Chapter Seven: Relegated
In short order, the party rode off down the narrow stretch of road. After their first introduction to the Proving Grounds, they now had a healthy respect for the tall grass swaying at the roadside.
Darius admonished them cheerfully as they rode. Tanya, Meri and Markus had taken to swivelling about, trying to look in every direction. Darius insisted that it was best to simply remain alert, relaxed and ready. Becoming overly tense would only slow down reaction speeds.
The horizoner suited his actions to his words, leaning back on Granny’s shell with his foot kicking once again. He looked carefree, but Tom noticed a certain lax readiness in the man. It was in his posture: the liquid, animal ability to spring into action at the smallest moment.
Tom mimicked him, and found the state not too difficult to achieve. It was similar to the alertness he carried in the Deep. In the forest, there would usually be some sound, or smell, or another cue, to warn of an imminent attack. Most often, the lack of sound in the forest was a good indication of a predator nearby.
The Proving Grounds simply cut out the middle man. Tom found that if he maintained the same readiness he did in the Deep, but instead of ratcheting it up, which would only make him more tense, if he strove for a similar state to that he found himself in when in his hardest, most gruelling, life-and-death fights, he would relax somewhat, and his body’s unconscious instincts would take over.
It was not true relaxation, almost closer to a simple acceptance of tension, and a subsequent harnessing of it. Darius seemed to notice the change, and gave him a winning smile.
As it was, they were attacked another two times in the next few hours. The first, Tom had not quite managed to find his ready-state yet, but was still aware enough to leap into action quickly. The rest of the group were not much slower.
Another chitinous tail lashed out of the grass, spearing towards Markus’ lion mount. It did no damage whatsoever, the lush, flowing mane of the animal throwing off the scorpion’s aim, and before it managed to retract its tail, Markus had lashed out, scoring a gouge in it with his sword.
Tom cast Agony on the creature, and Misery a second later. The pink line linking him to the beast showed him exactly where it was.
Darius was in the fray a moment later. The tail flicked back out towards him, and the healer leaned gracefully out of the way, slashing lengthways along it. A claw jabbed forwards, attempting to bisect him, but he moved smoothly to his left, and cut down into the joint where claw met arm.
The creature screeched, unable to retreat due to Granny’s interference, and before it could lash out again with its tail, two arrows, from Rosa and Meri, had sprouted from its eyes. It thrashed as it collapsed to the earth.
During the second attack, Tom had found his readiness. He wasn’t sure exactly what caught his attention, perhaps a section of grass not quite moving the way it should, perhaps a sound or scent, mostly obscured by the wind, but he already had his spear raised and braced as a huge, beige snake struck from hiding.
Before anyone except Darius had so much as turned, the snake was hanging, dead, from the end of Tom’s spear, impaled through its hinged mouth as it attempted to bite him.
As everyone readied their weapons a second too late, Darius was sheathing the sword he had already drawn. He gave Tom a small salute.
They had travelled for another few hours now with no attack. Darius explained that they still needed to be alert, but the chances of ambush would have dropped somewhat after they put a decent distance between them and the last commotion.
“Fucking things are all cold-blooded!” Rosa lamented, as they carried on. “Why can they not be normal creatures, instead of these stupid oversized creepy-crawlies!?”
Rosa’s control skill gave her a limited control over fire, and to a lesser extent, heat, within her aura range. By necessity, all control skills also functioned like limited perception skills. After all, an Idealist could not control something if they could not detect it. Rosa had used it to deadly effect during their time as guerillas to pick out nearby enemies by their body heat.
“They must still be hotter than the environment, even if they aren’t hot-blooded,” Tom said. “Or if they’re not, they might be a little cooler. I’m not sure. My point is that they can’t match it perfectly. Think of it as training. I’ve never met someone with as much finesse as you, surely you can do it.”
Rosa gave him a side eye, well aware that he was mollifying her with compliments and not totally able to resist it.
“I’m going to talk to Darius,” Tom said. Rosa didn’t reply, simply tossing her head imperiously, then letting her eyes go a little unfocused. Tom knew she would be scanning the nearby environment with her control skill, looking for anomalies.
Tom nudged Sesame forwards, to the front of the group, where Darius was surfing atop his tortoise. He nodded at Tom as he pulled alongside. Sesame chuffed at Granny, who let out an odd, low growling noise in return. The two familiars continued happily chatting away.
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“Do you think they know what they are saying to each other?” Darius asked him.
Tom gave him an odd look. It was not the sort of question he would have expected from him. He thought Bloody Monks disdained familiars.
“They seem to, though I’m not sure how,” Tom said. “I guess if The World provides the minds for them, it facilitates communication between them. It allows for wisps to translate all manner of languages for Idealists, after all.”
Darius mulled that over for some time. “The Monastery, they teach that familiars are a gift from Goddess, so that we might know our enemies better. No one likes them though, because they are too much like mana-beasts. I am not sure. I am liking Granny quite a lot.”
