“Well done, servant White Fire,” Pilk said over a pot of boiling oatmeal.
Tim startled awake, surprised to be sitting up and in a kitchen hovering over a skyline of night clouds black with remnants of the contents incinerated below.
Pilk sprinkled pink pixels over the pot while he carried it to their little table. A hint of sweet sugar wafted from the splash that sent a perfect mushroom cloud of glowing purple oatmeal a foot high. A precise tap from Pilk’s finger atop the roof halted the growth and pulled the pin, sucking it back down into the pot to stir again.
Tim glanced down and checked if Dryfu or anyone had come with him. Only Indi, tucked comfortably in his front pocket. But manly like too. Well-earned rest for him, but no more clue to where they were or—
“The warlords have fled,” Pilk said. “You did well. Six died in the fight, but an additional seventy of theirs fell.”
He licked his fingers and a flash of blue and purple swirled aura in his eyes. His smile spoke of Heaven in the mirror. He whistled a tune and swayed as he carried the prize toward their smooth and well cared for circular wooden table. A white apron was folded in the middle surrounded by three bowls.
“Who were the six?” Tim asked.
“You didn’t know them. Villagers forced into slavery by the cartel. Invaluable, yet not without value to you still if you use Spirit Memory when you return. Their loss will mean training others if you want to keep these farms and outpost.”
“Okay. So, what are we doing here? Breakfast? And a third is coming?”
“Is that how you say hello?” Pilk scoffed then returned to swaying and set the oatmeal down with a chef’s confidence.
“I’m sorry. Feeling a bit lost and unsure if you’re real or my imagination.”
A round glass window overlooked the fields now smothered in living fire, like a dragon exhaling black smoke and terror across a former life. The villagers had fought magic with magic, spewing a special brew of water from wagons at pivotal locations northeast of the river and on the south side two shot towering blasts into the heart of the inferno.
“Where’s Feranand?” Tim asked.
“Feranand isn’t the one you need worry about.” His tone didn’t disagree with the accusation, but held firm on a greater threat.
“That’s helpful, somewhat. Whom should I fear then, aside from the Lord, obvs?”
“Me and this spoon if you don’t have a seat and eat this while it’s good n’ warm.”
The sweet scent of strawberry and sugar filled Tim’s breath with a big howdaya do. Not too bad, thanks for asking. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.
Tim took a seat, scooting the embroidered wooden chair and sensed aura relief in the cushion. Pain fled from his tailbone to his buttocks, evaporating into comfort and ease. Okay, Tim thought and smiled. Glittering fire drew his attention to the fields while Pilk poured a healthy portion into his bowl. “How…” the oatmeal poured out without depleting from the center. The vortex sucked Tim in for a flash, then he snapped out at the slap of Pilk’s spoon on the rim.
“There ya go lad. Eat up. Like I said, you have work to do.”
The words eclipsed the replenishment to his guts provided by the almost too hot oatmeal. It coated his bones and patched holes in his aura and mana channels. Memories sparked of tearing those channels in the other firefight he didn’t expect. The one that set the farms on fire.
“They came from the northwest,” Tim said and took another bite. Memories of his dad sitting at their poor little kitchen table and enjoying a better meal than most because he was his dad and they loved each other. Pilk had a similar, carry-me-lightly attitude that made Tim feel at home. He had space there to expose his fears and failures.
“Am I still down there?” Tim asked, his perspective clearing enough to think they were on another high pedestal overlooking the human world from the safety of a spiritual plane. “Or am I up here?”
“Doesn’t the oatmeal tell you where you are?”
“Do you know what a direct answer could do for our relationship?” Tim asked with a sly smile.
“Now where’s the fun in staying on a level field?”
“That right there’s what I’m taking about ya kooky old man.” He rested his spoon and sank into his chair. The oatmeal was only part of the potion taking him down to Chinatown. A cacophony of pleasures rippled around his head, spreading all the way to his toes.
Pilk smiled in partial embarrassment but more so with love and gestured to Tim as though it were as obvious as his mopey eyes. “His grace to fit the need.”
