Qalo was beside himself from the demise of the little sparrow. He was wailing and promising revenge on the hawk that had swept out of nowhere and grabbed the small bird. He urged Talax to take out his bow and kill the hawk, but Talax could barely listen to the half-orc’s words.
The truth was that he could barely stay conscious. The backlash from the severing of the bond was so severe that he felt like his core had been attacked by a massive bomb. His pathways around his core had been fried, making it impossible for the mana to flow through and him to cast or even use abilities.
A massive headache made it difficult for him to speak or even think; all he could do was try to keep the contents of his stomach in place. He could hear Aria talking to him, but she sounded like she was talking from a well, her words muffled and distorted. He stayed in the same place for a while, simply existing, waiting for the effects of the spell’s backlash to go away.
At some point, Aria’s voice reached his agitated mind. "Are you okay?" With surprising difficulty, he managed to form thoughts and answer the memory fragment. "I think so; the effects are slowly subsiding." He frowned, realizing that his mental voice sounded weird.
"That is why beast masters are extremely picky about their choice of companions. They choose animal partners that are strong and can evolve into even better versions of themselves." Talax had the presence of mind to protest. "Why didn't you warn me? If you had told me before, I wouldn't have bonded with the sparrow!" Aria sighed. "In part, I let you do it so that you could experience what it felt like to bond with another creature, but I never thought that it would end so quickly and tragically. Eventually, I would have informed you of the benefits and drawbacks of your choice, and later I would advise you to sever the bond. You would still be affected, but not to such a degree."
Talax rubbed his aching temples and resigned himself to half an hour of uncomfortable existence. When he finally came to, he felt much better, but his pathways still felt raw and fragile.
"The one hour has elapsed; you are now able to use mana."
Aria's voice didn't comfort him much because he had the sense that if he used mana in his current state, the experience would be less than enjoyable. He walked to an inconsolable Qalo and tried to calm him down. After some small talk with Gormak, who asked him what had happened to him, they decided to continue on their way. Qalo kept sneaking glances at the crowns of the trees, either hoping in vain that the small bird would return or for the hawk to appear and exact his revenge.
The trip was uneventful from then on. The further they traveled from the dungeon, the more ordinary the woods surrounding them became. The lush foliage had turned a shade less vibrant, the wooden creatures turned into harmless squirrels and wild foxes rather than bloodthirsty beasts, and the ambient mana that illuminated the wild forest with mesmerizing colors disappeared.
Talax was thankful because he had long realized that the presence of magic, even though it offered spectacular sights and unique possibilities, more often than not hid deadly dangers. So, he enjoyed the carefree atmosphere and asked Gormak to tell him stories about his travels.
Talax listened with keen interest to the many places the merchant had visited, his mind being transported to magical places that the dwarf had an uncanny ability to make you feel like you were there with him. The rhythm of the wheels against the dusty road seemed to harmonize with Gormak's voice as he wove a tale of an elven city bathed in ethereal enchantments.
The dwarf’s voice was infused with a sense of wonder when he talked about the elven city called Lómelindë, nestled in the heart of a mystical woods. The architecture was a symphony of living wood and vibrant crystal, making the city feel like a living being. Giving credence to that notion were the whispers you could hear while walking the softly lit streets, the trees whispering to you, urging you to become better, stronger, giving you advice on how to advance your skills and abilities. Buildings spiraled skyward like ethereal spires, their forms fluid and ever-changing, and the air shimmered with arcane energies, lending an iridescent glow to the city. Lights danced within the leaves, painting a tapestry of vibrant hues that whispered of ancient spells.
Later, he told him of a human city at the southernmost point of the Altmar continent overlooking the Azure Bay. A city touched by the God of the sea, Ataaw, where the buildings were sculpted from enchanted coral and luminous sea glass, shifting in hue with the ebb and flow of the tides. Eirilan was not bound by the laws of mundanity; its streets hummed with an ethereal melody, echoing the harmonious chants of sea sprites and elven hymns. Crystalline pathways intertwined with vibrant gardens, where plants bloomed in hues unseen by most mortal eyes.
When Talax had first woken up and realized he was in a world of magic, he had envisioned himself visiting enchanted cities and wonders touched by magic. The part of him that craved adventure and new sights sang in happiness at Gormak’s tales and urged him to visit the marvels he had heard about.
His journey so far had let him see things he had never thought possible, creatures beautiful and ugly, kind and evil, places steeped in magic and temples stamped with the presence of Gods. And yet he was not satisfied, he was not sated, he wanted more.
His daydreams were cut off abruptly when the mushroom started whistling in alarm and all three were immediately ready to fight. A small group of bandits revealed themselves, waiting to ambush the next passerby. Unfortunately for them, both Talax and Qalo were well above their level. The four youngsters were above their heads, the ragtag group realized pretty quickly that they couldn’t hope for a win once Talax threw a Stone Spike.
