by J. T. Wright
No one here had the backbone to challenge him, at least. Yes, there was one. Best to sort out the chain of command first. Cullen would follow if it kept men alive. He looked to where the adventuring party had formed up around Kirstin.
“Do you want command?” His voice was soft, suggesting he would accept any outcome.
Kristin’s eyes widened. “Uncle… Sergeant, I think you…”
“Ah,” a voice from behind cut her off. “I think he might be talking to me, Squirt.”
Kirstin frowned and looked at Allen, who had stepped forward. Squirt? That was crossing a line. She started to tell him so when his hand brushed over his face, and a similar, yet older man was standing before her. Same sly face, same mocking eyes, but a strength that the Rogue had been lacking. Confidence and experience radiated from him. Somehow, he was familiar, more familiar to her than he had been as Allen.
“Alistern, Alistern Craw!” Kirstin’s mouth fell open. Master Taylor’s son, Alistern Craw had always been like an older cousin to Kirstin. They’d played together as children. How had she not seen it?
“Did you? Have you? Did my father?” Kirstin blustered, her fists clenched. Behind her, the rest of her party wore stunned looks of disbelief. They were as rattled as she was. All except the party's Archer, Joel.
“Always knew there was something off about you,” the Archer grinned. “Too fast, and too sharp for your Level. You’re the reason we ran into so many weird situations in the Trial. Dungeons always make adjustments when a high Level challenges a low floor.”
Joel was practically laughing. He liked Allen, and he suspected he’d like Alistern. Joel had taken to the Adventurer’s life in a way the others hadn’t. Practical and adaptable, that was Joel. While the others spat and groaned at being tricked, he was relieved their Rogue was more than he appeared.
“Probably yes, to all your questions Kris,” Alistern said firmly, but with a little shame showing about his eyes. “Now’s not the time. You can yell at me all you like later. Afterward.”
Another person was relieved to see Alistern’s change. It still nagged at Trent that the man had been so willing to give him a valuable Skill. Was this a threat to his master, hiding in plain sight? Quite clearly, that wasn’t the case. Alistern was a protector, probably sent by the Duke. He could be trusted.
“Sergeant.” Trent stepped forward, he had information. “I…”
“Not now, Runt.” The Sergeant held up a hand. He kept his gaze on Alistern. “We have things to decide. So, how about it, Lieutenant? You want command?”
The Guardsmen exchanged looks. Lieutenant? An officer they didn’t know. This could be bad. Feet shuffled and eyes hardened as they waited for Alistern’s response.
“Come off it, Sergeant.” Alistern pretended not to notice the hard stares being directed at him as he faced Cullen. “You’ve got lead. I haven’t forgotten that you taught me ninety… seventy-five… sixty percent of everything I know. And I know better than anyone else here how much experience you have in Trials.”
Inwardly, Cullen relaxed. If Alistern had wanted command, he would have given it to him, but he wouldn’t have liked it. Hard to follow the son of one of your closest friends, even if the man was competent.
“That’s settled then,” Cullen said gruffly. “Alright, I need to know what we're working with. This area is a Safe Zone; but it will only last for four hours, max. Count on two. After that we can expect trouble. No telling what kind of Trial this is, so if you have anything that can help, you better let Corporal Francis know. No one holds out. Instant Trials can last for months or more. We need to work together.”
The Guardsmen immediately fell to the task of organizing what little equipment and supplies they had. The Trial had caught them off guard, most of the supplies had been on the horses or wagon, and those were nowhere to be seen. In a way, the presence of the recruits was a blessing. Seniors kept their cool in front of their juniors, and the recruits drew strength from that.
The Adventurers were a little better equipped than the Guard, but a lot more distracted. They gathered closer to Kirstin, angry faces saying they wanted the truth out of Alistern. The Lieutenant was saved from their questions when Cullen walked to the side and gestured for Alistern to follow.
Trent also walked with Cullen, uninvited. “Sergeant?” he tried once again to get the older man’s attention.
“Runt! Trent, I need you to do as the Corporal tells you. Questions need to wait.” Cullen didn’t look at Trent, merely gave him the order and expected to be obeyed.
