Hearthomancy vol 2 a men.., p.1
Hearthomancy Vol. 2: A Men's Fantasy Adventure, page 1
Hearthomancy Vol. 2
M.E. Thorne
Copyright © 2023 by M.E. Thorne
Original Cover Art by Mine Mir
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
Author’s Note
Fullpage image
1. Chapter 1
2. Chapter 2
3. Chapter 3
4. Chapter 4
5. Chapter 5
6. Chapter 6
7. Chapter 7
8. Chapter 8
9. Chapter 9
10. Chapter 10
11. Chapter 11
12. Chapter 12
13. Chapter 13
14. Chapter 14
15. Chapter 15
16. Chapter 16
17. Chapter 17
18. Chapter 18
19. Chapter 19
20. Chapter 20
21. Chapter 21
22. Chapter 22
23. Chapter 23
24. Chapter 24
25. Chapter 25
26. Chapter 26
27. Chapter 27
28. Chapter 28
29. Chapter 29
30. Chapter 30
31. Chapter 31
32. Chapter 32
33. Chapter 33
34. Chapter 34
35. Chapter 35
36. Chapter 36
37. Chapter 37
38. Chapter 38
39. Chapter 39
40. Chapter 40
41. Chapter 41
42. Chapter 42
43. Chapter 43
44. Chapter 44
45. Chapter 45
Afterword
Books by M.E. Thorne
Author’s Note
If you haven't seen the movie House 2: The Second Story, do yourself a favor and check it out. It was one of my favorite silly, pulp-adventure films as a kid and served as a bit inspiration for the Hearthomancy series. I'd never say it was a good movie, but it is a hell of a lot of fun!
I have a Patreon now! For just $5 a month, you can gain access to character artwork, preview chapters of upcoming releases, and polls regarding my projects!
As always, you can follow me on Facebook and Twitter for the latest updates. If you enjoyed this book please leave a positive review and spread the word!
Thank you again!
Chapter 1
I braced my back against the barn’s access door, keeping it shut as the Monsters furiously battered and clawed against the other side. Lorelei, floating beside me, pressed against it as well, trying to help hold it shut with her insubstantial weight.
Blood slicked along my fingers. One of the Wyvlings had managed to slash my forearm.
We were both knocked back as something slammed into the door. I rammed my shoulder into place, barely dodging the ice-cold claws that scythed through the opening.
“Brent—you okay, son?”
Looking toward the house, I saw Mr. Thompson tottering down the stairs, a concerned look on his face.
I quickly hid my injured arm behind my back. “Just fine, sir. The bats are a bit more feisty than I imagined, but we should have them out of your barn real soon.”
Something inside the building screeched in hateful rage.
Mr. Thompson stood at the bottom of his backyard steps, looking even more worried. “I’m so sorry, Brent—it’s just when Animal Control turned around and left—I just had–”
“It’s okay!” I assured him hastily. “Lorelei and I will have this taken care of in no time. Why don’t you go back inside and brew up some coffee? I’ll probably need a cup or two when this is all over!”
He nodded, then wobbled his way back inside the house.
As soon as he was gone, I reached for the bottle I had tucked into my tool belt. Using my teeth to pull the cork, I quickly downed the Healing Potion. It tasted like stale cough syrup.
“Brent?” Lorelei said worriedly.
A familiar tingling burn ran through my arm, healing the cut I had received. The Monsters trapped in the barn kept trying to batter their way out. I was just happy they were too stupid to go for the hayloft door above us.
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
The door rattled again. One or two Monsters we could handle, but I had counted at least six Wyvlings when they had initially rushed us. We needed backup.
I really hoped Ishikana would get there soon.
***
The day had started out crummy. Outside our ongoing issue with my Lair’s leaking mana, I had woken up to learn that Stinky, our supposed pet cat, had run off again. Lorelei had been beside herself worrying about him.
“What if he gets eaten by a Monster?” the Hearth Spirit kept saying.
While I wasn’t worried about the cat, I knew Lorelei really cared about him. We searched around the manor a bit, but there was no sign of the orange tabby. The Hearth Spirit left out an extra tin of tuna in hopes of drawing Stinky out of hiding.
I had almost been relieved when Mr. Thompson, the old cattle farmer, had called. He said he had some bats in his barn. When I suggested he contact Animal Control, he said they had arrived—then promptly left. They told the poor man he needed to contact the college or one of the town’s adventuring guilds.
Mr. Thompson didn’t know anyone at Ashling State, and he didn’t know zip about adventurers. He did know me though; I had done plenty of work for him in the past. He was well into his eighties, a widower, so he constantly needed help around his farm.
I had intended on retiring from being the town’s handyman, but I couldn’t say no when the farmer had asked for help. Hearing the shrieking cries echoing in the background of the call had only raised my concern.
Like many old people, Mr. Thompson was utterly bewildered by the world after The Reckoning and the introduction of the System. He had no clue about Dungeons, Monsters, Classes, or Skills. And by the sound of things, the bats in his barn were tied to Rotwood Manor’s mana leak issue.
