Fluid - 43

The others eventually show up, doing an excellent impersonation of drowned rats. With eight of us in the house, there is only one option about where to talk comfortably. After setting a force barrier above the courtyard, I dry the rain-slick ground.

“Did anyone want lunch before this question-and-answer session that Nanoĸ’s asked for?” I ask, taking a spot near the still-steaming wood pile.

Ipy settles onto the ground across the fire pit from me. “Lunch together is good, but I don’t believe you owe any of us answers.”

With various people tensing up to chip in, I motion them to wait. “It’s okay, I volunteered to answer some questions. While there are some I won’t answer, I’ve already provided information to the elves to get them to take things down a notch. Having told them, I don’t feel right keeping the team in the dark while risking their lives with me.”

“That puts it in a different light,” allows Ipy. “You already provided Phile and me with some information I wasn’t sure about sharing.”

“And that’s part of it. It seems unfair to have some know things while others are kept ignorant,” I admit. “So, food first or questions?”

Before anyone can answer, a gurgle sounds from Nikias.

“I’ll second that growl. I didn’t expect spell-casting to be so tiring,” offers Phile.

“Mana drain isn’t a fun experience,” I agree. It's a bit of an understatement. Feeling empty and shaking inside, without a physical cause to address, isn’t pleasant. The closest thing I can think of is a mix of shock and blood loss but without wounds to staunch or tend.

“Can I vote for food as well?” Myrto asks, holding her stomach in embarrassment when it echoes Nikias. “I’ve never had my stomach complain so much.”

“Your body needs food to stabilise its rush of growth,” says Ipy.

Retrieving a variety of the prepared meals, I offer them around. “Since some are already hungry, I won’t hold up things by cooking.”

Ipy passes the closest plate along to Nikias and floats a light meal that Zosime points out to her before taking one for himself. “It’s well that you have a stockpile.”

“Indeed. This reminds me of one team matter before we get to the questions. I took the materials from the Dragon Turtle to Duskstone the other day, but it will be a few more days before they’re auctioned.”

Androkles takes a lamb dish with a smile of appreciation. “I still have plenty of funds left from the crab meat sales.”

The others give murmurs of agreement, and those closest take selections from the floating plates. I’m sure that Nanoĸ will ask questions anyway, but he passes a plate to Phile and gives me a nod before taking one for himself.

“What did you tell the elves?” asks Nanoĸ when he settles his arse back on his seat.

Laughing, I waggle a reproving finger. “Ahh, I knew you’d ask something before you ate! Others voted for food, and I’m hungry too.”

When Nanoĸ’s jaw tightens, Zosime gives him a sour look. “Did any of the village go demanding answers from you, Nanoĸ? Considering all I’ve seen her give you, your attitude strikes me as rude.”

“Gail’s far more dangerous than I am, and we’re trying to further an unclear goal-”

“Eat up, and then you’ll get answers to non-frivolous questions that I want to answer,” I say, and show him a palm when he goes to protest. “I healed you from a bunch of damage inflicted by the elementals, so your body needs fuel to recover properly.”

“So dangerous, scolding you like a little sister to make you take care of yourself,” laughs Zosime.

Nanoĸ flexes his left hand. “I heard Irene chanting.”

“She was busy renewing flame blessings on blades,” I explain before motioning to his battered axe. “And remind me to make you a new shield and weapons in the morning. I saw the wear and tear on the enchantments today.”

“Hard to miss it with my shield breaking,” comments Nanoĸ.

Androkles glances between us. “Sounds like we missed some fun. You said you went to the Elemental Plane of Earth; you didn’t mention elementals, Nanoĸ.”

Inhaling some food, I mumble around a mouthful. “Hundreds of them. We helped a mining crew.”

“Eat, don’t spray,” says Zosime reprovingly.

Covering my mouth with one hand, I nod before I resume chewing. Protean makes my healing supernaturally quick, but it never complains about more fuel. Clearing my throat when I swallow the remnants, I give Zosime a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry; eat or talk,” instructs Zosime.

