Chapter Forty-One: Undercurrents

Chapter Forty-One: Undercurrents

Tom, Val and their familiars left Corins Grove that afternoon, and were back at the oak by sundown the next day.

Tom felt fantastic. He had manifested all his skills. He was adapting well to his new life. He had friends, and no bullies. The only things he had to do were fill out the last pesky requirements for his Quiet under Moonlight and Wings of Grief skills. They were about to head out to the Hunters Gathering, and there they would hopefully come up with some kind of plan for combating the orcish infestation. All was good.

They took the rest of the evening to unload their haul from Corins Grove, and pack for their trip to the True Hall. They would be gone for over a month and a half, perhaps two, this time, the trip being three weeks one way.

They packed light, and made good use of Toms spatial storage to carry along some perishables they usually wouldnt bother with. Theyd discovered that anything placed in it was also temporally suspended, allowing for foodstuffs, delicate herbs, and the like, to remain fresh.

Hed also noticed that the random gathering function of the skill had been hard at work too. In one corner of the storage, a tidy wee pile of assorted mana-infused natural items was growing. He removed any that werent of any particular value, and left a handful that wouldnt be ruined outside of storage, and put them in his corner under the oak.

They set out the next morning, and winter turned out to journey with them.Read latest chapters at nov(e)lbin.com Only

They set a course directly northwest, planning on following until they hit the northern trade road, crossing it, and then heading straight north to the hall.

The first week of their journey was miserable. It rained, slow and steady, without pause. Toms clothes were sodden, his armour chafed, and they slept every night in the least soaking space they could find. His only consolation was that his Idealist constitution kept him from hypothermia, and that the rain seemed to keep most of the monsters in whatever den they called home.

They were bedraggled facsimiles of their summer selves, when, a week later, the rain finally stopped. Tom was overjoyed. He had begun to forget what it was like to be dry. His relief, however, was short lived, for the temperature began to drop. Every morning, they woke to frost covered bedrolls.

Just when Tom thought it couldnt get any worse, the third week turned out to be a combination of wet and cold, raining periodically, and frosty throughout.

Despite the inclement weather, Val kept up with a series of unending tasks for him. Finding caches of food set aside by enterprising animals. Learning how to safely navigate a small, frozen lake. Learning how to maintain his gear through unrelenting misery, though Val did accede to having Tom keep her bowstave and strings out of the wet in his storage.

Once, they came across a low cave set in a mossy hillside. Val had him spend half a day exploring it, saying that Smitten had said he would find it enlightening.

As it happens, it was a den. When Tom approached, he immediately noticed a pungent, musky scent. Sesames nose wiggled, and his ears pricked up.

Upon investigation, they found a huge male brown bear hibernating in the cave. Even knowing it was there from the scent, it still gave Tom a fright as his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he made out its form. Sesame seemed merely curious.

It was smaller than his familiar, brown in colouration instead of black. He was glad Sesame didnt need to hibernate. Not having his familiar for support for several months a year would be highly inconvenient.

He and Sesame settled down at the cave mouth, and Tom spent several hours watching the bear, pondering his familiar, and his bond with him. Looking at a true, flesh and blood bear, he was astounded by the differences, and similarities.

For all intents and purposes, Sesame looked much the same. But there were differences. His size, for one. His coat was thicker, denser, too. His claws were slightly longer than the natural bears, as well, and hed be willing to bet his teeth were, too.

Hunter-Gatherer exposed more contradictions. The natural bear felt more alive to his life sense, and yet looking at Sesame, with his intelligent eyes, he couldnt help but feel that was wrong. Sesame also had a much higher concentration of mana throughout his body too.

When they finally stood, and made their way back to Val, Tom decided Smitten had been right. It had been an enlightening few hours, mulling over the nature of a bear. He felt closer to his familiar for the experience.

Sesame sent happiness thrumming down their bond. The bear had been getting smarter and smarter, as the World-provided intelligence adapted to his new form.

