Delvers LLC 5, ch 3

This chapter took me forever, but I am very, very happy with how it turned out.

:)

Thank you for your patience.  Beginning a book always takes me a while.
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Bezzi-ibbi didn’t move anything other than his eyes while tracking a fish beneath the surface of the water.  Gentle ripples from the little creek he was standing in lapped against his knees.  When the time was right, his arm shot forward while transforming a finger, turning it into a gig spear.  The strike was true, and he grinned as he held up what would be dinner tonight.

Catching a fish using his quicksilver arm normally wouldn’t be that big of an achievement, but this time he’d done it with his other hand.  It had taken him two years to use both arms with equal skill.  After arriving in this place, his first year of training he’d had to learn how to “phase” his quicksilver, move it, turn it on and off around his body.  Another year had been spent focusing on his second arm.

Now he just needed to work on his legs.

Sunlight filtered through the thick forest canopy above, and some of it glinted off the fish’s scales.  Little scenes like this had been hitting Bezzi-ibbi harder lately.  It felt...good to be among the trees.  Are you going to head back? Asked a voice.  He heard it with his heart, not his ears.

Yes, Bezzi-ibbi thought.  He’d recognized the voice of his friend, Arale.  She usually manifested as a green mouse, at least to his vision, but she was invisible right now.

May one of use accompany you? She asked.  It is Gragon’s turn.

That will be fine, thought Bezzi-ibbi.  The spirits of the forest always asked his permission before any headed back with him.  They sort of attached themselves to him, otherwise they couldn’t leave the forest.  He found the way they always asked sort of endearing, which was good because they weren’t going to change.  The spirits could be very stubborn.

Bezzi-ibbi quietly sang to himself as he climbed the hill, his catch strunge on a line.  He unrolled his sleeves and straightened his tie.  Later today he’d likely change into clothing better suited for exercise, but time for catching food and cooking was his only real time to himself, and he wanted to wear decent clothes...at least once in a while.

He stopped at the top of the hill to admire the view.  Even after two years, this place stirred his hunter’s heart, filled him with awe.  Giant trees grew as far as he could see, with mountains rising in the distance.  Smaller trees nearby had exotic fruit that Bezzi-ibbi had never seen before, but some he recognized from tales of the Mo’hali homeworld.  He turned and could barely see a plume of smoke rising into the sky miles away where some sort of village or settlement existed.

Bezzi-ibbi hadn’t seen any villagers, though.  He’d only ever met with one physical person.  It was time to tell his teacher that he’d caught a fish and would begin cooking it.

He moved up the last few sets of carved stone stairs to what looked like a cave mouth… at least at first.  Once he was inside, as usual, he passed deep shadows and saw what was really inside the hill.

The vast, open doors revealed a temple, bored directly into the solitary mountain adjacent to the hill Bezzi-ibbi had just climbed.

If the doors had been closed, Bezzi-ibbi didn’t think he’d be able to move them.  They were made of wood, but truly massive, bound with silver and inlaid with gold.  When he’d first come to this place, it’d been odd to see so much gold used for decoration, but he was used to it now.  What still startled him from time to time though was how much iron and steel existed in this world.

Bezzi-ibbi shook his head as he passed a polished steel lamp set into the wall.  These days, he even carried a steel knife on his hip.  With his Hero powers, he didn’t really need to carry a blade, but he enjoyed it.  Not only that, his teacher had been pounding home the ideas of redundancy and back up plans for the last two years.

Behind him, he heard a whisper-like sound over the stone of the hallway and glanced back to see “cleaner bots” following him.  The little shell-like machines whirred and hummed as they kept the entire temple complex spotless.  Since Bezzi-ibbi had brought in a fish, and the fish dripped occasionally, three of the cleaners were following him.

Persistent things, he thought.  The concept of creations that had a sort of life of their own wasn’t completely alien to him.  He’d seen Dolos bots before, and he’d heard stories of the Mo’hali worlds, away from Ludus.  Ignoring the cleaner bots hadn’t taken long.