“Lands of the Undying Lord, two months or defeat the Guardian,” Trent said quietly as the Sergeant walked away.
Fortunately, Alistern, who was coming over to join Cullen, heard him. “What was that, Trent?”
Trent repeated himself. “The Trial, it’s called Lands of the Undying Lord. The clear conditions are to survive for two months or defeat the Guardian.”
He received a message not long after the notification that he’d entered a Trial. A message that had detailed the conditions for clearing the Trial. He also received a new Class Quest. He didn’t think the Sergeant would care about his Quest.
The Quest was to Map at least eighty percent of the Trials territory or discover two hidden locations. The reward was one thousand Experience and the Ability Far Sight. Fortunately, the Quest also came with a note attached that read, Optional. Looking around, Trent didn’t think it was possible to complete this Quest. The space they were in was extensive. If there was an end to it, Trent couldn’t see it. They were in a whole different world. How could he explore nearly the whole thing in only two months?
“You hear that, Sergeant?” Alistern called.
Cullen had stopped. “Come here, Trent.”
Trent came, nervous at being called by name.
Cullen put his hand on the Summons shoulder. “I was wrong. You had something important to share, and I should have listened. I was stupid, and I apologize. Stay close.”
Trent could only nod his head. This was completely outside his expectations. Cullen apologizing? It probably didn’t happen.
“Lands of the Undying Lord… survival type,” Cullen muttered. “Undead enemies, most likely. That’s bad, very bad.” He rubbed at an eyebrow. “What’s your Level at, Stern?”
“Forty-nine, damn close to fifty. Good chance I'll hit it in this Trial.” Alistern looked concerned. “You?”
“Sixty-seven,” Cullen said softly.
“Bad doesn’t cover it then.” Alistern cursed. “We can’t stay with the group, not if it’s a survival type Trial. We'll draw beasts that will wipe out the rest with a casual blow.”
Cullen nodded. Fifty was a defining Level. Some Adventurers never reached it. One wrong choice could see you in the forty range for life. Fifty meant real power, longer life, and greater challenges. There were Adventurers that avoided hitting Level 50 just so they didn’t have to face what that Level meant.
A Survival Trial tested the individual as much as the group. It would seek to separate the strong and the weak, and if it couldn’t, it would throw challenges suitable for the highest Level, at everyone.
“Can they make it without us? The Guard isn’t equipped for Undead, and Kirstin's party,” Alistern hesitated. “Matt is a Fire Elementalist but a weak one. He'll still be useful, but he's limited. The rest… against Undead they lack experience and equipment.”
“If they can survive long enough, the Trial will provide both.” Cullen was about to go on but was interrupted by the arrival of Corporal Francis. “How does it look, Frank?”
The Corporal shook his head. He took off his helmet and tucked it under one arm. “Not good. No supplies, no spears, no shields, no bows. Standard supply of three Health and three Stamina potions each. Recruit Arisa has three Mana potions as well. The Guardsmen are armored, but the Recruits aren’t carrying anything beyond belt knives.”
“I have mine,” Trent offered. He’d worn all his weapons during the burial detail. No one had
told him to drop them. He took his short bow out of storage and handed it to the Corporal.
“I can give up my sword, and these knives are better than a belt knife. Buckler could probably be put to better use by someone else too,” he offered and immediately started to remove the mentioned equipment.
Frank took the items and nodded gratefully. “That will help. Sword and buckler to Lerner, bow for Bailey, knives for the rest. Not much, but all the extra weapons carried by the Guard and Lady Kirstin's group are of no use. The Recruits don’t have the Level, Ability, or Strength to use them.”
“Personnel wise,” Frank continued, “Nineteen total, one Healer, two Mages, two Archers, and fourteen various types of Warrior. Never did get your exact Class, Sir.”
This last was directed at Alistern. No one asked Cullen’s Class, even though no one knew. Alistern pursed his lips.
“Forward Scout and Assassin, Corporal,” he said. “But you only have seventeen, the Sergeant and I will be leaving things to you.”
