Eight 2: The Way of the Hunter, A LitRPG Adventure
Eight 2: Chapter 4

It was almost seven in the evening by the time we were done discussing my initiation into the Hunter’s Lodge, much too late to hike back safely to the Glen. Instead, arrangements were made for us to stay in the village. The initiation was scheduled for the next evening, and it would be followed by seven days of special training to get me up to speed on the lodge’s practices.

Koda escorted us to the longhouse of Biheila, a widow who had lost her wife, husband, and two children during the last winter solstice—or the Long Dark as the people here called it.

Group marriages weren’t unusual in this world. According to Billisha and Aluali, they were a way for families to bring together useful talents. Apparently, slaves were part of that mix too. Once they were bought, they were adopted as family, but without the same rights as the rest. The word for them—dinshielei—was related to the word for the husk around an ear of corn.

Learning about the realities of slavery had disturbed me, but I couldn’t go around freeing every slave I found… could I? I’d already killed two men—

Aluali took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “You did good, Zasha. You do not need a troubled face. The spear is hard to train. My cousin, Mito, hit his head many times when training the spear.”

Aluali was such a good kid—he thought I was worried about my performance during Inneioleia’s tests. I gave his hand a squeeze back. “I am well, thank you.” There was no need to burden him with my worries. I’d just have to replace a way to reconcile my values with those of the people I was meeting. First, though, I had to get to know the people and their customs better.

Biheila’s longhouse was much like the others in the village. It was made of cedar logs laid down lengthwise. The roof was pitched in the mansard style, like you’d see on a big barn, and was covered in cedar planks.

As for Biheila, a messenger must’ve been sent ahead, because she was waiting at the door for us. The smell of food cooking wafted out from behind her.

The woman was in her early thirties with a round face, kind eyes, and hair cut short. She seemed fragile for someone still young—her lips were pressed tight and her back was hunched. The loss of her family must’ve been horrible, and my heart went out to her.

We had to duck under a low doorway to enter the longhouse, and the space opened onto a sunken hearth, where a couple of metal pots sat over an open fire. There were low cushions arranged around it.

Near the cooking area were a couple of low worktables, some chests and baskets, and a loom shoved into the corner. To the left were a couple of beds, and to the right at the far end of the longhouse, the floor descended into an enclosed area for animals. There seemed to be a gate there for letting the animals in and out.

Under the ceiling above us was a lattice of thick wooden poles—more cedar—that provided additional storage. I saw a couple chests up there, along with bales of hay, a bundle of spears, and a bunch of stuff that wasn’t immediately recognizable.

I checked the kids’ reactions, and while they looked around curiously at the space, there didn’t appear to be anything that surprised them. They politely greeted their host, then eagerly sat to await the meal.

Dinner was a bean and vegetable stew with two sides: buttered blue potatoes and wild plums covered in a mixed-berry syrup. The widow watched us eat, as intent as a crow looking at something shiny. Only once we’d stuffed ourselves full did she serve herself from the cookpot.

Koda left shortly after eating. He apparently still had his own family meal to attend. Once he was gone, the kids helped clean up and assisted with the day’s remaining chores, which had been arranged as our payment for staying the night. They shooed me away when I tried to help, telling me that I needed to rest after the day’s trials.

Well, they weren’t wrong. I was dead tired, and my head was swirling with new vocabulary words, observations, and questions. I’d been so caught up in the day’s events that there’d been little time to unpack everything that’d happened.

One question in particular kept popping up. Did I get handled?

It didn’t occur to me until after Koda left, but we were exactly in the position he’d wanted for us—me joining the Hunter’s Lodge and us helping a village widow. We weren’t going to be her family, though the plan was for us to stay with her on the nights we spent in the village. She’d take care of us, and we’d repay her by helping out where and when we could.

At some point, I must’ve lost my skepticism about Koda’s motives and trusted that he had our best interests at heart. His advice had been helpful, after all.

Inside, the uekisheile came out from behind my heart dantian. They’d buried themselves deeply within me this whole time out of caution, since neither of us knew if there was anyone in the village who might be able to sense their presence. A couple of the people were labeled as ‘dawn’ in my Status camera, so it was a distinct possibility. And during our time in the Glen, Billisha had confirmed that calling someone dawn was a respectful way to say there were at least Level 5.

Still, the uekisheile hadn’t been entirely dormant. A single tendril had threaded through my hair and with that, they’d monitored the situation—partially to watch for danger but mostly to soak in the sights just like I’d been. They were just as much a tourist as I was.

