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Author's note: This part one of the chapter. Part two will publish early next week.

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Because we were establishing a formal relationship between the Hunter’s Lodge and Ikfael, she proposed a two-year test first in order to ensure the tournament was as good an idea as we hoped it to be. Then, if it proved profitable after two years, she’d agree to extend the agreement in five-year increments.

The approach was a sound one, and it surprised me, giving me new insight into Dr. Otter—she could be sensible when necessary. That long think of hers had been put to good use.

There were a bunch of logistics to work out, but Ikfael was okay with leaving those to us and whoever else we brought in on the project. As a spirit of the land, she had a distance to maintain, and she couldn’t be involved in the nitty-gritty details.

While I would’ve loved to see her walking around with an otter-sized clipboard ordering people around, that wasn’t probably the best look for her. Instead, that was where Uncle Kila would come in, assuming he and his family were willing to involve themselves in the project. They’d already garnered the ire of the Healer’s Lodge representing our goods, but becoming even more involved with us might get them ostracized.

We needed them, though, or at least people like them. Planning, marketing, and day-of logistics—there was so much ground to cover, all of which the other hunters were ill equipped to handle. And, while I had the expertise, no one outside of my team was going to listen to an eight-year-old as an event manager.

What my team could do, however, was talk about their experiences with similar ‘martial games,’ as well as predict how people might respond to ours. Apparently, contests of skill were frequently held during festivals, including the big ones in Albei in the spring and autumn.

The contests were organized by the lodges for their members to demonstrate their skills. The soldiers typically fought each other; the hunters sometimes did too, or they’d be sent out into the wilderness search of a particularly rare prize; the artisans crafted ambitious projects; farmers showed off the size and quality of their produce; and even lodges like the philosophers got involved—for example, holding public debates and lectures.

Honestly, the more I heard, the more the festivals sounded like county fairs, just medievalized. And the crowds were huge, with tons of people from the local villages and towns making their way to Albei to participate—to take in the entertainment, buy hard-to-find goods, and sell their own.

The autumn festival was scheduled to take place in about three weeks' time. That wasn’t a lot of runway to plan a big event, but we’d be idiots to not take advantage. The trick was going to be getting it noticed with all the other noise. I had a couple of ideas, though, and the more we talked the more excited I got.

Maybe we could even host a juniors’ bracket for people under ten? I’d learned a lot from my spar with Crost, and a battle junkie like him would surely want to participate. If there were others too, it'd be interesting to test myself against them. Actually, I’d prefer to fight the adults, but the odds of that happening were zero.

Although, I wouldn’t be able to compete at all, would I? None of the organizers would. There’d be a ‘prize’ reserved for our lodge, but still... what a disappointment.

Two people who weren’t disappointed were Yuki and Tegen. Both practically buzzed with excitement-anticipation-worry.

Yuki would finally a meet a dear friend in person. Theirs was a pure joy; their excitement spilled over into my own thoughts, and I had to hold back on giggling like a fool. Their only worry was that the hunter wouldn’t like them.

As for Tegen, this was a chance to learn how to wield mana magic. He had an eisendon, of course, so he was able to imbue magic items with his mana and contribute to the village’s core, but casting spells required more. Just like not everyone could sense and/or manipulate qi, not everyone could sense and/or manipulate mana.

I’d originally thought that it only took visualizing the runes, but that proved to not be the case. There was also an ‘x’ factor required—some combination of sensitivity, willfulness, training, and perhaps a role for talents, as well. Otherwise, everyone would be able to use mana magic.

There were so many times when I’d nearly died after arriving in this world, but mana magic had helped to keep my alive. I’d been luckier and more blessed to be able to use it than I’d realized.

Brujeria ran in my family, and that likely helped. Then there was the role my soulmarks potentially played. God-Touched sounded so portentous, but I still had no idea what it did. And Mana Door? It turned out that no one else in the village had it.

Oh, they had eisendons—the ritual was universally performed when children turned five—but no one else possessed a soulmark to go with it. At least not in Voorhei, and not among any of my contacts in Albei.

Just what exactly had Dr. Otter done? The stinker refused to tell me, saying only that she’d needed to make an exchange to make it happen and one of the requirements was keeping the details secret.

One thing was clear in hindsight: I’d made an exchange with her to learn how to use magic, which meant that she’d needed to find a way to guarantee it, or else she would’ve defaulted on the deal.

And she never told me what she’d traded away. All I knew were the results—the spirit journey where I’d met Helen and mi abuelitos and the soulmark I’d gained afterward:

Mana Door

Silverlight is the only reality, and every being is magical. This soul mark provides access to the freeform mana emitted by silverlight, and allows for the intentional creation of hitherto unknown magics. Because of the eisendon used, there is minimal efficiency lost, a natural affinity to water, and a small bonus to water-based spells.

