by V. A. Lewis
The first missed, but the second struck his arm. Blood trickled out of it, and he flinched. And finally, the third sent him ducking for cover.
With that, the gates stopped closing. Victor ducked his head under the metal spikes of the grille. And with that, we were through. Past the gates, and into our escape!
I spun around and watched as the city disappeared into the darkness. Torchlight from the walls and gunfire were the only things lighting up the night. Their shots echoed in the distance, but the bullets just bounced off Victor’s barrier.
And finally, the shooting ceased. The only sounds left was the sound of a horse running on dirt.
I felt my beating heart slowly return to normal. My hands slowly stopped trembling. And then, a thought idly crossed my mind.
So... am I not a Duke’s daughter?
"Owowowow—" I flinched.
"Hold still. It hurts more if you keep moving."
"I know that! I’m trying!"
Victor sighed. He carefully uncorked the bottle he was holding with one hand, and raised my right leg with the other; I grimaced, but managed to keep still.
The young man carried the potion over my ankle, then paused. He raised his head thoughtfully. "Is this your first time getting a healing potion applied on you?" he asked.
"No. My mom used one on me before. When I lost my arm." I gestured my head to my right side, then I shrugged. "But I was unconscious then," I replied.
Victor blinked. "A healing potion regenerated your arm?"
"No, no." I waved a hand to the side. "It reattached my arm."
"Ah, of course not. Only a truly talented alchemist could concoct such a mixture. And in addition to the amount of time required to make it, it probably would cost in the hundreds— if not thousands— of gold."
"Oh, ok."
"Yes. But you were unconscious, correct?" Victor waited for me to nod in affirmation before he continued. "Then this experience is still new for you."
Blinking, I asked, "What experience? You mean… being healed?"
Victor nodded his head. "Now, now. There’s no need to worry. You’ve only got a few bruises, a few small cuts, and a torn muscle. It only gets slightly uncomfortable for injuries like this." He spoke reassuringly.
Slowly, he turned the bottle over, and a translucent red liquid poured over my leg. I felt an odd sensation pass through me; it was almost like the pins and needle feelings you got after sitting down for too long. And at the same time, I could feel the tissues of my body— the flesh and the skin— mending, like a surgeon was sewing it all together.
Except there was no surgery. It was all happening by a healing potion: I saw my skin shift and cover the thin red lines on my leg; I felt the muscle underneath tense for a second and then relax back into normalcy; there was a sense of catharsis that washed over me, as the short moment of unease came and went, and everything felt better than before.
Victor finished pouring the potion over my right leg, and brought it over to the other. There were no muscle tears there, but there were a few cuts and marks still. So he tipped over the bottle, letting a few drops heal the very minor injuries.
I got up from the rock I was sitting on, and stood on my feet. I took a few steps and stretched my legs a bit.
"All better?" Victor asked.
"Mhm." I nodded my head.
It really did feel better; I probably got a mild strain back in Bys, and it must have recovered somewhat before I tore it again earlier. I swear, if I wasn’t in a life or death scenario and I tried to run, I probably would have collapsed in pain. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug!
But there were a lot of things I couldn’t have done if not for the urgency of the situation; I remembered sending bolts of magic at the guards in trying to escape. I never could’ve done that normally. I… didn’t kill them, did I?
No. The most I did was injure one guy’s hand. And it was not like it was a permanent injury— I didn’t even leave a gaping hole where my magic struck, just a cut! Not a small cut. Probably more like a gash. And even if I did somehow kill them, I had not other choice, right?
But still, my conscience was not clear. At all.
I sighed, and turned to Victor. At least I can walk normally now. I bowed my head slightly to the young man.
"Thank you," I said the words sincerely.
Victor grinned and nodded his head. "Ah, of course. It was my pleasure to assist the daughter of Lady Valeria. And it just occurred to me, you never gave me your name," he pointed out.
