ALBA

by HL TRUSLOVE

  All things considered, it’s not the worst outcome. They could have killed you.

  You take a moment to let the world stop spinning before you get to your feet. It’s impossible to see what state the battle is in now, who’s winning or losing, but at least you’re safe and free.

  With wobbling footsteps, you begin to leave the battlefield. You don’t want to stick around to face whoever wins, you decide. It’s best to come back here when the battle is over.

  If you want to come back here at all…

  END.

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  26.8a

  “Are you here to help us?” she reiterates.

  Suddenly, you feel your mouth go dry. What are you doing? Offering to get involved in a fight, between raiders no less, a fight where you could get injured or die? Putting your life on the line before you find your group?

  It’s a stupid idea. You shouldn’t be in this position.

  The woman rolls her eyes. With a quick movement of her hand, her spear is turned around and she slams the shaft into your head. You black out from the pain.

  When you finally come round, you’re being dragged out of the camp. In fact, you’re a good hundred feet away from the closest tent. You feel yourself being dropped by the guards who were carrying you – the same ones who brought you in – before one of them kicks you hard in the stomach. You gag with pain and watch them leave.

  Though you’re in terrible pain, it’s not the worst they could have done. In fact, she was probably being merciful to leave you in gut-wrenching agony rather than running you through. Maybe you weren’t worth the trouble.

  You take a moment so the world stops spinning before you get to your feet. It’s impossible to see what state the battle is in now, who’s winning or losing, but at least you’re out of it.

  With wobbling footsteps, you begin to leave. You don’t want to stick around to face whoever wins, you decide. You can’t imagine either side would be happy to see you. It’s best to come back here when the battle is over.

  If you want to come back here at all…

  END.

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  26.9

  “I could sneak into the other camp for you and report back. I don’t look like one of your soldiers; they might not even realise that anything’s wrong.”

  The huge man mulls it over before nodding, catching onto the idea.

  “Aye, that could work. It’ll be dangerous, though.”

  Yes, you imagined it might be. You can’t imagine they’d welcome you strolling into their camp with open arms. As you’re about to continue, a look dawns on his face as if he’s just had a brilliant idea.

  “In fact… you could go and try and find the blueprints she’s hiding. That’s what this whole thing is about, anyway.”

  He brushes off the ash that’s collected on the top of his wartable and points at the other side of the map. Crudely drawn tents have been illustrated over the top, and from what you can see they roughly match what’s been made behind enemy lines.

  “They’re probably in this tent here. If you can go and get the blueprints for the war machine she’s hiding, and bring them back here, this fight will be pretty much over. We can retreat without any more damage and we’ll have got what we came here for.”

  He crosses his arms and looks at you.

  “Are you up for it?”

  Well, you suppose if stealing them will help end all this fighting quicker, there’s no way you can’t do it. You nod and the man beams at you.

  You’re given instructions as to what tent the bounty is probably in and told he’ll send the order to advance, to try to draw the guards in the camp away. Then, you’re wished luck and sent onwards.

  You decide to go back up the hill and approach the enemy camp from the back. It’s easier said than done, though; you have to go back quite some distance in order to stay hidden from the battlefield. The last thing you want is an enemy sniper to see you and pick you off. That means the hill is steeper and in some parts, you’re climbing rather than walking, the front of your coat picking up grass stains and muddy imprints as you go. You sigh but also consider that’s probably not the worst thing that’s been on it.

  At the top of the hill, you drop to your stomach and crawl along the crest. You have to go by sound to work out when you’re passing the battle itself – you don’t want to stick your head up to survey and make yourself a target. You keep your ears peeled and listen to the fighting get louder as you pass the field, and then quieter again as you continue towards the enemy campsite. Soon, the noise has died down enough that you’re pretty sure you’re past the worst of it, so you risk checking over the hill – the enemy camp is about a hundred metres away. Deciding you’ve spent enough time getting there, you tuck in your arms and roll down to the bottom.

  It’s disorientating, but gets you where you need to be quickly. Then, you’re back to crawling through the grass.

  You’re lucky. It seems that the man’s word was good and you hear a roar come from the battlefield. Any soldiers who were guarding the camp snatch up their weapons and run towards the fighting. You get into the camp unseen.

  You head for the tent the big man instructed and sneak through the heavy hessian door flap. It’s hard to see inside, the thick fabric obscuring the daylight, but you can see the only thing here is a rolled-up scroll of paper on a table. You unfurl it and look.

