Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure

Sheedi toured the area to look for a good place for the shrine. I followed along and steered her away from anything too close by. Those had been Ikfael’s instructions to me prior to the villagers’ arrival: the shrine shouldn’t look onto the pool or cause any disturbance for those living around it.

We settled on a spot just above the deer thicket. The idea was that the structure would be a fortified building with a small hall for a statue of Ikfael and a handful of rooms for the caretaker and visitors. Tucking the shrine into the hillside would allow the artisans to dig for additional living and storage spaces later, if needed.

Fortifying the building wasn’t exactly necessary, but Sheedi was no doubt thinking about my safety. I wasn’t going to complain, either. Right now, the Lion’s Cave was my fallback if anything disastrous happened at the Glen, but it wouldn’t hurt to have another. Maybe I can convince Sheedi to include a secret tunnel as an emergency exit?

The Glen’s guests didn’t stay much longer—just enough time to enjoy the cool air around the pool—before heading back to Voorhei. Only when they’d gone completely did Ikfael pop out of the water to survey the offerings left for her. The otter’s eyes shone.

“What about Otwei?” I asked.

“Gone with the rest,” she signed, dismissing the hunter with a flick of her paw. “More importantly, what should I eat now and what should I save for later? Oh, this spoon is made of gold—”

I shook my head and went to find a shady spot to sit. I’d already stored the money I’d earned from Ghitha safely away. I’d count it again later, but first I had to slip into one with the land, merge with the uekisheile, and tune into the portion of ourselves inside Otwei.

She spoke: “The brat didn’t go anywhere. All he did was stay inside that cave of his for almost a week.”

A pause followed.

“There was no way for me to get behind the waterfall to look around. The only time he left was to retrieve the remains of your family, sir, and that was only for a moment or two. There must be some sort of storage, though. He surprised me when he brought out the war bow and brigandine to sell.”

Another pause.

“I don’t know. Maybe he or the Glen’s spirit have a magic to preserve food and keep away scavengers? There’s that healing spell, so we know they have some ability with mana.”

We were frustrated hearing only Otwei’s voice, so we carefully wriggled from the heart dantian up the main meridian in her throat and into her upper dantian. We found one of the smaller meridians that paralleled the cochlear nerve, connecting the inner ears with her brain, and spun a thin tendril between the fibers. We had experience integrating the uekisheile with Ollie/Eight’s body, and the process with Otwei wasn’t any different. If only the signals flowing through the optic nerves weren’t so hard to interpret. We would have loved to see what she was seeing. Progress was being made thanks to the Biology skill and having Ollie/Eight to study, but it was so slow.

“—and if he does know where the eilesheile is, then he’ll eventually go there.” The voice was male and straightforward. Probably Banan. “No one can resist the lure of taak.”

Otwei snorted. “That one could. You saw how he lived. He might as well be an animal.”

“Could we trade for the location? He was willing to exchange these goods.” This was another male voice—likely Kuros.

“I tried, but the little rat wasn’t willing to tell me.” That was Ghitha. We knew his voice well. “All he was willing to sell were some of my family’s things and the trash he’d scavenged from the forest.”

The anger inside Otwei flared, spurring her to speak. “Out in the forest, all by himself, who knows what could happen to him. We should teach him about its dangers.”

“Shhh! Don’t let the dolbecs hear you,” Kuros said. “They’re already suspicious about our good luck when hunting.”

Otwei sniffed. “If they want our taak, then they should do what we say.”

“Enough,” Banan said. “The dolbecs have their place—we gather the prey and they help us hunt it. Anything else is outside our agreement with them.”

“So what do we do, then?” Kuros asked.

“We hunt the kalihchi bear,” Banan said. “Once he’s dead, we’ll be able to search the forest safely for the cave entrance.”

“If only Woldec hadn’t been so secretive—” Kuros said.

There was the sound of a slap, and a thrill of surprise ran through Otwei, along with an underlayer of delight.

“Don’t speak of my brother,” Ghitha said, his voice stern. “You know nothing of his greatness. He was the village’s savior year after year, but Koda and Dwilla ignored his contributions. All of them, all the idiots of Voorhei, treated him like just another hunter. But he wasn’t. Woldec was Earth-Touched and at the cusp of Dawn. The future was his for the taking.”

