The Ethersmith Novel Interlude 4 - Start of Storm Season

“So, you’d still suggest I should beco a tea farr?” Santha asked. She tried not to smirk, but the expression ca involuntarily. She couldn’t help but feel smug when faced with her grouchy father after so many years of listening to his endless grumbling.

A stick of incense burned beside her. The hut was small and cramped, with a lone wooden table and a tiny kitchen—which in this village referred to a cutting board and so knives, perhaps a pot to boil water—and a small bed at the back with drawers underneath. The bedfra touched the silkwood walls, pushing the fabric a few inches to make more space inside.

“I should stop with this silly skill hunting and spellcasting,” Santha continued, “and settle with a village boy. I’d be treated like a rag, but at least I wouldn’t need to be loved by my peers every day, and I wouldn’t need to be so successful all the ti. Perhaps I should have just stayed at the farm. Getting praised so much is tiring. As you always told . It’s a sha I did not follow your advice and settle down.” Her smirk only grew wider.

Father stood with his arms crossed, disapproval still finding its way to his stubborn thick brows. He was a bulky man, muscles trained with endless labor, with horns so large they’d intimidate a bull. He wasn’t lazy or weak by any ans. By weight alone, he could have crushed Santha alive.

He just sucked at channeling ether, which automatically placed him amongst the category of people who required protection.

“Very funny, Santha,” father said. “Congratulations for discovering a skill. The village is proud of you.”

That’s it? Santha thought. Not even an apology?

Well, the reaction was expected. Santha could have grown into an Exalted Knight, and father still would have told Santha to get married to so hillbilly from the village, to the sa boys who trashed her dreams just like father himself, saying that a girl like Santha would never be accepted into any hunting group. And if she would, by so luck, get accepted, she’d wet her clothes the mont she saw a real monster, after which she would run back ho crying.

Santha was lucky to not have listened to any of their advice. If anything, their insistence to push her to abandon her dreams further fueled her desire to not have anything to do with farm life.

“We are all just happy you are alive,” father said. For once, his expression didn’t look totally detestable. That might have actually been sowhat honest. “Welco back. Enjoy your stay.”

With that, he stood, leaving the hut. Santha watched him go, feeling disappointed. She had hoped for a more explosive reaction. Father had always treated her like a walking marriage recipe ever since his divorce with mother.

Santha sighed. His expression was funny, I suppose. She stepped out of the hut as well.

Abundant greenery welcod her to the eighth level. Tall grass grew not only from the ground, but from the sky as well. A sky, which was so low that Matryn had lowered his head when he first entered. His horns didn’t actually touch the blades of grass growing from the sky—he would have had to be twice as tall—but the eighth level was known to feel claustrophobic, as if exploring a dungeon.

Thick tree trunks grew from the ground to the sky like columns inside a building. Flowers fought grass for space to grow. Grass was easily the winner, but a few blue dandelions showed themselves here and there, but for the most part, the eighth level was just grass, and more grass. If Santha ever grew bored of throwing supportive spells at her allies, there was always a spot reserved for her as Tallward’s designated grass cutter.

Tallward, her ho village, wasn’t really a village in the way most imagined villages, but more like a maze of paths from one hut to another. The huts themselves weren’t really buildings as much as they were insect shelters, built of silkwood, lightly coated with ether to dissuade bees and such from entering.

Santha grabbed one of the sickles from a bucket beside father’s hut. As soon as she exited the imdiate surroundings of his hut, the grass grew tall enough that the blades from the ground touched the hanging grass from the sky. A path was cut through, but blades were already drooping toward the path, growing faster than the grass cutters could slash. On the eighth level, one often had to cut their way through the grass no matter what their destination was. Santha slashed with the sickle to widen the path.

She wore pants beneath her skirt to prevent grazing her skin against whatever may have lived within the tall grass that surrounded the path. Her arms, however, were bare, which was generally a no-go in the village, but Santha could protect herself with a coating of ether if she needed to.

Ahead, the grass opened up like a field in a forest as Santha approached the village centre. Matryn’s voice ca from within, and Santha soon spotted him sitting on a log, facing five kids from the village. Long black hair spread down his shirtless back—muscular, but not brutish, with a beautiful scorched spot spreading from his spine. A coating of ether protected him from bugs. Strapped to his belt was a sheathed runesword, which he recently upgraded to two runes after reaching the second elevation.

