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Adventures of Dusty Yote

Chapter 8 - Of Beasts and Sorcery

9383 words

It was well into the afternoon before Dusty was able to head to the guild hall to see Radan. The bull opened the door expectantly for him, but before Dusty could explain himself he was swept up by the bull's rapid talking.

"You have quite a lot of explaining to do, Master Yote. I send you out on a tracking mission hardly two days ago, yet just this morning I've heard two conflicting reports: first that a giant beast is attacking the logging camp, and secondly that said beast is dead by the hands of two Guild-issued Hunters. What in the hell is going on?"

It took the better part of two hours for Dusty to recount the entire situation. The bull sat quietly and let him speak, offering no questions but waiting for some form of explanation. Throughout the conversation the bull went from incredulous, to surprised, to panicked, and finally settled on astounded, his own mouth dropping as Dusty told him of the battle between himself and Kuroga versus the mad snake Zemeya.

"It was finally with a combination of my blessings and Kuroga's spear that the bullsnake was finally defeated," Dusty concluded. "My magic flaked away at his scales, and Kuroga plunged his spear and broke his neck. As proof of the serpent's death, this is his fang, pried from his mouth, which he used to drain the villagers he captured. Bernard is thus safe and will return to the woods, likely bothering the woodsmen even less than he did before, but the true culprit of the magic-draining is finally dealt with."

Radan leaned back and thought about it. He looked over the fang that Dusty had taken, and when he asked for the spot where he had been drained and showed signs of corruption, the coyote acquiesced. After a while, he returned the fang with a small but proud smile.

"I send you to be a tracker. And yet you and Kuroga were able to make short work of the beast, and your corruption is already nearly gone. Hopefully the reign of terror that Riverwood had to endure will be quieted for a while. I do not doubt that there are other such beasts, but at least we can say that one of them is well and truly solved."

"I should hope." Dusty fidgeted in his chair. "Pardon me, sir, and I understand if you cannot answer me fully, but is Kuroga a member of the Hunters' Guild?"

"Yes," Guildmaster Radan said. "At least, that's where he got his start. So far as I know, he came here from further east, and went almost straight to Irilian to become a mercenary. A Guild supervisor caught onto him and he was recruited on the spot. There is little I can say except he sometimes disappears for a while, but returned shortly to continue hunting. And sometimes he does it again, without telling us where he goes. He's one of our best, but not always available when we need him."

Dusty nodded. "Yes. He said something about our interests aligning and he was there to do so anyways. Did he tell you about it at all?"

"Not a word. I had been trying to get in touch with him for some time, but it seems he was heading down here for it all the same. I have no idea what his other exploits might have to do with Guild actions, but so long as he isn't hindering our work, I'm inclined to let sleeping dogs lie, such as they are."

Dusty put the fang necklace on once again. "I apologize. The whole thing baffles me so. It is hard to get him out of my head when there are other questions left unanswered."

"It does for me, too. What you have told me about Bernard, Reeve, and Zemeya makes me inclined to think there is a connection between their abilities that goes further than a mere trend of corruption. There must be some place where it originates from."

"Kuroga may know. But he was inclined to keep it from me as though there was a veil of secrecy around the whole thing. And if he was as hard to contact as you say, then that is a broken lead."

"Still, there may be someone else who has knowledge about it." Radan leaned backwards and stroked his chin in thought for a while. "Master Yote, I have a new task for you. Somewhat under-the-table, as it were, and I would like you to keep it a secret between us if possible. Essentially, I wish to use you as a Tracker once again."

"What for, sir? With Zemeya the bullsnake dead, the last of our major leads has been followed up on. I doubt there would be anything else so soon."

"No. But I think you are correct when you say there maybe something connecting these." Radan leaned forwards and spoke somewhat hushed. "I would like you to go to Bernard and Reeve and ask them where they learned their powers. If possible, trace it back to the source and see if you can understand where the practice originated, what purpose it serves, and what the difference is between those like Bernard and those like Zemeya."

"You may ask me to be going off into the wilderness for a while as Kuroga does."

"You have the abilities. Resistance, determination, and tenacity. And if we can figure out what happened to cause Zemeya to fall that far into corruption, we may make things easier for the whole of the continent, not just Irilian."

"A large task. But I have questions of my own. I should like to follow them through."

"Good enough. That's all I needed to hear. I'm sure the other Hunters will be able to handle smaller miscreants while you're gone. Otherwise, I leave this one into your capable paws to pursue as you see fit. Given your tale, I would recommend waiting a few days to rest and recover and make sure. You've had a habit of getting mixed up with strange magics lately, and quick as your recoveries have been, I rather you keep your wits about you."

---

Dusty kept Guildmaster Radan's advice and remained local for the week. The first stop that the coyote could think of was both local and lay within his own Order. A few days later he went up to the search to see if Deacon Hale was in. The cougar was in his study, and graciously accepted Dusty in and invited him to sit while he pushed aside some books and papers he had been reading over.

The study of Deacon Hale was filled with stern furniture and personal books. The cougar had some mild proficiencies in blessings and so his personal room was filled with books in the study of blessings, prayer books with the full text of some of the larger ones, and general sermon notes. Dusty noted as one who studied holy magic, maybe he would know something of the corruption and if there was anything he could do about it, as well as the strange magics.

