Chapter 4: We Moss Do Lunch Sometime

The next morning, Cantor found Cecilia as she sat in the Moss House’s common room, yawning over a hot bowl of porridge and some unfamiliar tea blend. The porridge was almost like oatmeal, although there were flecks of green leaves throughout that gave it a sweetness she’d normally expect from sugar or syrup. The tea was refreshing and sharp, almost spicy on her tongue, radiating warmth. She was the only guest sitting in the room when Cantor arrived, a leather pack tucked under his arm. He lit up when he saw her, waving in an absent way to the keeper of Moss House, an elderly man visible from the open doorway to the kitchen. “Miss Cecilia! You’re here! And awake!” He slid in across from her.

Cecilia’s eyebrows went up. “Were either of those things in doubt? And, seriously, just Cecilia.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. He sat the pack on the table and gestured at it. “Here, this is for you. Since your gear was taken.” He glanced towards the kitchen and lowered his voice. “In light of our conversation, I thought that you might have decided that leaving was safer.”

“Where would I go?” Cecilia pulled the pack to her bench. It was far simpler than a backpack she was used to - more like a duffle bag, really, with one central strap that seemed designed to go across her front. It was stiff leather on the outside, closed with laces at the top. “I don’t know where anything is, and,” she looked at him as her fingers worked the laces free, “you’ve been a good guy, so far. I wouldn’t just disappear on Shin. Or you. Besides, I signed a contract for a month with the Guild.”

He grinned. “Wonderful! A month should be enough time to prepare you for the next steps.” At her skeptical expression, he continued, “If you want to have any hope of finding - or creating - a Door of Diamond, it won’t be in Ikshan. We should consult the Codex of Travelers, but that’s a fairly rare text. We’ll need a city that has a branch of the Exalted Circle so that I can contact someone about access.”

“That...makes sense,” Cecilia allowed, turning her attention back to the bag as she opened it. “Oh, wow. There’s a lot of stuff in here.” Five rigid flasks took up much of the room.

When she lifted one, Cantor said, “Potion. Each flask has two doses. Two days. I need to get more ingredients, now, but that gives you nearly a fortnight of protection.”

They were going to taste awful. She smiled anyway. “Thank you. I’ll help, if I can. To replace it.” That wasn’t all the bag held, though - there were other things that she assumed were basic adventuring supplies, as well. A sewing kit, a ceramic jar of the healing salve he’d used yesterday, a tightly folded sheet of waterproofed fabric, a small stick of dark rock that ended up being a firestarter with what he called a “tiny enchantment, barely even magic at all” attached to it. Not having to figure out how to use a tinderbox or something else was, she had to admit, a relief. “No ten foot pole?” she asked as she reached the bottom, then shook her head at his baffled expression. “Sorry. One of those jokes.”

Still, it was a lot. Cecilia chewed at her lower lip, then reached for the little pouch Shin had given her. She’d paid for the room a month in advance; it’d taken up a good chunk of her pay, but the price included meals for mornings and dinner, and it wasn’t as if she had any other options - Moss House was the only place that rented rooms in a town this small. But she still had one silver stick remaining, and she took it out and placed it before him.

Cantor looked down at it, his nose wrinkled. “What is this?”

“If it’s not enough--”

“That’s not what I mean,” he said, with a sharp motion of his hand. “You don’t have to pay me.”

A short, sharp huff through her nose. “This looks like a good bag. These potions cleaned you out of some ingredients. And while it may be a ‘tiny’ enchantment on that stick, I bet it’s more than most people have. I can’t just take from you, Cantor.”

“You’re not,” he insisted, leaning forward. His silver eyes locked on hers. “Don’t you understand? I should be paying you, if anything. You’re providing me more opportunity to study in my chosen field than I could ever have expected. I came to Ikshan because frontiers often encourage unusual Class combinations, and unusual skills and techniques. They aren’t as regimented as the cities, and with higher levels of danger, you often see higher levels of Classes as well. But I never expected you .”

