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Amelia
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Dexter and I spent the next few hours going over Illuminate. He eventually got down to only a handful of words and gestures but seemed increasingly frustrated that his orbs weren’t always glowing steadily. “I don’t understand what’s causing it.” He growled. “I’m not faltering in my concentration. But it’s like I have to force the spell to stabilize.” I turned the page to look for a possible explanation. Instead, I found one detailing one of the potential modifications to the orb.
I tried one out as I comforted Dexter. “Don’t get too worked up. It’s just a basic spell.” The orb in my hand change to a green hue.
Dexter looked at my hand as he noticed the change in color. “It’s the fact that it’s so basic that frustrates me.” He replied. He ran his finger down the page as he read the paragraph. “If this happens with basic spells just imagine what could happen if I did something more complex.” He turned his attention back to the spell in his hand. His orb suddenly started flickering between red and white. I turned away as the strobing strained my eyes. The strobing slowly died to a steady red glow. I turned back as Dexter gestured at it. “See what I mean? I don’t want an important spell to randomly work halfway.” He suddenly grabbed the book and turned to a random page. “Like this one.” He said, pointing at the book. I looked at the page. It was an entry on a spell called Impact. It described a spell that could ‘manipulate the mana to abruptly push against a shield wall or other solid object.’ “I don’t want to cast a spell like that and find out it didn’t affect a now angry soldier.” He turned to another page, an entry on a spell called Teleport. “This one I definitely don’t want to fuck up.” He said. “Imagine half my body making it to the destination for this. It would be a Harry Potter splinching without the easy fix.”
I nodded compassionately. “We can figure out what’s wrong later. For now, let’s move back to learning some safer spells.” I said as I turned the book back to Illuminate.
Dexter looked at the spell, let out a sigh, then nodded. “Crossing the bridge when we get there.” He said. He ran his finger down the page and we continued to practice.
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Dexter
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I stood in front of Sheila’s bedroom door again. It was a green door with butterflies painted on the front. They sparkled and splashed with color as they seemed to dance upon the wood. The display was joyous and hypnotizing. I reached out to open the door. I pulled. The door didn’t move. I tried pushing. It still didn’t move. “Sheila, open up,” I said, loudly. “Mom wants you up and ready for school.” There wasn’t an answer. “Sheila?” I tried again. I was starting to feel uneasy. I hammered my fist on the door. “Sheila get up.” I didn’t hear a response. “Sheila!” Suddenly flames started seeping from the edge of the door. Now I was panicking. “SHEILA!” I cried. I took a step back and brought my foot forward to kick the door. “I’ve got to save her.” The door shuddered as I continued to kick and kick. “SHEILA!” I was starting to tear up. The door was starting to darken, burning the beautiful upon it. The butterflies were starting to burn. “SHEILA! SHEILA!!” I brought my foot forward with all my might. The door shuddered again but didn’t open. “I CAN’T LOSE HER!” I brought my foot forward again and the door finally flew open. What I saw beyond was grotesque and disturbing. It’s like I was seeing two rooms at the same time. They flickered between each other as neither seemed to overtake the other. One of them held the scorched remains of what used to be a bedroom and the blackened body of a child. The other was just. . blank.
I rushed forward to pick up the limp form while the rooms flickered in and out of existence. I cradled the body as I desperately tried to find a sign of life. Instead, the burnt husk sat frozen in my arms, unresponsive. A tear fell from my face. “I can’t lose her.” Suddenly, a thought that wasn’t my own ran through my mind. “You haven’t, this isn’t real” I jumped slightly and looked up, expecting someone to be standing there, but there wasn’t. “What do you mean this isn’t real? I’m holding her fucking body. . I mean this isn’t real. It’s a hallucination. A dream.” I looked down at the charred body again. Its eyes suddenly opened and let in a small gasp. I jumped back as the form disintegrated into a swarm of butterflies and the burnt room flickered out of existence, leaving the empty infinite plane. “Holy shit,” I exclaimed. “Wait, that means I can still save her. . What? No, you idi-”
The thought was interrupted by a cry from behind me. “DEXTER!” It shouted. I turned back to the doorway. It was the lone object in the infinite expanse. There wasn’t even a real wall behind it. I didn’t care. I jumped up and rushed back through as I followed the voice. “You moron, it’s not real. None of this is. It’s a dream.” I turned down the hallway and saw Sheila, being dragged by her arm by a dark and hooded figure. Her wild hair was bloody and matted to her head. “DEXTER!” She cried again. “I can still save her.” I began running down the hall. “NO, YOU CAN’T!” The hallway started to stretch. It continued as the thoughts started to overtake my mind. “You want to know why? Because she’s already DEAD!” The dark figure suddenly stopped and lifted Sheila. I tried to go faster, but it was like running in place. My feet groaned in pain as they pounded on the floor. “None of this is real, and there’s nothing we can do about her DEATH!” The figure pulled out a small knife. “You’re wrong, I can still save her.” I reached my hand out, desperately trying to get closer. I continued to run as the figure slowly drove his arm up and the knife towards her chest. “You’re just reliving a painful memory, nothing we can do will change the outcome.” My feet pounded on the tiled floor. “Just accept it and let it happen.” I tried to stretch out my fingers, desperate to affect the figure. “I CAN STILL SAVE HER!” The knife slowly met her chest and pushed through. Sheila’s small mouth slowly flew open as the blade pierced her flesh.
