Orphan At The Edge Of The World - 237 The Fool 42

“Your disguise is failing,” the older adventurer said, not catching the subconscious reluctance in his own voice at all.

Whipping out a hand mirror from the storage device, Orison looked himself over for a split second to realize that he did look at lot like his ‘real’ self except painted in a softer light. Certain prominent features became slightly less modest rather than disappearing as they should have as well. Curious as to what caused it, he turned some of his attention inward to follow essence signatures.

He followed it right to the edges of where his spirit sight wouldn’t go, the chaotic center of his first layer of space. Responding to his desire, however, the Entanglement Key not only made its presence known, it showed how it got to Orison’s space. It was a bittersweet story.

***

A couple of days prior, Cray was finally able to pull out the cabin. In the process of checking it over and inspecting the hidden cabinets, he found the keg of ‘Gany-mead’. Since the deep elf had been passing friendly enough for Cray to feel comfortable around the guy, he cracked it open and shared a cup.

It was a deceptively subtle and dangerous beverage. Even though they felt great, their sense of judgment was clouded by it. They slammed back a few while Heath was sneaking drinks from the keg while the other two were lost in personal story time.

The deep elf was the most sensitive after Heath and not as controlled by instinctual impulse. Even so, they were all screwed by the time he figured out the trouble they were in. After some quick experimenting and some weird spiritual rhetoric that Orison didn’t quite buy, since they couldn’t save their present selves, they prepared for their ‘future’ selves instead.

Whether there was some truth to the deep elf’s beliefs or it was a happy coincidence, they could tie the essence up in a kind of future wish fulfillment checklist that only seemed to work part of the time. Among the successful were two very important ones as far as Orison was concerned. That was the ability to keep their memories and to be reborn with the young mage. Poor Heath couldn’t understand and trying to use the trainer on the kid earlier than was safe only made things worse.

In a last ditch effort to help, Cray used the entanglement key to send Heath’s preserved soul and whatever excess of essence that would be wasted via ‘helpful well wishes’, to Orison. Sure enough, the boy’s soul was resting within and protected by the key. The well wishes were spilling out into the young mage except disastrous or poorly thought out ones that were getting gobbled up by the desolate place at the center of his soul.

The deep elf was a great deal more thoughtful and conscientious. Including the ability to give the young mage a ‘safe’ amount of the brew in question, most went to his inner ruin as well but for different reasons. The man had put quite a bit of his excess into ‘slaking’ whatever thirst for power the young mage might possess. And, if nothing else, his inner ruin was ‘thirsty.

The young mage wasn’t particularly tore up by the reveal, just somewhat depressed. Cray’s potential was rather limited in the form summoned by the cards. A rebirth meant that the archer would have room to grow beyond the limitations that he was resurrected with. Orison didn’t know the deep elf at all but wasn’t against the idea of having another friend as long as the fanaticism was knocked down a peg or two.

That only left Heath to deal with. Plenty of the supercharged essence was locked up in the key with the boy’s soul which presented plenty of opportunities. The key itself had taken up some charge of its own but Orison could feel that it was merely a way of protecting itself from the caustic rejection of the world he was on. It would burn up quick, much like Morrel’s anointing on Amoril had.

***

As morning’s first light breached over the horizon, the elven woman had found her uncle’s place. It was ransacked. As they looked around, the woman read a few hidden signs left around the place to find a trapdoor that had gone undetected. Underneath was a tunnel that smelled faintly of unwashed body and showed signs of having been lived in recently.

A crossbow bolt came from further down the dark tunnel to land near Orison’s feet with a message attached. The young mage stopped Jarvis from chasing after the source as he read a question hastily scrawled on it. He took a second to collect himself.

“I was the one who made your underwear. I told you that you weren’t the only one in disguise,” he said.

The young elven man came into view only to be verbally assaulted by the elf woman. “Where’s my uncle?”

“To keep his cover in tact, he had to drive out with the caravan that left two hours ago. We tried to stage a rescue last night but they were under high alert. I’m sorry, mam. It seems that your generosity to me was not as harmless as I had thought it to be,” the young elf man said apologetically.

Orison said, “Not the time to console each other… Caravans travel slow. We can still catch up if you have a way for us to get out of the town.”

That galvanized the man into action. Several things had been prepared in advance. Thankfully, that included waterproofed wader pants because most of their initial journey was through sewer. Once they reached the other side, it was important decision time.

