Chapter Sixty-five

The answer to the age-old question no-one had ever asked was yes — a spirit was perfectly capable of having a hangover. Unfortunately.

The head I did not possess hurt like hell, and I wished my vision had not returned to me, because the world around me was spinning. And by world I meant the room I was in. Then a somewhat nostalgic urge to throw up came over me. Luckily, I had neither the appropriate organs nor the contents to do so, but the discomfort I felt was very real. I tried to move my tentacles, and the reward for my effort was more pain. I had never felt the presence of the buggers so sharply and painfully before. But they moved — slowly and not exactly how I wanted them to — so there was that.

I waited for the room to stop moving around like a drugged whirligig, and I contemplated what had happened. My memories were vague and spotty, but I distinctly remembered someone declaring me drunk on some sort of Essence, I had some recollection of a big bunch of elves in strange uniforms, and I was almost certain there had been a pug for some reason, whose soul I had briefly removed and then shoved back into its misshapen little body. I hadn’t known I could do something like that with a soul, but that particular memory was fairly clear. I’d have to conduct some experiments later, but the first order of things was to wait for the headache and the nausea to subside.

Things stabilized over a few minutes, and I got a better picture of my surroundings. A dresser. A desk. A bed occupied by none other than my favourite host, Krissy.

She was sleeping under a blanket, snoring quietly. I let out an imaginary breath of relief — she seemed to be alright. With one of my tenties running through her body, I could see she had proper casts on her arm and her leg, as well as a few bandages here and there. I hoped the only thing she needed now was rest.

I moved my tentacles a little in order to see more. I could see the moon through the single window of the room — whether it was rising or setting I couldn’t tell. And an armchair, containing Kitala Iwani, sleeping in a weird, half-sitting half-slouching position. And of course Tilry.

The familiar snapped her head to look at me as soon as I moved, her pseudo-ponytail not bothering to mimic the flicking movements real hair would have done.

‘Tilry,’ I whispered to her as quietly as I could so as to not wake Krissy.

‘Hey, you’re finally awake,’ the spirit whispered back.

‘God, I hate that game,’ I groaned silently, and I didn’t wait for Tilry to ask what game I was talking about. ‘What happened? Where are we? How long have I been, uhm … sleeping?’

‘You … don’t remember?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Wouldn’t be asking if I did,’ I said dryly. ‘Tell me everything!’

Tilry considered this for a moment, looking at her own, sleeping host. Kitala Iwani stirred, leaned over to the other side of the large chair, and began snoring quite a bit louder than Krissy. That made my headache flare up, but I managed to ignore it and focus on Tilry’s account of events as she began to whisper.

‘We’re in Sek Artem. The elven marines had taken us to the shore, then sailed away. Kiwa and Arde carried Lady Krissintha and … you, and we made it to the city by this morning. Surgeons from Fifth Rangers treated her injuries, so she should be fine. She can even walk with those.’ The spirit pointed at a pair of wooden crutches at one of the walls, then continued. ‘Lady Wensah volunteered to conduct the interrogation of the green barbarians in your place. She spent most of the day doing that with some important looking elves, but I’m not sure how it went. We spent the day with Lady Krissintha, you know, bathing, the treatment, then eating and resting. But when Lady Wensah came here, she seemed happy to have learned what Lady Sivera was up to. Then she vanished.’

Oh. I had hoped it had been just a bad dream, but no, Wensah had really been here. At least she was gone. I mean, I would have expected her to wait for me to wake up, if for nothing else than to chew me out for … for whatever it was I’d done.

‘Why did she leave?’ I asked.

‘I think because that scary Hellspawn-elf showed up,’ Tilry said, looking up at the ceiling.

‘The Hellspawn … as in Fenirig Arte?’ I asked, thoroughly terrified. Why was that horrible drill sergeant here?

‘Yes, him,’ the familiar said, nodding. ‘When the important looking elves told Lady Wensah that the Hellspawn was coming, she just said “Oh no, I’m not dealing with that!”, and she just … disappeared.’

On one hand, I completely understood the sentiment — I wouldn’t necessarily want to deal with him either. On the other hand, Wensah was a god, for god’s sake! Why would she not want to meet him? Did they perhaps know each other? Fenirig Arte hadn’t recognised the name Wensah when we’d told him who the Bureau’s patron god was. Or maybe the man’s reputation had reached even the gods and the gods put their hands up, saying they’d rather avoid him? Was Fenar the Chuck Norris of this world or something?