Now that it was safe to be more active, they began trying to replicate the qi they’d sensed from Inneioleia’s spear thrust—without success, mind you, which I found amusing. It wasn’t just me who had to struggle learning all these new things!

The uekisheile sang as they played-practiced-danced. Twist-turn-twist. Circle-around-burn. Twist-twist-turn. Ollie-Eight-churn. With a splash, they dove into my dantian, sending waves of qi flowing through my meridians.

I’d never thought I’d ever hear a sapient lichen giggle, but then, that was my life now. Anyway, back to thinking about the serious things, Ollie. Focus.

First there was Koda. The Status camera described him as dawn, and he also possessed the People-Wise talent and fifty-plus years of experience to polish his leadership and social skills.

He wasn’t physically striking, but sitting with my back against the longhouse wall, letting the memories of the day’s events flow through my mind, I realized that he had a subtle presence. People looked to him for guidance, and everyone who talked to him walked away with their head held higher and their steps livelier.

Charm. I’d bet dollars to donuts, he invested in his Charm attribute. There was probably a Persuasion skill at work too, or something like it. Not that he harmed anyone in the process. No, it seemed to me that he used his powers for good—the good of Voorhei.

And then there was Inneioleia, who reminded me so strongly of mi abuelo; it was the sharpness of his eyes and the way he held himself. Ah, I missed my grandfather dearly, even forty years after his death, and that might’ve made me more receptive to the invitation to join the Hunter’s Lodge as a result.

Between Koda and Inneioleia, it was like getting hit by a one-two punch.

I called the kids over. They had finished their chores, and it was time for me to ask some important questions.

“I made the right choice to join the Hunter’s Lodge?”

Both children quirked their heads like otters. “You think you made the wrong choice?” Billisha asked.

“I don’t know. I did not think enough. I was caught by the river’s flow. By Koda’s flow.”

“He is the village head,” Aluali said, “and we are young. His Wisdom is greater than ours, and the other leaders agreed with him.” He rubbed his cheek, thinking. “We listened for you, Zasha. The choice is good.”

“What do you worry about?” Billisha asked.

“Koda’s skills and Charm. That he made the choice, and not I.”

Understanding dawned on their faces. Aluali said, “There are stories of strong Charm. So strong, people lose themselves to it. There is a saying: check your head to your heart, your heart to your head, and both to what you want.”

Billisha had nodded, and touched her head, heart, and belly along with Aluali’s words. She added: “What do you think, Zasha? What do you feel? What do you want?”

“I want to stay with Ikfael and both of you. I think it is dangerous in the forest, but we can do it. At the same time, I feel it is important to choose well so that all of us are safe.”

“If we want to be safe,” Billisha said, “then we can live in Voorhei. Stay in this longhouse—Biheila will be happy for our help in her home, her fields, and her garden. She has a loom and can make our clothes. You can fish and hunt for our meat. Aluali and I can prepare hides. That choice still points to the Hunter’s Lodge. It is not perfect safety—there is danger in all places—but the dangers are known.”

“That choice needs us to leave Ikfael behind,” Aluali said. “The same is true if you become one of the land knight’s soldiers. You will be away more, going to where Knight Ithia tells you, and we would still live here with Biheila.”

“The other choice is to leave Voorhei,” I said. “We live with Ikfael and ignore the Hunter’s Lodge and Knight Ithia. We visit the village to trade, but that is all.”

“If that, then you do not train with the Hunter’s Lodge. There will be no hunter’s magic, except what you learn on your own or from Ikfael.” Billisha rubbed the tiredness from her eyes. “And we would still pay taxes, but with nothing in return. With the lodge, we pay our obligations, but we get benefits.”

I leaned back with a sigh. What they were saying made sense; I just didn’t like feeling manipulated. But then, it was normal. In Koda’s eyes, we were kids—kids with the mad idea of living in the dangerous wilderness. Of course he’d want to convince us of a saner path, especially one that benefited his village. It would be a win-win in his eyes.

Twist-turn-twist. Circle-round-burn. Twist-twist-turn. Ollie-Eight-churn.

Right. My frustration didn’t help. Did I really want to choose an unwise course, just because my ego had gotten bruised in the process? No. I thought not. I felt not. I wanted not. Instead, I’d choose to be an adult and accept another person’s guidance, even if it rankled.

Grind-down-ego. Grind-down-spite. Go-Ollie-Eight. Fight-fight-fight.

