First fist book 2 conflu.., p.7
First Fist Book 2: Confluence of Fates, page 7
“Nothing a Stone Bringer can’t handle,” Hagen said firmly. “You can’t save us all on your own, Luca. Go off into the mountains like you have been and bring whatever herbs and game you find. That’s more than enough.”
A warmth filled Luca’s chest. Though he hadn’t been close to Hagen during his time with Ballum’s Fist, seeing such a stout and noble man brought low had been heartbreaking.
Luca took the man in with fresh eyes. Hagen’s clothes were ragged, his boots worn, yet he’d shaved this morning, and he’d cropped his hair and kept it brushed and clean.
“Good to hear,” Luca said plainly. “Anyhow, I have a few more things to do. I’ll be gone in the morning and won’t be back for a week or so. I’ll bring the herbs and as much meat as I can carry.”
As Luca headed back into the heart of Wyndfall, a gust of wind rolled down off the mountains. He pulled his cloak around himself and shivered a little. Winter is only a few weeks off at best. Time to get to work, damn it. Mouths to feed. There are people counting on you.
Leshra popped into his head briefly, whispering, More than you know, Luca, dear. More than you know.
Well, what in the soggy halls of hell does that mean? he questioned, but the goddess only tittered in response.
Luca lifted his right arm to scratch his forehead. The missing appendage surprised him, like it had when the injury was fresh. He’d been getting used to being able to summon his mana fist at will.
Shaking his head, he chuckled at his own expense.
Something moved in the corner of his vision then. He tensed for a fight, then saw that it was someone bearing a large basket piled so high with furs that they couldn’t see where they were going.
He tried to sidestep out of the way, but a passerby bumped him from behind. He soon found himself colliding with a stranger. Both of them fell to the ground, furs piling atop the mystery person in a heap.
The voice of Rowan the Douser emerged from the furs, muffled and angry. “Will the gods not give me a sodden break this morning?”
Luca rested an arm over his knee and, figuring his ass was already deep in the mud, chose to enjoy the irony of the moment instead of becoming angry. Besides, the woman was a sight to see as she struggled to free herself from the mess. “Ambushed in the quaint town of Wyndfall two hours before noon bell and yelled at for the second time in the same day… I rather think I’m the one that should be cursing.”
Rowan gasped and threw off the last of the furs. Mouth ajar, she stared in shock at the man she’d just bowled over.
6
MY REVERENCE IS RESERVED
“Circumstance drives the course of our lives. We simply prefer to view it as fate.”
~Lionel Black II, the Coward Prince
Rowan’s eyes remained fixed on Luca’s. Her mouth gaped like a fish needing water, completely at a loss for words. Then, just as suddenly as she’d crashed into him, her anger and shock melted away.
Rowan threw back her head and laughed. The sound was golden and pure, warming Luca’s heart like a hearth fire. He too was swept up in the moment. He laughed at himself, at the woman brought so low by circumstance, and at their shared humiliation.
Black curls clung to Rowan’s forehead, and her cheeks burned bright with color. “Luca! I should have known it was you. Felt like I slammed into a stack of bricks! Hemma has a cruel sense of humor, does she not?”
He shook his head at her. “Leshra is the only goddess I acknowledge these days. Besides, this mess…” He gestured to the disheveled furs between them. “This is much more her style.”
The two observed one another a moment longer, soft smiles on their faces. Then Luca stood and held out his hand. “Up with you, now—unless, of course, you prefer to lounge in the street,” he said, reciting the same words she’d said to him when they’d first met in Wyndfall.
Rowan tilted her head to one side and nodded. A spark in her dark eyes told him she’d not missed the reference. “Very well. I deserved that.”
They brushed themselves off and then stacked the furs back into the basket. Luca took a large armful to make the burden less cumbersome, then asked, “So, where we headed?”
“Jessa, the cobbler’s wife. She’s good with a needle and thread, and we were hoping to make as many fur boots as possible with these. Cold times are coming.”
