Chapter 18: Cyrithasylantis

“Why can’t I see her stats?”

The elf stirred at the sound of Giddeon’s voice.

“She’s not like you,” Johnny responded inside his head. “She’s a being like me—special.”

“Is she waking?” Uzari asked.

Giddeon shook his head, unsure how to answer.

Uzari, Hinelin, Eddington and Oomah all sat around the fire with him at their new campsite, watching the woman warily. The others were at a section of the river a few hundred feet south where Oomah had spotted a school of red fish with swaths of blue painted through their scales, attempting to catch some for the midday meal.

They had returned to their camp the day before, hurriedly tearing it apart and covering any signs of a fire pit, then continued trekking north with the elf in tow. A few hours later, Hinelin had them fashion a makeshift stretcher, giving Giddeon some reprieve from carrying her on his back which throbbed from the kukri wound. Luckily, he was able to boost his Endurance enough once others were able to carry her on a stretcher to heal up his wound—giving him some much needed reprieve from Uzari’s constant worrying.

“That’s odd.” Hinelin frowned. “Usually, my AIGES analyzes base stats from a single encounter. I didn’t get to see her do much, but it should have assigned some stats already, even if just tens.”

“AIGES analysis should be two parts,” Eddington spoke up. “Internal, from the AIGES itself, and from sharing information with other AIGES.” His finger tapped his lips as he stared down at her still form. “Unless something about her is somehow blocking our AIGES, this should be impossible.”

“I’ve witnessed a snake woman in the sea, a wolf creature that can spit out flames, a man that can knock people down just by pointing at them, and another man that can multiply himself,” Hinelin responded straight-faced. “At this point, nothing seems impossible here.” He turned to Oomah. “How’s her injuries?”

“Completely healed,” Oomah responded. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Boost your Endurance and slash your hand in front of her,” Johnny suggested with a chuckle. “Just imagine the look on her face. This one screams a lot, you know.”

No thanks.

“Trouble trusting your allies?”

It’s why I’m still alive.

“Any idea how she’s healing?” Hinelin continued talking to the team’s nurse.

Oomah shook her head. “Modern medicine pales in comparison to how fast she healed. The wounds she suffered yesterday would have killed any one of us. She was critical in the morning, then stable in the afternoon and fully recovered overnight. I mean, I can’t even tell you where she was wounded now. There’s not even a scar.”

Do all elves regenerate?

“No. Most have average Endurance, just like a normal human. I don’t know how she’s regenerating.”

I’m a normal human, Giddeon countered.

Johnny laughed. “Where’d you get that idea from? You’ve got me, for starters. That alone makes you extraordinary. Besides, from what I’ve observed so far, only about forty percent of off-world humans can process mana. It’s way worse for natives. Less than one percent can even gain a smidgen of power from the stuff. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.”

Process mana? “Yeah, you know, receive it and use it to enhance yourself.”

Funny way of putting it.

“Different cultures call it different things, but I wouldn’t be too quick to judge, unless of course you think leveling up is a good term.”

Point taken. How many elves can…process mana? “None,” Johnny told him. “But elves live a lot longer than humans and can gain higher natural stats as well as multiple skills. Some can also manipulate the mana in the air—your games would call them mages. This elf, however, is baffling. While your AIGES can’t analyze her, I can sense her power. I could make an analysis of her and write up a stat block sheet if you’d like.”

Do that. I’ll check it out later.

“Did anyone search her, for other weapons?” Giddeon asked as Eddington, Oomah, and Hinelin were discussing theories on how the elf had healed.

Oomah shook her head.

“We need to search her then,” Hinelin said, standing from his log seat. He took a single step toward the prone elf.

“Wait!” Giddeon hissed, noticing her breathing had changed with his enhanced hearing.

It was too late. Springing up, the elf stayed low, sweeping Hinelin’s legs right out from beneath him as she spun on the ground. She continued her spin, whirling up to her feet and kicking out, slamming her boot into Oomah’s abdomen.

Hinelin dropped like a fly, and Oomah gasped, unable to breathe as she clutched her stomach before collapsing to the ground.

The elf never stopped moving as she somersaulted high into the air, landing in a crouch behind Uzari. Her elbow swung back as she lifted up, aiming for the unsuspecting woman’s back.

