Tim waved the dark thought off and smiled. “Sorry, some of this stuff’s still filtering in, what with the poison and all.”

“Let me grow something. I could—”

“No. I mean, you can grow stuff.”

Chris made a face like Tim gave him a wet Willy in his nose. “I can’t grow anything up here. These seeds were a rip off. My horticulture level isn’t high enough to make something useable.”

“Would you let me talk? We’re on our way to the primo spot in this city. You’ll find good land there.”

Chris held his suspicions in one hand while his other painted a glowing sign through his middle finger.

“We didn’t exactly have time to discuss this before. Let me give context.” Tim paused to navigate a rotten patch in the vine wide enough to fall through. Purple and black spots, some as big as his hand outstretched, covered the vine from the black rim around the central hole to spots up to the edge. If his suspicions about Chris’s end game were worst case scenario, he had a mind to guide Chris into that hole.

Tim caught Chris’s hand, felt that familiar brother’s touch, and directed him to follow the narrow strip of green winding about the edge.

Someone would have to break him before he would give up on his brother. He chose best case until proven otherwise. Boy better watch out for this bite if they try otherwise.

Tim restrained that passion into his aura well and resumed the show. “Back at the rings,” he said maybe too casually, “I absorbed some of the troll’s remnant. I recently learned his name to be Ajin. Follow me now.”

Oh, he was. Game on.

Even before becoming a sorcerer, Chris had a keen eye for mystery and an insatiable drive to come out on top in any scenario. Now, he seemed to employ a negotiation skill or maybe a spell, something that boosted his essence to hide tells. Tim still read it. That was the other reason why he told him now. His pull brought Chris close enough to see his face, and his hands. The way Tim surprised Chris with the troll part, he’d tried to hide his tell, but Tim caught the movement in his thumb. When they were kids playing cards, Chris teased Tim about his horrible poker face. Tim never told Chris that he knew his.

That he flinched so at the mere mention of the troll pierced Tim’s heart. He made a show about casting another Danger Sense ping ahead, directed toward their path to the next branch. In the casting he hoped to have hidden his tell that he knew—maybe not all the details of how, and not enough to call Chris out to his face, but enough to hurdle into this new life. One where Chris has ties to the artisans and the Troll mentioned in Aeu’s Book of Spells and Lank’s ledger.

His suspicions found a home from experiencing Chris’s rocky twenties. This sounded like a lofty get-rich scheme on another level he didn’t think Chris was capable of.

Tim hated that his brother was hiding this secret connection with the trolls. He had a hunch there was a payoff Chris couldn’t refuse, and, best case scenario, he was afraid to mention it because he’d have to admit how much trouble he was in. Heaven forbid he ask for help from his older brother.

For now, he’d resort to facts he could share that benefited both of them, all while not tipping his hand about Chris’s likely shady partners. He didn’t think Chris would kill for even the power to change worlds. Locking Tim and anyone else that gets in his way into some hole while he takes the jewel? Yeah. He could definitely see that.

The reverse was likely true, if pressed. I am a priest after all.

“While we were in the store, my mind or spirit, whatever, went back. I won’t say reality because this is real, but back to the tunnels. Something split our forces. A stranger led me through the sewer on my last one. Jil and Khempal are also sick with Ajin’s poisoned aura. My Cleanse and Healing skill tree are a major reason I’m still fighting. I suspect some of the Oil and Water mage and my Ranger defensiveness is also playing a part. Either way they’re out of it and fading fast.”

“I think there’s something…” Tim ran his hand through his hair, distracted by its longer length than Earth-norm. It kind of worked, despite the crustiness of residue from the smog. “I think there’s something we have to break, or like a key and a hole to unlock this spell. Call it my Magic Hunt has a hunch that my Oil and Water path is pointing me to solve.”

Tim might be laying the diversion of excitement on a little thick, and Chris scrutinized it through his hard gaze. “Here for adventure, right?” Tim waved him on, turning from his brother’s examination. “This way.”

He trailed a hand to guide Chris past an uprooted vine. Tim couldn’t see its end through the smog. Only Danger Sense alerted him not to put any weight on it. The foundation of the vine system was still strong.

He passed a vine leading down toward a shanty town and its minimal security. The next passage branch was the one he wanted. Something screeched out of the thick smog. Way too close. Snapping out of his distant view, Tim drew his Farar axe and cast Battleground. A big bird with bright red feathers swept in with a golden beak on point. Tim swung his bracer. Peeled through the beak tip and rammed up.

The aura force cracked the beak from its snout. It spread its wings, providing hints at the black and white eye design as the hundred-pound predator tackled Tim. Blood and gooey nasty leaked from the bird’s snout cavity. Tim wrestled the beak from the sloppy wet feathers. A talon sliced up his vest. Tim caught it with his leg in a sweep to pin it to the vine. He spun the beak and stabbed the point into the bird’s neck. It squawked and snapped its neutered maw. Tim put it out of its misery with a swipe of his axe.

Chris showed up, finally. He withdrew an ozdud bud, cradling the small vegetable like a newborn.

