Book 2: Chapter 6: Return to Baba

The road to Vrung’s Quarry was less a road and more a glorified animal trail. Worn rocks, roots like bones under the soil, and just enough cover to make you wonder what was watching from the trees. Still, it was more than a welcome change after days of glyph laden puzzle caverns, undead graveyards, and kobold fire-pits.

During their travel, Alex walked near the front, Lance and Garret flanking him on either side. The rest following in behind. The squad was excited to finally reach human civilization, something that only Garret and he have enjoyed since they arrived to Aetherios one month ago. The others trailed behind in casual disorder. There was laughter, bits of banter, the occasional thrown pinecone. The light sort of comfort that let him know this visit was the right decision. Tom-Tom kept trying to climb trees, either to scout or to “get a better angle for ambush snacks.” No one had asked.

The wildlife, normally aggressive, magically mutated, or both, was mysteriously absent. No badger ambushes. No vine-limbed, barkskin armored mosslings. Not even a politely disgruntled squirrel.

“It’s that crazy aura your giving off, man,” Garret finally said.

“He’s not wrong,” Holly said. “You’ve got this impressive feral vibe that’s been rolling of you since last night.”

Alex looked down at his hands. The azure threads of energy had thickened under his skin, pulsing and flowing through him. It wasn’t at all near the unholy ocean of Sylvaris-level intensity, and wasn’t quite the same intensity the kobold chieftain radiated… but it was something. Apparently enough to make the local ecosystem rethink its life choices.

He exhaled slowly and reached inward with his sixth sense and tried grab hold of his energy, to control it. The aether inside him resisted at first, but it eventually obeyed his demands. It stilled its erratic flow and then slid deeper into his muscles, and bones as he exerted his will. Within only a few moments, Alex got a hold of himself entirely and the oppressive pressure rolling off him like a magical migraine was reduced to a soft hum instead. The aura was still there, and still him, but it was now dulled, hidden.

“Better?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Much,” said Garret. “Now I only mildly feel like I’m going to die.”

The village eventually came into view far beyond the treeline, stone buildings nestled into the hillside, along the winding river. Smoke rose from the forge chimney, and singing ran on the wind from the inside of the tavern. That same faint smell of metal and dust swept in from the quarry mine that Alex remembered.

Vrung’s Quarry. Home of Celeste, human apothecary, probable genius, definite grouch. They all walked across the cobbled stone road, taking in the sights and quaint medieval vibes. Merchant stalls and street performers lined up and down each side of the walkways. Alex led the group, taking them down a side road and through a few turns toward the outskirts.

Alex rolled his shoulders. “Be cool.”

“I’m always

cool,” Garret said.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Please shut up,” Kate replied immediately.

They stepped up towards the shop just as a sudden Thwoom! erupted from inside the building, and an acrid green smoke billowed from the windows and beneath the door. The noise cut out like a hammer had frozen mid-swing, the door burst open and from the smoke emerged Celeste. Her arms were crossed, apron stained, gray hair tied back, and her eyes squinting through the afternoon sun like she was trying to see if her sanity was playing hide and seek.

She stared at the group. Then stared harder at Tom-Tom. Then back at Alex.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Nice to see you too,” Alex replied, stepping forward. “We brought trade. And stories.”

“You brought a kobold. You brought eleven people. And someone is already licking my damn gate post.” Her voice somehow grew even colder. Everyone turned slowly. Tom-Tom froze mid-lick, eyes wide and tongue still extended.

“It’s very… mineral-y,” he offered.

Celeste didn’t blink.

Alex cleared his throat. “Look, I know it’s a lot. But we need gear. And time. You’re the best healer, teacher and merchant we’ve got. And we can pay.”

Celeste grumbled something under her breath, then gestured toward the open doorway which still leaked green smoke. “Fine. You all eat, you rest. Then we talk business. But if any of you wake me up in the morning, I’ll forge you into a shovel and dig your own graves with you.”

“Understood,” Eric said quickly, nodding. Tom-Tom saluted.

***

Dinner was… chaos.

The shop’s back room wasn’t built for ten people. Plates clattered. Spoons were passed like battlefield supplies. Garret tried to sneak an early taste of the stew and nearly knocked over the whole pot. Lance offered to help and got told to sit down “before he ruined the bread with his face.” Devon found a cabinet full of herbs and proceeded to sneeze every thirty seconds.

Tom-Tom had acquired a fork. He hadn’t figured out how to use it. Instead, he licked it. Slowly, repeatedly, with reverence.

“Is this a sacred implement?” he whispered to Allie.

“Yes, it is. But, only if you stop talking,” she replied, staring straight ahead.

Across the table, Celeste nursed a tankard of something dark and dangerous. Her eyes occasionally flicked toward Alex, then away. Not quite soft. Not angry, either. Just… calculating.

Alex waited for the chaos to slow before saying anything.

“Thanks for letting us stay.”

She snorted. “I let you stay last time. This time you brought a carnival.”

Alex smiled faintly. “I brought them because they’re my friends, they matter to me.”

Celeste’s gaze lingered on him for a beat longer than he felt was truly necessary, giving him a chill. Then she looked away, muttering something into her drink. He didn’t press the issue. There was time for her to warm up to everyone.

Bowls of stew were eaten in awkward, punctuated silence. The night rolled in quiet and cold, wrapping the village in pause as the squad slowly drifted toward bedrolls and corners of the room that looked least flammable. Alex remained in his seat long after the others had gone quiet. Instead of sleeping, he watched as across the room, Celeste cleaned a mug that didn’t need any more cleaning, her motions slow and methodical.

“You changed,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“You still running from yourself?” He didn’t answer that one. The woman eyed him and eventually, she nodded, just once.

“I’ll take a look at your gear tomorrow. We can talk about me teaching the girl and the other boy. Meanwhile, you all might need more potions, ingredients, and whatnot.”

“Thank you, Celeste.”

She didn’t answer him verbally, she only scoffed and finished off polishing the mug in her hand. Then she set in the cupboard without any ceremony and left, footsteps echoing softly down the hallway behind her.

Alex sighed and looked down at the table, at the fork Tom-Tom had abandoned, now covered in lizard saliva and bent completely sideways from some failed experiment he performed in the stabbing of stew.

He chuckled under his breath, shook his head, then finally decided to give in and let the night have him.

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