Eight 4

The silverlight before me had been split into eight portions, one for each of the Maltrans killed in the fight at the Glen. Four belonged to the weakest among them; the ones who’d died on the earth spikes. I reached for their portions first, pausing in between each to experience what the silverlight had to offer.

45 silverlight gathered. 45 absorbed.

57 silverlight gathered. 57 absorbed.

61 silverlight gathered. 61 absorbed.

47 silverlight gathered. 47 absorbed.

In a way it was funny. Altogether, that was enough silverlight to take someone almost to Level 2, but all I’d felt was a minor buzz—a chilling of the meridians and slight dizziness. There’d been no clear sense of the individual people, like their silverlight had been blended together instead of kept separated. That probably made sense since they’d all had extra cores embedded in them. The light for those cores would have had to have come from somewhere.

Next were the two dawn soldiers:

173 silverlight gathered. 173 absorbed.

This time, my body grew heavy, and the world felt fragile around me—so much so that the slightest gesture would break it apart. My strength was the fulcrum around which all things revolved. I felt like I had the power to do good or ill, but instead I chose service to a higher authority instead.

189 silverlight gathered. 189 absorbed.

This next experience was green and familiar. There was an appreciation for the woods that most villagers or townsfolk didn’t understand. Namely, the wilderness wasn’t a source of terror. Well, it was, but it was also a place of great beauty. And like all beautiful things, it ought to belong to one’s zasha.

After absorbing the second batch of light, I asked for a sip of water to clear away the aftertaste. Each of the soldiers’ experiences had started off promising, but then both veered into an unwavering, dizzying loyalty. As I thought about it, there’d been that taste to the four earlier nuggets of silverlight too.

Mumu noted the lengthening pause. “Is the light instructive?”

“I’m not sure,” I answered. “These people were very… loyal.”

“The Maltrans are famed for it,” Tegen said. “They worship their emperor and empress—their Brother Sun and Sister Moon.”

According to the stories I’d heard of the Maltran empire, all it would take was a glance at either the emperor or the empress for someone to become their adoring servant. I’d assumed those stories were an exaggeration, but it was looking like maybe they weren’t. If a person invested heavily in their Charm attribute, had the talents to support it, and also had access to persuasion magics too, wouldn’t it be possible?

I eyed the rest of the silverlight dubiously, then reached for the second largest portion—the one that had belonged to Sulia the Master Diviner.

801 silverlight gathered. 801 absorbed.

My surroundings disappeared as a dark void washed over me, except the emptiness had a presence—a feeling of direction that would unerringly point toward the way forward. And, as I experienced that emptiness, it suddenly skewed. The direction turned toward a new way. Still forward, but the progress belonged to someone else. And it was gladly done too, for service to one’s zasha was a blessing even at the cost of one’s own Path to Perfection.

Then I was back among my teammates, and I noticed that Tegen had reached over to keep me sitting upright. The dizziness was back, stronger than ever.

“Get up and walk around,” Mumu ordered. “If you feel the need, take your spear to the inn’s yard to practice your forms. Do so until you remember yourself and your path. Tegen will accompany you while the rest of us sit in vigil.”

“Okay,” I signed, and then said aloud, “That’s a good idea.”

Absorbing silverlight could be an intense experience, but I’d never before felt quite this off-kilter while doing it. Fanaticism wasn’t catching, was it? Like a virus? I didn’t think so, but I grabbed my spear and headed outside anyway.

One of the inn’s staff was in the process of hanging laundry out to dry. I didn’t want to disturb him, so I found a corner to practice the spear forms for fighting in tight spaces. The movements required my hands at the middle of the haft, treating the weapon like quarterstaff for short thrusts and sharp, fast swings.

I started slow, then picked up speed to work up a sweat. I’d gone without breakfast and lunch, so I felt a bit lightheaded, but it was the good kind—the one where you felt free and unencumbered. Partway through, I snapped a Dog’s Agility into place, and the spear buzzed as it swept through the air. My focus was pointed half inward and half outward, so I noticed the inn’s housekeeper startled look my way. There was also Tegen’s nod of approval.

My Spear Arts skill had come a long way since I’d first arrived on Diaksha. Those early days when I’d struggled just to hold the spear were gone. At rank 11, I could be considered a professional spearman—decidedly average, but still a professional. All the hard work I’d put into it, along with the other hunter and magic skills, represented me and the ethos I’d brought with me to this world.