"Welcome, my child," Deacon Hale said to Dusty, shaking his hand as they sat in bare-backed wooden chairs. "Blessings of the Creator be upon you. I heard of your defeat of the mad serpent plaguing the logging men the other day. You follow the Order's tenants well in getting rid of these beasts."

"The third one so far," Dusty said. He decided not to say that half of the mission had been to rescue Bernard and that half of his current one would be going to see Reeve. But they weren't harassing people anymore, so it was true. "But since you seemed to know something of it, I wanted to ask you a few questions on something."

The cougar looked him over with warm but curious eyes. He remained silent, but nodded.

"What is the corruption?" Dusty asked. "I've seen it come up now on all three, and the most I can figure out is that I feel an oppressive aura and the subject gets more malicious."

Deacon Hale's eyes closed for a moment and his head bowed. Dusty couldn't tell if he was praying or thinking first. "The simplest explanation I can give is that it belongs to two realms: the spiritual and the physical. When both of those energies are misaligned, corruption falls onto the soul and taints its very essence. The mind becomes clouded, and the cap on one's magical ability is released. It leaks and exerts itself without rest, and without care."

"What happens, exactly? What makes someone go corrupt?"

"As I said, it belongs to two realms." Deacon Hale held out his right paw on the table. "The first is spiritual, and one grows in corruption the more they shed their sense of morality and faith. If you have no tenants or beliefs to guide you, or they fail to consider the goodwill of others, the more likely you are to fall to spiritual corruption. That is why a strong grounding of faith is good, for both those who can and cannot use the holy blessings. That way you do not fall into temptation and find yourself becoming led astray."

"Then what of the physical side?"

Deacon Hale now extended his left paw. "The exorbitant and irrational use of magic may cause one's inner magical forces to become in flux. Wild use of magic instead of restrained usage may cause leaks of magic from the causeway being open for too long. The stronger the flow of a river, the more energy is needed to block it and change or slow its course. So it is the same with magic; the more it is used, the harder it becomes to restrain the flow, and the restraint becomes corruption from the buildup it cannot let out when it wants to."

"I assume that is why the prayers are both so long and why we cannot use them many times before our energies become faint," Dusty commented. "I remember that most of the versions we in the Order use are shortened versions that don't release as much power, designed to call upon the energies without that risk."

"As one uses magic regularly, it does become possible to store more and more magic. Hence why a few uses does not make you as faint anymore. You have built up a certain level of power. But especially when one is training for the Order, we make sure to instill a habit of making sure you do not use it too many times and to gauge when you feel your energy depleting beforehand. You build your magic by using it, but restrain your usage to prevent the energies from leaking out." Deacon Hale now took his hands and folded them together almost in the classic prayer. "And then we pair it with spiritual instruction such that you know when to release it in accordance with the tenants and commandments of the Creator, and thus kept safe from corruption."

"I've seen someone try to shake it off once before. Are you sure it's not possible to cure someone of it?"

Deacon Hale's eyebrow twitched, but his voice remained soft and calm. "It is possible to hold back corruption. I've never seen it possible to cure someone of it, but I have seen it possible to repress it enough to be withdrawn, but never leaving someone. It may be possible to convert someone to better living, to throw aside their vices and to practice meditation in the form of prayer or service, and to help them restrain corruptive influences. But often, if corruption has a deep hold on someone, it becomes like an alcoholic who falls off the wagon: at the first sign they might be able to indulge in those or it becomes acceptable to do so, they will fall down that hole once again, and be beyond saving."

"So what is to be done to prevent the corruption from spreading?"

"To educate the masses. Half of that is help from the schools, who teach the value of hard work and the scientific dangers of such experimentation. And the other, greater half is from the church, to make sure that they are aware of the Creator's benevolent light. The spiritual dangers are often far more devastating than the physical ones, for without it one loses their sense of morality and justice. And so it is up to us to show them the guiding commandments of service to the Creator and how that may help them from straying into it."

Now something struck Dusty. "If the corruption is as much of a physical danger as you say it is - becoming gaunt, feral, damaged, mentally and physically - then why does the Order or the church not try to save those beyond the first stages?"

Now there was no disguising the look of almost confusion on Deacon Hale's face, mixed with another (irritated?) twitch of the eyebrow. "I told you before, we cannot heal corruption. To do so would be beyond the powers of anyone with blessings. I believe, to a certain extent, that the corruption is what it is to give us an object lesson about the dangers of such excesses. That we may look upon them as an example of what happens to those who part from the Creator's blessings. As our Lord Herself says, the path is narrow and those who enter are few. We may only follow Her commands the best we can and hope that our own corruption isn't enough to taint ourselves at the last."

Dusty sensed he would be getting into dangerous territory, but he had to ask one more question. "Are there any other magics out there besides our blessings?"