My ‘cooking’ is enough to keep conversation to a minimum until all the plates are clear and stacked for washing.

“Alright, I'll answer some of Nanoĸ’s questions, but let me say a few things to bring folks up to the same level first, since Ipy, Phile, and Nakias know some of this already. Will you bear with me, Nanoĸ?”

Since his name means bear, he justifiably glowers at me for that crack. As the initial tension eases, he relaxes against a nearby post, and I resist the temptation to tease him about not knocking it down.

“It might remove the need for some of my questions,” observes Nanoĸ.

“Maybe, but I doubt it; you always have more,” I say, and waving at my face, I continue. “While I’m elven, this isn’t my usual skin tone. My elven species is called Anar, but the Anar species hasn’t been on this world in slightly over half a million years.”

With that announcement, I release my hold on the Wood Elf form, and Protean takes me back to being a female Anar. With the minimalist adjustments I’d designed between those two forms, there is nothing about my angular features to shift. My hair becomes a curtain of platinum locks instead of the shorter cut I had a moment ago.

“This world?!” exclaims Zosime.

“There are billions of worlds in the Titan’s realm,” I inform her, and several of them look full to burst with questions. “Nearly every star you see in the night sky has planets, though most of them we couldn’t survive on unaided by magic.”

“Your eyes glow,” breathes Myrto. “They’re almost like one of Hestia’s celestials.”

“Though my eyes are normal for an Anar, I’m technically a half-Celestial and yes, the names of my relatives are one thing I won’t be sharing. My parentage and upbringing are a little strange and contribute to my skewed perspective—I grew up on a Heavenly Plane.”

“Explains your attitudes towards just doing things to help without charging. Though why are you technically a half-celestial?” asks Nanoĸ, and I must admit it’s not a question I expected him to jump to since the Grand Master missed it.

“An Anar Soul causes an Anar to be born not a half-breed, regardless of parentage. The Titan directly controls the rebirth of Anar souls, and my mother was powerful enough to give birth to an Anar child. My Soul’s nature channels the birthright benefits of the half-Celestial species into other powers and capabilities.”

Ipy frowns. “I overheard the Grand Master speaking with Aggie; he thinks your father is a Celestial.”

“Oh, I let him confuse himself. I told him I wasn’t a pure-blooded Taurë, as my father wasn’t Taurë, and technically I’m half-Celestial. He assumed that meant my father was the Celestial when I was commenting on my species, not my father’s,” I explain and give Ipy a cheeky grin. “I let him run with the assumption. I’m sure he’ll reevaluate eventually and check. He warned me about assuming things when I want to help the village and ignored that himself.”

“Powerful enough? What species of Celestial is your mother?” enquires Myrto nervously, and the effect is almost contagious.

It was so tempting not to answer, but I’d told the representatives; though I have to be careful of the wording. “Mother had recently gained the rank of Solar when she conceived me.”

The frozen expression on Myrto’s face gets nearly everyone’s attention.

“What’s a Solar? Is that like a Valkyrie?” asks Nanoĸ.

“No, a Valkyrie is on the same level with an Astral Deva. They watch the world from the ethereal Plane and guide deceased souls to their Patron’s Domain. That species is among the weakest of the angels; solars are at the other end of the lineup,” I advise.

While the others grow wary at Myrto’s reaction and my explanation, Ipy nods calmly. “It is said that a Solar is strong enough to become a God, but they choose to serve instead.”

That little pronouncement ignites the tension among the others to ratchet even higher. The elven representative had taken that far more calmly. Do celestials hang around the elven courts that much more frequently? Or was it their awe of the Anar outweighing my Celestial parentage?

“Correct. They serve deities, concepts, or specific causes,” I confirm and try for a distraction. “Like patrolling suns to keep forces of darkness from tampering with them, that sort of thing.”

Nanoĸ’s face goes ghostly pale, causing his scars to stand out even more. “What?!”

Phile exhales hard and sets her plate down with trembling hands. “I’ll second that.”

Giving a panicked cough, Nanoĸ struggles momentarily to clear his throat. “Your mother might as well be a God?”