“Thank you,” he said, including it in prayer. He cast Healing on his burns and all the aching smothered under its cool, numbing touch. “Did you see anything of value from your perch?”
Pilk shrugged, pointed at the fields aflame. “Not much more than what they told you. Warlords joined forces to kick Fernand while he was down. Sent to torch his fields while you had him on the run. Your friends combined with the Hot Pepper Crew as you called them, put up a solid defense to keep the damage to the outer edges of town. You might keep this outpost yet; and I sure hope you do.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll figure some out on your own. Don’t worry. Keep your eye out. In the morning, you’ll see your reward for freeing them from cartel slavery.
They can clean up while we talk, then in the morning you can give Dar Evan and his prince the Lord’s message.”
Pilk stood, distracted by a foreign need he must obey to a cupboard and a mug, a pitcher from an ice box and the mesmerizing caloosh of liquid filling his cup. Once filled, he handed it to Tim’s stretched fingers. It felt strange to grip the cool polished wood of his mug. Aura regen in his fingers woke with vibrant energy, drawing from the mug’s enchantment to send aura strength through Tim’s arm and into his chest. The drink tapped the cherry on top and put a spin through him straight to the tip of his head as if he were a Hershey’s kiss. “If this is what priests do for a good time, I’m all about it. We need to bring S’Trace and Hur next time.”
Pilk sighed and sat up smiling as he prepared to deliver a somber message. “Dar is going to offer you an alliance in return for a secret. I want you to tell him…”
Tim woke to a wet snout and Tonda’s sniffing kisses. The memory of his mission from Pilk firm on his conscience to perform. He rubbed behind Tonda’s ears. “Good morning, girl.”
Surprisingly, his head felt easy, like the rest of his body, at ease with the ability to move. Not at all as if he’d been up all night fighting magical beings and terrorist pyros. Not at all…
“Do I sense mental activity from this direction?” Dryfu asked as he flew in through an open air window formed in the concrete corner to this second floor shanty. He brought a basket with a black case inside.
Tim lifted the prize from the center. It had a gold clasp curled up so he could open it with his thumb. A spiked orb floated on the pinprick legs of blue into violet points issuing from the glowing center.
“For bravery in battle and rescuing innocents from death and slavery, this familiar evolution gem is awarded to fit in a slot in your bracer.” Dryfu announced as he set the basket down and settled into parade rest, or something like that for stykillers. He spoke at ease and yet formally, with honor. Not condescending.
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“Thank you,” Tim said and bent his arm to accept the floating orb. It entered a slot next to the crafting slot. That left one more for enchantments.
Evo Gem - Familiars gain evolution enhancement of +1 Tier while within range and gem activated.
Cost: Each evolution requires full AF to cast. One cast per sleep cycle.
Timeline: 30 minutes or until HP expires.
Bonuses: Form evolves into higher class. Damage while evolved is restored overnight for next cast.
Individual evolutions and costs:
Dryfu: Stykiller Guide Evolves into Storm Assassin. Aura transformation into thunder and lightning, to start, with potential level gains to stronger attacks such as Hurricane and Raining Sulfur. Speed +4, Defense +2, +120 HP, +45 MP.
Cost: 90 MP
Indi J: Treasure Hunter evolves into Man of Mystery. Aura shadows for +6 Evasion and mini-Aura pistol enhancement with +22 Attack and 2 chamber barrel.
Cost: 110 MP
Tonda: Huntress evolves into Back Breaker. Cunning gains +2, Solo Hunter +2, Stamina +2, Pack Attack gains +3 damage
Key bonus: Jump peak gains 20% height and drives down with enhanced Snipe Sight and +25 Spike Attack.
Cost: 120 MP
Murphy: Evolves second Aura Generator and Bakery Delicacies bonus of +40% enhancement to aura potions and flavor +200%. Expiration date extended by 50% minimum.
Cost: 150 MP
Tim read these over on his way to Dar Evn. He sent his Danger Ping over the other side of the river. It pinged back with Dar Evn’s essence showing in the shot-up house where the Kraken had fallen. Tim’s Healing Bridge had helped the warrior beast escape the partial melting it endured from the Molotov cocktails thrown nearby.