“Familiars are the best part of being an Idealist,” Tom said. It was something he felt passionately about, and not just because he was on the cusp of being a full summoner build. “Companionship, utility, combat strength. You couldn’t ask for more.”
“Don’t let any Monks hear you say that. I am strange, so I don’t mind-” He gave Tom a self-deprecating, but still handsome, grin. “-but the others, the Monastery, they teach us to look at them as just tools. They are expendable to them, yes?”
Tom shook his head. He couldn’t agree with that. Though he knew many Idealists, even in Wayrest, believed The World would put the same intelligence back in a familiar if it had to be resummoned, he had no desire to test it himself. He would never willingly use any of his familiars purely as fodder.
“Darius,” Tom began. The handsome healer caught his tone, and turned a serious gaze on him, his black eyebrows slightly pinched. “I want to try and help.”
Darius opened his mouth to say something, but Tom forestalled him with a raised hand. “Please, let me speak. I want to help you with the Monastery. You say they let some healers be battle-healers, to accompany squads, but there is some threshold that if you pass, you are a full …infirmerer?” Darius nodded.
“You saw the orcs, in the Deep,” Tom explained. “At Wayrest, there were over a hundred thousand of them. They were led by chieftains, and had many orc Idealists. They in turn were led by the Smith.”
They had explained this to Darius in full, after the fight with the orcs, but Tom wanted to get his thoughts in order. Darius nodded along patiently.
“If there are orcs in the Proving Grounds, it seems likely that one of the Smith’s brethren is leading them. How well equipped are the Monastery and Horizon for dealing with such a threat?”
Darius wore a frown, now. “Well equipped, is what I am thinking. We monks are not soldiers, but there are many of us, perhaps more than there are these Guards in Wayrest, and that is not with the Horizon military too, though they are not many. They are not needing many, when the Monastery of the Bloody Dawn is so near.
“We have the terrain also. The mountain paths to Horizon are narrow, and we have many defences. Not that it will matter. We will take the fight to them, like the Monastery is known for. We do not cower and wait for threats.”
Tom bristled a little, but understood that Darius was not making a jab at Wayrest’s recent handling of the orcs. It was simply that Darius was perhaps a little inexperienced, or less worldly, and obviously extremely proud of his Monastic training.
“That’s what I thought, to be honest,” Tom agreed.
Darius gave him a curious look. “I had thought you would say we should fortify, and fight them on good ground. That is not our way.”
“I perhaps know Horizoners a little better than most,” Tom grinned, giving a slight nod towards Rosa.
“True,” Darius said. “Though Rosa, she is perhaps not a good representation of Horizon, yes? Not all are so mild, even if she does have a sailor’s tongue.”
Tom had to take a moment to collect himself. Rosa was mild? She was easily one of the most fiery people he had ever met. He gulped, as another realisation hit him: if everything went to plan, he would be meeting her family, including her parents and three sisters.
“I am exaggerating, of course,” Darius ribbed him, with a cheeky grin. “Though, perhaps only a little…” he continued, more seriously. Tom could not tell whether he was joking or not. What have I gotten myself into…?
Darius broke him from his reverie. “What was this point you were making, friend Tom? I have distracted you.”
Tom realigned his thoughts. Best to cross that bridge when he came to it.
“I was thinking, Horizon, the Monastery, they still have not faced a threat this large, haven’t they? Not since the Great Purge?”
Darius shook his head “no”, cocking an eyebrow at him.
“Well, won’t they need more battle-healers, then?” Tom asked. “The amount they have might be enough for your regular pilgrimages, and provings, but for a full scale war? Won’t they need to mobilise the infirmerers? Sending monks all the way back to the Monastery for healing won’t be feasible.”
Darius’ mouth opened, then shut again. His face creased into a frown once more. He thought for a while. Then his face broke into a sunny smile.
“You are right, I think!” he laughed. “This is an opportunity! It is always case-by-case, who is a battle-healer, and who is full-time, but they must relax conditions with a full war. By Goddess, you are right!”
He clapped Tom on the shoulder, and Sesame gave a happy little roar. Granny, picking up on her summoner’s enthusiasm, did a slow, slightly whirling, 360 degree turn while surfing along the road beside them.
“There is more though,” Tom said, seriously, grabbing Darius’ attention back. Now it was time to drop the hook. “Field healers are a well established concept in armies. If you don’t want to go to war, only to find yourself stuck at the backlines, healing Monks of the wounds they have earned in glorious battle, then you will need to prove to them you can be a proper battle-healer. They will not allow you to be a regular monk, and waste your abilities, from the sounds of it. You will need to learn to properly adapt to your role, to learn to become a healer using proper small unit tactics, or you will be relegated during the biggest war Horizon will ever see.”
For the first time since Tom had met him, Darius looked afraid. His eyes widened as he digested Tom’s explanation.
Thank fuck, Tom thought. I think I’ve gotten through to him.