He picked up the stick, and offered it back to her. “You have no idea how grateful I am, Cecilia Rojas, that you exist.” To her surprise, he even got her last name right, although the lilt of it didn’t seem to be common in Ikshan. “That you’re willing to talk to me. Don’t insult me by trying to pay me for the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

If Cecilia had the capillaries to blush, she’d be blushing now. She put the silver stick away. “Okay, okay, just tone it down a bit, all right? And thank you, for the aid and the bag and everything.” She rolled the bright metal between her fingers. “I guess I just don’t feel like just existing is enough of a compensation for what I’m asking for.”

He grinned, his earlier offense evaporating like steam off the top of her porridge. “I am going to ask so many questions, you may end up thinking that you’re getting the worst part of the deal.” Propping his forearms on the table, Cantor leaned forward. “For example. Have you assigned your level three points yet? What did you choose?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that.”

“I don’t want to tell you what to pick! Or bias you in any fashion. But I’m desperately curious. Obviously, your Unique Class isn’t in any of the Codices, and I’ve never seen one for the other Class, either.”

“Fair enough,” Cecilia murmured. After another few bites of porridge so that she wasn’t left with a cold, congealed breakfast, she gave him a basic overview of her Classes and their skills.

He scrambled for his notebook, and scribbled furiously as she spoke. He didn’t interrupt, although she could see him practically vibrating with the urge in places. When he realized that she was done, Cantor said, “You’re remarkably lucky. It looks as if the combination of Class and Subclass is synergized to give you considerable flexibility in your development. Most classes tend to have a leaning - warrior, occult, support would be what we’d call the broadest categories. But while your primary Class clearly leans warrior, your Subclass has a good balance of occult and support features.”

“Do you know why I have that one tree? Soul of Vengeance?”

Cantor winced. “Probably because you know you were murdered. The circumstances of the formation of a Class can influence its skill trees. Our Classes reflect our motivation to pursue our desires or needs - somewhere inside of you, there’s a need to see your murderer found and punished.”

Punished. The word sent a thrill of emotion through Cecilia. She’d tried not to think about it. About the fact that someone had killed her. For what? It had been easy to push away the speculation in the avalanche of information that was the last two days. But now, she found herself saying, slowly, “Yes.” Tasting the idea. It tasted bitter on the tongue, but she liked it, anyway. “I absolutely want to know who-- why --someone killed me. Is that possible? From here?”

“I don’t know,” Cantor admitted. “Just because you have skill trees related to the desire doesn’t mean that it can be realized. But I can’t say it’s impossible.” His gaze slid away, became distant. “Maybe if we find a way to establish a Door of Smoke? Perhaps you could reach the dreams of people in your world, communicate with them.”

He’d mentioned that before, but she’d blown right past it in favor of physical travel between the world. In favor of going home. “Is it easier? To find one?”

“Comparatively? Yes. At least there are records of it, although none recent. But with research--”

“Do it.” She winced. “I mean. I’m not the boss of you. But if there’s any chance, I want to pursue it.” A thought came to her. “This Soul of Vengeance tree. I haven’t touched it. But could it have a skill somewhere in there that would make it easier?”

“Maybe.” It was a reluctant admission. “I don’t know. And I don’t want to prejudice your growth--”

A flash of light caught Cecilia’s eyes; the main door opened, and Shin practically bounded through, looking rested and far happier than she had before. Her arm was bandaged, but she didn’t seem to be favoring it. Cantor hastily closed his notebook as she waved. Cecilia stuffed another spoonful of porridge in her mouth before waving back. Just us innocent chipmunks here, hiding nothing.

Shin settled in on a seat, looked them both over, and said, “You think you are so clever.” This mostly seemed to be aimed at Cantor, but when she waggled a finger, it was at both of them. “But I have figured you out. It was not even hard, once I thought about it. I know what you two are hiding.”

