[The Twining] 24. Talis (Patreon)

The guard’s grasp on the common language was much better than the scout’s, nearing native fluency. After Isen introduced himself, the man gestured for Isen to follow him ahead of the procession. He waved the leather-clad woman off and she disappeared into the trees.

Isen watched as the merchants directed their only beasts of burden, two horses, to continue walking. The horses were huge and muscular, a single one able to pull five wagons chained together. Were they part monster? Isen didn’t see how such strength was possible in normal animals. Up close, the wagons also seemed different from the ones that passed through Goldbounty. The general shape was the same, but they were hooded by what seemed to be treated monster hide rather than canvas. Their wheels also seemed a bit different, though Isen couldn’t put his finger on why.

Aside from their ears, the people didn’t seem too outlandish in appearance. They wore practical clothes, tunics and trousers for the men, belted dresses and pants for the women.

“Isen, I’m going to give you a chance to tell your story,” the guard said, speaking with a weird, almost pretentious accent, like a noble. He removed his helmet, revealing a clean-shaven countenance with narrow eyes, blond hair gathered in a knot at his nape, and pointed ears, though the shorter variety of the merchants. He was handsome, at least more so than most people in Gouldbounty, though that admittedly might have been a low bar. “At our current pace, we have about an hour before we should reach Shevenar’s gates, so take all the time you need.”

An hour? Isen thought. Then again, he supposed it made sense—the caravan traveled a lot slower than he could jog.

“If I believe you,” Talis continued, “we’ll let you stay with us for the time being and lend you a hand. We’re not so cruel as to abandon a boy when he’s fallen on hard circumstances.”

The guard didn’t say what the alternative would be if he didn’t believe Isen’s story.

“First, what should I call you?” Isen asked, stalling. He had no idea what he should say, but the stupid, inexplicable sense of his was still indicating that he should stay with the caravan if possible.

He just didn’t know what to say—the truth seemed unbelievable, even to him.

The guard smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “I’m Talis, the leader of the caravan’s guards. Now, your story.”

Isen couldn’t lie, say something like, ‘Oh, I was traveling and my group was attacked, so I was stranded in the wilderness.’ He didn’t know what kingdom this was, let alone what language the people were speaking. He didn’t even know what these pointy eared people called themselves, but it probably wasn’t human, given that they reserved that moniker for him.

He was beyond ignorant, which made nearly any story he could imagine unbelievable. He decided to probe the guard a bit. Everyone in Dawnbreak and Eboncall knew about the Twining and the monster-infested dark. This place might not have a scar in reality like the Twining, but the monsters had to originate from somewhere.

“Have you ever heard of a place under the earth, a place without light?” Isen asked.

The man gave no reaction. “Go on.”

“A place with lots of monsters?”

Still, no reaction. The guard’s poker face was immaculate.

“Through some extraordinary circumstances, I fell into such a place, and only just escaped. Now, here I am.”

The guard didn’t hide his gaze as it roved over Isen’s figure. “Your pack is made from monster hide, isn’t it? Did you make it yourself?”

Isen laughed. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed speaking to another person. It was so different from conversing with Ros. “Everything I’m wearing I made myself. The height of fashion, I know.”

“If you really ended up in monster lands, you must have some kind of power to survive,” the guard said. “You don’t seem like a mage, so you ought to be a cultivator. You’re thirteen?”

Isen nodded.

“I guess it’s possible if you’ve been practicing since you were young. Humans are notoriously bad cultivators, but there are always exceptions.”

Isen considered trying to hide the extent of his ignorance, but decided to be honest, at least when it came to his lack of knowledge regarding different types of people.

“You keep talking about humans as if they’re something completely different. Aren’t we all human?”

The guard’s expression went skyward, and he whistled. “Isen, haven’t you ever heard of elves?”

Isen’s chest tightened. “Maybe once.” In an exotic bard story.

Talis gestured to his chest. “I’m a half elf, along with the other guards and merchants. Druinala, our archer, is a pure elf. Easiest way to tell the difference between us is our ears.”

“Is that the only difference? Your ears?”

The guard blinked, then chuckled. His gaze was hard. “There’s a bit more nuance to it.” They walked in silence for a minute; Isen had the sense he’d hit upon a sore point.

“Are you a cultivator?” Isen asked.

The man nodded. “Hollow ring stage.”

Isen tried to hide his surprise. This guard was at the same level of cultivation as he was? Just how common was cultivation here? Talis claimed that humans were bad at cultivating, but Ros had always acted like Isen was a quick learner. He didn’t think the beast was wrong.

Isen plastered on a smile. “How long have you been a cultivator?”

“Twenty-one years. I started at ten, a bit later than most.”

Suddenly, Isen felt much better about himself. “How many half elves are cultivators?”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Well, many learn the basics from their families or in school. It’s enough to bring people to the peak of the hollow formation stage by the time they leave adolescence.”

“What about pure elves?”

“Few of them cultivate.”

“Why?”

“They don’t need the longevity benefit, their bodies naturally absorb the energy of the world and undergo tempering, and finally—almost all elves are natural mages. Even elves can only walk one path, and almost all of them embrace their talent in magic.”

