The Fool 22

By evening, Orison was starting to feel the strain and Cray was bone weary. The excitement of the archer's discovery of natural talent and the extra bit of physical advantage he had over the young mage met the hard wall of limitation and the extra burden of his eight year old shadow. Ironically, it was that 'shadow' that had found them a nice place to lay the Cabin.

Between the clefts of a small creek created gully was a washed out cavern supported by two large stones that leaned against each other, buried untold years ago. It wasn't a good spot to lay over to spring at but it would do for a good rest and allow them a sheltered breather for a day. Orison fully intended to check out of their occasionally flooding camp site after a two night stay.

That night, after a joyless dinner of Roy's Famous 'artificial honey and almost spoiled milk' Flavored Every Meal Bar, they immediately took a small coma. With the overly curious eight year old wedged between them to keep him from turning the cabin into a landfill site, they grudgingly shared the last blanket they owned. That didn't stop them from waking up to a scream due to the boy scalding himself in the bath after making a mess with toilet water.

The golden mercy that came from that was the boy spending most of the day watching them carefully instead of destructively experimenting on his own. Orison managed to get through exploring the cabin for other mysteries and finding two small hidden storage devices in the other Rogers uniforms, in relative peace before curiosity started overcoming memories of pain. To keep from the boy snapping the young mage's last nerve, Cray lead the kid out to the 'front yard' where the archer started teaching Heath his 'letters'.

With knowledge on how other hidden features were constructed, the young mage easily found bookshelves faced with false log panels by the inner side of the bed. Within were the books he had stored to help Hunter make hard choices at the lich's barrow. Most of it was mundane but useful knowledge. Among them was a guide to magic item crafting and two books on potion making, however.

The discovery of a pulling privacy divider for the bed area lead to the discovery that the bed itself lifted off the floor. Doing so revealed that the lock box under the bed was just a small part of a shelf. Continuing to lift, a part of the floor detached to raise into a workbench. Below was a storage area that had a five galleon distiller, a brew kit and some empty bottles stored in five galleon oak barrels. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

He was about to close it back up until he noticed that one of the four barrels was sealed. It was filled. The label on the side read Gany-mead. Unlike anything else in the entire house, it was caked in a layer of dust and the hand prints on the side were small and numerous. It was as if great effort was used by a weak person to move it. The maker's mark underneath read 'Seven of Seven'.

"Well, with such a mellow name, it's probably something really special in a good way. With Sammy's tongue in cheek style, something named after Zeus' cup bearer will probably be a real treat. It's odd, though. I don't think it's like her to give out the last of anything," he mused as he walked to the bathroom.

With something that made use of the space on one side of the source tray, Orison was certain that the other side would as well. Try as he might, there didn't seem to be anything in the bathroom. Moving outside, he dug around the lip of the cabin before resorting to the strongest push of spirit sight he was capable of using.

Moments later, he was sitting back in the cabin, wondering what happened. There was nothing but gardening supplies and materials for a victory garden sized greenhouse inside of the bathroom side tray but the security to reach it was immense. The details on how he had finally open it were missing and he felt slightly bloated within the layer of his space he could no longer see. Whatever he had found there, he wasn't ready for but 'it' had become connected to him anyway.

Looking around the cabin, he got the sense that it's whole existence had been a cover for that one 'thing'. All the enchantments, funny little secret compartments, even the special boozes and medicines he had originally been given, they had all been a smokescreen for the passing of said mystery from Sammy to him. The most bizarre thing was that he somehow knew it was meant for HIM. Green had it for a short time only to escape someone or something's notice that had been drawn to him while he was in an Earth's afterlife.

It called many things into question. The most important part being his relationship with the boy whose soul he had been connected to. That soul's epic destiny seemed to be some kind of cover for his own fragile existence. He began to suspect that the scary book and the old man that had been connected to it were only acting out some kind of strange play to move 'Al' to where he needed to be.

With hazy thoughts roiling, Orison called out, "Cray, I have something to show you. Heath... Heath! Treats!"

As the boy came running up to him, the young mage gave him a piece of hard candy he had found in one of the female Rogers secret storage devices. He hadn't expected Cray to give him a grudging look over that or to see that look vanish completely as he handed the archer a few pieces as well. It seemed that for all his 'inner peace' Cray had some pretty childlike parts to himself as well.

Chuckling, Orison said, "I hadn't expected that you had a sweet tooth and that's not what I wanted to show you... Look at the table."