“Y-you do?” Cantor swallowed hard. Cecilia made a note to never let him play poker.

Shin grinned, visibly smug. “Of course! I’m not a fool, and you,” this time it was definitely aimed at Cantor, “are not a good liar. Necromancer taint. Pfah! Once I returned home, it was obvious that was not true.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Cantor does not show interest in random strangers, and yet here he is, offering free magicking and meeting you for breakfast? Madness on his part? Perhaps. But you, Cecilia, you went along with it, despite clearly knowing nothing about him. You left with him. You came back, and your class was hidden from Orn. You were carrying no artifacts which would do that. Which means a potion. Who else would make such a potion on short notice but our Class Scholar? And why? No doubt it had something to do with your unusual strength for someone who is only Level Three, and why you are so low in level despite your age.”

She pointed a triumphant finger at Cecilia. “Because you are no Barbarian, Cecilia. You have an elite Class of some sort.” As they both gaped at her, she snorted. “It is the only thing which would enrapture Cantor so.”

“I, uh, oh. I wouldn’t say enraptured --” Cantor was at least two shades darker than usual.

“Oh, please. You look at her as if she is tenderloin and it is Harvest Feast.”

Cecilia began to laugh. Both of them started, then stared. “No, no, I mean--she’s right,” she told Cantor, still giggling helplessly. “You’re a terrible liar. And you’re right about the other,” she added, to Shin. “I’ve got an elite Class, and that’s why he’s interested. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want--I thought people might react badly.”

“I-I advised her so,” Cantor admitted, hastily. “It might seem like an excess of caution, but I truly believe it is vital that discretion be paramount in this circumstance, Shin.”

Shin laughed outright at his anxious reaction. “Relax, mage.” She turned to Cecilia. “You saved my life. Your Class does not matter to me. Cantor may be obsessive--”

“I am not!”

She continued without acknowledging him, “--but he would not shelter your Class if it were something evil, this I believe. Thus, it is of no concern.” She sniffed. “I just wished you both to stop being deceptive, badly. Now we all know, and there won’t be any more of that. Yes?”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“What if I can be deceptive well?” Cantor asked.

Shin drawled, with amusement, “It would be a significant change.” As he sputtered, she turned her attention to Cecilia and the bag. “Ah, good. That will save us time. Plus, you will have room for these.” She pulled a couple of outfits from her own pack, and put them on the table.

“Shin, I can’t--”

“You can pay me back by taking a few jobs with me,” Shin replied, firmly. “Besides, even if we go to Mare today, it will take a few days for her to make clothing for you. These will be too big, but they will serve.”

“Mare?”

The two filled her in: Mare was the closest thing the town had to a professional seamstress or tailor - her clientele were almost exclusively the dozen or so adventurers that lived in Ikshan, along with occasional work from traders or other travelers. Most people apparently had someone in their family who could sew - there were a few families who had some sheep (the word wasn’t exactly sheep, but it’s the closest translation she could get) and wove sturdy cloth for trading within the town. Hunters like Shin brought back leather - or grel skin - for even more durable cloth, and there was nothing like a ‘clothing store’ here. Instead, Mare took your measurements and your koil (which was the name for the currency of metal sticks) and in a week, you had tailored clothing. She even did shoes, which would be a relief, as Cecilia was currently barefoot. Her stone skin let her walk with ease over most rough terrain, but it still felt weird.

Cecilia tucked away the borrowed outfits, promising to pay Shin back, and return the clothing itself once she had her own.

Shin nodded easily, then said, “Excellent. Then after we see Mare, we can take a job! I have had my eye on one for a while, but cannot do it alone.”

Cantor’s eyes widened. “You can’t be serious, Shin. The mossbeast?” At her nod, he groaned. “There’s a reason none of us signed up for that! You’re taking advantage of her!”

“It is good money. Very good. And good experience.”

