Blake ran back to Froskur and Iver, then knelt down in front of them. He wasn’t sure how long he’d spent gathering venom from the fiend-like parasites, but it’d been long enough to get Froskur to advance.

  “How?” Froskur breathed. “How did it go so quickly?”

  “I’m sorry it hurt so bad,” Blake replied. “But your bones should be fixed.”

  “It doesn’t hurt at all anymore, and—” Froskur pushed himself up. “And I can walk again.”

  “Then we need to get moving.”

  “How did you know that would work, Senior Brother?” Iver asked.

  “I heard some other cultivators talking about it a few months ago, back in the city,” Blake replied, trying to keep the lie as vague as possible. “I had to give it a try.”

  “Give it a try?” Iver demanded. “What if that had not worked? What if it had killed him? What if it has caused irreparable damage to his cultivation?”

  “It hasn’t,” Blake replied. “The skeleton he finished this way is stronger than anything he’d reforged before this process.”

  “How do you know? You’re reckless, Senior Brother.”

  “Because I did it to myself, too,” Blake said. “Not that exact method, but something similar. I might be reckless, but at least I’m not wallowing in this…” He motioned around with a limp finger. “This mediocrity. Cultivators have forgotten how to be strong.”

  “Those are big words for someone at Tempering two,” Iver said. “You’re going too fast. Speed will rob you of overall strength.”

  “Yeah, I’d say the same about most mana cultivators,” Blake replied. “But speed only fails you if you’re unmotivated.”

  “Brothers,” Froskur said, pushing between them. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t feel any blockages in my Bone Meridian, and it feels…clearer than ever, actually. More importantly, my bones have healed, so let’s get moving before some other monster catches us. Something we can’t beat.”

  Blake nodded, then walked back to the ridge, where, given time, he figured they could scale the wall. “Any of you guys have a rope?”

  Iver and Froskur glanced at each other, and reluctantly, Iver reached into his pack and produced a simple rope.

  “I’ll climb to the top and secure the rope, then help you guys up,” Blake said. “It’ll be faster that way.”

  “Faster? Are you—”

  Before Iver could finish, Blake tucked the broken-off claws of the spiker into the straps of his backpack (they’d hopefully be worth something when it came to contribution points), then grabbed the rope from Iver and began scaling the wall.

  Wedging his toes into all the footholds and swinging himself from ledge to ledge, he scampered up the wall. Every so often, he wedged his staff into a crack in the rock and swung off it, until finally, he’d reached the top of the ridge. “I’m up!” he called, then lowered the rope down along the wall.

  Of course he was faster. Blake knew his mist-harvesting days made him much better at climbing than any of the other hunters.

  Reluctantly, Froskur and Iver climbed up to the ridge that had broken off before. Blake couldn’t see the hunters anymore, but they were out there somewhere. He narrowed his eyes and tried to look for them, but only found a slightly bitter bile rising in the back of his throat.

  The hunters had left him to die. If more had come down to help, maybe they could’ve killed that spiker faster and harvested more loot from it. But they only cared about saving themselves. This sect was dying, and everyone inside it knew it. Whether it fell apart from the inside or outside first wouldn’t really matter. Blake just had to get out of here before then.

  “Konuth would’ve jumped down to help us…” Froskur lamented once he reached the top, echoing Blake’s own thoughts.

  “Yeah,” Blake replied. “Guys, I swear. I—I didn’t mean for him to do that. I didn’t know what he was doing or why. And it all happened much too fast.” He drooped his head. “I don’t need forgiveness. But I’m not letting anyone else die on my account.”

  “I don’t know how much more time we even have as a pavilion,” Froskur said. “The Green Bears are too strong, and sooner than later, they’ll just wipe us out.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “But you bought us time,” Iver replied. “I know you are brave, Senior Brother, and there is nothing to forgive you for. It is Silverbeard’s fault.”

  “I—”

  “Besides, you saved us plenty of times down there,” Froskur said. “We have a debt to repay.”

  “How can we repay you, Senior Brother?” Iver asked.

  Blake bundled up the rope and passed it back to Iver. “I don’t need— Actually, wait a moment. Please, you guys can’t tell anyone about what you saw here. My special skeleton, my lightning, none of that happened.”

  “Indeed, I was just about to ask you about the lightning,” Iver said. “That was—”

  “It was just tainted by my fiend-i-ness,” Blake said quickly. “It’s mostly normal lightning, that’s all. Following the direction of my attack.”