‘Alright, so … did the elves get what they wanted from the interrogation as well?’ I asked.

‘I believe so.’

‘Is everyone else okay? The trainees, and Dimal and Sini? Oh! And are the orks still alive?’

‘The trainees are fine. I mean, they didn’t really have to fight, except for Arde. The others are fine, too,’ Tilry said, then she sort of strained her translucent neck as if leaning closer to my body, hovering over Krissy’s bed. ‘And it seems the elves like the word you have come up with for the barbarians.’

I just stared at her, not understanding what she meant. And since my body wasn’t suited for the kind of body-language she was used to, she didn’t realize I was staring at her, waiting for an explanation.

‘What are you talking about?’ I asked.

‘Ork. Or orks. The elves like that word. Some of them started using it already instead of calling them “greens” or “barbarians”.’

‘I see, I see,’ I hummed, contemplating this development. I was leaving my mark on this world, wasn’t I? Earl Grey then the word “ork”? I wondered what else I could bless these people with. But that wasn’t important right now. ‘So … are the orks still alive? Or have they killed them already?’

‘No, they’re alive,’ Tilry explained. ‘The elves had agreed to these honorable duels they wanted. After that they pretty much answered any question the elves or Lady Wensah put to them.’

‘Okay. And what happened to their galley?’

‘They burned it. It fell apart and sank,’ she replied. ‘I think the remaining slaves went down with the ship. The orks didn’t seem to care about them much.’

That was a shocking piece of news. Not about burning the ork ship, but about no-one giving a second thought about the humans and few elves still on it. Well, I was in no position to talk about wasting human lives, not after having eaten a couple hundred of them. In fact, I could understand the elves not wanting to take those slaves into custody. They would have had to transport them, feed them, not to mention the security risk, and I doubted the poor sods had any useful information their green masters did not. It was a pragmatic approach, I decided, and left it at that.

‘Did they say when these duels with the orks will be?’ I asked.

‘In the afternoon. It’s almost morning now,’ the familiar said. ‘I heard someone say there will be a hearing today. Before the duels.’

‘A hearing?’ I asked, not quite sure what she meant.

‘A hearing,’ she repeated the word. That didn’t help me much.

‘What kind of hearing?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘A defense committee, or council, and something about some important people not being comfortable with an evil spirit being here. Oh, and about plans to go and kill more orks. Revenge or retaliation, I think. I didn’t hear everything.’

I would have exhaled long and sharp if I had the equipment to do so. Instead I just made my tentacles quake a little. It wasn’t as satisfying, but it was enough to make Tilry visibly shudder, and I just had to be happy with that.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

A hearing. About me, obviously, because who else would count as an evil spirit in this place, other than me. Had Wensah not explained to them who I was? For someone who’d been calling me stupid and useless for as long as I’d known her, she was quite stupid and useless. Damn. I’d have to ask Krissy — I was sure she was more in the loop than Kiwa’s familiar, but … I didn’t want to wake her. She needed her rest, she deserved it more than anyone. Since morning was still a few hours away, I decided I’d look into my recent gains as well as try to figure out what had happened to me and Mr Instinct.

***

I had a quick look around, just to make sure we were safe. With nine, 7.5 metres long tenties at my disposal — not counting the one I was using to stay connected to Krissy — I was able to peek through walls and anything else made of matter. It didn’t take long to determine that we were in a barrack, similar to what I was used to seeing in Gal Themar, in the training compound of Third Rangers. Apart from a few guards here and there, the place was quiet.

I was larger now, and my tentacles were coiling around, filling the small room. Tilry stared at them, turning her head back and forth between them. I couldn’t tell if she was worried or fascinated, but I was beginning to understand the kind of horror and trepidation my presence would cause to the average familiar. As I started to think back to our mission on the galley, I was maybe a little scared of myself.

