Chapter Thirty-Four: Hunters’ Gathering

Chapter Thirty-Four: Hunters’ Gathering

Soon enough, they were being handed steaming bowls by Val. She joined them sitting on their stools a moment later. Sesame stayed where he was, but his nose was twitching at the smells. Smitten curled up against Vals feet, and Scorn sat in his usual spot, looking supremely disinterested with everything. Mice were scattered all about the room; some kept popping up in places that Tom had no idea how theyd managed to get to.

I think youll be interested in this one, Val said to Scriber while nodding her head at Tom.

Suffering, Silence and Survival.

Scriber unhurriedly finished his mouthful of stew, then carefully set his spoon in his bowl and his bowl on the ground.

Thats three Ideals that Ive never gotten to use in my work. Survival, eh? Now that is interesting. I dont believe Ive ever heard of that before. Tell me, what skills have you manifested under it? He turned slightly to face Tom.

Tom explained his two skills hed manifested so far for Survival. Scriber asked him more and more detailed questions, and Tom did his best to answer. He wondered why the enchanter didnt simply send him a party request, but then, he may not have wanted Tom nosing through his skillset, or if he was already in a party, it might have been full. Eight, for some unknown reason, was the most any given party link could sustain.

Scriber was by far the most interested in Survival. It seemed strange to Tom, but he explained that several of the Hunters had Ideals similar to Suffering, and Silence, even if hed never met someone with it, had been around in years gone by. The enchanter had apparently gotten to tinker with several Silence-imbued enchantments before.

Survival, however, was completely new to him. Hed dealt with all manner of adjacent Ideals, things like: Life, Endurance, Woodscraft, Fighting, Animals - even Killing - but his Survival was unique in that it contained hints of all the above concepts.

Eventually, the questions trailed off. Scriber appeared to be deep in thought, and returned to his meal. Val gave Tom a small smile, and gestured to him for patience. They ate the rest of their stew and Tom cleaned up for them, and when he returned to his seat, the enchanter spoke. Val gave him a knowing look.

I would like to extend an offer to you. The same I have extended to every Hunter out here. I would like to make use of your mana for imbuing, and in return, I will provide you with enchanted gear.

He paused, looking at Tom. Tom gave him a small nod to indicate he should continue.

The terms are simple. You provide me mana whenever I ask, and will not ask if it would endanger your life. You get enchantments. I can only provide so much, though; my time is limited.

It was a staggeringly good deal, one which Tom immediately accepted. Any enchantments, even very basic ones merely altering the material properties of an item, usually done by apprentice enchanters, came with exorbitant costs. Toms mana would refill; Scriber was essentially offering his work more or less for free. And yet, the expression on his face when Tom accepted made it seem as though he was the one who had made out like a bandit from the deal. The happiness and satisfaction were the strongest emotions the man had shown, so far.

First, I would be grateful if you could imbue some mana from each of your Ideals into these. He handed Tom three curious, rusty looking balls, scrawled all over with runes.

Tom had never tried imbuing before, but he figured it out easily enough. Each Idealist only had a single mana pool, and their skills created automatic channels for it through their Ideals. Imbuing was similar, except instead of activating a skill, you simply pushed the mana towards one of your Ideals and then out through your body, and that Ideal would aspect it. Doing it without an object inscribed with imbuing runes would do absolutely nothing but waste mana.

In short order, Tom had filled the balls with mana. One glowed a very soft pink, the next radiated a thin-looking, dark light, and the third glowed brown. Scriber grinned as the three balls were passed back to him.

Now, what kind of enchantments would you like? Scriber asked.

Toms brow furrowed in thought. He had never really expected to be able to afford enchantments, and had never considered what ones he might want to use.

Val broke in gently, then. Hes fresh as a daisy, Scriber. He could use some wardpoles, Id say. A good knife wouldnt go amiss either. And, if youve got any handy, something with one of your life-glyphs would be much appreciated.

Youll pay it back. Dont worry about that. At a preliminary guess, the enchantments I might make with Survival could save hundreds of lives. Thousands, even. Imagine if every Hunter, every Guard, every Watchman, all had armour that was not only more durable itself, but could make them tougher? Possibly even heal them? Theyd be the first enchantments of their kind The World has ever seen. Well worth one tiny bar of soulsteel, if you ask me.

Tom nodded, accepting that the gift was genuinely made.

Now, thats sand-attuned drake leather on the handle. Should stick to your palm like glue. Material runes, sharpness mainly, all along the edge. Weight stabilising and self-repair on the handle and head. Theres a series of open runes linked throughout. Essentially, all they do is allow the axe to channel your mana to its edge.

The axe is simple, overall. Scriber sounded almost offended at the notion. But it was what he requested. No closed runes; none of that fancy shit, he recited in a mocking tone.

Tom was a little disappointed. He had already been daydreaming about running into battle with a burning axe, or one that could shoot lightning, or something equally fantastical.

No, its perfect, said Tom, and he meant it. Even though he wouldnt have minded some elemental abilities. Thank you again, Scriber. Anything you need, any time.

Scriber just nodded absently at him, and turned to Val.

Ill be heading off in the morning. The Lords called a Gathering, two months from now, he told her. Youre not the only one whos seen myths and legends walking the Deep. He wants us organised to do something about it.

I understand, said Val, her eyebrows pinched together in a thoughtful frown. Whats he planning?

You know what hes like, Val. No one knows. Scriber let out a sigh. Equal odds on him declaring war on the orcs, or marching us all back to Wayrest and demanding they let us in.

The fool, Val said, more venom in her voice than Tom had ever heard. Hell get us all killed. I bet the Hangmans all for it. Honeyfield must be positively gleeful. And the Hag, stirring the pot too, I wager.

Right on all counts, he said. We need more calm heads. Jace and I wont be enough. We need your support, Val.

Youll have it, you lump! Val said, offended. Of course youll have it. When have I ever gone with the Lord?

Sorry, sorry, he waved his hands at her in a conciliatory gesture. Times are strange, is all. Things are changing. Ever since Bear died, that bloodthirsty bunch have held the power. Now I dont know what might happen.

Val reached over and patted Scribers knee. We will carry Bears torch. Theyll listen to a more reasonable plan. They cant be that far gone.

I hope youre right, Val. For all our sakes, I hope youre right.

Tom was confused. Hed never heard of any of these people before. He assumed the Lord they were talking about was the infamous Lord of Blood, but aside from that, he had no clue who those they spoke of were. He guessed hed find out at this so-called Gathering, if not before.

Toms eyes began to grow heavy, and he excused himself, thanking Scriber again, before retreating to his bedroll.

He fell asleep to thoughts of orcs prowling the Deep.