Luca dodged a pair of children darting through the street, a terrified chicken weaving ahead of them. “So everyone keeps saying. Short rations won’t make for a pleasant season, and by the look of things, too few of us have warm enough clothes. I just hope the winter isn’t so harsh.”
Rowan’s lips thinned. “The island has almost no cover. If Wyndfall were tucked behind the mountains, perhaps things might be different. I don’t want to heap worries on your shoulders, but I recall few winters that weren’t harsh. Storms blow in from the ocean that soak the town, and when they roll off the mountains, everything freezes something terrible.”
“Sounds awful. Still, there is a bit of time remaining to shore up against the weather. I’ll speak with Fergus and Adeline. If we harvest enough moss, we should be able to keep the houses warmer through the nights.”
The woman stopped and turned to Luca, her head tilting to one side. “You seem to have an answer for everything. Do they teach soldiers such tricks in the army, then? Or have you lived through a few bitter snows yourself?”
Luca hefted the furs, repositioning them on his hip. He chewed his bottom lip, mind flitting to the small town he’d called home for so much of his early life. “Brindled Falls—I think I’ve mentioned it before. My hometown was well positioned, had a lot more shelter from the winds, as it were. It sat high enough in the hills, though. More than once, the entire town was buried in snow higher than my hip.
“Those years were inconvenient. Snow’s like a cozy blanket. The coldest times were when sleet soaked us through, followed by clear, cold nights. Ice…” Luca shook his head. “Nothing pleasant about it.”
Rowan searched his face. He wondered what she was looking for there. Luca didn’t consider himself handsome; he was no Falko of the Iron Steppes. Never had been.
Her eyes smiled privately, not a trace of the expression touching the rest of her face. Drawing in a breath, she nodded and continued the short journey to deliver the furs.
Picking up pace beside her, Luca asked, “And how are things with you? How has it been since… the last meeting?”
The woman sighed and furrowed her brow. Instead of answering, she nodded to a hut ahead. “The one with the green door. That’s Jessa’s place, if you ever need to find her.”
Luca acknowledged the information with a nod but decided to keep his lips closed for the time being. Something was weighing on the woman, and it was her choice to reveal it. He had a strong suspicion what it was. Given its sensitive nature, Luca fought against his propensity for bluntness.
Patience would serve better.
“Jessa!” Rowan called. “Time to make those fingers bleed!”
A tall woman with copper hair stepped out onto the porch. Her face was worn, but her brown eyes were keen and lively. “I’d say thanks, but we both know you’ve just signed away my evenings for the rest of the month.”
The two exchanged a few pleasantries, and Luca was introduced.
Five minutes later, Rowan led Luca away from Jessa’s house and back to her own in silence. Abruptly, she hopped up onto her porch and faced him. Arms folded, she said, “Things are tense, Luca. Not gonna say I’m surprised. Everyone grew up with the same stories and songs as I did in Fernmoth. Mindeans share the same beliefs—all but those in the far north, at least.”
She tapped the heel of her boot on the edge of her porch, looking down while she collected her thoughts. “Ever since news spread,” she continued, eyes still downcast, “that I… That I’m a Douser… Well, leave it to say folks’ve been far less friendly.”
“I was afraid you might say as much. Honestly, it does sadden me a little, though. I had hoped the Wylish folk might be different.” Luca gestured to Wyndfall broadly. “This town is composed mostly of thieves, murderers, turn-cloaks, gamblers, and the children born of the same ilk. You’d think they might have an open mind.”
Rowan arched an eyebrow. “What about you, Luca? Which of those titles belong to you? Are all Wylish so base?”
Luca sighed deeply. Chin titling, he acknowledged her point. “None. I should have added cursed to that list,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I’m more like you in that manner. You deserve exile about as much as little Alice does. You couldn’t help but be who you were.”
Rowan’s body language shifted. She straightened, a slight frown pulling her lips down. “Am I innocent in your eyes, then? My… abilities don’t bother you?”
A short silence fell. Luca cleared his throat, searching for words both true and gentle. Sighing, he lifted one foot to rest on the porch beside Rowan’s. “It did,” Luca admitted. “Still does, a little. Like you said… stories and songs. Hard to pry oneself from the past.”