“NOOOOOO!”
I suddenly sat bolt upright in my hammock, cool breeze chilling my sweat-soaked face. I was breathing heavily and weeping. The dream slowly faded, but Sheila’s. . Shel’s. . death remained in my mind. I let my head fall into my hands as I wept. I wept for Shel, for the days she’d never have, the smile she’d never wear again, the full and fulfilling life that was robbed from her and her family. I sat in the hammock as I let the emotions wash over me. I felt my body tremble slightly as I sobbed into my own hands. My tears were suddenly interrupted by an intrusive thought. “There’s no use crying over spilled milk.” I raised my head up as the thought remained. “This isn’t a glass of milk.” I choked out softly. “This is a person. A Child. . And now she’s gone.” I let my head fall back into my hands as the sorrow washed over me. “There’s nothing we can do about it now.” I slowly raised my head up as my tears finally died. “The best we can do is-” “Revenge,” I whispered, interpreting the thought. “We march into Adympia and lay waste to the entire empire.” The thought didn’t respond for a minute. “I suppose.” It finally said. “But we’ll need to be prepared.” I turned towards the edge of the loft. From where I was seated I could see the corner of my car and the table that held the spellbook. “I’ll be prepared,” I muttered angrily. I glanced at my watch. 5:36. “Let’s get started,” I said, throwing the blankets off and dropping down from the hammock.
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Amelia
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I was woken up by a soft glow streaming through the windows in Dexter’s car. I opened my eyes blearily as I tried to find the source. I looked up and saw a glowing orb floating behind the car. A dark figure stood beside it, seeming to mutter something under his breath. I slowly got up and quietly walked towards the figure. I rounded the back of the car when I saw who it was. Dexter stood over a book, reading the pages as he flipped through them. Every now and then he’d turn to write something down on an open binder. “Dexter?” I whispered cautiously. Dexter turned quickly, and I jumped slightly when I saw his bloodshot eyes. It looked like he’d been crying.
He seemed to relax as he saw me. “Sorry, you just scared me. Did I wake you?” He whispered softly.
I shook my head as I walked to his side. “Not really. . What time is it?” I asked, yawning.
Dexter glanced at his wrist. “6:45.” He said simply. He turned back to reading the book. I looked over his arm as I glanced at what he’d written in the binder. It was a list of spells and numbers. He added another spell, Tremor, to the list.
I looked up at him as he refused to meet my gaze. “How long have you been up?” I asked.
Dexter shrugged guiltily. “I woke up about an hour ago.” He replied. “I wanted to get a list of potentially useful spells so that I can prioritize what to learn.” I nodded as I looked back at the list. It seemed mostly composed of offensive-sounding spells, Fireball, Lightning, and the like. There were a few seeming utility-based spells, Teleport, Find Water. I stared at the spell. “Find Water?” I thought. I looked back at Dexter. “Why would he need that?” I looked back at the list. I scanned for spells that sounded defensive or sounded like they could heal someone. I saw nothing of the sort.
I turned to Dexter again. “I thought you wanted to learn defensive spells, spells that could fix wounds,” I said, slightly accusingly.
Dexter looked up from the book and seemed to consider it for a moment. “It’s for. . Uhmm. . After. . I learn. . those spells.” He replied defensively. I stared at him. He didn’t meet my gaze.
I put my hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to talk?” I asked him.
He was silent for a minute. “Not right now.” He finally replied. “Maybe later, but I’m not in the mood for talking right now.” Dexter still refused to meet my gaze. I finally let out a sigh and nodded as I let go of his shoulder and walk over to another table. “Since we're both up I might as well practice Levitate. . Please don't be planning something stupid.”
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Bulak was the first to arrive this time. Her knock echoed through the barn as I levitated the third book towards me. The spells quickly disintegrated as it got close to the other two books. “Why does it keep doing that?” I thought as Dexter moved towards the door. I picked up the books and placed them on a table as I followed him towards the door. Bulak gave Dexter a stern expression. “We shall be moving a bit faster than I first anticipated,” Bulak said, waving Dexter outside. “My father was able to convince the council to grant you an opportunity for the rite, but they have scheduled it three weeks from now.” I followed the two of them into the front yard and watched as Bulak handed Dexter a weapon, a spear.