Happy, happy, happy, he sent to Tom, and through a subtext of complex emotions managed to convey that he was glad he had Tom, and was not alone like the bear they had watched. Tom gave him the exact same feeling straight back.

As they neared a fortnight into their journey, they passed the great northern trade road leading to the Nails, and beyond them, the Rust Sea.

Late one evening, a few days later, they were interrupted as they were setting up wardpoles around a shallow overhang in an escarpment. Tom noticed a mana-dense form slinking through the trees towards them.

It had far more mana concentrated in it than most creatures of the Deep, but simultaneously didnt quite feel alive to his senses.

A familiar, he concluded, one at a much higher tier than Sesame, from the feel of it, more akin to Smitten, or Scorn.

You must have something Scriber wants, if hes taken his time to make you a storage item already.

Its a skill, actually, Tom said, taking a pot and some vegetables from his storage as well. Manifested it about a month ago. I dont know how I got by without it, now.

Goddess, man! Dont tell him, then. Hell tie you up and never let you out of his sight!

Told him the same thing, Val said, with a grin. He thinks Im joking.

Jace gave him a wide grin, and Tom knew he would have to haggle for his freedom next he met the enchanter.

Val and Jace caught up about more inconsequential things while Tom cooked the stew. Jace related how a skulk of mist-attuned foxes were becoming a growing nuisance over the last year.

Jace ranged across a section in the southwest of the Deep, out of Mares Field. The foxes had started off as a curiosity, rarely seen, and not a threat. They had been steadily increasing in number, though, and Jace was worried they would reach village-killer status. He and Leta had been trying to pin down their den, but the creatures were elusive.

Val relayed their tracking and killing of the forest drake, and Toms progress in general. To hear her tell it, he had been doing extremely well. Pride welled in his chest.

They ate their meal, and talk turned to more serious matters.

This Gathering, Im worried about it, Val. If weve got orcs in the Deep then something needs to be done, and sooner rather than later. But The Lord, well, you know how he is. But hes been growing more erratic, if you could believe it.

You know Honeyfield ranges near me. Ran into him a few months back. Never liked the creep, but the way he was he was smug as a schoolyard noble. Im not sure what those lunatics are planning, but I doubt its anything good.

Scriber said as much. We can only take it as it comes, Jace.

Im saying, Val, I worry the time for talking has passed us by. I think things have gotten ahead of us, and if its true, they might have called us all together for other reasons. We might need to have a plan.

Surely its not that far gone? Val said, surprised. The Lord and his cronies are bloodthirsty, sure, but the bond between Hunters has always held. Some squabbles, certainly, but never a schism.

Just saying, Val. Better prepared than dead. Just cant see why theyd gather in us as they know we wont follow whatever nonsense theyre brewing, unless they want to make sure we cant muddle it.

Val frowned, opening her mouth.

Just a feeling, is all. Just be on your toes, alright?

Val gave Jace a searching look, but eventually nodded.

Glad to have you here, either way. Youre a sorely needed voice of reason, he paused, scratching his chin. And if things turn sideways, Im damned sure I wouldnt want to be the one to try stop Val Carver from leaving.

Tom lay awake long into the night. He was missing a huge amount of subtext for the Hunters. He didnt understand the currents that ran between them, the history they shared, and it made him nervous. Jace made it sound like they were walking into a trap.

From what he gathered, there were two main factions in the Hunters. There were those who were resentful at being cast out of Wayrest, and those were also the ones who generally happened to have been cast out for a good reason. The others were like Val and Tom, and Jace, he supposed. Either cast out for manifesting a taboo Ideal, even if they were sound of character, or those who made a single, tragic mistake, and were exiled for it, but werent necessarily bad people.

The second group also had their fair share of resentment, for Wayrest, and the Council, and the Church, but they tended to be more reasonable. Even so, it muddied the waters of the Hunters even further.

Tom was just glad he would have no real part to play in the Gathering. That the orcs were in the Deep was an established fact for the Hunters. It was not his word they would be relying on to make any decisions, as it was with the Council.

He should be able to just keep his head down and follow Vals lead.

With any luck, no one would pay him any attention at all.