Santha’s chest was suddenly tight. She took a step back, hiding behind the grassy path, checking her outfit and straightening her skirt. Then she bit her lip, hesitating. Maybe I should take off the pants? Does he think pants look weird under a skirt?

No, mother was present as well. She was cutting grass, though her attention was clearly on Matryn. If Santha walked in without pants covering her calves, ether hunter or not, she’d be chided for it, and that could be embarrassing. Not to ntion, the bugs would actually bite her, then.

She made do with a deep breath and stepped into the open patch within the grass, placing the sickle in another bucket, filled with similar sickles.

“No, the surge did not reanimate the grasshoppers,” Matryn was saying. “The grasshoppers were alive. Surges don’t animate live beings. It was the grasshoppers’ food storage that got hit—the bulls, the rabbits, even a few humans were stuck dead in that nest.”

The kids’ mouths opened wide. A mix of awe and fear at the thought of dead humans. Her mother eyed Matryn warily, as if wondering if she should stop this tale.

“What happened then?” Olan asked, excited.

“Monsters happened, of course,” Matryn said. His grin made the tale seem less scary. “The bulls and humans rose from the nest like zombies. Ether gave them big scary teeth and claws. Sharper than any fang tiger or wild boar.”

So of the kids jerked back, hearing that.

“So?” Olan asked, now a bit nervous. “You fought them? You won, right?”

“Of course,” Matryn said. “My team activated their skills, and I unsheathed my sword.” He unsheathed his shiny red runesword and pushed ether into it. A misty fog quickly enveloped the sword, shrouding Matryn’s face from the kids.

He slashed at the air, pushing so of the mist away, revealing his figure. The kids stared in awe. “Like that. And they were all dead, and we collected the prize. Over a thousand ether, that surge.”

Mat, you idiot, Santha thought through a grin. At least he hadn’t ntioned all the wounds and blood, and the fact that Imolinn nearly died.

“Don’t leave out my spells, Mat,” she said. “I was there as well, you know, strengthening your aura with my staff.” She grabbed her staff from her back. “I blocked that bull from charging you with a wall of ether, and I healed you when the claws hit you. You were only as strong as you were because of , really.”

The kids glanced at her for a mont before turning back to Matryn. “Is Sammy really a hunter?” Gina asked softly. “Can she cast magic?”

“Yeah, she has a few good skills,” Matryn said. “And she makes amazing tea.”

Their eyes wandered between Santha and Matryn. Tea, it seed, was not very interesting, as their eyes quickly locked back on Matryn. “What did you spend the ether on?” Olyn asked in a rush of words. “Did you buy a sword!?”

“Bills and taxes, unfortunately,” Matryn said. “It’s a tough world. Earn ether, and debt and bills and taxes and lords will take what you earn. All you can do is earn more, and fight more surges. We found one the very next day, when—”

“Boys!” Santha’s mother suddenly yelled. “Food is ready!”

“Whaaat?” Olyn complained. “But the story is not done!”

“You will hear the rest of it later,” mother said. “Up with you lot, let’s go. Food will get cold.”

The kids attempted to fight back for a mont, until more of mother’s stern commands forced them to their feet. They were led out through another path in the grass.

So of the adults stayed. Santha’s father, uncle Ymir, and father’s new wife, Elga. Santha didn’t know much about that woman, other than that she looked as arrogant as her father. Hair braided, and an upset expression plastered on her face.

That upset face, it turned out, only showed when looking at Santha. Elga smiled wide as she faced Matryn. “Would you like sothing to eat as well, hunter? There are plenty of dishes we have yet to prepare for you.”

“More tea would be nice,” Matryn said politely. “The blends are very good here.”

He smiled at Elga. Seeing that, Santha felt a special wave of distaste, even if his smile was only customary. Elga headed to brew tea, and made sure to smile sheepishly at Santha as she passed.

“Sammy has not caused you trouble, has she?” father asked. “She was always a troubleso young lady. One of the trickier ones to keep from jumping into grass.”

“She has not caused trouble,” Matryn said, eyeing him from his seat.

