TravelingDreamer
patreon
B5—Chapter 2: Rock Part II
🕑 Added 2024-12-08 16:25:51 +0000 UTCThe path gradually leveled out as we continued upward, and the trees thinned more and more. The bare branches gave way to patches of open ground with clumps of grass. It wasn’t long before we spotted movement ahead. The voices we’d heard earlier grew clearer, though still guttural and rough, more like shouts than coherent speech. A group of three youngsters were trying to chop down a spindly tree with stone axes, under the supervision of an older man.
We stopped and listened. Some words were incoherent, but not all. Gradually, I picked up the language on a rudimentary level. It was very basic—no sentence structure, inflections, syntax, or any other signs of grammar. Simply a collection of words—nouns or verbs—strung together to convey an idea. “Take, stone, hit, strong, broken, strong, strong, broken.”
Ready to continue, I stepped forward, only to be stopped by Al’s firm hand on my arm. “I need more time,” he said in my mind.
“I know you think speaking a language incorrectly is undignified,” I sent to him, keeping my tone even, “but with their language level, I don’t think it applies.”
“It does not matter,” Al said in a resolute tone and lifted his nose. “Dignity must be maintained in all circumstances.”
I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped me. Beside me, Mahya glanced my way, and we exchanged a knowing look. She rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a faint smirk. Sometimes, I forgot Al was “normal” with us and his male friends—casual and friendly. But moments like this reminded me of his princely tendencies, which he never quite let go of when dealing with anyone outside our circle.
“Take your time,” I said finally, gesturing for him to continue—no point in arguing when he was like this.
It took him another half an hour, but finally—finally—he decided he knew enough of the language. With a dramatic flourish of his hand, he gestured for me to continue forward. The extra time wasn’t a complete waste, though. I’d also picked up a much better understanding of the language. Maybe he was onto something after all.
While we stood listening, the people talking ahead noticed us. We were far, but not far enough to be unnoticed. For a brief moment, they grew tense, their movements hesitant. But their wariness faded when they saw we were just standing there, not making any threatening moves. They returned to their task, the nervous energy melting away as they resumed work. The youngsters even managed to topple the tree and dragged it away by its branches.
We followed the group with the tree and, after about five minutes, came to a large clearing. The clearing was full of crude tents made from stretched animal skins lashed over wooden frames. Some were round, others leaned at odd angles, and a few were built by placing a log between two trees, draping leather or furs over it, and securing it to the ground with wooden spikes.
About fifty people milled around the camp—or was it a village?—all dressed like the group we’d encountered earlier. Furs tied together with leather strips hung loosely on their bodies, and their hair matted into thick dreadlocks with bones and stones.
In the center of the settlement, a large spit had been hoisted on two forking tree branches. A barely recognizable animal hung from it. An old woman stood nearby, using a jagged stone to cut off chunks of meat, which she handed to people who approached her.
They ate the meat raw, tearing into it with their teeth, and I shuddered in disgust. The sight was unsettling enough, but as I glanced around, something else struck me. There was no smoke, fire pit, or signs of cooking or warmth anywhere.
“They don’t have fire,” Mahya murmured, her eyes sweeping across the settlement, her expression a mix of realization and disbelief.
I frowned, taking another look. It was hard to believe, but she was right. There wasn’t a single scorch mark anywhere. The people carried chunks of meat in their hands, biting into it raw, their faces smeared with blood. Even the children, who darted between the tents, laughing and chasing each other, gnawed on raw strips like it was nothing.
“They don’t know about it,” Al added, his tone mirroring her disbelief.
These people weren’t just prehistoric—they lived in a world without one of humanity’s most basic tools.
We stood there for a moment, taking the place in. One local spotted us. A man near the edge of the settlement froze, his eyes going wide as he shouted in alarm. Heads turned, and within seconds, the entire village seemed to erupt.
Men and women grabbed crude weapons—clubs, spears, and stones—and formed a loose line in front of us. The children scrambled to hide behind the tents, peeking out with wide, curious eyes. The villagers shouted at us, their words rough but laced with obvious suspicion and fear.
“No danger,” Mahya said, holding up her hands to show we weren’t armed. Rue pressed closer to my side, his ears flat against his head.
I stepped forward slowly, raising my hands as well. “Not danger you,” I said, keeping my voice calm.
The shouting quieted slightly, though the tension in the air still hung thick. One man, taller and broader than the rest, with the bushiest beard in the settlement, stepped forward with his spear gripped tightly in both hands.
“What want?” he barked, his tone sharp and demanding.
“No danger,” Mahya repeated, her voice calm and even. “Walk forest…” She pointed at her eye. “People.”