I goosed the uekisheile with my qi, and they skittered away laughing. The little rascal—I had thought they were engrossed in their experiments, but they must’ve been listening in on my struggles at the same time. And then made up a rhyme to poke fun at me! Seriously, it was frightening how quickly they were developing. I’d never met anyone with as voracious an appetite for learning. They picked up words and concepts even faster than me.

Back at the Glen, they’d rarely stopped asking questions at first. Then they’d learned the trick of triggering my memories, and I often found myself reminiscing about my old life—usually accompanied by me catching myself at it before getting back on task.

Sometimes, I scolded the uekisheile for distracting me, but really, it was a minor annoyance in exchange for them keeping to my meridians and dantians and only exposing themselves to the outside world when I was on my own.

These days, they mostly watched, listened, and tinkered with my qi, which was apparently enough to keep them entertained. For that, I was grateful.

Turning my thoughts back to Koda, I promised myself I’d stay on my toes around him—maybe even avoid him outright. He didn’t intend any harm, but his priorities weren’t necessarily mine.

“Thank you for the talk,” I said. “I feel better about my decision and will join the Hunter’s Lodge.”

The children seemed to breathe easier when I said that. I knew uncertainty was hard, especially on kids, and the relationship with the Hunter’s Lodge likely offered structure, a way of life they understood.

“The hunters will gather tomorrow for your initiation,” Billisha said.

“Yes,” I said, “and we will stay through the rest of the week.”

The time in the village would be helpful. In addition to training, I still needed to replace the ingredients for Ikfael’s donuts, as well as to track down Woldec’s remaining family: a man named Ghitha. I wanted to let him know personally about what happened to his brother.

What else? I let my mind wander over the day’s events. What caught my attention, but had to be filed away for later?

“Billisha, tell me about the Long Dark.”

“Zasha remembers there are ten days to the week? And thirty-six weeks to the year?”

“Yes,” I said, “and five days extra.”

“The Long Dark is those five days at the end of the year.” She licked her lips nervously. “They are the days when magic stops, so villages need to store mana for when the animals attack.”

That caught me by surprise. The magic stops—what does that mean? I wondered. The animals attack? “Tell me about the magic stopping.”

“I don’t know how or why. It is mysterious, Zasha. I’m sorry. We can ask Sheedi the World Speaker to explain.”

“There is no magic during the Long Dark,” I said, trying to clarify without exposing my ignorance.

Billisha blinked in confusion. “There is magic, but it does not recover, and qi recovers only half as quickly. There is body power, but only a few train it. This is why the life stone stores mana. Why a land knight’s soldiers and the hunters are important. They defend against the animals who go wild during the Long Dark, hungering for silver and darklight. The more light in an animal, the more it hungers. Power hunts power.”

Holy hells, that explains why Voorhei’s layout is organized around defense. The villagers have to fight off an annual attack from frenzied monsters, as well as any other normal dangers a village might face.

“During the last Long Dark,” I said, thinking things through, “Voorhei lost much. Dwilla and Sheedi said so.”

“Yes,” Aluali said. “There were also the worrying farmers talking to the village head. Woldec was Earth-Touched. Grunthen was Lightning-Touched. The village struggled with them gone. Biheila—” He gestured to the widow. “She lost much. Her family was small, and now it is one. Many people tell the same story.”

That Koda—he figured out that I have a soft spot for helping. Yep, I was definitely handled.

I woke up to a notification. It was dark, except for the phone screen in my head, and I heard the sounds of soft breathing around me. Biheila slept in one bed, the children and I in another, all a tangle. I didn’t move, so as not to disturb them.

None of the skill increases were a surprise. My head was crammed full of words, enough for them to spill out my ears. As for the spear, the whole night I’d dreamt of nothing but Inneioleia’s thrust. Over and over again, like I was stuck in a time loop, except one on a twenty-second timer.

I had been greatly affected by the demonstration, though I hadn’t expected it to be to this degree. And the uekisheile too—I felt them continuing to tinker with my qi, trying to replicate the way the energy had flowed. If the two of us could learn how to do it, then my attack power would dramatically improve. I wouldn’t have to rely on poison, which there was nothing wrong with, but I wouldn’t always have time to prepare for encounters. And besides, the ability… the spell… whatever it was called—it’d been so cool.

How did it go again? I couldn’t help easing out of bed to take the stance I’d seen the lodge master adopt. The uekisheile prodded my memory, and—Yes, it’d been one-handed, with the grip at the center of the haft.