The ‘cost’ of my eisendon and its associated soulmark was a Level 5 magic dagger worth almost thirty antaak. And I never regretted the exchange either—not with how often it’d saved my life. I’d come to wonder, though, if maybe I’d gotten a deal.

All this was to say that mana magic was rare, and the effort to gain it wasn’t guaranteed or easy unless you happened to have a healthy relationship with the powerful spirits of this world. Having mana magic, though, was incredible—well, calling it a boon was right. In Voorhei, it gave you access to the Healing Water spell. More than that, the most powerful lodge spells required both mana and qi.

No wonder Tegen’s spirit was aflame. The dark thread of worry running through him was overwhelmed by naked desire. His discipline kept it in check, and he participated calmly and rationally in our planning, but his hunger was obvious to me. And apparently the others too. I saw how they occassionally glanced his way.

My way too, to be honest; some of the giggles got away from me.

Mumu kept us talking until about midnight as we drew up a general outline of the tournament and prepared preliminary talking points for convincing Kila’s family to take the job. Only once she was satisfied with that did she give the okay for Yuki to transfer a portion of themselves into Tegen.

If the process worked—and there were no negative side effects—then Yuki would move over to Mumu and Haol in that order. As for Teila, we’d need to get her parents’ permission first, which made me squirm since we’d be lying to them, saying that the benefit was a gift from Ikfael.

All I could think about was how I’d feel in their place. I mean, I knew that Yuki would only do good, but some of the lines I’d promised not to cross were starting to look awfully blurry.

The reality though—the pragmatic, hard truth—was that Teila’s parents would probably pay any price—they’d sell their souls to the devil—to give her access to mana magic. Along with the Woodwise talent, she’d be guaranteed to become the next lodge master, one of the most powerful in the village’s history.

Anyway, we put off the question of Teila until after Tegen’s test, of which the transfer was anticlimactic: Yuki sprouted a small bundle into my palm that I placed into Tegen’s hand. He hesitated for a couple of seconds, and then Yuki disappeared into him.

Tegen’s face was a mixture of surprise and... constipation? Maybe it’d be more generous to call intense inward focus.

Everything okay in there? I asked.

Yuki’s emotions, their affection and care, swept through me. He’s so kind, even more than we thought. His qi is steady and solid, like a thick steak grilled in butter. The damage—one moment—here we are... ah, no wonder he can’t cast spells.

They went silent, and I felt their attention focus. At the same time, Tegen’s expression become thoughtful.

Mumu asked him. “How is it? Is everything well?”

At the same time, I asked Yuki: Well, can you fix his meridians?

“The feeling is... strange,” Tegen said, “but not unpleasant. I can hear Yuki’s voice. They are... excitable.”

Mmm... he’s not wrong, Yuki said with a chuckle. And yes, we should be able to patch him up by grafting from sections of his meridians that aren’t immediately useful. Then, we’ll help him re-grow those missing sections. That way he’ll be able to cast his qi magic sooner—by morning.

Tegen’s eyes widened. “So quickly,” he said.

We can probably do it even faster, but we want to be careful and go slow. It will take longer to fill in the areas from which we’ll be taking the grafts. Three to four weeks, at least.

“And mana magic?” Tegen asked, his voice tense.

We won’t know until we try, Yuki said. One thing for certain, though, is that you don’t have enough qi for its refinement. You’ll need an outside source. Ol—Eight used a thunderstorm, but he has a special relationship with lightning.

“What about if we contribute?” I asked. “Teila is Woodwise; the steady influx should help. And I can meditate throughout to replenish my qi.”

It’d lead to a slower refinement process, but that should work. We won’t know for sure until we try.

“I’d like to learn mana magic first,” Tegen said.

You won’t be learning anything until we take care of your meridians, Yuki said.

“Will someone please explain what’s happening?” Mumu asked, frustration evident on her face and in her spirit.

Haol and Teila nodded along with her question; they’d been watching the proceedings with fascination. Then, when I shared Yuki’s side of the conversation, the hunters looked at each other, almost as if confirm that the others were hearing the same thing.

The damage that was supposed to cost almost a dozen antaak and take months to treat was now within a morning’s reach and free. The other benefits were still uncertain, but I trusted Tegen and Yuki to do their best in realizing them.

At the least, I expected us to be able to double Tegen’s qi capacity. That’d be a prize worth having all on its own. And if, as we hoped, Yuki could also help Tegen to sense mana, then our plan for the tournament was sure to succeed.

Comments

D J Meigs

There’s a good chance the tournament will make Voorhei grow to the point that Eight could become silvered eventually without permanently leaving.

Daydeus

Another chapter to read! It’s the perfect Christmas present!