Born a Monster

Chapter 224

224 Servant of the Axe – Tournament at Neo Esteban

Chapter Type: Mild Conflicts (Contests), Slice of Life

One would think that having a bum leg would keep one from participating in a tournament’s contests. That perhaps one’s female companions, being the gentler gender, would be compassionate, and not drag one at sprinting paces down every road in Neo Esteban.

“C’mon, slowpoke!” Kismet urged, making a decent attempt at tearing my arm off.

“My fatigue meter is limited to my health.” I reminded her.

“So, whip up some healing magic.” She said.

Tarantula looked impressed. “Can you do that? Heal without the full ritual?”

“Not yet.” I said. “It doesn’t stop her or Madonna from asking that of me.”

Gamilla got to sleep in, why was I needed here? It wasn’t like I had any coin.

I discovered the truth of the matter before lunch of that first day.

.....

A child was crying over her toy, broken by a jealous brother.

Kismet shoved me toward her. I looked at her over my shoulder.

“Madre!” exclaimed Tarantula. “Well, I won’t be trying to twist your neck to kill you.”

“What?” Kismet asked me. “Fix her toy.”

I sighed. “If we can find glue, or perhaps resin.”

“Use magic, you dolt.” Madonna always found the encouraging words.

“Magic doesn’t work that way.” I said. “I’d need to know the spell...”

“Which you should be able to quick-formulate through your system.” Madonna said.

Well... I COULD. I had the points. I started the timer. It wasn’t as though the spell was USELESS... I just wanted to save up for other, more combat-worthy spells.

“I’m sorry.” I said to the parents. “I notice your child’s toy is broken. Might I fix it for her?”

“We don’t have the money for that.” Her father said.

“I cannot guaranty that what I am attempting will work. Besides, it is those two women over there who shall pay.”

And they WOULD pay, every fight between now and when I learned something that helped to balance the fights we would doubtless get into.

“Might I ask, where will you be having lunch?”

“At the main market.” Her mother said.

“If I can fix this, it will be done by lunch.”

“Can you fix him?” the daughter asked.

“I can try. Does the horse have a name?”

“El Boton Del Oro.” She said. “He’s named after the butter-flower.”

“Here. Give me the pieces, I’ll see what I can do for him.”

“Majorante, el Boton del Oro.” She said, kissing the top of his severed head.

“Go.” I told her. “Enjoy the tournament with your family. I’ll do what I can for El Boton Del Oro.”

Once they were gone, I scoured the ground, finding one of two splinters that would otherwise be missing.

“We need to find the stall where this was sold.”

“Giving up already, husband?” Madonna said, “That’s not like you.”

“No.” I said. “We need to find the paints that will match those he was originally painted with.”

Kismet raised a fist triumphantly into the air. “Spy Sisters to the rescue!”

“I still don’t think spies run around telling everyone they’re a spy.” Madonna said, as they took off as though competing in the footrace.

“It is an odd choice.” Tarantula said. “You choose to make a child happy rather than learn something that will help you survive my attacks.”

I put the pieces together as best I could. As I noted, there was a splinter missing.

“Back this way. I thought I saw a half-rotted board in this alley.”

I hadn’t. It was a fully rotted board, useless for my purposes.

“Are you going to answer my question?” she asked.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I must have missed you asking a question.”

“Why risk your life for a child you hardly know?”

“Magic,” I said, “always starts small. If you start with the large and dangerous uses of magic, you’re more likely to die.”

“And how does... THIS help keep you alive?”

“Ask again when I’m able to restore condition points to my damaged shields.”

“Ah, an ulterior motive that I can understand. Thank you.”

We did find a discarded chair, with a splinter just a hair larger than needed to make up the difference.

“Wood, child of trees, nurtured by Water and housed by Earth, hear my plea, and grant my desire. I am Rhishisikk, Shaman, Lumberjack, and Carpenter, Child of the Seas, and Adept of Water. Meld and restore your form, become El Boton Del Oro, one and whole. Mend Wood!”

A cracking noise came from the horse’s neck joint, and for a while I feared the toy would explode in my hand, pelting me with splinters. Then, the fibers of the wood began to weave together. The horse’s neck shortened, and became wider where the pieces were merging.

I watched in wonder, as the protrusion smoothed, becoming a wooden name tag around the horse’s neck, the letters “EBDO” stenciled in miniature.