Down another hallway, Bezzi-ibbi didn’t even spare a glance for the massive steel doors that soundlessly irised open as he approached.

His mentor, teacher, or jailer, depending on the day, was sitting still as a statue in a throne-sized chair, his chin in his hand.  The man looked vaguely Terran, but in a way that reminded Bezzi-ibbi of Dolos.  There was no naturally-born man who had ever looked quite like this.

He was wearing the same clothing he always wore; simple pants, plain boots, and a rough tunic over his muscular physique.  His level of stubble on his square chin never seemed to change.  The steel breastplate he wore would have been worth a fortune on Ludus, but here, wherever this place was, Bezzi-ibbi understood it was not a sign of wealth.  The mysterious man always presented himself as humble, even though he practically burned with power.  He was seemingly staring at nothing if he sat on this chair, but Bezzi-ibbi knew that somehow, his teacher was always aware of everything within a mile or so around him.

“Master, I’ve returned.  I’m going to cook this fish.”  The Jaguar Clan Mo’hali boy held up his catch.

The previously motionless man turned, and just like that he didn’t seem so unnatural anymore.  “No, just put your fish on the table over there, Bezzi-ibbi.  Your food will be prepared for you by the ‘bots today.  You were planning to eat in about two hours, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That is fine. It will be ready by then. Before that time, there is someone that I want you to meet.”

Bezzi-ibbi’s curiosity exploded.  Nothing like this had happened before.  “What is going on, Teacher?”

“You are going to have training partners from this point on.  Two other instructors will be joining me as well.”

“Did the others who came through the Archway of the Ancestors before have training partners?”  When Bezzi-ibbi had first come to this place, when he’d realized how powerful his teacher was, he’d been hesitant to ask questions. Now he didn’t hold back. If his teacher didn’t want to tell him something, he would just pretend nothing had been asked.

One of the questions he’d never answered was what his name was.  Two years, and Bezzi-ibbi still just called him “sir,” “teacher,” or “master.”

The grizzled, mysterious man said, “Not exactly. But things have changed in the universe, and the quality of students have changed.  You in particular seem to be incredibly gifted.”

That was news to Bezzi-ibbi. His teacher had never told him he was doing poorly, but he hadn’t said otherwise, either. The Jaguar Clan heir had just assumed he was a bad student because it felt like he’d made so little progress in two years of near-constant training.  He would have trained even further, but his teacher had insisted that he learn mathematics, sciences, and other disciplines too.  Luckily, Bezzi-ibbi had only had to sacrifice a couple extra hours of sleep a night--his room somehow allowed him to learn while he slept.

“Gifted?”

“Yes.”  The man didn’t say anything further and stood.  Now that he was upright and moving, Bezzi-ibbi was struck again by his teacher’s power and fluid grace.  He was definitely a true hunter if nothing else.  Not only were his footsteps silent, if Bezzi-ibbi would not even be able to tell he was there without looking at him.  He was not sure exactly what his teacher was, but was not to be trifled with...or underestimated.  “Follow me,” he said.

Bezzi-ibbi’s curiosity was even stronger than before now, which hadn’t seemed possible.  He dutifully followed his teacher out of the temple and cast sidelong glances at him as they walked, trying to get some further clue about what was happening.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, his teacher began to speak.  “You have mastered moving your quicksilver.  Now it will be a simple matter to use both arms at once, then all four limbs, and eventually your entire body.”

“My whole body?” Bezzi-ibbi had never heard of anything like this before.  He’d spoken his question in Panum, the Mo’hali language, and his last word had practically been a hiss.

“Yes.  Now that you have progressed further on the Way and it is sure you will be staying and training longer, it is worth explaining more to you.  During the time you have been living here, the diagnostics machines have been studying you.  I have also learned about your entire life through conversation.  All of this data has allowed me to discover what the creature ‘Dolos’ has done to you.”

“Dolos...creature?” Bezzi-ibbi whispered.  Louder, he asked, “What was done to me?”

