Callan awoke to the sound of the trapdoor cracking open again. He yawned, surprised to find himself feeling refreshed and alert. Either this mattress was more comfortable than he’d realized, or those extra stat points he’d received yesterday were helping take a bit of the edge off.

As Kivi began the process of bringing down breakfast, he pulled up his stat screen.

Name: Xeph-Zul-Karatl (3rd Sphere)

Avatar: Callan Whitlocke (Trueborn Human)

-STATISTICS-

Brawn: 4

Momentum: 1

Fortitude: 4

Concentration: 1

Influence: 1

Piety: 2

-BOUNTIES-

God Bond: Talc – II

Manifestation: Mountainform

Orison slot 1: Shape Stone (Talc - II)

Orison Slot 2: *Awaiting Selection*

-DOGMA-

Total Followers: 11

Available Faith: 2

Conviction: 0/5

Conviction Rate: 1/week

Temples: 1/1

Domain: 2 yd

APOTHEOSIS: 0/25%

Hmm. Statistics look good. Bounties show an empty slot, guess I’ll need to pick that today. As for the rest...

The first thing he noticed under Dogma was that his Conviction rate had increased. Still only 1 per week, but that was double what it had been before, so he could hardly find it in himself to complain.

The second thing was that he now had a section showing his domain range. It looked as if it might be tied in a 1:1 ratio with Piety, given that it had only stretched one yard before he’d gotten the boost, but he’d have to check back next time he increased the stat to see if it changed further.

Finally, the third thing he noticed was that his total Conviction was empty again. He had a sneaking suspicion that once Xeph caught wind, it was back to eating rocks for him.

Well, if the god hadn’t noticed yet, Callan certainly wasn’t going to bring it to his attention.

Speaking of his head-mate, Xeph gave a loud yawn and shifted in the back of his skull. Callan dismissed the stat screen but wasn’t nearly quick enough. He felt Xeph surge to the front of his mind.

Human! Don’t think that escaped my attention!

“What are you talking about, Xeph?” Callan asked innocently.

You haven’t assigned your remaining faith yet. Or picked a second Orison.

“Oh, right, that.” Callan pulled up his stats again, ignoring the orison issue in favor of the easier decision. “At least I know exactly where those points are going.”

Yes, yes, I’m sure we’re of the same mind on that. Obviously, they’re going into—

“Fortitude.”

—Piety. Wait, what?

Callan frowned. “Hey, I think that’s my line.”

Why would you put them into Fortitude? We need more Piety to increase the range by which our priests can wield bounties. Placing them anywhere else right now would be incredibly short-sighted!

“Yeah, well maybe I’d like not to suffer another attack and collapse in the middle of combat. Did you think of that?”

You’re hardly in THAT great a danger of collapsing. And besides, that is all the more reason to invest in Piety. If our priests handle most of the physical work against the cult, you need not risk over-exerting yourself.

“Something tells me we aren’t going to be that lucky,” Callan said. Xeph started to argue more, but was cut short by the return of Kivi, bearing the last of the items for breakfast. She handed Callan a small chunk of some dark bread, and a bowl filled with—oh, great—more spirebeans.

“Boy, you weren’t kidding when you said this was all you had, were you?” He took the bowl and poked at it half-heartedly with a spoon.

“Let us just be grateful that we have spirebeans at all,” Kivi said, digging a spoon into her own bowl. “My master had a greater stockpile of them than most families in the village, and with him gone I have only had to worry about feeding myself. Even with your contribution, I imagine there are still enough for a month or two. I do try to share them with the other villagers, of course, but with the cult, any acts of charity are deemed... suspicious.”

The thought of eating these beans every day turned Callan’s stomach. Kivi gave him a halfhearted smile. “Do not worry, Callan. Once you have freed the village, all the food the cultists took from us will be returned, and we shall see that you experience a true lud feast, I promise.”

“Sounds good to me.” Callan started to ask about this ‘master’ Kivi mentioned but was interrupted by the sound of footsteps overhead. The lud girl left to investigate and returned a moment later with Tervak in tow.

“I mustn’t dally long, Avatar. Kivi and I will be required to join in the day’s pythian harvest soon. In the meantime, you should continue resting. We cannot move against the cult while you are still hampered by your injuries.”

“How soon do you expect that shall be, Elder?” The eager look on Kivi’s face told Callan that whatever the answer, it wouldn’t be soon enough. He wasn’t wrong.

“Hmm. Perhaps... three weeks, I think.”

“Three weeks?” The lud girl nearly spilled her beans in surprise.

“Unfortunately, yes. I would wait even longer, so as not to risk the avatar’s long-term health, but I dare not. The cultist’s next caravan is due any day now, and we can afford neither the supplies nor the manpower the cult is sure to collect from the village.”