With Dog’s Agility demanding I go faster and faster, there was no space to think, no option to do anything other than trust my body’s knowledge of the forms. At this speed, I danced a deadly whirlwind.

Afterward, my breath heaving, I felt more focused, like I could handle anything that came at me.

Tegen handed me a wash cloth he’d gotten from the housekeeper. “Mark my words, you’ll get your next rank in Spear Arts when you reach Level 9.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“I do,” he replied. “You’ve improved the control of your center and the flow of power into your strikes. They are the subtle-but-powerful hallmarks of a developing hunter.”

Pleased by the assessment, I said, “I’ve had good teachers.”

Tegen nodded, a touch of mischief in his voice as he said, “Yes, you have.”

“Some might even call them the best teachers in all of Albeityel.”

“Mm. Mm.” Tegen nodded. “So I’ve heard as well.”

That arrogance was so out-of-character, I couldn’t help chuckling at it. And Tegen soon joined me, the two of us simply enjoying the moment.

“How is it?” he asked. “Are you better?”

“I am.”

“Then let’s finish what you’ve begun,” he said. “Level 9 awaits you.”

Back upstairs, Mumu and the others were where I’d left them, although they’d switched cushions so that Teila could sit next to Snow. The blynx’s head was in her lap, being softly petted.

Signs flickered—questions and reassurances passed back and forth between us. We all had Yuki, so information wasn’t exactly in short supply, but there was just something so satisfying about speaking directly. A different kind of connection than the one offered by the uekisheile.

As I sat anew, the thought occurred to me that this observation might be a lesson for me. I’d known from my old life that talking on the phone hadn’t been the same as being there in person. That would also be true with the Yuki network, and Ikfael had been likely right to be concerned. Not to mention the whole dying in the wilderness thing.

Well, I was someone who believed in solutions. I’d continue to work to return to Ikfael’s good graces.

The silverlight left by Sklein melted into my hands as I’d scooped it up.

3,124 silverlight gathered. 3,124 absorbed.

Jesus, I thought, and then my eyes rolled back into my head. Everything scrambled as a wall of static slammed into me, a hodgepodge of sensations. I walked along an unfamiliar city’s streets; slept in an underground burrow along with my den-mates; circled in the air as part of a kettle of vultures; stood rooted as a centuries-old oak while waiting, waiting, waiting; stepped over the slain enemy before me to get to his comrades behind him. All around us was a melee as hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers fought with steel and magic. Dogs barked, and horses screamed as they went down.

My perspective shifted several times, all still within the same battle—an overwhelming mixture of clawing, grasping, hating, determined, fearful desperation. Many, many soldiers had died on that vast, open plain.

###

I woke up, my heart racing. Instantly, I rolled into a crouch and drew my knives. My eyes darted around a room full of shadowed enemies. In the back of my head, Yuki yelled at me to calm down. They said it was safe, but experience told me that they lied. There were enemies everywhere, and safety only lay in the hands of my zasha.

Breathing hard, with a great exertion of will, I eased my grip on the knives. I forced myself to sheathe them, to stand upright and look truly at what was before me. My teammates watched me with wary, concerned eyes. As soon as I’d drawn my weapons, they’d camouflaged and moved to the room’s far edges. If it hadn’t been for my spirit eyes, I wouldn’t have seen it happen.

“It’s all right,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I’m back to being just me.”

‘That frightened me,’ Yuki said, the words echoed to my teammates too.

“Me too,” I said.

Through Yuki, Mumu asked me, ‘Is it truly so? Are you returned to yourself?’

“Yes, my hunt sister, I am Eight once more.” My muscles tensed as I clenched my fists. I pressed my feet into the ground and cast an Iron Heart too, the goal to ground me in my body. In this place and in this time.

Tegen dropped his Camouflage first. “You seem to have had an adventure, our Eight.”

I took a deep breath and let it out. “It seems so,” I replied as dryly as I could.

I was someone who believed in solutions. If there was a challenge or obstacle, I’d find a way to overcome it. In my mind’s eye, a notification flashed:

Congratulations. You have collected enough silverlight to grow in power.

###

Normally, I’d hurry to check my gains, but I really needed a breather, so I went outside to get some more fresh air instead. Afterward, I grabbed a bite to eat in the inn’s dining room, the food further helping to settle me. Throughout, my team hovered protectively, with Snow practically clinging to my legs.

