush.

It would be the first time he was doing it on his own, and he really hoped he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself, or somehow anger the Gods.

***

Vraga Deadbeat watched her target putter about in the snow. The other pilgrims might be oblivious, but she’d been around the Confederation. Among those hunting for progress, this ritual and the monks teaching it were infamous. A way to gain extra points of progress was worth more than gold in the pocket. But only the monks could do it, them and their new recruits. She’d considered becoming one. Once.

Tried the ritual herself.

Not enough faith, “You lack Will child.” they’d told her.

She was not weak. A three in Will was better than most, by her estimate. Not that she could know for sure, it wasn’t spoken of.

But it made sense.

Twos and threes for the Confederation, with fours as veterans and rising talents and fives as champions and town nobility. Why should mind be any different than flesh?

She watched the strange burned man check, and recheck the runes, before standing in the middle. Crisk the Lazy laughed at him, while speaking to the yellow robe. But while the useless lump laughed, the robe was watching sharply.

Deadbeat didn’t have much hope for it.

As expected, he went through a little silly dance, moving around the circle, that ended with him settling back into his feet and clapping his hands before himself, his eyes closed at the end. Nothing happened.

He did it again.

And again.

And again and again.

It was embarrassing. When the monks did it-

A pale drop of silver light fell from the sky. At just the perfect moment that it was in the space between his palms as he came to rest and clapped. A ball of silver wind erupted from his hands, swallowing him whole, enfolding the circle in the blink of an eye. It was hollow, see through. In it, every snowflake, the wave of his robes and hair in the soft winds was frozen in one moment.

All shining with Heavenly light.

It erupted, bursting over them all. The wave moved not one flake of snow, but Deadbeat felt it wash over her and force her to brace herself, or be pushed back. She shielded her eyes, to let it pass.

In a moment, it was done. She saw him standing in the middle, no sign that anything had happened around him. Nothing except the looks of the other pilgrims. Some of whom were starting to look interested. That wouldn’t do.

***

Frank checked his Lifecord. He’d forgotten to do it yesterday, so it all came in at the same time. He didn’t know which point was from the ritual, and what was from last month. But he’d felt the moment of utter peace, the choir of the Worldvoice raised in wordless song. So it should have worked.

Aspects (Limit)

Physical (18)

Mental (18)

Mystical

Agility: 4-2

Body: 3-1

Reaction: 4-1

Strength: 3-1

Instinct: 3 (4/40)

Logic: 5-1

Presence: 4-1

Will: 5

Destiny: 10 (10)

Fortune: 1 (10)

Magic: 0+1 (8)

Soul: (4) 2

Gift of Life

Health = 42

Recovery – 3/day

Gift of Heart

Mana = 8

Recovery – 15/day

Gift of Self

Guiding Light

Warm Smoke

Skills (+Applied,-Inactive, Unable,)

Traits, +Skills

Agility = 2

-Basketball 2

+Smooth 2

-Reflex 2

-Deflect 3

-Riding 1

+Carving 2 (6+2/30)

Instinct = 3

-Empathy 1 (0/20)

-Reflexes 2

+Bargaining 1 (7+2/20)

-Survival 1 (4/20)

+Channel 1 (12+6/20)

+Frostfire 1 (2d)

Destiny = 10

Summoned Hero (Divine Blessing) (138/352 days) – Destiny 4

Scorched (Creational Curse) – Destiny 3

Outsider (Invited Invader) – Destiny 2

Foolish beyond Reason (Achievement) (138/352 days) – Destiny 1

Body = 2

-Conditioning 1

+Soldier 1 (B) (0/20)

+Pain Management 1 (10+1)/20)

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Logic = 4

-Ecology 4

+Biology (5) 4

+Science 2 (0/30)

-Mathematics 4

-Tactics 4 (0/50)

-Strategy 2

+Runes (Red Sun) 3

+Runes (Eversnow) 1

Fortune = 1

Reaction = 3

+Awareness 3

+Search 3

+Ignore 2

-Riposte 2

Presence = 3

+Extrovert 2

+Public relations 2

-Command 3

+Pilgrim 1 (+4/20)

Magic = 1

Banked Еmbers I (Scorched)

Strength = 2

+Lift 2

Spearman (Red Sun) 2 (0/30)

+Medium Armour 2 (0/30)

Will = 5

+Temptation 4 (+3/50)

+Resistance 4

+Principle 1

+Persistence 4

Soul = 2

The Wonder of Magic II

+Pale Gate Greeting I

Channel had risen nicely again. Adversity and struggle meant growth. Well, struggling with the fires twice a day certainly counted. Most of his daily mental energy went to his carving session and it showed. That and the pilgrimage itself. Frank wasn’t sure how much longer the Pilgrim Skill would be useful.

He’d probably slot command back in once he was further south. It did feel good to know that he could keep doing this on his own. He’d glimpsed white towers this time, rising among clouds, covered in greenery, like parks floating in the sky.

