Chapter 676 (2/2)

The sound of running drew Jera’s attention, and he looked up as a group of three men jogged up the road toward his house. One of them he recognized, Albby.

As the three approached the house, Jera wiped the ash off onto his pants and returned to his porch. After a brief discussion, two of the men waved at Jera and received a nod in return. Then they continued past his house and down the road, heading west. Albby walked up to the porch.

“Those boys were from Magedevlin way,” Albby grunted. “Every field tilled and ready, just like yours. A few people are complaining the lines aren’t always completely even, but damn. There wasn’t a Year I remember where I’d seen such pretty fields for such a long distance.”

Albby sat next to Jera, and they both considered the strangeness of it. Almost as one, they both shrugged; they weren’t in the position to wiggle the head of an inherited spear.

“They are running West, to see how far it extends.”

Jera nodded simply. Then he frowned. “Do we know anything about the ash?”

“Some of the best damn fertilizer I’ve ever seen,” Albby said fervently. “If I didn’t know better, someone shipped compost from a forest fire in the Heart School. High nutrient density and Mana is practically rolling off the stuff. I bet harvest time is naught but two weeks away, and we haven’t even planted yet. Whoever made this has a gift. Probably a Skill.”

As one, the two men smiled at each other. Jera rubbed his back as he stood and then shook Albby’s hand. “Alright, time to get to work.”

*****

The girl returned to the Black Feather headquarters, but Orangey insisted on accompanying the rest of them as they returned to Hastam. Randidly didn’t mind, but Skarch enjoyed it the most. The entire journey was her teasing Orangey over his name. What was perhaps more amusing was that Orangey fell for it every time, spitting and stomping his foot in anger at her more cutting jokes.

Randidly supposed this was somewhat akin to watching a bull and matador fight. No matter how much he knew he shouldn’t, Orangey just got enraged and charged at her. And unlike the bull being able to trounce the matador, Randidly had no doubts which of the two would be more powerful.

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked.

Randidly tilted his head at her, and she continued. “You might have ignored the announcement at the preliminary meeting, but we have all earned time in the Hall of Stances by qualifying. However, it was being investigated when we arrived, due to the Spearsource being stolen. But I have spoken with my contacts in Hastam, and it is being prepared for us.”

“What is the Hall of Stances?” Randidly asked.

Azriel seemed to consider this question. “...Hastam was one of the most powerful Villages in Tellus. It possessed a Village Spirit with unparalleled power and vision. Over the course of hundreds of years, Hastam purchased a strange treasure that enabled it to record ten seconds of movements from an individual in stones.

“Upon reaching the Pontiff level, an individual possesses the qualifications to be selected to be within the Hall of Stances. But generally, it also requires proof of great power and influence. Generally, this is interpreted as great merit, but there are also many great villains and Tellus’ history that have been enshrined there. Although they were beings of great evil, their spear use was exquisite.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened. “One of my goals is to have my Master acknowledged there. If that is impossible, I will make it there, and obtain a spot in the inner circle, where the ten most powerful spear moves in history are enshrined.”

“A tall order,” Randidly said lightly, considering this information. He suspected that whatever this was conveyed a bit more than a video recording would have, otherwise Azriel wouldn’t have the note of reverence in her voice as she talked about it. Likely, it would let you experience something similar to that Skill. Sampling so many powerful images… it was no wonder why they were cherished.

“Rich, coming from the man who tried to kill a Propagator,” Azriel said with a shake of the head. “After all, there was only one person who ever had a confirmed kill on a Propagator.”

Randidly didn’t say anything but wondered about the veracity of that. If the Propagator was the expression of the deep fear of Tellus’ images, then the Spearman would have fought against one. Before the Spearsource was stolen, the Propagators were clearly on the rope. Had the Spearman failed to kill one…?

Then Randidly’s eyes sharpened. The Hall of Stances recorded old styles for future generations. The Propagators picked up their dead and refashioned them into more soldiers. Was that a coincidence?

With Orangey and Skarch bickering behind them, the group entered into the gates of Hastam.