“Dying is not an experience she needs!”

Shin clucked her tongue. “No one will die. I’ve fought mossbeasts before. Cecilia is a melee combatant, and I am ranged. I will strike with rootbane poison on my arrows, and she can kite the beast until the poison takes effect. When we move in for the kill, it will be near helpless.” A glance in Cecilia’s direction. “Mossbeasts are powerful, but slow. You’re fast.”

“But--” Cantor started.

“Hush,” Shin said. Her eyes gleamed. “If you are so worried, then come with us. It will be even less trouble with three of us, and the payment is still good.”

Now, Cecilia broke in, with false innocence. “You did say you needed to replenish alchemical ingredients. Surely something you need might be found on the way?”

Cantor huffed, “A mossbeast is a level five threat, at a minimum, and this one is exceptionally large. Even Orn expects to wait until Odi or Ren get back.”

“And they are escorting a caravan. It will be weeks before they return, and that is if they do not stop and take other jobs on the way back,” Shin said. “You and I are both level six, yes? At least?” A nod to Cecilia once Cantor reluctantly agreed that they were. “We will be enough protection. And you will likely level.”

Leveling felt good. And if she wanted to accomplish anything, Cecilia would need more skill points. “I’m in,” she said. “Let’s do it.” Then, after Shin’s whoop of triumph, she added, “What’s a mossbeast?”

Cantor wilted forward until his forehead hit the table.

*

Several hours later, Cecilia was wondering if perhaps she had been a bit hasty with her agreement. The forest was no more inviting than it had been last time; she was a city girl at heart. The primordial feel of the place got under her skin. Trees should not be large enough to live in. And these had thick coats of multicolored moss - bright greens, certainly, but also strange swirls of yellow and orange, and even a few bright splotches of luminescent purple. When Cecilia had reached out for the first one of these she saw, not quite sure it was real, Cantor had hastily warned her away. The phrase ‘tissue decomposition’ was used, so Cecilia heeded the warning, and was careful not to brush up against any of the trunks, just in case.

Shin had taken the lead; while Cecilia could walk on the sticks and thorns of the forest floor without harm, she wasn’t exactly stealthy. And Cantor--she winced as he started cursing behind her. “Robe caught in thorns again?”

“It is as if the damn things are reaching for me,” he snapped. Then added, “They’re not. I checked for sentience and enchantments.”

Cecilia blinked. Then again, they were tracking something called a mossbeast, which the other two had informed her lived up to the name - it was a heap of thinking, moving moss, always searching for sources of nutrients. When it found them, it apparently engulfed them, then drained them with thousands of tiny roots.

This was a lovely world, really.

Another curse behind her as the mage kicked uselessly at a sapling. “Aren’t you supposed to be an adventurer? You could just wear pants.”

He glared at her. “I am an adventurer. And the robe is enchanted; it is not easily replaced by a simple pair of pants. But I usually serve in a more...support capacity. I don’t actually like...woods. I prefer civilization.”

“Me, too.” Cecilia grinned. “Before all this, I didn’t even like going to the park. My idea of fun was settling in for a Fortnite marathon or hitting the bars.”

“You ran for two weeks for fun?”

“What? No--it’s, uh, never mind. It was a game I played, that’s all. My point was that I didn’t do nature.”

A sharp hiss from up ahead silenced them both. Shin stood on a fallen log, stringing her new bow with a single, easy motion. Cecilia couldn’t help but notice that the woman’s powerful arms made it look easy. Shin looked back. “Now is the time for quiet. It is near.”

Instantly, Cantor’s face lost its peevish disgruntlement. He gestured, drawing his fingers against the air and leaving streaks of blue and teal, like smears of paint, hanging in their wake. The colors diffused, became a shimmering mist that settled over Cecilia. It tasted a little like ozone.

[Analysis Results: Rank 1 Enchantment - Benevolent. Effect: Damage Resistance.]

