Chapter 3: 3: 2 Years Later

***2 Years Later***

“Step in closer damn it!” Karen said, hitting him with the middle of her wooden sword, and folding Calvin over her blade before he was launched halfway across the practice yard, limp as a boned fish.

“You could have been a natural at this. Could have had a Skill that would’ve made you pick it up like an old habit, but now we’ve gotta do things the hard way!"

“I regret nothing,” Cal wheezed dramatically into the dirt, before struggling to pick himself up and failing.

“Oh, Karen, don’t bully him so much!” Kala said, watching Cal’s morning lesson with a frown. Jinnei glanced over at the girl who’d come to visit every couple weeks for the last two years with a raised brow.

“He’s faking it.” she said, pointing at Cal.

Crap.

“What?”

“He never stays down for longer than a couple seconds. I’m pretty sure he’s got some kind of retard pain tolerance.”

Curses! When Cal had figured out how to bind his sense of pain to another object, he’d been able to impress Karen with his ability to take a hit without giving up, but now it was biting him in the ass.

A shadow loomed over Cal as Karen brought the sword down with a grunt of effort, surely intent on breaking him in half.

Cal may not feel pain right now because he bound it to a pebble in his house before practice, but damage is damage. He didn’t want to spend another night crying himself to sleep. The graft didn’t last forever.

Cal leaped up and tucked himself into a ball, rolling between Karen’s gargantuan legs as her sword destroyed the practice yard, throwing up a dust cloud that blocked their vision.

“Oh, wow.” Kala said, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “That’s impressive.”

“Eh, he’s below average compared to the rest of Karen’s students.” Jinnei said with a shrug.

“Below average!?” Cal demanded before Karen preformed a vicious backswing. He raised his sword to block it and wound up getting his face smashed in by the flat of his own wooden blade, sending him rolling to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Kala asked.

“Probably.” Cal said, staring at the sky. Karen knew how to hold back enough to avoid causing major injuries. Calvin severed the connection to the stone, and his sense of pain flooded back to him.

“Agh, son of a bitch! There it is!” his ribs told him that life was meaningless, and his leaking nose said ‘this is not the way to impress girls.’

Cal limped over to the bench while Kort took his place, the svelte young man handling himself significantly better than Cal had.

To her credit, Kala didn’t ogle Kort’s whipcord muscles while he sparred with Karen, instead choosing to pay attention to him. In the last two years, Kala had gone from charming to stunning, and only by sheer force of will and the assistance of a Warped Skill, was he able to avoid making an ass of himself.

Probably.

She sat with her delicate hands in her lap, watching him with a hint of amusement. Hopefully she was laughing with the severely beaten boy and not at him.

“I fail to see why a shepherd needs to be an excellent duelist as well,” she said.

“Karen’s something of a perfectionist.” Calvin said, wincing as he sat down.

“It’s strange that I’ve been coming here so long, and I’ve never seen her like this.” Kala said.

“Well, you’ve never spent the night before. We do this every morning.”

“You get bruises all over your body and a bloody nose every morning?” she asked.

“Not every time, but usually,” Cal said, shrugging out of his shirt. He was finally starting to catch up with the other kids, muscle-wise, but he still had a long way to go.

“My body is a roadmap of pain.” Cal said with a sardonic grin as he revealed all his new and old bruises.

“I’m so sorry,” Kala said, gasping at his bruises.

His sister rolled her eyes and stood up, wandering off.

“If I hadn’t tried to help you, you’d be –“

“Even worse off,” Cal said. “Don’t forget I was there by myself without any kind of plan.”

“True.”

“Besides,” Cal whispered. “I bind my sense of pain to a rock every morning.”

“Aaaah,” she said, nodding with a conspiratorial smirk.

Cal had the Bent for it.

Will directly dictated how quickly Bent would return to a person’s body, on a weekly scale. Eight Will meant eight spells a week, just enough to keep him from feeling the worst of his daily training with Karen.

If Karen knew he was doing it, she didn’t say anything.

Needless to say, that meant he got a lot more practice at Sense-grafting than Splitting over the last couple years.

A Warped Skill could advance on its own with lots of practice, but had to be manifested first. In addition, being able to practice his magic just over once a day didn’t really make the skill grow by leaps and bounds.

He’d yet to even get a skill to level five since his Breaking. Magic was far too slow, but religious daily casting had gotten Sense-Grafting to level three, leaving Splitting at a paltry one.

The other skills were awkward or inconvenient to raise. Where on earth was a shepherd in a tiny village going to practice acting, reading people’s emotions, or sneaking?

They were bits of daily life, though, so they had each gotten to level two, except for stealth, which was level four.

Sneaking up on errant sheep, sneaking up on rabbits, sneaking up on Mrs. Marshine taking a bath with the window open again…There were lots of uses for preternatural stealth.