Isen could hardly imagine it—an entire group of people that were born mages, with strong bodies… and…

“They don’t need the longevity benefit?”

The guard cracked a smile. “It’s one of those little nuances I mentioned. Elves don’t die of old age.”

That didn’t make any sense. “Then why haven’t they overrun the world?”

Talis made a conspiratorial gesture, then whispered, “Poor fertility.” He laughed like he’d told the funniest joke in the world. “There are other reasons, but they’re unimportant. Isen—how about you and I have a little spar?”

Isen wasn’t exactly opposed, but he’d never sparred before—at least not with another human, er, humanoid? “Aren’t you on the job?”

“We’ll be quick, and as I said, Shevenar is an hour away. There’s minimal risk of attack so close to the settlement.”

“I don’t have a weapon.”

The guard eyed the sheath at Isen’s hip. The boy just smiled innocently. He didn’t think most people would recognize the dagger’s power at a glance, but he’d resigned himself to only using it if his life was in grave danger, at least around other people who might try to steal it.

Talis smiled again, his eyes appraising. “That’s fine—I never said we’d spar with weapons. I don’t like sparring with live steel, especially when I’m not familiar with my opponent.”

“So...”

“Hand to hand,” Talis clarified.

Isen nodded. “Are there any restrictions I should know about?”

The man flexed his hands. “It’s just a spar. Don’t overthink it.”

Easy for you to say, Isen thought, annoyed. Just a spar. Isen definitely didn’t plan on showing his ability to manipulate external energy—Ros seemed to think that was impressive, at least for his tier, so he’d keep that as a trump card. But with respect to everything else, Isen didn’t know what was normal.

This might be his first chance to find out, and that was exciting. Isen wanted to fight. But his caution dampened his enthusiasm. He didn’t mind being seen as powerful, but he didn’t want to be seen as an oddity. He had never forgotten what Ros told him about seekers. Even if nobody suspected him of being one, there was a universal truth that people who shined too brightly would be extinguished.

But since we’re at the same stage of cultivation, it should be fine, he reasoned. He couldn’t imagine someone at the bottom of the second tier would be too impressive for anyone with real power, the kind of person whose notice he’d want to avoid.

Soon, he and Talis stood a few feet apart, having run about a hundred feet ahead of the caravan. Talis was still wearing his leather armor, and he’d elected to keep his helmet off for the spar. Isen remained in his tattered clothes, though he’d dumped his fur pack on the ground.

He wondered what the caravan members thought, especially the other guards. One of their own was testing the mettle of a human kid. Did they think it was ridiculous?

Talis, though—Isen got the sense the guard was taking this much more seriously than he let on. He hadn’t reacted much to Isen’s story, but he hadn’t called Isen a liar, so he must’ve accepted it as truth on some level.

If Talis had cut his teeth on any monsters, he’d recognize just what sort of hell Isen had clawed his way out of—though Isen figured Talis would assume that he’d only been surrounded by monsters for a brief period of time before escaping. After all, a prolonged stay in the depths would be lethal for almost anyone, especially a kid.

Isen breathed deeply, drawing energy into his core, and thought of Ros, his eyes suddenly on the verge of watering. He blinked rapidly.

“You can attack first,” Talis said, as though he were giving away an advantage.

Isen shook his head. “I’d rather you come at me.” He’d revealed his ignorance about elves, but he would prefer not to reveal his lack of knowledge about cultivation. Isen figured he knew the important bits, but his education had certainly been unconventional. Not knowing how to spar at the hollow ring stage struck him as something that would stick out.

Talis smiled, his eyes gleaming. “Sure.”

He stepped forward and suddenly, he was at Isen’s side, coming in with a low jab. He was breathlessly fast and Isen just managed to deflect the move with his arm and riposte with his other hand, swiping at the guard’s neck. Talis leaned back, then struck again. His movements reminded Isen of water, fluid and unceasing.

Isen had developed a fair bit of pride in his capabilities while in the depths, but he had a feeling this half elf—this random caravan guard!—was going to punish him for that arrogance.

He welcomed it for the opportunity it was.

Isen relinquished himself to his honed reflexes, exchanging blows with the guard until Talis finally landed a hand on his neck. “Death blow,” the half elf huffed, no longer smiling.

Isen slid back and exhaled sharply. He shook his head in appreciation. “Are all guards as good as you?”

The guard didn’t answer. Instead, he stared down at his leather armor, in particular at the steel plates covering his bracers. He ran his fingers along two sets of marks.

“You scratched me,” he said slowly.

Isen’s expression froze. His nails weren’t supposed to be sharp enough to cut steel. Then again, they’d attained a glossy sheen after catching fire in the Compass of Legacy. In hindsight, it seemed likely the change was more than cosmetic.

His stomach clenched as he waited for Talis’s reaction. The guard just sighed and covered his face with a hand. “You know what, it’s fine. We need to get you cleaned up before we reach Shevenar.”

Isen figured that had to be the settlement. He grabbed his pack, then asked, “Do you have water to wash with?”

Talis scoffed. “You need more than just water.”

[ A map of the world, zoomed in on the part that has so far been relevant. ]