Dexter cursed under his breath as he took it. “We’ll just have to make do then,” Dexter replied, getting into a stance, widening his footing and directing the spear in front of himself. I closed the door as I watched Bulak pick up her own weapons, a sword and shield. Bulak directed the shield before her and kept the sword drawn back behind her, ready to strike. They stared at each other for a moment, then began sparring. I sat against the barn as I watched them go at it. Dexter used the spear to block and deflect the sword as he repeatedly stabbed at Bulak’s shield. Bulak took the brunt of Dexter’s strikes and retaliated with the sword in her other hand. They continued like this as the clashing metal seemed to shudder from their strikes. Ten minutes in, I knew Bulak had the upper hand. Her movements were more decisive and swift, while Dexter seemed to have trouble choosing a strategy. He seemed to falter on whether to dodge Bulak’s next attack or try and block it with the handle. He swore loudly as he was knocked down for the third time in an hour.
Bulak straightened and stood over him as he crawled to his feet. “You need to dedicate yourself to your movement,” Bulak critiqued. Dexter nodded reluctantly as he got to his feet, brushing the grass and dirt off his jeans. Bulak continued as Dexter panted from the exertion. “You are indecisive, and it slows you down,”
Dexter softly swore as he rubbed his head. “I know. I know. It’s just. . I don’t know why.” Dexter growled. Bulak and I stared at him in confusion. Dexter quickly clarified as he set the but of his spear into the dirt. “I mean, I don’t know why I’m faltering. It’s like I take another second to make a decision.”
Bulak considered for a moment then nodded. “Perhaps you’re not as recovered as you thought,” Bulak suggested.
Dexter shook his head insistently. “I feel fine, it’s just . . I don’t know. It’s like I have to debate myself about the next move.” I looked at Bulak. She seemed to consider Dexter’s words again, trying to find a solution.
Suddenly a voice called out from down the hill. “I see I have been beaten,” Brokil shouted. The three of us turned to him. His satchel was noticeably loaded with several books. He was trudging up the hill towards us. “I hope I am not interrupting something important.” He said as he stopped next to Dexter.
Bulak shook her head. “In truth, your arrival is most convenient,” Bulak replied. “I believe Dexter is in need of a distraction.”
Dexter turned to her. “I can keep going,” Dexter protested. “I just need some time.”
Bulak shook her head again. “That's not something warriors receive before a battle. Conflict is swift and unpredictable. Surely you have learned that already.” Bulak retorted. She turned towards Brokil and motioned at Dexter. “Teach him some meditative techniques. If it is something within, then he may benefit from them.” Brokil nodded and motioned for Dexter to follow.
Dexter didn't seem happy with that plan. “I already know about meditation. I can still spar.” He protested. He got into a stance again.
Bulak looked at him then shook her head. “We are done for the moment.” She said, turning away. Dexter growled. . then charged. I turned to warn Bulak, but she was already reacting. She brought her sword up and blocked Dexter’s swinging spear. Then she did some sort of turning motion that caused Dexter’s blade to go flying. Meanwhile, she grabbed his now free hand and twisted it, forcing him to turn around. She then planted her foot firmly on his back and released him right as she kicked. Dexter flew forward and fell on his face. Bulak scowled as Dexter spat dirt from his face. “I’ll ignore that act of cowardice,” Bulak growled angrily. “But you will listen to me from now on. Yes?”
Dexter turned to her and let out a sigh. “Yes.” He said begrudgingly.
Bulak pointed her blade at Dexter. “Yes, Who?” She asked.
Dexter was silent for a minute. “Yes, Lady Bulak.” He finally said. Bulak nodded and lowered her blade. Brokil leaned slightly and helped Dexter up. He wiped himself off then slowly followed Brokil towards the barn.
Brokil gestured inside as he walked in. “These meditations might solve your concentration problem.” I heard Brokil say before Dexter closed the door.
I turned to Bulak. “I know you’re justifiably upset, but could you please go easy on him?” I asked.
Bulak stared at me. “Why should I do that?” She asked. “He seems reluctant to follow the simplest instructions.” She moved to pick up Dexter’s fallen blade.
I let out a sigh. “He’s grieving,” I countered. Bulak seemed to pause after picking up the blade. Her shoulders hunched slightly. “He’s lost someone important to him. You must know how it feels.”
I jumped slightly as Bulak suddenly turned to me, her eyes were slightly reddened. “Do not speak of grief to me.” She growled. “I have felt its cold claws. You outsiders know nothing of it. You have barely been here a week. How could you possibly grieve for someone you barely know, someone that is not of your blood?” She trudged over towards the table of weapons, placing the blades back on it. She didn’t turn back.
I stepped towards her hesitantly. “You might not believe it, but humans tend to form strong emotional bonds with. . just about everything.” Bulak continued to stand there, her back towards me. I rubbed the back of my neck as I got closer. “And I think that’s what happened with Shel. I saw it in him. Even when his mind was on escape he was excited to teach her, to give her a brighter future.” Bulak said nothing as I took another step. “Even if she wasn’t his family he was excited to see her excel. He cared about her as if she was his own.” Bulak slowly turned to me. Her eyes were still red. She seemed to think for a minute.
She finally wiped her face as she glared at me. “So why not you?” She asked. “Surely you spent time with her as well. So why are you not grieving as much as he is?” I considered her question for a minute. I definitely saw it in Dexter, but that didn’t mean I felt the same.