Giddeon appeared out of nowhere, his palm catching her elbow, halting the swing. The elf whirled, unleashing a cascade of jabs, elbows and kicks at him. He slapped them away, redirecting her momentum so that she spun in dizzying circles. Gritting her teeth, she surged forward, throwing a heavy-handed punch at his face. He caught her fist, then pushed hard, sending her stumbling away. Stepping back, he quickly raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Stop! We mean you no harm!”

“That was really lame,” Johnny groused, sounding disappointed. “Kind of cliché, really.”

I’ve always wanted to say that. It fit the moment.

“Couldn’t you have said something cool like, ‘Come at me babe’, or even simply done a super-fast triple fist air attack into a crane stance, like those guys in martial arts movies?”

Yeah. No.

The woman looked like she was about to charge him again, then suddenly relaxed, standing up straight. Her emerald eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly. “Who are you talking to?” she demanded.

“You.”

The elf shook her head, sending her golden locks swaying as she glanced at the others, then back at him. “You’re different. I thought you a simple Awakened at first, but there’s more there.”

“He’s right. We mean you no harm,” Hinelin said.

You’re right. It does sound lame.

“Told you. You should have gone with the crane stance.”

“We’re just simple humans who’ve landed on your planet,” Hinelin continued. “Our mission is harmless. We’re only here to explore and collect samples like dirt, and tree bark.” He nodded at the ground and trees.

The elf laughed. “There’s nothing simple about you humans. I trust your kind as far as I can throw them.”

“I’m pretty sure you can throw us fairly far,” Giddeon quipped.

Her eyes darted from person to person, stopping momentarily on Eddington.

“Well, maybe him not so much,” Giddeon murmured beneath his breath.

“Have her throw Uzari,” Johnny suggested. “She’ll literally trust you three times more than if she tries throwing Eddington. I vote Uzari.”

No one’s throwing anyone. It’s just a saying.

“Oh, that’s a bummer,” Johnny grumbled. “I was already guesstimating how far Eddington would fly.”

“Look,” Hinelin began, “It sounds like you’ve had some unpleasant encounters with others of our kind, but I assure you that—”

“You know what?” Uzari’s eyes blazed as she interrupted Hinelin, pushing past him to stand a mere foot from the elf’s face. “If we wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead. But you know what we did instead of abandoning you back there for who knows what to find you? We dragged your skinny, skimpily armored arse along with us, just so you wouldn’t get eaten. And do you know why? Because we’re human. Not all of us are heartless. So, you can just shut that perfectly shaped mouth of yours and think about how you want to thank us!”

Turning on her heel, Uzari huffed, strutting away with her head high.

Everyone was left speechless, including the elf.

“I…am confused.” The elf crossed her arms. “I have seen actions that speak of chivalry, yet several of you wear Lilivivesseoneon’s clothes and boldly display her belongings.” She stared pointedly at Oomah, then Uzari, with her gaze eventually resting on Giddeon’s pouch.

“I’m not sure how to tell you this,” Giddeon spoke slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. “You sound like you knew the owner of these clothes and items we wear. We found them on the body of an elven woman in a cave south of here, already passed.”

As he was speaking, the blood drained from her face.

“She had several wounds on her body and seemed to have sought shelter in the cave before…leaving this world.”

“You could have just said she’s dead,” Johnny advised bluntly.

I see your creator failed to instill any sense of tact in you.

The elf trembled, then fell to her knees. “Lili,” she croaked out, then began to sob.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Uzari said after a while, her tone much softened from before.

“She appeared to have died fighting, if that’s any consolation to you,” Hinelin spoke as the elf continued to weep. “We were in a bad situation ourselves, fleeing an army of humans with unexplained powers that attacked our camp. We…took what we needed to help us survive. I apologize.”

The elf suddenly stopped crying. Slamming her fist into the ground, she looked up at Hinelin, her eyes ablaze. “Who were these people?” she growled.

“Many attacked our camp, but the two we fought were named Lannister and Azazel,” Giddeon told her, knowing what she wanted to hear. He had been in her situation before, more times than anyone should have had to experience. “We only caught glimpses of the others from afar.”

“Lannister,” the woman hissed as if familiar with the man. “And that disgusting pet he keeps around.”

“You’ve encountered him before?” Hinelin queried.