I had eaten a lot, and it had been … easy. Well, not in the literal sense, as there had been some opposition, so much so that I had failed to protect Krissy. It had been easy in a sense that I’d had no reservation and felt no remorse killing hundreds of people. And in the end of the day, they were people. Had I been wrong to go through that galley like a combine harvester through a field of wheat? Mr Instinct had certainly been in favour of it. I didn’t think I had been wrong either, but not because of Mr Instinct — I needed to put my foot down and ignore or even push that guy back from now on — but because in that given situation, it had to be done. The result, as horrific as it may be, was what we wanted. What the elves wanted. We had saved thirty or so Solace citizens from a life of slavery and suffering. Would I do it again? I probably would, and based on what Tilry had just said, the elven leadership was already planning a retaliation-slash-rescue mission.

The upcoming hearing was a bit of a concern, but if Fenar was here, my guess was that he’d smooth things over and then insist Krissy and I participate in the upcoming expedition to punish the marauders. I mean, who wouldn’t want an invisible weapon of mass destruction on their side, right?

Weapon of mass destruction? Yeah, sure, whatever.

I turned my attention to my body.

***

The first thing I noticed was the thread that ran through my tenth tentacle, connecting my communication node to Krissy’s. I remembered severing that connection, I didn’t remember restoring it. It must have been Wensah. I wondered if I should be feeling violated, or at least uncomfortable, knowing she had rummaged through my insides. But she had done worse things, such as stealing the soul out of my dead body, so maybe this had been a minor procedure in comparison.

I closed my metaphorical eyes and had a look at what else she had done. I began to drift into the darkness of my own being, back to the same place where I had found that little ring made of Black Essence. I remembered trying to push my consciousness through it. I remembered failing, and the tiny portal coming apart. My memories of what had happened after that were hazy at best, but that portal should have been in pieces. Instead, it was there, right as rain, as far as I could tell. I listened for voices that might be coming through it, but luckily, Mr Instinct was quiet. Or sleeping. Or something.

Black Essence. It was good to know I actually had a small amount of it in my body, forming the ring, and I was trying to picture how a familiar might be using the Black Essence cubes, given to them by their respective gods, to enlarge the portal so they could return to the spirit world, reuniting their avatars and consciousnesses with their actual bodies. I, of course, knew better than to even try touching the ring again, so I steered clear of it. “Let sleeping dogs lie” as the saying went.

I withdrew from that weird inner space. As I did, I sensed something new there, something that hadn’t been there before, or at least I hadn’t noticed before. It was a thread, going through the portal. I was barely able to perceive it, but it was there, and it smelled like Wensah. She had really been in here, and I wondered if I could have or would have died without her intervention.

‘Huh, my plot-armour’s a bitch,’ I mumbled just to myself.

***

I returned to my normal senses — I once again saw the room, Krissy, Kiwa and Tilry. It was still dark outside, although I could see a faint glow over the horizon. Morning was coming, but neither Krissy nor Kiwa seemed like they were about to wake, so I focused on my recent growth.

I had jumped from Level 31 to Level 34 in less than half a day.

Level 35 required some 5700 EXP total. I had a about 1900 EXP banked already, so I figured if this orkish invasion was still ongoing, I might get lucky. Barring that, Orkuz Graal and his gang were still alive, and while they wouldn’t be enough for another level, I wouldn’t say no to it either.

Apart from the obvious and observable growth of my body and tentacles, the available space for my pools and rooms had grown as well. I was absolutely unable to quantify this internal space, because what basis and what unit of measurement would I even use for something like this? That aside, I could now grow my Secondary Essence Pool or Jack’s Room, but they were a decent size already, and I wanted to focus on my Spirit Room instead, because the familiar-costume I was planning to make required a lot of storage space.

So, I got to work.

Work consisted of mixing Essence with Mana, kneading them together, then adding a little Spirit-Stuff from my own body, kneading some more, then willing the new substance to go and incorporate itself into my Spirit-Room, expanding it. The process was slow, repetitive, but as the hours passed, my Spirit Room was slowly growing larger.

Tilry wasn’t moving. At all. She was like a spirit-statue looking at me with a constant, unchanging stare. I wasn’t sure how much of what I was doing she could see or understand, but I was sure she was watching me. She wasn’t like me. She was a proper familiar, a born spirit, and questions began to form in my mind.

‘Do you not get bored?’ I asked her. ‘I mean, what’s a spirit to do while the host is sleeping?’

Tilry’s four arms moved all of a sudden, kind of like a pantomime artist doing the robot.

‘No. I’m a familiar,’ she said.