After half an hour or so chatting and watching the kids of Deinos getting the stuffing beaten out of them, they all shrugged off their sore muscles and bruises, getting ready for the festival of Hash’Maje Badin.

Legend had it that a young boy named Badin had been chasing a sheep that had strayed away from the rest of the flock, and stumbled into an ancient ruin, where he found a magic sword that allowed him to conquer all of Gadvera and become the first Hash’Maje.

Regardless of whether the story was true or not, there were ruins out there with ancient relics from the former world waiting to be uncovered. Assuming you could get past all the Warped monsters and cannibals.

That was besides the point. Sure you could possibly find an artifact, probably not enough to conquer the kingdom, more likely you’d find something that lays infinite eggs, or makes real good toast, or a clip that changes your hair color.

And you could probably make a business selling eggs and toast cheaper than anyone else, or start a fancy salon and have it made, but the chances of living through aforementioned expedition to the Wilds were slim, and how many people wanted to risk certain death to bring back a minor convenience?

Adventurers were one part gambler, two parts crazy.

The way the villagers of Deinos celebrated the festival was by releasing a brightly painted boar, then the youth would track it down in the woods in teams and bring it back. It was a far cry from a sheep, but a sheep didn’t taste nearly as good.

Boros the woodsman had released the boar into the dense forest earlier that morning, and now the time to hunt it down was approaching.

“So, Kala, what do you say? You and me on a team?” he asked, glancing over at the dark skinned beauty.

“Sorry,” she said, making the half-cupped hand of apology and wincing. “I already promised I’d team up with Jinnei.”

“I told you about it a month ago!”

“She asked me a week before that.”

A motion in the distance caught Calvin’s eye.

Jinnei leaned over from behind the wooden beam supporting the Feast hall and gave him the finger before disappearing behind it again. Oh, so it’s like that, is it?

“And…” Kala picked at the hem of her silk skirt. “I wanna win this time?”

Calvin sputtered. “Win? I can win. I’ll win right now! I’ll be doing nothing but winning, like St. Charles of Sheen. Getting lost last time was a complete fluke.”

Kala chuckled, covering her expression with her hand.

“I look forward to seeing that,” she said.

I wish she wouldn’t do that, Cal thought as he studied her. It was a rare moment that he caught an unguarded smile from the girl, which made them all the more precious.

Cal swallowed the lump of regret and reoriented himself. Gonna get jinnei back for this, but first I’ve gotta track down a partner.

“Well if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go find someone who’ll give me an edge over the dream team. Maybe if I pick Kort you two will be distracted by abs long enough for me to win.”

“That…probably wouldn’t work.” Kala said, seeming a little unsure. “And he’s already got a partner.”

Cal glanced over and spotted Kort and Persei chatting it up, testing the draw on their bows.

Damn!

That didn’t leave Cal a lot of choice, and before noon he was stuck with Baroke, who’d only gotten bigger in the last two years. The boy outweighed a few fully-grown men, and his neck was as thick as Cal’s waist.

All according to plan. Cal thought, nearly rubbing his hands together in glee. He and Baroke got together, picked bows that fit them and made for the starting point. Baroke’s bow could put an arrow through a decent sized tree.

“Seems like a fitting pairing,” Kort said with a grin when they were all finally assembled at the starting lines. “Good luck.”

“We don’t need luck where we’re going,” Cal puffed out his chest and stared dramatically into the woods.

A moment later Kala and Jinnei showed up. Kala had exchanged her typical silken shawl for pants and a shirt, more practical for running around in the woods.

The difference between her usual look and this one had Cal craning his neck and leaning back to keep his eyes on her. He could see the curve of her hips and her arms were completely uncovered, revealing more of her soft brown skin than he’d ever seen before.

“You’re staring.” Baroke said.

“And?”  Cal replied without looking away.

“And let’s get our game faces on. You wanna be the kid who got lost and had to get rescued half a mile outside of town forever? I for one don’t appreciate people thinking I’m some kinda idiot just cuz I’m stronger than them. This whole muscle and brains pairing offends me.”

“Hah,” Cal said, tearing his eyes off Kala. “You said it.” he frowned. “What was the plan again, boss?”

Baroke punched him lightly on the shoulder, which caused Calvin to stagger.

A minute later everyone in the village who wanted to participate was lined up, while those not participating in the hunt got ready for the feast.

It seems to me like every festival involves some kind of ritualistic killing. Not that that bothers me, Cal thought.

“Ready?” the village elder asked, to which everyone nodded, settling down on the start line.

The old man put his gnarled fingers in his mouth and a made a piercing whistle, signifying the start of the competition. Jinnei and Kala leapt up and began sprinting into the woods, leaving everyone else behind with their sheer speed.

