Even as they marched, Mason began practicing the stances and footwork that Shayjol had shown him. The Focus Points he had gained from the Trials had improved his strength and agility significantly, but they did nothing to teach him how to use those improvements.

Considering the original estimate of Analyze was that it would take years to cultivate those focus points into real stats, and he had managed to integrate them in a few days, it wasn’t surprising at all that he wasn’t truly getting the most out of them.

Fighting the Biord guards had been so much different than fighting against Torysen. The Biord guards fought like Mason did- go for the quick attack, try to guard against anything that came at you. It was a simple, if brutal system. Tory fought like it was an artform. She seemed to know where to be instinctively, and each one of her movements contained more power and grace than a dozen of Mason’s strung together.

After a long day of pondering this, Mason finally walked up alongside her and decided to ask about it.

Torysen eyed him suspiciously at first, still obviously reticent to actually assist him, even though she knew it was what her brother would want. “I took swordfighting classes as a hobby before the Trials,” she explained to a surprised Mason. “It wasn’t as if we had hoards of goblins to cut through, but there were a few teachers that kept the old traditions alive, from hundreds of years ago. I wasn’t very good back on Marra,” she admitted.

The way she talked about it reminded him of Tae Kwon Do from Earth, and he wished now that he had taken that before the Trials. “Then how did you get to be so powerful? The way you moved this morning was incredible.”

Tory stopped walking and blushed at the unexpected compliment. “The Trials make everything easier to learn, and reward your efforts. The forms I learned on Marra, which I could barely even get through to pass my tests, eventually became skills here.”

Mason considered this, “That lunge you kept using on me, is that a skill?”

She looked like she considered lying, then admitted, “Bounding strike. I developed it actually while fighting with Mowry.” She grew quieter as she spoke, as if trying not to overwhelm the memory, “He really picked the Trials up quickly. And he had this almost impenetrable defense. As soon as you’d step close, he’d knock you away. So I found a way to get close without that final step.”

Mason smiled a little, picturing this strong woman getting beaten by Mowry the way Mason had suffered this morning.

Tory smiled too, “He laughed and laughed when I finally hit him with it. Just thought it was the funniest thing.”

‘Rather than figuring out how to break through my defense, you just blow right past it! Incredible!’ Mason heard in Mowry’s voice. The awe and excitement was a strange addition, and Mason felt conflicted at the memory that was not his.

“Mowry remembers, and he’s still impressed,” Mason whispered.

Tory looked directly at Mason, her expression unreadable. Then she walked away.

He supposed that was a reasonable reaction. She had spent all that time looking for her brother, and now he was gone in the normal sense… but somehow still present through Mason. The mixture of gratitude and hatred was unnatural.

Though he wanted to work more on the rune, Mason walked over to Shayjol, jogging to make up for how far behind he and Tory fell during their talk. Shay was currently talking with Clearsay, the cook, but they broke off their conversation as Shay turned to Mason, an amused look on his dark face.

“I greatly enjoyed watching you lose this morning. My mother will be distressed when she has to heal your wounds, but I personally think it is worth the entertainment of seeing you earn them,” Shay chuckled.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Shay. You know that, right?” Mason asked as Shay shrugged. “I’ve seen you fight, you’re not nearly on Torysen’s level either. Do you have any special skills for combat?”

Shay’s grin became a scowl for a moment, before he shrugged again and put back on a much faker smile, “I have more than a child like yourself. I at least know how to use real spells.”

“Shay, I’m not trying to insult you. I just don’t know a damned thing about how any of this works and I’m asking you, a friend,” Shay’s eyebrows raised at the word, “to help me understand.”

Shaking his head, Shay begrudgingly admitted, “I know a few skills, but they mostly serve to strengthen my axe. When I hit, I hit hard. But Tory’s skills are many and varied. She can move quickly, strike accurately, and block or dodge most skilled attacks. If my skills were more plentiful, I would be a rover now too, but instead I was told to stay with my parents until I had improved.”

“That sucks, Shay. Guess you’ll just have to let Torysen beat you senseless too,” Mason teased.

Their opportunity to train showed up later that day. The Roving Band trails were not well-defined, but to even a lightly seasoned woodsman, they were followable. So with a good understanding of the land, they had been making great time heading toward the Darkest Night city even despite the frequent, cautious patrolling Torysen demanded of her band.

All of those elements compounded to explain the confusion the band felt when they stumbled upon a cave set into a tall hill that nobody had ever seen before. This was doubly perplexing because a bit of investigation proved that the hill had appeared directly in the middle of the trail, and that the trail picked itself back up on the other side.

The whole band, with additions, gathered in front of the mouth of the cave for Torysen to address the group.