Gregor was inside Dar’s shanty. The Krow Commander and the 1st Seat of the Principality of Mevelius busily compared maps and parchments so hastily written Tim couldn’t make heads or tails beyond inventory and war items.
Dar Evn’s boots and light armor remained on, but his helmet and plated armor were hung on the wall by his bed. He hunched over the table and moved gingerly whenever his torso was involved. A cloth wrapping tied around his ribs and left shoulder to keep him partially immobilized, but he still had strain in his eyes. Relief found a way through as his brown eyed gaze landed on Tim. Then a smile and he stood.
Tim tried stopping him from the effort, but the man brushed the concern aside with a snort and a grunt.
“I can stand.” Dar Evn had a good six inches on Tim and the wingspan of a power forward for the Cavs. His handsome features and muscular frame could distract ladies by the baker’s dozen, but his calculating, perhaps musing persona drove his concerns far from physical appearance. He held a greater weight than caring for such trivialities. “If you hadn’t come, none of my men would have survived.”
“Pilk showed me a vision,” Tim said, embracing the man with a solid forearm shake. His wince went by without Dar Evn embarrassing him.
Instead, the man seemed genuinely pleased. “A Ranger, Priest, and Aura Mage. Well met, Leifman. I’m excited to get started while Feranand’s on the run.”
“First, a message from Pilk.”
Dar Evn silenced and composed his youthful exuberance for being addressed by a superior.
Tim liked this guy. He brought a lot to the table as well. Last night, his kraken swam through three Crimoan in one gulping inhale and swallowed them down as the aura based creature submerged into the soil. Keeping the familiar alive resonated in an essence of gratitude yet spoken. Again, adding to Tim’s appreciation for this member to his team.
Potential member. He still had to negotiate an official party deal. After all, Mevelieus was an ally to the Dutchy. An alliance there would be a shot across the bow. Maybe that’s why Pilk and the Lord requested it. Heh. Tim was so over his head in this. Just say what you need to say, he told himself, feeling very much like Moses being asked who made his mouth.
“We want to ally Open Arms with Mevelius,” Tim started. With Dar Evn and Gregor’s full attention. They might even guess what that mission might be. They might be part right. “We have plans for your northern coast and see you as the ally of choice to partner in trade and more. Poia’s Tomb is under siege, as are our friends in the fivel nearby. If your Prince Lyle helps us we will help him to the Dutchy’s throne and a piece of Pads’s treasure, whatever we find down there. Pilk has faith in him, even if the rumors I’ve heard so far aren’t as enthusiastic.”
“Feranand was on his way to take Mevelius for himself and leave my friends and family in Chilton, as you call it, to be swallowed up by the Leifman or local warlords.”
“Turns out this year’s Leifman isn’t such a bad guy,” Gregor said with a patient grin. The man had plenty on his mind, Tim was sure, from rallying the Krows back to Squire’s Castle to this plan to move on Padstoligan ASAP. His taking time to be polite, even encouraging Tim was far more than some of the managers he’d had in private security.
“Thanks Gregor. And the message must be delivered by you,” he told Dar Evn. “I’ve seen it. Don’t do it and who knows.”
“Do you see the future?”
Tim shrugged. “Maybe. Either I see potential futures, or maybe it’s a package deal to the visions that Pilk showed me what I need to see to do what the Lord wills. All I can say is I saw you telling Lyle in the dim dawn light overlooking the hill where you broke his arm.”
That caught Dar Evn for another pass.
And confirmed Pilk’s vision with hands gripping his insides.
“Will do,” Dar Evn said, and waited for more.
“Our enemies don’t need to know I saw a vision before joining you in the swarm here. They can think it a coincidence where you were seeking revenge for a breaking of loyalties during the hunt, and we were investigating the nearest town for allies to join our cause. We find mutual benefits to partnering in trade, first of convenience because you’re straight north and second because we’ve bled together.