A body slammed into him. He let the Lifecord fade and refocused on the world, expecting to find Deli congratulating him. Instead, Deadbeat had draped herself over him, and was glaring at the other pilgrims.

“Ok. We’re doing this now.” Frank sighed.

He gently, but firmly, pushed her off him. She didn’t fight it, but gave him an uncertain glance, before the uncertainty was gone so quick he might have imagined it as she stepped away like it was her idea.

Well, less away, and more beside him. Frank saw the looks the rest were giving him. Some were irritated with his addition, but it was the surprise that got to him.

“Did something happen?”

***

Of course there was a light show. Damn near everything that dealt with magic had to God damn glow. He hadn’t seen it, either time. The monks had simply explained and shown him how to do it, over a period of a few days, until he got it. He’d never seen them use it for anything but meditation. They did it on the first of every month for the effect and had told him to do the same. Frank saw no reason not to, since it worked. He’d been a day late here, but that was almost right.

A pilgrim from the Sands wanted to copy the symbols, but Deadbeat interrupted him and asked what he was willing to pay for it. Which set off his own Bartering instincts. The monks taught it freely, but he wasn’t a monk. Frank could always use more funds for the start of his new, new life.

***

After a quick round of Bartering, they were coming back inside, when Frank noticed the line of runes again. This time, he could do more than read every third one. While a lot of them still looked unfamiliar to him, focusing on one, he could slowly puzzle through what it did.

That one was bone.

This was dead. Over there was wind.

“Frank?” Someone asked.

“Sorry, go on ahead. I need to look at this.” What was it…

…

Runes. Eversnow runes. It had to be. It was full last time. It must have rolled over and he just missed it due to the interruption. Placing his glowing stone on the somewhat flat surface of a broken stalagmite (or was it stalactite? He never knew them apart and apparently that carried over) he started copying down the runes, one by one, as they were written.

He heard shuffling nearby as he worked. “Why not?”

Mauricius’s voice: “Leave him be. Once he’s like this, you won’t be moving him without a club. Mageling stuff.”

There was a scoff from the other guard, but no one disturbed him. Frank would have to remember to thank him. Now what was…

***

Someone pulled on his sleeve. He’d copied all the runes a while ago, but puzzling through them was harder. It wasn’t updated, modern Eversnow, but some older dialect. It was a song, or a hymn. Or something like it, and full of metaphors, or idioms. Hard to parse.

Someone pulled on his sleeve again.

Now if only he could figure out the leading lines. Snow, ice and death were popular themes in their songs, and present here, but usually they spoke of overcoming adversity and survival in the face of death defying odds. The tone, or flow here was subtly different. He couldn’t be sure, but it was almost as if-

Frozen snow fell down his collar, under his robs, into his back. With an entirely manly yelp, he lost his train of thought.

“What! What?” Frank looked around already grabbing his staff.

Cherna was there, scowling at him. “There’s a problem with the master.”

“What? What problem?” He asked, trying to understand why she was bothering him.

She stabbed her fingers into his chest. “That’s what I need you to figure out. The merchants are all fretting over him like a bunch of puppies with not enough teats to suckle.”

Frank blinked.

“Go find out what’s wrong.” When he didn’t move immediately, she wasn’t above grabbing more snow and pelting him with it.

He went. That wasn’t how polite people talked to others, but almost no one up here was polite. She’d probably eat the slap he wanted to give her, if only he’d “hurry up and find out what the trouble was.”

Even his own manners were failing from keeping such company.

There was no point arguing with them when they got like that. Grimly determined, on things big and small. They’d do whatever it was, and take the consequences as they came face on.

There was no point even retaliating, not when she was like that. Besides, if something was wrong, he wanted to know about it. The runes weren’t going anywhere.

***

“Good day, good master. Anything we should know about?” Frank asked, having breached the invisible walls of propriety and group to go straight for the caravan master. He was interrupting, but if this was going on long enough for other pilgrims to notice, he probably should have been told by now.

The man grimaced, but didn’t try to lie to him. “Probably, my good pilgrim. We’ve a bit of a problem. If we could step aside?”

Frank looked at the man for several moments. He hadn’t cheated him yet. Weaselled a bit, but not lied or backstabbed outright.

“Sure.”

They walked a bit up the tunnel leading deeper in, Frank lighting the way.

“Damn convenient, that.” The merchant noted, frowning at his light stone.

“And I’ll start selling them the moment I figure out how to make one that doesn’t need me around to work.” Frank replied.

“You do that.” The man responded, falling silent, his look troubled. Once they’d made some distance, they reached a crossroad in the tunnel where it split into two. The master paused and looked in every direction. “We’ve trouble.” He admitted.

“What kind?”

“Well for one, about two hundred marks that way, there’s a Weeping Woman.”

Frank glanced into the dark tunnel warily. Those could be nasty, depending…

“She’s behaving, best we can tell. Shouldn’t bother us, if we don’t bother her, but the way is blocked.” he went on and Frank relaxed, partially.