  “And the glowing blue…animal?” Froskur said. “I didn’t catch a good glimpse of it.”

  “All of that,” Blake said. “You can’t tell anyone about it. Please. I don’t want more heat on me.”

  “I will keep my lips sealed if you explain what the blue creature was,” Froskur proclaimed. “That is a promise.”

  “Agreed,” Iver said. “I think you should talk to Elder Ulfreld if your lightning has been tainted, because he might have a remedy, but it is not my place. The creature, however…”

  “It was an eiknir,” Blake said.

  “You left it alive?” Froskur asked, incredulous. “Why? Its antler would have to be worth at least four hundred contribution points!”

  Blake chuckled. “Well, I think she’ll end up being worth a lot more than four hundred contribution points, even if she’s only ever a friend.”

  But already, River’s socketed Echo was such a valuable ability. How could he just trade that for contribution points? He could cleanse his channels and heal himself at will. There had to be some limitations, and he’d have to figure that out later.

  “You’re insane,” Froskur said.

  “But wise,” Iver countered. “Eiknir are traditionally an auspicious symbol. I didn’t think you were one for such rituals, Senior Brother.”

  Blake shrugged. “I don’t want to live for nothing. So, what’ll it be? Will you keep my secret? Please, you can’t tell anyone.”

  Aside from people trying to kill River, if they found out that he’d bonded with her Echo before reaching Foundation, that would cause so many other questions.

  “It is a secret,” Iver said, and Froskur nodded as well. “Even from Elder Ulfreld.”

  “Thanks.” Blake turned away from the ledge. “Now let’s get moving. We have some catching up to do.”

  ~ ~ ~

  The three of them sprinted along the ridge as fast as they could, but eventually, they had to slow down to a jog. Ulfreld’s party had been moving faster than before, and the spiker seemed to have spooked them.

  It only made Blake more frustrated. The hunters just left them behind. Sure, it was safer that way, but where was the loyalty? It was every man for himself already, and as soon as everyone accepted it, the sect was going to implode.

  You knew it would come to this, Ethbin said. But I must remind you: your one pavilion is not the entire hunters’ sect. The Pavilion will implode, perhaps, but not the Red Pines.

  “Okay, you knew what I meant,” Blake hissed back.

  Precision is important.

  After a few seconds, Ethbin added, Stay with the Hunters while it benefits you. That was the plan. And then when it no longer benefits you, you must leave.

  Blake glanced back at Froskur and Iver. Could he just leave them?

  Your path is a choice, Ethbin replied. I told you before: the way of the knight is often lonely. You will have to leave some people behind. You will outgrow them. You already have. To keep up with you, they would have to Harvest themselves, drop down to Condensation, and restart their cultivation from the ground up. And you know as well as I: they have no appetite for that sort of effort.

  They didn’t catch up with the rest of the hunters until after they’d left the mountain pass and entered the red-leaf forest again. Most of the leaves had fallen by now, and a cool breeze was blowing through, making the entire forest tremble. The days were getting noticeably shorter, now.

  When they finally rejoined the group, Ulfreld rushed out toward them and said incredulously, “Blessings of the Manafather. You made it.”

  The rest of the hunters continued on, but Ulfreld stopped them. He looked over the three of them and looked at Froskur while saying, “Congratulations on your advancement, Junior Brother. But I do not understand how the three of you defeated a Foundation-level spiker.”

  Blake gulped, then began the story they’d all agreed on: “I didn’t do much of the work, sir. Elder, sir.” He cleared his throat. “Detil sacrificed himself to give us an opportunity to land the finishing blow.”

  “When Brother Bjarke says ‘us,’ he really means him,” Froskur said. “Iver and I did little to help, and we shouldn’t share in the contribution points.”

  “That’s not true,” Blake said. “Iver landed a good hit with a fireball or two—”

  “If my Senior Brother insists, I would only take up to a quarter of the contribution points,” Iver said.

  Blake exhaled slowly. “Of course.”

  “I will remind you that just two claws from a spiker is only worth only about forty contribution points,” Ulfreld said. “The real treasure is the spikes from its back.”

  Blake winced. “Apologies. But hey, at least we got something out of it.”

  He was more excited to begin tempering his muscles with the parasite venom, anyway, and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling faintly.

  “Indeed. Let us just return to the pavilion without any other mishaps.”