At this, the cougar's face grew dark and his brow furrowed. "There are. I will not speak of them here, but I will give a warning: any use of these magics will cause the corruption to grow. Only the holy blessings are safe to use, and even then only with restraint and in moderation. For with blessings one is pure and must simply maintain the right path. But any other magic may cause one to dip into corruptive influences in time, and there is no way for them to keep the faith if they should use them."

Dusty suddenly felt like he was back in school again. The teacher reading out the rules at the beginning of the year. The constant drilling into his head of what was wrong to do in the classroom and very little explaining what was okay. There was something oddly stifling about it, and it took him a few years for the teachers to actually start praising him for his work and his dedication. He now felt the same here, sitting across from the Deacon, wondering if he wasn't about to launch into another sermon about the evils of distraction.

And yet the cougar's face softened and that went away. A passing cloud, and nothing more. "Did you have any other questions for me, my child?"

Dusty was suddenly aware that the room had gone quiet for a time and the cougar was looking at him expectantly. "No, sir, I think I have all I need for the moment. I asked not because I have strayed from my purpose, but because this is all somewhat new to me still, and I must prepare for what lies ahead."

"Your mind is sharp and your faith is strong," Deacon Hale said with a small smile. "Keep to that faith as you have done already and you shall do splendidly."

They shook hands again and Dusty took his leave. He gathered he had learned a lot from Deacon Hale, but wanted another perspective on things. One that wasn't so stifling about the limits and futility of trying to fight off this strange malady.

---

A few days later, Dusty met up with Brother Thomas in the library of the Order headquarters in Riverwood. On most days, Brother Thomas worked as a librarian, making sure the shelves were organized and helping people find books or scrolls they needed. Only on Saturdays was he not to be found, for then he would help clean and prepare the church for Sunday, only to return to the library as soon as service was over. Dusty figured there were few else in the church he could talk to as openly and could get answers as easily as the mouse.

Having laid low since his defeat of Zemeya, the little mouse was happy to see Dusty and hugged him as soon as he saw him. "I hear the hunting is going well," Brother Thomas said. But he remained as calm as he would allow and waited for Dusty to have his say.

"I have finally taken out a true beast," Dusty replied. "And I must say, I think your magic spell was quite valuable in helping another see the error of his ways. More than once has your gift paid itself back."

"Good, good!" the mouse clapped. "But what brings you here today? You have a stern demeanor in your face that suggests you are on a mission."

"I am on one, but I am merely in the preparatory stages of it. You know this library almost better than anyone here. I need help looking for things on magic and magic draining... but magic aside from blessings."

Brother Thomas thought about it. "A bit of a specialty subject, but one I would think the Hunters' Guild would have more information on. Why do you seek the Order's knowledge?"

"The Guild has knowledge of beasts with it because a Tracker finds them based on patterns of evidence. But the Guildmaster here has sent me not to find a beast, but the origins of their magics."

The mouse gaped. "A steep task indeed! But I shall help you on this however I can. Now, I know most of the tomes that contain magic-draining as a threat and information on magic, and they are open to members of the Order as considered matters of 'self-defense'. But there may be more information forthcoming, depending on the others missions right now."

They went through the library and Brother Thomas picked out all the books on magic that he knew of, as well as a few on magic draining. The two went to one of the private study rooms and ready much over the course of two whole afternoons. Both also took copious notes on the texts they read and tried to piece together some form of comprehensive shorthand for it. The results of their survey amounted to this:

Magic in many ways was synonymous with the lifeblood of every living thing. But those who were born with more than the simple amount needed to survive could become mages, drawing from their extra vitality in order to cast blessings. Mages also had a close connection with magic in other things, often able to sense health, vitality, disease, and sometimes even the extent of life force of other beings.

Mages could then develop synergy with magic, drawing magic out of other things to power their own. This was what led to the practice of magic-draining. Considered forbidden because of magic's ties to a person's life, the draining process was hardly used anywhere in the kingdoms either by law or by tacit agreement. Even foreign nations agreed that it was a problem if one became sick or died because a mage had stolen their magic. And so many who were able to use the practice were either subject to execution or became exiled.

But magic-draining had a very unfortunate side-effect. Whoever did it was tainted with corrupted energies. While the practice resembled magic and had many of the same portions and techniques involved, it wreaked havoc with mind and body. Furthermore, there were other branches of magic out there, but they were so different from the blessings and their own energies were similar to the corrupted energy of magic-draining. Irilian, making sure they could not be tainted by this, outlawed most magic except the blessings of the church, found to be different enough that very few were tainted with corruption.

This was compounded with the fact that corrupted individuals sometimes had their magic changed. Dark auras or sickly golden hues became visible in things that should not produce it. And the attempt at blessings became almost impossible. Thus it was assumed that the magic of blessings was unable to be used by corrupted individuals, and thus most members of the church were safe.

"Well," Dusty said upon conclusion of the second afternoon's reading. "I have learned much and yet nothing at all. Obviously, much of this is covered within the mission statement of the Hunters' Guild itself. And while the rest is in-line with what I've heard conventionally regarding the Order or even the kingdom's own history, there is nothing about how it started."

