Chương 39

Tools are designed to be discarded. The ripperweed was massive—a parasitic network of roots, vines, and blossoms that coiled around the poplar tree that now lumbered toward them. The flexing mass of tendrils and blossoms heaved root and branch like a prowling animal. It was not fast, but it didn't need to be.

"It'll reach us soon. The best way to kill it—""It's a tree!" Adhira leapt over a knot of lashing vines.

"And I have an axe!" She chopped into it, slicing through the branches that stabbed at her, severing them at once. Bloody sap sprayed in pressurized streams, soaking the earth that gave way before four more appendages of wrapped vines. The majority of them surged for Adhira, but not all.

"How lovely to be included," he shouted as he ran sideways up the mountain trail. The vines followed, whipping forward in a serpentine cluster.

"Sovereign Sight!" His Talent flared, tracing out the moving three-foot circle around him. He'd never tried it while running, however, and the changing sensations were immediately too much. He wobbled, only to have a vine spear for his leg. Harker skid into a pivot, throwing his leg sideways to evade the seeking plant before kicking off the rocky trail to send himself tumbling off into the weeds. The vines followed, thumping into the earth right behind him.

His Talent caught it all in excruciating detail, and Harker rolled to his feet just as two tendrils whipped past. He evaded them a bit breathlessly, then the third and fourth vines as well. It was… easy. So long as he stood his ground, his sphere of perception was more than adequate to keep out of harm's way. More vines sought to tangle his feet, his arms, or pierce him straight through. Yet each and every time Harker dodged aside, ducked beneath, or rolled away. Delight fizzled across his limbs.

As long as he stayed on his feet, he couldn't be touched. A gale overtook him. Harker bent before it, eyes squinting to make out a large braid of branches swinging down—toward him. Every nerve ending burned to flee, but Harker was done with blind instinct. He stood still. He watched. The pseudo limb flexed as it swung, the gnarled tips slashing for Harker's throat—and its braided branches separated. Now. He dove forward, hands pointed and leading the way.

Sovereign Sight screamed at him, the taste of bark and bloody sap and gusting wind filling his senses—but not as much as the split. He felt its edges and heard their creak. Harker slipped through. He landed in a roll on the other side, hopping back onto his feet with a wide grin on his face. The branch-arm crashed into the mountain, breaking open the earth to expose deep veins of granite.

"Quite nimble of you!" Stillwater shouted from a few yards away.

"Have you considered trying to hurt the thing, or were you just going to run all day?"

"Why would I fight it?" Harker hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

"I've got her."

"Bulwark!" Adhira flew through the air, propelled by a lifting wall of earth. She struck the ripperweed head on, crashing through its branches like a battering ram. Flowers grasped at her, blue petals pulling at the Water in her flesh as vines tried to tie down her limbs.

"Not today, plant!" She heaved her arms wide, stretching the vines to their breaking point. She swung again, and bloodred sap gushed from its wounded branches. The ripperweed had no mouth with which to scream, but it made a riot nonetheless. Petals scattered like fallen snow as it heaved, vines and roots alike surging from the shattered earth. They tore at everything in their path—the desperation of a cornered beast—and the nearest trees fell by the dozen.

"Enough of that!" Adhira sank her axe deep into its trunk. Bloody sap sprayed from the wound and the ground heaved. Roots burst in every direction, creating a wide field of lashing spikes. Harker dodged back, stepping onto the rocks where they couldn't reach—until he was cut off as they skewered from beneath. The roots surrounded him, hunting for flesh, but never quite finding it as they lashed outward. He stayed just outside their reach, his dagger slicing any that got too close.

The ripperweed slammed the earth in the distance, and immediately the ground shifted, nearly tossing him from his feet. Boulders all around him shifted, pushed upward by a platform of roots. Harker scrabbled at the tilting stone, fingers clutching at any crevice he could find, as Sovereign Sight scoured his Locks.

"Get off that thing!" Stillwater shouted helpfully. Harker pivoted, searching for a gap somewhere in the net of roots all around, but they'd grown too high. A dire fence lifted around him, the dirt-coated lengths quivering as if anticipating his fall. He couldn't hold on forever. The quivering became convulsions. Dark roots shifted, a blue-green hue rippling across them before they sprouted green buds that blossomed before his very eyes. Into bright red flowers. Depths!

