TravelingDreamer
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B6—Chapter 57: Loot Distribution
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 16:20:55 +0000 UTCI sat on the back deck and read a book about earth magic. Yes, unfortunately, a wizard wrote it, which meant it was stuffed to the brim with metaphors, similes, analogies, symbolism, hyperbole, allusion, imagery, and some other confusing stuff, creating a chaotic salad of purple prose that I had to slog through. Every paragraph had a grain of information wrapped in poetic nonsense. Still, to the author's credit, there was practical data buried in there. Maybe it was hidden under layers of unnecessary words and dramatic flair, but it was there if you dug deep enough. He deserves a reluctant pat on the back for that. Also, for the fact that, despite his word vomit, the text was relatively clear. Relatively being the operative word, and only when compared to other wizards, not to normal people.
That said, I’m pretty sure he was also a liar. Or, at the very least, a guy with a very loose relationship with humility and the truth. He shared a lot of solid information about earth magic, but presented every technique and discovery as if he alone had cracked the secrets of the soil while the rest of the magical world flailed about in ignorance. The self-aggrandizing was thick enough to trip over, and every few pages came with a fresh jab at some rival or entire schools of magic. He wasn’t a Traveler; just a loudmouth with a lot of opinions and a limited perspective. So instead of diminishing the wizards of the universe, he stuck to dragging down the ones in his own little world.
… I, the great Pelphonion, the Stoneheart, the Deep Listener, the Whisperer of Subterranean Truths. Others may scrabble at the crust like ants with pickaxes, but I, I, have transcended the crude need for mining. Why claw and chip like a desperate mole when one can simply ask the earth to offer its secrets?
With the attunement of a true master, an earth wizard, provided he is not incompetent, which most regrettably are, may insert his awareness into the ground, much like slipping one’s thoughts between the folds of a dream. Down he drifts, layer by layer, like a feather descending through centuries of stone. First comes the sand, coarse and indecisive. Then the pebbles, whispering of rivers long dried. Shale murmurs of forgotten oceans. Granite growls. Clay hums. And deeper still, the bedrock sighs like a tired god. Each layer is a story, each mineral a word in the vast, rumbling language of the world.
Now let me be clear. This is no task for dabblers or robe-flapping conjurers who think tossing pebbles counts as earth magic. No. This descent requires patience, poise, and a mind like a diamond—unbreakable, brilliant, and forged under pressure. The layers must be examined delicately, reverently, as one would leaf through the pages of a sacred tome written in stone. And when, if, one discovers a vein of iron, a clutch of sapphire, or the delicate sparkle of manacite nestled like starlight in the dirt, then and only then may one begin the coaxing.
Yes, coaxing. For the earth is not a slave to be commanded, but an old and stubborn beast that must be courted, sung to, and seduced. With careful intent, the wizard must invite the chosen layer to rise, slowly and gracefully, like a dancer summoned from the depths. Too fast, and the earth may convulse, vomiting forth strata in a catastrophic geyser of molten tantrum. And should your prize lie near the lava beds, beware. One misstep and you may trigger the fury of fire itself. A volcanic eruption is not an accident. It is a rebuke.
But I, Pelphonion the Groundreader, do not make mistakes. My hands have summoned crystal spires from beneath bedrock. I have lifted golden seams from the dark like threads pulled from the robes of forgotten kings. I have performed these feats not once, not twice, but seventeen times, each under different astrological alignments and lunar phases. Unlike the rest, I understand that even the cosmos must be in accord with the stones.
Let others dig. Let them sweat and strain and chip their teeth on pickaxe handles, like that tragically misguided enthusiast Beinenos, who once declared that brute force was the purest form of earth communion. I will be here, communing with the very bones of the world, sipping tea steeped in minerals you could not pronounce, while the soil itself whispers its secrets into my waiting hands.
From the above, I figured out how to raise stuff I wanted from the earth. Pretty cool in my opinion. I also learned that earth wizards can raise stones from the bowels of the earth and, with the help of mana—or maybe “magic” would be the more accurate term—shape them into whatever form they need. And when I say “shape,” I don’t mean chiseling or molding stone by stone like plasticine and stacking them together. I mean raising entire buildings from underground, fully formed and ready to use. Of course, I haven’t tried any of it yet, but from his explanations, I got a good sense of how to approach it and what to practice.
