Chapter 11: Talentless - Chapter 11

Rayden’s eyes fluttered open as his memories faded, and the familiar scene of his Refuge focused into view. His mysterious captor was standing nearby, staring at the gray and stormy sky. His gaze was heavy, laden with a sorrow that Rayden could sense but not fathom. It was as if the story he told was one of a thousand tragedies weighing on her soul.

He supposed that could literally be the case, as developing your Talent dramatically increased your lifespan. For all he knew, the woman in front of him could be hundreds of years old. However, as much as he respected his elders, that didn’t mean he was ok with having his mind tampered with.

Whatever magic she conjured had put him in a dreamlike state where his memories flowed out in focused threads, like a tapestry being woven from his thoughts. It had felt cathartic to get all that off his chest, but it didn’t feel consensual.

He had agreed to tell his story, not to have it pried from his head.

“What was that?” He asked cautiously.

“It’s called a Thought Exercise,” she answered, still entranced by whatever she saw above. “It lets you speak without extraneous thoughts.”

“So you hypnotized me?”

“In a way, yes. To save time.”

She slowly shook her head, then whispered, “I know it means little coming from me, but I am very sorry for your loss.”

He was tempted to snap at her, but resisted. He didn’t think voicing his indignity would accomplish much, and despite her manipulations, he wanted the blessing he had been promised. Reluctantly, Rayden forgoed a retort and simply bobbed his head.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, nor do you want to,” she replied. “And that’s understandable. Soon, you will be sent back to your friends, and we will be unable to speak again for a long time…likely until you reach the prowess of what your kingdom calls Knights. So if you still have questions, please ask now.”

She turned to face him, unveiling the tears streaming down her face in staggered waterfalls. Though she was silent, and her green eyes remained calm, he felt the terrible weight of her sorrow.

Rayden was so surprised by her grief that he almost disregarded the implication that he would one day be as strong as those officially recognized by the royal family’s rigorous standards. Knights weren’t just Attuned who had achieved three Profundities, they were directly endorsed by the highest power in the land.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, whispering the question.

She continued looking through him, not even bothering to wipe her eyes.

“A long time ago, I made a vow like yours, when four of my closest friends turned their backs on me... What else would you like to know?”

Frowning, he crossed his arms and looked around at the trees bending in the wind. The wind was strong but not terrible, and he felt like the Mother was stringing him along the same way. He did have plenty more questions, but he suspected the answers were going to be given in more cryptic blurbs.

“I have nothing more, do what you’re going to do,” he shrugged.

She nodded, then her green eyes flashed gray as the wind suddenly picked up around them.

“Alright, Rayden.”

He felt an incredible burst of mana surrounding her, so thick and dense that he could see a shadowy aura flickering wildly around her silhouette. The gentle rain strengthened into a downpour. Infrequent bouts of lightning concentrated into furious barrages, followed by violent peals of echoing thunder. The sky darkened, and so did the Mother’s face, as if she had peeled back her unflinching mask to reveal a glimpse of the passion lurking beneath.

Before he knew it, the calm storm within his Refuge had strengthened into a hurricane. Wind and rain battered him from all sides, but he couldn’t look away from the woman who was touching her palm to his forehead. Tendrils of silver mana vibrated around her like lashing whips, threatening to destroy whatever they touched.

She was absurd, an absolute freak of nature, calling upon power that no man should wield. An old and wizened cataclysm.

He realized he had misunderstood her strength, that she was not just strong but perhaps one of the strongest. She was almost like a goddess, and that scared him. He had thought she used the word blessing in the way a queen would look upon a favorable servant, but now he wasn’t so sure.

What exactly had he signed up for?

“Rayden Wake, son of Eleanor,” she spoke, her voice beaming into his head and instantly clearing his thoughts. “You have bared your soul to me.”

He had no idea how she knew those names, but right then, he was willing to believe she could do anything.

“Now, I give you a fragment of mine in return, in the hopes that you will grow strong enough to forge the path you wish. Your kingdom is rotten, but I have seen your heart and declare it fit for battle. I grant you these boons: peace of mind, blessed mana, watchful eyes, and truth of purpose. May they protect you from my enemies…and one day be the death of yours.”