"The church is a keeper of great knowledge," Brother Thomas said. "I do believe it's not our information that is lacking but that of Riverwood's library. I might suggest heading to the main monastery just outside of Irilian capital and checking their library for more information, but that itself is three days' journey from us. Also, one normally needs to have a note of permission from one of the local rectors, given by the home Deacon."

"Between you and me, I have little faith that Deacon Hale would grant such permission."

For once, Brother Thomas seemed stumped. "He does seem... a bit more focused on matters close to home," he agreed. "He cares for his flock, but aside from occasionally needing to make a trip to the monastery by decree, he doesn't seem to care much about outside goings-on."

Dusty folded his hands together and placed them on the table.

"You are thinking very hard about something," Brother Thomas said.

"There is one who I might be able to ask," Dusty said. "They are the one I used the magic on to change their ways. As such we have a living subject I could ask. But I don't know if I should go back to them. If it brings up harsh memories, I do not wish to trouble them."

"If nothing else, ask them as a favor," Brother Thomas suggested. "See if there is anything you can do to help them, so long as it is within your status in the Order."

"I am less afraid of being in debt than I am that they might not have as many scruples as to the merits of the favor," Dusty said. "It was used out of revenge, and I do not have any idea if they still hold a grudge against their being wrongfully accused."

Brother Thomas thought about this for a moment. Then suddenly he snapped his fingers and started. "Wait, there might be another who would know about such things! I had a friend who used to come to our congregation who went to the northern kingdoms for historical research. He's since accomplished this mission and settled himself on the north side of Whitewater, in the woods."

"But what does this have to do with our quandary?"

"The particular reason he went up north was to look at the origin of blessings. How did one convert from prayer to holy power in the first place? Apparently, there are some bits of the Order up north that still exist and some fairly large libraries that would have had more information on the practice. While his field is relatively new, he last wrote he was working on condensing his notes as to write a book on the subject. He might have a lead or two."

Dusty sighed. "I suppose I might have no other choice if I don't want to deal with a moral quandary. Tell me more about your old friend."

"He is a hare named Conrad. While I have yet to visit him recently, as my own duties within the church or to my family keep me here, we do write frequently to each other still. He is taking a bit of time to write and compile notes, but may even be venturing off elsewhere towards what is viewed as holy land in the kingdom of Ushtani."

Dusty frowned again. "Then I must put my own inclinations aside and pay a visit before he removes himself. I shall go to Whitewater in a few days." He smiled at Brother Thomas. "Thank you for everything."

"Something tells me you are caught up in something quite large. Yet despite my own hesitations, the Creator keeps telling me 'go forth'. So then let me say it to you: go forth, Master Yote, for I feel the Creator has blessed your journey."

---

Despite his misgivings, Dusty soon realized a visit to Whitewater wouldn't be a terrible idea even with another lead. If Guildmaster Radan was giving him leave to pursue it however he wanted, it was a good plan to go and confirm some information he'd been given earlier. And so, after mild deliberation, he packed a small bag and set out for the road east.

Whitewater was not very far from Riverwood. Less than a third of a day's travel, it was the closest distance between two cities within Irilian. Riverwood had originally been meant as the travel stopping point on the way to the capital from the east, but when the township started growing, most of the more well-to-do members headed east to the river and found a new village. While there were some common folk around, Whitewater became known as the escape for Riverwood businessmen and tradesmen; often those who owned shops or buildings in Riverwood used the money to buy or build themselves a house in Whitewater.

Of course, the town did have its own services. It had its own farming communities, trading center, taverns, and a reserved section for the church and its own smaller Order brigade headquarters. Many of them still functioned as higher-ups for the larger city of Riverwood, but for the most part served their own local community needs first.

Dusty thought about this as he traveled eastward. It was made all the more prominent by the feeling of eyes watching him as he traveled through the grassy hills and fields. But while the eyes watched him for a little, he soon felt them leave him, as though they were either deliberately ignoring him or had deigned to give him safe passage. Less than a mile from the feeling's appearance, the last strains completely left him with neither sight nor sound of his watchers. This was not surprising and he knew where they came from, though he still didn't want to call just yet.

As soon as he stepped into Whitewater, Dusty could see he was very much someplace nicer than Riverwood. The roads were better and completely paved compared to the occasional dirt path, houses were made out of smoother-cut stone and more polished wood. More places had adornments or signs declaring who owned which place, and there were more people dressed in finery or with jewelry or trinkets. Moreover, instead of most houses laying just on the street, many had gated compounds or patios or verandas that separated them, and were placed much wider apart than Riverwood's more densely-compacted cabins and huts and cottages.

Now he felt eyes watching him for a different reason. And often they did not stop until he passed some corner out of their line of sight. Thanks to the black-and-gold outfit of the Order and his own well-kept longsword and shield, no one said anything and he never felt accused. But from the direction he'd come from alone, he knew he was an outsider who had dared step into someplace he shouldn't have been. And unlike many other places, the proving ground wasn't through the sword or the staff or the spear, but the bag and coin.

Nevertheless, he found relief at one of the local taverns, the Wild Water Inn. Much more simple and south of the more pristine areas of town, here Dusty felt more at home among the common people. Traditional day-laborers and farmers from the southern edge ate and drank here, and the place was warm and inviting compared to the colder and reserved streets. He purchased a room for the use of the day and the night with an evening and morning meal, and the inkeeper was gracious and thanked him profusely for his stay.