It kind did and didn’t answer my question.

‘But … doesn’t it bother you? Not being able to move, or do anything without Kiwa?’

‘No,’ she replied.

‘Why?’ I asked.

Because it did bother me. Not that I was unhappy with being Krissy’s familiar, far from it. I liked Krissy, and I always had things to do or to think about, just like I was expanding my Spirit Room right now. But Tilry or other familiars? I suspected spirits who were born spirits might have experienced things differently.

‘I’m used to it,’ she said. ‘And more things happen in the material world than in the spirit world.’

‘Oh? Is the spirit world boring?’

‘It’s … big. And mostly empty.’

‘Empty? What about other spirits?

‘There are a lot of spirits. Millions, I was told.’

‘So it’s not empty then.’

‘No, it’s empty. I didn’t see another spirit for a long time after I was born.’

Well, I couldn’t honestly say I could picture the place, but it seemed the Spirit World had an extremely low population density. Maybe it was like the largely uninhabited steppes, or the great prairies, or a desert, where you could wander for days, weeks or even years before coming across another person. I couldn’t imagine being born into a place like that and then not seeing another … person … wait! Born?

‘Tilry, when you say born, what exactly do you mean? Do you have mommy and daddy spirit or something?’

The familiar just stared at me for long moments, unmoving.

‘I heard you weren’t born a spirit,’ she said.

‘That’s correct. I used to be human.’ There was no point denying it was there. ‘How are spirits born?’

‘From Essence.’

‘And?’

‘And when we die we return to Essence.’

After a mental exhale I considered this for a half a minute. As I had discovered, Essence was the basis for everything spiritual — Mana and Spirit Stuff were both variations of Essence, so what Tilry was saying was the local, spiritual equivalent of “ashes to ashes, dust to dust”. It kind of made sense.

‘Alright, talk me through this. You are born, from Essence, and then somehow you end up a familiar. How does that happen?’

‘I was born. Then I waited,’ she began her story, but I had to interrupt her right there.

‘Waited? Didn’t you … I don’t know, go around, exploring? What about infancy? Did you have to learn things?’

‘No. I knew there were many others like me as soon as I came into being. I couldn’t move by myself, just as I can’t move here without a host. So I waited. For a long time. Then Sivera found me. She’s a grand spirit. She can move. And she can make what you called “black Essence”.

‘How did she become a grand sprit?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe she was a familiar for long enough to grow into one?’ she said, shrugging with all four of her … arms … or shoulders.

I knew that growths was the reason spirits were willing, or even eager to become familiars, so that wasn’t news.

‘Right. But … if spirits are born immobile, how did the first familiar become a familiar. How did it even know it could be done? And how did the first grand spirit become a grand spirit?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tilry said, shaking her head.

‘Oh, hold on now! If there is Essence over there, then why are gods and spirits come over here in the first place?’

‘The Essence here in the material realm is raw. Over there it’s not.’ The answer came.

‘Why is that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘They don’t teach history over there, do they?’

‘No,’ she said, and then asked a question of her own. ‘How did you become an evil spirit?’

It wasn’t an unexpected question. Only Krissy knew the story, and I wondered if it was a good idea to tell Tilry, but in the end I couldn’t come up with any compelling reason not to tell her.

‘Wensah,’ I said. ‘When I died, she took my soul and worked it into the critter. She called it “soul-surgery”. Don’t ask how it works, because I don’t know. And for the record, I’m not evil.’

Tirly considered it for a few seconds, then nodded.

‘You’re not a mindless predator, but you are growing too much and too fast for a familiar.’

‘Does it scare you?’ I asked.

‘It did.’

‘And now?’

‘Now? I’m … jealous,’ she admitted. When flicked a tentacle towards her without saying anything, she realised I was waiting for her to elaborate. ‘Kitala Iwani is my third host. When she dies, I will grow again. It’s … slow, and I can’t do it without a grand spirit’s assistance.’

That was true. My leveling was insanely fast compared to the average familiar, and I didn’t have to depend on some semi-benevolent god’s Black Essence to eat a soul. I could understand why she was jealous.

I wanted to ask another question about how the whole process of a god assigning a familiar to a human or an elf worked. I also wanted to ask about Sivera. But the first light of the morning sun shone through the window, and Krissy stirred in her bed.