Tim salivated at the egg-shaped, healthy white morsel. His network of active spells drained him like the flu when his MP was below a third. He was near to that line and in need of a fill-up. “Thank you.”

Tim brushed his hand clean, took the bud and bit into its pepper crunch flesh. The juicy kick made Tim moan with delight.

“I guess you were right about growing here. I worked as quickly as possible.”

Tim took his first bite. “Sorry to leave you alone on that one. You handled it pretty quickly though.”

Tim breathed in the new spring of warm power. “No apologies necessary. Keep up with the ozdud. It’s delicious.”

“I had to quick burn to make that one. Unfortunately, I too have limited spells here. My mana regen is molasses.” Chris squat and reached in to pull the beak free. Its exit slurped and dribbled a new stream of pink red blood onto the vine. “You got room for this? I’ll store the rest in my bag for later.”

The spending spree had rearranged his pouch space, and he had room. He accepted the item - cyreuk beak - and took another big bite from his bud while Chris fit the bird’s head in the bag. Tim searched Aeu’s Book of Spells for Cyreuk while Chris handled the pyterodactyle-looking troll bird.

His keyword search hit within the chapter on this city. A picture of a bangle clipped at the bird’s ankles showed a prism enchantment like a spiked black pyramid with an onion layered eye. Tim relayed the bonus to claw damage and checked the nearly ruined vest with the claw stripe down to the threads.

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“That was a close one,” Chris said, and stuffed the talons into the bag.

Tim pressed on the thin fabric and his vulnerable skin so close beneath. “My thoughts were spread thin. My spells are…” his head swam a bit. He forced his focus back to his train of thought. “Draining me. I was reading the Danger ping far ahead. I shouldn’t stretch it that far, especially while we’re on the bridge.”

He took another bite and washed away his burden to do anything but eat, regen and get ready for the next task.

The bird shrank inside and Chris slung the bag back over his shoulder as though it were a pillow sheet. Item well purchased. Bagging cyreuks on the way to the shaman’s old hideout wasn’t the primary intention for buying it, but it looked that way to Chris, and that was all that mattered. Well, that and that he not tear it with how rough he was shoving talon bearing prey inside.

Tim let his MP reach full before opening up his spell system to the pre-regen levels. The healing eased away the nausea and let him focus again. He cast a Danger Ping in an equidistant perimeter in case any more threats tried taking advantage while he was searching ahead. No birds matched the threat level as a cyreuk. A flock of hopiners were collecting reserves as they gathered smog nutrients from a thermal. He’d have to move quickly to the canopy coverage of the next passage.

As they reached closer to this offramp, Tim’s sense uncovered a magical charge tied to a land mine. If it went off, the partially severed vine underneath would break away and this whole section would plummet into the chasm. If it didn’t, they’d gain a valuable item. One that furthered his plans too well to sacrifice. “This way.”

“Did you laugh before saying that? I have a feeling this isn’t gonna end well.”

Tim snorted. “Shush, I’m busy.”

Chris rolled his eyes and closed a seed in his hand. Smokey light tendrils emanated from his clenched knuckles.

Tim put aside a question of how much Chris might suspect his knowledge of the trolls. For now, he hoped he kept the secret tightly enough. Besides, if this bomb went off they both died, so he forced those thoughts into a pocket for easy retrieval. He cast Foraging and Magic Hunt wrapped inside a local windstorm of Danger Sense. Tim’s three skills worked together as professionals with enough focus and skill to interweave efforts to maximum efficiency. Once warmed up and gliding at optimal capacity, Tim went Galactic Caterprise. The wha-wha intro to one of his favorite Beastie Boys songs played stereo sound as he, the white boy robot prowled around the trap. Aura pumped out with the deep beats, flowing out over the activation sensors, muting them long enough to get his Magic Hunt tendrils into the trigger and wrapped it to the base.

Aura Safety Locked.

Inter-galactic cat-a-ter-ee. C-mana fueled a precision carving of Peel around the charge box. Tim exhaled once it was clear of the final angle. A swimming in nauseous gas sensation forced Tim to ease the throttle of his powers way back.

“You okay?” Chris asked. He floated in and out of defined details and splotchy masses of aura essence and his brother’s variety of aged faces slipped on and transitioned to another.

Tim closed his eyes and threaded a precarious breath through organs on fire and his stomach ready to hit the discharge.

Ajin’s poison was spreading. Tim had plenty more work to do to gain this mine. While not critical to their mission, he was getting close with the idea. More than that, he revolted against the threat to his life. Sweat dripped from his brow. His hand tingled. His forehead escaped the heat, but fell into clammy cold and a disorienting popping deeper in, where his brain or neurons, whatever was going on in there, popped and fizzed.

Danger Sense, in its last wave of strength, identified a worm of concentrated effort wiggling its way into Tim’s memory bank.

Chris’s face molded to his early teens. His shape added the old spiked hair and his bleach-attacked Tool shirt. “How about we call it quits on this? Let’s get you to a safe place so you can rest?”

Chris grabbed Tim’s arm and applied force to help him stand.