His teacher turned briefly before fixing his gaze forward again.  “As you know, you are not the first Mo’hali ‘Hero’ that I have taught.  A ‘Hero ring’ from Ludus can react different ways to a host, but they are not pre-programmed to do so the way the “orbs” that Dolos crafts behave.  In your case, it seems that your Terran brothers Jason-ibbi and Henry-ibbi left an impression on you.  The high usage of magic, and a life and death struggle, all within a day of you donning the Hero ring, meant that your powers are a hybrid mix of your brothers’, at least at the conceptual level.”

“But, Jason-ibbi teleports.  He has space-time magic and--”

“No, I do not mean you will have exactly the same powers as they do.  Your human brothers use what you call ‘magic.’ They are conduits for Dhu symbiotes.  Your power is entirely different.  When your abilities manifest further, they will likely reflect certain themes or aesthetics of your brothers’ magic.  Further explanations can wait until you meet your training partners.  They will need to hear some of this, too.”

“Oh. Alright.” He didn’t know what else to say to that.  Other than instruction on ways to use his hero powers or fight better when he sparred against training bots, his teacher hadn’t exactly been chatty over the last two years.  This felt like the most the man had spoken at once since the first week Bezzi-ibbi had arrived and they’d met.  Most of Bezzi-ibbi’s interactions in the temple complex had been with a robotic custodian.  When he’d spoken to his teacher, half the time he’d just been asking Bezzi-ibbi questions about his childhood.

Over the last two years, solitude might have been the worst part of his training if not for the friends he’d made in the forest.  After a few months, he’d begun to feel them.  He thought of them as spirits, but still wasn’t sure exactly what they were, and hadn’t wanted to ask his teacher.  Most of the time they stayed invisible and followed him around.  If Teacher ever noticed, he never said anything.

What do you think this is about? Asked Bezzi-ibbi.  His question was silent, asked through his hero power.

He remembered that the spirit Gragon should be following him.  Whenever Gragon had appeared to Bezzi-ibbi in the past, he’d  always taken the shape of a blue, mostly transparent wolf.  I do not know, said Gragon.  Your teacher never does anything without reason, though.  This should be interesting.

Bezzi-ibbi just made a small, subvocal growl of agreement and stayed quiet after that, thinking.  The handful of spirits in the forest he’d attracted with his training, and eventually befriended were incredibly helpful when it came to anything involving flora, fauna, or survival, but knew little to nothing about much else.  Sometimes they could offer surprisingly interesting insights to his Hero abilities, though.

Teacher led him to an area that they’d trained at before.  There were several buildings, like pyramids or temples, with stairs leading up to flat tops.  Each structure was crafted from stone and looked incredibly old.  Runes and sigils covered portions that peeked through obscuring vines, seemingly at random.

At the top of the stairs, Bezzi-ibbi studied the newcomers.  There were two other Mo’hali, like him.  They stood with their teachers, at least Bezzi-ibbi assumed.  Their teachers both looked vastly different than Teacher.  Both radiated power the same way, though.  Now that Bezzi-ibbi was more sensitive to these sorts of things, it set his teeth on edge.  He had to resist the urge to unsheath his claws.

One was female, but of no race Bezzi-ibbi had ever seen before.  She had neon-colored hair, pink skin, wide, oddly-shaped ears, slitted eyes, and what looked like gills on her neck.  Her outfit was like a toga made of shimmering scales, with clawed, bare feet poking out underneath.  Like Teacher, she had no obvious weapons.

The second powerful being was male, and stood at least eight feet tall.  He had a beard, and coal-black skin.  His clothing was formal, actually quite nice, something that Bezzi-ibbi could see himself wearing.  The giant man looked somewhat Terran, but his features were too wide, and he had a pair of big, reptilian-looking wings growing out of his back.

Bezzi-ibbi’s scrutiny turned to the Mo’hali, and they were both studying him, too.

One was female.  She was fox race, with fluffy red fur.  Her outfit was flowing, and cut in a subtle way to show off her very shapely ears and tail.  Bezzi-ibbi got the impression that she was very well aware of how attractive she was, and he made a point to not give her the satisfaction of lingering on her beauty.  After spending two years doing nothing but training, talking to spirits in the forest, and receiving instruction from his stoic teacher, tearing his eyes awa was more difficult than it otherwise would have been.  The female Mo’hali stood next to the giant winged figure.