After a round of discussion, both Orison and Jarvis decided to travel a different route. A heated debate broke out over the human man but ultimately, the woman who was pregnant with his child via ‘humane’ insemination won the argument. Through the conversation, the young mage and Jarvis learned about the nature of the place where they were imprisoned.

Concerned about the smaller and smaller number of people born with the gift for magic, a few members of the Sisterhood devised a secret breeding program. Young male sorcerers who wouldn’t submit or made too many mistakes and elves made the bulk. There were some volunteer apprentices among the Sisterhood as well but they were obviously not going to be treated the same way. Nor was there a reason to hide them.

Attempting to drum up some small amount of humor among numerous small tragedies, the young elven man approached and said, “I approve of the new look.”

Jarvis muttered. “Of course you do.”

Both choosing to ignore him, Orison said, “This is not yet my final form! All decent final bosses have three.”

Setting his curious puzzlement to the side, the elf said, “Whatever your true self may appear, you are my friend. Should you find yourself on the Golden Planes. Name yourself friend of the woad to whoever you may meet there. Share the story of this day and display your healing talents. You will find welcome.”

Seeing a sentimental glaze coming over the hotblooded youths eyes again, Orison said, “I’ll be sure to do that but time is wasting. Good luck.”

Torn between boldness and uncertainty, the later won and the young man left with a sourness in his heart. By some unspoken agreement, Jarvis lead them off the road while silently approving Orison tagging along.

Once they’d been traveling for a couple of hours, the young mage finished a thorough self inspection and said, “We have some things to discuss.”

Mildly annoyed, the older adventurer stopped to look at the young mage with an impatient expression.

“Due to some poor framing of thought by a friend, I have some years to ‘share’. Care to live a little longer? I’d save them for someone else but they’re starting to disappear pretty fast.

Annoyance was exchanged for bewilderment. “Will I ‘just’ live longer? I don’t ‘care’ for the thought of being some undying bag of bones.”

Orison laughed, no less annoyed by the sound of his voice in current as he had the previous form but it seemed to wipe some of the strain off Jarvis’ face. “It adds on relatively evenly but favors the younger side over the older. From what I can tell, up to the limit of life allowed by the laws of existence, you kind of hover around your prime til the majority burns off and then age at an accelerated rate later.

“I’d have to examine you to tell you how much life potential you have or how much you can improve by, since everyone is different. But honestly, I don’t think it’s THAT big of an amount. The biggest plus is removing some of those hidden injuries you have. Fast healing without regeneration has downsides.”

Jarvis said, “What do you need to do?”

“Hand to the heart point on your chest so that the life essence will spread evenly throughout your body,” Orison said.

With a long suffering look, the older adventurer unbuckled the leather jerkin and lifted his shirt. “I’m not unaware of what happens to my own body. Just so you know.”

Reaching out to make contact with the heavily scarred chest, the young mage said blandly, “No need for all the flowery gratitude. You’re welcome.”

The encapsulated life essence his ruin had been snacking on with sluggish consistency poured into the man as a short lived torrent that quickly softened to a stream and then a trickle before stopping. During that time, Orison passively observed the flow of it. Once again, he was amazed at the incredible efficiency that Jarvis’ body absorbed and distributed life essence. There was one facet of that, the young mage was not so happy to see.

With a slow released sigh of growing depression, Orison said, “Damn, I was afraid of that.”

Quickly backing away, the older adventurer tensely said, ���What is it?”

“I need time to think some important decisions over. Could you tell me what your plans are in the meantime. I get that I’m a burden you’re going to find some place or person to shove me at but at least tell me the gist,” the young mage said.

The older adventurer said, “I’m going to the country estate of a friend. She’ll get you to the border of the Sisterhood controlled area… My insides are itching like crazy.”

Orison said, “That’s a temporary regeneration effect that happens when you get a big shot of life essence at once. You’ll probably shed a layer of skin too… It won’t feel that comfortable but I can hit you with a cleaning version of Degree Shift in an hour or so and you’ll be able to skip the majority of the nasty bits.”

Less than half an hour later, Jarvis went rushing for the bushes when a loud gurgle came from his guts. “I thought you said an hour.”

A little poleaxed, the young mage said, “Your body is insanely efficient.”

From the bushes, Jarvis said, “It has to be.”

A few minutes later, the adventurer stripped without a moment’s hesitation to get the greasy, peeling dead skin off but looked like he was going to attack the young mage when Degree Shift was activated.

With an accusing look, Jarvis said, “Degree Shift, huh? Was ‘Freezing Fire and Burning Ice’ already taken?”