I shrugged guiltily. “Everyone grieves in their own way,” I replied, looking to the side. “My background in psychology helps me go through the stages. He’s probably somewhere near anger.” I looked back at Bulak. She was still glaring at me. “Don’t get me wrong. I still miss her. I haven’t gone a few hours without thinking of her. But I didn’t develop the same connections he did. If I were to guess, I think the isolation from his family caused him to attach quickly to the nearest family-esque figure. In this case, Shel.” Bulak paused for a minute, taking in my words.
She shook her head as she stopped glaring at me. “You outsider truly are bizarre.”
I shrugged again. “It depends on your perspective. How do you think we’re reacting to this whole scenario?” I replied.
Bulak thought for a moment, then nodded. “Your words have merit.” She said, stepping towards me. “But let us not waste any more time. You wished to learn how to defend yourself, correct?” I nodded.
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We spent the next three hours outside. Bulak taught me some more advanced self-defense moves, and some basic martial arts techniques. We eventually sparred this time, though I could tell she wasn’t using everything she knew. She was deliberately setting herself up for me to use the defensive moves. I redirected her strike for the third time, my breasts flopping painfully on my front. “Hold on a second,” I said, holding up my hand. Bulak paused as she saw me wincing. I took a step back and looked down at my chest. I wouldn’t describe myself as buxom, but that didn’t exclude my breasts from the laws of physics. I usually wore a sports bra for exactly this reason, but considering those didn’t exist yet I was having to make due. I adjusted myself as best I could without the usual support. “Note to self: Invent a sports bra.” I noticed my nipples were erect from adrenaline, poking through Dexter’s oversized shirt. “Scratch that, invent bras in general.” I finished adjusting myself and looked back up at Bulak.
She was staring curiously at me. “Do you require an undershirt?” She asked.
I looked down again. “If it'll prevent my tits from flopping around, then yes,” I replied. I looked back up. Bulak had stepped closer. She reached her hand out and grabbed my chest. I took in a breath as she massaged my breast, measuring its size. “Buy me dinner first,” I joked.
Bulak looked up, face turning a little red, as she let go of my chest. “I don’t have the correct size with me, but I can bring one tomorrow.” She stated, coldly.
I smiled softly. “That would be great, thank you,” I replied. I continued to stare as Bulak looked around uncomfortably. I let out a small laugh. “One more thing you should know about us humans.” Bulak looked at me. “Don’t take us too seriously. We like to make jokes about anything and everything.” Bulak said nothing, merely stepped back and got into a stance. “Tough crowd.” I thought, mimicking her stance. I smirked as we resumed sparring.
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By the time we were done, I was breathing heavily. “If what Brokil said about stamina is true then I’ll definitely benefit from building mine up.” Bulak was giving me some last-minute advice as we headed inside. “Since your strength is lesser than most, you shall need to outmaneuver anyone you face, be it through magic or a fighting technique.” I nodded as Bulak pulled open the door. I immediately noticed several flickering orbs floating around the barn. Dexter was sitting, cross-legged, on a table. A book was floating near him, shaking almost violently.
Brokil was practically shouting advice at him. “Concentrate. The spell requires your attention if you wish to hold it still.”
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Dexter shifted slightly as he clenched his eyes shut. “I’m trying.” He growled through teeth. I watched as the book slowly stopped shaking. Suddenly Dexter let out a breath and the shaking resumed violently. “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!” Dexter cried, slamming his fist into the table.
I pulled the door closed behind me as I cautiously watched the scene. “I’m guessing things aren’t going so well?” Brokil and Dexter turned to me.
Dexter shook his head as he rubbed his neck. “About as well as someone can expect when you can’t determine the problem,” Dexter replied angrily.
Brokil let out an exasperated growl as he turned to Dexter. “We know the problem.” He said a little annoyed. “You refuse to take the steps to fix it.”
Dexter let out a sigh and turned to Brokil. “I’ve tried your method, it’s not working in the slightest.” Dexter retorted. “The only thing it’s doing is making me fall asleep.”
Bulak suddenly stepped closer, raising her voice to stop what was about to be a fight. “I believe it is time Dexter returned to his lessons.” Brokil and Dexter turned to her.
Dexter quietly considered as Brokil protested the notion. “We have almost arrived at a breakthrough, his physical training can wait.”
Dexter shook his head as he hopped down from the table and approached Bulak. The flickering lights faded as Dexter spoke. “Let’s get to it,” Dexter said, moving towards the door and ignoring Brokil’s protests. Brokil seemed about to speak again, but Bulak raised her hand, silencing him. I watched as Bulak turned and followed Dexter back outside. I turned to Brokil.
He looked like he wanted to follow them but let out a sigh as he turned to me. “If he does not wish to learn, I may as well return to your lessons.” I nodded as I walked over to the table and Brokil began his lesson.
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I spent five hours inside with Brokil. In that timeframe, I learned to cast Levitate with just a single step. I lifted the third book up and brought it closer. Brokil suddenly spoke when it got close to the other two floating books. “I caution against bringing the spells so close together.”