“We apologize for speaking out of turn,” Banan said, his voice flat. “Woldec was a light that dimmed much too quickly. We can only hope to follow in his footsteps.”

“Yes, well,” Ghitha said after a pause. “I also apologize. My care for my brother overwhelmed me.”

“We will avenge him,” Banan said. “Already, two of the hunter teams in Voorhei have told me they will join us in going after the kalihchi bear, and I expect another in the next few days. With half the lodge at stake, that will force Inneioleia’s hand. He will have to commit the whole lodge or else risk crippling it.”

“Inneioleia is useless,” Ghitha said. “He should’ve been replaced years ago, but our village’s leadership is sentimental. Well, I’ll show them. With you on the hunt, I am confident the King of the Forest will die.”

“And the djiape we requested?” Banan asked.

“The weapons and their people will be transported two days prior to the hunt,” Ghitha said.

“What about the salaswar?” Banan asked.

“The elixirs were harder to arrange,” Ghitha said. “I had to promise the Alchemist’s Lodge a permanent discount in exchange. You’d best be grateful.”

“We are,” Banan said. “As long as we’re protected from the lightning qi, we’re sure we can kill the bear.”

“That was the role Grunthen was supposed to play,” Ghitha said, “yet he was even more useless than Inneioleia. A coward. A damned rat. A knife in the back. I should’ve killed him myself when I had the chance—”

“Easy now, sir,” Banan said. “You’ll disturb the forest.”

“Yes, yes,” Ghitha said. “I lost myself again. My apologies.”

The discussion tapered off after that; Ghitha grew quiet, while the hunters talked of their plans for the rest of the week.

Based on what the uekisheile and I had overheard, Ghitha knew Grunthen wasn’t killed by the bear. Did that mean he had a role in Grunthen’s death? From what Mumu had told me, that wasn’t likely, but it sure sounded like he wished he had.

All along, Ghitha had been my number one suspect. He was the one closest to the events leading up to the murders, and also the one with the most at stake. If I was being honest, I just didn’t want to believe that any of the hunters were murderers. They were all so helpful. Sure, there was probably a good deal of self-interest behind that help, but I still liked them both individually and as a group.

The hunters were plain-spoken people. They joked around, yet still took their work seriously. That was a potent combination for a man like me. The kids, Billisha and Aluali, had helped me find a place to belong. The hunters’ camaraderie did the same, and I was at ease among them.

What did Ghitha know that Bindeise’s ghost didn’t? And how did he know it? The answers to those questions would likely solve the puzzle of the murders.

As for Otwei, I’d have to watch her. She relished when other people suffered, and reading her intentions, it was clear to me she was ready and willing to make trouble. Not violence, not quite yet, but she was only a thin line away.

The Glen was once again spotlessly clean, the offerings from Voorhei carefully tucked away in Ikfael’s pocket. It was surreal watching all that stuff go into such a small space; I was totally envious. Why can’t I have an inventory system like that?

My own haul had been pretty good too: 39 eltaak for everything I’d found at the bandit camp, except I’d held back the knives—all of them—and the war ax. I was sure I’d find a use for them. The war bow and arrows, the brigandine, the zweihänder, and all the rest had been better off liquidated and turned into money, along with the bishkawi hides we had on hand. I also sold off the clothing and jewelry I’d found on Woldec and his family. Ghitha had held and gazed at them in his hands for a long time before proceeding with the sale.

Still, it was good to be flush with cash again. The money could be spent for new spells, proper cookware, iron tools for woodworking, or even real armor. Hmm… there’s also the option of using money for the silverlight tax due to the land knight. I’d just need to figure out the exchange rate.

Once the sun started to settle in for the evening, the escarpment to the west drew a blanket of shadow across the land. Ikfael had us kneel by the pool and wait. She instructed me to be silent. To quiet even my thoughts.

She’d promised something interesting tonight, something related to the Glen. Apparently, we weren’t alone in living here. An elder—her words—resided in the stone under the water and was the one who had originally created the spirit door at the bottom of the pool. I’d not seen any evidence of this elder, but Ikfael explained that she awoke from her meditations only once a year, on the summer solstice, to gaze at the stars.

So, I put my thoughts away—my questions about Bindeise’s murder, my worries about the hunt for the kalihchi bear, my wonderings about how the kids were doing, and even my curiosity about a being who only awoke once a year. I breathed in the cool air and felt the waterfall’s mist on my skin. I listened to the few birds still singing in the branches.