Talax had already analyzed the bandits and had discovered that their levels ranged from 6-8. They looked like they didn’t even know how to use their rusty weapons and Talax decided to simply frighten them. A simple spell was all it took for the thieves to disperse and fall back into the woods.
At first Talax thought that the small incident was of no importance and had gone unnoticed, but it had unintended consequences. Gormak remained silent from then on with a perpetual frown on his face, barely grunting when Talax asked him a question.
They didn’t stop to rest, when Qalo asked when they were going to set camp, Gormak simply replied that they wouldn’t stop. Talax had to get off the wagon so that Qalo could rest his tired legs. The war hog seemed on the verge of collapse from the nonstop journey, but Gormak was determined to keep going.
They ultimately stopped when night had settled for good, and it was difficult to see their next step. Gormak, for some reason seemed pleased, however, and when Talax asked him about it, he simply pointed ahead.
Talax realized they had stopped at a crossroads. One fork led east while the other led northwest. A small wooden sign, weathered and worn, stood informing the travelers of the destinations.
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One read "Foothill Hollow," pointing to the west. Above it was barely discernible the name "Old Foxly," the name was scratched, and a few unintelligible squiggles were written over it. Ahh, he thought, that was where they were going to part with the dwarf merchant, that was why he was so happy.
Qalo was already setting up camp, and Gormak was fussing over Patch. Talax simply took out his bedroll and exhaustedly laid on the grass, chewing on one of Gormak’s rations. The dried beef was... dry, but it gave him a much-needed energy boost. Qalo, even though just as exhausted as Talax, chose to cook his dinner, and Talax was too tired to even sneak a look at what he was doing.
Eventually, Gormak joined him with a grunt and unrolled his own bedroll. “We should rest; the moaning mushroom will warn if there is any danger.” Talax only hummed in agreement, his eyes already closed. “Besides, we have Patch; the lad barely sleeps, I think it's an ability of his.” Talax grunted. “I was thinking... Maybe we should come with you to Foothill Hollow; the roads are far more dangerous than I thought. I could hire a few sellswords there to accompany me to Old Foxly.” The dwarf’s tone was questioning, as if he was unsure of Talax’s answer.
Talax, wanting to sleep, tried to soothe the dwarf’s fears as best as he could by answering, “sure.” Gormak exhaled in relief and asked. “Are you sure Master orc won’t have a problem with it?”
Without opening his eyes, Talax responded, “yep.” The dwarf hummed and proposed. “I could increase my already very, very generous discount to a groundbreaking 3%. If I had a beard, I would be tugging it right now until there was not a hair left on my chin! That’s how generous I am!” Talax nodded, already dreaming he was sleeping on a feather bed, and murmured, “ok.”
“I mean if Gorgin from my clan knew of how generous I am being, he would ridicule me in the village square and have me sleep at the war hog pen! Let me tell you, that’s one unpleasant experience!” After a brief pause, he added. “Are you sure you don’t mind us joining you, right? Is there anything else you want? And don’t say another discount because that’s as far as I could go! I mean it would be better to leave my wagon for the bandits than to increase your already astonishing...”
Talax’s eyes flew open, and he gave a low growl. “If you don’t let me sleep, then not only will I help those bandits rob you, but I will tie you down and let Qalo feed you that sludgy abomination he is been slurping! Now go away!” Gormak looked at him and nodded mutely, but after a moment, he saw a small smile on his lips.
The next morning, they woke up early, disturbed by Patch’s insistent muttering, which grew louder and louder the longer they ignored him. Gormak woke up swearing by the Pantheon and a few other Gods and went to see what was wrong with his son.
Talax yawned and stretched, feeling reinvigorated by the uninterrupted sleep. Gormak returned with a furious expression, but Patch’s muttering had returned to the usual, unsettling level. “The boy had lost his damn disc,” the dwarf said angrily, packing his things.
“Yeah, what is this thing?” Talax asked with a yawn. “Damn if I know; I showed it once to a blacksmith, but he had no clue. The kid made so much fuss when he didn’t find the thing that we were almost kicked out of the town. Maybe it’s some trinket from his previous life...” The dwarf muttered, and Talax looked at the deranged Patch, feeling a weird kinship with him.
“What are ya doin’? Get up!” the dwarf hollered and went to wake up Qalo, who was still snoring, making the leaves above his head rustle. “If we are lucky, we will be at Foothill Hollow before sundown. Now get up!” Gormak shouted in Qalo’s ear, making the half-orc startle and look around wildly.