He dropped off his pack in his room and went strolling about the town. Already he felt greater sympathy for his quarry as the looks continued. Whenever he stopped to ask for directions to some place or another, he saw the eyes look him up and down before answering. Like they had to make sure he was from the Order first before they gave him respect and not his place in society. Growing up without much to give you a start in Whitewater likely doomed you to either move or stay low, and the residents of the more spacious areas weren't all that inclined to let you try and move up.

He looked for two places in particular. His first stop had been to see if there was a local establishment of the Hunters' Guild. He eventually found the place but not via anyone in town (who seemed to ignore or feign ignorance as to its location). Rather he more stumbled across a tiny house that had the Guild's sigil on a sign out front. He asked the Guildmaster here, a stoat, what it was like for the Hunters here.

Not great, as a matter of fact. Unlike most other Whitewater establishments, the stoat was less an independent Guildmaster than he was a representative of the Riverwood guild. He took in complaints from the locals and had one or two Trackers in the region, but otherwise most of his information or targets were sent to Radan to have him deal with them. And that was even if they were a beast, at all; ninety percent of the complaints he got were more affluent members wanting a conviction and the guards were moving too slow... and then got mad at him because they may have been petty thieves at most and not his jurisdiction.

The stoat noted that the people of Whitewater, for the most part, seemed to more tolerate the Guild as it might have protected one or two of their lifestyles. But the Guild's actions were meaner and less dignified than many would have liked and tolerating seemed to be about as far as it would go. Riverwood's guild offices thus served Whitewater by proxy, and it was only through an apparent law from the King that Whitewater even had this shred of a Guild at all.

"So how many beasts do you deal with?" Dusty asked.

"Quite a lot, really. If we actually had the numbers I'd estimate we do, we might have a larger retinue than Riverwood and have two or three quests going every month. But they don't go to the Guild. Most have their own private guards take care of it, or else contact the town guard or mercenaries. They live big here, with some being taken into private service at some point. But we maybe only get reports of something actually worth pursuing once every two or three months, and even then the likely case is the mercenaries got nowhere and we're the last resort. Then I send my Trackers to do their work and send the information to you."

Dusty thanked the stoat for his time and left.

The other avenue of interest proved more than viable to make up for the inadequacies of the Guild. The Whitewater town guard seemed to hold a particular reverence for the Order and they quickly directed him as accurately as possible to one of their headquarters. He eventually found his way to the main building in a particularly nice section of town and got inside with little difficulty.

When asked what his purpose was, he stated he was there on the orders of the Riverwood town guard to look into any information on Reeve Thomas. The guards took him to their storage room and pulled out a few files they had on the rat. Their only stipulation was that the files couldn't leave the room, but he was allowed to peruse for as long as he wanted.

The information that Guildmaster Radan had given him earlier seemed to be a small piece of a larger scale. Even before his time in exile, Reeve had gained notoriety among the villagers. Born the son of a farmer and an artisan's apprentice, the rat had already fallen to the "mean" side of village perception quite early. He wasn't a slacker and did well in the school ran by the Order, but he frequently picked fights. He did try some honest work and may have made a good leather-worker, but he ran around after-hours with a gang that did some stealing and some aggravated assault. The rat quickly made himself a delinquent among the villagers, and he frequently ran into trouble with the town guard.

Dusty noticed something about the reports done by the town guard. Aside from Guildmaster Radan's note that many of the targets seemed to be of mean disposition already, many of the incidents described were mostly done second-hand. Often the actual victim of Reeve's theft or assault only came out and spoke about it once someone else had gone to the guard to report it. This is likely what spurred on the final bit of information at the end of the file: the note that Reeve was to be pardoned for his previous incidents. And even that was skewed against the rat, as he was to be publicly pardoned at the church and to do penance for his current "lashing out". In other words, even the idea that Whitewater might forgive him had conditions placed on it. No wonder the rat never tried; even the supposed chances he was given were somehow turned against his favor.

Unfortunately, the gap of his exile remained. Essentially, once he left, it seemed like Whitewater went "good riddance" and let him go. They didn't care that he went, they were just happy he was gone. The only reason they took interest in him came once he started his capture and draining of merchants and thieves en-route to Riverwood. Which also seemed to be the rare time they also took any interest in Riverwood at all.

Dusty left the town guard's offices and headed back to the Wild Water Inn. He took his evening meal early and was treated to a bowl of hearty chicken pot pie, a salad with fresh forest berries, and a tankard of ale. Dusty ate and drank and considered his options. He was still inclined to go see Conrad, but all his information seemed to point him in the direction of going back to one Master Reeve Thomas.

Dusty made up his mind. He would see Conrad first, and if the hare didn't work out, he would stop beating around the bush and take up Reeve's invitation.

---

The next morning Dusty woke up rather early feeling rested enough. The lingering feelings of being unwanted had mostly left during his stay at the inn but he decided not to stay in Whitewater for too long. He waited until the tavern below opened for breakfast and had eggs, sausage, roasted potatoes, and some bread. He paid an extra-tip to the tavern-master, then got his things together and left as soon as he could possibly manage.