  It’s the blueprints all right, for some sort of flying war machine. It looks confusing, but this must be what the warlord is after. You’re about to tuck them into your pack and pelt it out of there when you falter for a moment.

  Would giving these to another raider really solve any problems? Sure, this particular battle might stop but raiders are raiders – they’ll use this technology to inflict terror on the locals. You could take them away and hold onto them until you find your group again, putting them in safer hands. Or, you could destroy them right now and run away.

  Read them – Turn to 26.18, Needs Old World Language.

  * * *

  Read them – Turn to 26.18a, Needs Balloon Encounter.

  * * *

  Take them back to the man – Turn to 26.19.

  * * *

  Destroy them – Turn to 26.20.

  * * *

  Take them to your group – Turn to 26.23.

  26.10

  The man grimaces as you hear a terrible shriek from the battlefield. One of the sharpshooters falls back, blood bursting forth from their eye. You grimace and turn away. There’s nothing that you can do for them.

  “She’s been pissing us off for some time. This wasn’t meant to be a fight, though. We were trying to bargain with her. She has some blueprints for a war machine we want. Tried to trade for them. She laughed in our faces. Somebody fired a bullet, and suddenly we’re here.”

  You look over to the battlefield and wonder how a negotiation could have gone so horribly wrong. Then again, you suppose raiders are always volatile. But what’s really captured your attention is this war machine. What does he mean? And is it something that any raiders should really have their hands on?

  Just as you think you’ve solved one mystery, the Old World turns around and throws another into your lap.

  You suddenly notice the man is staring at you.

  “So?” he asks. “Are you going to pitch in, or waste more of my time?”

  Make bombs – Turn to 26.6, Needs Chemistry.

  * * *

  Fix the guns – Turn to 26.7, Needs Engineering.

  * * *

  Change your mind and refuse to help – Turn to 26.8.

  * * *

  Offer to infiltrate the enemy camp – Turn to 26.9.

  26.10a

  The woman rolls her eyes and flicks her wild locks back over one shoulder. You wonder for a moment if she’s going to answer,
but you quickly realise she wants you out of her hair and the best way to do that is to just answer you.

  “We have some blueprints they want. They wanted to trade for them but didn’t have anything valuable enough so I told them to fuck off. Someone fired, things turned ugly. We’re going to crush him anyway, but if you want to go help, be my guest.”

  Her spear doesn’t move from your throat and she stares at you, waiting for an answer to her question. You’ve already tested her patience long enough. It’s time to make a decision one way or the other.

  Offer to help the wounded off the battlefield – Turn to 26.11, Needs Survival.

  * * *

  Offer to help in the fight – Turn to 26.12, Needs Hand-to-Hand Combat OR Dagger’s Dagger OR Hatchet.

  * * *

  Refuse to help – Turn to 26.8a.

  26.11

  “Let me help bring the wounded back,” you say. “I’m stronger than I look.”

  That seems to appease the woman; she lowers the spear tip from your throat, then cocks her head towards the door of her tent.

  “Go.”

  You scramble to your feet and run towards the battlefield. You breach the line of sharpshooters they have set up and pick up the first injured soldier you can see from the grass. He’s far enough away from the fighting that it’s easy to bring him back to base, though you have to watch that you don’t get clipped by any bullets. Other raiders come and pick him up when you’ve brought him back, hurrying him into a tent that you guess is for injured fighters.

  For the rest of the battle, that’s what you do. Hurry to the battlefield, haul the wounded onto your shoulders, and lug them back behind allied lines.

  You’re not sure how long this goes on for, but soon you hear cheers coming from the battlefield – from your side. Raiders smile at each other and put their weapons away. The others – the enemy side, you assume – get to their knees and slowly put their hands on their heads.

  It looks like your side has won.

  Honestly, you didn’t really consider this option; you were too busy trying to get people to safety. But as you take your last casualty back – a mewling boy, no older than a teenager – it seems the raiders are taking prisoners and celebrating their victory.

  You see the red-haired woman surveying the scene with approval. She looks at you and nods.

  “Well done,” is all you’re given. You want to ask about a reward, but soon she’s swept off to look at the state of her army.

  You’re left on your own. Things could be worse, you suppose. At least you saved some lives today.

  END.

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  26.12

  “Let me fight,” you say. The woman grins and lowers her weapon.

