Typo Alley~P Part Two

I survey my surroundings. Most of the area near me is burning hot, but there is a small area where it is clear. Seeing no use in running, I walk in that direction. I've already exhausted myself in the fight with Sebler and I'm just glad it's over and I can relax, if only for a while. Now, I'm finally starting to see what it was like for Cros when he was taking on Sebler single-handedly. It's quite a chore.

As I emerge from the ring of fire — that sounds far, far too epic for me to be involved — I can see the effects the fire already has had on the land. In many places, the the underbrush has been totally consumed and others where large trees have fallen and become charred. The effects form a rather dismal sight.

If I weren't concerned about keeping myself and my friends alive, I would be sad that so many beautiful trees were being destroyed. The underbrush will grow back, but it will take decades for the trees to come close to their former glory.

"Racen!" Wold cries. "We're so glad you're safe. We were worried about you."

"You were in more danger than I was. At least I have some magic to defend myself."

"Some?" Aiey says doubtfully. "Do realize how powerful you are?"

"Well, sort of. It's kind of hard to say when I just learned how to use this today."

"Incredible!" Aiey exclaims. "I can hardly believe it. You've acquired the ability to regenerate your skin. That's something no other magician has ever managed to do, and many have tried. For most abilities, it takes years of honing for them to mature. Are you sure you just learned this?"

"Positive," I reply. "I mean, if it can take years, a couple months of learning versus picking them up right away isn't a huge difference."

"Well, I still find it incredible. If you work hard you could become a very powerful mage."

"You mean if I survive?"

"I don't think you'll have any trouble doing that."

"I'm not sure how to reply. I can't just constantly fight for my survival. I'll breakdown at some point or other, and when I do, I'm not sure what will happen."

"Still, being able to wield your powers for as long as you did is a good sign. Why do you think Sebler left? He must have been worn out by your efforts."

"He still came a lot closer to trapping me than I did him. He can move around basically anywhere as fast as he wants and the best I can do is pull down trees, only to have him teleport away."

"Don't disregard the telekinesis. It may be slower than you wish. But if you catch him at the right time in the right way while he's distracted it will harm him permanently. We just need to plan for the right scenario."

I sigh, tossing back my hair, and join the others as we sit in a ring around the place where we were with the animal earlier. RP continues his slow work of chopping up the beast. It's skin and flesh are tough, but RP works incessantly. Soon I can tell he's made progress. I'm sure if I were in control of Báuräc I would be able to cut meat like that up within a matter of seconds. Why not help RP along with it. Just a little. If I'm careful he won't even notice what I'm doing. It can't hurt.

I reach out with my mind and use the telewhateveritis Aiey mentioned I can feel the sword with my mind. Pushing it along seems so easy. Wait. Isn't this the exact same thing Aiey was worried about? She seems to understand things like this. She was worried when Cros carelessly used magic. Cros has spoken so much about how magic should only be used sparingly because, like all other forms of power, it can easily be a corrupting force on your brain. How did he describe it? Ah yes, like a fungus slowly decomposing a log. That doesn't sound very nice.

Sighing, I gaze deep into the depths of the forest. Everything appears so perfect and serene. Aside from the burning portion, it's rather peaceful. A casual observer would probably find it hard to believe that such a pastoral, idyllic island could host a large army, much less two dangerous magicians. It seems strange picturing myself like that. I never could have imagined me, Racen, as a dangerous person. Or, for that matter, a magician who is practically invincible in a fight and can hurl objects around with the brain. All of this is going to take some getting used to. A lot of getting used to.

RP is fixate his work of wiping off his sword with his special towel. He then sheaths Báuräc. Thanks to him, the mean is no carved into several sections. Now, all we need is a fire. RP calls Wet over, and the two of them easily work together to to get the fire going. Their work makes it seem like such an effortless task, almost like throwing stuff around for me. I've never been very good with tasks involving using my hands, not even writing.

"How long will the meat take to cook?" Wold inquires.

"I don't know," RP replies. "I've never cooked an animal like this. Based on the toughness, I think it may be while."

"Don't cook my portion of the meat. I'll eat mine raw." RP winces. "It's not that bad, at least not for me. It just feels a little bit tougher and probably there are some other minor changes. I actually prefer it that way.

