Hands held together in a scoop, Ethan watched the minnow dart to the edge of the pool he held. The fish looked much like something from Earth. Maybe just a fathead minnow, or baby golden shiner. Perhaps even one of those species bred in captivity, meant to be fed to other fish. Color variations on the fathead, but unique enough to stock entire feeder tanks at the store. He’d often wondered how anyone made money on that venture.
The sun was dipping low in the sky, the trees on the western bank of the lake casting long shadows over the glass-like surface of water. In the distance, a single rowboat was angling itself toward him. A person clad in blue manned the front, shielding their eyes from the reflections on the lake. The team of rowers worked in unison, causing the craft to glide across the lake. Before long, the nasal voice of High Priest Egbert called across the way.
“Caller Bells!” he shouted.
Ethan parted his cupped hands, letting the small fish pour into the lake below. Something in his heart told him he should be annoyed with the priest’s intrusion. It was a beautiful sunset, after all. Something that some might want to share with others. Lucantele’s bolstering presence must have had something to do with that. Instead of responding with hate, the Caller flashed a smile and waved.
“Egbert! How ya doing?”
“Fine!” Egbert shouted back. “Just a moment while we row toward you.”
The priest laughed, then stood awkwardly as the boat approached. He hiked his priestly robes up to his mid-thigh, then jumped into the shallows with Ethan. They exchanged bows.
“Lucantele appeared within the temple. Discussing something with the Great Spirit Telbarantis. How exciting!”
Ethan thought the two spirits were communicating through… telepathy? Now that he thought about it, it was on-brand for the spirits to speak face-to-face.
“We all learned something today,” Ethan said, shuffling his feet through the water. “When I upgrade my summon spells, the spirits appear. Which is strange.”
“Yes! They’re bound to the land,” Egbert said, joining the Caller in his shuffling procession. “It was a great joy to see them both in the temple. Even if Telbarantis was… ah… much smaller than before.”
“I’m happy to help. Even if I don’t understand how or why I’m helping,” Ethan said.
The pair shuffled to the drop-off. The section of the lake’s shore where a sudden downturn in elevation saw waters that would submerge both men up to their necks. That’s the spot where the fisherman targeted, from what little he understood about the sport. He was more of an observer.
“I’ll say that most citizens would get in trouble if they were to wade in the sacred waters,” Egbert said, chuckling. “We see children playing and don’t punish them, but these waters are consecrated.”
“Whoops,” Ethan said, offering Egbert an apologetic shrug. “Didn’t know.”
“All is forgiven. I just wanted to chat. Before you ran off on another adventure. About the importance of finally having a Caller around.” Egbert reached into the water. Instead of darting away, a school of minnows came to rest in his palm. He lifted them out, and poured them back. They darted around his ankles.
“Can’t say I’m doing anything special. Just show up, and the spirits appear. Makes me feel like an imposter sometimes, but then…”
“Then you feel the light of Lucantele,” Egbert said, finishing Ethan’s thought. “It doesn’t matter if you understand it. Just that you use it to help. There are other temples in the duchy. Other eager priesthoods waiting for you.”
Egbert shuffled through the water, drawing close to Ethan and pulling him in. The Priest gave him a serious look, then a nod. “Telbarantis hasn’t been making good on his pact with the land. Hasn’t been seeing the farms full for years now.”
“You’re saying he’s not doing his job?”
“Exactly, but… Well, I know he can hear me. I’m sorry, Lord Telbarantis. He lost his way. Lost his mind, perhaps. When you brought him back here? That’s what set him right. Showed him what his purpose was.”
That was an interesting concept. Ethan reflected on it while he watched the colors of the sunset play across the lake. When a person with a [Caller’s Core] approached a site of power, somewhere the spirits called home, the spirits could cross into the mortal realm. It was a temporary thing, but they could do it. The implication of Telbarantis abandoning his duties was that he’d spent too much time away from the mortals. Something made him stray, and that left an important reality hanging in the Caller’s mind.
