Rick punched him on the arm.
“Shut up, idiot. He’s been in here fighting Gellers all week.”
Danielle gave Rick an approving smile.
“One more thing,” she said. “This scenario will be set during a monster surge.”
Danielle walked into the viewing room, striding up onto the platform in front of the viewing window, with a crystal rod in her hand. The room went quiet. No one had the courage to still be talking when Danielle started speaking.
“The Geller name is a good one to have,” Danielle said. “Each of you in this room either carries it or are the boon companions of those who do. It is a name that opens doors, garners respect. It is a name to be proud of.”
She panned her gaze over the audience: Geller trainees, their companions, and a few of the instructors who trained them. She continued her speech.
“I was just reminded, however, that pride can be a danger. We are not made great because our name is great. Our name is great because we make it so. Everyone who bears the Geller name has the responsibility to live up to it. We are born with this name but it is not a gift. It is a stewardship, not just of the name itself but to those who rely on it, who look up to it and respect it. The privilege and power that comes with our name is a covenant that we will use that power with decency and honour. To protect and provide for those who do not share our privilege. It falls to each of us to ensure that when we pass on the Geller name, it is not lesser than when we received it, but greater.”
She waved the rod in her hand at the viewing window, which blinked to life. It showed a common scene from the delta; muddy ground filled with tangled tree roots, the canopy overhead casting everything in shadow. Rick and his team trudged through the mud that sucked at their boots with every step.
“As instructors, we find some lessons take longer to sink in than others,” Danielle said. “You are all filled with the realisation of your new power. You feel strong, unbeatable, even. It can make you disrespect the forces outside of yourself as determinants of success and failure.”
She glanced back as the team struggled along the wet ground. Hidden roots and unexpected deep patches on mud made for stumbling progress. The thick foliage above them forced them to rely on a magic lamp for light. It was an expensive one that would float over them without occupying a hand, but it filled the space around them with the dancing shadows of the trees.
“Your surroundings,” Danielle picked up, “can be a stronger weapon than the one in your hand. Monsters rarely spawn in training halls and fighting arenas. In most cases, you will be engaging them in their own environments. While you are watching, I want all of you to pay attention to this particular point, who is using the environment, and how.”
67
This is What it Means to Fight Me
Jason moved comfortably through the marshy woods. His feet didn’t sink into water or mud, and his eyes easily pierced the darkness. Clusters of scraggly trees and other obstacles were no bother; he could vanish into the ample shadows and appear on the far side. Despite being all an illusion, it felt completely real. The hot, heavy air, the tiny insects swarming around him. A small burst of aura projection sent them scattering.
A thick strand of webbing launched itself out of a shadow, striking the spot where Jason had been moments before. It was not the first such miss, as Jason’s eyes could dig out the trap weavers in the darkness. Even if they hit, the webs slid off. They could not adhere either to his essence ability cloak or the armour underneath.
Effect: Resistant to adhesive substances and abilities with adhesive effects.
The woods were filled with trap weavers, leaving behind a maze of sticky threads as they attempted to ensnare Jason. He flashed through the shadows, dagger planting in the head of the giant spider. It dropped to the ground as he continued strolling through the woods.
In the viewing room, Danielle controlled the perspective of the viewing window with the rod in her hand. She used it to follow Rick and his team’s journey through the dark, marshy woodlands.
Henry Geller threw out his hand as he chanted a quick spell.
“Fire Bolt.”
Flame launched from Henry’s fingers, missing the fleeting, shadowy figure to burn out as it hit a tree trunk. Hannah’s arrow had come closer, but Jason’s figure was gone before it too stuck harmlessly into a tree.
“Henry?” Rick called out.
“He jumps around too much,” Henry said. “It’s like he’s everywhere.”
Henry wielded magic of wind and fire, and they had been tracking Jason by reading his scent on the air. They had caught glimpses of him, but only seen little more than shapes in the darkness.
The group continued searching the murky, woodland bog. Jonah was their bulwark, but his heavy armour and shield slowed him to a crawl. Rick was their other frontline fighter and he was coping better. His armour wasn’t as heavy and his might essence gave him the strength to plough through the mud. His greatest problem was that his long, heavy sword was hard to swing among the trees.
Rick and Jonah, along with Henry, were all members of the Geller family. The two remaining team members were the elf twins, Hannah and Claire Adeah—an archer and the team healer. As the healer, Claire was always the most important team member to protect. Her ability to cleanse Jason’s afflictions made it doubly true. For this reason, she was in the most guarded part of the formation as they made their sluggish way through the marsh.
“What’s that?” Jonah called from the front.
The others looked as he pointed out ahead. The trees grew closer together, and streamers of webbing, thick as an arm, were draped through them like party decorations. It wasn’t any kind of pattern, but wild and scattered. It was thickly laid out, to the point of being hard to find a passage through.
“Trap weavers,” Hannah said. They had already encountered several, most of which had been pinned to trees by her arrows.
“Trap weavers are careful,” Rick said. “This doesn’t look careful.”
“I think Asano might have provoked them,” Henry said. “This whole area is riddled with his scent.”
“I don’t think going through that is a good idea,” Jonah said.
“We have to,” Rick said. “He hides, we chase; that’s the game. If we refuse to go somewhere, he can just wait there and time us out.”
“That’s not a fair condition,” Jonah said.
Hannah looked at him like he was an idiot.
“There’s five of us,” she said.
“I’m just saying,” Jonah said sullenly.
“Hannah,” Rick said. “Your eyes are the best. Find us the clearest path.”
The webbing proved to be very widespread.
“How did he get trap weavers to do all this without getting caught by them?” Claire wondered.
“He’s tough to pin down,” Rick said. “He may need shadows to teleport, but he can keep doing it, over and over. In a place like this, he's a ghost.”
As they headed into the web-strewn trees they were plunged into shadow, the canopy above them low, but thick. They were moving slower than ever as they picked their way through the webs.
“I don’t like this,” Henry said.
“We just need to get a good look at him,” Hannah countered. Her bow was always at the ready. She was not worried about the obstructions, and was prepared to fire from her short bow at a moment’s notice.
“Can you burn through these webs?” Rick asked Henry.
“Trap weaver webs don’t burn easily,” Henry said. “I’d blow through my mana and barely make a dent.”
Around them was eerie quiet. Only the buzzing of insects accompanied the squelching of their feet in the mud, so a sudden new sound arrested their attention.