“Is it almost time again already?” Kivi glanced down at her beans. “We have just barely recovered from the last culling. So many, lost to us forever...”

Tervak reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I am certain that he is alright, young Kivi. Master Mirdelre—”

“I’m not worried about him!” Kivi stood, abandoning her bowl. “He and his father are gone! I worry for the rest of us, those who continue to suffer under the cult’s thumb! What of them, elder?”

“They, like you, must be patient. Freedom is coming. We need but time to prepare.”

“Hmmph!” Stomping to the ladder, Kivi scurried up it and disappeared from sight. With a sigh, Tervak turned back to Callan.

“It would be best if you stayed out of sight. The cult occasionally patrols the village during the day, looking for any stragglers, but they are unlikely to actually enter a home to check. Still, if they do, hide yourself as best you can.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Actually, would it be alright if I tried to go above for a bit?” Callan asked. “I promise to keep hidden, but I wouldn’t mind getting a peek at some of these cultists. Information gathering, and all that.”

Tervak considered the idea for a moment, then nodded. “You should be able to climb to the second story of Kivi’s home if you are careful. From there, most of the town is visible. Gather what knowledge you can but do try to keep from being noticed.”

Callan bobbed his head in agreement. “Believe me, I don’t want to end up crucified anymore than you guys do.”

“Crucified?” Tervak tilted his head.

“Ah, never mind. Let’s just say it’s a rather unpleasant form of execution.”

“In my experience, all executions are unpleasant. Especially for the executed.” The elder rose and made for the ladder. “Wait at least an hour after I’m gone before ascending, that should minimize the risk of detection. Until this evening, honored Avatar.”

----------------------------------------

It turned out that it was actually kind of difficult to climb a rickety ladder when one of your arms was bound against your chest. Go figure.

Eventually, Callan managed to figure out a method that involved twining his arm through the steps, then scrabbling upward until his butt stuck out at a sharp angle, then hooked one leg around the side while he hauled his body straight again with his good arm. He was really glad no one was around to see, because he almost certainly looked ridiculous.

Such a noble and graceful creature, humans, Xeph noted dryly. Truly I was wise beyond measure to saddle myself to you. Why, you might even reach the top floor before the lud returns from her work!

Alright, almost no one was around to see.

“If you’ve got time to complain, how about lending a hand instead?” Callan snapped. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t. So maybe don’t judge.”

Hmmph. I may not be able to cook a meal, either, but I still know when one tastes wrong.

Callan paused. “Can you taste food?”

Of course I can taste! I use all of your senses, and experience all of the sensations that you do.

“Wait, so does that mean you also feel it when I—?”

Yes. Xeph chuckled, the sound like a rumbling volcano. Don’t worry, mortal, I have ridden enough avatars over the centuries that I am no longer disgusted by the various sounds and expressions that you all make prior to coitus. Nor will I judge what carnal activities you choose to pursue in your free time.

“Says the guy who just finished mocking me for climbing a ladder. Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word.” Callan straightened again and found himself at the top of the ladder. With his good hand he began feeling about for a handle. Not finding one, he simply pressed upward.

The trapdoor swung open with a loud bang. Callan winced. Welp, already off to a great start.

He waited, listening for the sounds of an alarm being raised. When nothing happened, he awkwardly clambered his way up and out.

The main floor of Kivi’s house was spacious and airy, quite in contrast to the basement crowded with its shelves and bags of what Callan suspected were more spirebeans.

No bags were in evidence up here. Instead, a kitchen rose around him, a solid-looking table set with knives and other tools pressed against one wall, with an alcove for a large firepit near the far end. Passageways led out to the rest of the house in either direction.

Keeping low so he’d be harder to see through the windows, Callan followed Kivi’s instructions and made his way down the larger of the two hallways. On his way he passed several open rooms filled with couches, desks, even a few beds. Altogether there was space for at least six people—lud—to live here comfortably. Hadn’t Kivi mentioned something about a ‘master’?

Though Tervak had also mentioned something about the cult taking prisoners away with their caravans. Probably better not to ask her about the empty rooms, then.

At the end of the hallway, he found another ladder, this one even taller than the one in the basement, though luckily without a trapdoor waiting at the top. Callan glowered at it.

“Hasn’t anybody here ever heard of stairs before?” he grumbled, taking hold and pulling himself onto the bottom rung.

Perhaps too many materials are required for stairs. These lud don’t appear to have access to much hardwood.

“What about this?” Callan asked, rapping the ladder. As he did, he realized that the material didn’t feel right. It wasn’t nearly solid enough for wood, and gave slightly underneath his knuckles. The ladder below had been the same.