Bezzi-ibbi’s lip twitched as he examined the last Mo’hali.  He was lion-race, a male, a few years older than Bezzi-ibbi--young adult.  Something about him, whether his expression, bearing, or something else set Bezzi-ibbi on edge.  The lion-race man was large and powerful, bigger than Bezzi-ibbi’s father.  His golden mane had one conspicuous streak of black.  He wore a casual outfit--denim shorts and a rough, open top.  Despite his bored expression, Bezzi-izzi caught a glimpse of partially unsheathed claws before they were retracted.

Had that unintentional, or a warning?  Either way, based on what Bezzi-ibbi had seen, the male had carefully sharpened his claws at some point--totally at odds with how he otherwise presented himself to the world, especially for a first meeting.  A sneaky hunter, or an insincere warrior, he thought.

Bezzi-ibbi assumed that these two had known about this event ahead of time since they’d had to travel here.  He wished he’d had more warning that he’d be meeting strangers today, but there was no point in regret for things he could not change.  This was why it was important to always look one’s best, though.

The big, winged male boomed, “Jehoel, you have kept us waiting.  Gavreel and I have been standing up here watching our students pretend not to notice each other for too long.”

Bezzi-ibbi took note of his name.  Jehoel.  Two years, and now he finally knew his teacher’s name.

“No names,” said Bezzi-ibbi’s teacher.  “You know better.”

“It’s a bit too late for that, isn’t it?” said Gavreel.  She ran one pink hand through her colorful hair.  “You are too old fashioned, Jehoel.  This is an easy task, and the war has been over for a very long time.  There is no reason for such secrecy anymore.”

“No, there are always reasons for secrecy,” disagreed the big man with wings.  “And we have the reports that the Griseus have found something worrisome.”

“I do not believe much of anything that comes from the Griseus,” scoffed Gavreel.

The winged man smiled without humor.  “I have heard even Metatron is investigating.  But I somewhat agree.  Instead, I say the time for skulking around is done.  The Host has never been stronger than now!  Let them come, and if any Aetherkin find me, they’d best be prepared.”

Gavreel rolled her eyes.  “It has not been so long that you could forget the past, Tabbris.  While I do not believe the Aether have returned, I would not presume to speak so flippantly of them.  Your words are ridiculous.”

“Are they?  I have spent the entire time since the First War improving myself, Gavreel.  What have you done?  I hear you have a wonderful garden.  This garden is sure to be very beneficial if the universe goes up in flames, I’m sure.  I hope it helps if the Aetherkin come for you, because refusing to use our names will be no prevention if they--”

“That is enough,” said Jehoel quietly.  Bezzi-ibbi’s teacher spoke softly and didn’t move, but the other two immediately stopped talking.

The brief conversation had confirmed a few things for Bezzi-ibbi, and also allowed him to intuit a bit as well.  Back on Ludus, after hearing Keeja the Ravager’s explanation of the powers in the universe, Bezzi-ibbi had done some of his own study before  coming to this place.  He’d long suspected that his teacher might be an angel.  Angel it is, he thought.  The fact he’d been spending two years eating meals in front of a being on the same level or higher than Dolos didn’t really ruffle his fur, though.

During the conversation, he’d noticed that none of the back and forth seemed to have surprised the other Mo’hali, so until now, only Bezzi-ibbi’s ears had been covered to the truth.  Also, his teacher, Jehoel seemed to be much higher ranking, or perhaps more powerful than the other two angels.

Apparently, Bezzi-ibbi hadn’t been the only one making observations.  After a moment of silence, Gavreel covered one side of her neck in a strange looking gesture and nodded at Bezzi-ibbi. “You haven’t told him anything, have you?  Your student.”

“He has not needed to know,” said Jehoel.  Then he gestured at the ground, and three seats rose out of the solid stone.  “Bezzi-ibbi, Farheem-ja, Cadon-ret, sit.”