I also learned that we can raise the bedrock layer to stabilize structures. That one wasn’t completely new. I hadn’t done it myself, but when I destroyed the buildings in Almatai and Almadris, I already had an idea of how to do the reverse.
And apparently, I can also fly using earth magic. At first, that sounded completely ridiculous. But once I understood how it worked, it actually made sense. Apparently, gravity is part of earth magic. To rise, you cancel gravity’s pull, then reapply it in a controlled way in the direction you want to go. When I figured that out, I spent some time thinking it through and decided it was worth trying. I was already pretty good at flying with wind magic, but constantly having to calculate trajectories to avoid smashing into walls or cliffs was getting old. I figured with gravity, maybe I could just fly and steer like a normal person without having to solve math problems midair.
The book also explained how to create a sandstorm or earthstorm to blind enemies, how to raise stone weapons like arrows or spears straight from the ground and hurl them using gravity, and even touched on something called “stone souls” hidden in ancient places. According to the author, these souls could be embedded in stones to create golems that might evolve over time, gain levels, and possibly even develop a limited intelligence. I was a little more hesitant about that part, but it was still fascinating to read.
And the best part? I was only a quarter of the way through the book and had already learned all of that. One day, I genuinely wanted to meet the author, pat him on the head, and say, “Good wizard. Now go forth and teach your brethren how to actually convey useful information without sounding like a prophecy wrapped in a riddle, and drowned in metaphor soup.”
In the middle of a three-page, long-winded explanation of unnecessary word vomit about how to sense the surroundings using earth magic by reading tremors through the soles of your feet, Mahya came to the back deck. She walked over with that look that meant she was either about to ask something important or start trouble. Maybe both.
“Need something?” I asked.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
“That’s dangerous.”
She shoved me, not hard enough to knock me over, but enough to make me tilt off balance on the bench. I caught myself with one foot, grinning.
She stuck her tongue out at me. “Idiot.”
“Fire-breathing harpy.”
She froze mid-step. Her head turned slowly, eyes narrowing to slits. For a second, I thought I had gone too far. Then she burst out laughing. It was so loud that it startled a bird off the railing behind her.
“So, what thought visited your mind, and how is it connected to me?” I asked, still holding the book open in one hand.
“I have 160 cores and—”
“You have?” I cut in, raising an eyebrow.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and looked away for a moment. “Okay, we have 160 cores. Initially, I wanted to collect a bunch of them for my ship, so I could have different systems running on core power whenever possible. But then I started thinking about your house and everything you’ve done with it, and now I think the smarter move would be to merge the cores and grow a single one. Maybe even get it to the size of yours or bigger. I think it would make more sense in the long run.”
I set the book down on my lap and gave it a moment’s thought. “Yeah, I see what you're getting at. But you do know those cores aren’t yours alone, right?”
Mahya crossed her arms and tilted her head. “Yeah. I already talked with Al, and I wanted to run it by you, too.” She stepped closer and leaned one hip against the railing. “Back in Vegas, we agreed to pool our resources because of the gambling money. I know I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it at the time when you brought it up, but I’ll admit now—it made sense.”
She paused, tapping a knuckle against the wood of the rail. “Since then, though, some of our stuff is still shared, and some isn’t. It’s a mess. I think we should sort it out properly.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, but what does that have to do with the cores?”
“Everything.” She uncrossed her arms and held up a finger. “I talked with Al already. Right now, you have your crazy, magical house. I’ve got the boat, the balloon, and the RV. Not counting the Jeeps, since we have three. So here's the plan. I give the RV to Al. You keep your house. I keep the boat and balloon. Fair?”
I gave a slow nod. “Yeah, that sounds fair.”
She smiled faintly and kept going. “The Jeeps are easy. Each of us gets one. I’ll even give Al the one with the monster wheels, since I’m ending up with two big things. And we each already have a jet ski with a core, so that’s handled too.”
She started pacing a little, warming to her topic. “Here’s the idea. We find a quiet spot far from any fighting and use the time to convert the bikes and the ATV from crystals to cores. Al wants ten extra cores on top of that to merge into a larger one. That’ll eventually be the base for his portable house. I suggested upgrading the RV instead, but he wants a full-size lab and greenhouse. So, fine. He gets his house. I told him we’ll help by giving him copies of all Lis’s blueprints.”
