Taming Destiny - a Tamer Class isekai/portal survival fantasy.

The next morning dawns bright and early. I see the sun rise because I was woken up by Marty and Sirocco returning. Marty isn’t too badly off – I get the sense that her kind is probably at least partially nocturnal – but poor Sirocco seems to be almost falling asleep on her feet. Well, wings.

I decided that it would be too much risk to ask them to stick around the village when it started getting light. And ultimately, the reason I left them around was just to make sure that the samurans didn’t start amassing a hunting party without us knowing. They will be passing on the baton of information gathering to Joy when the Pathwalkers convene later.

From what the two related, the village was mostly quiet after we left. They did send me some images of what looked like Pathwalkers and Warriors meeting together and separately – the discussions which we were expecting them to have, no doubt.

I was worried that they might have been discovered, but they don’t think that they were. At least, there was no sort of outcry about their presence. If they had been….

Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to leave them behind. I was too tired to properly consider it at the time, but thinking back to it, and considering the consequences of having made a deal to leave with all my Bound and then having been discovered not to have done so makes my stomach swoop a little.

Well, nothing to do about it now.

The rest of the group are rousing now that dawn’s first light is peeking through the trees. The rays of light are slowly turning the murk of the mist that wreathes the bases of the trees into what looks like plumes of breath on a cold morning. There’s a chill in the air which heralds the coming winter, making me glad for my spider-silk undergarments. I’m pretty sure it rained during the night too: the ground is too damp for it to just have been mist. Fortunately, being under shelter, I wasn’t woken by it if it did rain.

Pulling on my armour, I head out to the fire circle that I lit last night. By this point, it’s long cold, but between restocking it with fuel and magic, it’s soon burning merrily. Aingeal, the fire elemental, happily goes to dance in the flames, becoming indistinguishable from the rest of the fire. I might think that it had completely disappeared, except that I can still sense it, an external flicker of innocent joy and freedom.

Pulling out some more carcasses, my Bound gather around, eagerly digging in. Looking around the clearing, I note with relief that Trinity and Spine both made it – their large forms are rather hard to miss. I hadn’t liked leaving them behind, but in light of what would have happened if I’d been a couple of seconds later in arriving in the village, I can’t regret it. Especially not since they’ve apparently made it back to us unscathed.

Almost unscathed, I amend my thought, noting the small marks on Trinity’s shoulder, and the broken spike on Spine’s tail. Walking over there, I take a moment to check in with them, healing the injuries.

It appears that they encountered a group of beasts, but that their defences were more than up to the task of keeping them safe. I didn’t recognise the creatures in the memories they sent – not that that’s surprising. After all, I’ve only been in this world a couple of months. I’m just glad that they made it through fine.

Heading back to the fire afterwards, I take some time to eat some of my pre-prepared food and drink some of my previously boiled water. I make a mental note to take a trip to the river bend that’s closest to the village – I’ve got enough for now, but my Bound will also need hydration.

Those thoughts flee my mind when a figure stops in front of me.

“How do I know you mean well for my village?” Grubs-in-the-dirt, the village’s herbalist, confronts me. “How do I know that by following your different way of approaching things, we will survive?”

Her spikes are rippling with almost a rainbow of colours. It seems she’s rather conflicted, and I abruptly wonder just how much actual sleep she got last night. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was less than me.

“You don’t,” I tell her, concentrating on being understood. Evidently, that’s not the answer she was expecting, if her spikes are to judge by. What, was she expecting me to have some sort of blithe answer which would wipe away all her doubts? I wish I did. “But what you have right now clearly isn’t working, so what do you have to lose?”

“It is working,” she argues, her jaws set mulishly. “We have survived for untold generations like this.”

“But how many more generations will your village survive if you start sacrificing hatchlings and Unevolved adults for power?” I ask pointedly. The herbalist clicks loudly in frustration.

“I did not agree with my sister in that decision, I’ve told you that already. Yet I accepted it because she had good reasons. It was only for the current situation which, prior to the burning of the Forest of Death, was dire. It wouldn’t have been something that continued.”

“Are you sure about that?” I ask, my tone dark. “The pursuit of power is a slippery slope. My people have many histories of people who started searching for power for good reasons, and ended up committing atrocities. How long would it have been until your shaman had started saying that sacrificing the next generation of hatchlings would have been necessary to give her the power to deal with a smaller threat than that of the Forest of Death? And then how long until it was justifiable to just give her the power? That’s the problem with a ‘might is right’ philosophy: if the shaman has the power, then whatever she says is right.”