Ikfael was reverent. Just a little while ago, she’d been manic getting everything ready, but all that energy was gone. She was as still as undisturbed water.

We sat until the sun set and another blanket—this time made of stars—was pulled across the sky. The moon came out and shone down on the Glen. Scattered clouds like gray feathers slowly brushed against her face.

At midnight—I knew that only because I’d happened to glance at my Status—the pool swelled, like something big was in the water. I looked over the side and fell back as a huge snake breached the surface, shedding water as it came up onto the pool’s lip. The otter bowed, her paws over her heart.

Ah, couldn’t Ikfael have mentioned the elder was a giant snake? That’s an important detail she missed. I licked my lips and moved back into kneeling position. I bowed and stayed that way for as long as Ikfael did.

A breath released—a sigh that ran through the snake’s body—and Ikfael sat up. I followed her lead and saw enormous aqua eyes gazing at me, the scales around them gray. There was a flick of the tongue, and the snake turned her attention to the stars. She must’ve been at least twenty yards long, but I couldn’t tell for sure, since the coiling of her body disguised her true length.

I took a look with my Status camera:

Silvered! That meant the snake was at least Level 10, which was apparently enough to deny me information about her name and talents.

“Elder, we have prepared gifts,” Ikfael signed. She produced from her pocket a red ceramic plate and placed three of my donuts upon it. Next to them, she put a mug full of coffee. There was no steam rising, so it must’ve been cold.

“Should I start a fire to warm it up?” My question just came out. The situation was so out of the ordinary, the snake’s presence so overwhelming, that all my brain could do was grapple with the minutiae—that hot coffee would be more welcome on a chilly night.

The enormous snake nodded briefly, not taking her eyes away from the stars. Her agreement seemed to surprise Ikfael, but then she got up to help me gather the wood and tinder. That was when it sank in that something amazing was happening. I mean, there was a giant serpent in the Glen.

“Just work,” Ikfael signed.

So, I got a fire started, and Ikfael brewed a new cup of coffee. Surprisingly, she had a French press tucked away in that pocket of hers. I was shaking my head and wondering what else was in there when the smell of brewing coffee hit me; it hit me hard. Memories from my previous life rose up unbidden: The thermos that came with me as a young man working construction. The coffee that had fueled the long days and nights working as a production assistant. The slow mornings with Helen and watching the sun filter through the kitchen curtains. The terrible mud-like brews my children had insisted on making every Father’s Day.

Ikfael put her paw on my arm. “Here,” she signed. “Be now. Lose yourself to the past and you’ll miss the opportunity.”

I took a shuddering breath and nodded. With an act of will, I focused my attention on the sensations of my body. I reminded myself of the cool air, the sound of the waterfall, and the warmth of Ikfael’s paw on my arm.

When the otter saw me back under control, she turned to the stonewater serpent and waited. We stayed mostly like that, near motionless, through the rest of the night until the horizon to the east began to brighten.

I occasionally changed positions to ease the pins and needles in my legs. Ikfael kept the mug topped up with hot coffee, and she replenished the plate of donuts twice. I never did see the serpent eat or drink though. The food would just disappear a bit at a time. Her attention never left the stars above.

Finally, a sigh passed through the serpent, a tension and release of her body. She glanced around the Glen briefly and then slipped into the water. One moment she was there, and the next gone.

Ikfael fell back with relief onto the stone surrounding the pool, and chittered with laughter. “The Elder was pleased,” she signed. “Very pleased! I knew she would like the coffee and donuts. They were so good! You were so good, Eight. Diriktot was right—you are a blessing to the Glen.” She suddenly hopped up and ran to where the serpent had been coiled. “Our reward!”

There were two bowls lying there. One was sculpted from mottled stone, while the other was carved from mahogany. Ikfael grabbed the stone one like she knew it was hers, then plopped down to examine the contents.

The wooden bowl felt smooth when I picked it up and strangely warm, the water glowing golden. While the sky was starting to lighten, the sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet. The air, the ground, and the mist were all still cold, and I felt myself wanting to hold the warmth tight, to curl around it. A serpent was painted on the bowl’s interior; it was in the same Mesoamerican style I’d noted in the bowl that had taught me the Healing Water spell.