Francis looked confused, and Cullen explained, “Survival Type, with Undead opponents, the Lieutenant and I would be a liability. You'll oversee the group, while Stern and I go looking for the Guardian. Thoughts?”
Frank didn’t pale, but his eyes widened for a moment. He took a deep breath to settle himself and gathered his thoughts. “Survival Type. Without you and the Lieutenant. Staying mobile is best. If we sit in one place too long, they’ll come in waves and overwhelm us. We also need to find supplies. We have water but no food. The problem with mobility is no Scouts. We’ll be slow without spotters to catch traps and ambushes.”
Alistern had the answer for this. “You’ll have a Scout, Corporal. Trent’s your man. It will take a bit to get him up to speed, but I think you’ll find he'll do.”
The Corporal’s brow furrowed, but Cullen spoke up. “Boy’s a Rogue, Frank. The Lieutenant will see to it he has the Skills. For now, get everyone together and figure out your formation. I'm carrying enough supplies to see one man through thirty days. It should be enough until you can find what the Trial has to offer.”
Trent wanted to correct the two men. Hearing himself described as a Rogue put his back up. The longer he held his Class, and the more he developed his Skills, the more he knew that he was no Rogue.
The sight of Corporal Francis looking relieved at the thought of having a scout kept Trent from speaking up. Frank put his helmet back on and saluted before moving off.
Once he was out of hearing range, Cullen said, “Not wise to lie to the men, Stern. Runt’s got promise, but he’s no Scout.”
“He will be. Trent is a Summons, Sergeant,” Alistern stated as if that explained everything.
“And?”
“Summons become what their master needs.” Alistern rolled his eyes. “You think it’s a coincidence that Trent has an Advanced Rogue Class? His master is an agility type, so are Rogues, they complement each other. Trent’s Advanced Class offers Stamina and Health, something Kirstin’s Class lacks. Summons can be strengthened in any number of ways, but they do best training with their masters. I think you’ll find Trent’s potential exploding with Kirstin present, and in need.”
Cullen squinted doubtfully. “I hope your right. I assume you’ve got a few things to teach the runt?”
“I might manage a trick or two. With me, Trent!” Without further ado, Alistern jogged off with Trent trotting at his heels. Cullen watched them go and then moved to settle any issues the rest of the group might have uncovered.
**********
Alistern led Trent up to the edge of the safe zone. He looked at the terrain and decided it would suffice. There was no guarantee it would work, but Trent was the only Rogue other than Alistern. Alistern had been gently urging Joel to change from Archer to the Scout Class when he specialized, but he was a few Levels away from that yet.
Alistern turned to give Trent his instructions when the boy spoke up. “Lieutenant? What happened to the horses?”
Alistern frowned. There wasn’t time for this! The set of Trent’s shoulders seemed worried, though. It was impossible to read the boy’s face with that damned mask, but his body language was tense.
“They’re common animals, Trent. They can’t enter a Trial,” Alistern explained. “No one knows what happens to them. It’s assumed that they’re brought to a separate place, a safe one. They will be right where we left them when we clear the Trial, well-fed and cared for. They will probably be in better shape than we are at the end of this."
The tension flowed from Trent’s body. Alistern wondered what that was all about, but time really was short. Instead of asking, he said, “Enough of that. Stand here, close your eyes, cover your ears, hum to yourself! Whatever it is you have to do to ignore me."
Trent did as he was told, confused but obedient. Standing, eyes shut, hands over his ears, he waited. It was harder than he'd thought it would be. Minutes passed as he hummed tunelessly. Left alone with his own thoughts, Trent discovered he didn’t have much to think about.
He made a list of the herbs he knew, reviewed sword and knife strokes in his mind, counted to a hundred, and then two hundred. He had been less than a month in the world. The entirety of that time was taken up with training. He knew no songs or poems; the only books he’d read were about herbs. The only stories he knew were jokes Guardsmen told, that he didn’t understand.