“Master Orc,” the dwarf said in a lower voice, but still too high for this early in the morning. The dwarf was definitely not a morning person. They packed their things to the insistent growls of Gormak, who was urging them to go faster. Qalo was looking at Talax with a confused expression, wondering what was up with the dwarf.
When Qalo asked about breakfast, the dwarf went into a rant and started shouting about lazy daisies and good-for-nothing nobodies. Qalo was looking at the short dwarf with wide eyes and then turned his gaze on Talax as if he was responsible for Gormak’s foul mood.
Talax handed Qalo one of Gormak’s rations and protested. “I didn’t do anything!” just to be sure. Qalo looked at the brown cube Talax gave him and gave it a lick. Talax looked on with interest since he hadn’t tasted the weird food; it had the consistency of melted cheese, and its color wasn’t particularly appetizing.
When he saw Qalo give a disinterested shrug, Talax gave a sigh of relief and decided to have the salted karamaran for lunch. The wagon started before he could even take a seat, and they traveled for the rest of the morning and early afternoon without stopping. Talax let Qalo take his seat every so often and would walk alongside the wagon to allow them to take a break.
As Talax walked, he realized with some surprise that there was a change. The temperature had fallen drastically, and small puffs of air escaped his lips with every breath. In the distance, he saw a towering mountain shrouded in mist. He couldn't make out how tall the mountain rose since the mist seemed to cling to it until it merged with the clouds above.
“Talax, I am cold!” Qalo whined. Talax looked at the shivering orc with narrowed eyes. “What do you expect me to do?” Then a thought struck him, and he looked at Gormak, who was already sporting a fur-lined coat. “Do you have anything to buy? Like a coat or something?” The dwarf shook his head.
“No, I already told you I sell dwarven homeware and some simple weapons. Although, those flamefruits I sold you have a kick, they could help with the cold.” Talax searched for his satchel and with frozen fingers took out a flamefruit. It looked like a tomato with horns, and he took a hesitant bite.
The taste was bitter, but after a moment, he felt an intense burn in his mouth that traveled all the way down to his stomach. The sensation was quite unsettling; he felt like he had a bomb making its way down his body, but the intense burning had another result: he felt the tips of his hands regain some semblance of sensation.
Talax handed Qalo another fruit, and the half-orc took a big bite, then whined. “It’s practically tasteless!” Then he went cross-eyed and exclaimed. “Oh! It tickles!” He said with a chuckle and took another bite. Talax came to a realization: the half-orc didn’t want his food to taste good; he simply wanted an experience, whatever weird or unexpected was exactly what he was looking for.
“What’s up with the cold?” Talax demanded. “There are two ley lines further north, an ice ley line and a water one. Their effects are quite strong in this area, creating thunderstorms, blizzards, and mist all year round. Add the cloud mountains to the mix, and we are up for a cold journey; hopefully, we will reach Foothill Hollow before a storm breaks out.”
“That is wonderful,” Talax replied, but Qalo’s horrified expression made him want to laugh. His thin vest was fluttering in the weak wind, and with each passing moment, it became clear that they were both completely unprepared for the harsh weather.
“Aria, you could have warned us about the bad weather!” Talax accused, wanting to vent some of his frustration. “I do not remember the existence of the ley lines or the harsh cold. It appears that my memory isn’t as it used to be.” Her tone was sad, as if she had just come to the realization, and Talax wanted to shout in frustration since he couldn’t vent on the distraught ghost.
For the rest of the day, they traveled in silence. Only the intermittent mutterings of Patch punctuated the eerie quiet that enveloped them. As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, a biting cold settled over them. Both Talax and Qalo battled against the harsh elements. With each step, they felt the chill creeping deeper into their bones, the frigid air stinging their faces.
Their breaths hung in the air like ephemeral clouds, dissipating into the darkening sky. In a bid to ward off the encroaching frost, they quickened their pace, their boots crunching against the frozen ground as they trudged onward.
The proximity to the mountain offered no reprieve; if anything, it seemed to intensify the biting cold. The wind whipped against them with unforgiving force, as if the mountain itself were testing their resolve. Long shadows cast by the rugged peaks elongated, stretching like icy fingers across the landscape, plunging the temperature to an even more unforgiving degree.
The landscape around them, once a wild forest full of life, had transformed into a desolate expanse. They pressed on, hoping that soon they would find shelter, but all Talax could see was his own boots, crushing the frozen blades of grass.
He was at the end of his patience when Gormak exclaimed in a tired voice, “We are here!” Talax looked up with a relieved smile, waiting to see the inviting lights of a village. His smile faded when all he saw was rough, unforgiving stone all around him.
“Where?” He muttered over the wind, and his words were snatched away, but Gormak, seeing his confusion, pointed to a small crack in the wall.
Talax gaped and muttered, “Now that’s what I am talking about!”