Gifted

The morning after my brutal encounter with the weird rat was almost a complete return to normalcy. I woke tiredly with the sun, its pale light passing through the cloudy skies to shine in my window. To say I was still tired was an understatement, but with the resilience of a child who can’t tell when he’s being moody, I soldiered on.

We enjoyed breakfast as a family, with my tired mother more bubbly than usual after helping deliver the Kellins’ first child. A healthy baby boy they had named Francis after Frederick’s own father. I learned that from my mother. Magatha had apparently been instrumental in making the birth a smooth process and even providing some potions to speed up Jennifer’s recovery. Either way, mother talked about how Frederick would need to handle the majority of the work around the trading post while Jennifer and the baby rested. Since Frederick still had to leave for deliveries or collections from the others who lived nearby like Griselda and Magatha they were going to pay Mum a little to attend the shop. I hoped the payment was in honey.

While mum was effervescent despite her lack of sleep, Gramps was the opposite, acting even quieter than usual. He normally took his time to linger over breakfast and chat with mum and I but today he was all business and then out the door. I didn’t find out why until the prospectors showed up to pay for breakfast from mum. Gramps had gone over to assist with their bug problem and also dry the wood of their house. I knew he was probably doing it to make up for me messing with the group of miners and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. In a way, he was undoing the punishment I had inflicted on the men for attempting to grope mum. On the other hand, the bugs had already bitten the prospectors and ruined their food, so maybe the damage was already done. Either way, it didn’t help that it meant Gramps wouldn’t have enough aether to make an aether coin today, which directly bit into my future aspirations.

That one bit me back a bit, I thought. But it was worth it.

I watched the prospectors from the rug near the fire with Etta as we waited for Gramps to return and start our aethersensing lesson for the day. Etta and I even followed the miners to the outpost front door after they ate their breakfast. Watching from the doorway, I saw as they entered their piece of shit house, loaded themselves up with tools, blankets, and supplies, before they marched south into the forest.

Not too long after they left Gramps returned and the daily lessons got underway. Aethersensing passed quickly, as did reading and writing which was cut short as mother headed over to the Kellins’ to help Jennifer and take them some lunch. Grandma Lucille had been watching us during our lessons as she knit what looked like a particularly fancy, woolly hat. Rather than take over the lesson in my mum’s absence, she smiled and shooed us away, telling us to go play. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

Which is how I found myself climbing up the outside of the outpost.

“Bastian! You shouldn’t do that! It’s too high!” Etta yelled from somewhere below me. Glancing down at her I saw she was looking around at the sky with obvious paranoia as though she were the one who had been attacked by a crow.

I already checked, I reassured myself. No buzzards today.

“It’s fine,” I called back, moving my hand up to the next handhold as I hung almost three floors off the ground.

My goal today was to climb onto the roof of the outpost. It was a place I had never been before and I hoped, by pushing myself, it would help accelerate my Path of Climbing which was nearing completion. Plus, it meant I could experiment with my new skill, Controlled Grip.

The skill was a bit of an aether hog, and by that I meant it cost more to maintain than Muffled Steps, which made sense since Controlled Grip was a Lesser tier skill and Muffled Steps was a Minor tier skill. So, to save my strength and my aether, I was only using it when performing particularly dangerous manoeuvres, like holding onto the top of the windowsill with one hand.

Pushing up with my foot while I maintained my Controlled Grip on the windowsill with one hand, I reached out, stretching to my limit to catch the edge of the roof. It was sloped downwards, most likely to keep the snow from accumulating during the winter, but it made for an awkward climbing position. Keeping Controlled Grip going and my fingers tense around the wood I performed a quick transition as I brought my other hand up. For a moment, it felt like I was going to slip and my stomach dropped. A sense of vertigo filled me. The angles were all wrong and with my arm bent in a weird way to hold onto the roof. It was like I was agreeing with gravity’s demands that I should be going down. Then my second hand caught the lip and the sensation fled.

Awkwardly, I pulled myself up over the lip and then shimmied up onto the roof. I wasn’t game to sit down as the angle was steeper than I would have liked. Instead, I began crawling higher, bracing myself with my boots against the grain of the wood at each step. When I finally reached the peak, I decided it was all worth it. At the apex of the roof, I was the equivalent of four storeys above the ground, which made me wonder if we had an unused attic. The thought was fleeting as my mind was instead captivated by the vista.

Towering trees, like a sea of green, could be seen in all directions. Beyond that sea to the east I could just barely make out the distant lower slopes of the mountain where a river seemed to peak out into what I thought might be a few green fields. It was honestly too hard to tell. To the west and north, the Horndale Mountains rose higher into the sky. On cloudless days I could sometimes make out the forms of the storm eagles that roosted in those cold and windy peaks. Today was not that kind of day, their peaks hidden behind dark grey clouds that threatened rain. I spent a few minutes enjoying the view before I glanced back down towards the edge of the roof and asked myself a simple question.