Eventually, I felt fortified enough to check the notification, so we all trooped back upstairs where we’d have some privacy. My team spread out around the room, seeming to avoid by silent consensus the now-empty pine box at the center.

Mumu gestured for me to join her by the window, and I saw the people on the street walking-hurrying-moving with intention. The pedestrians focused on their own dealings, and none happened to glance up. A moment later, Ikfael materialized out of her figurine and climbed up onto the sill. She kept her back to the street, though, so she could watch us.

In the past, my family and friends had sung for me whenever I’d leveled. This time, they were… solemn wasn’t the right word, and serious wasn’t descriptive enough. It was like the stakes had been raised, and they didn’t know how to deal with it.

Mumu put her hand on my shoulder. “A hundred blessings upon you, our Eight. You’ve gone where no others in Voorhei’s history have gone. Level 9 is an accomplishment, the doorway to silvered.”

All around, the others nodded along, even Ikfael. The otter’s eyes were complicated, but they didn’t conceal the hint of pride there.

“Thank you,” I said, choking up.

“Usually our Teila would sing,” Haol observed, “but she seems to have gone all shy.”

“I’m not shy,” she protested. “It’s just… Level 9 deserves a grand celebration, and yet it’s only our team at an inn. Our Eight deserves more and bigger.”

“I wouldn’t want any more than this,” I said. “Well, I’d like the rest of my family to be here too, but I’ll tell them about it later.”

‘Too late,’ Yuki said, broadcasting to the team. ‘They’re already cheering for our Eight.’ Then, they shared the glad emotions coming from Aluali, and Yuki carried my own warmth back to him.

That seemed to break the strange tension in the room, and everyone converged on me then—patting me on the back and laughing. And yes, Teila sang, forcing Haol to join her. It was a return to normalcy that had been missing recently.

“So, how is it?” Tegen said, “You can’t keep us waiting.”

Teila interrupted herself to say, “Yes, yes. What is Level 9 like?”

Mumu merely raised an eyebrow at me. Grinning, I checked the phone in my mind and saw:

Congratulations. You have collected enough silverlight to grow in power.

You’re now Level 9. You receive 1 free attribute point. Checking for new talents. Sorry, no new talents were triggered.

Attribute and skill gains have been finalized. Thank you for striving toward perfection.

Wisdom has increased from 15 to 16.

Agility will grow from 15 to (16).

Woodworking has increased from 8 to 9.

Repairs has increased from 6 to 7.

Qi Body Arts has increased from 12 to 13.

Nature Magic has increased from 8 to 9.

Spear Arts has increased from 11 to 12.

The base benefits for a Level 9 Storm Caller are active.

Attribute foci:

Wisdom, primary

Spirit, secondary

Agility, tertiary

Skill foci:

Aeromancy

Hydromancy

Nature Magic

Survival, all

Spear Arts

Archery

Your capacity for silverlight has grown. Secondary attributes increase by another 20%. The total bonus is now 180%.

Body power has increased from 34 to 36.

Qi has increased from 107 to 116.

Mana has increased from 46 to 50.

A smile spread across Tegen’s face when I told him about the 12 Spear Arts. Although, to be honest, the gain in Qi Body Arts was the most surprising of the skill gains. It was certainly the magic I practiced the most, but anything after 10 was slow to come by.

The other increase that stood out was the gain in Wisdom. A point had been taken away by Heleitia, and now it was back again? There’d also been no indications I’d been close to an increase—no parenthesis to signal that growth in the attribute was coming.

My understanding was that attributes were like buckets—the harder you worked to improve them, the more they filled up. It was possible that when Heleitia had taken a point of Wisdom away, she’d removed enough from the bucket to drop me to 15 but not so much as to empty it all the way. She’d left enough “hard work” in there to keep 16 within reach.

Maybe that, plus the bonus from my path was enough to do it, especially when taking into account the myriad perspectives I’d glimpsed earlier from the silverlight. All those factors together could explain the increase. It was a reasonable hypothesis, anyway.

I held onto the free attribute for the time being. Both Strength and Constitution were at 13, and if I managed to get one or the other to 14 through training, I could use the point to hit a milestone. The other option would be to go all in on trying to reach 20 Wisdom, which was probably what I should do. It was my path’s primary attribute, and any talents triggered at that milestone were sure to be powerful.

Moving on, I went through the various tooltips to see if anything else had changed. Then, I compared my visible and hidden Statuses. Over the years, the two had become increasingly similar—the information on the hidden Status becoming visible. This time, I saw that the Jack of All Trades talent had finally transferred over.