"That's just repulsive," RP replies, turning up his nose in disgust.

"It's no different from you eating a raw veggie versus a cooked one. You would understand if you were a carnivorous animal like me."

"Fine," RP says, grudgingly cutting Wold's share of the meat away with his dagger.

He lowers it down close to her, but Wold jumps up eagerly and snatches the slab of meat out of RP's hands ripping it apart with her hungry teeth. A sudden pang of hunger takes my stomach by storm. Fighting Sebler has left me weak, tired and hungry. When I was consumed with the adrenaline rush, I didn't even think about eating or sleeping or anything like that, but seeing Wold eating like a starving bear reminds me of my own stomach.

Wold looks up from her meal and sniffs, so I immediately go rigid. Does she smell the army approaching again? Or worse, Sebler. I bite my lip and stand up, nervously waiting for her to give the warning, but after ten or fifteen seconds she puts her head back down and continues her gorging. With a relieved sigh, I sit back down on the log, twiddling my thumbs and sure which is worse. Is it the chilling silence and boredom, or the constant tension and adrenaline of dueling with Sebler?

"Smells like there might be a storm," Wold says, looking up after the end of her meal. Wow! She ate fast.

"What kind of a storm?" I ask.

"A big one," she replies. "Not a hurricane, but definitely big. In the worst case scenario, we may have to move up a few hundred feet. Life on an island can be quite fragile at times."

"I hope it won't put us too close to Sebler and his men."

"I don't think it will," Wold replies. At any rate, it probably won't strike for several house. Most likely we'll be hit in the early hours of the morning, if it comes our way. The Author never warned us of a storm, but that doesn't mean there won't be one. He doesn't tell us everything, as much as we might like that."

"He never tells us about extraneous things," Aiey replies cryptically, "only the connecting dots. He gives us all the clues we need to find our opponent, but he gives us very little instruction on how to deal with him"

"Hmm. That makes sense, sort of. He just tells us things like he did to foreshadow Racen's sudden ability to use magic. I'm certain that's what he meant when he talked about help coming from unexpected places."

"You're right, Wold," Aiey replies. "That makes perfect sense. I never thought about it in that way before, but it does seem to fit the puzzle. Still, I never would have expected the help to come from you, though Racen. You never stuck out to me as our primary fighter."

"You're surprised? Try being me! I'm twice as shocked as the rest of you combined?"

"You did a wonderful job," Aiey replies. I can tell she is hardly able to contain her emotions, her excitement bordering on awe.

"It really wasn't that much. When I use magic, everything I do is natural like flexing a muscle. But when you use it too much you start running out of energy and grow tired."

"I know. Cros told me a little bit about what it's like. To be honest, I'm unsure whether I wish I could do things like that. In a way, I want to say yes, but he always talked about how he felt like he didn't have as much control over his brain while he was doing it. That doesn't sound pleasant.

With a shrug, I get off the log and walk over and lean against a tree. The wood seems strangely soft. Sleeping on the wooden floor of the boat has made me grow used to the hard touch of wood. Having the chance to lie in a real bed sounds like heaven, right now. It's been a long time since I've felt the soft, sagging of an actual bed. The warmth of being inside and covered by blankets is just plain incredible.

While leaning against the tree, I slowly drift in and out of sleep. Every time I wake up, I've slid a little further down the tree until I'm finally on the soft ground. When sleep comes, it is fitful, and occasionally, I'll hear a faint yell or hear something in the forest and wake up; but mostly, it's the roots to the tree that cause me to stir.

I wake up fitfully to the touch of Wold's paw. The sun is set and I feel groggy, unsure how long I've been here. I just know it's been a while. With a groan, I sit up and look round the camp site. Everyone is huddled by the fire, and I realize that the temperature is fast dropping. It looks like the meat is ready to be eaten. That must be shy Wold woke me.

I stand up and slowly walk over to the campfire, grabbing the meat with my hands. We don't have any plates with us since nearly all our supplies were swallowed by the ocean when Sebler burned up the Vessel. I'm too tired to care. Upon seating myself on the log, I tear into my meal hungrily, not giving any care to if I'm using good manners or not.

"Did you make any for me?" a deep, familiar voice asks.