Yeah, I didn’t know the word for “see” either. Maybe they didn’t have it?
The man gestured for us to follow, leading us into the heart of the settlement. The villagers watched us closely, their eyes filled with curiosity and wariness. As we passed the tents, I noticed how crude they were up close—barely enough to keep out the cold, let alone offer proper shelter. The smell of raw meat hung in the air, sharp and metallic, mixed with the earthy scent of animal hides.
“They don’t know about fire,” I said softly, still in shock.
Mahya glanced at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Then we teach them.”
“Didn’t we decide not to get involved in local affairs?” Al asked. “And do we have the tools for that?”
“Not yet,” Mahya said. “We’ll have to find stones for flint.”
I hesitated, the ethical implications swirling in my mind. “Should we? It’s not just fire. This will change everything for them.”
Mahya crossed her arms. “And what if one of those kids dies from eating bad meat because we didn’t show them? What then?”
“My question is whether we have the right to shape their progression, not if fire is good or bad,” I said.
She looked at me and waited. I thought about it for a few minutes, and concluded that the discovery of fire was a natural step for every society. We wouldn’t be changing it, just giving it a small boost.
The villagers watched as we stopped and walked toward the edge of the settlement. The tall man barked a question, and I did my best to explain that we were looking for stones. He seemed confused but didn’t stop us, following at a distance as we searched the area.
It took some time, but eventually, we found what we needed—sharp stones that struck sparks when hit together. Mahya gathered some dry grass and twigs, carefully assembling a small pile in the center of the settlement.
The villagers gathered around us, their curiosity plain on their faces. As Mahya struck the stones together, the children edged closer, their eyes wide with wonder. The first spark drew gasps, and when the dry grass caught and flames flickered, the reaction was instant.
The villagers shouted and stumbled back in fear. Some dropped to their knees, bowing their heads, while others pointed and whispered frantically. The tall man stood frozen, his eyes locked on the fire with a dazed expression.
“It’s just fire,” I murmured, watching their reactions.
“For them, it’s a miracle,” Al said.
Mahya fed more twigs into the fire, and the flames grew brighter. Slowly, the villagers inched closer, their fear giving way to fascination. The tall man approached first, kneeling beside the fire and reaching out hesitantly. He stopped just short of the flames, feeling the heat on his hand.
I picked up a piece of meat, skewered it on a stick and held it over the fire, letting it sizzle and cook. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, and the villagers watched silently as I pulled it back and took a bite. Their eyes widened as I chewed and swallowed, then handed the cooked meat to the tall man.
He took it hesitantly, sniffed it, and bit into it. His expression shifted instantly—surprise, then delight. He barked something to the others, and they gathered more twigs and meat, mimicking what we had shown them.
Some youths struck the stones near us and lit another fire. When it caught one of them jumped back on fell on his back, the rest laughed it him. One tried to touch the fire and howled in pain.
“I was afraid of that,” I said.
Mahya shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
I healed the burned hand and clapped my hands to get their attention. Pointing at the youth I healed and then on the fire, I said, “No touch. Danger. Hurt.”
Some nodded, but some stumbled back in fear, looking at the fire with suspicion. I guessed that also came with the territory.
Rue, in the mean time made friends with the kids, running with them around the village.
We stayed for a few hours, watching the changes. Some were enthusiastic about the heat and the new taste of cooked meat. They gestured wildly with huge grins and kept clapping us on the back. Some were scared and suspicious of the fire, and as an extension of us. Two even dove out of Mahya’s way with a horrified expression. I had to heal another three burns, and they started calling me a god, which made me uncomfortable.
“Let’s leave,” I said.
“What? You don’t want to be acknowledged as a deity?” Mahya asked me with an impish grin.
“Definitely not.”
As we walked back toward the Gate, I glanced over my shoulder at the settlement, now alive with light and warmth. There was still fear, but I knew they would get over it. I wanted to brush invisible dust off my shoulders but refrained. Mahya, with her head-slapping ways, was walking too close to me.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
Thanks
JJB4345_80_815
Thank you for the chappy! Friendly possible edits: Quote: Rue, in the meant time made friends with the kids, running with them around the village. meant ==> mean Quote: I had to heal another three burns, and they started calling my a god, which made me uncomfortable. calling my a god ==> calling me a god
TravelingDreamer
The shanty offered a class. Fire affinity is not a class.
Obran
Some day in the distant future, John will get an enhancement to his fire affinity for teaching thousands of people how to make fire just like he got a pump to his bard class for teaching sailors a couple sea shanties.
TravelingDreamer
Yep
Angela Roberts
Obran called it!
![Blue [K]nights from patreon](https://fapscommunity.com/kistorage/107130.jpg)