My spear wasn’t handy, but my imagination would serve well enough. Then, in the midst of thrusting, I froze. Suddenly, I felt like I was dreaming again, yet I was awake while the others slept. Why am I doing this now? I usually wasn’t this single-minded, even with the things I was passionate about. This is more like the behavior of a certain lichen.

The uekisheile ducked behind my heart to avoid my attention. I got the impression they were somehow responsible for the strange state I was in. Sure, they’d been able to prod me into thinking about certain things before, but this was my first experience of them actively manipulating my dreams, which then had appeared to carry over into my waking consciousness.

I was of two minds about it. No, make that three.

The first was that, if true, it was a handy way to dive deep into any topics worth studying. It was almost cheating—all the practice without any of the sweat and concern for running out of stamina, qi, or mana. The utilitarian in me loved the idea. I could use it to memorize vocabulary, movements, and runes.

The second was the downside: I felt like I’d barely gotten any rest at all. My thoughts were sluggish, and I would’ve loved a cup of hot, steaming coffee.

And then third: I was weirded out. Seriously so.

The uekisheile and I had been getting along well, like really well, but this was a level of connection-relationship-intimacy that was disturbing. I wouldn’t even have wanted Helen, the person I adored most in the world, to have this level of influence, let alone a sapient lichen.

Stronger-together-we. Ollie-Eight-We. Question-scared-question? The uekisheile’s qi was tentative and reminiscent of puppy-dog eyes. If they had a tail, it would’ve been tucked between their legs.

That made me feel guilty. As quickly as the uekisheile was learning, they were still emotionally young. It was my responsibility to instruct them on appropriate boundaries–just like when I’d taught my daughter Alex how putting a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the VHS player was bad.

I composed my thoughts, and sent them on gentle waves of qi: Things-okay-okay. Surprised-new-impressed. Startled-new-scared. Love-uekisheile-love. Request-permission-ask. And that’s really all I wanted—for them to ask permission next time, even if they thought they were doing something that was for our own good.

The uekisheile stilled as they processed the thought-feelings I’d sent. It was only a moment before their tail started wagging again, though. Understand-understand-understand. Careful-we-careful. Slow-Ollie/Eight-slow.

This little rascal. Ollie/Eight-not-slow.

Slow-slow-slow! Okay-okay-okay. Love-Ollie/Eight-love.

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and ran a hand through my hair. This little buddy of mine was turning into quite the handful. An adorable handful, but still a handful. Fortunately, they were mindful of my request and respectful of boundaries. This wasn’t Invasion of the Body Snatchers playing out in real life. With another breath, I set aside my fear and slipped back into bed.

I lay there thinking until the cock crowed. The chickens and goats were inside at the other end of the longhouse, and everyone jumped at the noise. The sun was just starting to peek through the gaps in the door.

After breaking our fast with eggs over a tomato stew, we helped Biheila with her chores. I was given the tasks of feeding the chickens and weeding the garden out back, but only after I’d failed at feeding the goats first. Apparently, in the future, I wouldn’t be allowed near them again. There was something about me they hadn’t liked. Not to the level of needing the Healing Water spell, but there’d be a goat-head-sized bruise on my butt come tomorrow.

As I worked, safe in the fenced garden, I whispered about all the delicious dishes I knew that featured goat—birria, of course, but also Jamaican curried goat, braised goat shoulder, and peanut butter goat soup. The goats were tied to a post nearby, and their ears twitched as the list went on and on. Maybe it was my imagination, but I liked to think that they learned to fear me then.

I was just finishing up—ladling water onto my hands to wash them—when someone clapped their hands three times in front of the longhouse.

“Biheila, I am Ghitha here, Woldec the Hunter’s brother.”

Oh, that’ll save a trip. Koda must’ve broken the bad news to him already. I wiped my hands on my pants and walked around to the front of the house to meet him. By the time I got there, Biheila and the kids had already come outside. Somewhere along the way, while I wasn’t paying attention, the three of them had acquired flower crowns.

Ghitha was a foot taller than Biheila—lanky too, but so were all the other villagers I’d seen. He seemed leaner than most though. Not hungry-skinny. More like he might be a picky eater. He was also well dressed by village standards and wore a jacket lined with gold ribbon, as well as a feathered hat. There were three necklaces around his neck, each with a different gold medallion.

He wasn’t subtle about looking me up and down, but his face didn’t give anything away—though his eyes did flicker when he saw Woldec’s hunting knife on my belt.