I raised my head back up, and met his gaze. "Melas. My name is Melas, Mr Victor." I smiled and put a hand out.
The young man blinked. He slowly took my hand, and bowed. "Please, Melas. There’s no need for formalities— Victor is perfectly fine. And although it is a rather abrupt question, I was wondering what you were going to do now?" he asked with a hint of a smile.
This time, it was my turn to blink. "Uh, what do you mean?" I asked in return.
Victor took a step back, and cleared his throat. "Ah, I understand that it is quite a difficult query— and I do apologize for pressing it— but I believe for your own safety it’s necessary to ask: what happens next for you?"
I stared at him blankly. It’s not like I didn’t understand the question; I knew perfectly well what he was asking me. But my mind was just drawing a blank at the moment, so I said nothing. And he continued.
"Right now, you’re safe with me, of course. But back in the city, you were in imminent danger of being killed for your… magick. And moments before that, you were in imminent danger of being turned into a slave."
My hand shot up to my face. I grasped at the mark near my eye, and grimaced. "Could you—"
"Unfortunately not." Victor interrupted me. He took a deep breath, and sighed. "That is the symbol of the Mancis Company, yes? They are quite famous for their slaves all throughout the Free Lands. And those they imprint their logo on are considered extremely valuable; removing it is no easy task."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why not? If a healing potion can mend muscle underneath the flesh, why can’t it remove this stupid mark?"
"Sadly, it is more than just a mark. I know it may seem like a simple burn scar, but I took a look at it earlier. Try to think of a stamp and how it adds a layer of ink on top of a surface. Well, this works similarly in that it creates a layer of this complex mixture of liquid mana, black dye, and other substances, on top of you. Except that it seeps into the scorched skin left behind from the burns, and turns it into this hard darkened skin which… is your skin now."
"Then can’t I just cut it off and heal it back that way?"
"Well, going back to my stamp analogy: it’s a stamp that changes the paper, rather than simply layer over it. A regular healing potion would not affect it at all as it thinks everything is fine and that there is no problem at all. And if you were to maybe cut off the scarred skin, and try to heal with a potion, it would simply regenerate the darkened skin back, as most healing potions return your injuries to the state it was before it got damaged. Only a high grade healing potion would return it to normal, since they restore your body to as pristine a condition as possible. The Mancis Company probably had a mana tool designed specifically to remove the 'stamp', so a cheap, regular healing potion could heal the burn mark. But unfortunately I do not have that, or a high grade healing potion."
I slumped my shoulders and sighed. "Can’t you at least try?" I asked meekly.
Victor shook his head apologetically. He tipped over his bottle, and nothing came out. "As you can see, I’m out of healing potions. It was a fairly low quality one, and it was half empty before I used the rest for you. But there are more average quality potions where I’m headed. You could of course try them if you’d like if you feel like following me. However, that once again begs the question: what are you going to do now?"
"Oh, uh, I don’t know? Follow you and try that, I guess? It’s not like I really have anywhere else to go, and this stupid mark just paints a huge t
arget on my back." I raised my shoulders uncertainly.
"But what happens after? Let’s say we somehow remove that mark from your face. Would you just go back into the world, and pretend to live like normal? Or better yet, what do you— Melas— really want?"
"What do I want?" I blinked.
"Yes. I’ve seen your magic. Your control over mana is excellent for a child. Something that should’ve been expected, knowing your mother. And yet, it’s even beyond that. You’d be a great boon if you joined our cause." Victor extended an arm towards me.
What is this, some sort of cult? MLM? Jehovah’s Witness?! I stared at him. At the young man who saved my life. And I saw a glimmer in his eyes.
I looked at his outstretched hand. At the offer he gave me. I wanted to take it, I really did. But I hesitated.
"By joining your cause, do you mean join the Dark Crusaders?"
"Yes." He nodded.
"So you want me to become a terrorist." I narrowed my eyes.