Bezzi-ibbi moved towards the closest stone chair and kept his expression neutral. Something had just tickled the back of his mind, but he knew better than to focus on it.  His first mother had always said that the wise hunter listens to his instincts, he does not growl at them.

Once the Mo’hali were seated, the three angels stood facing them, with Jehoel at the front.  “You three have all come to this place through different means, and we have chosen to begin your advanced training at the same time for all of you.  If you graduate, you will be powerful leaders for your people, and perhaps lights shining in the darkness for years to come in the mundane universe.”

Mundane universe? thought Bezzi-ibbi. He made a mental note to remember the term.

“We already know all of this, Master’s master,” said the female Mo’hali, Farheem-ja.

“I don’t think that all of us do,” said the lion-race man, Cadon-ret.  “The Jaguar Clan cub over there seems to have his ears full of fur.”

Bezzi-ibbi flicked his ears forward to acknowledge the comment, then to the sides in dismissal.  He didn’t immediately rise to Cadon-ret’s bait.  Instead, he spent a second thinking first.

To most Mo’hali, at least most leader-caste Mo’hali, it would be obvious that he was jaguar-race, but Cadon-ret had just used a series of words and inflections in Panum that clearly labeled Bezzi-ibbi both a simpleton, and member of the main branch Jaguar Clan on Ludus.  When it came to Family, Panum was a very precise language.  This lion-race Mo’hali had to come from Ludus to know so much of Bezzi-ibbi’s background.  Something tickled his memories again, but he still couldn’t quite pounce on it.

He responded, “I don’t like your tone, lion-race.  Perhaps if you have a problem with my knowledge, or lack thereof, you should bring it up with my teacher.”  He nodded at Jehoel.

Cadon-ret’s ears stayed so still, Bezzi-ibbi knew he’d gotten the best of that exchange.  The attractive female between them twitched her whiskers in amusement.

Bezzi-ibbi’s stoic teacher spared him a brief glance but didn’t directly respond.  He said, “No more interruptions.  All of you volunteered to come here, you made a choice.  And you are all still here at our sufferance, because we believe in the greater good.  My time is far more valuable than yours.  The three of us are older than you can even imagine.  It is not your place to decide what I should and should not talk about.”

Gavreel nodded and said, “Cadon-ret, you are my responsibility and you are dishonoring me.  If you speak out of turn again, I will break your arm and you will be expected to continue your training as usual for three days or you will be sent back where you came from.  Understood?”

“Yes, Master Ga--, Master,” said Cadon-ret.

I do not think that man likes you, said Gragon.  Bezzi-ibbi had almost forgotten the spirit was with him, and he gave a tiny flick of his ear.

The exchange had been quick and had taken place in Bezzi-ibbi’s mind, or so he thought.  But Gavreel’s head swiveled and he narrowed his eyes.  “Silence during this lecture.  That goes for you as well, deva.  You may stay with your patron, but you must be silent, too.”  She turned to Jehoel.  “Your student has been touched by multiple deva, I can feel it.  I am surprised you have allowed this.”

“They have caused no harm, and are usually well behaved.”  The armored angel gave the air above Bezzi-ibbi’s head a flat look.  “I believe your name is Gragon, deva?  This is your first and only warning.”

Bezzi-ibbi could somehow feel Gragon shaking.  To one side, he caught sight of a very wide eyed Farheem-ja silently mouthing, “Deva?”  She was looking at Bezzi-ibbi differently than before.  There was something like awe in her eyes.

Deva? he thought.  The term wasn’t familiar at first until he remembered some of the ancient mythology studies he’d done as a child. For now he filed the word away to learn more about it later, but he wasn’t worried.  He’d long ago determined that his spirit friends weren’t dangerous and were honorable in their own ways.

Jehoel began lecturing again like none of the interruption had happened.  “One of the reasons that The Host, or angels as they are popularly known, are the greatest power of the universe is due to a natural ability, an “aspect field.”  The aspect field allows for varied control of an angel’s surroundings.  Each aspect field has a limited range and effect,  but they all provide some measure of protection and manipulation of the laws of physics.