“Strong solars are the power level of some weaker demigods. Mother had been a Solar less than a decade when she conceived me,” I clarify. “I’m nowhere near as strong as my mother, so don’t get in a twist about it. I think we’ll end the questions now. Give people a chance to calm down.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Nikias reaches over and refills my cup. “That explains why swearing to serve you almost killed me.”

Not the example I would have picked to calm the room, but a brave attempt.

Putting my hands up, I poke out my tongue, a picture of pure childishness. “It was taking the special classes that came with it that nearly did you in, not the oath itself. That and you were greedy and took four at once. Guts!”

Nikias slaps his hands to his face and pouts dramatically. “That’s not fair. They were going to be taken away.”

I’ll have to give him a prize for his acting, especially since he’s deliberately hamming things up.

“Yes, but there should have been no hazardous toys for the younglings,” I said, jabbing a finger towards him.

Nikias huffs. “Hey, you’re only a few years older than me.”

Laughing, I hold up four fingers. “Four years, plus I had a head start since I was aware in my mother’s womb.”

“Yeah, but not the centuries I thought you had on me. I’ve got siblings older than you are,” laughs Nikias, his amusement growing.

“Quality over quantity,” I protest before poking my tongue out again.

Nikias scoffs. “So mature; everyone knows when a woman says size doesn’t matter that they’re lying.”

“Nikias!” protests Zosime, and Myrto goes bright red.

Looking between the two of us, Ipy shakes his head. “I know Gail sings, but not that you were looking to be bards specialising in comedy.”

Nikias waves his hands in the air. “They were flipping around like a fish on deck. You all had Gail wishing she had a rock to hide under.”

“Cheater,” I huff.

Nikias shoots me a mischievous grin. “Most of the time I’ve got no idea what you’re thinking, but your expression made it obvious.”

“Not quite a rock, since I have a tower to flee to now before I die of embarrassment,” I sigh. “Look, I get it. You find the very concept of my family intimidating. I find my family intimidating, and I’m sure nothing I do will ever come close to matching them. They are who they are and are not the type to act wrathful.”

“That’s your view of your family,” comments Nanoĸ, his hand gripping the edge of the stairs.

Shaking my head, I gesture towards Ipy. “Ipy’s met father, although he likely doesn’t remember him, that’s how easily he can blend in when he wants.”

Nanoĸ glances toward Sanctuary despite the blocked view before looking back at me. “Then what’s with your aunt Sarah and warning me she’ll bite my head off if I annoy her?”

“Sarah won’t come after you if something that wasn’t your fault happens to me, and neither would my family. Sarah’s complicated and annoying someone who’s gained a Tier 7 evolution Prestige Class is dangerous.”

“What even is that?” demands Nanoĸ.

“Go to level one hundred in four classes. Have the right achievements, and you’ll earn a Prestige Class and a species change,” I recite, and Nanoĸ’s eyes bulge out like a landed fish. “Sarah started as a Human two species changes ago and has a different mindset to you, Nanoĸ. My aunt is dedicated to Order, and she’ll teach you lessons you’d likely have preferred to avoid if you annoy or try to hurt her. That’s all the warning and information I’ll give you about her.”

That one species change wasn’t from a Prestige Class is something they don’t need to know.

Nanoĸ pales again but still growls. “The Guild hasn’t even confirmed Tier 7.”

“Which is stupid because I know members of your Guild that have them. Just because the Guild wants to blinker itself and restrict what its members are told doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” I retort. “Go ask Aggie, Yngvarr, and Alfarr what Prestige classes they possess. I know they’ve each got a Tier 7. Aggie also has a Tier 6—which Imhotep didn’t want to believe existed either.”

At that, Nanoĸ goes silent, and Phile chimes in. “You said your mother is a Solar. What species is your father?”

Technically, I said Mother had gained Solar, so Phile went with the logical assumption. “He was Human, but he earned immortality by decapitating a Demon Lord during the Gods’ War. I haven’t told the elves; I figured their brains would explode like yours are doing with me being technically half-Celestial. Then again, you should have seen the Grand Master’s eyes bulging bigger than a fish.”