I’m aware as I speak of the certain amount of hypocrisy in my words. After all, what am I doing here but seeking power over the lizard-folk to ‘help’ them? And I’m willing to resort to using strength in combat to ensure that I succeed. My intentions are good, but in practicality, I need to seriously consider if my actions are any better than the shaman’s, both now and in the future. It will be a difficult balance to reach, I think.

The herbalist opens her mouth, but the words she wishes to speak are lost as both of us instinctively look off to the side at the sound of a commotion. I don’t know whether it’s the movement or the flickering light. It could even be the change in the air: the Energy almost becomes static. Though it doesn’t make my hair stand on end, it feels like it should. I don’t remember that happening last time, but perhaps my senses were not so good then.

Either way, my attention is drawn to a spot off to the side of the clearing: the spot where, until a short time ago, River was sitting. Perhaps he still is, but I am unable to see: he is obscured from sight in a way that I’ve only seen once before.

A large ball of bright yellow Energy has formed around the space where, only a few short moments ago, River – Runs-with-the-river – sat with the much-reduced Core from the danaris between his claws. Still my Bound or not, he earned that Core, so I saw no reason to keep it from him when he came to me asking for it.

“He’s evolving,” both the Pathwalker and I breathe at the same time. We exchange glances, everything else forgotten in the excitement of the moment.

At our words, quiet clicks and grunts ring out among the other samurans, Warriors and Unevolved alike. The latter seem the most excited – as well they should be: one of their number is well on his way to reaching another tier. It is a sign that they, too, might be capable of doing the same, someday.

One by one, all of my Bound, along with the herbalist, make a circle around Runs-with-the-river. I join them too, though glance around a little warily – if all of us are watching the Evolution, who’s watching our backs?

Fortunately, I’m not alone in being concerned – Bastet is alert and on the lookout, as are Lee, Catch, and Murmur. Reassured, I focus back on the Evolution taking place in front of me. The cloud of Energy concealing the person who I thought was my friend when he was my Bound, but now feel completely uncertain about where he stands.

I haven’t approached him in any way since he asked for space – I haven’t wanted to intrude. Even when he came asking for the Core, though tempted to ask whether his time to think had rendered any answers, I resisted the urge. After all, giving him the time he asked for is the least of what I owe him, really.

Now, watching his Evolution, all I can feel is pride at being part of getting him there.

Though I’ve only seen one Evolution in my life, it seems it’s going well. At least, it appears similar to what I saw happen with Bastet. The sparks are a different colour – and I wouldn’t have picked yellow if asked which colour might best represent River – but they’ve formed a whirling ball around him, just as Bastet’s forest-green ones had for her.

If I remember Kalanthia’s words correctly, this is a good sign that the first stages of the Evolutionary process have been correctly accomplished. Certainly, the samurans around me seem to be unconcerned, watching the events with eager excitement.

It occurs to me that, though Evolution is still a very new concept for me – this type of evolution, anyway – it’s a familiar one to the samurans. Indeed, several of those standing in the circle with me have undergone it themselves. After sending a quick look around, I sidle closer to where the herbalist has joined Joy. Iandee and Peace are standing nearby too, which makes that a good group to join for a variety of different opinions.

As I get closer, I hear the herbalist murmuring to Joy, the colour in her spikes indicating pleasure. Joy is aware of my presence – I see it in the quick glance she sends me – but since I’m approaching from behind, the herbalist isn’t. I pause before announcing myself, curious about what they’re discussing.

“I told you he would be one that reached Evolution, didn’t I? I told you!”

“Yes, I know,” Joy replies a little testily. “You don’t need to rub it in. Besides, he hasn’t got there yet.”

“No,” agreed the herbalist, seemingly undaunted. “But he’s past the point that all but one of out of a clawful of those who even attempt Evolution get stuck at.”

“True,” allows Joy. “Now let’s hope that your erstwhile assistant has the sense to avoid the fate that the rest of the failures managed to fall to. Markus, you wish to speak to us?” she asks, alerting the herbalist to my presence. Eyeing her, I’m not sure whether she’s trying to be polite by acknowledging me, or stymie my information-gathering about her sister.

Either way, I file what I’ve just learnt away for later consideration – it might turn out to be useful or completely useless; for now, I have another question.

“What do you usually do when one of the village manages to Evolve?” I ask curiously. “Is there a celebration or something?”

“A celebration? Oh man, you have no idea,” an unexpected source of information breaks in. Iandee shifts closer to me, turning himself so he can see both me and the ball of whirling sparks which is my recently-released Bound. “It’s wild, I tell you. First there’s an obligatory ranking fight among all the Evolved. Then there’s a massive feast. We eat fresh meat, we drink something that the Honoured Herbalist gives us, we see some crazy things, and then we sleep. It’s a real ride, that’s for sure.” We all stare at Iandee for a long moment. “What?”