“She is trained to brew fantastic tea,” father continued. “Although, without the proper Tallward’s leaves, no tea can taste as good. You should bring a caseful with you once you depart.”

“Most definitely, if you’ll allow,” Matryn said.

“Of course, of course,” father said with a light laugh, as if he was so businessman. “Sammy will take care of tea for you. Despite her faults, she is a lovely young woman, and a hard worker.”

What faults? Santha shouted in her head. She bit her lip, glancing at Matryn’s expression. He was vaguely smiling, though he looked to be on guard, eyeing father warily.

“My daughter is a supportive mage, correct?” father asked. “She does not actually fight monsters?”

“She is our primary support, yes,” Matryn said.

“I see, I see,” father said. He placed a hand on Santha’s shoulder. “I believe she will do just fine. Please forgive her if she fumbles.”

Her face reddened with each word her father spoke. She couldn’t even look at Matryn anymore. Why had she even wanted to visit ho? What was the need to prove her worth to these idiots? No matter what she achieved, she’d always be dismissed as a silly little girl, one who got invited to a real hunting party out of sheer luck.

She wanted to shout. But sothing more than that—she sent an embarrassed glance at Mat.

“Sammy has always been a clumsy girl,” father continued still. “One ti, she—”

“Sir,” Matryn interrupted, now frowning.

Father blinked. Santha felt her heart beating out of her chest, throat so tight she couldn’t have spoken had she wanted to.

“Santha is an essential component of our team,” Matryn said, a stern stare pointed directly at father. “She is our primary support, and she very much fights monsters. She has saved my life multiple tis, and she has reached the first elevation by the age of eighteen. She is quite literally a prodigy. And from the stories I’ve heard of you, I do not believe her skills are of your making.”

Santha’s head turned away, so red she could have hid amongst the berries. Father was frozen for a mont, until he laughed awkwardly. “I… see. That’s great.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Matryn grabbed Santha’s hand, pulling her away from the hand on her shoulder. He picked a path and led them back into a grassy path.

“One hell of a goddamned place,” Matryn said when out of earshot. “Fucking grass everywhere, and apparently also inside the peoples’ heads. I get what you said about your dad now; guy’s an absolute storming grasshead!”

Santha’s hands were tight on her body, breathing heavy and her head low as she followed him. The scorched spot on his back contracted by his muscles as he slashed at the grass with his sword.

“Ah, sorry, it’s still your hotown, isn’t it?” Matryn said, seeing her expression.

“No, it’s fine,” Santha said. “I agree with everything you’re saying.”

Ask him, Santha thought, heart thumping with enough power to cause worry. Ask him now! Tell him how you feel!

He sighed, cutting down grass with his runesword. “I’ll try not to curse your ho too much, but holy mother of ether, that guy needs to spend a day as a suitcase. And where the hell is this path taking us?”

“It’s fine, that’s just my father,” Santha said. “He’s always like that. There’s no need to get mad. We’re headed toward the tea groves, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m not mad,” Matryn said. “I’m just very mildly, inconceivably fuming with annoyance.” He sighed. “Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Santha’s head bustled with a hundred different things she wanted to say, emotions she hoped to express, but she couldn’t form any of them into words. This man, Matryn, this swearing, reckless swordsman, dull-headed man, who never understood any hints, who was close to impossible to keep alive during a fight—he was just so tall and strong, and he slled good, and—

And suddenly, a thought ca to Santha. She stopped, and faced the tall grass to her right. “Mat?” she said nervously. “Would you like to see sothing?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sure? What is it?”

Santha grinned. She coated her skin with ether, then stepped into the tall grass, pushing blades out of her path with her hands. Trotting through was awkward, as it always was, but this was far from her first ti. Buzzing sounded around her as insects scurried off.

“Sam?” Matryn asked, fighting the grass slightly less graciously.

“Keep your skin coated with ether,” Santha said. “The bugs will bite you otherwise. I know this path, I’ve gone hundreds of tis.”

That said, finding the spot, hidden within the grass, usually took her at least a few minutes of just pushing through grass, trying to find wherever she was going. Hopefully she’d find it fast today.

Hopefully her spot hadn’t been outright destroyed.

“Sam?” Matryn asked again. “Where are we going?”