She stopped in front of me, arms back at her sides, voice firm now. “Now, you just have to decide how many cores you want. Then help me merge the rest into one big one. You know I can’t do it myself. My mana pool’s too small.”
I gave her a long look. “Are you done?”
She gave a little exaggerated bow. “Yes.”
“Then I’ll ask again. Why do we have to do it here? Why not in Zindor? Sure, it’s bleak and depressing, but at least we’re not in danger of getting a mana bomb dropped on our heads while we work.”
She smiled, smug now. “Think about it. Mana levels. Regeneration.”
“Oh,” I said, realization sinking in.
“Exactly. Oh. Better to get our mana back in a couple of hours after a merge than have to wait half a day or more.”
I let out a long sigh and nodded. She wasn’t wrong. It made sense. The place wasn’t bad either. The only downside was the war in the background and its mana bombs.
“Oh, by the way,” Mahya said casually. “We should feed the mithril door from the dungeon to your house and tell it to convert it to coins. We owe Al quite a lot.”
My head turned toward her. “For what?”
She stretched, arms over her head, then gave me a look like I should already know. “He paid for the first fancy hotel we stayed at in the outpost. The really expensive one. Each of us owes him forty mithril.”
I almost choked on air and started coughing.
Mahya reached over and patted my back. “There, there. Don’t have a heart attack. Yeah, it was expensive, but it was still fun, and we can always make more money.”
I cleared my throat and stared at her. “Isn’t this supposed to be my line? You’re the one who’s always after money.”
She smirked and crossed her arms. “I would like to remind you of the time you complained about having too much money. I said we needed it because of the prices in higher mana worlds. And this world proved my point rather well, don’t you think?”
I had to admit defeat and concede that she was right. This world had definitely cured me of any lack of motivation to earn more money. In less than two months, my gold had dropped from eight hundred fifty thousand to seven hundred and change—and that was after selling a spell marble and earning some mithril in a dungeon.
It took us another three days of sailing before we found a good place to stop and stay for a while. The signs of war were everywhere. Boats and ships passed us on the river, weighed down with refugees and overloaded cargo. Scorched towns lined the banks, their buildings blackened and half-collapsed, silent reminders of what happened. In a few places, we saw fighting still going on. Residents fleeing as soldiers clashed in the streets, smoke rising behind them. Flying ships sometimes appeared in the sky, circling like vultures.
The morning after my conversation with Mahya, I woke with a start, my heart pounding and my ears ringing from the echo of an explosion.
I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my shirt on the way out, and bolted to the deck barefoot. Al was at the helm, one hand on the wheel.
“What happened?” I asked, still blinking sleep out of my eyes.
He pointed toward the left bank without looking away from the river. “The ships bombed something there.”
I followed his gesture, squinting toward the shoreline. Thin trails of smoke rose behind the forest, curling into the morning sky like ghostly fingers. The sky was empty with no ships in sight. I let out a slow breath, and the tightness in my shoulders eased.
On the second evening, we reached a mountainous region. Peaks rose on both sides of the river, stacked one behind the other in deep rows that just kept going. The slopes were green and steep, packed with trees and thick undergrowth that came right up to the water. Long shadows from the cliffs stretched across the deck, and the air felt cooler.
The following day, I flew up to scout the area. It was mostly open nature. I did pass over a small town at the foot of a mountain, but that was the only one. The farther I went into the mountains, the wilder it got. Closer to the river, the forest was relatively dense, which I wasn’t a fan of. I mean, it looked great—green, peaceful, all that—but I couldn’t forget those bear-like creatures the size of elephants we saw near the Gate. I had no interest in meeting one up close and personal.
Luckily, I found a basin deeper into the mountains. Or at least, something close enough to call one. It was a medium-sized lake surrounded by high peaks. What really caught my attention were the herbivores, dozens of them, drinking from the water or just lying around near the shore. And as far as I knew, when prey animals were that relaxed, it usually meant no scary beasts or monsters nearby.
The lake had a small island in the middle with an old stone house on it. I flew closer to check it out, and it was clear the place had been abandoned for a long time. It was perfect. I could open my house inside the old structure, and it would keep us completely hidden. I snapped a picture to show Mahya and Al later, then sighed. It was a mechanical camera, so no digital screen to preview the shot. And my darkroom was inside the house. Oh well. They’d just have to take my word for it.
Comments
Angela Roberts
Makes sense. I'm wondering if Mahya is getting ready to go on her own again.