  “That’s what I like to hear,” she tells you as you get to your feet. You go for your pack to get a weapon, but she throws you the machete hanging at her waist. You catch it in mid-air – thankfully not severing a finger – and give it an experimental swing. It’s a much better weight than anything you have with you.

  You leave the tent and head towards the battlefield. There are a few gunners lined up behind the main battle, taking shots where they can get them, and one of them looks up at you with curiosity.

  You barely notice them.

  Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you walk, then jog, then run towards the fight. You see two raiders in an altercation. The enemy has a woman pinned and is about to run a knife through her throat, but you step in and swing – the knife goes flying away, his hand with it. He doesn’t even have time to grab the bloody stump and scream before your blade takes a chunk off the top of his head. His body falls to its knees, and then the floor, a spray of blood misting the air over you and his potential victim.

  You don’t help her get up. Instead you move on to the next raider who needs to be cut down.

  You lose yourself in it. The carnage. It’s so easy to just mow people down. A swing there, and you take out a leg. A punch here, and someone’s doubled over enough to decapitate. Soon, the opposite side must realise what a threat you are because bullets are flying towards you; you feel at least one hit your arm, but the adrenaline pushes the pain away.

  Before long, you become aware of the fighting dying down around you. The other side are surrendering. Your allies are cheering in victory.

  You’ve won.

  You pause, breathing heavily, aware that blood is dripping off of you and very little of it is your own.

  You jump when you feel a hand clapped on your back. It’s the woman with the red hair. She takes the machete from you and smiles for the first time.

  “Well done,” she tells you, before going off to survey the victory you’ve helped her win. You want to ask her about rewards, but guess that probably won’t happen.

  You’re not that bothered, you suppose. At least the battle is over now.

  People congratulate and cheer you as you walk away from the battlefield. Apparently you were seen more than you thought, because the raiders appear to be impressed. You don’t acknowledge any of them. You think it’s just best to leave.

  You need a bit of a break.

  END.

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  26.13

  You stand and let the woman guide you to one of collections of tents. She hurries you inside, and you’re met with a wartable that’s been quickly constructed; a red-headed woman speaks to a soldier on the other side of it. She dismisses him and looks at you with a level gaze, and the raider who escorted you in lifts her spear up to aim at you.

  “You were the medic in the field?” she asks. You get the sense she probably knows the answer.

  “I was.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m just a traveller.”

  “Why were you helping both sides?”

  Ah, yes. That’s a little bit more difficult to answer, you think. The woman stares at you, impatience in her eyes, clearly waiting for an answer.

  “I have no side” – Turn to 26.21.

  * * *

  “Because it was the right thing to do” – Turn to 26.22.

  26.14

  “No, I’m all right, thank you.”

  The woman looks taken aback as you get to your feet. You don’t want to fight her, but you don’t want to come with her, either – having to answer to some raider who probably won’t be too happy that you chose to assist both sides in what was clearly a turf war is not your idea of fun.

  She doesn’t really know what to say, her mouth floundering for a moment. You smile at her cheerfully before turning on your heel and leaving the site of the battle. She doesn’t come after you, so you suppose whoever sent her wasn’t really that bothered about having you answer for your actions. You’re not sure what you would have said, anyway. You don’t think raiders will take kindly to the answer that you wanted to help everyone, regardless of what side they were on.

  You walk away from the battlefield without looking back, but with a sense of pride that you probably saved quite a few lives today. Even if they were raider lives.

  END.

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  26.15

  You spend a while longer looking out onto the battlefield, watching the blood being spilled and lives being taken. People fall to the ground like clockwork. How easy it is, you think, to take a life. This is the most death you’ve ever witnessed, and you don’t think you can stomach it any more.

  You turn away and leave the hill. The sounds of the battle echo loudly behind you; in fact, they seem to get louder, as if they don’t want you to forget that they’re there.

  You still carry the weight of it on your shoulders. You don’t turn back. Instead you head out into the plains before you, desperate to get away fr
om the fighting.

  There’s nothing you could do anyway, you tell yourself.

  You’re not entirely sure if that’s true, or just a comforting lie.

  Eventually, far too long afterwards, the sounds of the battle fade.

  You keep walking.

  END.

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  26.16

  You carefully place the bomb down on the table, acting like you’re complying with their commands, before launching yourself towards the door. One of the enemy raiders shouts in surprise, but doesn’t expect you to barrel into him and knock him off his feet. His machete comes down and scrapes your shoulder, definitely drawing blood, but with him down there’s a clear enough path for you to run out into the open.