All of my talents were now visible, as well my skills and their rankings too. The only things still missing were a couple of blessings and the soul marks related to coming to this world—God Touched, Spontaneous Formation, and Memories of Another World.

Fortunately, spirit maps required interpretation, and they didn’t provide the same clarity and detail as the phone in my mind. My skill in English, for example, was read as a secret family language, and the same was true for Spanish. That hadn’t helped my reputation any—what family needed two secret languages? But at least the truth of how I’d arrived into this world was protected.

My lifestyle also helped. Being a shrine keeper, playing an active role in the running of our lodge, and having a centuries old intelligence living in my body—those were all wonderful sources of excuses for the other weird skills in my possession.

And now I could point to Jack of All Trades too as a way to have accumulated such a depth and variety of skills. Nothing out of the ordinary, here. Just your average sixteen-year-old with ten talents. Gods, people were going to flip.

It’s going to be so much fun, Yuki said. When we get back to Voorhei, let’s party like it’s 1999.

Teila did, in fact, shriek when I shared the news about a tenth talent.

Ikfael seemed unsurprised but pleased. Her eyes smiled for the first time in days.

Haol stood open-mouthed, while Tegen rubbed the bridge of his nose, his brow furrowed as if trying to comprehend something insensible.

Mumu startled briefly, before picking me up and spinning me around. She must’ve used Bear Strength to do it, because I wasn’t a small kid anymore. We went around a good ten times before Tegen finally stopped her.

He’d recovered enough to grab me and ask, “How? Just how?”

I fortunately had a story ready for him; it even had the benefit of being true. “I’ve always been good at picking up new things,” I said. “And you know how serious I am about self-improvement.”

“But the time,” Tegen said, “I don’t understand how you’ve had time to train and study all these things.”

“I live two lives,” I explained. “What you see during the day and also my dreams at night. With Yuki’s help, I’m able to train during both.”

I wished—I really wished—I could tell him and the others about my real two lives, but this was as close as I could safely get. There were just too many ways to pry the truth from even the most loyal of friends and family, and being outed as someone from another world was dangerous. There were people who’d nab me in a heartbeat if there was even a hint that I could provide them with some kind of advantage.

It still might happen one day, and I prayed I’d be strong enough to resist-escape-elude if it ever did. Freedom, I’ve found, was neither easy nor cheap.

###

I refused to get drunk that night and instead dragged the other hunters to the park nearby so that we could pick some drunkard’s ease. My teammates had gotten all hopeful when I’d told them what we’d be doing, but the herbs wouldn’t be for a hangover cure. I wanted them for the roast javelina I planned. I knew by then that it wouldn’t make everything right between Ikfael and me, but I still wanted to make a special meal for her.

So, I shared the herb’s description with the others, and we split up to go looking for it. As for Ikfael, she asked me to drop her off at the large pond in the middle of the park, so I slipped her figurine under the surface and watched as her spirit darted out to become one with the water.

Snow came with me as I went exploring. The park turned out to be rather sizeable, taking up the same space as two or three blocks. Exploring its paths, I wondered if it wasn’t bigger than the park adjacent to Knight Ithia’s fortress.

The shape was mostly rectangular-ish, but uneven so that the south side of the park looked like it had short, stubby legs and a rounded belly. The park also spilled out to the northeast in a neck-and-head shape, giving it all the appearance of a portly kalesk.

Or that was what I imagined, anyway. The Hunter’s Lodge really needed a spell that provided members with an overhead view of the land. It would be so useful.

Snow distracted me from the thought by asking for permission to go hunting. There were apparently flying squirrels among the tops of some of the trees. She blinked away as soon as I said, “Yes.” Not even waiting for Yuki’s translation.

That left me on my own, looking-gathering-searching. The drunkard’s ease was a surprisingly plain-looking plant with a thin stem, long narrow leaves, and tiny yellow flowers—pretty in its own modest way. It didn’t seem to grow in bunches, though, so over the course of about half an hour, I’d only collected a handful.

Along the way, I spotted Mumu and Haol strolling hand-in-hand, winding their way deeper into the park, more interested in each other than gathering herbs. I didn’t blame them; it was a lovely spring evening. The storm threatening to come ashore was still days away, and the clouds from earlier had clumped up nice and pillowy—a contrast to the full moon illuminating them.