Harker flared Sovereign Sight, bent his body and jumped. The flowers unleashed a deluge of churning acid, soaking the stone's surface. Desperation lent strength to his legs, but it was his dagger that cut him free as the roots pressed close. He tumbled hard onto the ground beyond, hip torn open and cloak half melted, but alive.

"Crag!" Fifty feet away, Adhira slammed her axe into the earth, cracking stone and loam alike. When she lifted it, the rock came with it, clinging to the axe blades. Harker blinked. Another Talent?

"Jet!" She ran forward, and the back blade of her ax spat out a stream of liquid. No, he realized. Her weapon's infusions! Immediately, the stream became a high-pressured jet that propelled her forward, axe first, in a strange spinning slash. She hit the ripperweed, and the stone across her weapon tore its bark to pieces. Sapwood burst apart in a geyser of crimson ichor, revealing a stretch of pale heartwood. The ripperweed recoiled, its vines dragging itself away.

"I'm not done yet!" Adhira stomped, stopping her spin, before she twisted her spewing axe around. The jet of water hurled her into anew blow, as veins in her neck stood out like corded wire. The ripperweed split in half. Its lashing appendages went limp as the top half fell to the earth with a mighty crash. The bottom, still deeply in contact with the earth, writhed, vines and roots coiling around itself like the dead limbs of a spider.

From his perch above, Harker could make out a gleaming mass inside where water pooled.

"Save the reservoir!" You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Adhira nodded, and with several quick slices, cut it free. The vines, roots, blossoms all fell limp at last.

"Done." She walked back, a strut in her step.

"What did you want the reservoir for? Some herbalist concoction?"

"No. No," Harker said, putting out a hand.

"I can sell it." She laughed and handed him the ossified lump.

"Take it then." Harker gave it a quick inspection. Like the Aberrant reservoir, it was also made of bone. The ripperweed wasn't entirely a plant, and it wasn't entirely an animal, yet its reservoir acted much like a Sea-exposed beast.

"Strange to see bone inside a plant," Adhira said, watching him twist it about.

"But I suppose I've seen stranger." Harker nodded along. The world was an odd place. He wrapped up the reservoir and put it in his pack before turning to the rest of the ripperweed.

"Give me a moment. I have some harvesting to do."

"Take your time." Adhira leaned back against a stone, checking over her axe.

"I'll be here." He made his way down the slope eagerly, blue dagger in his hand. People had died hunted for this plant—it would be an insult to their memory to pass up this many reagents. The first thing he did was collect the acid. He had his vials still from Creston, and he filled them with what liquid pooled in the stones. The tempered glass held firm, thankfully, and the thaumic seals were strong enough to hold it all.

Acid was useful to many professions, but if nothing else, Harker could find many uses for it himself. The vines themselves were incredibly flexible, not to mention strong. It would serve as a powerful rope if he braided it. Harker made sure to gather up enough to make a few spools, before looping it and hanging it from the back of his pack. Last of all, he collected the red and blue blossoms. The blue clearly absorbed Water, though not as much now that the ripperweed was dead.

The red expelled it, though without the reservoir and tributaries, they wouldn't produce acid. No doubt he could use them as an additional ingredient in various mixtures. He would have to experiment. The whole of it took him a quarter of an hour, followed by another five minutes to make sure it was all secure in his pack, before he treated his hip. It was a shallow cut, needing only a small salve and bandage. It ached, but no more than anything else. Harker would survive. They climbed back on the trail.

Adhira didn't lead the way this time, instead walking abreast with Harker. He glanced at her. She didn't have a single rip on her clothes, let alone an injury.

"Is your axe all right?"

"Of course it is. Why?"

"Well, the dual head…the way they meet." Harker gestured.

"Don't the things you hit get stuck in them?"

"You'd think so. It was one of my first questions. But see, this was Loamwright crafted. Anything that meets these blades is split aside." A Thrysalid blade made of a rare alloy and filled with two infusions. Harker kept his face neutral. She's more wealthy than I expected.

"... Or that's what my father told me, anyway. In reality, I don't know how it doesn't catch. I check every time, but even with the wood of this tree, it never remains." Adhira gave a happy shrug.

"Like I said, obstinite. It's a good metal."

"I guess so," Harker said carefully. Adhira cleared her throat.

"You know, if you hadn't identified that creature, we would have walked right into a trap. I would have gotten out, mind, but I prefer it this way. Unharmed and victorious."

"Well put," he said with a firm nod.

"So do I." Adhira patted him on the back, hard enough to knock Harker forward a step.

"I see the value in your expertise, Harker. Herbalism is quite interesting." He rolled his shoulder.