I moved the books apart in a panic as I turned to him. “Why?” I asked, a little frightened. “Does something bad happen?”
Brokil shook his head as he stepped closer. “No, but it quickly depletes the ambient mana and causes the spells to collapse.” He replied.
I let out a breath as I continued to manipulate the books. “That’ll explain this morning,” I mused, turning to a fourth book.
I tried to cast the spell, but Brokil interrupted. “Perhaps we should attempt to use more than one mana.” He said. I turned towards him. He was binding a stack of books together. He lifted the stack experimentally and nodded. He then motioned for me to cast the spell. I turned towards the stack. “Simply try and apply yourself a bit more. Most mages describe it as adding an extra push to the normal spell. The spell should take over once you have done this.” I nodded. I tried to cast the spell, applying a bit more of ‘myself’ to the gesture. The stack remained inert as I finished casting the spell. I looked down at one of the floating books, to the entry on the spell. “One mana for ten pounds for a minute. Two mana for ten pounds for two minutes or twenty pounds for one minute. Not useful in telling me how to do it. . . . I wonder.”
I turned to Brokil. “What does it feel like to not have enough mana to cast a spell?” I asked.
Brokil considered for a moment. “The usual pull of a spell does not occur,” Brokil replied. “At first, I assumed you had a large amount of mana within you, what with you sustaining so many spells for so long. However, given that you have yet to reach your limit it is safe to assume you are able to cast low-cost spells without having to provide your own mana.” I nodded as I turned back towards the stack of books. “Alright, so I actually haven’t given any of my mana to a spell. . Although given the description of it. . what if you compress the available time frame? Could you lift thirty pounds for twenty seconds? And how far could you go? If the spell can be automatically recast by concentrating on it. . Something to think about. For now, lift the books.” I refocused on the stack. I tried to cast the spell again. I felt it working on the stack and I tried to lift it up. The strip of leather Brokil had used to bind the books suddenly pointed straight up, but the stack remained still. I released the spell and tried again, this time aiming directly at the stack of books. I felt the spell take hold and I tried again. This time the top of the stack rose, but the stack itself remained in place.
I let out a huff of frustration as I released the spell. “It’s not working,” I whined.
Brokil seemed to consider for a moment. “Intriguing. Are you certain you are committing yourself to the incantation?”
I nodded insistently. “I’m pretty sure I am. It just defaults to the single mana point.”
Brokil let out a low hum as he considered my issue. “Most intriguing. Unfortunately, we possess no other method to test the limits of your mana pool. It is unlikely that you possess no mana. Not even the lowliest wizard is without the mana to draw from.”
I shrugged. “Well, it seems like I can’t draw from my mana pool. The spell still casts, but not at the energy I need to lift the stack.”
Brokil let out another low hum as he put his hand to his chin. He stood there for a moment as he considered my dilemma. “The only advice I can provide for the moment is to attempt again.” He suddenly reached up to tap at his nose, thinking deeply. “Although, this may be a unique opportunity for me.”
I looked at him curiously. “Why’s that?” I asked.
Brokil was silent for a moment as he continued to think. Finally, he let out a low sigh. “The duties of a mage extend beyond merely learning new spells. They are the pioneers of new magic. Occasionally their innovations are lost to the ashes of the past.”
I looked at him a little skeptically. “So like lost tech?”
Brokil nodded in agreement. “I may need to consult other sources, but I believe we may possess a more direct method to measure your mana.” He explained “The method was stolen by the elves some generations ago before Gashur even existed, but the Institute recently came across an ancient text describing the enchantment. I have been spending several weeks attempting to recreate the enchantment and I believe it is almost complete. I will need another day or two, but it is better than trying a more powerful spell in hopes that you’ll be able to provide sufficient mana.” I nodded at his reasoning. “For now, I shall teach you how to tap into your stamina pools. If you outsiders have as much stamina as Dexter claims, then it will be imperative to draw from that source.” I nodded as Brokil began flipping through his books. “Okay, a much bigger reason to build up my stamina. . that or find a more efficient way to use mana.” Brokil finally pulled out a book and began flipping through the pages. “This will take time to learn. Do not be discouraged if you cannot immediately perform this technique. There is a limit to how quickly anyone may learn.” I nodded as he set the book down and pointed to an entry. I walked over and began reading the page on stamina. “It shouldn’t be too different from college, except this is a much more apparent result.”
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Brokil had just finished instructing me how to draw from my ‘stamina pool’ when Dexter came trudging back into the barn. “How’d it go?” I asked. Dexter ignored me and made for the loft. I turned to Bulak. “That bad?” I asked.
Bulak rubbed her head. “He has not improved since yesterday.” She replied. “And he appears distracted. He takes another second to react and does not listen to my advice.” I looked up at the loft. I couldn’t see Dexter from where I was, but I could tell he was up there.
I turned back to Bulak. “I’ll try and talk to him,” I told her. “For now, go home and plan for tomorrow.” Bulak nodded reluctantly and left. I set the books that were still floating down on the table and helped Brokil pack up. “I’ll see if I can’t convince him to be more receptive to your methods.”