The woman deflated a little and hung her head, eyes seeking refuge from his gaze.
“Not impossible, though,” Luca added. “I once worshiped Ballum. I used to think the Stone Bringers were the peak of cultivation, and that my greatest ambition would be to retire in a cabin with a woman I only loved in part.”
He watched her reactions. They were subtle but distinct. An intake of air, nostrils flaring at the indirect mention of Sara. Her eyes found his, wide and fearful.
“Now my reverence is reserved for Leshra alone, a goddess I didn’t even know existed. I’m far more powerful than any Mindean cultivator—even the legendary warriors of the past, I believe. And I have learned more about love and what it might someday bring than I ever thought possible.”
Rowan’s mouth parted. She uncrossed her arms, grasping the hem of her dress unconsciously. She didn’t find whatever words she’d been attempting to summon, however. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder into the window of her humble home.
Luca cleared his throat and removed his boot from the porch. Perhaps I’ve overstepped. I tell the woman no one moment and then give her hope another. Keep a clear head, Luca. Rowan’s heart is not yours to wound.
Raising his voice a little, he asked, “And what of your own supplies? Do you have food stores? Are you lacking a coat or a thick blanket?”
She took the offered thread of conversation gratefully. “Don’t need to worry about me, Luca. I have a little food, and if things get nippy, I can bed with Adeline or one of the other women in town. That’s how we make do.”
“I’m not worried, just asking,” he amended. “I’m heading out again soon, with Bodo and Talia. We have hopes to bring in a good deal more game, perhaps more furs as well. I’ll set some of both aside for you.”
Rowan gave him a broad smile. “You’re mad—you know that? Tall and broad of shoulders, you may be, but you’re only one man. Don’t bother with me, Luca. I’ll be fine.”
“And those that are less than friendly?” he pressed. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
She nodded toward a nearby cabin. “Arbin’s close at hand. Like I said, I’ll be fine. I’ve seasoned long enough,” she said with a chuckle. “Like aged oak. I’ll last for years to come. Promise.”
Her metaphor melted the tension, as he suspected she’d intended. Still, he laughed. “Flattering. Rowan of Wyndfall, fair as aged oak. You hold yourself in high regard. Be careful, or folk might think you vain.”
She tossed her hair and fluttered her lashes comically. “There are worse vices,” she said in a dramatic tone that reminded him of Leshra.
Luca searched her dark eyes as silence returned like a wall between them. She wasn’t revealing everything, he could tell. Yet her wisdom hadn’t failed her. The woman had survived far longer on this island than Luca. She deserved a little credit.
He, Bodo, and Talia had more than enough on their plates. Accepting her word for what it was, he smiled. “Very well. If anything changes for the worse, you will tell me?”
A touch of joy returned to Rowan’s face, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes forming. “Thank you, Luca. I promise… I’ll let you know if anything amiss happens.”
After a long moment, Luca realized he was still staring at the poor woman. He cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. Turning to the town behind him, he said, “I’m off again. Things to do and too little time as usual.”
Rowan wrinkled her nose in mock disgust. “You’re telling me. Off with you, now, before I have you scraping hides.”
Luca nodded and left her alone on the porch. And as he strode into town, he felt her gaze upon his retreating back.
Unsurprisingly, he found the sensation was not at all unpleasant.
Well, well, Leshra whispered in his mind, how the batter thickens.
Hello, Leshra. I don’t remember calling on you.
The goddess sighed. So rude. And to think, you’re the leader of my Sect. You should avoid comments like that, Luca. Blasphemy doesn’t suit you.
Luca turned up the street and waved to the woman that stood with arms folded, still watching him as he walked away. Rowan’s eyes widened, and with a smile, she took a sudden interest in her boots.
He laughed to himself and watched her enter the small house at last. Only when she’d shut the door did he continue toward Adeline’s.
Oh, my, but mortals are so strange. You know, you humans are no different than colorful birds strutting about. You’d think you’d learn a little dignity over the years.