A tremendous explosion of mana blasted from her eyes, then the sky turned blood red. A bolt of silver lightning descended from a scarlet funnel and struck him dead on. He felt no pain, just a strange discomfort in his mana core, as if someone was etching their signature into his very being.

“By the mark of Maelstrum, and the tithe of Tempest, I bless you, Rayden Wake. May you carve your path across the land, gathering strength until you become the storm you admire.”

The words rumbled in his head, thick with meaning he felt but did not yet understand. The Mother withdrew her hand, and all around him, silver mana began to roll in like a thick mist, gradually building up until he could barely see in front of him. It was oddly…comforting…but he was suddenly exhausted.

The last thing he saw before fading into oblivion was his benefactor's tired face peeking through the fog. She looked haggard but was wearing a faint smile.

“One last thing,” she whispered into his mind. “That girl you’re courting, surprise her with the wildflowers you’ve found. It will make a good impression at dinner.”

***

“Rayden!”

Hmm?

“Rayden!”

Somebody was calling his name, but he wanted to rest.

“Rayden, it seems you’ve fainted, good sir. I'd very much appreciate it if you could return to us, as our russet-haired comrade is quite worried!”

No thanks. He was going to disregard that voice.

“Rayden, it’s me, the curvy red-headed spell-slinging lass of your dreams!”

He cracked an eye open, only to see Boh’s ruddy face grinning down at him.

Dammit.

“There he is,” the dwarf smiled. “Can’t overlook that one, huh, just in case?”

Rayden sat up, pleased to see his companions sitting in a circle around him with worried looks on their grimy faces. There was no sign of the Mother, the shade, or the goblin-pillaged castle; they had safely returned to the flowery oasis they left from. It appeared to be early morning, with one the last moon still lingering in the sky.

“What happened?” He said with a groan.

His head was still fuzzy, and the image of the Mother’s unleashed power lingered. His whole exchange with the woman felt like a hazy dream…but he knew it was more.

“We were wondering the same,” Ivy said sternly, looking into the depths of his eyes.

Quill sat beside her, both concerned and relieved.

“After we killed the stormcrow, the shade appeared and blasted us through the Quasar,” the Mage explained. “We saw him say something to you, but couldn’t make out the words. When we appeared out here, you were unconscious on the grass. It’s been about half an hour since then.”

Rayden nodded, a bit befuddled by how exactly that sequence of events was possible, but not willing to underestimate his benefactor’s tremendous powers. She had messed with his mind, so why not theirs?

“I experienced things a bit differently, but I think I am alright now,” he replied. “The shade put me in a trance, then…”

He trailed off, distracted by the strange sensation he had felt in his Refuge, but had been unable to explore. Concentrating, he raised his hand and sent wisps of mana into the air, feeling the flow of air around him and bending it to his will.

He touched on a gentle breeze and hastened it, just a bit. Rayden felt that he could manipulate its temperature too, or even bring together rival currents in a clash of heat. It was…fascinating.

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“You got your talent, huh?” Quill smiled.

“You noticed?”

The Mage laughed, rolling her eyes as she put a finger in the air.

“Given that you were a Cultivator before and are now clumsily feeling out the air with your mana, it's quite obvious. If that wasn’t enough of a hint, the wind just picked up while you stared at it.”

“Ah, some very good points,” he grinned.

“I’m glad you’re OK.”

“Thanks.”

He shared a quick hug with the curvy, redheaded spell-slinging lass of his dreams, until Jim interrupted with his trademark candor.

“Congratulations, Rayden,” he said with a fist pump. “A base Cultivator with what I assume is Controller Talent, a rather fearsome combination!”

“Thatta boy,” Boh echoed, slapping him on the back.

“Thanks, guys. Your Talents were impressive too, fire and void and all that. If only I knew you had them before I almost died…”

Jim and Boh gave him a guilty look, but he just brushed them off with a smile.

He couldn’t help but notice Ivy continuing to inspect him, a puzzled look on her tan features. He knew she wanted to interrogate him further, but was waiting for the others elation to die down. Rayden would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little schadenfreude now that he was the one with closely guarded secrets.