“You’re saying I need to visit all the temples,” Ethan said.
“That would help the spirits out greatly. But not all bind themselves to massive temples. Some inhabit small shrines, not strong enough to offer you their power.”
“You’re very kind not to say it,” Ethan said, patting Egbert on the shoulder with a wet hand. “A selfish Caller wouldn't visit the smaller shrines.”
“Ah, to put it that way… well, hopefully you understand. Adventurers chase power, but look at this.” The Priest extended his hand, gesturing vaguely at the lake then the town. “Regular people. Who rely on the spirits. Don’t lose your way on that path to great power, Bells.”
The thought embedded itself into Ethan’s mind. He’d seen the spirits and power tied closely together, like two sides of a coin. His mind wandered from that topic. The water stirred near the drop-off. A larger fish, a long black stripe running down its brown side, gobbled up a group of minnows.
“Ah! There are larger fish,” Ethan said.
But he didn’t get a good look at the predator. It was there and gone in a blink, descending back into the depths of the lake. Egbert placed a hand on the Caller’s shoulder and laughed.
“I’m uncertain, but there may be a fish Great Spirit out there somewhere.”
“That would be cool.”
Despite his first impression of High Priest Egbert, Ethan decided the guy was pretty cool. His first impression was one of a zealous worshiper of a lizard spirit. A mindless zealot that had this operation set up around him. Instead, he found someone with genuine concern for the normal people. Telbarantis was tied closely to the fertility of the farms. The fertility of the river fed into the life’s blood of the common person near Oudsted.
That painted the worshipers of the Great Spirits in a different light.
While the exchange was nice, Ethan excused himself from the bank of the lake. Egbert was happy to return across the lake, leaving the Caller to explore the town on his own. But there wasn’t much to see within Oudsted. Not unless he stuck to the shops near the duke’s spire. Even then, the places there seemed more opulent than they had any right to be. Instead, he just wandered until the sun had set.
Ethan made his way back to the Golden Ox Inn, finding both Twist and Targe waiting for him in the lobby.
“About time,” Twist said with a huff.
Ethan waved him off. “Can’t a man enjoy the fruits of his labor?”
“Your robe is wet,” Targe said. “So are your pants. Worse news, we need to meet with the duke before we head to the dungeon. It’s all hush-hush.”
“Naturally,” Ethan said. “Do we have our dungeon guide for the run?”
“The news gets worse. The duke, in his infinite wisdom, threw his weight around at the Guild. We’re running it with just us. When we bring the corrupted core back to him, the job is done.”
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Targe didn’t seem to like that news very much. Ethan sensed it was because the duke was violating the sanctity of the Guild’s procedures, and he couldn’t blame him. That implied there was something about the corrupted dungeon that Duke Leonard didn’t want anyone else to see. It was all too strange, but the Caller wanted to get back out there. The sooner they cleared it, the sooner he could work on Luca’s temple.
“I’m guessing we leave tomorrow,” Ethan said.
“Yep. Bright and early. Good thing the [Corrupted Dungeon] is close.”
Ethan let out a steady breath. At least it was close.
“Dinner?”
Ethan fought back the urge to clutch his coin purse when the group went for food. They sat in a full-service restaurant, something only common in the fine dining areas of Oudsted, and enjoyed a meal. The Caller seemed to gravitate towards places that gave him a better view of the lake, feeling a constant pull to those deep waters. He sipped a glass of unwatered wine, enjoying the fruits of those hard-working farmers.
Creamy pasta dishes, sides of a tomato-like plant grilled with salt, and as much wine as the group could drink. But with the looming delve, they held back. Both on the food, and the drink. Instead, Targe took the dinner to discuss tactics. The group was untested as a unit, giving way to the need for proper planning.
“Diving straight into the dungeon right after you ranked up?” Targe asked, snorting a laugh. “Stupid idea. The duke can stuff it if he thinks we’re that stupid.”
“Training. In the forest,” Twist said.