“The strongest mortals, or perhaps quasi-mortals in the universe are Artifice holders. A small number are so powerful, they could challenge some members of the Host in raw strength, but aspect fields change everything.

"All of you have accepted and lived through donning a ‘Hero ring.’  The Griseus known as Dolos was once one of the Host.  He may have fallen, and like the rest of his kind, he does not have access to a true aspect field anymore, but he does intimately understand how they work, how they feel.  Most of his efforts have been spent on Dolos orbs, devices meant to uplift mortals similar to Artifices, and to ultimately replicate their effects.  But he has also spent time attempting to artificially recreate the effects of an aspect field within mortals.  His experiments have resulted in an ultra-efficient and compact version that a mortal could use, could master.”

Sudden understanding dawned on Bezzi-ibbi as he heard this explanation, and he held up his hand.  Over the last two years he’d learned how to disguise his quicksilver, make his body look like regular flesh and blood again.  He looked up in time to see his teacher nodding.

“Yes, all three of you have understood.  Mo’hali hero rings were created as an experiment to duplicate this unique power of The Host.  Despite the fact that Dolos can be cruel, and petty, and overall unpleasant, he is brilliant...if flawed.  If not for Hephestiel, Dolos would have been more well known throughout the universe.  Although the mortality rate is far too high for Dolos to ever achieve much credit for the development of Hero rings, the Host has recognized the potential value of Mo’hali Heroes long ago.  This training area was constructed for this reason.  It is also why a few teachers have been on post here for many, many years.

“Again, Dolos’ devices are not perfect, but it is the opinion of The Host leadership that a few exceptional individuals may on day be able to achieve something special, become a unique sort of warrior. What’s more, they believe that such a warrior could train other Mo’hali Heroes, other Mo’hali soldiers, and might even find a way for Dolos’ cursed rings to be safely used by any Mo’hali without such sacrifice.  If so, Dolos’ half-failed experiment could be salvaged for the greater good.”

Jehoel fixed them with a steely gaze.  “And now, times are growing darker at the same time as this place receiving three of the most excellent candidates ever seen to perhaps become a true, fully realized Mo’hali Hero.  Now you must work harder than you have ever struggled before in your life.  If you succeed, if you manage to actually pass our entire training program, nullifying the magic of Dhu-based mages will be trivial.  The true potential of your Hero rings is unknown, but you would at least be able to protect yourself from almost any kind of attack, or even to stop an Artifice holder in their tracks.

“Now I will demonstrate.”  Jehoel gestured to Tabris, the big, bestial angel.  “Plasma pistol, please.  Also, please demonstrate its use first.”

Tabris drew a boxy looking weapon from somewhere and held it loosely at his side.  It looked sort of like a hand crossbow, or an air pistol but had acute angles and smooth, rounded areas as well.  Parts shined with chrome.  There was a small glowing portion and a window with tiny text.  The pistol would have looked massive in any normal person’s hands.

The big angel said, “This is an energy sidearm from the ancient days of forbidden tech.  It is similar to what many Areva soldiers use now, but several times more powerful.  Please pay attention.” He aimed the pistol into the distant forest, at a big hill. Something clicked, and suddenly there was a fireball  the size of the Jaguar Clan house in Mirana erupting, climbing above the trees in a half circle of hellish destruction.  A mild shockwave felt like a breeze over Bezzi-ibbi’s fur.  His jaw dropped.

“That was a wide range blast, meant for dispersion.  This weapon will fire as fast as I pull the trigger.”  He grunted.  “Hmm. This won’t do.  I must prevent any forest fires or any other unpleasantness.  One moment.” Tabris raised a hand and the air shimmered around him.  A few seconds later, the area where the pistol had lit the forest on fire suddenly just stopped burning.  Debris that had been blown into the air came screaming back down to the ground faster than gravity would normally allow, all falling in a tight clump.  Tabris nodded and said, “Now I will dial the setting to the tightest beam and most power for single target penetration.”  He adjusted something on the weapon, then pointed at a large tree at the end of the temple complex. “That will be my target.”