As nice as that made him feel, he didn’t intend to be withholding. He would share as much as he felt was safe.

“I spoke with the shade’s master, whom he called the Mother,” he said casually, silencing the group. “She is responsible for increasing the mana density out here, and is doing so in other places as well. They deliberately allowed this dungeon to form and waited for someone to clear it. It’s a long story, but essentially, the Mother granted me…a boon, I think.”

“Who is this master?” Ivy asked.

“You think?” Quill added.

“I don’t know much more than you,” Rayden shrugged. “She appeared as an older, gray-haired woman with silver mana. She was extremely powerful, even more so than the shade. As for the boon, yes, she said she was granting me a blessing, but I don’t know what that means yet, that was the last thing that happened before I woke up…”

Quill furrowed her brow, and Boh seemed not to care at all, but Ivy and Jim both froze at the word blessing. He saw a flash of disbelief in their eyes, and maybe a tinge of fear if he wasn’t mistaken. Their expressions helped validate his impression of the Mother’s terrifying power.

How strong did you have to be to do such a thing?

Hopefully, divinity was not a requirement. After all, none of the four gods were ever portrayed like the woman he had just met. Envy and Prosper were male. Charity was usually depicted as a young woman with blonde hair and a kind smile, and Wrath was known as a middle-aged woman with black hair, alabaster skin, and a big, spiky enchanted flail.

At the very least, Rayden was now confident that a blessing was more than just a word; it was probably a specific ritual that only the most powerful could pass down to others. If that was true, then there was no way he was the only one in Sepith with such a boon, but Jim and Ivy’s reactions made clear it was not something to be scoffed at.

“Is it OK if we continue this conversation tonight?” Rayden asked, when none of them followed up. “We have a lot to talk about, but we should let the mayor and chamberlain know we’re alive first.”

“Sounds like a plan to me, lad,” Boh affirmed, shaking the flagon on his hip. “I could use a top-up.”

“I could use a drink too,” Jim agreed. “Do you think the tavern will have plum bitters and rosegrass liquor?”

Boh covered his ears as if they were harmed by blasphemy.

“Fuck off, Jim.”

“Fair enough,” Quil sighed. “They may think we're dead by now.”

Everyone turned to Ivy, who raised her hand in a stay.

“There’s one more matter,” she said, reaching into her bag.

After a bit of rummaging, she took out a pair of the most exotic daggers he had ever seen. Their hilts were wrapped in a pitch-black leather he couldn’t recognize, and that was far from their strangest feature. Above the hilts, a silver crossguard shaped like a feather held up a zig-zagging blade that reminded him of a steel lightning bolt. It was decidedly impractical based on everything he knew about weaponry, but certainly cool looking.

“These were lying on your back when we returned,” Ivy explained. “Did your new patron mention them, Rayden?”

He eyed the weapons carefully, not recalling any talk of physical blessings, but understanding Ivy’s suspicion all the same. A gray gate could occasionally reward a charm or occasionally a relic, but an armament was practically unheard of.

“Hey, come on now, lass!” Boh interrupted. “Everyone deserves a chance at the spoils! At least let a godfearing dwarven smith take a little looksie!”

Quill and Jim both seemed interested in the daggers as well but were smart enough to be patient. Their chiseled captain eyed the clamoring dwarf with disdain.

“Giving a dwarf an enchanted item is like handing a child an unsealed boomwurt potion.”

Rayden chuckled. He hadn’t known Ivy was capable of telling jokes.

“Aw, come on now,” Boh protested. “That’s downright racist, you surly oak tree of a woman.”

“Yes, please be more considerate, Ivy. Plenty of other dwarves are capable of better, just not this one,” Quill quipped.

“I once knew a dwarf who deliberately blew himself up,” Jim mused, scratching his chin. “He said that he loved explosions so much that he just had to experience one. Interesting guy.”

As his comrades bickered, Rayden took it upon himself to probe the daggers with his mana. He could feel their power on the tip of his tongue, almost as if they were calling out to him. His mana seeped into the weapon and was eagerly received, then he was suddenly given the impression of a torch. Not a literal instrument of fire, but of tinder waiting to ignite.