It was the first time I’d made a baseline magical item with a name. I was tempted to use Dream magic to encourage a dream protector to move in, but it would only have been a temporary residence. Such powers of permanence were... considerably beyond my abilities at the time.

The Spy Sisters were able to report success, and the toymaker could be persuaded to part with some paint.

“Water, cousin to the Ocean, hear my request, grant my plea! I am Rhishisikk, Water Adept and Shaman, child of the Ocean. You know me, and you know I do not command, but ask. Leave this paint, let it be as though dried a day in the Sun. Move Water! Dry Paint!”

I fed the incantation some Sun mana, to help it dry. The horse’s collar was now brown, the letters gold metal.

“This child must be special to you.” The toy vendor said to me.

I shrugged. “She seems special to Kismet,” I said, waving my hand in her direction, “that is enough to warrant this effort.”

By then, it was near lunch-time, so we made our way toward the town’s main square.

“There! In that store!” called Tarantula, swept up in the moment.

And they were in there.

“El Boton Del Oro was very brave.” I said. “I would ask you to please take greater care of him in the future.”

“I will! I will! I swear it.” The little girl said, hands only half extended as though she feared to touch the wooden horse.

I placed it into her hands.

“Mommy, mommy, look! It’s better than when it was new!”

“That is amazing, Ismaelda. Have you thanked the kindly lizard?”

“Thank you, kindly lizard.” Ismaelda planted a kiss on the tip of my nose.

“You can help me, too.” Her glum brother said. “My soldier has lost his arm.”

“We told you not to strike everything with that soldier, Gustavo.” His father said. “He is only tin, not iron, like real soldiers.”

Gustavo swaggered up to me, triumphantly, holding out the broken pieces of his toy.

“I am sorry,” I said, looking down, “tin is not wood, it is metal. This is not something I can do in a day.”

“Useless reptile,” he said, swatting my snout with the soldier, “fix my toy, too!”

“Gustavo!” his mother rebuked him, pulling him away. “We are so sorry for his behavior.”

“Children will be children.” I said, rubbing my face where the soldier had struck.

Gustavo was crying openly, as children of his type will do when thwarted. “You help my sister, but not me? Monster! Someday, when I am older, I will find you and twist off YOUR head!”

“Gustavo!” his mother said.

“These are the words of a child.” His father said. “Do not take them to mind. He does not understand yet, how words can hurt.”

“Of course,” I said, “what kind of monster would I be, to take a child at their word?”

“Borjar, the children and I will be outside.” The mother said. I noticed, though, that she kept her children on other sides of her.

“Senor, you have done my family a kindness. What can I do for you?” Borjar asked.

“Senor, I ask only that you help protect your daughter from your son.”

.....

Something stirred, something not of the world, and thus not visible in it.

“Would you accept a heathen blessing in support of such?”

“I am a poor man, and will take whatever blessings I can.”

“Lord Sobek, I ask of you this favor. When this man needs it, grant him the vision or intuition to protect his family. In my own name, from my own faith, I ask this.”

And something, gnashing its jaws, accepted, riding on the man’s left shoulder where I had touched him. “You are not what I expected.” He said, and then was gone.

“Nor what I have come to expect.” Madonna said. “What has gotten into you?”

“Kismet, it is near lunch-time. Would you find us a table?”

“You have eyes. There is no open table. What’s this about?”

I furtively moved into an alley, opened my fist to reveal...

“Is that the child’s curse?” Madonna asked. “A pity it is so small.”

“Rhishi crushes curses.” Kismet told Tarantula.

I held it high, displaying it to the heavens. “Sobek, gods of vengeance and spite, hear my prayer. Behold this curse, made pure from a child’s heart! Let it grow as his wrath and envy do, or perish should he forsake them and grow into a good man. But, if he continues down this path of arrogance, violence, and spite, I ask this; let him grow into someone who shall meet me in conflict. Let us see if his hatred is enough to end my life, or instead of his! This, o gods, is my prayer, the prayer of Rhishisikk the Shaman.”

[You have cast a Fatebound Curse, allowing your victim more than ample chances to avoid their Fate. One point of Taint has been negated by your sin armor.]

There were other messages, but none that mattered at that moment.

Yes, the letters were in Neonen, not whatever language this record is being translated into. Know that it was the first letter of each word of the horse’s name, and let it be.