“Garhek ungh gar ekh ina.”
“No, no!” Bae’s scolding tone interrupts me. “It’s ghar ek’h ina. Don’t forget the click in between.”
“I feel like my tongue is going to break,” I groan. For some reason, Bae has decided that teaching me some language called Fetah’k, which nobody has ever heard about, is a good way to train my intelligence attribute. I don’t know about that. I believe it is training my perception and dexterity instead, with all those clicks and strange sounds it uses. They all sound the same, even though Bae insists they are not.
“Stop whining. It’s not that hard.”
“Why are you even teaching her an Underdark language so soon?” interjects Master Wen, looking up from some rune-covered book he is reading. “She is not nearly strong enough to venture down there yet.”
Bae glares toward the cherry tree under which he is sitting. “Do you ever look at what is happening outside the valley these days?” she asks.
He tilts his head. “Not really.” His hand caresses the huffing snow leopard hiding in the tree’s shadow. “I don’t care that much anymore.”
Bae huffs, seeming annoyed, making the leopard's ears perk up in alert before he relaxes again. “Well, if you would, you would see a lot of blumen explorers and scavenger parties traipsing through the woods and hills wherever you go. Sooner or later, she will encounter some of them if she has to go outside.”
I freeze. Are there plans to send me away already? This arrangement is too good to last forever, but why do I feel so scared? The mountains surrounding this valley have become a cocoon to shelter me during my metamorphosis. A fragile sanctuary that protects me from the dangers lurking outside in the world I left behind. My fingers search for something to grasp. My breath is shallow, my pulse a hesitating drumbeat. There are still a lot of people out there looking for me. Even more now, with the way Bae treated that Turstan guy. The world I know is a vast space full of people out to get me. The thought wraps around my ribs, tightening. I can’t risk it. Here, in this valley, I know what to expect. Out there, I have no idea. I blink and try to get a grip on myself. When did I become so attached to this place? It could be the food. It also could be because I feel safe for the first time in ages.
‘Hot.’
“Why are those legions that boy created not rounding them up?” asks Wen. “Don’t they hate those blumen anymore?”
Bae scoffs. “As if those prideful empire bastards would ever tolerate someone different than themselves.” She sits down on the grass, leaning her back against the trunk of another cherry tree. “No, they are occupied squabbling between themselves again for some reason. So, the blumen are taking advantage of the confusion to expand and take over some isolated villages.”
The words hit like a cold rush of air, numbing me for a heartbeat before panic set in. Weren’t that those plunderers that love to pillage and rape wherever they pass through? I can’t get out there! I feel my stomach drop. My fingers tighten around a tuft of grass as if bracing for impact. I replay the sentence in my mind, hoping I have misheard, that there is some mistake. For some reason, I remember the girl with the giant dog I encountered after escaping that forest fire. She lives all alone there with her brother. Alone and vulnerable.
‘Hot.’ The intrusive thought pierces through my panic. Something breaks in my mind, like a mirror that falls and shatters on the ground. I suddenly feel steadier, as if the world was out of balance and tilted back into place. What was that? Why did I panic like that? It’s not like I know that much about those Blumen. Maybe they are harmless. I remember that suspicious book about them I started to read. That biased piece of crap. For some reason, my memories of it are a blur. Can books be cursed or something? Maybe I should ask about it. And where did that strange sound come from? Was it even a sound?
“…like always. But I suppose we can’t expect more of those lazy bastards. What do you think, Minae?”
I blink, trying to grasp the conversation's thread, but it slips through my fingers like smoke. It seems like I only drifted for a moment, lost in my thoughts, but now they are looking at me, expecting something. An answer? An opinion? About what exactly? I scramble, searching their faces for a clue. My mind races to piece together the fragments I missed. My heart gives a nervous jolt. Smile, nod, act like you understand. An uneasy feeling settles inside my chest. I’m an outsider in a moment that passed while I worried over nothing. Blumen, they were talking about Blumen! “I don’t know,” I mutter, feeling embarrassed. “I don’t know enough to form an opinion.”
“Well said!” praises Master Wen. Really? What exactly? “The first step to wisdom is acknowledging when you don’t know something.” For some reason, he seems proud of my non-answer. “The roads are paved with fools believing that they know every answer until they discover that they don’t and messed up when it is too late.” Okay? What is he talking about? “You know. I am one of the few cultivators in the empire’s history who explored deep into the Underdark, and it is nothing like most people believe.”
Bae groans. “Not again, you have told that story millions of times already.”
“Really? And how is it? I ask at the same time, feeling intrigued.
Bae casts me a betrayed look and lets herself fall back until she disappears between the waist-high grass.