“Can I see those, Ivy?” He called out. “My patron did not mention this kind of gift, but I think I can use them.”

She tossed them over without a thought, much to Boh’s consternation. Before the dwarf could protest, he clumsily increased the density of the mana he was sending into the blades until he felt them respond. Lightning sparked to life at the tip of the jagged blade, fountaining up a few inches before falling around the steel center like crackling wings.

“Nifty,” Quill said with an eyebrow raised.

“Pretty pair of twins right there,” Boh said eagerly.

“Indeed,” Jim nodded. “Being stabbed is bad enough as is, now imagine being delivered an electric shock directly to your insides! Marvelous.”

“You OK, Jim?” Rayden asked.

“Sorry, just a bit excited.”

He worked on turning the blades' effect on and off as he rotated the daggers in his hands, making the air around them shimmer with heat. It was good practice for managing his new abilities. He felt that if he jammed together enough cold and hot air, he could recreate the same effect without the daggers. Lightning, or at least a facsimile of it, was now at his beck and call.

“Come on, Rayden, just let me have a touch,” Boh pleaded. “You’re teasing me like a barrel of mead without a tap.”

“I’d like to give them a whirl as well,” he was surprised to hear Quill say. “You like me, don’t you, Rayden?”

Her big brown puppy eyes made him laugh. Pushing his greed down, he reluctantly passed around the daggers to his jealous companions. Much to his excitement, none of them could activate the blades. He wasn’t sure if it was because air compatible mana was required specifically, or if it truly did hand something to do with the Mother’s blessing. Either way, he was pleased their grubby little hands found no purchase.

When the daggers made their way back to Ivy, she flipped them into the air and pointed them at Rayden’s face.

“They’re yours, Rayden, but I desire something in return.”

He cocked his head, caught off guard. Ivy hadn’t really expressed anything thus far, beyond demanding they work together.

“I accepted this quest because of your reputation, and I require that you continue the path you’ve embarked on,” she declared. “You mustn’t falter now.”

“Huh?” Rayden startled, immediately faltering. “My reputation?”

“Yes, I asked the adventurer guild for persons of interest, and a woman spoke of an Attuned man who took on quests no one else did. I found the idea of such a person interesting.”

“Aye, I heard something similar, actually,” Boh nodded. “The receptionist wouldn’t shut up about you, to be honest. Said you were a saint as far as the guild was concerned. I came out here to get away from things, and you seemed like the type of guy I could have a drink with.”

Rayden turned to Jim, hoping for salvation. The whimsical man couldn’t have possibly joined up for any reason beyond his exotic fancy.

“Oh, Rayden, my friend, you must know that when I heard the story of a common-born hero gallivanting around Sepith’s rim, a man born of salt, like myself, I simply couldn’t resist investigating.”

His face dropped as he turned to Quill. She started laughing, clearly enjoying his humiliation.

“You’re a well-intentioned idiot, Rayden. Yes, I heard of a handsome hero helping the needy and had to see for myself. The guild woman practically begged me to help you, anyway. Turns out, the man is oblivious, but not a half-bad guy.”

“Damn,” Rayden squinted. “I need to get that woman a gift.”

“You haven’t the coin,” Quill scoffed, a bit more hotly than appropriate.

His comrades got in a few more jabs before Rayden returned his gaze to Ivy, who was waiting patiently with her gauntlets set against her hips.

“Ivy, what do you mean by continuing on my path?”

“You must stand firm when going gets tough,” she answered, speaking the words so seriously it almost felt like a joke. “I want to rely on you. I require your help in building my heart’s desire, and I need you to be strong enough to do so.”

He looked at the others, wondering if they knew what she was alluding to. Rayden sure as hell didn’t.

“Heart’s desire?” Quill growled.

“You’re making me jealous, Ivy,” Boh grunted. “What’s he got that I don’t have, besides a foot and a half?”

“A nice smile and a dark backstory,” Jim said without a hint of shame. “A combination that makes women believe he can be fixed.”

“What the fuck, Jim?”

Ivy ignored the others and calmly faced Quill.