"Thanks."

"Sneaky thing, but once we got going, it was easy enough to kill." She stomped over a patch of earth so similar to where the ripperweed once lurked. This was flat and barren, but Harker couldn't keep his eyes from lingering.

"Yeah, easy." Harker followed, checking the displaced, checking the earth around them for any possible new threats. He saw none.

"That axe saved us."

"It did, didn't it?" She beamed.

"What did you think?"

"Crag and Jet, was it?"

"That's what the thaumist said when the weapon was done. They aren't the original Talents—infusions always end up far weaker—but they're useful, and pair well with my true Talents."

"I can imagine. You're a terror on the battlefield already."

"Thank you," she said, silver eyes wide. They caught the light in a way that was unnervingly piercing.

"Truly, I have striven to perfect my Form and Talent, but I have a long way to go. I'm hoping that once I claim my Boon, I'll be able to push them even further." Was she that confident in reaching the top three in the ranking?

"The Boon improves your Talent?"

"Perhaps. The girls at the Hold would talk of little else, but the tales always changed with the telling. Some say they are boosts to your refinement, others that they are weapons to hone you for battle against Aberrants. All they can agree on is that the winners of the Ordeal rankings are given an unassailable edge." She breathed through her teeth.

"An edge that will determine if they master their Spire or perish." A bird cried out in challenge far above them. Another answered. A cold wind blew, finally reaching them there on the trail now that they descended past the poplars. The forest was finally thinning out.

"Is the Academy that cutthroat?" Harker asked.

"Worse than you can imagine. The magisters provide resources only to those that earn them, and that includes food. All that matters is producing Talents to defend Teyr. The weak are the casualties of the strong." Harker bristled.

"Really."

"Don't get me wrong. I have allies. Factions are necessary among the spires."

"Factions. Sounds less like a school than a battlefield."

"The differences are slim." She lifted her silvered arm.

"Everyone wearing one of these is looking for an edge right now."

"The top three is the goal, I imagine. Power is a potent motivator."

"Prestige as well," she said.

"I'm unsure about your region, but the southern isles are teeming with houses keen on clawing their way to the top—and keeping everyone else at the bottom." Harker ate a piece of dried fruit. He'd been snacking for a bit now, but his hunger felt like a bottomless pit.

"Are Chartermarks fighting each other right now?"

"Yes."

"Killing?"

"... Yes." That lined up well with his expectations. Law 2 existed for a reason, after all.

"It's not enough to get top three," he said.

"They want first place."

"Right. Nations send their best and brightest to the Academy and only have four short years to produce results. A powerful scion means more favorable trade agreements, easier defense of their borders, and national pride. It all starts with the Ordeals."

"And you think you'll get first." He scowled.

"Is that why you came to Phaar? To Vale? To participate in a region that can't compete with you?" Harker snapped his jaw shut the moment the words escaped him. He'd intended to ask why she was so confident. The rest just slipped free. Adhira winced, one shoulder jerking and setting her pack to flounce.

"No, I… Tides. It seems that way, doesn't it?" He swallowed and forced a tight nod.

"That's not why I'm here. The Phaar Region isn't just this island. It's six of them across these northern waters."

"And you're already four in the rankings."

"I'm a Dual Talent, Harker. If I wasn't in the top ten, I'd walk into the ocean now." She eyed him.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No," he said a little too sharply.

"I'm trying to figure you out."

"Depths. You're pissed." He schooled his face. His voice.

"I'm not." Pressure zipped across his Stature. It wasn't a lie—he was frustrated, not angry—but it teetered entirely too close to the line. Adhira clenched her jaw, the muscle flexing across her temple.

"You—I'm trying to be nice here. Stop lying to me."

"I do not lie." He tilted his head.

"Do you?"

"What do you—?"

"Why did you come to Vale, Adhira?" He interrupted, stopping on the path.

"Someone like you doesn't come to my corner of nothing without a reason."

"I—" Harker watched her, irritation fading as the girl struggled with whether to lie or tell him the truth. Which will she choose?

"You're right." A sigh escaped her lips, her shoulders slumped and her weight pressed against the axe she'd ground into the earth.

"I need you to know something. Rank one; it isn't a choice for me. It's a matter of life and death. It's why I came here—I was in search of an edge." Harker snorted.

"In Vale?"

"Yes," she snapped. Adhira took a breath and set her shoulders as if bracing for something.

"Have you ever heard of a Vestige?"