“I recognize that returning to the Darkest Night and informing them about the opportunity with the Biord is a time-sensitive matter,” Tory started, pacing in front of the group, keeping an eye out for signals from the two archers she had been watching their peripherals. “However, this hill is clearly new, and also very poignantly in the way of our trail. I’m not so worried about routing around it, as we’ll only likely lose a few minutes, but we all know how the Trials work.”

Mason, however, did not. He timidly raised his hand. Tory cocked an eyebrow at him, and then realizing what his problem was, she adjusted, “Nothing appears in the Trials that isn’t meant to either kill you, or make life very difficult.” Suddenly, Mason supposed he did understand how the Trials worked. She continued, “If this thing is here, that cave probably leads to trouble. We can’t have half our population passing by here if we can’t guarantee that this cave isn’t infested with something bloodthirsty and dangerous.

“Leornal, Shayjol, Sentir, and Demon, you’ll be coming with me for a cursory expedition. If we run into trouble, we’ll pull out and send the entire band in. Otherwise, we clear the place out.”

There was a murmur of discussion, but most everyone seemed to agree with the plan. Shaywise, however, walked up to Torysen as the group began to disperse. “Tory, I know you’re trying to train the boys, but shouldn’t you send in a scouting party before you send them in?” She asked, trying her best to not sound like a mother.

Tory smiled at her, “The Trials did not ask us if we were prepared before bringing us to this plane and sending the Corrosi and droves of goblins our way. Shayjol is strong, if inexperienced. Let me give him that experience.”

Shaywise’s face scrunched up, “He’s young, Tory. I already thought I lost him to a dungeon once this week.”

“And yet he lives, and is stronger for it. He helped tremendously against Geralt, and I know he will be useful today as well. And if there is trouble, I will get him out, and your healing spells will do wonders to set him right.”

Treyjol put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, “She’s right, Shaywise. There are only a handful of our people who could protect him better, so if we have any hope of our son growing stronger, this is a great opportunity.”

Shaywise looked as if she were fit to burst, and she turned to her husband and pounded a fist into his shoulder, “I didn’t think I would be raising a son thinking of how strong he might be, Trey! I wanted him to get an education and a job and a wife! This isn’t fair.”

Mason felt guilty for watching this, but it was comforting in a way to be reminded of his own family, and the normal life that rested buried in a set of his memories. Why was it so easy to accept the rules of this fantastical world?

Somewhere in his mind, he knew, were calculus formulas and poems he had memorized for classes. Though he didn’t regret the benefits of an intelligent mind, he wondered how differently he would have lived if he had known that his future would have him trying to comfort the souls he had accidentally claimed while preparing to explore a dangerous cave that appeared from nowhere.

He took a deep breath and pictured the rune. It was calming to try to keep his Focus on it without delving so deeply that he got lost in its shifting shape. Why wasn’t his degree in runes and spellcraft instead of Business and Leadership?

“Soul steal, Arun. You gave him a staff with soul steal,” Helzibeh shouted as she paced before her altar.

“Yes, well, if the Maledite had been using it properly perhaps I would have been more careful to avoid sacrificing him to the Trials. But look at what potential the human has demonstrated! To master mana usage in such a short…”

“Master?” She scoffed, “He’s no better than a primitive beast waving around a stick that just happens to be on fire. Either of those Maledites had the potential to become real contenders. You should see the list of challenges that Arlon had completed. He had enough Focus Points to ascend another plane given enough time.”

“It’s not as if there aren’t other Maledite contenders. They’ve been in the Trials for a century now, maybe two. A Maledite moving to another plane is hardly enough to grant them special protections. Where’s the growth? The change? Isn’t that what we’re all seeking?”

“We’re seeking power, Arun. Someone stronger than ourselves. And you gave one of the most dangerous artifacts to one of the weakest creatures imaginable. That Maledite he consumed, the big ugly one…”

“Geralt, Helzibeh.”

“Geralt, right. Or was it? There are so many names to keep track of in a multiverse, even with the Trials recording everything it’s just more than anyone should be expected to care about.”

Arun stared at her, hoping she’d get on with her rantings or simply leave.

“That Geralt, anyhow, was a force to be reckoned with. He hardly showed his mettle in that fight. And now that small, pink boy has his soul. It’s just not right. We’re supposed to support the strong, that’s why the Trials work so well.”

“Another hundred years of Maledite rising a plane or two and then dying was not going to breed any unusual strength. But this human is different. If he can harness Mana Arts and Soul Arts, think of what else he might be able to do!”

“I think he’ll suffer an exceptional death mauled by something small and ugly.”