Most everything here is made from the bark of the pythian tree. It’s relatively easy to harvest and grows back quickly. I suspect that is one of the main exports of the village—that, and pythian sap. Both were highly valuable commodities even during my own time.

They reached the top of the ladder, and Callan found himself in what appeared to be a storage room. Several wardrobes and chests of drawers leaned against the walls. There was also a small bed in one corner under the eaves of the roof, but it didn’t appear anyone had used it in some time.

More importantly, there was a shuttered window next to the bed.

Callan crept over to it and unbound the shutter ties as quietly as he could. Easing it open, he peered out at the village.

There were perhaps three dozen buildings spread out beneath him, and other than a large stone structure in the distance, none of them were more than one story. They all had roofs shingled with some dark material—Callan suspected more pythian bark—and the streets between them were bare dirt, which dusted up in the occasional breeze. From here he couldn’t see signs of any movement.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” he whispered. “I hope I didn’t risk coming up here for nothing.”

Patience, mortal. Tervak told us the cult makes a habit of patrolling. One is bound to pass eventually.

It only took about ten minutes to prove the elder’s words. The crunch of footsteps announced a patrol mere moments before they turned a corner and started down the street past Kivi’s house. Callan quickly ducked back, but none of the group even so much as glanced up. In fact, they didn’t seem to be patrolling so much as just wandering around, and the group was casually passing a bottle between them, laughing and joking amongst each other.

Growing bolder, Callan leaned out further. There were three of the cult members, and they were as different from the lud as he was, if not more so.

The first looked human at first, but something about the way he walked kept bothering Callan until he realized why—the man’s knees bent in the wrong direction. Also, his eyes were larger than they should have been, giving him a bug-eyed expression.

The second was completely hairless, his skin having a rubbery, bluish-gray cast to it. He took a swig of the bottle, and when he grinned, Callan saw two rows of razor-sharp teeth.

But it was the third member that really drew Callan’s eye. He only wore a pair of shorts, and his entire upper body was covered in small, greenish feathers. Larger ones stretched from underneath his arms, and while they didn’t appear nearly enough to allow for flight, they still gave an overall impression of a half-man, half-bird hybrid.

Ah, yes. Xeph sighed happily. Those are more of the elevated races. The forfiliin, lilish, and veloom, respectively. I remember, the forfiliin were designed for scouting maneuvers, but proved more than capable as front-line soldiers, while the veloom—

“Is it just me, or do you seem to recall your memories based on visual cues?” Callan whispered, interrupting the gods rambling history lesson. There would be time for that later, but right now they had more important issues.

I keep telling you, mortal, my memories are compressed! And yes, that makes sense, visual cues are an important factor in finding the right pattern to unlock the knowledge I have stored away.

“Well did you happen to unlock anything about the cult they belong to? I’d like to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

Below them, the three cultists paused. The forfiliin said something to the others Callan couldn’t make out, then held out a hand. A gout of flame burst to life, leaving a scorch mark on the wall of the building opposite. The others laughed, and they set off down the street again.

I think that answered our question, Xeph noted. Callan nodded in agreement.

“Soooooo, fire god. Is that going to be a problem?”

Were we at full power, I would say no. Stone is intrinsically advantaged against the bounties of the flame gods, much as we are weak against ice and chaos. However, with our limited orisons... I fear it may not be enough to merely harry the priests when we attack. We will need to strike decisively, and with force.

“Yeah. Something tells me arming the priests with a few wooden spears and clubs isn’t the best idea.” Callan took another moment to consider it. By the time the priests had turned another corner and disappeared, he’d made up his mind. Pulling open his stat screen, he selected the open slot.

You may choose one of the following Orisons

1. Wurmchain

2. Caltrops

3. Dveorgeye

With a flick of his concentration, Callan selected Wurmchain. Somewhere inside of him, a new shining ball of light burst to life. He didn’t even need to go looking for it this time.

Caution, mortal. You don’t want to go summoning that where you don’t have room to swing it around.

“Noted. Guess I’ll need to find somewhere open to practice. We’ll also need to train the priests in Shape Stone. I want everyone ready for when we attack.” Callan cracked his knuckles, then turned back to the accursed ladder. “I suppose we’re going to be busy the next few weeks. Might as well get what rest I can.”

Wait a moment.

He paused. “Yeah?”

You’re forgetting something.

“What are you talking about—oh.” Pulling up his screen again, Callan studied his statistics section. While his gut kept telling him his points were best spent improving his own constitution, he had to admit that Xeph hadn’t steered him wrong yet. That warranted a bit of trust, he decided.

You have increased Piety by 2

Total cost = 2 Faith

Current Piety is at 4

“There. Happy?”

Quite. It seems you are not quite the lost cause that I feared, human. We may survive this yet.

Rolling his eyes, Callan set to climbing down the ladder.