Whelp’s lip split apart under the force of Brood’s punch. He staggered, wiping his mouth. His tusks were just budding, barely poking out over his lips. His opponent crouched in a ready stance, waiting for Whelp to make a move. To make a mistake. Brood was lucky; her tusks had come in early, her skin was already as thick as it would be when she reached adulthood. She had every advantage.
Whelp threw out a tentative fist, which was blocked swiftly. Brood grinned at him, then shot out a kick to his stomach. Whelp turned to the side and her foot barely missed, toenails scraping against his abdomen. He grabbed at her leg, and managed to get a grip on it. It was slippery with sweat.
He pushed upward — get her off balance, knock her down. She was more mature, but he was the larger of the two. But when he pushed, she didn’t go up as he had thought she would. She pushed forward, downward, and his grip slipped entirely.
The blow to his chest knocked him backward, and Brood pounced, landing on top of him. She grabbed his shoulders and shoved him into the ground. His head bounced against sand, vision going blurry. She lifted his head up with one hand, and punched with the other. A flash of light, then pain. Everything went black.
When he woke, Whelp couldn’t see out of his left eye. Scorch helped him to his feet, supporting him when he staggered. She told him that Brood was now Torment — the bout had given her the incentive to discover her Name.
Whelp had only discovered shame.
Learn managed to create a fire after three days of non-stop effort. He was so surprised when it worked that he dropped it, and had to rush to stamp it out before it had a chance to spread. When he told Magister Lrfshmn, the goblin just cackled, and set him to more work.
Over the past month, the goblin had taught him a myriad of skills that were, apparently, “an important and integral part of Satisfaction’s school of magic, and you’d bloody well better stop asking stupid questions, foolish apprentice!” When he asked Gawain, who had the quarters next to his, if he was learning the same things, the elf was surprised. Apparently, Magister Lrfshmn’s teaching methods were quite different from Magister Aethyn’s, the latter preferring intense oversight and tests.
Still, Learn was discovering new things, and each task he had to master energized him in a way that was almost addictive. Metallurgy, horticulture, pottery — Learn was a novice, but his understanding of the tasks had grown exponentially.
He finally understood the mess that was Lrfshmn’s office; that was their shared office now. The goblin found so many different things necessary that it was overwhelming, but he could find nearly anything within the confines of that small room. Learn didn’t have the radar-sense of the crotchety scholar, but he could find the occasional component lying around.
Learn spent a lot of his time in the small office now. He had managed to find a stool that he could perch upon without breaking, and sit he did, performing the various tasks that Magister Lrfshmn commanded him to do. The two had developed a comfortable rappoire. Lrfshmn would ask something, Learn would answer, then the pair would lapse into silence for long stretches of time. They focused on their tasks, breaking the silence only to discuss what they were doing if necessary.
Learn was by himself today. The old goblin had an administrative meeting that he was forced to attend, apparently the worst part of the job, judging from the invective Lrfshmn spouted. He was working on his alchemy, the first of many promised forays into Satisfaction’s school.
He was grinding a powder to be used in one of Magister Lrfshmn’s experiments — in all likelihood, it was an explosive. Learn was proceeding carefully, wetting the ingredients in the mortar as he ground it down fine. With each splash of water, it emitted a sharp smell, of sulfur and charcoal. It was foul, rancid.
Very carefully, Learn poured the powder into a small glass vial, then corked it shut. He checked the list that the goblin had left for him — though he wasn’t there, he wasn’t going to let Learn get away with wasting his time as an apprentice.
Once he was done with the powder, he had to devise a new spell, a daily practice now. Learn was starting to get the hang of the concept, and the abundance of materials in the office meant that he could come up with a spell that could do nearly anything he could think of — so long as it was small. Learn was new at Satisfaction’s school of magic, but despite that, Lrfshmn had told him that he was a particularly weak spellcaster.
Learn didn’t think it was meant as a criticism, but it stung like one anyway. It was a depressing truth; but he could not avoid it. Pretending it wasn’t so would not make it any less. To maximize his abilities, he had to accept that he had a worse position.
It was likely because he was an orc. He wasn’t as in tune with his Command as someone from one of the smallfolk who had been raised thinking in the patterns that Satisfaction instilled in them. Where he thought in bricks and corners, they thought in webs and swirls.
Being weaker, though, wasn’t a cause for shame. It had taken many years for that to sink in. Being weak is a cause for work, for pushing one’s self to higher and higher heights. In this way, starting at a disadvantage was almost a blessing.
Where was it… he rifled around on the alchemy table. Aha! His hand closed around two small, dusty lumps of charcoal. Even though his powers were weaker, that didn’t mean that his ideas were. Satisfaction appreciated a clever mind, and his offerings were singularly unique. He would build himself a place here, brick by brick, idea by idea.
Learn placed one of the lumps onto the table, shoving away the clutter to reveal the pockmarked, stained table underneath. He focused on the charcoal — a lump of dirt, a small chunk of powder, nothing more. But Learn had read something interesting, in one of the dusty tomes laying open. Charcoal was common, useful, but nothing special. Apply pressure to it…
Learn clenched his fist, and hissed out through his teeth, a high-pitched sound. Through trial and error, he had discovered that a verbal component didn’t need to be verbal. It was another tool to focus through, a prism through which will could be directed into a force. All of the components were as this was — with enough focus and power, a caster could forego one of the components; the most powerful could get away with cutting two, if they had a material focus.