Before leaving, I sent a text to Ayara. She had driven out to Philadelphia that morning for an overnight trip. She was making a delivery of twenty mana-enhanced weapons to a group of adventurers she knew. It had taken her a few months to complete the order, especially since she was still getting used to her new Class, but she was sure they’d be a hit with the customer.
Ayara confirmed the trip was going well, but she was looking forward to coming home. For a giant, buff Magical Blacksmith, she used a surprising amount of cute emojis in her text.
I promised her that we’d go out to dinner to celebrate the sale once she got home.
Ishikana had been in her study, going over the findings from our last trip to the Frost Princess’s Prison. The icy Dungeon was a difficult delve, but we were determined to defeat it and complete our current Lair Quest.
Lair Quest! – Rescue the Frost Princess!
Rewards: Winter’s Garden Boon
The Arachne still puzzled me. If you ignored her eight eyes, she appeared to be a gorgeous, mature woman from the waist up. Ishikana sported a honey-kissed complexion and smooth, copper-hued hair. Her wardrobe and typical demeanor made me think of a sexy professor.
But from the waist down, she was a giant freaking spider. Her two front spider limbs—palps, as I had learned—were in front of her, framing her like a woman sitting with her legs crossed. Her six other chitin-covered legs held up the ponderous bulk of her sternum and abdomen. Fine brown hairs, like feathery down, ran along her stern, abdomen, and along the ends of her legs.
She was sexy and inhuman—and my brain still couldn’t make out if I was thrilled or horrified that she was into me.
Thankfully, she had been absorbed in her work and didn’t even think to flirt with me. She only briefly looked up from her research before wishing us good luck. Ever since the fall of DIK, the psychotic cult that had been masquerading as the Neighborhood Watch, the spidery Scholar had become even more obsessed with Rotwood Manor and uncovering its secrets.
As Lorelei and I set out, I did a quick inspection of the latest round of work on the manor.
When DIK had invaded during the October solar eclipse, they had managed to destroy the front of the house and most of the foyer. The town elders of Ashling Grove had paid me a tidy settlement since the cult had brainwashed the town’s cops into harassing and then attacking me.
The funds had gone a long way to not only repair the damage caused by Delta Iota Kappa but a lot of other projects as well. We had replaced all the windows and most of the manor’s siding; the foyer had been repaired as well. The new staircase wasn’t as fancy as the old one. It didn’t have hand-carved balusters and handrails, but I hoped to be able to fully restore it one day.
There was still an endless list of tasks that needed to be completed before then—but Rotwood Manor was in far better shape than the derelict shell I had purchased less than a year before.
Hopping into my truck, we drove up the driveway. According to the county assayer's office, Rotwood Manor stood on twenty acres of Pennsylvania woodland. In reality, it was far, far larger.
My Lair contained a multitude of realms, including several Dungeons. Mana surged through the woodland as the truck reached the top of the driveway; Fire, Water, Darkness, and more exotic elements flowed around us.
Getting out of the t
As always, we felt a wave of weakness hit us as we left the bounds of Rotwood Lair.
Brent Owens
Race: Human
MP: 1250/1250
Ability Scores
Strength: 12
Finesse: 14
Fortitude: 19
Resilience: 19
Wisdom: 35
Discipline: 39
Classes
Hearthomancer Lvl 9
Laborer Lvl 7
Skills
Hearth Spirit Lvl 9
Hearth Flame Lvl 8
Guardian’s Stormwall Lvl 4
Mana Manipulation Lvl 6
Identify Lvl 3
Second Wind Lvl 3
Proficiencies
Bottling Mana Lvl 4
Hearthomancy Lvl 8
Carpentry Lvl 7
Construction Lvl 7
Plumbing Lvl 3
Roofing Lvl 4
Electrical Wiring Lvl 3
One-Handed Swords Lvl 3
“I’ll never get used to that,” Lorelei grumbled as she turned on the truck’s heater.
There’s only one way to describe early January in Pennsylvania—gray. A cloudy, overcast sky hung heavily over the hills and valleys of Ashling Grove.
It was the quintessential quiet college town, located in what could be kindly described as the middle of nowhere. Ashling State sat at one end of the valley, and my manor was at the other. In between was the town’s main drag, which featured a handful of restaurants, shops, and cafes. Houses and residential neighborhoods occupied the hillsides.
Lake Coldwater, which ran along the edge of town, looked like a flat, clouded mirror that morning. Only a few, brave, foolish souls were fishing along the shoreline. Nobody would dare take a boat out, especially after the Disaster of 1985, where five people had drowned.
Growing up, I always thought of my hometown as fairly mundane. Sure, we had our fair share of odd traditions, like the solar eclipse festivals or the graveyard offerings left by the town’s children, but I had just written them off as small-town oddities. It was only after purchasing Rotwood Manor that I began to realize how deeply weird Ashling Grove really was.
The Order of Stone’s meeting hall rivaled the Episcopalian church as the tallest building in town. It was a huge, gothic structure that covered nearly half a block. The Order had begun as a group of masons, the craftsmen that had originally helped build the town. Since then, they become part of the town elders, responsible for maintaining Ashling Grove’s traditions.