Cecilia almost screamed at the voice that sounded in her head. She did jump, and Cantor hastily assured her, “It’s only a shield spell - it’s not very strong, and I should have asked first, but it won’t cause you any harm.”

She nodded and tried to calm her heart. She hadn’t even meant to use the skill. At least it had a use; she’d tried to activate it a couple of times while in town, and had received nothing but the most basic of trivia. [Chair: Palewood and Iron. Artisan Rank 1] and the like. It worked better on magic. Good to know. “Thanks,” she told Cantor.

His response was perfunctory; he was already starting to cast again. Rather than watch, she made her way as quietly as she could over the damp, mossy ground towards Shin. “Where is it?” she whispered.

Shin shook her head, slowly. “I do not know.” Her nostrils flared as she scanned the area. To Cecilia, it looked like every other part of the loamy woods. “I sense that it is here, close.” She breathed the words, they drifted barely audible to Cecilia’s ears. “But I cannot see it.”

“What’s it look like?”

“It may take many forms. The moss is very flexible.”

“Not helpful,” Cecilia muttered. She peered at the dense vegetation, but there was a lot of moss, and she had no way to distinguish one type from the others. Analysis was only helpful in that it confirmed that it was moss - the specific names it used meant nothing to her. The trees had verdant cloaks of moss. The boulders and fallen logs were blanketed in the stuff. There was even moss under her feet, wriggling its way between...her...toes.

She swallowed, and gave her toes an experimental wiggle. The moss wiggled back, pushing itself upwards and around her feet a tiny bit at a time. She looked down.

[Fauna: Mossbeast. Level: 8]

Urgently, she tugged at Shin. “I think I found it.”

Shin started. “What? You did? Where?”

Slowly, Cecilia pointed straight down. Shin followed her gaze and froze. A little apart from them, Cantor noticed the tension and called out, “Is everything all right?” He had a small swarm of glowing orbs, like fireflies, orbiting around him.

“Nope,” Cecilia said with false good cheer, as the moss made its first experimental forays against the tops of her feet. It didn’t seem to know what to do with her stone skin. “I’m standing on a mossbeast, and I’m not enjoying it.”

“Shit.” A word which translated just fine, she noted with satisfaction. “Shin, can you strike it with poison?”

“Mm, yes,” Shin said. “But it will react. Cecilia, you must be prepared to move the moment the arrow hits. I am not sure why it has not attacked you yet.”

“Foot fetish, maybe,” she muttered. At the blank look from the hunter, she sighed. “Nevermind. I can move. Which way?”

The other two exchanged a look, then both pointed in the same direction. Cecilia saw the idea, instantly - if she was able to get there without getting eaten, she’d form one point of a triangle. And there was a heap of fallen, cracked boulders that would let her kite the beast while the other two hit it from afar. If it turned towards any of them, the other two could attack freely, and hopefully distract it.

With a nod, she indicated her understanding, and took a deep, careful breath. Shin notched an arrow that was blackened with poison; the entire quiver had been treated with what she’d called rootbane. She drew the bow in an effortless motion, and pointed it downwards, towards Cecilia’s feet.

“On three,” she said. Cecilia counted down, while at the corner of her vision, Cantor shifted position and raised empty hands.

One.

Two.

Three.

Cecilia threw herself forward, the hum of the bowstring’s release instantly drowned by the crackling of straining vegetation under her feet. The moss tightened, but found no purchase on her skin, and she rolled forward as the ground heaved.

The mossbeast pulled itself upwards. It was a massive thing, easily the size of a minivan, composed entirely of roots and mud and bones . Human and animal both, they protruded and ground together as the beast heaved itself upwards, remnants of past meals given a mockery of life by the matrix of roots they were suspended in. Some sort of deer or horse skull made a parody of laughter as its disconnected jaw was slammed back and forth by the beast’s movements.

It had no head of its own, no eyes or ears to signal its attention, but somehow, Cecilia could feel its attention settle on her. Should have taken Flashstep.