It was lonely standing there, sightless and deaf. He wondered what the others were doing. Were they scared? Excited? Planning great deeds and joking about the future? Whispering their fears to one another? Trent would have given much to share that with them.
After an unknown amount of time, a hand clapped him on the shoulder. The sudden contact startled him, and he jumped with a yell. Eyes popping open, he found Alistern’s mocking grin.
“I’ve run this training drill with hundreds of soldiers over the years, and you are the first one that didn’t even try to peek!” Alistern exclaimed. “Following orders is good, but the defining trait of a good Scout is curiosity. What’s over that hill? What’s behind that tree? Sharp eyes always looking, and a curious mind always analyzing.”
Trent memorized the words. Alistern had a different style than Cullen, gentler, encouraging, teasing even. Trent thought he saw a bit of the Sergeant’s glare behind the Scout’s grin. Best to pay attention.
“Turn around and tell me what you see.” Alistern waited for Trent to comply and offered an immediate correction. “Not in the distance. Be aware of the horizon, but pay attention to what’s close. You can’t be too focused on either. Miss what’s in front of you, and you’ll step into a trap. Stare too hard at the dirt, and the enemy will see you before you see him. Learn to take it all in. What do you see?”
Trent focused on the ground in front of him. Alistern’s words didn’t make much sense to him, but he tried to answer. “I see dirt and rocks."
“What else?”
There was nothing else. The ground was exceedingly boring. Dirt, rocks, a hole, a smudge. Not a smudge. “A boot print?”
“Good. Decide which way the print is headed and walk forward slowly.”
A bit of dead grass, more dirt, a rock that was turned over! He pointed it out.
“Good, what else?”
Trent was frustrated. There was nothing else. One patch of dirt was much like another, except that one. That patch tickled something, a memory from earlier in the day. A memory of Alistern teaching him to conceal tripwire and other traps. That patch of grass was unnatural.
“That’s a tripwire. How did you conceal it with so…”
“No questions! You’ll learn more about setting traps in the future, I’m sure, but for now, just learn to spot them. Move forward.”
Trent did, shuffling slowly forward. He knew what they were doing now. He called out his observations more confidently. A scuff, stepped on grass, a spike trap, another tripwire, a kicked stone. It wasn’t long before he reported to Alistern that he had picked up Tracking and Detect Traps, both at Leve
l 1.
Alistern was surprised. He expected Trent to pick Tracking up easily, but they weren’t halfway through the course he’d set up. “Summons really do respond to their master’s needs,” he muttered. Louder he said, “Good! These are the basic Skills of a good scout. Just like anything else, you can track and spot traps without the Skills. With the Skills, you'll find details are sharper, easier to detect. It gets easier as the Skill levels.”
“You'll be the party's eyes, Trent.” The boy turned and Alistern knelt. He put a hand on Trent’s shoulder. “The Guards know what they’re looking for. Even without the Skills, they’ll probably spot things you don’t at first. I need you to keep looking anyway. As you level these Skills, there will be things they miss that you don't, and it will save lives.”
It was a heavy burden to place on a young Awakened. Normally you’d have to be crazy to trust a Level 1 with that kind of responsibility. If there was any other choice, if he had time to teach Joel… but there wasn’t, and he didn’t.
“We’re done here, let’s go back.”
Chapter 20
Another hour and everything had been prepared. Rations were handed out, enough for everyone to eat for a few days. Roles had been assigned, a basic formation discussed. Cullen wished they had a day to rest and practice, but that wasn’t possible.
Everyone was as ready as they could be, except for the Sergeant. He had one last thing to do, and he was loathed to do it. He preferred to keep his secrets close, but the group needed a boost.
“Equip,” he said under his breath.
He moved to stand a short way in front of the group. All eyes were on him, and all eyes except Alistern's bulged at the sudden change in his appearance.
Gone was his guard’s uniform and short sword. The mail and breastplate, leather bracers and greaves had all been replaced by a full suit of heavy plate armor. The simple steel helmet, with its nose guard switched out for a full helm that covered his face. A huge double-bladed battle-axe, attached to a dark wooden haft at least five feet long, appeared in his hand.