Orison smiled in a way that must have been contagious since Jarvis returned it as he said, “Actually, I think they are. Don’t worry. In the near future, I’ll be able to switch to a more neutral temperature version after I get a grip on two more minor concepts.”

Jarvis smirked. “Plan on cleaning me often?”

“Not if you make it weird. My old companions were lazy… I have to admit. A quick slap of ‘Presto’ is a lot more convenient than all the effort it usually takes to get clean on the go. And being on the go can get messy with little warning.”

The adventurer checked himself out as he got dressed and said, “Cheers to that… Feel great, by the way. Sorry and thanks.”

The young mage chuckled. “If we can get you a trim and a shave, you’d be ready to find your future…”

Jarvis gave a more bitter smile prompted by an old but familiar pain. The rest of the day passed mostly in silence.

After their camping area was set, Orison broke it, “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. If you could have a kid, would you want one?”

The young mage could tell that Jarvis bit back a knee jerk reaction to get nasty as the man said, “I was eleven when I was given the choice to become a Gloaming Warden. I didn’t know what I was giving up to get what I have. It was all I knew.

“I lost the title when the order fell but I’m still doing the only thing I’m good at, hunting monsters. What’s the point in thinking about something I can’t have? Guess I should be grateful I can still have the fun without the responsibility. As far as magically created mules go, I have it better off than most.”

Orison stared into the fire with a distant look and said, “I’m not asking as a hypothetical. If you don’t feel like answering, pretend I didn’t ask. I sure as hell didn’t want to.”

Jarvis froze. “I-that’s impossible… Yes, I would.”

The young mage continued staring into the flame. “You have three weeks to find a surrogate to carry it and the soul it gets will have memories of a past life after seven. If it takes longer than that, the stasis will wear off and it will get scrapped along with another unwanted hitchhiker. I’m certain the person who’s responsible for that wouldn’t have had the courage if he knew how much his employer spent in making the impossible anything but. Either way, he’s a dead man.”

Jarvis took his own turn staring into the flames and finally said, “Teshara gave me a dream sending saying she’d be late. Then, after I was drugged and brought there, she sent another saying she couldn’t get me out right away because someone was blocking her from coming. I had an idea of what I was in for but nothing I couldn’t shake off afterwards. I even knew I was going to be set free eventually.

“Parts are fuzzy but I know I didn’t… Did this other man? You don’t have to-”

Staring darkly into the fire, images of hellish landscapes reflecting from his eyes, Orison said, “No. But if I had been there for much longer, probably. He had an apprentice sorceress try to place a geas in my mind so that I’d WANT him to before I’d even finished intake or whatever they call it. She’s a soulless vegetable only good for their breeding program now.

“Their ‘humane’ treatment makes it very hard to have children naturally afterwards. I feel for those girls. One of them was carrying that soon to be dead man’s child as well. And it wasn’t by their artificial method. Poor girl got the worst of both.”

The adventurer said, “Sorcery carries its price in exchange for power and a longer life, much like my own advantages come with their sacrifice. It’s obvious why the gift is dying out. It’s a greed in them to have the power, knowing the cost, but still wanting what that cost takes from them.”

Orison shook his head. “There’s little sin in feeling and thinking. It’s the actions that carry debt. If they don’t wise up, their fate isn’t going to be any prettier than the old order they tore down… For me, it’s a simpler matter. Someone wronged me. I’m going to wrong the hell out of him right back.

“His boss, the person behind it, the seed of their doom’s already planted. I don’t want to rob others of their chance for some vindication. They’re owed a lot more than I am.”

He could tell Jarvis had a lot more to ask but personal habit and consideration kept the man silent. The young mage took the favor and opportunity to call it a night early and work on meditation. The next few days passed in much the same manner but with the adventurer being uncomfortably solicitous. It was somewhat expected and Jarvis didn’t take it past tolerable levels. So, Orison bit his tongue and split his focus on moving without tripping and filling in comprehension holes.

One morning, nearly a week in, Jarvis came out of his tent to see a horse with legs that terminated in shadowy wisps. Apparently it matched the description of some kind of supernatural threat because Orison had to stop him from attacking it.

“We’re going to be riding this?” Jarvis looked at the phantom horse dubiously.

Orison sharply exhaled in humored disbelief, “That was kind of the point of the last few days’ hard work.”

“The inside of your head must be a strange and wondrous place. I thought you were moping… Isn’t riding bad-” the adventurer said.

Orison cut him off. “Short of surgery and traumatic stab wounds, there’s nothing to worry about on that front. On the other hand, you’ve only got two weeks left.”