For three seconds, Tabris pulled the trigger on the pistol many times.  The weapon clicked and made a weird whine that Bezzi-ibbi had never heard before.  He couldn’t see any effect and frowned in confusion.

Tabris looked around slowly. “I can see that none of you understood what just happened.  Sometimes I forget that not everyone’s eyes are as good as mine. I apologize.”  He turned to Jehoel. “May I discharge the pistol straight down?”

“Yes.”

Tabris aimed his pistol in front of his toe and pulled the trigger.  The strange weapon made its signature whining noise.  This time Bezzi-ibbi was able to see what happened.  A hole about half the size of a Terran’s pinky fingernail had appeared in the stone.  At the same time, a puff of smoke, or powdered stone began to drift up lazily from the spot.  An acrid stench filled the air.

“This weapon will penetrate at least four feet into solid stone.  One reason it was retired from use is because mortals kept damaging their fellows with it. Friendly fire during the first few years of the First War was a serious problem.  Not only that, these sorts of weapons proved ineffective on too many enemy-types, or too situational to be worth the effort of production.”

Jehoel said, “And me now, please.”  Tabris aimed the pistol directly at Jehoel’s chest. Jehoel seemed completely unbothered and said, “An aspect field is more effective than any armor.  Please shoot me now, instructor.”

Bezzi-ibbi watched closely, and still almost jumped when the weapon whined, and the area in front of his teacher sparked.  A ripple formed in the air, making what looked like heat waves spreading out from where the pistol had struck.  Bezzi-ibbi had no idea what the boxy little thing was shooting, but he’d seen what it could do now.  He was fascinated.

“An aspect field can be ultra-condensed to function as armor, or expanded to influence the surrounding world.  I will demonstrate the latter,” said Jehoel.

Tabris aimed the pistol again, and his finger moved on the trigger, but nothing happened.  Then the gun mysteriously fell apart in his hand, disintegrating as it fell, turning to dust.  The big angel let his arm drop.

Jehoel continued his lecture.  "Aspect fields are versatile, but are used differently when in conflict against each other.  The easiest way to explain it is to say Aspect fields contract when they come into contact with a superior aspect field, as if they had encountered pressure.  In a fight between two of the Host, or a Host warrior and a Fallen who uses their own bastardized version of an aspect field, one element of the fight would be the control of aspect fields, exerting suppression against each other this way.  We will demonstrate this for you later in your training.  We hope that there will never be a case of two fully realized Mo’hali heroes were to engage in combat, but we plan to be thorough.

“Your hero fields, if you learn to use them correctly, will never be at the same level as a Host aspect field.  However, if you complete this training, you will be able to use them as both weapons and armor.  Of course, you will always also have the stigmata that you received, your body-altering abilities.”

Jehoel paused and turned to face each of the three Mo’hali before saying, “I know you are wondering why you are only hearing all of this now.  After all, you have all been in this world, this reality for different numbers of years, and for all of you, the time has been significant.  The answer to this question is simple.  Any knowledge of aspect fields is...encouraged...not to be spread.  Now you all carry this burden of knowledge.  Please understand that if you were to attempt to spread this information unwisely, you would incur the wrath of all the greatest powers of the universe.”

There was a moment of stillness as Jehoel stopped speaking and just stood there, looking at them.  Bezzi-ibbi could hear himself breathing it was so quiet.  He glanced over and noticed the other two Mo’hali were furiously flicking their ears, then realized that he was doing the same thing.  Everything had been a lot to hear all at once!  It also wasn’t every day that a hunter could experience receiving death threats from one of the most powerful beings in existence.

But underneath his surprise, Bezzi-ibbi’s mind was whirring like a wheel speeding downhill.  He’d noticed that the entire time, even after such things had already been revealed and were obvious, his teacher had never actually confirmed any of the instructors’ names, nor the fact that they were Host.