Kort and his girlfriend ran forward at a more leisurely pace, probably intending to find some place to be alone. The chances of them winning were slim, unless the prize was Persei getting knocked up.

Most of the adults took off at a more sedate pace, not wanting to steal the teen’s thunder, and realizing that the game was more of a marathon than a race.

We’ll see about that. Cal thought with his evilest grin as he stood up from his stooped starting position along with Baroke, watching the contestants disappear into the woods.

“Aren’t you boys going to look for the boar?” the village elder asked, frowning.

“Damn right we are,” Calvin realized who he was talking to, and hastily added, “Elder.”

“Baroke, hit me.” Calvin held out his hand.

Baroke punched him in the shoulder again, nearly sending him sprawling.

“Very funny.”

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A second later Baroke put one of his green fletched arrows in Calvin’s hand.

Call harnessed the Bent and drew one of the four points he’d saved for the competition to use Sense-Grafting. Suddenly, he was seeing out of the tip of the large boy’s arrowhead.

That thought seems phallic, somehow.

“Go for it.” Cal said, handing the teen the arrow.

“You see, elder, we’re gonna find the boar first, and – OOOAH SHIT!!”

Cal’s legs went limp as his point of view soared upward at a speed that made him distinctly uncomfortable, landing his ass in the dirt.

After a good eight seconds of looking at the sky, Cal’s field of view flipped, and the entire coast of Gadvera revealed itself to him.

Muahahaha! The view from the top is delicious…I think I’m gonna be sick.

Cal held it in, desperately searching the landscape for any sign of the painted boar as the arrow spun lightly. It should be bright red…

Cal scanned the woods multiple times desperately, but he couldn’t locate a single flash of red, although he spotted Jinnei and Kala, already sweeping through the forest, following the stream in an effort to locate it watering.

Where, where, where…

Finally, Cal noticed a glimpse of red off to the side, not even in the forest at all.

Call broke the connection with the arrow as it hit the ground.

“The boar’s up at Farmer Endras’s. It circled around and broke into his guar pen and is currently eating from the trough.”

The village elder’s eyebrows went up.

“Which one?” Baroke asked, glancing to the south.

“Left hand one.”

“from the road?”

“Yeah. About a foot left of center.”

“Alright.” He held out another arrow, holding it out for him. Cal touched it and connected his vision for another point of Bent. Each cast took one point, but the effect became more powerful as his skill went up.

The first sense he could graft was sight, then touch and pain at level two, then hearing at level three.

It was odd that the magic allowed less useful senses as the level got higher, rather than the other way around, but Cal wasn’t complaining.

“Lemme lay down this time.” Cal said as Baroke drew his gargantuan bow.

“Called shot.”

Baroke activated his level five ability he’d gotten from Archery, actively putting a point of Bent into it. Calvin didn’t think saying it out loud had any measurable effect, but they had agreed to disagree.

“Now boys-“ the elder began as they aimed to the south, over the village.

“OOOOHH SHIIIIIT!”

Calvin shouted as his vision was catapulted over the tops of the village huts.

“Called Shot, Called Shot.”

Cal heard Baroke fire two more arrows in rapid succession, but he was too busy gripping the grass underneath his hands and gritting his teeth as he experienced flying through the air in a none-too gentle manner.

Cal’s view began to arc downward, and he saw the target come into sight. The boar’s wiry hair was matted to its side with red paint, and it seemed to be having a grand time eating food meant for Endras’s animals.

Baroke’s arm got the arrows there, and his Archery skill made sure it hit, guiding his hand and bending the odds in his favor. The boy’s level five ability helped long shots even further, in exchange for Bent. Cal followed along with the arrow, watching the boar’s skull rapidly get bigger and bigger until the fateful instant where Cal found out what boar brains looked like on the inside.

Dark, since there was no light.

“Bleh,” Cal said, blinking his eye as he dismissed the bond. “You hit it with the first arrow. I don’t know about the rest.”

“Cool, if we’re lucky, we can head over to Endras’s and pick it u – ow!”

“Ow, ow ow.”

“Now boys,” the village elder said, glancing between them as he hauled Cal up and Baroke down by their ears. The elder treated the big boy like he didn’t outweigh him by at least fifty pounds.

“I’m very impressed by your creativity in this year’s Balin festival, but you are never to shoot arrows over the town again, are we clear?”

“Yes sir.” Baroke said.

“But everyone’s at the – ow ow ow,” Cal groaned as the elder torqued on his ear.

“Are you absolutely, one hundred percent, willing to risk someone else’s life, sure of that, Calvin?”

“No sir?”

“I see. So you were aware that someone might get hurt and did it anyway?”

“No?”

“Well, which is it?”

“I understand that it was stupid and reckless, and won’t do it again, sir.” Cal said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

Acting has reached level 3!