“You’re talking civil war. Insurrection. Mevelius can’t stand against the Dutchy, let alone the CWAD and the pirates… Brothers to the east in the Republic won’t bother to hide their true colors; they’ll side with the bigger hand like they always do.” Dar Evn didn’t sound scared as he spoke, only laying out the facts. “We fought against the Crimoan and some of their most expensive apparitions. One of which got away. We’d be foolish not to try and team up in hunting it and Feranand down before we stretch ourselves thin in a civil war.”
“We’ll have to do both,” Gregor said. “You worry about your part.”
“If anyone…” Dar Evn looked away, taking a breath to recollect and silence himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not a man of faith like you. Only my sister who cared for his broken arm knew it was me who broke it. Had the Duchess found out, I would’ve been executed. Lyle kept our secret, blaming a fall instead of an overaggressive sword training drill. I serve him loyally, but he’s no King. In a civil war, he’d be a liability. Him and his mom.”
Tim picked up one of the sticks off the map and pointed to the continent’s northernmost peninsula. “Whether you believe it or not, I’ve seen a potential end to this brief civil war, if you must call it that. Repurposing of management could be another.”
Tim had no idea if that was the right terminology but they didn’t seem to either, so he kept on.
In a moment, the enormity of territory before him made his heart race. From Squire’s Castle northeast to its farthest point would be six hundred miles according to Gregor’s expensive maps. Mevelius occupied the central territory on that peninsula, narrower by a third from the largest nation of the three. The Brothers to the east were the Republic of Aemidia, which shielded the Dutchy and Zevehe from northern water foes. Profits expanded their navy to keep control of pirates from the deeper waters east between the known lands and the Mist.
Tim drew his stick along the line he saw with Pilk, where the northern tip was separated from the mainland. “That’s all that will remain of the Mevelius. You have to hold the shore. Send word to all the allies and their second cousins to join you, then send a demo team to lay pipe explosives at key locations cleared of civilians.”
Dar Evn scrutinized that.
“These are outposts I’ve seen where the Dutchy will rise up. When the head shows its eyes, we slice it off from underneath. Holding the shore from their navy reinforcements will include the Republic’s. They become the strongest arm the Dutchy has in this fight. With the Dutchy and Zevehe gathering to invade Kiber on the middle east coast, they are worn thin locally. Clearing the innocent with an invitation to ally with Open Arms and become our northern most port and issue forth a Year of Aura, allows us to snipe out the loyalists to the Dutchy and I’m sorry, but we’re already at war. The Dutchy sent the Crimoan to hunt for the jewel and we killed a lot of them to survive. Based on what I’ve heard about CWAD, assume we’re not gonna play nice.”
“Then we take back Mevelius and do what when the Republic goes to war with our navy?”
“HTC is sending a fleet of six Zka’s to help you keep the shore.”
“How have you already been doing this?” Dar Evn asked.
“I’ll get that part going,” Tim admitted. “I have connections and a pen itching to write contracts. HTC and O.A. are joining enterprises and are eager to align with the right friends.”
“How do you know they have six Zka’s to spare?” Dar Evn asked.
“My connection showed me their figures when we discussed our expansion to the Outer Rim and competition with the CWAD. We’re forming a wall on your north coast and plan to circle east until we’re side by side with Kiber and have Roz’s people safe and ready for the next hunt. We have a long-term goal in mind and are fine with any of our allies finding the jewel next year. More on that when you return. Feranand is likely heading for Prince Lyle already.
Before you go. The demo team…”
Tim drew markers on all the loyalist buildings and evacuation routes for civilians and allies, all the way to the southern border with Wachamia where he’d meet them with supplies and a bunker to hold up in if any loyalists make it through. They’ll have access to a tunnel connected to their railways. Tim assured him they’d get picked up within the day, even if they can’t get a train up by then. He expected this to take place at high noon the following day.
Dar Evn accepted the task without an ounce of dismissal. This would be his role, and he’d see it through.
“Thank you,” Tim said, looking the man in the eye and praying to see him safe again soon.
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