Ethan nodded. He liked that idea. It would give him time to figure out how to work with the other men. In his intended capacity as a support summoner, instead of a solo act.
----------------------------------------
“We should buy a donkey.”
Ethan stood near the western gate of Oudsted, looking at their newly rented donkey. Targe shrugged at the comment, and Twist made no motion to offer his opinion. At the stables, the donkey was the cheapest option for rental. The way the creature sagged in the middle, laden by all the traveling gear, showed that. There were other creatures, some exotic and some mundane. Massive horses would have done the job well. But the Dark Elf was convinced that if they bought a steed, they should buy a giant beetle.
“A strong mount. Thick carapace,” Twist said.
The Caller eyed the various beetles in the stable, wondering how they got along with the mundane creatures. His eyes lingered on the lizard-cat. Sleek, but likely useless for carrying their gear. Perhaps the beetle was the best option.
The group paid for their rented pack donkey, then headed out the western gate. Like all gates within Oudsted, it was manned by a group of sturdy guards. Guards that seemed uninterested in checking the medallions of those leaving the town. Carefree in their vigil of the gate. It saw less traffic than both the southern and the eastern gate. The only thing west was a monster-ridden forest and the half-circle of mountains that protected the town.
Following the road from that gate, the group found farms along the way. More strange crops mingling with those that Ethan could recognize. Once again, Oudsted showed its willingness to invest in textiles and food. The Caller had seen none of the end-products of that textile industry, though. Perhaps the banners within town when they had the festival. These were distracting thoughts, meant to bring his mind away from the journey ahead.
The Duchy of Wexenhal, as Ethan had come to see, was filled with thick forests. Most were marked by the broad leafed, oak-like trees with the triangular bark patterns. While there was a scattering of interesting conifers, there weren’t enough for them to stand out. The journey to the forest’s edge only took an hour, if that. With the help of the road, the group made good time. Even if the donkey brayed with objections, standing near the shadow created by the canopy.
“Come along,” Targe said, tugging the reins. “Hope we didn’t rent a skittish donkey.”
With Oudsted still in sight, the group plunged into the forest. A few paces in, Ethan felt the hair on his neck stand up. With [Summon Lucantele] in his mind, he watched in the distance as an insect-like creature emerged from the underbrush. Instead of going for their weapons, Twist and Targe offered a wave. The creature was bipedal, looking like an upright ant. It wore something similar to adventurer gear that Ethan had seen in the past. A medallion hung from its neck.
When the creature approached, Targe offered a series of rapid hand gestures. Ethan was lost, especially after the ant-person responded. They exchanged silent words for some time while Twist held the donkey back. Then the creature chittered something, and headed toward Oudsted.
“Care to explain that to me?” Ethan asked.
“Ah, yeah… big problem with them.” Targe shook his head, taking control of the donkey once again. “Insectoid races get a bad reputation. Worse than dark elves, if you can believe it. They can’t speak, which makes it worse.”
Ethan had noticed the difference between Targe’s hands and the insectoids. The bug-person didn’t have the digits to perform the more complex motions. “But they can use sign language?”
“Some military forces use the Silent Tongue. Gestures meant to convey basic information. Nothing complex. She was following a dungeon scouting object, but ran into something. Couldn’t understand what it was, though.”
“Now that is weird,” Ethan said.
“If one of her race doesn’t get with the Guild, they’re in serious danger. I’m happy to see our local branch took her in.”
Targe didn’t withdraw his copper rod to find the dungeon. He plunged deeper into the forest, ignoring the Rank 0 deer that littered the area. Instead of attacking, when they spotted three Rank 1 people, they scattered into the forest. Twist ranged ahead while they moved in a generally northwest direction. It was hard to tell with the crowd of canopies overhead, but they made good progress.
“Rank 1 [Mountain Bear] up ahead,” Twist said, stepping from behind a tree. “Practice?”