Using directions provided by Brother Thomas from one of his letters, Dusty made his way up north following the path by the river. The town was sloped against one of the hills, at the top of which stood the main chapel. Dusty noted the more affluent residences seemed to preside on the hill, as well, with these even standing out from the main town by affording paints in exotic colors - vibrant purples, deep blues, vivid reds - and various statues and engravings.

Passing the chapel, the road quickly went from paved to dirt as it exited the northern end of Whitewater away from the river. It looked like an old hunting trail, but there were signs that the path was still occasionally used.

After rounding a bend and disappearing into a copse of trees, the feeling of unwanted gazes finally left him. The road went down into a small vale where the river broke into a larger branch heading south and a smaller stream heading southwest, almost towards Riverwood. Dusty crossed the stream when the water was light enough and continued until he saw a small cairn. At the cairn, he then turned away from the river and headed west, seeming to head towards a divot between two of the larger hills.

It was not very far, but away from the river it became a very vigorous walk. The trail was often stony and in places barely visible, and it was only by keeping to a general direction that Dusty was able to find it again. While Whitewater was perhaps only a couple of miles away, he sensed that the hare perhaps only came in the barest of circumstances if he couldn't get something in the wilds.

As Dusty approached the divot he had been directed towards, he could see a little cottage. It was perhaps a little rougher than Bernard's but of similar construction, wide and low and long with a separate room and a stone chimney. A small garden sat outside composed of various vegetables and a few berry bushes. Dusty walked down the center and up to the door and was about to knock when he saw a note:

"Out foraging. Head around back and continue east to the clearing and I'll meet you soon! -CH."

An odd note, but implied the owner was expecting someone. Dusty guessed the "C" stood for Conrad and had no other choice but to take the hare as the writer. He carefully maneuvered through the gardens and around to the hack of the house, where another well-worn trail headed off to another copse of trees.

It was not far until Dusty found the opening in the trees and came to a clearing. It must have been the hare's clearing, for there were a few bags of plain but sturdy burlap cloth placed under one of the trees. Without opening the bags, Dusty leaned over and smelled them. From them came a mixture of aloe, ginger, dandelions, wild mushrooms, and a few other scents he couldn't quite recognize. Perhaps done to augment the vegetables and seeds he could get from town, and perhaps he sold or traded others as needed.

He didn't have to wait too long. Dusty had gone over to one of the other trees to wait when a rather large hare entered the clearing. He had mostly silver fur with flecks of brown and white, black-tipped ears and paws, and a cream-colored chest. He had very long ears, feet that might have been a size or two big for his specie, and rather puffy fur that made him look fatter and less muscular than he might have been.

He carried with him two burlap sacks, and while he noticed Dusty right away he said "Just a minute!" before attending to his two sacks. He set them with the pile and made a quick look through the sacks, shuffled them around a bit, then hopped back up to look at Dusty. He wore a dark purple vest and pants, which left his chest exposed, and Dusty noticed a rather strange pin at his chest; it looked like the Guild symbol but there was a swirl inside the top of the stave.

"Hmm," the hare remarked as he inspected the coyote. "You're not Thomas, but you wear the same black and gold of the Order. Do you happen to know a Brother Thomas, by any chance?"

Dusty had been staring at the sigil on the hare's chest and was startled when he finally spoke. When he'd recovered, he set his sword and shield down by a tree, not wanting to scare off the hare, and bowed slightly. "My name is Dusty Yote, and yes, I come from the same chapel as Brother Thomas. He is a close friend of mine and has been for a few years since I joined the Order. I assume you must be Conrad?"

"Conrad Harrison, at your service." The hare bowed rather prettily before raising himself up and bouncing over to meet Dusty. He grabbed one of his paws and shook semi-vigorously; Dusty was surprised with how soft the hare's paws felt. "It is good that you came! I've been wondering when Thomas would come, but you are friends with him, I am willing to open what I have to you." He backed off slightly. "What news of Thomas?"

"He is well," Dusty said. "I do not know how long you've known him, but he lives well within the chapel grounds and functions as a caretaker for the Riverwood church. He also is a proficient librarian, and uses those talents well for his living."

"Good, good!" Conrad bounced a little away and clapped a few times. It redirected Dusty's attention to his chest, realizing that it was exposed, and the coyote suddenly felt himself go flush on noticing his attention stray. "I've heard bits and pieces through his letters, but one doesn't get the full story from the written word, you know. But is there a reason he couldn't come? Are you a messenger or are you here by his direction?"

"Brother Thomas is quite... well-absorbed in the upkeep of his church," Dusty said. "He regrets not coming, but he is very difficult to tear away from his duties. But I am not here as a messenger nor by his direction, exactly. I've come because, even with his studies as part of our Order's upkeep, there are questions about things I've experienced recently that he was unable to comprehend. But he said you, as something of a historian, might, and so I came."

"Well, I appreciate the honor," Conrad said, brushing a little dirt off his shoulder. "I can't exactly call myself an 'expert' in anything as yet, but if Thomas trusts me with it, then I'm willing to help. What is it you wanted to know about?"