“It’s marvelous!” exclaims Wen with a beaming smile. “There are bustling cities down there, carved into the rock bed. Millions of people live in them. Some of them are even bigger than the empire’s biggest cities.”
I blink, trying to capture the scope and scale of what he is talking about. Bigger than Minas Kalin? How? How would logistics work? Where do they get their food? Water? No wonder they need to come up here to plunder.
“Couldn’t they just overrun us with their numbers if they decide to come up here?” I ask.
“What? Why would they?” He looks at me as if I asked something ridiculous. Excuse me? How should I know? “You see? They don’t like it up here. After living underground for generations, their skin has adapted to the lack of sunlight. Now, they need to cover themselves whenever they come up, or the sun burns them in a few minutes and gives them rashes. That’s why they mostly come out when the weather is bad. Bright lights also limit their sight. They see best in the dusk or nearly darkness.”
“Okay, that does make some sense. But couldn’t they stay inside a building during the day and move around at night?” Those reasons seem annoying but not that limiting with some workarounds.
“Well, they could, but they have an even greater problem to try to take over as some people fear. They aren’t all that strong, far away from their centers of power. That’s why they rarely venture far from the holes they spill out. The further they venture, the weaker they get, until most of their rank and file become as weak as a simple mortal.”
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“Huh? Why?”
“Well, it’s because they don’t cultivate like we do.” What? Why would people even fear them then? “Instead, they have those spirits they funnel their mana toward through their worship and beliefs. Through the adoration of the ignorant masses, those spirits can get as strong as immortal cultivators. Or even stronger inside the centers of power they call shrines or temples. Outside of them, they can’t affect the world much unless they form a spirit bond with a shaman or warrior. Those people are like gates through which their spirit’s power flows into our realm, letting them affect the physical and metaphysical world around them. They can be as strong as high-ranking cultivators, even if they haven’t done anything themselves to merit those powers. Their societies follow a strict caste-based system. Their hierarchies are maybe even corrupter than our own.” He tilts his head, like trying to find the right words. “It’s like a symbiotic or maybe parasitic relationship. In which the benefited parties are the shamanic and warrior castes, and the spirits they worship themselves, who suck up all the efforts of the masses to increase their strength and lifespan, under the promise of protecting the rest.”
A shiver travels down my spine. “That sounds dark…”
“Sure, I prefer the way of cultivation, too.” He mutters. “It’s also more stable. Your strength is your own. It won’t just vanish if someone eradicates the weak masses that follow you and tears down the temples where their belief gathers. It works for them because, in the Underdark, the directions from which something can attack the gigantic caves where they shelter their weak farmers and crafters are limited and easy to defend by a handful of warriors.” He looks toward Bae, still lying in the grass, sunning herself with her eyes closed. “Up here, it would be difficult, and as long as there are no temples of worship close, the range in which their shamans and warriors are dangerous is limited.”
“You forgot those idiots down in Kervana,” interjects Bae, demonstrating that she is not sleeping.
“True,” acknowledges Wen. “But those don’t even let any half-powerful outsider take a step onto the southern continent.”
“Who are those? More blumen?” I ask.
“What? No!” Answers Wen with a chuckle. “Don’t let them hear you say something like that. They can be prickly about it.” He looks over to Bae, who giggles, too. “They do the same thing, even if they prefer to call them gods instead of spirits. If I remember correctly, they call their spiritual leaders priests instead of shamans, and their warriors, paladins.”
“The funny thing is that they probably learned that method from the blumen,” comments Bae, still giggling.
“Some would argue that is slander, but true.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, watching sheep-shaped clouds drift by. The air is thick with the scent of life, a heady blend of wildflowers and sun-warmed grass. The crisp tang of crushed clover under our feet mingles with the soft, honeyed perfume of blooming daisies, cherry flowers, and lilies that sway in the soft breeze. The faint trace of rich and loamy earth carries the memories of the last rainfall, even though the sun has dried everything around us.
‘Hot.’ The thought cuts through the quiet like a sharp blade, sudden and unexpected. I freeze. My breath catches in my throat as the echo lingers in the stillness. It wasn’t a sound, even though it seemed as if someone just whispered into my ear. A shiver is crawling up my spine. Am I hallucinating voices where there should be silence? My mind scrambles to explain it away. Could it have been the breeze? No. I heard it before, too, even if I wasn’t paying attention. Something isn’t right. I strain to listen, to catch it next time. Muscles brace for what might come. The company of Wen and Bae feels comforting. If I were alone, I would probably freak out way more.
“Hot.” It feels almost like a whimper. A torrent of images of melting snow assaults my mind. The sun, the merciless sun, burns our blood, our fur, and our paws. I whirl around towards the leopard, gasping. “Is the cat speaking?”
