Chapter Sixty-One: Plans

“Go on, take it,” Scriber said with a small smile. “It’s no good to me.”

Tom stared at the tiny essence. The very last one he needed for his ritual familiar from Silence. He drew his wisp over with a thought, and checked the skill once more.

Skill Three (Complete): Quiet Under Moonlight (Ritual (Familiar)).

Mana cost: Extreme.

Cooldown: Extreme.

Requirements: Sixty life essence, ten hunger essence, ten blood essence, two sound essence, two silence essence, two dark essence, and two wild essence.

When summoned: Familiar can make moderate damage physical attacks. Familiar has an attack that deals low magic damage up to short range, and trivial damage up to moderate range. Familiar has a channelled ability which causes trivial magic damage while channelled.

When subsumed: The caster’s movements are completely silent. Caster can see in the dark. Extreme buff to caster’s sense of hearing. Moderate buff to caster’s coordination.

He reached out and touched the essence. It disappeared, and his fingers caused a distortion in the air as if his finger were a stone and the air a still pond it had been dropped into.

His tattoos felt as though they tightened on his skin briefly. They covered both his hands in intricate, flowing lines, extending all the way to each elbow. At certain points the lines stopped, recurving at a sharp angle. Other lines were broken by small dots or dashes.

The tattoos seemed like a halfway point between Sesame’s and Sere’s. They were not as thick, as sturdy looking as Sesame’s, nor did they evoke the same sense of brutality. They were not as fine or as dainty as Sere’s, and were certainly more definitive. Sere’s tattoo had an almost ephemeral quality to it.

Quiet under Moonlight was elegant, and bold without being brash. Tom had been reminded of the script that the traders from the Rust Sands used when he’d first manifested the skill. The only difference was that the tattoo was clearly meaningless, purely artistic in a way that script could never achieve whilst still having to convey concepts.

He would never tell Sesame or Sere, but just as far as the tattoos went, he thought it was his favourite. He had been eagerly awaiting finding the last silence essence for a long time.

“Come on man, don’t leave us hanging!” Cub said. The big man was perched on the very edge of the charred timber beam they’d sat on, wearing an eager expression. Scriber just raised one eyebrow and gave him a mild smile.

Tom briefly checked his mana reserves, noted they were full, and pulled mana through the skill structure for Quiet under Moonlight.

This time, there was absolutely no noise at all. Not even a whisper. But he felt something. Two somethings, actually.

Claws prickled his shoulder and chest. Tom found his head bracketed by two large birds.

Thoughts and impressions stuttered and began to flow, the bond with his new familiar rousing to wakefulness. After a moment’s vertigo, Tom began to make sense of them.

Bright! Ouch! Why so bright!? Ouch!

And,

Tired… Too bright. Sleeeepy. Why..?

On each of his shoulders sat an owl, though it was hard to see them properly with them so close. The new bond seemed to quiver slightly, a very peculiar feeling. It felt like there were actually two new bonds, but only one at the same time.

It was nothing like Sesame’s bond, which was one, single, strong link. It was wholly unlike Sere’s bond too, which was one intelligence, but separated into many fine threads.

This bond had two distinct intelligences, but the bond felt braided, intertwined, though each of the owls was sending him thoughts from two different directions. It was bizarre and unsettling in a way he couldn’t explain.

Tom heard a thump and looked up. Scriber had dropped the leather he had been holding, and was staring at him slack-jawed. His eyes were as wide as saucers. Several mice were poking out of various nooks, their little whiskered noses twitching.

“Two?! How’d you manage that?” Cub said excitedly. “I thought you said you only had the one collective ritual.” Scriber blinked, as if slapped.

“Tom, this ritual, it definitely didn’t have a swarm essence requirement, didn’t it?” he asked, his voice fervent.

“Yeah, no swarm needed for this one. The bond feels weird, like it’s braided? What’s going on?”

“You only asked about the one swarm essence, and you couldn’t have found another before that. Too unlikely. You’re sure? No swarm essence for this? And the bond feels weird? Describe it for me,” he said, all in a rush. “Please,” he added belatedly.

“It’s… I’m not sure. With Sere it feels like the same intelligence, but from all different directions, each attached by a fine little thread.” Scriber nodded acknowledgement at him. “This one feels like two threads, each connecting to a separate intelligence, but twined together? But also not, right? ‘Cause they’re going to different places. I don’t know if I’m making any sense.”

“Goddess, it’s true!” Scriber said, almost to himself. “I’d heard stories…”

“What, man?” Cub asked. “What’s all this? I’ve never heard of one ritual giving two familiars, not unless it’s a collective.”

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Scriber looked back to them both, zealous excitement shining in his eyes. “It’s a twinned familiar! Don’t you see?” he said to Cub, laughing.

Cub frowned. “I didn’t think familiars could be twinned.”

“Neither did I! I’d heard tales, but you never know until it’s right in front of you!” he gestured to the owls.

“Can someone explain to me what’s the big deal? I thought twinned rituals were only for weapons,” said Tom.

“That’s what I’m saying, Tom! Rituals can be weapons, tools or familiars. Usually, a standard ritual gives you one weapon, one tool, or one familiar.” he summoned his enchanting scribe, twirling it around his fingers before subbing it again with a tiny pop.

“Then you have collective familiars.” He gestured absently to his mice with one hand, and then to a nearby collapsed shopfront, where a couple of Sere’s bodies were sitting. “One intelligence spread over many bodies. Every single collective familiar always requires a swarm essence - no exceptions.