“Earned immortality?” asks Ipy, his gaze widening in realisation. “I remember your father; he taught me how to tumble to cheer me up. A hawk-faced Persian the ladies of the Cadre called Master Farhad.”

“Didn’t you say something about your father being here when humans arrived?” accuses Nanoĸ.

“My father gained the secret to living thousands of years before the scourge drove humans west; he gained true Immortality during the war. He remembers humans arriving because he was on one of the first boats in the evacuation fleet that landed west of here.”

Nanoĸ groans. “I assumed he was an Elf.”

“Assumptions can be bad for your health,” I caution him; his jumping between anger and suspicion is starting to grate. “Are we done with questions because I want to discuss the peninsula?”

“Why weren’t you just reborn to another Anar?” enquires Nanoĸ.

“There are only two other Anar souls left in the Titan’s realm, and I’m the only one alive in a Mortal flesh and blood sense,” I say, and the words hurt. It’s easier to fake not being alone when I’m disguised as a species other people recognise.

Auntie Am might be centuries getting free from her curse, and while Isa can use True Song now that she’s become a Celestial, she’ll never be reborn again. I might forever be alone, even in a crowd.

As the silence grows, Ipy coughs. “I feel that is enough questions for today.”

“Where are the rest?” persists Nanoĸ

“The Titan let them move onto other realms, where the different rules might allow them to be reborn,” I explain and hold up my hand. “The next question better be good, and only about me, or I won’t answer any more questions not directly related to the team, ever.”

Nanoĸ freezes with his mouth open and shuts it with a snap.

“Nothing?”

When he shakes his head, I use an illusion Spell, I display my two maps in midair side by side, a glowing dot shows roughly where Apollo’s Reach sits. Aunt Sarah says it's a copy of the Florida peninsula on my original world but, other than the memories she’s shared, I don’t remember it.

“The map where the peninsula is just a stub was what it was like when the elves arrived on this continent, and the other one is the current length. From my information, the key I’m after went down on a ship somewhere in the last two hundred kilometres of the current day peninsula. At best, that guess is rough; at worst, it’s hopelessly off.”

Nanoĸ looks the maps over before he frowns. “That sounds like a hopeless search.”

“There is always hope,” says Phile with conviction.

“You’re stealing Ipy’s lines,” observes Myrto.

Smiling at her, Ipy shrugs. “As long as people keep hope in mind, that’s enough.”

“And by searching for it, we’ll get stronger as we go,” I offer. “The good news is if we get close to what I’m after, I’ll be able to hear it, so we don’t have to scour the peninsula a metre at a time.”

“If we find this key, what then?” asks Nanoĸ.

“I’ll find you a rich reward if that interests you.”

My offer has Nanoĸ’s mouth tightening, the interconnecting burn scars twisting the skin across his face.

“There is a location infested with fire wraiths deep inland along the peninsula. After we find this key, help me wipe them out,” requests Nanoĸ. “I’ll admit I’ve no idea how many there are, but scores at least.”

“Fire wraiths transform those they kill into undead,” cautions Ipy, and realising the implications, he winces and apologises.

Nanoĸ shakes his head, and his ready anger flows away. “Flaming figures appeared on the edge of our camp at night. Some of my last team, including my younger sister, are now among the fire wraiths.”

“Some? Where are the rest?” whispers Nikias.

“The surviving Priest from our team and I got them out of the swamp. Then they all left,” explains Nanoĸ, his words devoid of all emotion.

The burn marks on his face have more significant meaning, and I wonder if that is part of his resistance to my offer to heal them. “I’ll help.”

Drats!

Three conditions prevail within all types of spectral undead I’ve fought. I hope these just create an echo of the living they kill. Others I’ve fought trap the souls of those they’ve slain in a tormented state, and the worst feed off them.

He gets to his feet and beckons to Nikias and Myrto. “Come along. Time to get back to it.”

It’s little wonder he wants them to be strong before going any distance along the peninsula.