Brokil nodded as he closed his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. “I shall consult some books to see if any of our old masters have encountered his instability. They may have created a solution already.” Brokil said, glancing up at the loft. I nodded as Brokil turned to leave. I looked up at the loft again as I prepared myself. “Hopefully he’s reasonably cooled down. . . and willing to talk.” I thought as I made my way towards the ladder. I stood up as I reached the top and looked around. I saw Dexter sitting, legs dangling out the loft door overlooking the city. He was tapping out a rhythm on his knee. He seemed deep in thought as he looked out over Snakhagr. I walked over to him and sat down, legs joining his over the edge. I sat there for a minute as I let him get used to my presence. Dark clouds sat on the horizon, blocking the sun.
I eventually turned to Dexter. “Ready to talk?” I asked him.
Dexter stopped tapping and let out a low sigh. “I suppose so.” He replied after a minute.
I sat there and considered my next question. “Are you feeling okay?” I finally asked.
Dexter sat in silence as he considered the question. “I don’t know.” He replied. “On the one hand I’m anxious. . and excited. . about this whole title mission. On the other hand, I want to just. . run out. . and attack Adympia right now.” He placed his palm on his forehead. “And through this whole thing, I can’t get Shel out of my mind. . . I keep thinking of ways I could have saved her, of things I could have done differently.”
I placed my hand on his leg. He faltered in his ramblings. “It’s okay,” I told him. “This is something a lot of people go through when they’ve lost someone. Just know that you’re not alone.” I moved my hand to his shoulder. “I’m here for you. . whenever you need me.” Dexter sat there for a minute.
He slowly wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. “Thank you.” He said. “I really appreciate that.” I sat there as I comforted him and we watched the city together.
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Dexter
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After I sat with Amelia for a bit I decided it was time to wash off. I had sweated, and I was sore from the two days of combat training. I was kind of curious if the spring that supplied the bathhouse had any natural minerals that would help with the soreness. “Probably not. Minerals in high concentrations could potentially kill local flora. And There didn’t seem to be a stretch of barren ground behind the bathhouse. Plus, the water didn’t feel different from normal spring water. . Fair enough.” I gathered a change of clothes and headed for the bathhouse. As I walked I saw the orcs disassembling various burnt buildings, ripping the useless timber from the building and piling it to load it into a cart later. A few orcs paused and waved at me as I passed. “They’re a lot friendlier now. Guess that’s because of the whole battle thing. That or w-I’m in the ‘Northern District’. . Really need to find a map, find out the full layout of the city. And need a scale of how much of Adympia needs to be raided. Definitely start with that Nione place, make that Almar guy pay for his part.” I eventually arrived at the bathhouse and entered, stripping off my used clothing in the changing hall. It was like any locker room you’d find at a pool, though the cubby’s lining the room had more of honor rule sort of thing going, no locks. I pulled off my shirt and jeans and folded them neatly. I could practically feel the grime that was building up on them. “Definitely need to start washing used clothes. There were only so many shirts packed for the dorm.” I placed my belongings in an open cubby hole, grabbed a towel, and headed for the bath. “Feels kind of like leather.”
When I entered I became acutely aware of a large number of orcs occupying the bath. As opposed to three or four orcs in the bath there had to be several dozen orcs, packed into the pool or lounging on the outside. I noticed a few orcs lying face down on tables around the bath. Some of the entertainment was tending to them, massaging their backs as they scrubbed oil onto them. “Guess that’s from the battle. A lot of orcs would need to wash off the dirt and blood from the fighting.” I moved to a more secluded area of the bath and lowered myself into the water. The warm water soothed my aching muscles as I relaxed in the bath. I must have sat there for ten minutes before I felt an orc sink into the water next to me. I turned to him. His shoulders barely rose out of the water. The usual ponytail he likely sported was untied and his dark hair fell partway down his neck. One of his tusks was missing and allowed the left side of his mouth to close. I decided it looked peculiar, it gave him a range of expressions I couldn’t see happening with the other orcs. “You must be Dexter the outsider.” He suddenly said.
I hesitated for a moment then nodded. “You have me at a disadvantage then,” I replied. “You must know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
The orc nodded as he looked around the bathhouse. “I do not expect you to know me.” He said. “I am nothing more than a common warrior, a mere foot soldier. Nothing as impressive or powerful as you.”
I let out a small laugh at the notion. “Trust me, I’m not as strong as you think I am.” I rubbed my arm where one of Bulak’s strikes had hit me. “I know that from experience.”
The orc turned to me. His green eyes gazed at me questioningly. “Surely you do not expect me to believe you are a common peasant? No, you must be a soldier of your own, what with the way you dispatched those elves. You must have received years of training if you were able to vanquish so many.”
I laughed out loud as I replied. “Not even close,” I told him. “At most I had a few lessons on basic self-defense and a few family lessons at the firing range, but nothing as extensive or as rigorous as you guys probably go through. Hell, I definitely wouldn’t make it as a soldier in my own country. Those guys are beasts all on their own”
The orc continued to stare as he listened to me speak. “So, you have no formal combat training?” He asked.