Huh, whaddya know?

“Good.” He said, letting the two of them go and straightening. “Now take a wheelbarrow and pick it up, and I swear to the gods, if you killed one of Endras’s animals, you’re going to spend the rest of the summer paying for it.

The two of them turned away, when the elder addressed them again.

“And Calvin, if you did get the boar, you and Baroke will have beat the village record, by a landslide.”

Baroke and Calvin glanced at each other, whooped and high-fived. Baroke nearly broke Calvin’s arm.

“But you’re not to use that method again next year.”

“What, why?” Calvin demanded. The old man was probably superstitious about using magic or some –

“We need the couple hours of quiet time. You kids burn off energy pissing around in the woods while we set the feast up and relax,” The elder deadpanned. “It’s more than just getting it as fast as possible. If we just wanted meat, we’d have Boros slaughter the thing the day before and have done with it.”

“Oh,” Cal said, glancing back at Baroke. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

The elder waved them off.

Five minutes later, Calvin and Baroke got back with a wheelbarrow full of dead boar covered in red paint, with three arrows clustered an inch apart, fletching deep in the thick skull. The arrows were so deep the bloody tips exited the bottom of the wild pig’s head.

“You could have been hell with a greatsword, Baroke,” Karen said when they got back, clapping the giant boy on the shoulder. “But that wasn’t a bad showing. You could really make a difference on the battlefield one day.”

“What about me?” Cal said, pointing at himself.

“I’m not a fan…But I can see limited use in scouting applications. Try carrying floating lanterns with you,” she said before grabbing the five hundred pound monster and throwing it over her shoulder. Karen carried the pig over to the big hook on the side of the feast hall where she tied up its rear legs and began gutting it.

“Sorry, man.” Baroke said, patting Calvin on the shoulder. Baroke knew that Karen was the closest thing Cal had to a mother. Which is why it was so irritating they couldn’t see eye-to-eye.

“Are you kidding? That’s the first time she’s actually engaged with the concept.” Cal said with a grin. “Most of the time it’s ‘Godsdamned heresy!’”

“If you say so.” Baroke said.

The Village elder walked by and spotted the boar and shook his head with a sigh before heading up the watchtower and ringing the bell six times to signal the end of the hunt.

“Fastest time in history. What, under ten minutes? Cal said with a grin. “Gimmie some.”

They high fived again.

When Kort and Persei got back from the woods, looking a little miffed about not getting to finish, Cal and Baroke were sitting with their feet up in hastily grabbed woven chairs facing the woods.

“Excuse me sire, would you care for some more of the winning team’s ceremonial wine?” Cal asked.

“Why yes my good man,” Baroke said, lazily sloshing his cup before Cal refilled it. As the couple were coming closer the two switched roles.

“Excuse me sire, I couldn’t help but notice how parched you look, perhaps you could use some ceremonial wine, circa thirty-two hundred and forty?”

“Mmmyeesss,” Cal drawled, holding his cup out with a limp wrist as Baroke filled it. “A very good year.”

Honestly the ceremonial wine wasn’t that great, but drinking it in front of the rest of the village as they filtered out of the forest in ones and twos? Priceless.

Kort walked up to them with a stony face.

Cal was eagerly anticipating wails of frustration and the gnashing teeth of the defeated, but Kort knew him well, and he wasn’t one to lose without putting up a fight.

“It’s inspiring how well you two complement each other.” He said with a neutral expression as he came within earshot.

“Huh?”

“I mean, you two really did make a great team, covering each other’s most glaring flaws to achieve something great. It’s almost as if to say either of you on your own would have floundered in the dirt the entire time. Your success here has really proven how much-”

“Bah,” Baroke said, tossing the half empty cup of wine at Kort, who caught it with a grin, despite being splattered with some of its contents. He knocked back the bit that remained with a satisfied sigh.

“Ah…thanks for the drink, sire, ‘tis a hot day.” He said, adopting their mannerisms.

“Don’t make me get out of my chair.” Cal said mock-threateningly.

“Or what, you’re gonna spy on my mom again?”

“I don’t hear her complaining.” Cal said with a shrug.

“Dude, you’re mom’s a cougar.” Baroke said. “There was this one time she caught me alone and-“

“AAAH, SHUT UP!” Kort said, clapping his hands over his ears and running off.

“Winners, Calvin and Baroke.” Cal said, flexing his meager biceps.

“Ring the funeral bell,” Baroke said, leaning back in his chair, bringing the bottle of wine to his lips in a meaty fist.

The villagers streamed in from the forest over time, slowing to a crawl and then stopping once everyone was in.

Everyone except Jinnei and Kala.

Macronomicon

Hope the terrifically uncreative Chapter Title didn't turn everyone off right off the bat.

Enjoy!

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