The archer panned his eyes over to see a superbly crafted compound bow with a twenty storage quiver and a stack of unopened arrow shaft boxes. There were also some smaller boxes with different style tips and some maintenance supplies but he neither knew nor cared enough about archery to be able to appreciate them. Handing them all over with one of the two empty storage device jewel pins, he let Cray figure it all out.

The other storage device only contained the feminine items Orison saw no immediate use for and the sentimental items he thought might be useful to return to their original owners or the Rogers guy, if they ever met again. The rest had been placed into Roy's 'Blood Moon' patch or stored in the cabin.

"Any good news on our vittles situation?" Cray asked after his quarter hour joy-gasm started fading away.

Orison nodded. "A few more likely equally as barely palatable flavors of cardboard have been added to our ration stock. There's some freeze dried goodies that we can spread out to keep our taste buds from dying. We've even managed to get our hands on some replacement bedding, towels and toiletry items.

"Once I've had some time to consolidate some basic transmutation and conjuring principles into a working model, we'll have things to wear besides our suits. Great news for Heath, I'm sure. He hates wearing clothes when he doesn't have to even more than me!"

Hearing his name, the boy looked up expectantly. "Teet?"

Rolling his eyes, the young mage handed the kid one more hard candy. "Why not?... but no more until after evening cardboard."

Cray said, "Until he knows enough to get the difference, you probably shouldn't be using words wrong around him."

Smirking, Orison said, "Sorry, Papa Cray."

Heath looked up, confused on what it was the young mage did wrong and looked down at the candy wrapper. Having nearly mastered the art of apology over a day's journey and another day's mischief, he recognized no, stop and sorry among a few others.

Handing the trash over to the archer, the boy said, "So-lee pa kay."

Sobering up from that display of intelligence, Orison said, "Alright, point taken... After we're back on our way tomorrow, I'm going to give this cabin's ownership over to you. It's a vague, hazy kind of thing but I think there's enough of whatever made it special to help you open an inner space.

"It'll probably be in your spiritual seat instead of your chest but that's not a bad thing. It'll help provide an extra level of protection from mental effects. After the next time we lay it down, I'll show you where all the hidey-holes in the place are. It won't be that useful til then since the cabin's going to change a little between now and the next time it's laid."

The archer blinked numbly for a moment and then said, "Why? Are you planing on dipping out or something?"

The young mage said, "No, nothing like that. It's just that it's currently ownerless and the thing it'll do once it's claimed will help open an inner space. I couldn't tell you how I know. I just do. But after that, it won't have another owner the way it is now.

"After that, it'll only be a cabin with some nifty features. It will lose whatever ability it has to be shifted and stored. I'd rather see it do the most good.

"Whatever it has left, it isn't enough to do anything much for me. Believe it or not, it's the reason I had a usable inner space at all when we woke up in that cliff. I mean, I would have had one again eventually but it would have taken longer.

"I wondered why I wasn't able to get access to the whole thing at once. The special stuff in the cabin was taking some time to stabilize what it had made before it would let me. Speaking of which, don't be surprised if you can't take it back out immediately.

"Don't worry though. I got some stuff prepared in advance. Between the girl who liked having hot meals and the one who enjoyed camping, we have a way to be relatively comfy for the time it takes you to whip the cabin back out."

Mentally rushing to catch back up, Cray said, "If that's the case, let's post up here til spring. It don't need no owner until it gets packed away, right?"

Orison shook his head. "First of all, I don't want it out unless it's claimed. Too much dumb sh-stuff has happened in the past for me to risk that. Second off, a couple of days might not be that bad but if it stays this way for too long, I'll be the only one who can take it. It was isolated within something before that it doesn't have anymore. And the thing that produced the special spiritual quality it used to aid in stowing it away, is gone now too."

As nervous as it made him, Orison placed some things from the cabin into his inner space and showed Cray the artifact center on the bottom of the lockable liquor cabinet. With a drop of blood and a choked whisper of 'I'm one of the b*tches that lights Sammy's cigars', the cabin officially belonged to the archer. As soon as that was complete, faint wisps of unknown essence that were slowly dissipating from the cabin began being drawn to Cray's spiritual seat instead.

"I'm thinking that you gave the cabin to me because of that line you gotta say," Cray said with a frown.

Orison's ears and cheeks took on a faint pinkish hue as he coughed.

"How petty would I have to be for that to be my main motivation? Can't I have done it to help a friend have their own personal inner space!? How useful and valuable is that? Who wouldn't say a couple of words they don't even have to mean to have either the space or the cabin?" he said in mock hurt.