“Just shut up and follow,” Santha said. “It should be sowhere here…”

She continued pushing grass out of the way, searching for her spot. She continued deeper into the grass, around two hundred feet from the closest path. With all the grass in the way, her spot was far enough away that people passing by would struggle to hear her.

Find it! she told herself. Don’t embarrass yourself now!

She searched for a minute longer, growing nervous, until finally, the trunk of a familiar large tree ca to sight.

“Here!” Santha said, grinning. “It’s still here!”

Within the grass was a small patch of stone, from which no blades could grow—like a tiny island within a sea with just enough space to lie down and spread the arms. Beyond that… Well, there wasn’t much special about it. Santha thought of what she should say to make it appear interesting.

“So,” Matryn said, examining it, and glancing up to see the blades of grass still growing closely above. “A tree growing from stone?”

“This is where I used to practice channeling when I was young,” Santha said. “I used to sneak here every day, away from the tea fields, to just… channel ether. For hours. My father did eventually find , though.”

She sat down beside the tree. Matryn watched her for a mont before sitting next to her. More grass was ahead of them, two bugs clashing from their respective blades.

“Cozy place, I guess,” Matryn said with a funny grin. “Not much of a landscape, though, eh?”

Santha realized she was holding her breath. Her finger scratched her thigh. Her eyes panned nervously toward Matryn, lying there, beside the tree. He looked back, and she flinched away.

“Sam?” Matryn asked.

She took one long deep breath, gathering her will.

Then she began taking off her pants.

Matryn watched suspiciously. “Sam…?”

She tossed her pants aside, and loosened the strings above her chest. Her dress fell enough to reveal her bra. She turned to him, pressing a hand on his thigh.

“I’ll show you a better landscape,” she said, face red as a beet. “If… you want?”

His mouth was ajar. Slowly, his face turned red, eyes wandering in all directions, finding her eyes and eventually landing on her chest.

She advanced forth, pressing her horns against his. “Take them off,” she whispered.

He gulped, staring for a mont. He lifted a hand.

Then sothing rustled within the grass to their right.

Matryn’s face shifted to the direction. His face went serious. Samantha cursed in her head, but she, too, focused her attention to her sixth sense. A new presence moved within the grass. Not a monster. It felt like the idle aura of a powerful hunter.

Damn you, whoever you are, I would have had him! Santha cursed. She lifted her dress back up and quickly snuck her pants back on.

“The hell?” Matryn asked, fully on guard. Surges didn’t spawn in this part of the eighth level. Not unless so sort of catastrophe happened on the levels above or below. Even then, the ether would struggle to find anything to reanimate thanks to all the grass, which was alive. To see hunters here was not normal.

“Hello?” Matryn called. “Is soone there?”

The ethereal presence paused for a mont. Then a man called through the grass, “Oh. There’s people here! Hello!”

While Santha was sliding her last leg through her pants, Matryn quietly asked her, “You know that guy?”

Santha shook her head, mildly concerned. “Not a clue. I haven't heard that voice.”

Matryn looked at her for a mont, considering, until he called, “We’re coming, don’t stand near the grass!”

He cut the grass and ford a path toward the voice. The man wasn’t far, but clearing a new path cleanly through the thick grass still took half a minute. Eventually, they connected to the person’s path, and were faced with two n in uniforms.

More specifically, Ingfried’s uniforms. Dark leather jackets with a full wisp of ether embroidered on their jackets. Santha paused, wondering if sothing was wrong, or if soone was being punished, but the thin man behind the uniform didn’t look upset. Not smiling, but not upset either.

“That’s a surprise,” the knight, or surveyor, or whoever this Ingfried’s official was, said. His voice was lightly tired. “People out here in the wilds. Did we co across a village by chance?”

Matryn turned to Santha. “Yes,” she said. “This is Tallward. You’re near the town centre.”

He pulled out a map, eyeing it deeply. He seed to be having trouble, so Santha helped him out with her finger.

“Ah, thank you,” the man said, nodding. “Yes, that helps us a lot. I do believe we were getting lost.”

“What are you doing all the way out here?” Santha asked. “If you don’t mind

asking?”

Screw the both of you, assholes, Santha thought. I had him!