“What?” Bae looks up. “Oh, you mean Kylo. Yeah. He is annoying, isn’t he? I tuned him out because I told him that if it was becoming too hot for him down here, he should go up into the mountains, but no. He feels bored alone up there, he says. But here, he won’t stop whining.” She rolls her eyes.
“Since when can he speak?”
“I taught him the minor telepathy technique a few days back after he finished carving his mind meridian,” explains Bae. “To help him communicate with others, now that his thought processes are becoming more complex.”
What meridian? He is silver-rank, then. The freaking cat has a higher cultivation than myself!
Something shifts down in the valley. It feels almost like a dark storm cloud rolling closer.
“Who is that idiot?” asks Wen. “He is going to scare the villagers. Someone is becoming bold.” He smiles almost like a vicious beast.
“More visitors,” groans Bae. “Haven’t they learned their lesson?”
“It seems we must welcome them. Are you coming, Bae?
“Sure.”
Before I can grasp what is happening, both disappear in a blur, leaving me alone with the huffing leopard, who looks at me with pleading eyes.
‘Hot,’ he whimpers again.
I lean back, trying to glimpse what is happening at the valley’s entrance. But it’s too far away to make out any details. The oppressive feeling has disappeared, though. I wait, but Bae and Wen don’t seem to be in a rush to return. What should I do with my unexpected free time?
‘Hot.’
I look at the leopard, an idea blooming in my mind.
“Do you want some help, buddy?” I ask, wondering how good his understanding of human speech is. “I can try to engrave a temperature-regulating body rune on you. This way you can stay cold wherever you go.”
He tilts his head and looks at me. ‘No hot?’
“Yes, as long as you can channel mana, I see no reason you wouldn’t be able to use a body rune.”
He stands up, stretching himself, and strolls over closer to me. ‘No hot!’ He accompanies his thought speech with a huff, sounding almost like he is commanding me.
I look at his dense fur. How should I do this? I take a sharp knife out of my ring. The leopard jumps back and hisses at me, eyes gleaming.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” I try to explain. Shit! I should have thought that would look suspicious. “I need to shave a small section of your fur to be able to draw on your skin, or the lines won’t be straight, and the ink won’t stick.”
‘No hot?’ He huffs again.
“Sure, then you will be able to stay cold.”
He walks back and turns over, exposing his belly. Huh? I didn’t expect him to trust me like that. Maybe his suffering is clouding his instincts. I snicker. Ignoring his half-drawn claws and watchful eyes, I shave a small section on his pectorals between his forelegs, just big enough to draw the rune on. He probably won’t have any problems channeling the full Eternal Spring rune continuously. I may need to adjust the temperature at which it will keep the surroundings of his body. His body is adapted to cold environments, after all. After all the practice modifying and creating new runes on the fly that Bae put me through, such an easy modification feels trivial. My drawing speed and precision have also improved, which I appreciate because those claws are sharp.
“Okay, finished,” I say. Bae looks at me, tilting his head in confusion. Oh, shit! How do I explain to him how to use them? “Err, you need to channel some of your mana into the rune for it to activate.”
He tilts his head again. The rune starts shining with a soft glow. He freezes mid-step, one paw hovering above the grass, ears flicking. His blue eyes widen, pupils dilating into inky pools. A twitch ripples down his sleek spine. His tail puffs up, then relaxes again.
‘No hot… No hot!’ He starts to pounce and prod around the meadow like an excited kitten. ‘No hot!’ Suddenly, he stops, frozen in place, eyes trying to glimpse his chest. ‘Bad.’ He darts back to my side. ‘Bad! BAD!’
His mental screams threaten to overwhelm me. Shit! Did I mess up? Is there some reason that makes mana-beasts unable to use runes? I should have asked Bae or Master Wen.
‘Bad,’ he whimpers again.
“Okay, okay, does it hurt or something?”
He tilts his head, looking at me as if I am dumb. ‘Hurt? No hurt. Bad!’
“Okay, it is bad. But why is it bad?”
A blur of images floods my mind. The sun shining onto the snow, bright and unrelenting. The sun? Does it burn or something? But he said it didn’t hurt? I look at him, confused. More images assault me. A predator stalking its prey, too slow to catch them, snow-bunnies darting away, always out of reach. My eyes fall on the glowing rune. Oh!
“The rune won’t let you sneak up on your prey. It’s the light. The light it emits will give you away.”
‘Yes! Bad. No sneaky,’ he huffs.
“Okay, okay, I can change that. Just let me add a few modifications.”
It shouldn’t even be that hard. I have experimented a lot with light and invisibility, after all. Let’s hope it will be enough for this big, demanding kitty.