Dusty, trying not to pay much attention to the hare's somewhat exposing clothing, took a moment to formulate his words. "There's been a strain of new magic in Irilian recently that has been cropping up. It seems to also be tied to increasing instances of corruption. I wanted to know more about and see if you knew anything."

"Oh, that's an easy one," Conrad said with a slight wave of his hand. "Yeah, I went up north and found this really neat place. Turns out I could even use some of them! It's really simple stuff, but hang on a minute..."

It took less than that. Conrad bounced over to his burlap sacks and pulled something from behind them that Dusty hadn't seen before: a somewhat long beechwood stave with a sort of rounded metal tip, almost but not quite peach-colored. It didn't take long before the hare had bounded back over to the center of the clearing, twirled the stave around a few times, then set it right between his legs and heaved it up slightly with a grunt. The tip glowed a bluish-white before a small blue-white orb of energy launched out, arced across the clearing, and landed on the tree, splintering one of the branches and leaving a small, white, scorch-like mark on the bark.

"What I've been studying is called 'evocation', and its one of the oldest types available. It's literally just summoning magical energies out and using them to target opponents or repel for self-defense. That one was the standard type and is called an 'emission'."

Dusty's eyes widened and he clamped his own mouth shut before any more words could come out. He was mortified.

"Emissions are one of the easier types of magic, though," Conrad continued. "Almost anyone can pull out some of their energy and throw it at something. But, a few hundred years ago, someone got it in their head that staves or something would be easier for us to channel and would make them stronger. Staves were also useful because it allowed people to target it, but they started using other methods about a hundred years later. It's almost like taking a pipe and covering the end a bit so the water gushes out faster."

"I... I see..." Dusty said.

"There's other types, too," Conrad said. "Watch this one!"

This time the stave went up and down three times in rapid succession. Each was paired with a slight moan, and each time a smaller blue orb came out. But they traveled faster and farther, and soon the tree was coated in little white marks. Conrad stuck his stave in the ground in front of him looking very proud indeed.

Dusty felt sick.

"That was a 'rapid emission'," Conrad continued, without noticing Dusty doubled-over with his hands on his knees; the coyote was almost panting and very confused. "It's smaller bursts but it allows you to use the same amount of energy to release more magical power, since the combined effect is more potent than just one. There's another called the 'targeted emission'; watch as I blow this one..."

As the hare continued talking, Dusty felt his body begin to tremble. First slowly, then gaining and gaining in vigor until he had to drop to his knees because he couldn't stand anymore. The hare stopped talking and dropped his stave, coming over to Dusty and putting his hands on his shoulders and trying to coax him or something, but Dusty heard none of it. His whole body felt like it was buzzing with magic, pushing and trying to get out, and felt like it was going to explode.

---

And explode it did.

A golden light poured out from Dusty's chest and blinded him, only for him to suddenly be thrown backwards with a muffled ka-boom. His feet left the ground and he wondered what happened as he flew off to only Creator knew where. The light cleared and he shortly hit the ground with a thud between two trees, with Conrad groaning from somewhere nearby.

With renewed vigor, Dusty hopped up to see what had happened. Conrad was laying by his burlap sacks, the contents spilled all over the place, but he didn't look all that injured. Dusty ran over and immediately pulled him up and away from the tree to inspect the damage. Thankfully he saw nothing; the hare's fur might have cushioned his blow, and though he could feel the beginnings of a bump on the back of the head, the hare was already trying to regain consciousness.

"Conrad!" Dusty barked as he gently supported the head of the bleary-eyed hare. "Conrad! Are you okay?"

The hare groaned for a moment or two. He shook his head around before Dusty saw his eyes refocusing themselves in the coyote's direction. "What happened?"

"I am so sorry!" Dusty said. "I just... I was thinking about you performing your magic and how weird it looked and how eager you were to show it off. Suddenly I could feel my magic welling up and something just... erupted."

It took a moment for Conrad to realize what he was saying. "...oh, so that's why you were looking at it like that! I'm sorry; I wasn't paying much attention either. But why? You seemed eager but embarrassed to ask about it and you did seem kind of interested in it."

"Look, I really am sorry about the explosion and didn't mean it. But you have to understand this is the fifth time I've been..." Dusty couldn't tell if he was struggling to say the words or he didn't want to admit it. He sighed and restarted his train of thought. "I've had to deal with four people lately who have weird magic that also seems to have affected my mind or... pokes at some primal thing in me. Once by a skunk, once by a rat, twice by a massive fuck-off bullsnake, and now with you for the fifth time and it's driving me insane!"

Conrad chuckled with a sheepish grin, big ears flopped down to his sides. "Ah, so you knew exactly what to expect."

"NOT LIKE THAT," Dusty roared. He sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just... I've been encountering all these supposed 'beasts' who wield this strange magic and are supposed to be these corruptive influences. And that's supposed to be bad, right? Those who get corrupted turn into these mindless husks that are mad with power. But the only time I've really felt it was bad was because it felt like someone was forcing it on me, and even then there were times I felt like I almost wanted to experience what was happening!"