Tim had a thought. Earlier. Something important. Not about the mine… he struggled as Chris assisted each delicate step away from the mine. Away from the path to the Ajin hideout, Dosek Montryl.

Tim planted a heavy foot. The kind practiced in creating snowboard edges and the ability to stop against the steepest decline. “No. We go this way.”

A fleeting resistance eased pressure from the back of Tim’s head. He ran a hand through his hair, but couldn’t catch it. It wasn’t near Chris’s hands. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the poison.

“You’re not well,” Chris said. His face returned to the present, with sorcerer veins pulsing power from his swirling eyes to his brain and on down. His sympathy for Tim bled through in his gaze. He just wanted what was best for his brother. Didn’t he see the danger in resistance?

“You’re not listening.”

Peeling the line to the mine required more precision and control to draw as close to the line as possible, and after that he’d have to tackle the maze of wires in the mine. The effort he took off of Cleanse and his other healing abilities had opened a door to attack from Ajin’s poison. Maybe Cleanse wasn’t the best ability for now. He didn’t have the antidote, and while it had helped with his nausea, it was draining to the point that his Peel nearly wiped him out a third of the way through the job.

Tim didn’t have the key yet to set himself free from this poison.

Maybe I don’t need a key, but a prison of my own.

Aura Ward, he thought.

Tim sent feelers into the prickly areas of interaction between Danger Sense and the foreign invader in his bloodstream. Several directions of interference offered opportunity to hunt. Tim struck the one deepest in his brain. Aura Ward created a tiny balloon from the pinprick of delivery, growing as Tim fed it with his aura and MP. Spikes of sharp pain stabbed the inside. Poison sentries were captured in his spell. And they were not happy.

Tim smiled and pushed on, enlarging the balloon to collect more and more of these nuisances. The more he Warded the less he spent on healing. While collecting his strength, Chris planted a pea pod over the dirt roughed up by Tim unearthing the mine charge. Leftover aura in the soil interacted with Chris’s seeds to sprout quickly. Within five glorious minutes of rest, the okapa plant unfolded like a high five made out of blue pickles. Rigid bumps amassed like cancer across its dimpled digits.

“Tada!” Chris squeed. His joy the kind kids exhibit after tossing their last popper, with a firework factory’s charred husk behind them, still smokin’.

“Best I’m thinking,” Tim said, stalling as he examined the foreign plant. “If this doesn’t kill me, is I gain an Eldrich-style spirit animal to haunt me for all eternity? Is that the deal here?”

Mischief made a playground of Chris’s face. “You’re the one who gave me the seed. It has nutrition and will help you with your Warding.”

How’d he know he was Warding the poison? “You…”

“There’s similarities in your essence reading and my wood sorcerer priest abilities allowing me to identify proportions of magic, aura and physical strength spent. I was going to suggest Warding, if you could, or Aura Burn. I think I would have noticed the latter. Is it working?”

Tim exhaled through the nausea. “I am gaining control over the poison in my head. His sentries have spread to the extremities.”

Chris pulled the purple pickle out of the ground. A six-inch root snapped off its source. Chris cursed and broke the rest of the root off the bottom of the pickle. “I’ll keep this for my spells. It would just hurt your stomach if you tried to digest it.”

Tim considered the item in Chris’s outstretched palm. Pretend you’re shopping in a Korean supermarket and this is a trusted vegetable. Tim had ordered his first meal in South Korea based on price and exhaustion. In the end, he’d gained many favorite new foods from their blend of this world’s goods. Now he had a Troll offering baked by his brother’s magic. No big deal. The price, however… What if Chris cooked up a Trojan Horse? Tim sent Danger Sense into the plant’s flesh. Power to rejuvenate emanated from within. Chris’s essence shed his truthful desire to help. A sliver of something else hid in the narrow shadows within his frame.

“Your Spirit Memory helped me make this one,” Chris added, guarding his offense close to the surface.

Tim had to be careful, or Chris would catch his suspicions.

A sharp pain gripped by a monster’s hand squeezed Tim’s stomach. He curled in and moaned. Pricks of unseen power burned and stabbed his intestines. Tim tried opening a Ward. They surrounded and eradicated the spell. He summoned a majority of his MP and cast three more, spread out across his abdomen. One by one, the Wards fell to overwhelming poison sentries. A deep spike drove into his cranium, forcing an eye shut and blinding the other in white spots.

“Retreat,” a voice told himself.

Poison pangs broke him to the point he accepted Chris’s gift. He might have been able to stop him, but couldn’t pay the price of exposing his suspicion this soon. His MP regen burned out, singing a long stretch inside his forehead. Tim winced. His MP fell into the red. His HP dropped quickly after. Clearly, he needed help. Crap.

He opened up for the morsel, said a prayer and crunched through to the milky juice within.

By the time Spirit Memory revealed his brother’s deception in the plant, the hook was already delivered.

Not in the pickle, but the message Chris slipped the shop owner.

Chris’s smile and comment when he first met the troll: “Any seeds for a Tier 2?”

Chris remembered it as code for “He’s ingested the poison and two others on the other side.”