The man’s cheek lines fell slightly as he glanced behind himself. The second official pulled out a rod from the ground. Santha recognized it as a forecasting wand. A device to scan the ground for buildups of ether. The orb at its top glowed vaguely. Santha burrowed her brows at that. Ether was building up? On the eighth level?

“Just a checkup,” the man said. “Scanning the levels of ether before storm season. There’s no need for evacuation.”

“Evacuation?” Santha asked, confused. “The eighth level doesn’t have storms…? It has not in thousands of years. We wouldn’t ever consider evacuation. Or am I mistaken?”

“Do you, ah, live here?” the man asked, sohow sounding nervous.

“Yes?” Santha asked, raising her eyebrows. “Tallward is my ho village.”

“I see,” the man said. He glanced at his colleague, then back at Matryn and Santha. “No, there is no ether surging here. A light layer in the levelstone, of course, though that will probably shoot down to the ninth level. The storm season is forecasted to be problematic. Ingfried has ordered every level to be checked, you see.”

Santha did not see at all, and she certainly did not see why ether had welled up atop the forecasting wand. The second official hid the wand in his trunk, away from her sight.

“Regardless, we are in a bit of a rush,” the man said. “The paths of your village will be a help.”

“Ah, the village is that way,” Santha said, pointing. “I’ll lead you to it, if you’d like?”’

The man agreed, and Santha led him to the village, cutting a path through the grass for him. They made it to the village within a few minutes. The officials greeted a few townsfolk, though didn’t introduce themselves. They rely used the village as an already cleared path they could use, and Ingfried's n continued on their way, further into the eighth level.

Matryn frowned when they were gone. “Their device sensed ether,” he said.

“Yeah…” Santha said. “But they said it’s nothing. The eighth level has no storms.”

“I've heard that this storm season is not like those before it…” Matryn looked suspicious. Santha, too, felt like sothing was off about their deanor. More than that, however…

“Nevermind that.” Santha grabbed and hugged his arm, looking up at him. “I know one spot… for an even better landscape.”

***

The rest of the week passed calmly. Townsfolk, and Santha’s father, gave her a little more respect after Matryn’s quick argunt. If they as much as tried to poke fun at her, he scowled at them, quickly shutting up any attempts to berate her.

There were no monsters to hunt in Tallward. Santha only hunted one person, and she had plenty of ti to do so. Now that Matryn finally knew of her intentions, the job was a whole lot easier. Each day, they spent hours in so distant patch away from the village, where nobody would find them amongst their grassy haven. There wasn’t much else to do in this little village, other than to… well, have so fun together.

They were supposed to leave a few days ago by now. Santha had no complaints. Though, it was finally ti to leave.

“Then, it’s goodbye again,” Santha said, facing the kids, her mother, and a few adults from the village. “We must take leave now.”

“Eeeh?” Olyn complained. “But Mat hasn’t finished his tales yet!”

“Storm season is starting,” Matryn said. “There are always jobs, and a lot of ether to earn during storm season. We should have t up with the group days ago already.”

“The first storms are chaotic anyway,” Santha said. “Straggler jobs are much simpler.”

“Finding Pat and the team will be a challenge,” Matryn said. He faced the townsfolk of Tallward and bowed. “Thank you for the accommodation. Your village was lovely.”

“Don’t fret it,” mother said, smiling at both Santha and Mat. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter. And don’t you forget the tea.” She handed Mat a wooden box. A tea container.

He smiled, and bowed again. “Thank you.”

Santha said her final goodbyes, even wishing one for father and his new wife. “Next ti, I’ll be even more successful,” she said.

Father had no quippy remarks to give.

With that, she and Mat exited back toward the grassy wastelands of the eighth level. They slashed through with force, destroying grass, moving fast without worrying about accidentally hitting a house.

“Lead the way,” Matryn said. “I’m not finding any holes back down in this ss.”

Santha didn’t want to admit that the job would be difficult for her as well, but she took the position as the lead navigator. The way to the ninth level had a specific feel in the ethereal realm. If she followed it, she'd eventually find it.

So five minutes into the trip, a rumble ca from underneath. Followed by a slight tremble.

Santha glanced back at Matryn. She blinked. “Did you feel that?”

He had, she knew from his expression. They stood still for a bit, wondering if it would continue.

“Do you…” Matryn asked, “feel ether building underneath?”