Tegen and Teila were more earnest in their efforts. While she looked for drunkard’s ease, he watched over her. Occasionally, he glanced my way too, just keeping tabs. Then, the two of them wandered deeper into the park, and I lost sight of them too.

In fact, the park was empty. Night had fallen, and most of the city’s population was indoors with their families. My spirit eyes picked out only the occasional pedestrian cutting through the park, as well as our usual hidden watchers, but the lodges kept their distance.

I felt myself unwinding, the relentless pace of my thoughts slowing. The hunt for drunkard’s ease was engaging enough to keep me occupied but not so much that I couldn’t relax into it. And I really wasn’t alone, not with Yuki there with me. And the others were just a “phone call” away.

I grinned at the memory of Aluali’s reaction to the news of my tenth talent. Teila hadn’t been the only one who’d shrieked. The family had passed Yuki around so that they could all congratulate me. Gods, they were such good people. Maybe Ikfael was right about sticking closer to home. If I left on an adventure, I wouldn’t be able to protect them anymore.

Fledglings left the nest. I understood that from my previous life, but the consequences of things going wrong on Diaksha were so much more severe than my old world. Billisha and Aluali would never be entirely safe, even with the benefit of qi and mana magics.

A tuft of drunkard’s ease hid underneath the broad fronds of a fern. As I crouched over it, ready to pull the plant free, my hands paused. I sat back in the dirt and really wondered-thought-examined… just what had I been thinking?

Power was safety on Diaksha. The more I grew, the better I’d be able to protect myself and my loved ones. But power also drew power. As such, it was a danger too, and it created a cycle of never having enough to be entirely secure. There would always be someone or something bigger and badder out there.

I’d fallen into leveling up because that was what you did in games. And then once I’d started, there was no stopping. It was fun and intoxicating, and along the way I’d turned myself into an attractive source of light for other creatures looking to grow in power.

Could I stop? Like just stop and get off the treadmill? I wasn’t sure.

The Glen was solidly defended thanks to the combined might of Ikfael, Leilu, the silver wolves, and me. But we’d met the rise in the number and severity of attacks only because we’d grown along with them.

What would happen if we stopped absorbing light, and the attacks continued to get worse? What would happen if the attacks continued, but the attackers were no longer powerful enough to fuel our growth? We’d be sitting pretty, right? Able to defend ourselves and our loved ones with impunity.

Alas, from everything I’d learned, that was a dream. The odds were against you. Throw enough attackers at a target, and one of them was bound to get through. Not to mention the cunning evidenced by the truly powerful creatures out there and the wild ways in which they could stray. Eventually, you’d get countered. As an individual, as a team, as a community—if you lived long enough, it’d happen.

And I would live long enough. If and when I managed to become silvered, I could expect to live for about two hundred years. That was a head-shaking thought, and one that cramped my heart. Bihei and the kids would become dawn for sure, but that would only take them to about one-hundred-twenty years. I’d outlast them.

Maybe, the thought popped into my head, maybe leaving early is a way to keep from getting too close to people I know I’ll lose.

Oh, I didn’t like that idea—not one bit—and the vehemence of my reaction to it meant that I was probably on the right track. Inside me, Yuki spun in circles as they chased down the implications, their thoughts blurring a bit with mine.

I’d already faced once the death of a wife—the dearest person in the world to me, who I loved with every fiber of my being. Could I go through that again with the kids? With… Ikfael?

Underneath all my bravado and all the stories I’d told myself about seeing the world, there was a hidden truth: I’d been afraid of being shattered again. Of having to go through the terrible-awful-miserable process of putting myself back together.

Don’t get me wrong—the desire to adventure was real, which was why it was also a powerful cover for this hidden fear underneath it. God damn it, I thought and punched the ground.

Every time I’d taken a step forward, I found I hadn’t gone nearly as far as I’d thought. For all the work I’d done—the peace I’d made with the things that had happened to me—I continued to run into old scars and places where I’d held onto things that should have long been let go.

With a sigh, I made myself open my hands and wiped at my eyes. I started to stand up, deciding to leave this tuft of drunkard’s ease alone. It was stupid, because someone else would surely come by to pick the herb at some point, but it wouldn’t be now. On this day, there’d be at least one person who gave it grace.

In my old life, people used to say that God didn’t give you challenges you couldn’t handle. That was such a crock of—

The thought died when I turned around and saw Ikiira gleaming in the moonlight, standing upon the water’s surface, gazing up at the sky.