“Have you ever heard stories of a collective weapon ritual though?” Tom and Cub shook their heads. “For whatever reason, they’re incredibly rare for weapon or tool rituals, but they do happen.

“There used to be a Hunter with one, must’ve been sixteen or seventeen years ago now. Could summon hundreds of needles, control them with Air too. Incredibly dangerous, she was.”

Tom was following now. “You’re saying twinned rituals are the opposite? Much more common in weapon and tool rituals, and exceedingly rare in familiars? Is that right?”

“Exactly!” he shouted. “Exactly. Twinned rituals are seemingly slightly more common for weapons and tools than collectives are for familiars, even so, but yes, that was my theory. The way you describe your bond is exactly how Idealists with a weapon-and-shield ritual, or paired dagger ritual, for example, describe theirs. Incredible.”

Tom mulled it over. It all made sense. It explained why the life essence requirements were higher than Sesame’s ritual; two familiars would require more to power than one.

It was an unexpected boon, but he was certainly not complaining. He gave his new bond a nudge, holding his arms out in front of him. They shuffled down from his shoulders, their claws prickling his skin. He was going to need to invest in thicker leather armour.

Now that they were in front of him, he could get a decent look at the pair. They were both matched in colouration, white as a base to the feathers, with black worked through over top in complex patterns. Their eyes were a striking, luminous yellow, the flat area of feathers around each a dark grey, and bordered in thick black lines. Each of the owls had curious tufts of black feathers on their heads, like little horns. Tom had to admit they looked quite fierce.

One owl was larger than the other, and tweaking at the bond he felt which of the braided strands each led to. The larger of the owls was female, the smaller, male. He knew that was the way with many species.

The big female looked grumpy, the feathers around her eyes lending her an affronted look. The smaller male looked sleepy, his massive eyes half closed and drowsy.

Too bright! Ouch! The female sniped at him.

Mmmmm… too bright… the male echoed.

Tom grinned at them both. They were magnificent. He pulled his other familiars over to meet them. Scriber made way as Sesame ambled over. Sere flitted in from all around.

Eck! So little! How confusing! The female told him, as Sere swooped and circled around her. Her head turned around almost the whole way, fixing one of Sere’s bodies with a glare.

The male flapped briefly over to Sesame and sat on his back. Soft… he sent, and promptly closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Sesame gave him a smile, his tongue lolling out one side of his mouth. New friends! he sent, excitedly.

Sere’s impressions were slightly less coherent. Although Tom was getting better at parsing them, and Sere was steadily growing more intelligent, the sparrows still seemed perpetually berserk with exuberance.

Cool! Big brother! Big sister! Cool! Wow! Cool!

Tom sighed. It was starting to get crowded in his head. He was slightly relieved that his new familiars didn’t seem like the talkative types.

“Goddess, Tom, where’d you find the last silence?”

Tom started slightly. He’d been so engrossed with his familiars he hadn’t noticed Val approaching with the Lord General. He shot to his feet with Cub, both sketching sloppy salutes. Scriber merely gave the General a respectful nod.

“No need for that folks. The Hunter’s aren’t under the Guard’s jurisdiction, technically,” the massive man said. Tom still felt it hard to read him, with his bluff face. The ridiculous amount of metal he was plated in made it just as hard to read his body language.

“I confess, I’m curious too. Are they one ritual?” he asked, nodding at the owls.

Tom gave a brief explanation. Val was riveted to the owls, seemingly trying to suck them inside her through her eyes. The Lord General gave a long, low whistle. It dampened their enthusiasm somewhat when he mentioned the silence essence had likely manifested due to the discrepancy between the usual, bustling village noise, and its current state.

“Thought twinned familiars were an old wive’s tale. I’ll be damned.”

“Just in time too, Tom. We’re heading back out,” Val said.

“I have a plan. Just a rough one, at this stage. The bastard orcs have given me even less time to prepare than I thought. We need information. We need to know where they’re gathering and where they’re going to hit. We need to know how they’re making Idealists, and if there’s any way to stop them.

“They made the difference in these raids they’ve carried out. Our people were woefully unprepared. We cannot have them assault Wayrest directly with so many Idealists. It would be an unmitigated disaster.

“We need two things more than anything else: information and time. If you can give us any of either of them, Wayrest will be eternally grateful. I will personally ensure that the Council doesn't just pay lip service to that.

“Scout the orcs as best you can. Disrupt them at any opportunity you get. Pass the word along to other Hunters. Any that are still loyal, that is.

“I can’t stay, unfortunately. Five villages were attacked, in total. I have places to be. I still need to convince the Council there’s an actual threat from a Hunter rebellion, and strengthen our defences against the orcs at the same time!” For a moment, the Lord General’s bluff facade cracked, just slightly. He suddenly looked much older, much more worn than he had before.

“I can’t say what the future holds. We will have the Watch keep an eye out for you, for any information you might bring back for us. Goddess be with you all,” he said, gazing at them intensely, before marching back to the portal. His personal guard unit flowed in from around the square, following.

Tom felt stony determination rise in him. The orcs had taken his mother and Rosa, and so many other captives. He could think of one way to disrupt the orcs: freeing the captives. With Scriber to help, and the orcs on the move, it might even be possible.

He glanced around at his fellow Hunters, and saw the same conclusion in each of their eyes. They were with him. They were united.

Tom hefted his new spear. His familiars gathered around him.

It was time for some payback.