I shook my head. “Not before the actual battle,” I replied. “Bulak has been training me for an upcoming rite of passage. Beyond that, I wasn’t trained when I fought the elves.”
The orc again considered my words. “You outsiders must have great natural instincts if you were able to hold off so many elves.” He reasoned.
I shook my head again. “I don’t think that’s what happened that morning. I definitely won’t be able to that again, at least not anytime soon.” I reasoned.
The orc looked at me, confused. “Then what gave you the ability to fight so many elves?” He asked.
I considered for a moment then shrugged. “I’m not completely sure. Honestly, I’m a little surprised I just survived that battle. Thinking back, there are at least a dozen places where I should have kicked the bucket.” The orc gave me a skeptical look. I thought about the events for another moment before coming up with a hypothesis. “Though if I had to guess, back home, we humans have a saying. It’s not about the dog in the fight, it’s about the fight in the dog.”
The orc’s expression changed to one of confusion. “Dog?” He asked. I turned to him, confused at his own confusion. “The term ‘dog’ is a bit more modern than they are. They might have another word for it.”
I cast my mind about for another word as I let out a hum. “A canine,” I explained. “A hound if you will. If you have those, those are other names for them.”
The orc’s expression suddenly changed to understanding as he nodded. “We have such creatures.” He confirmed. “We use them for training our young how to track prey. . But what does that have to do with your fighting skills?”
I let out another laugh “You kind of missed the point there., I explained. “The point is that, while I wasn’t the best-trained soldier on that battlefield, I did have a tremendous amount of motivation to fight.” The orc turned away as he seemed to think. I continued as I justified my statement. “I know most, if not all, of your warriors had the motivation to fight, but the motivation going through my mind was the kind where you just say ‘fuck it’ to your own survival and focus on killing the opposition.” I continued.
The orc’s expression turned to confusion again. “Fuck it?” He asked. I was again confused at his confusion. I quickly realized why he was asking.”They probably have a different word for that too. What was it that Shurkul used?”
I gestured as I explained. “I think you use the word ‘sard’?” I asked him. He thought for a second then nodded. I gestured dismissively as I continued. “Anyway, I was to the point where I was more focused on hurting the elves than trying to stay alive. To the point where I was just punching their faceplates for a few fights. I was punching so hard I ended up breaking my hand.” I finished, raising my hand up out of the water to show him.
The orc tilted his head he glanced at my hand. “Is it already healed?” He asked.
I nodded as I lowered my hand into the pool again. “Garahk ended up fixing it a bit later. I can’t exactly operate at full capacity when parts of my body are damaged.”
He let out an understanding grunt and nodded in agreement. “Understandable.” He affirmed. He turned back to the pool as he continued. “I also heard of your fighting technique. I saw a few aftermaths too. I am shocked to think that so many elves were equipped with such vulnerable metal. You would think Almar would have better resources to spare.”
I held up a hand and interrupted him as I realized he still hadn’t told me his name. “Regardless, that whole morning just proves a single soldier can turn the tides of battle,” I explained quickly, returning to my original point. I stared at his face as I followed up the idea with a question. “So, what’s your name, soldier?” I asked. The orc seemed taken aback by my question and just sat there for a moment.
He finally placed a hand on his chest as he responded. “I am Almthu.” He explained. “Almthu Bartok”
I nodded and held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Almthu.” Almthu looked at my hand then took it and shook. I let go as I continued to my next line of questioning. “So, what brings you over to me?” I asked. “Looking for my story on the battle?”
Almthu smirked as I asked. “You are tactical.” He remarked. “I suppose that aided you in surviving the battle though.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. Almthu hesitated again as he too waited for me to break the silence. He finally relented and asked. “So, what is your story on the battle.”
I smirked as I rubbed my face and considered what to tell him. “Where should I start?” I asked.
“How about from the beginning.” A new voice interjected. Almthu and I turned to the source. A new orc was walking over. He sat on the edge of the bath on the opposite side of Almthu, letting his legs dangle into the water. “It would be best if you start from the beginning.” He said again. I turned to Almthu.
He mused on the idea then nodded. “It is as good a place as any.” He remarked.
I turned back to the other orc. “Alright, from the beginning,” I confirmed. I began my story from when I first ran down to the gate. I went through various events and tried my best to describe them. As I talked more orcs joined my group and began listening intently. Occasionally one of them would ask a question and I’d try to answer it. Eventually, a group of about a dozen bathers and a few of the entertainers were crowded around me. The questions died down when I got to . . Shel . . I slowly described finding Shel. . the elf. . his actions. . I tried to hold back tears again. I didn’t sob as I did that morning, but the tears flowed freely from my face as I recounted what had happened in that alleyway. I suddenly stopped talking as a lump in my throat threatened to break my voice. I sat there for a minute as I placed my hand over my mouth and let the emotions wash over me. The orcs sat in silence as I quietly grieved. I guess even they knew what grief was like. I suddenly felt a pressure on my shoulder and I looked up. One of the orcs had placed her hand on me. I recognized her from before.