"As I said before, the more appropriate term is zealots. Personally, I believe that is a far better fate than being a slave. And I don’t just mean the kind of slavery that exists in the Free Lands. But a kind of slavery that the Holy Xan Empire holds over all of us with their false teachings. After all, aren’t they the reason for your mother’s death?"
My gaze snapped up to meet his; there was no grin and no knowing look. His face was serious. His eyes locked onto mine.
"...how did you know?"
"The same way I knew you were her daughter: an educated guess. Your mother was a rather prominent figure for over a decade. A thorn in the shoulder of the Church that just disappeared, leaving behind a mark that they would never forget. Even in obscurity, it was only a matter of time before a team of Inquisitors, or a Saint or Saintess found her."
"I see." I felt… angry. Victor was right; the Holy Xan Empire was wrong. They killed my mother. Took away the only light in my second life. I—
"You asked me earlier. About what I really want. I… don’t know. I think— I thought I wanted revenge. To hurt those who have wronged me. And yet…" I shuffled my feet.
I didn’t know. I remembered my mom. My slavery. My death. And something burned inside me.
But I also remembered death. And more recently, I remembered blasting a guard— someone who was trying to kill me— with magic. And seeing the blood on his arms, and thinking that if I didn’t miss. That if I...
My stomach wretched.
I just didn’t know. And Victor noticed.
The young man slowly lowered his hand, and sighed.
"Vengeance. It is something I can sympathize with. It is a truly noble task. But a long and arduous one too. I understand that this is a difficult question, considering your young age. But it is something we all must make eventually."
But I’m not a child! I didn’t have the energy to retort. And even if I did, I wouldn’t actually say that; because let’s be honest, my situation was very complicated.
I just stood still as Victor walked away from me and to the waiting horse. He paused right in front of it, and turned to face me.
"However, until you make your decision, you can’t just wander around by yourself. These lands are not safe for you. So I put this offer out to you: come with me, and the Dark Crusaders will offer you protection."
I blinked, but he continued.
"At the very least, we can protect you until you lose that brand upon your face. Of course, if you decide to lend us your power, it would be very much appreciated. But we can’t force you; we simply offer those like us— those who see the truth of this world— some kindness, and hope that maybe they’d do the same. So what do you say?"
I met the Dark Crusaders gaze, and he just waited. I felt some reservations, but not as much as before. After all, it was an enticing offer; there were no commitments on my end, and I only received benefits in return. It would be stupid to refuse. So I took it.
"I’ll follow you. For now, at least," I finally said.
"Very good." Victor grinned. He climbed up onto the horse, and proffered a hand to me. "Come on."
"Wait, we’re going now?"
"Of course. It’s still hours from midnight, and I’d like to reach the outpost as soon as possible. Honestly, I consider what happened back in that city a blessing since I now have my own horse, and don’t just have to hitch a ride on the back of wagons. It will cut down the travel time from around a week to— maybe three days? Even less if we get going now."
"Oh, ok." I clasped his hand and sat behind him. "Let’s go then." I nodded.
Victor waited until I was securely on the horse, before pulling on the reins. The horse took off in a trot, and with that, we were on our way.
I didn’t know what was going to happen. Everything was so uncertain. Maybe I’d get my revenge. Maybe I’d join the Dark Crusaders. Or… maybe not. I didn’t know.
But for now at least, I would follow them. I would follow Victor and the Dark Crusaders, even if they were… zealots. Because hey, at least they weren’t trying to kill or enslave me, right?
...I think my worldview may be a little bit skewed.
Chapter 26: Outpost
I rode on a pony once— back on Earth. I was a young kid, barely five years old, and I enjoyed it very much.
I remembered laughing and smiling as I rode back and forth the small field. I remembered the joy in my parents faces as they took pictures of me when I turned to face them. And I remembered wanting the moment to never end. To forever ride a pony in that fairy tale world.