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How the fuck was I going to get down?

The answer was apparently a second round of risky climbing antics while my mum alternated between yelling at me in worry and annoyance. My Path of Climbing was far less angry at me for my risk taking and rewarded me with the single greatest number of steps for a single climbing attempt to date. I decided I would do the same again tomorrow, only this time without Etta so that she couldn’t run off to dob me in.

Going inside for lunch was far less fun than climbing.

“Bastian, what if you’d fallen? You could die if you fell from that height!” Mum admonished me as she laid out sandwiches for everyone. “Promise me you won’t do that again?”

“But mum,” I complained. “I was fine! Plus it… really helped.”

Etta was looking at me in confusion and I didn’t blame her as I tried to avoid mentioning the words ‘skill’ or ‘path’.

“Even if it did, it doesn’t hurt to go a little bit slower. Slower is still faster than dead.”

I grumbled quietly at her response but I had avoided agreeing to the promise. Was it risky to climb so high when I was so small? Yes. Would it have been just as risky if I was bigger? Probably. Was I willing to take risks to complete my Paths? Absolutely. Reckless as it was, I wouldn’t settle for being mediocre.

I looked over at Etta and surprisingly she looked down and away, muttering something that sounded like ‘sorry.’

“It’s fine,” I whispered back. She was just a kid and she thought I was in danger when she couldn’t see me any more. I decided not to hold it against her that she ran and found my mum.

No one spoke for the rest of lunch. My mother was tired from the night before and likely stressed out due to her daredevil son. Etta clearly felt bad about ratting me out. I didn’t want to rehash the conversation or worse, have mum pressure me into making a promise I didn’t want to make. Because if she did pressure me into saying the words, I knew I would keep my promise. I loved her too much not to. Lunch ended in silence.

The afternoon of swordplay went swimmingly, which reminded me to talk with Mum and Gramps about learning how to swim at some point. After all, we had a small creek in the tree line behind the Outpost that should be deep enough. Maybe I could even complete a Path of Swimming.

After swordplay, George was having a chat with Gramps which left Etta and I sitting on the lowest rungs of the obstacle course together. We were both matted with sweat and dust from the workout. But, while I wore a huge smile on my face, relishing the feeling of growing stronger and the after workout endorphins, Etta looked morose.

I debated not saying anything, but in the end my better nature won out over my desire to keep the young girl at arms length.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t get it,” she mumbled.

“Don’t get what?” I pressed.

“How you’re so much better than me? I’m bigger than you and older than you. Mum says I am really smart, but you always beat me at reading and writing and you remember everything Miss Penelope tells us about places and people. Even Dad pays you more attention when he teaches us because you’re better with swords. So much better. I don’t get it. Why are you so much better than me? Am I just bad? Why would Mum lie to me?”

Etta lapsed into silence and I finally took a good look at myself and her. I had been competitive with her from the moment I learned about her aether core, maybe even before that. The reason why was obvious to me in retrospect. Etta was the only other kid I interacted with, and given the nature of the Myriad Paths, time was a huge factor in how powerful someone could be. She was the only person I could compare myself to.

But, in my competitiveness I had ignored one simple fact.

Etta was just a kid.

“Your mum isn’t lying,” I whispered. “You are smart. I’m just really smart. It’s like how you always beat me when Gramps teaches us. I even asked him for extra lessons to try and keep up with you. Know what he said?”

Etta looked over at me from beneath her dark lashes. “What did he say?”

“He said I could have the extra lessons, but that they wouldn’t help me catch up to you. Your aether core is just too big of a… helper. That no matter what I did you would always get more out of the lessons than I would. He said I wouldn’t be able to catch you.”

Etta perked up a little, shuffling closer to me. “Did he really say that?”

I nodded. “He did.”

Etta smiled for a moment before frowning. “If you’re smarter, that explains reading, but what about swords?”

“I can answer that, sweetheart,” George interjected as he approached, no worse the wear for spending almost three hours teaching us swordplay. “Bastian is a bit of a natural with swords. In fact, if he keeps it up, he might be even better than me when he grows up.”

I beamed while Etta frowned a little. Thankfully this time her father leapt to the rescue, saving me from reassuring her.

“But, if you keep up your aethersensing lessons, then when Bastian is a legendary swordsman you could be a powerful archmage!”

“Really?” Etta squealed as she leapt towards her dad.

George caught her, spinning her around with ease. “Of course. Just work hard, my little lady!”

“I will, Dad! Promise!” she yelled happily.

The words left a bittersweet taste in my mouth, a reminder of magic out of reach for now even as I enjoyed their interaction. George seemed like a good dad.

I was about to slip off the obstacle course and head inside when I heard yelling from behind us.

Frowning I turned towards the north, looking across the barren ground to the edge of the forest. Three adventurers had just broken through the tree line and were sprinting for us. Behind them, the trees shook as something gave chase.

“Mountain trolls!” screamed the lead adventurer.