“I don’t care who he loves. I am not building a harem.”

Rayden’s eyes got wide as he shared a look with Quill.

What was he, a fucking concubine all of a sudden?

“So what are you building then, Ivy? What is your heart's desire?”

“I will not elaborate, for now,” she said firmly.

Rayden paused, wondering if his taciturn companion was a mysterious entity like the Mother, blessing them with at least her company. He hadn’t ever understood exactly what Ivy wanted out of this group, and now he was even more confused. That said, if she was merely asking him to stay true to himself or some other trite bullshit, he could do as much for a shiny new pair of enchanted daggers.

“OK, Ivy,” he eventually said. “I don’t fully understand what you are asking, but I can promise you that I will not stop helping people, ever. It’s what I’ve done for the past decade, and it’s what I will continue to do now. I told you as much before we entered the dungeon. You can count on me using my Talent to advance that cause.”

The green-haired woman looked him up and down, appearing to find whatever she had been looking for.

“Excellent,” she said, handing him the daggers with a nod. “That will do for now.”

She turned around as if the conversation had hardly mattered and began walking towards Penrith, leaving him frazzled and curious, but satisfied with his new prizes. Jim followed after her, cheerfully bounding forward as if he were listening to music only he could hear.

“The fuck was that all about?” Quill huffed, glaring daggers almost as sharp as Rayden’s at their captain’s muscular back.

“No fucking idea,” Boh said, with a shake of his head. “Most personality the big broad has shown since we’ve met. But if I don’t get some ale in my belly soon, I’m going to explode. Let’s head home.”

Rayden pointed at the man’s big stein.

“I would have guessed your mug was enchanted, Boh.”

“It is, but there’s still a limit. Sadly, Old Boh has no such thing.”

“I see,” Rayden replied.

The dwarf looked unusually solemn as he gave Rayden a look, then marched after the others. Rayden wasn’t sure if Boh had intended to sound depressed, but he’d certainly come off that way.

Dwarves loved alcoholism, right? Regardless, he’d file that one away for later. Right now, he was happy to have a moment with Quill.

“It's been a day,” she sighed, watching the others move out.

“It has,” he agreed. “It's hard to believe it all. I keep forgetting I have a fucking Talent, it just doesn’t feel real yet. I mean…I also got abducted.”

“Are you sure you’re ok, Rayden?”

“Yes. I’m a bit wound up, but alright for now,” he said.

Truthfully, he was anxious, but more tired than anything at the moment, and

looking at Quill helped calm the existential dread lingering in his thoughts. She was stunning, even caked in gore and grime. He wanted to talk to her more, to understand where she came from and what she believed, to knock down some of the walls between them and see if their spark still remained.

It had been a long time since someone had made him feel wanted.

The prim Mage looked off into the distance as he stared at her, eventually breaking into a warm smile once the others were out of earshot.

“I like the way you look at me, Rayden.”

He blushed.

“Do you?”

“I got plenty of attention at court, but it was hard to tell what was real,” she continued, brushing her tawny hair off her shoulders. “My suitors want to be in bed with my father as much as they want to be in bed with me.”

She moved in a little closer, playfully sizing him up.

“But when you look at me, it’s just obvious that you’re enamored, and I like it.”

“I am enamored,” he admitted. “Being around you just feels…nice. And I’m pretty sure I won’t be attracted to your dad, no matter his title, though I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she grinned, then leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Before he could respond, she turned around and trotted towards their companions–until she froze just a second later.

“Oh, by the way,” she said, a violent gleam in her eyes. “I have no idea what that giant woman was prattling on about, but if I even see you so much as smile at Ivy tonight, I’m going to tear out your eyes with my bare hands.”

She wiggled her fingers for emphasis, then continued on her way. Rayden laughed, but had a nagging feeling he was in legitimate danger. He lagged for a moment, just long enough to swipe a few flowers like his patron had advised, then stealthily stashed them in his rucksack.

Thank you, mystical matchmaker, from beyond!

A minute later, he caught up with his potentially murderous beau, making pleasantly stupid small talk the whole way back, just two enamoured idiots excited to get to know each other.