Or, as I had learned, repressing the true story behind the town’s history. The town elders worked hard to maintain the facade that Ashling State was nothing more than a sleepy college town. The truth was so much more disturbing.
As I drove by, I noticed a few college kids from Ashling Grove standing in the public square in front of the Order’s meeting hall. They were all wearing white cloaks and carrying signs like THE OLD GUARD HAVE FAILED and THE WORLD NEEDS HEROES.
They looked like morons to me, but the blonde woman leading the rally seemed super pumped up. She was just pulling out a bullhorn when a cop car appeared. The college kids quickly dispersed, dipping into nearby alleys.
“What was that all about?” Lorelei wondered.
I shrugged. “Who knows?”
There were plaques, monuments, and statues all over town. They marked the various disasters and tragedies that blemished Ashling Grove’s past.
Lorelei remembered many of those events. The Hearth Spirit had inherited her appearance and much of her memory from Lorelei Ganlts. Her father, Patrick Ganlts, a local lumber baron and business magnate, had originally constructed Rootwood Manor in the early 1900s. It had only become Rotwood Manor after falling into disrepair and squalor after Patrick and Lorelei Ganlts’ deaths.
The Hearth Spirit’s mortal memories were scarred by loneliness and tragedy. She was determined to make her second life as bright and happy as possible.
I had to admit that she was a constant source of joy. A spirit shaped from magic and mana, she looked like a silver screen bombshell, with midnight black hair and finely sculpted features. She could change her clothing at will. Though, when we were alone, she favored wispy gowns that did nothing to hide her otherworldly curves.
That morning she was bundled in a white parka with a fur-trimmed hood.
“I know you really don’t experience hot and cold,” I told her.
“Maybe, but I know you’re cold. I can feel it through the bond we share!” she replied. “So maybe if I think warm thoughts and wear a warm coat, you’ll feel warm too!”
I leaned over and kissed her as we stopped at the next stoplight. As always, I appreciated her efforts.
Thompson’s farm was located at the very edge of town, in a small basin that ran perpendicular to the main valley. He had owned the cattle farm since I was a kid, but he had essentially retired after his wife’s death a few years back. I knew his kids were trying to convince him to sell the property and move in with one of them, but he refused to give up the farm. Too many happy memories, I assumed.
The old farmer met us out front, a panicked look on his face. He quickly explained that he had heard weird noises from the barn the night before but hadn’t been able to investigate until that morning.
“Bats—big ones too—real nasty,” was all he said.
He’d already called Animal Control that morning. Ashling Grove only had two Animal Control agents—a pair of men almost as old as Thompson. They’d taken one look in the barn, then told the farmer to call in an adventurer.
“An adventurer? What kind of bull is that?” Thompson complained. “I tried to look up Ashling State in the phone book, but there were so many listings. I just didn’t know what to do!”
My heart went out to him. Lorelei was moved as well.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Thompson, we’ll take care of it!” she promised.
She escorted the old man back into his house while I went to investigate the barn. I checked my gear. After the attack on our house, Ayara had insisted on making me a proper set of fitted armor, including gauntlets and a breastplate. Steel and chainmail, reinforced by teflon and a bit of spellcraft, provided an amazing amount of protection.
The Drow had also forged the mana-enhanced rapier sheathed at my hip. The sword doubled as my focus, allowing me to channel my Skills.
The old barn stood at the rear of the property, past the pastures. Thompson hadn’t kept any cattle in years, leaving the fields overgrown and muddy. The barn itself was in good shape, but that’s because I had spent the summer two years prior fixing it up. The paint had peeled a bit, but overall, my work was holding up.
As I got close, I heard a series of ear-splitting screeches. Something hit the barn door, causing it to rattle on its rails. I pulled out my sword and coated it with Hearth Flame.
Hearth Flame
MP Cost: 150
Even away from their Lairs, the Hearthomancer may call upon the flame of their hearth to burn their opponents. This Skill can either create a burning projectile or be channeled into the Hearthomancer’s weapon, coating it in flames.
Multi-hued, burning mana flickered along the edge of the blade. Lorelei reappeared by my side.
She gave the barn a wary look. “Brent?”
Rather than opening the main sliding door, I approached the smaller, man-sized access door set into it.
“Stay here,” I told her. “I don’t know how many bats there are, but we can’t afford to let them get out. Blast anything that tries to escape.”
Taking a deep breath, I unlatched the door and stepped inside.
The interior of the barn was cavernous and dark. The only light came from a narrow series of windows that ran along the roofline. The air smelled like damp hay, with the lingering scent of long-gone cattle. Bits of aging farm equipment glinted in the gloom.
I tried the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. Raising my burning sword like a torch, I stepped toward the center of the barn.
As soon as I did, something swooped down from the hayloft behind me. I barely managed to turn as a dark, icy-blue shape came at me. It was all wings, claws, and mindless rage.
Its wings batted my head, and I slashed at it with my rapier. As I did, I used my Identify skill. I had no clue what an Ice Wyvling was, but my skill quickly identified a whole pack of them as they dove at my face.