Instead of the rage and disgust, her green eyes now screamed empathy and understanding. “It’s okay.” She said softly. “Let it out.” I nodded as I let out a long sigh and collected myself. Eventually, I took in a breath, stealing my nerves, and continued the story. They became particularly interested as I described my berserk rampage against the elves. They winced as I described every injury I sustained during the conflict. As I spoke I realized how much the battle had changed me. Before, I would have been appalled by the gruesome methods I’d used to kill the elves. . Now I looked on those memories as a sort of catharsis, feeling a sense of satisfaction with every blow I dealt. The orcs continued to listen with rapt attention as I described the events leading up to and immediately after the pulse. The orcs interjected with their own experiences following the pulse.
“I was confused when the elves started running.” One said. “I turned around to see if Elder Mother Garahk had unleashed some new spell, but all I saw was Rilug’s ugly mug.” The crowd laughed.
“Aw, sard you, Durzum.” Another piped up. “You are just happy you did not need to break formation.”
“Well, I know who is happy.” A third said. “Ghazat over there was almost on the wrong end of the blade when that pulse ripped through the city. Elf bastard froze there, sword raised, I almost thought he wanted to savor the kill. Then he dropped his sword, hilt first right on Ghazat’s bobbles, and bolted for it.” The surrounding orcs simultaneously laughed and winced as one orc chuckled to himself. I smiled as the orcs started sharing their own stories of the battle. I listened intently as I heard each of their tales, every one a different perspective on the fight. Each of them offered their own struggle, a goal, a reason to fight. They began discussing amongst themselves about the events of the battle. I sat back into the water as I thought through the battle once more. One thought stuck out in my mind as I considered the wins and losses of that morning.
I turned to Almthu as I asked him a question.”Did we end up getting the cannons?”
He glanced around at the crowd and shrugged. “I am unsure.” He replied. “They might have. I recommend you ask Agrob. He handles the captured weapons. If anyone possesses them, it would be Agrob.” I nodded, thinking back to what Dubak had told me about him. “Damn. That’s unfortunate. I guess I’ll have to deal with him at some point. It’ll be the only way for me to take a look at those cannons.”
I scratched my head as I turned my attention to the commander that was captured. “What about their commander? Where did they stick him?”
Almthu gestured towards the door as he replied. “He was placed in White-Rock Prison. Kagan personally escorted him there after he captured him.
I nodded as I turned back to the pool. “Good. He might eventually serve a use. I’m sure he must know something about the cannons and men they have.”
Suddenly, one of the orcs tapped my shoulder and I turned to him. “I heard a rumor that you were devising a means of escape. Are you still formulating such an attempt?”
I took a moment to consider then shook my head. “To be honest. . I haven’t given escape a single thought since that morning. It’s been nothing but revenge and hatred for Adympia.”
The orc chuckled. “Then you are truly one of us.” Everyone turned to him. I felt the tension rise as they stared at him, unhappy with his declaration. He laughed nervously as he explained his reasoning.”That is to say, we find your enthusiasm against the elves to be envigorating. The city has a score to settle against that bastard of a baron.” He gestured about the bathhouse as he shrugged. “Although we have no hope of reaching such satisfaction, I look forward to seeing you sporting a champion’s markings.” I glanced around at the other orcs. They weren’t as tense as before, but they still weren’t completely relaxed either.
I turned to the orc as I asked a question to distract them. “What’s stopping you from attacking the city?” The orcs turned to me, their adversity to one of their own forgotten. I swallowed nervously as I explained my reasoning. “If you all hate the guy so much, why don’t you raid the city, kill him, and be done with it?”
The orcs around me shook their collective heads. “Such an assault is impossible.” One orc replied. “Nione is well defended and Almar will demand aid at the first sign of danger. If we fail he will report the assault to the king and bring the entire country down on top of Gashur. An assault on Nione will be portrayed as an assault on Adympia. Gashur has no hope of defeating Adympia.” I thought about his words for a minute. I stroked my chin as I considered my options. “Just like Dubak said. The attack is not an option, at least not for the moment. Still, I’m not one to just let the likes of Almar get away with something like this. The only way they ever learn is by someone giving them a hard bitchslap. Resources are the big issue though. If they’re confident in the power disparity then it’s likely going to be a constant in the future. I could help the tech they have access to, but there’s probably an upper limit to the raw resources they access to. There’s also a very hard limit to how much I can help with. I know the gas engine in my car, but I don’t know how to make other types of engines. Plus, there’s still the fact that the orcs don’t have any burnable oil to speak of. So my prospects of creating gas engines are pretty dire, at least for the moment. Scratch that, I don’t even know how to find oil, let alone mine it and refine it. The Metallurgy and Materials book might help, but there’s probably a limit for that as well. Gashur definitely isn’t going to change its position anytime soon. At least not without some outside hel-” I paused as an idea suddenly sprang into my mind.
I scratched my chin as I carefully weighed the circumstances. “I . . might actually . . have a plan for that,” I replied thoughtfully.