The beast lurched forward, more like a wave than a creature, a wave of mulch and spite. The front of it split from top to bottom to engulf Cecilia. “Counterstrike!” She met the closing walls with her fists. “Triple Strike!” Her fists blurred, knocking head-sized pieces of moss and loam from the monstrosity.

It recoiled in what seemed to be more surprise than pain. Cecilia scrambled backwards and up on the nearest boulder. As it lurched forward again, Shin called out, “Heartseeker!” and fired another of the poison arrows. It buried itself to the fletching - Cecilia didn’t know if the mossbeast actually had a heart, but if it did, that skill came close to living up to its name. It started to bulge in Shin’s direction.

Then shuddered as half a dozen of Cantor’s fireflies fell upon it like burning rain. Moss caught fire as the mage concentrated - he didn’t call out whatever skill or spell he was using, she noticed, but his hands flickered in complex motions as he conjured more of the missiles and hurled them at the beast.

It wobbled and sparked under the barrage, and Cecilia didn’t give it time to try and pick another target. She launched herself forward, shouting out her skill once more. Bone and branch cracked under her knuckles, and a limb, dripping with yellow-green moss, emerged from the mass to slam her to the ground. “Counter--”

Too late, or the skill wasn’t enough - Cecilia took the blow and screamed as it knocked her to the forest floor. Her golem body, the spell that Cantor had cast on her; without these, she would have been dead, again, for sure. Even with them, she felt her shoulder crack and shatter, sending a wave of agony through her.

Cecilia tried to roll out of the way as the mossbeast yanked its limb off of her, no doubt for another strike. Distantly, through the roaring of whatever passed for blood in her ears, she could hear Shin and Cantor yelling. At her? At each other? She couldn’t tell. Their voices were as distant and indistinct as an argument from an apartment across the street. She scrabbled on her knees and her good arm, dragging herself inch by inch away from the beast.

Too slowly. The mossbeast rolled over her, enveloped her, shutting out light and air, pinning her between dirt and hungry moss. It was rotting; the rootbane poison was doing its job even as it tried to latch onto her skin and drain her dry. But as it crumbled, it was suffocating her, the weight too much for her chest to bear. The damp rotted smell of loam choked her. Cecilia heard cracking and groaning from her entire body, even her skull. She couldn’t raise her arms to try and push away.

A dull crackboom, muffled by the bulk. The mossbeast spasmed; Cecilia rose with it, fighting for enough space to breathe. To live. Another crack and the sound of cascading dirt. Hands reached down, grabbed at her hair, passed through to her skull and slid off the smooth stone. “Cecilia!”

She heaved, screamed as she lifted her broken shoulder and arm to grab the hands that dug through the dirt for her. The hands grabbed, yanked, and it was agony and relief to be pulled from the dark into the sunlight once more.

Cantor grunted with effort, then tumbled backwards as she came free, crashing into him. Cecilia scrabbled, trying to get away ; he was shouting something, his arms around her.

Crackboom. It was loud enough to break her out of the panic. She twisted around to see Shin, firing another arrow. When it hit the mossbeast, it exploded, tearing another chunk out of the creature.

Until there was no creature at all, just a hill of moss, oozing sap and tiny avalanches of disturbed earth.

When they were absolutely sure that it was dead, Shin unstrung her bow; she had not escaped unscathed - her bandaged arm was bright red with blood once more, and there was something like an acid burn or rash on her face where she’d taken a blow from one of the more toxic mosses covering the beast’s limbs. She looked at the mound, then back at her two companions. Cecilia was covered in filth and sap, her shoulder a hot coal of pain. Cantor lay sprawled on the ground, his entire reserve of azoth burned away.

“I told you we would triumph,” Shin said. She grinned, even though it must have hurt.

Cantor groaned, and fell over onto the moss to stare sightlessly at the canopy.