Learn felt a thrill, a twinge, in the back of his mind, and the charcoal began to fold in on itself, shrinking before his eyes. The sooty color faded away, pulling back as a crystalline structure appeared and light began reflecting out.
He took a deep breath. Small workings still took a lot of effort for him, and he could generally only do one a day without feeling like he was going to pass out. He picked up the now-diamond — then dropped it. It was hot! He stuck the offended finger into his mouth, frowning.
Why is it hot? Something had happened that he didn’t understand. He would have to remember to ask Magister Lrfshmn about this later. For now, though he was satisfied. The sun was likely going down, and Learn wanted to prepare for sleep. Cautiously, he poked the diamond — it had cooled enough for him to grab, and he pocketed it, and headed off to the bathhouse.
——
The warm water still astounded Learn. He had begged for an explanation as soon as he learned about it. Magister Lrfshmn did not tell him, preferring instead to yell about “naked orcs shouldn’t be asking questions about the bloody plumbing, put some damn clothes on Learn!” Standing under a stream of water and hot steam, Learn lost track of time, entirely taken with the sensations he was feeling.
He had grown more used to the showers and baths — he preferred the former, since he had to squeeze to fit into the tubs — but he still appreciated the experience, especially once he had researched the pump and heating mechanisms. It was a wonderful time to think, to ponder. Occasionally, he would hear one of the sponsors in an adjacent shower, singing songs from their youths. They were usually horribly off-key.
He was walking back from the showers to his quarters, towel wrapped around his head. An unforeseen consequence of the cleaning was that his traditional braids came undone, and he had spent a lot of time trying to coax them back into place. His hair was coarse, and thick, and kinky, and it had been a task learning how to braid them again from scratch.
He opened the door to his room, and whispered “light.” With a twist of his wrist, the light came on in his room. It was by far the easiest spell for him to work, the constant practice had made it simple. Lrfshmn had forced him to practice it, turning it off and on over and over again until Learn felt like passing out.
There was a sheet of parchment on his bed. Unusual. Careful to not drip on his bed, he picked up the sheet by one corner. He unfolded it and began to read.
“Pebbleskin,
There’s an army coming to Shrike. Someone managed to unify every clan in the Red Desert. I think you know him, yeah? Conquer.”
Learn felt a chill run down his spine.
“And guess what? I managed to figure out what he’s coming for. I think you can guess too.
“You’re in trouble, Learn. I think that you could use a friend. After all, it wouldn’t be good if the populace learned that you’re the target of the single largest migration of Pebbleskin barbarians in history.
“All I ask is for a bit of your time, and the use of some of your special skills. Nothing illegal, nothing dangerous. Just a few favors, in exchange for your safety.
“Tomorrow, at the Crossing Fountain. Come alone.”
Learn sat, stunned. He felt like he had been dunked in ice water. His instinct was to rebel against the letter, to pretend that it was a ruse, something trying to trick him. Hide it away and pretend that it didn’t exist, that he hadn’t read it.
But how would they know about Conquer? There was too much detail for it to be faked. He didn’t remember telling anyone about his family. The wounds were still too fresh, and talking about it was like raking his chest with hot coals.
His mind was spinning, trying to find traction in a path of thought. He forced himself up, and began the rote process of drying and getting dressed. If his father had really managed to conquer the entire Red Desert, then nowhere in the Spread Lands was safe. He had fled months ago, and it had only been recently where he had begun to let himself believe that he was safe.
That he was free.
Learn laid down on his bed, brain firing like lightning in the night sky. Everything he had was ready to slip away. He couldn’t deal with this on his own.
He didn’t sleep.
——
Celeste Amaya pulled her terrycloth cloak tighter around her. Though the strong stone walls of the building kept the rain out, the accompanying chill managed to steal its way inside.
She sneezed — damn it, a cold was the last thing she needed. At least she was done with her paperwork, and she could rest. She had thought that being Miles’ second would give her less busywork, not more. True, she didn’t go on guard duty anywhere near as often, but she had so much desk work.
She missed the guard duty, truth be told. That was why she had begged to accompany that caravan all those weeks ago. It had been, she thought, one of her last chances for some real, good, fieldwork. She had thought right. Luck was on her side when those bandits attacked. It was like a going-away gift, fanfare for the finality of her time as an active combatant. Now she was in charge. She would be the one giving orders, not the one swinging the sword. More responsibility — and less.
She was shaken from her thoughts when the door in front of her burst open. She reached for her side sword, feet shifting into a ready stance, arms up — then relaxed.
Learn was standing, dripping, breathing deeply, eyes wide. Something was wrong. The big guy was scared. Celeste gripped her sword, not quite pulling it out of its sheath.
“Learn, what are you doing here? What’s going on?” She asked, carefully, keeping a measured tone.
The orc took a deep, gulping breath.
“Need your help.”
