Book 2 Chapter 42

  Oskar lay awake, covered in sweat and unable to sleep, and only partly because of the heat. A gritty film of sweat coated Oskar’s skin as he twisted in the stifling air of the tent. The sheer tent walls did little to block the desert’s relentless furnace blast as the wind had picked up inside the valley to something he’d never experienced. Each inhalation carried the sting of scorched air, and even the constant Wayspring water he was drinking felt like it wasn’t enough. Tonight, the heat was almost a living, malevolent thing.

  He hadn’t really wanted to share a camp with the older Kobold, who Fox had said was called Myelome. Especially after walking for a few hours hearing her complain under her breath about everything from their walking pace- at one point too fast, at another, too slow- to Penny, who she called “a big rat.” Thankfully, Fox had pulled her aside to save her after that one.

  No one is gonna win any points in this group complaining about Penny. Penny is awesome and everyone knows it.

  After her talk with Fox, Myelome stopped complaining aloud but began glaring at Sara, who was stretched out atop Touwon’s pack. Occasionally, the old Kobold would let out a loud sneeze, but the whole thing was an act.

  She walked feet from the cat for hours before she decided to be allergic to her.

  The sneezing act got her no one’s attention but the big calico’s. Sara had a pretty good glare, too, and to Oskar’s amusement, uncharacteristically stayed awake the whole time just to mean mug the bitter old Kobold.

  When they finally came to a stop, she spent ten minutes making a show of not drinking the Wayspring water because the hose had been in Penny’s mouth, and Oskar almost snapped at seeing Penny’s hurt face at her words. Thankfully, food and petting had fixed the Pangolor’s hurt feelings, but Oskar’s willingness to put up with Myelome was being held together only by his respect for Fox and his willingness to help her find her people.

  The wiry old Kobold had eaten almost as much as everyone else combined, and despite difficulties acquiring food, it was almost facinating to watch her pack it in. Eventually Touwon shook his head and hugged his bag defensively, unwilling to share any more food. Myelome had grumbled and then wandered off, presumably to find somewhere to sleep.

  “Myelome? What an awful name,” he’d said to Fox, later. “Honestly. I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.”

  “It is more of a title,” she explained, her eyes tired behind her Goggles. “There are multiple Myelomes. They serve as guardians to the Chief. It is a new practice.”

  “New, why?”

  “Most chiefs are more than capable of taking care of themselves, and so the tribe serves as enough protection. Bene, though… he is more of a scholar. His mind is what he used to protect and hide what is left of our people from the Culling, and his knowledge will be invaluable as we rebuild,” Fox answered shortly.

  Oskar didn’t know if it was the Chief or the Myelome that she didn’t want to talk about it, but he couldn’t let the name go for reasons he couldn’t explain.

  Just hearing her say it gave Oskar the creeps.

  It’s just a name, why is it bothering me so much?

  He walked a few minutes with a clear look of distaste, sure he was being dramatic until Erik drifted over and piped in with, “I get it, man. I was happy to tear into her. The second she dropped that attitude on Fox, I was primed, dude. Did I go too hard on her?” Erik raised his eyebrows in question, but Oskar threw him a grin and shook his head.

  “Nah, man. After the mongrel comment, the gloves were off.”

  Now, laying in his tent trying to sleep, the old, wiry Kobold’s uneven snores were audible to him. Her head must have been facing him to be making so much noise. The old Kobold was in the spare tent Touwon had put up for her an hour ago while she’d waited impatiently.

  Her uneven snoring was an unfamiliar rhythm in a world that was just now beginning to feel like home, and it grated at him. Oskar’s eyes opened with each rustle her sleeping form made, senses warning him of danger amidst the relentless chirp of desert insects Penny hadn’t yet hunted down. His time as a Marine and his time in this desert had taught him caution, and ignoring the feeling felt like a bad idea.

  It was easy to understand why she made him so uneasy. Trust was a currency here, and she’d not earned a single cent. Oskar had taken the first watch to clear his head, and Penny had walked with him in leu of clearing out the local wildlife.

  She probably can sense me just as well as I can sense her. I wish she was a little more cuddly, though. Her snuggling up to me is like sleeping with a very sweet pinecone anvil, Oskar thought as he’d reached down and scratched her under the chin, which had provoked a kwinn of pleasure from the Pangolor.

  But now I’m sitting here in this Devil’s butt-crack of a valley trying to get some rest. And it ain’t happening.

  A wipe of his scarf dried a sheen of sweat from his brow, the rough cloth doing little to relieve the stinging itch of his skin. The Wayspring healed sunburn had nothing to do with it, either.

  It’s her. What was she even doing out here?

  The old Kobold claimed she was scouting and got separated from her group. Hearing that the Kobolds were alive and relatively well had overshadowed any other questions Fox might have had, and Oskar didn’t press the issue.

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  She wouldn’t have given me attitude, I wouldn’t have gotten a straight answer, and I didn’t want to spoil Fox’s good mood.

  She did say she could lead them to the others, and he guessed that was enough.

  Oskar had seen enough of the world to know the type of person this Myelome was, though. No gratitude for Fox saving her or the shelter and mountain of food she’d been given.

  She has the eyes of someone who feels owed everything she’s given and would take the shortest path she could to get it.

  The moon shifted, painting a sliver of light across the tent flap. Oskar squinted. Was there movement outside, dark against the sand? Or a trick of the heat playing on his tired eyes? He scanned the area, not trusting the ability much though.

  He gripped his spear, sitting up slowly, the wood a familiar weight in his hand.