The elf nodded. “Several times. I pray for the day my blade is quenched in the depths of his dark heart and that of his loyal dog! On the blessed day their candles are snuffed out, I will carry their bodies to the Plaza of Enlightenment where my people will sing and dance overtop them like nothing more than simple rugs, stomping their carcasses into the ground as we make merry!”

Hinelin stared at her blankly. “I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I take it you want him dead, too?”

The woman wiped the last of her tears away, sniffling once before standing. “I understand using that which is necessary for survival. I harbor no ill will towards you or your party for taking my dear friend’s belongings. May they serve you well. I would only request one be returned. A book, with no title. Perchance, do you possess it?”

“Sadly, we left all the books behind,” Hinelin informed her.

“Not all,” Uzari spoke up, moving back to the elf. “I have the book.” She retrieved it from her pouch, holding it out. “I sincerely apologize if reading it is forbidden in your culture. I could only understand half of it anyways.”

The elf reached out for it. Slowly, her hand fell back to her side. “What is the title of the book?” she asked.

Confused by the odd question, Uzari looked down at the burgundy tome. “Lilivivesseoneon’s Spellbook,” she carefully read.

“If you can read it, it was meant for you,” the elf told her. “Consider it a gift from the Elves of Espilon, and from Lilivivesseoneon, Issah.”

“Issah are what elves call users of magic,” Johnny explained.

Can Uzari really learn magic?

“Well, she can read magical script, at least,” Johnny replied dubiously. “Probably?”

Uzari bowed in gratitude, upholding the traditions of her culture. “I thank you for such a precious gift. I’ll find some way to repay you and your kind for it.”

“Read the book and follow its guidance,” the elf responded. “That will be payment enough.” She looked around. “Now, if you would please return my blade and point me in the direction your people were attacked, I’ll be on my way.”

Hinelin shook his head. “That’s a bad idea. We were being hunted by one that could multiply himself, and the camp was overrun by others with strange powers.”

“We call them the Awakened,” she informed him. “And they’re human, like you, except chosen by mana.”

Giddeon frowned. “Hinelin is chosen by mana as well.”

She stared the large man curiously. “You must be newly Awakened, then. I don’t sense power emanating from you.”

Hinelin chuckled. “I’ll take that as it is. Can you explain what an Awakened is, exactly?”

“One who gains power from mana,” she replied. “Usually from the death of others. I assumed you weren’t an Awakened seeing how much power is inside this one.” She nodded toward Giddeon. “Most Awakened are blessed by mana at the same time, from the same deaths.”

“Do you mean party experience?” Eddington asked.

“Ah, I’d forgotten you humans all think our world is like a game.” She looked pointedly at each of them. “I assure you, our reality is not a game.” Sighing, she muttered so low that only Giddeon could hear her, “This is all Gary’s fault.”

“Who’s Gary?” he asked.

Her perfectly stylized eyebrows scrunched together as her eyes studied him. “I had thought your power lay in strength and speed, but I see there’s more to you, Awakened. What is your name?”

“Giddeon. Giddeon Seres.”

“I am Cyrithasylantis, the Golden Watcher of Espilon,” she replied, her chin lifting slightly. “I thank you for my life, but I must be on my way.” Her eyes scanned the area once more, searching.

Giddeon walked over to a stretcher—the one they had crafted to carry her unconscious body the prior day—unceremoniously flipping it on its side. The elf’s sword ran under its frame, tied to either side of the carrying handles by vines cut from the forest. Unlocking his axe, he slashed the vine, then held her sword up, admiring it. It was lightweight; perfectly balanced from hilt to tip, with seven elegant runes carved into its handle.

“Here.” He tossed it to her. “The two we fought at the waterfall were level twenty and twenty-two, in game terms. But the ones back at our camp.” Giddeon shook his head. “I couldn’t even tell you their level. You’ll be killed if you go alone and they’re still there.”

Catching the blade, she flipped it in her hand several times, displaying her mastery of it. Inspecting its edge for any damage, she grunted in satisfaction, suddenly tossing it high into the air. As the weapon reached its apex, it vanished. She stepped into him, stopping mere inches from his face. “What doth your eyes discern when they gaze upon me, Giddeon Seres?”

“I can’t tell anything,” he replied honestly.

“Then you have no idea what I’m capable of.” Snapping her fingers, the sword reappeared in the air, falling into her waiting hand. “I’m extremely capable.” She placed the blade flat on his shoulder, then leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “In more ways than one.”