“Yeah. Great time to practice,” Targe said. He unloaded the donkey, aided by Ethan, and hobbled the creature. The donkey didn’t mind, nosing at the ground to search for food. “We’re going to see where we all fit into combat. Alright?”
“Sounds fine to me,” Ethan said.
“This is a bad test, but it’s better than throwing the team into the fire.”
A single enemy did not reflect the reality of dungeons, let alone a corrupted one. Ethan didn’t have a measure for how much more difficult the dungeon would be, but he’d rather hone himself on something easy. Targe was right.
“We’re going to establish a standard formation. Normally, Twist runs the show.”
“Damn right.”
“He skirts the edge of battle, taking opportunistic shots while I hold the line. He’ll update me with information, then I can make a plan. That’s your job now, Bells.”
Targe gave Ethan a short nod.
“Not sure you have to use my adventuring name.”
“Sure I do. You’re an adventurer now.” Targe clapped a hand over the Caller’s shoulder. “Now you get to use Luca to scout the edge of the battle. Intercept anything that’s coming in. Use your summoned spirit to distract them.”
“That’s a good strategy,” Ethan said. “Used it a few times when I was in the [Goblin Dungeon].”
“Otherwise, make sure you have your [Healer’s Subcore] equipped,” Targe said.
Ethan rubbed his hands together. “You don’t even know what other abilities I have. I got something juicy for you.”
Targe raised an eyebrow. Ethan laughed to himself, casting [Summon Lucantele]. The silver squirrel burst from his circle, padding around the forest’s floor and chittering with excitement. Perhaps there was something of the Great Spirit in that vessel.
“After you, scout,” Twist said.
Ethan sent Luca ahead, bounding off into the forest where Twist had indicated. Luca sent a mental signal back after a time, spotting the [Mountain Bear] clawing at the trunk of a rotting tree. The Caller informed his companions. Targe, with a kite-style shield strapped to his hand, spear at the ready, pushed forward. The group spotted the bear, and the Fighter seemed to vanish.
The sound of cracking bones, a great impact, filled the forest. The [Mountain Bear] let out a sound of surprise as Targe slammed into it, nearly pinning the creature to a tree with his spear. Then his sword was out, flashing a deadly pattern of the beast’s hide. Twist came in next, slicing away at the creature from behind. Ethan was left at the clearing’s edge, hesitating before sending mental commands to his summon.
[Barrier of Hope] flashed through the forest, filling it with a pulsing silver light. The shield popped up around Targe, who made a surprised sound. Then the Fighter laughed, going in harder on the bear. Luca bounded around the clearing, sticking to the edge to search for potential ambushes. Ethan was left holding his staff near the edge, his eyes casting over the emptiness.
“Heal!” Targe shouted.
Ethan cast [Cure Minor Wounds], dropping his mana from 160 to 130. A mental warning came from Luca, who had increased his circle around the clearing. The Caller repositioned himself, craning his neck to see into the forest. The underbrush swayed, low-hanging branches swept to one side.
“Something is coming,” Ethan said, watching his companions battle with concern.
Luca sent another series of thoughts back. They were jumbled up. Confused in a way the Caller couldn’t understand. It was as though the spirit had spotted something that couldn’t exist, yet was.
“Something bad,” Ethan shouted.
Luca’s health halved. The spirit flew through the air, leaving a trail of silver motes as he went. Slamming hard into a tree, and losing another length of his health bar, the summoned spirit fell to the ground with a whimper. The Caller bit back his empathy, and sent his summon back into the forest.
“Almost done!” Targe shouted, blocking an oncoming swipe from the bear.
“A few more hits,” Twist put in.
The ground fell from beneath Ethan. No, he just wasn’t standing on it anymore. A mass of twisting purple and black swept through the clearing, shattering trees and sending the Caller tumbling end-over-end. Channeling [Cure Minor Wounds], and chipping his mana bar down to 100, Ethan watched as the bear fell. A system prompt flooded his vision, a notice of his experience gained, as a massive figure emerged from the forest.