Santha glanced down. She couldn’t just feel it; wisps were oozing out of the ground like steam rising from a cookpot. The trembles continued, growing stronger and louder. A surge was about to release sowhere nearby.

“Behind!” Santha shouted. “Near the village!”

Matryn gritted his teeth. They took running back the way they’d co, toward the village, ether fueling their sprint. Santha readied the staff strapped to her back, pushing ether through the runes lining its shaft.

The surge had already broken. It happened near the spot where Santha had t the two surge forecasters. The wisps floated in the air, scattering like lost spirits, struggling to find anything dead within the grassy landscapes.

A large insect buzzing with a white aura flew at Matryn. His eyes glowed with ether as he slashed it down. He scanned the surroundings for anything more.

“Santha?” father shouted behind them. “What is happening?”

“A surge!” she called. “Get everyone safe! It’s—”

A terrible sensation appeared in her sixth sense. A wall of wisps appeared in the distance—like an impenetrable avalanche. Santha had never felt anything like it. She struggled to describe it, or to even compare it against anything. It was like staring at the sun. An overwhelming amount of wisps, deafening enough to blind her sixth sense.

And it only grew stronger. Rapidly.

“Evacuate!” she shouted. “Father, sothing is coming! Evacuate the village! Now, run!”

His expression was of pure concern and confusion. It took him a few seconds to register the command.

By that point, the wisps arrived.

The impact hit like a solid wall. A full coating of ether around her skin was all that kept Santha conscious. Wisps grazed her skin, cutting her, ripping the hem of her dress, the sound so overwhelming she could barely hear her own scream.

Blades of grass were ripped from the soil, sent flying into the air alongside the hundreds of thousands of wisps, perhaps millions, surging through the level like a tsunami. In an instant, the landscape switched from grassy greenery to a horror field of active wisps.

Father lost his footing, eaten by the tsunami. His skin was ripped from his unprotected head. Before Santha lost sight of him, all that was left of him was a skeleton of blood and bones being flung along with the tsunami’s might.

Then ca the monsters.

The blades of grass were ripped from the ground before promptly dying. Active wisps bonded with the now-dead grass, turning them into worms with teeth, flying beetles with stingers, burning fireflies, the most hideous insects Santha had ever seen.

The tsunami tried to eat Santha as well. She glued her feet to the ground with all the ether she had, protecting herself. The violent wisps grazed her skin, drawing blood, trying to steal the staff from her hands. A boulder flew beside her head, in the process of being transford into a golem. It crashed through a tree, cutting it, and continued its path.

Insect monsters were flung along with the tsunami, until clusters of them began hitting Santha as well. She scread, as if a fireball had landed on her stomach.

Sothing tackled her to the ground. Matryn, she realized, protected her with his body. He glued her to the ground with ether, eyes sharp, left hand wrapped around her, runesword on his right.

Insects landed on his back. He scread, unable to swing back.

No! Santha shouted. No, get off of him!

She activated Strength Of Will on his body, her common strength enhancing skill. Then she activated Nature’s Touch, a common healing spell. She spamd them both, repeating them with every bit of ether she had. They weren’t as effective without her staff, but they still found Matryn’s body.

The insects were stronger, filling him with poison. His presence began to wither. Less and less wisps pushed him to the ground, protecting him from the tsunami. His eyes grew red from the poison.

“Love…” he muttered out with his last powers. “You… Sam…”

His coating of ether disappeared, and his skin began disintegrating. His skeleton was stuck to her, still hugging.

Santha scread in utter horror, tears flooding her eyes, wisps and insects grazing her from all directions.

The tsunami’s wisps found Matryn’s body. His skeleton gained an aura; a terrible storm of wisps clouding his bones, that of a boss monster. His runesword glowed red with pure wisps of ether.

He stood just as the tsunami slowed down. Around them, the destruction revealed itself.

Tallward’s soil had been ripped, only levelstone left behind. The grassy ceiling was gone, each blade eaten alive by the tsunami. The sky appeared much higher now, the level like an endless wasteland of nothing but levelstone and a few surviving tree trunks, glowing with an aura of ether.

A teardrop of wisps flowed down Matryn’s skeletal eyes as his runesword pierced Santha’s heart.