Well, riding a horse was not anything like that experience; it was not fun, and it was certainly not something a kid should do for extended periods of time. And especially riding for two whole days straight? Nope, I hate it.
Maybe it was because there was no saddle, but I felt like my entire lower half had gone completely numb; I just wanted to get off the horse and lie down for an hour or two. And thankfully, I could do that soon.
We had just gone off road, into the forest, and were now headed towards some hills in the distance. Apparently there was a small cell of the Dark Crusaders located here in an outpost of over a hundred people; it was one of many that could be found across the continent.
It did make sense: they were an organization composed of individuals who were oppressed and even hunted down by more than half the world. So of course they would be spread out and keep a semi-low profile.
But even with a semi-decentralized power structure, they still had a main base of operations and a functioning leadership, which was where Victor came from. And in all honesty, they were just fighting to survive; as long as I was not committing any war crimes, I decided I’d be with them for now. Plus, Victor insisted that they’re zealots— something more akin to rebels— and not terrorists.
Regardless, they could protect me and even teach me to protect myself, so I was inclined to believe Victor. I was with him now, as our horse trotted through the trees and finally arrived into a clearing.
"We’re here," the young man said, as we slowed down.
I looked up, and blinked. "Uh… are you sure?" I asked, slightly confused.
"Yes. I’m sure."
"But that..." my voice trailed off. I raised an arm and pointed. "That’s a cave."
"That is indeed a cave, yes," he replied, voice flat.
"But you told me—"
"I told you we were going to an outpost to meet with other Dark Crusaders. And this is the location. What exactly is wrong with it?" he interrupted me. The young man folded his arms, and waited for my response.
"...don’t outposts have palisades and watchtowers and stuff?" I asked dumbly.
Victor just sighed and got off the horse. He didn’t even bother to help me down, and started for the cave.
"Hey, wait for me!" I called after him.
I struggled to climb off the horse by myself. Probably shouldn’t have said anything. I mean, I was kinda joking when I answered. But still, it’s a legitimate question! The
thought crossed my mind as I fell on my butt. Ouch. Yep, still sore.
To be honest, I did sort of understand the logic behind camping in a cave; being a natural formation, it was discreet enough that most of the time, no one was going to investigate it without reason. That was much better than the clearly man-made settlement I initially imagined, protruding out of the ground and visible to anyone nearby.
I shook the thoughts out of my mind as I crawled to my feet, and ran after Victor into the cave. He was already entering its mouth opening— it wasn’t that big of an opening, roughly seven foot in height at its highest.
I entered the cool dark shelter, exiting the hot afternoon sun, and caught up to the young man. I followed behind Victor as we walked further and further into the cave, and away from the natural sunlight behind us.
The narrow corridor grew in size the further in we went. Eventually, we reached a corner, and Victor raised a hand to stop me.
"Wait," he said.
I blinked and stared into the darkness ahead, seeing nothing. "Traps?" I guessed.
"Correct," Victor replied as he pointed his staff to the ground. "In this case, tripwires."
A small magical circle flashed briefly, before disappearing and being replaced by a ball of white light. It illuminated our surroundings as Victor aimed it at something glistening on the floor; several razor-thin strings hung barely off the floor ahead of us.
I gulped as I stared at the booby trapped hallway; I didn’t trust myself to not accidentally activate one of the traps, even when I could see them. Just one misstep, and boom— I’m dead.
Victor must have sensed my unease as he spoke to reassure me. "Do not worry. Most of these are just there to alert the camp inside. A silent alarm to prepare them in case people are coming."
I nodded and stepped over the first tripwire. Wait, did he say ‘most’? I thought, pausing. I’m pretty sure he said ‘most’! That means some of these can still kill me!!
I wanted to say something, but Victor wasn’t waiting for me. He briskly walked through the booby trapped section of the corridor, as I carefully— and exaggeratedly— stepped over each string. I’m not Sonic, so I don’t gotta go fast.