Jehoel broke the weighty silence.  “Now that you have filled your minds, it is time to move your bodies.  You will all run ten times around this pyramid complex.  Once you are finished, we will have a training session on building and extending your Hero abilities.  If you three progress, we may receive more students, or perhaps others to help with training.  As I have said, your training will get harder.  The only way to stay here, to keep learning from us will be through hard work, discipline, and talent.  If you succeed, you will be the first of your species to ever do so.  Good luck.  Now go.”  He pointed down the stone steps.

Bezzi-ibbi blinked, but didn’t let surprise catch him napping in the bushes.  He sprang up and moved down the stairs.  When he realized that he was swishing his tail in agitation, he stilled it, collecting himself.  So you are a deva? He thought at Gragon.

I suppose so.  Your teacher seems to know more than I do.  All of us in the forest are...new.  If you can teach us anything about ourselves, this would be good.  Gragon paused.  I would appreciate it, friend.  It would be good to know what I am.  Now that I know there is more to know, I would like to...discover it.

Bezzi-ibbi sighed.  He’d suspected that his spirit friends were all young, and this confirmed it.  If they truly were deva from Mo’hali mythology, he’d been very, very fortunate to meet them, especially now.

Before he was all the way down the steps, Cadon-ret brushed past him more aggressively than necessary.  If Bezzi-ibbi didn’t have firm footing and his constant training, the bump might have knocked him entirely off the stairs.  He glared at the lion-race man’s back.

Cadon-ret, he thought.  What a waste of fur.  It was unfortunate to share the sky with such an unpleasant fellow.

Wait...Cadon-ret...

His eyes flew open as he suddenly understood what his subconscious had been trying to tell him, what had been bothering him about Cadon-ret.  Ret.  The letter that Rark-han had left Bezzi-ibbi had been very clear about things happening in the Mo’hali country, Jallen.  One of the Clans that had allied with evil was the Pride Clan, and their chief’s name was Sondo-ret.

Rark-han had named himself Bezzi-ibbi’s Ghost Claw.  Such relationships went two ways.  He had not been Bezzi-ibbi’s vassal for long, but he’d made a big impression, and most importantly, he’d never lied.  Based on what Rark-han had told Bezzi-ibbi in the letter, any Mo’hali Hero with any integrity had a duty to go to Jallen, to set things right.

Bezzi-ibbi studied Cadon-ret with fresh eyes, not just a hunter’s, but those of the Jaguar Clan heir, Mo’hali Hero, and future future Jaguar Troubadour.  The big lion-race man must have felt it.  He turned and their gazes met. Bezzi-ibbi saw an edge of cruelty, and noticed the flickering shadow of disdain cross the other man’s face.

In that moment he knew he might have just met one of his greatest enemies.  Amazing.  He’d left Ludus entirely, and yet his problems had come to meet him here.

“There is sometimes very little vegetation between the path of coincidence, and that of fate,” Bezzi-ibbi whispered to himself.  This particular saying was not his first mother’s, but one of his birth mother’s favorites.  It truly did seem to be true more often than not.

Bezzi-ibbi was not sure how long the training in this strange land would last, but he was determined to succeed, and he began to think about how he might kill Cadon-ret before returning to Ludus.  He briefly wondered if the other Mo’hali man was thinking the same about him.

After hitting the bottom of the steps, he began to run.  A simple warmup like this would not even make him sweat much, so he did not regret wearing a decent outfit, especially since he’d met strangers for the first time.  First impressions were important, especially for a Jaguar Troubadour.  Bezzi-ibbi paced himself, watching Cadon-ret and listening to Farheem-jaw running behind him.  Even her running pace sounded attractive!  She had a very light step.  Bezzi-ibbi shook his head, refusing to be distracted by the female, especially now that he’d identified an enemy.  He considered speeding up, but decided not to.  It was not important to beat Cadon-ret in this first group training exercise, at least not yet.  He did not want to be last, though.

His whiskers twitched and he wondered what his human brothers would do in this situation.  After thinking about it a moment, he decided that Jason-ibbi would most likely watch and plan, at least at first.

Bezzi-ibbi grinned and let his tongue hang out in laughter for a few seconds.  His training in The Land of the Gods had definitely just gotten much more interesting.  Who ever knew that even on his own, he would be acquiring so much material to write new songs!?