Conrad sat back against the tree looking mostly surprised at the rant that came out of the coyote's mouth. But as soon as he realized where the coyote was going, he also hopped right up with a knowing smile. "I think I know what you're here to ask me about. Unfortunately, I really couldn't tell you much about it all. See, there's a bunch of different facets that go into emotive sorcery, half dependent on the caster's feelings and motivations. I've learned a lot from studying, but I was actually about to head out on a tour to go see masters on the subject in other kingdoms and learn from them."

"Look, I don't need to know the facets of... what did you call it again?"

"Emotive sorcery," Conrad repeated proudly. "The ability to take feelings and preferences and desires and turn them into magical energy. You see, magical ability isn't just a one-way street. Sometimes people like what other people are doing because it speaks to them, and so magic's effectiveness is enhanced. It also means that sometimes, if you don't like what someone is doing, its easier to repel the effects because you don't want it to happen."

Despite not needing to know the facets of it, Dusty was also not going to shut the hare up when he was giving potentially valuable information. It was only when the hare got quiet again that he spoke.

"I mean, that is good information, but not quite what I needed. What I'm having trouble with is figuring out how it's tied to corruption and needing to find a source. You speak of it as though it's a whole branch of study, however, and that there's more than just a few isolated cases."

"Oh, it is!" Conrad said. "It actually takes years of study so you can know how to perform it effectively and - most important of all - safely. I wanted to learn the history of it because it used to be so maligned, but it turns out safe practice is one of the easiest ways of avoiding corruption to begin with if you already have large magical reserves."

"...you what."

"Corruption is terrible, as it amplifies powers and often overrides the two-way street in favor of forcing magic on someone who doesn't like it," Conrad continued, almost ignoring Dusty's flabbergasted looks. "It's why ethics of magical rites and usage are a major factor in course studies. In fact, there's actually a ton of ethical stuff you can do with it."

Dusty now felt embarrassed again. "Um... so what were you going to do?"

"Really, displaying a few of my known spells is also a way of keeping me healthy. I was just showing you some of the stuff I'd learned as well as keeping my own energies in check." The hare turned sheepish again. "I can kind of understand if you don't like the rather forward nature of it, though. I was warned it doesn't exactly go with the norms, so to speak."

Dusty now felt less embarrassed. "That's a little more than I expected, really. But you don't have to apologize. Here, let me help you gather your stuff, at least to make up for the... magical explosion."

"No need for you to apologize, either. Really. Matter of fact, you're the first one of the Order since Thomas who hasn't given me a weird side-eye about the whole thing."

It didn't take long; the bags were less scattered than Dusty thought. Dusty made sure there weren't any holes or tears in any of the bags while Conrad gathered up the few pieces that had fallen out. The bags were soon cleaned up and the hare and the coyote were standing in the shade of the trees.

"If you don't mind me asking," Dusty continued, "where did you learn it? I still need to get a better look at it. I've found someone who was corrupted and even someone who is more an expert in my Guild says that it might be related to the magic-draining and beasts."

"Oh, it's quite simple," Conrad said. "It's actually up in the northern kingdom of Domasis, over the mountains. There's something of a school for it up there, and even if you're not interested in attending, most of the more prevalent masters are up there. It's one of the few that openly tolerates it. But the thing is, they don't like members of the Order all that much."

"Why not?" Dusty asked. "What has the Order done to receive all this hate?"

"Pardon me for this is not my thought, but they tend to think of what happens and what is learned up there as a bunch of heretics who do not follow the light or intentions of the Creator. Not exactly a 'burn in hell' mentality or speeches about it but very much implied." Conrad's grin became apologetic again. "Again, not my thought. I have many friends in the Order and the church besides you and Thomas, just not many I would admit this all to."

"The Order has done quite a lot for me and quite a bit of good. I cannot separate myself from it so easily. But how am I supposed to get up into Domasis to search for it, then?"

"You should be able to find someone who could vouch for you. Most members of the Order who are able to go up there usually can with the recommendation and assistance of someone who has already been into Domasis or has learned the techniques." Conrad thought about it. "In fact, I would go down into the fields northeast of Riverwood and look for someone named Reeve who lives out that way. I ended up traveling with him last time because he was interested in sorcery and went to go test his own mettle."

Upon hearing the name, Dusty grimaced. "I... am somewhat acquainted with Reeve already."

"You are? In a good way or a bad way?"

Dusty had to legitimately think for a bit on how to respond to that. "I think it's good. He... I helped to somewhat salvage his reputation through obscure means."

"A good enough reason as any. At least you should pay Reeve the visit and see either if he could get you into Domasis or knows someone else who could."

Dusty sighed. "It is the last place I wanted to go to," he said to himself, "but I suppose I have no other choice." He straightened himself out and collected his gear. "Master Conrad, I thank you for both your time and your information. I should be going for my own matter is urgent, but I wish you luck on your training."

"Don't be afraid to stop by, Yote!" Conrad said. "Now that you know I only want to de-stress and rest for a bit, maybe you'll experience the full thing sometime!"

Dusty smiled and waved at Conrad, then he started the walk back towards Whitewater.