My whole being was suddenly immersed in the feeling of being home and of belonging. It didn’t hit me like the smell of coffee had, as it wasn’t accompanied by the feeling of loss. Instead, I felt complete. I felt like I was enough.

The spell drew Ikfael away from her reward to gaze down at my bowl. Her hands rose and fell like she wanted to say something, but Signed Diaksh failed her. Like there were no signs to adequately say what she wanted conveyed. Even the uekisheile came out to bask in the golden light. They’d gotten so good at communicating, but in the spell’s presence all they could say was: feel-family-home.

I felt like I’d come to know well these strange friends I’d made, but the light brought us together in an even deeper way. We were able to experience the best of what each of us had to offer. Ikfael’s hidden warmth and playfulness. The uekisheile’s devotion and bright mind. My endurance and commitment to do better.

We sat in a daze in each other’s company until the spell ran out. Looking at the sky, I realized it must’ve lasted about an hour or so. I was struggling to comprehend what I’d just experienced when Ikfael shook off the spell’s lingering effects and started to hit me with her paws. She didn’t use her full strength, so I wasn’t actually hurt, but the vehemence of the strikes startled me.

“Wait. Stop. What’s going on?”

Her clenched paws continued to strike me, and I did my best to ward them off without harming myself or her. The uekisheile offered to help, but I told them to just let her be. There were tears in Ikfael’s eyes.

Eventually, the otter ran out of steam, her paws falling to her sides. “Bad Eight,” she signed. “Not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What did I do? Was it the spell? I don’t know what it does.”

“How long will you stay?” Ikfael asked. “Until you grow up? Until you grow old? Humans live for such a short time. Your life is a leaf flowing downstream. Here now, then gone. So short. It’s not fair. Not fair to make me feel your presence, only to know that you will be gone so quickly.” She hit me once more for good measure, then turned away to flee into the pool.

I grabbed Ikfael’s shoulder to stop her. “No you don’t. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you don’t go to bed mad. We’re going to talk about this.”

“The Glen isn’t lonely. I’m not lonely. I don’t need you,” Ikfael said.

“Yes, of course,” I said gently. “I never thought you did.”

“How long will you stay?” Ikfael asked, but this time the question wasn’t rhetorical.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” I said. “The Glen is my home. Ikfael is—” I paused, unsure if I should continue, but the effects of the spell lingered, and I found the words slipping from my mouth. “Ikfael is family, and I won’t abandon my family.”

Ikfael’s eyes stared into mine, like her life depended on what she saw in them. She went to hit me, this time on the head, but a second later her paw unclenched and she patted me instead.

“I hate this.” Ikfael grabbed her bowl and turned toward the pool. “So you better find a way to live forever.” Then she dove and disappeared into the water before I could respond.

Question-uekisheile-Ollie/Eight… can we talk too?

“Always,” I said. I felt like a man in the middle of a storm. My emotions were surging, but they were swelling inside the uekisheile too. I had to hold on to make sure the others were okay first.

We felt ourselves. What we are and what we can become. Our thinking—years and years of thinking—has been shallow. We did not know. Even when we lived through your memories, we did not understand. Did not recognize our hunger. For the first time, we became full. They paused to mull over what needed to be said. We will not go back to what we were. We are grateful for you teaching us, Ollie/Eight.

I’d held on during Ikfael’s outburst, but the uekisheile got me right in the heart. Tears unabashedly fell.

“I love you too, little buddy.”

We are not a little buddy. A wave of determination rolled through the lichen. We are family, and Ollie/Eight can call us… can call us Yuki.

“Oh,” I said in surprise. I’d wondered if the uekisheile—if Yuki would ever adopt a name, but I hadn’t expected it to happen now. “Sure. That’s great. I used to work with a film director named Yuki. It means—”

Snow or happiness in Japanese, yes. We know. Our choice is for it to mean happiness.

“All right,” I said, nodding. “We can do that.”

Is there anything Ollie/Eight would like to say?

Tears were still running down my face, but Yuki’s tendrils wiped them away. I grinned at how strange my life had become, but at that moment I knew that I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

“Only that you’re family too, Yuki. I want to make sure you know that.”

I felt Yuki’s satisfaction at having the words said, and their main body settled snugly in my heart dantian. They were home.