  Fox and Erik were standing watch at the edge of the clearing. Fox caught his eye and shook her head at him. The two were talking low, and Erik looked up at Oskar, still sitting up gripping his spear in his hand. As the two went to walk around the camp, Erik mouthed, “Everything is fine, Oss. Sleep,” and mimicked laying his head on a hand pillow, the motion strange with only one hand.

  Frustrated, Oskar lay back down, this time pulling the liner off and cleaning it before wrapping it up in some cloth from… of course… Touwon’s bag that worked as well as a ziplock bag at keeping sand out. When Oskar had asked why they didn’t make underwear out of the cloth, the Kobold looked horrified and walked away, glancing back at Oskar with disgust and shaking his head, leaving Oskar more confused than ever.

  He lay there, breathing deep to settle down, but even with the hot air blowing through the valley, he could easily hear Myelome’s every breath. She was muttering something between snores, and the sound of her was the only sound he could hear over the wind since even the few bugs had taken refuge.

  An hour passed, and he finally admitted that tonight…sleep, and to be oblivious to Myelome’s snores… was an impossible luxury. The desert was screaming its hot, dry breath, and in the thick feeling wind, Oskar waited.

  For dawn, for an attack, he wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t sleep. Oskar lay there for hours. He’d heard Erik and Fox wake Touwon, and Sara-without-an-H mewed a yawn out, but was on Touwon’s shoulder as he walked off, the cat comically large on the Kobold’s small, solid form.

  If I’m not gonna sleep, I’m at least gonna get some practice in.

  Oskar began circulating Sora around him, and laying on the sand as he was, even through the tent, he felt Talau respond with impressive ease. A moment later, Rakiyu pulled everything into synergy, and he felt himself relax, tension leaving his shoulders.

  The Resonant Ward encircled him, and with his eyes closed, he tried to ignore distractions and focus on his magic.

  He gently expanded the Ward and his world grew around him. What was great was his ability to pick out individual things as he scanned and practiced his focus was growing rapidly. He began trying to feel out the ability to add in Cryon, and it was possible, but still super inefficient. Even cooling the Sora directly around him was tiresome. He knew he needed to figure out what was bottlenecking his progression to C Rank before he really dove into advanced Concepts.

  Now that I’m really paying attention to it, the Ward’s range is moving outward as I exhale, and inward as I inhale. It’s almost imperceptible, but I can feel the resonance with the world vibrating like a harmonic music note.

  In fact, it was now almost as natural as breathing. That gave him the idea that maybe his bottleneck wasn’t just him or this world, but his relationship with it. The more he toyed with that idea, the more convinced he became. Rakiyu did its thing, even when he wasn’t using it, but that magic originated from inside him. He never felt like he needed to hold it inside, because it was just there.

  Sora and Talau, being external, were different… or so he’d thought, but he was now wondering why he thought Sora and Talau needed to be contained to be used. He’d always grabbed the magic and forced it to do what he wanted, which was fine, but now he was wondering if he could access the magic without grabbing it so tightly. Doing so weakened it; not allowing it to still be and do what it was made to do.

  All that does is separate it from its very nature. That’s not very Druidy of me.

  Loosening his grip on Sora, the smooth glass Ward roughened noticeably, and he almost reacted by grabbing the magic to keep it from escaping. He knew how dangerous that was with Rakiyu, and “losing control of wild magic” seemed like a bad idea as well, but unlike Spiritual magic, it didn’t escape. It just didn’t want to be contained.

  The Ward thickened considerably as more Sora than ever before willingly joined the Resonating Ward. It wasn’t quite as glassy as before, but that was just a matter of time. To his senses, the whole spell felt almost like a natural phenomenon, and he wondered if, without seeing it, anyone could even detect the ability now.

  Grinning, Oskar immersed himself fully in the magic, letting it do his will in its own way. Excited to experiment in the air, he was focusing hard enough that he’d momentarily let slip his situational awareness, and the PUB’s congratulations were a further distraction.

  // Circle gets the Square. Awesome job! Just a heads up, though, you have a fan… ah, too late. //

  Oskar barely had time to read that last of the message from the PUB when a stinging slap against his cheek broke his focus, and his eyes locked in on the aged face of Myelome, literally snarling at him from a foot away. He felt lines of scratches running face down his face where she had struck him. He could smell her breath, and it smelled like a sickening sweetness. The smell made him feel sick, and he could feel saliva building in the back of his throat like he was about to be sick.

  This close to morning, he’d felt the others beginning to move around. Touwon and Sara were nearby, and Fox was filling up her waterskins with the Wayspring spicket.

  Erik was now staring over at Myelome in outrage as he began to shuffle out of his tent to- no doubt- attempt to stomp a mudhole in the old Kobold.

  Oskar didn’t initially register her words, focusing on the fact that because he didn’t see her as a definite enemy, the Resonating Ward, which was still humming around him, did not defend him from the strike.

  Interesting that it didn’t even warn me, though. That’s an interesting loophole I probably need to figure out. Every ability uses a bit of my own will. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s all connected. Which is why I should have caught on earlier about that little trick with Sora, Oskar thought before the PUB could start in with smug messages.

  This time, when Myelome started screaming at him, the words registered.

  “You stupid pink idiot. Stop doing that, you are playing with magic not meant for you. Brekke!” She pulled back her scrawny hand to hit him again.

  Oskar blocked the strike with his right forearm, and with a surge of Sora, launched her straight up into the sky.

  Her clawed foot caught the edge of his tent and set her spinning, and she was fully wrapped in the tent by the time she’d done a rotation or three.

  In horror, Oskar watched an insane amount of vomit spraying out in a spiral pattern as she spun upward. In disgusted panic, he pushed Sora out to sweep away as much as he could from the gallon of puke raining down.