“No, trouble is, can’t get past her without killing her, and that’s always ugly business.” He muttered softly and Frank nodded.

He’d only been filled in partially, but that was the kind of curse that could and often did end on its own. It empowered the body at the cost of the mind. If the victim had been right to seek the aid of the Gods in their call for vengeance, it wore off, over time. Otherwise, the Weeping Women and Lamenting Men were cursed for life and sometimes beyond it.

Breaking Oaths given to the Gods could get nasty.

“That cuts of half the pantries in this shelter, and someone already harvested the other half.”

Frank wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard that right. But it didn’t seem good.

“When you say harvested?”

“Took four fifths, and seeded a new batch, nothing faithless.” The merchant reassured. “Left a note too.” He said, waving at the empty wall. ”But it’s no use to us. Too many mouths.”

He shrugged.

“We need to move. We’ve rations for two quarters still without dipping into the emergency fifth, but even then, that’s not wintering food.”

He could see that.

“But what if the storm doesn’t end by then?”

The caravan master shrugged again. “We risk it.” He did not seem concerned.

“You aren’t worried?” Frank asked, trying to understand him.

“Not much. It’s still early. Even a big storm should have breaks we could use to make some distance. Not to the next shelter, but if the message is true…”

“What?”

“There’s Reclaimers in the valley. They’re trying to clear out the Blighttown again. Which is passing odd, because I didn’t hear anything about it in the mail.”

“Blighttown?” Frank asked. It sounded familiar.

The master merchant waved it off, as if it was unimportant. “Region had a bit of a tyrant problem a century or two ago. Warlock got called up to deal with him. Ever since, the whole valley is marked for demon attacks, and the ruins of the town have never been properly reclaimed and rebuilt.”

“That sounds like the kind of thing we should have been told before entering the valley.” Frank said pointedly.

“No reason to. I promised protection, and I’ll give it. If not for the storm, we wouldn’t go near the place, and the valley walls are safe enough with our guards. If a company big enough to clear half the pantry is down there, we’ll be safe.”

“In a town that hasn’t been cleared of demons in over a century?” Frank asked, hardly believing what he was hearing.

“Well, yes. It’s not like they ruled the place.” The merchant responded to his disbelief with some of his own. “That would call down an army.”

“It’s just damn hard to catch and dispatch all of them. Once enough get together in one place, more start showing up on their own. Reclaimers tried a couple of times, but they’ve never been able to clear them out for long enough for the door to shut. So long as it’s open and they’re around, the poison of that place makes em leave sooner or later, every time. The three Landkarls that border the cursed place organise a culling every decade. The problem doesn’t grow, but it doesn’t go away either.” he told Frank casually.

“Alright, so not quite as bad as it could be. And if there’s no food…”

“I understand.”

He understood the merchant had made a mistake, but he wasn’t exactly denying it either. If the pantries were full, they should have been fine, from what Frank got. If the mail didn’t warn him about it, it was an honest one, mistake. It’s not like Frank had spotted any demons, or heard about an attack on another part of the caravan by them.

Part of him was fascinated by the idea of it. Of Angels and Demons being real, and dead souls as spirits. There was a reflection of nature to it all, a biosphere of souls with its own environments and cycles that was woven through the others at an ephemeral and metaphysical level, that made the scientist in him sit up in notice.

The rest of him knew that the best direction to go when it came to Angels and Demons, was away. That was his common sense talking. But if they had to go anyway…

Frank went back to inform the other pilgrims.

He got so wrapped up in theorising about the possible flows of souls in cycles and environments between the mortal world, the various Heavens and different Hells, that he forgot all about the notes or the line of runes at the entrance until the next day. When he realised that while the runes weren’t going anywhere, he was.

He needed to sit down and spend at least a day puzzling them out, but he felt eyes on him in the cavern.

One pair came from Deli, who he’d put off several times already. The other was Deadbeat’s, and she moved up her game. She must have gotten one of his stones from someone, because it was still cold in here. Far too cold for her to be walking around in her miniskirt showing of her bare legs down to the boots, doing chores that just happened to give him a hell of a show.

She had several scars on her calves and thighs she was showing off to him, some recent. trying to entice him. The tantalising edge of the skirt drew his eyes more.

She must have noticed, because not long after she started bending over and leaning on barrels to chat up with folks, always with her back to him. He couldn’t deny it, he was tempted. If he had a condom on him, or some of this world’s tinctures or tea, he’d probably be over there, indulging already.

His eyes swept the cavern, looking over possibilities.

“No, no, no, hell no, nope, no, her.”

The caravan master’s wife sold tinctures and concoctions. If anyone had what he needed, or knew a local replacement, it would be her.

He was not going to let Deadbeat tease him like that without responding. But before he took the first step in that dance, he needed protection or insurance and to be upfront about it.

If that was a deal breaker, so be it.