Luca rolled his eyes. You’re insufferable. We might be like the birds, but at least we keep out of each other’s heads. Mind your own sodden business.
The goddess cackled in delight until she eventually tired herself out. With a fading voice, she said, I do hope you learn your lesson soon. It should be quite obvious to you by now.
And what lesson might that be? he answered, taking her bait so that she would leave him alone.
Predictably, her answer dripped with self-importance. Everything, Luca, darling. Absolutely everything is my business.
7
A BOUNTY AND A BOON
“The Spheres of Ascension, prolonged lifespan, and unparalleled power—these were but a portion of the gifts Dai granted us. Revealing the paths that led to the many wonders hidden in our Sanctums should never be overlooked. Those blessings are stepping stones, lifting us to the vaulted skies.”
~Fai Shuling, Shujin of the Wandering Hermitage Dai Sect
They’d accomplished a great deal in town. Not only had they replenished supplies and prepared for the journey to Focus Point Clarity, but the members of the Jackal Sect had also regained a bit of their sanity. Few things in life were more grounding, Luca believed, than spending time with friends and family.
After Luca retired to his cabin, Talia had apparently taken Bodo in for the night to get better acquainted with Arbin. According to Bodo, they’d decided to relinquish a jug of plum wine from the cellar and have a joyous time.
Having stayed up far too late—and polished off the entire jug—Talia and Bodo were a sight to behold. When they met Luca at his cabin the following morning, the two looked as if they’d been dragged by a team of mules. Although he had the urge to make the two pay for their lack of discipline, his own fitful sleep had left him as exhausted as they were.
His vision repeated itself three times, ruining what peace he’d found during his trip. Eventually, Luca had given up on sleeping entirely and spent the rest of the night in meditation.
As soon as the portal was charged, they returned to the Sanctum. After no more than a handful of words, the three promptly went to bed.
Luca collapsed in his room. Sleep stole over him like a shroud of mist. As he tumbled into unconsciousness, he only hoped the sodden dream would leave him be for once.
No sooner had he lost himself than a terrible and strange event occurred. A faint vibration shook the floor, and the sound of stone grinding on stone echoed noisily down the hall. Of course, Luca’s mind insisted on pulling those sensations into the dreamworld with him. When the stone beneath him rocked from some impact, however, instinct took over.
Luca’s eyes were open in a flash. He flung himself from bed and snatched the spear that rested nearby. Leshra, he spoke internally, worried intruders might hear his cry of alarm, what in… your name is happening?
I don’t know, but it isn’t the entrance. A passage is opening up! One I honestly didn’t know existed!
Luca opened his door and flinched as a screaming Bodo filled his vision. “Luca! Luca, something’s happened!”
“Quiet,” Luca hissed. “No talking till we know we’re alone.”
The lad winced as if he’d only now considered that possibility. Raising his hands in apology, he nodded.
Luca stepped into the hall and followed Leshra as she trotted down the corridor. The three members of the Jackal Sect strode behind their goddess until she stopped at an opening that hadn’t been there before. Veering to the left, a new fork in the hall stood some twenty feet before the training room.
Leshra peered inside. “It’s quite alright, Luca, darling. No monsters lurk inside. I believe it’s safe to calm down a little. No need for that intense scowl.”
“I’m not scowling,” Luca replied. Bodo giggled, then quieted when Luca growled in his direction. The young man’s expression acted as a perfect mirror, and Luca finally shrugged. “Fine, I scowl sometimes. I haven’t been sleeping well, and the damn wall just opened for no good reason at all. Give me a break.”
Talia cleared her throat. “We all know this, Luca. We gonna check out what’s in there or not? If not, I’m going back to sleep.”
Leshra’s form zipped through the doorway and down a short hall. It was lit by small light crystals embedded in the ceiling every ten feet. Beyond, Luca’s eyes picked up an odd flickering. It made for an eerie atmosphere, and despite Leshra’s insistence that no intruders were present, he kept his spear at the ready.