When we were introduced, he bowed low, his hands over his heart. “I greet my brother’s zasha and give thanks for the rest you brought to him. Also for my nephew, Akbash, my family-sister Kiertie, and my niece Biaka.”

“My house is small, but come inside to drink.” Biheila seemed nervous. She’d been the same way with Koda the previous night, but the village head had been able to put her at ease. Ghitha seemed to fluster her, though, especially when he accepted her offer.

He walked inside the longhouse, replaceing a seat and taking care to wipe his hands on a cotton handkerchief. The kids and I sat across from him, while Biheila heated water and gathered mint for a tisane.

“Again, I give thanks to my brother’s zasha,” Ghitha said. “I ask for you to give me the story of his death.”

“I found your family as zombies in the forest to the west. They had fought the forest’s animals. For Biaka and Akbash—a chliapp lion. For Woldec and Kiertie—a kalihchi bear. They delayed the bear to give Biaka and Akbash time to run, but your niece and nephew were caught by the lion.”

Ghitha frowned at the mention of the bear, the first time I’d seen any emotion on his face. “The fight was in the bear’s cave? Their hunt took place in winter—was the bear not sleeping?”

I’d kept the location a secret from the village leaders, but of course Ghitha would know about his brother’s expedition; Woldec had carried a map of the caves leading to the Red Room where I’d found the eilesheile and uekisheile. “I do not know. I found them two seasons after their deaths.”

Ghitha didn’t let up. “You found the dead in the cave?”

“Yes.”

“Can you take me there?”

Aluali and Billisha grabbed my arms, each to a side, as if to keep me from going. Both spoke at the same time:

“Zasha, you cannot!”

“Zasha, it is dangerous! Do not go back into the caves.”

Ghitha pursed his lips. “I wish to give ammilwa to my family.”

I looked at Billisha for help with the word I didn’t know, but she crossed her arms. “No, Zasha. I will not do a thing that would put you in danger.”

Billisha may have refused to translate, but I could tell from the context that the unknown word was likely funeral related. I wanted to keep the Red Room a secret, but could I do it at the expense of the dead? My grandmother would have strong words for me if I did. Very strong words.

“The place is dangerous,” I said to Ghitha.

“The bear is the ippu of the forest and the esselti of our hunters. They should have killed him years ago, but they were afraid.” Ghitha tightened his fist and hit his knee to strike home the point. “Taak kills fear. I will give my taak to kill the hunter’s fear, and then the hunters will kill the bear.”

Somehow, I didn’t think it would be that simple. Yes, money talks, but I’d seen the bear in action. “Inneioleia—”

“—is a man afraid,” Ghitha said, dismissive. “He did not bishtula Woldec enough. He did not bisht Woldec’s zashtain.”

I looked to Billisha for help once again, but she shook her head. “You cannot, Zasha. The dead rest. That is enough.”

“Koda the Village Head has told me that you are an adult,” Ghitha said. “Be an adult. Tell your children to do as you ask.”

Ugh. This guy. I understood his desire for revenge, but no one tells me how to treat my kids.

“I will give you taak,” he said. “I will buy your hides. Take me to my brother’s body.”

“The place is dangerous,” I said. “I will not take you, but I will bring your family’s bodies to you.”

It’d be a hassle for sure—dragging the bodies out of the cave to a suitable meeting place—but I figured it ought to be doable. And it’d meet two goals at once: protect the location of the Red Room while also fulfilling my promise to the dead to come back for them.

“I want to see—” Ghitha said.

“No,” I said, interrupting. “I will bring the dead. That is all.”

Ghitha’s gaze never left me. “And my brother’s things?”

“I have some. Some, I left behind.”

“I would see and buy,” Ghitha said.

“I will keep the weapons, but can sell the rest.”

Ghitha’s gaze was steady, as if he was trying to look through me. After a while, he said, “That is fair. We will arrange a day to trade.” He offered his arm to seal the deal, and I clasped it like I’d seen the villagers do.

He got up right away, as if he couldn’t wait to get out of Biheila’s longhouse, and apparently hadn’t noticed my momentary confusion. In his arm was a spark of lightning qi, the flavor different from the storm qi I’d experienced or the kalihchi bear’s qi that I’d found in the aftermath of one of his rampages.

Why was the qi there? Did it serve a purpose? I had no idea, so all I could do was sigh.

There was just so much I didn’t know about this world—about its societies, about people’s abilities, and about their tools and techniques. I didn’t foresee an end to the learning anytime soon.