Cray snorted. "I'm thinking maybe you!... We only got about a half day and it's gonna tuck itself in my head."

Orison burst into activity. He studied the Degree Shift formations on the stove and sinks. He observed the mending of the closet and the preservation formations on the cabinets. Lastly, he spent some time on the Presto enchantments spread throughout the cabin. He saw things the owner couldn't because their own essence and the source power that ran the cabin would obscure them.

Hours on end he studied and experimented until he had a decent cold weather outfit for Heath but found out that model casting the simplest of spells seemed, not beyond him, but too simple and fake. The smallest of magics that existed in the realm of conjuring and transmutation were seemingly a part of his concepts. He had just been under-reaching so hard, he'd missed the clues.

To use the magic of the world to cast instead of his own, a halfhearted focus of will flavored request for the things he understood was all the effort it took. It was a strange sensation that a mere whim would warp a model into existence but that was the strength of his understanding. He had been trying to light a candle with a laser cutter only to vaporize the wick.

Focusing on the sensation of reaching out to the passive elements of the world's will within its magic essence, a whole new vista opened. Within the blanket of ambient magic was echoes of the magic it had fueled before. What was rejected or accepted, what was truer than the world's will could deny and what was false but aided to work by the will of the world, although not laid bare, was slowly being revealed to him. As long as he possessed some insight into a concept's workings, the young mage could find a part of it within the etheric echos of the magic blanket, teasing out the rest.

The magic of the world was his grimoire and he could study the least corrupted forms, one teased bit at a time. That wasn't without its limitations. Several things became clear.

There was a limit to how much he could see. The world would only reveal what he was attuned to, which was conjuring and transmogrification. With spirit sight, he could vaguely see up to and slightly past the simplest forms of all magic. With effort, he could see a little further down what he could only think of as divination magic but what was revealed seemed rather specifically tied to communication.

As he stepped out to the front porch to see a little more clearly, there was a sense of the world looking back. It seemed to communicate that it wouldn't stop the young mage from seeing a certain amount but once that limit was reached, the rest would become obscure until he had earned the right to more. It was an offhanded and strange communication that was as impersonal and unfocused as it could be and still relay what was needed.

Orison quietly chuckled. "I get it. You want to stick me in a box called sorcerer the way Hunter tried to label me a warlock. That's fine. There's plenty to study. And then, when I reach that cap, I'll just 'forget' some things and study some more. What I'm aiming for is something beyond the models that control magic. I've already pried that lid loose. The will of this world won't actively move against me unless I take more than I give but looking doesn't cost anything except my time."

There wasn't a flash of light or some other 'loud' phenomenon. He had only suddenly realized himself to have become a tier four existence. Without fanfare, applause or any other form of recognition, he'd passed the hardest wall of mortal existence. He had fairly been blown by a strong breeze of circumstance through it but it had lead him through death and to kiss the very face of oblivion first.

He had only savored the subtle but deep spiritual moment briefly before two step baptisms washed over him in a row. He had been terrified that such a thing would lift him up and send him spiraling into yet another reality but it hadn't. Upon realizing that they wouldn't, a new terror gripped him. He was trapped on this world until he could find a preexisting way off or find a way to do it himself.

Distracted by his own disturbed thoughts, he almost missed the nearly invisible four ringed halo that had risen out of himself to take in the baptisms' light before collapsing back inward as five. Short of being comatose or dead he wouldn't have missed the beam of cleansing and reality bolstering light that had descended on Cray behind him. Two rings of light rose out of the archer to greet it, then collapsed back in as three.

He wondered how Cray could have slept through such an important moment but realized the bright light that he saw was from spirit sight. The mortal world would have saw very little. And they had been so visible in the low dimensions, for a very different reason.

The young mage smiled inwardly that there were at least SOME benefits for being tied to his train wreck of an existence. Orison had taken a large step in more ways than one. In the process of keeping aligned spiritually with him, the archer had innately absorbed some of the young mage's greater understandings in some form of spiritual osmosis.

As raw and newly acquired as the baptisms were, anyone nearby might receive a little benefit from it. So, he curled around the other side of Heath and let the settling echoes of his baptism wash over the kid and onto Cray as a weaker echo responded back. He needed some rest anyway. The weak and feeble flash of a first step baptism taking place just outside the cabin's kinetic field only subconsciously registered to his weary mind.