Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  The Huntress stopped him at a pace or two from the tree and grabbed his shoulder.

  Hal looked questioningly at her. It was obvious she was trying to find a way to tell him something without using words. Finally, she nodded and held up a finger.

  Releasing her grip on his shoulder, she pointed at him then mimed covering her eyes with one hand. Her free hand reached out toward the tree and she pretended to take something from it. Without looking at it or removing her hand from her eyes, she mimed shoving it into her mouth and eating.

  “I got it,” Hal said with a nod. “You want me to shut my eyes and pick a mushroom at random and eat it without looking.”

  The Huntress smiled encouragingly, the first smile he’d ever seen on her typically dour features. She took the canteen from him and stepped aside.

  Normally, Hal would have been skeptical. Or even feared that this was some horrendously elaborate prank but he knew it didn’t hold any merit. If the woman wanted to poison or kill him, she had more direct methods.

  And besides, Hal had let his whole life pass him by as he weighed the pros and cons of every situation in his life. He was tired of over-analyzing and coming up with plans for events that would never occur.

  He wanted to live.

  I don’t want to be the same person. Not here. If magic can exist, then that means I don’t need to be the same version of me that I’ve always been.

  Hal took the remaining steps to the tree and reached out with his free hand, eyes squeezed shut. Blindly, he grabbed a spongy top and ripped off a chunk.

  Without daring to open his eyes, afraid he’d chicken out at the last second, he took a bite.

  His teeth crunched through the skin and into the dry spongey material below. It tasted about as bad as he expected. Like old gym socks or really expensive cheese.

  He never could tell the difference.

  Forcing down every bite, Hal ate the mushroom.

  Hal opened his eyes to the worst acid trip in his life. Colors swirled and melted together then reformed entirely new never-seen-before hues. The Huntress stood before him but her eyes were swimming around her face and her mouth rippled and undulated like noodles in a bowl of soup.

  The deep pit in his stomach was gone. Though he felt more than a little queasy, he also was strangely sated. As if he had eaten a large four-course meal.

  The Huntress reached out and steadied him before he realized he was about to fall.

  Everything spun and twisted around as the hallucination took hold.

  I just ate a mushroom, what did I expect? He tried to talk but his words came out slurred and strange. The Huntress replied to him but he continued not understanding a single word.

  As she laid him down onto the grass, another window appeared.

  You eat the [Allspeak Fungus].

  Language Unlocked: Common.

  You are Poisoned!

  You are Paralyzed!

  Oh, good.

  Darkness closed in around him and he heard the Huntress’s soft, lamenting voice, “…órë.” Her eyes found his, the only bright things in the darkness around. “Hlar mes’ifa? Can you hear me? What is wrong?”

  Hal tried to answer but found he no longer had control over his tongue. The last thing he remembered was the Huntress bending down to lift him into her arms as the darkness finally closed in around him.

  3

  “Are you taking your potions? You know how you get...” said a woman, her voice laced with worry and concern.

  Hal recognized that tone. It’s the one his mother used to use on him all the time when he was struggling to pick a major, unable to stay pinned down to anything for more than a year.

  It was the tone of repressed disappointment and motherly worry.

  “No, I haven’t been taking the potions, Mother,” snapped a familiar girl’s voice. It had the same musical quality as the Huntress but since he could understand her, there was no way it was her.

  Couldn’t be.

  “You go out at night into the Wilds, doing Gods know what and come back at all hours of the night - if you come back at all - and now you’ve brought this… this thing with you and expect me to do what, exactly?”

  “Heal him,” the girl’s voice took on a pleading edge. “That is what you do, is it not? The thing you’ve always been after me for? I don’t hear you complaining when I go into the Wilds and bring back medicinal herbs that keep your rich patients alive and well.”

  The silence that followed was shattered by the sharp sound of a slap.

  “How dare you throw that in my face,” the older woman said. “I have done this to put food on the table and a roof over your head. Even when you choose to sleep out in the Wilds like some common animal, just like your father used to.

  “You know the types of people that live outside of the Sanctums. Savages. Barely better than beasts. You think I don’t fear for my daughter when you go out there? Have you already forgotten what happened to your father?”

  “I-I’m sorry, Mother. I am worried. Look at him, he is sick. What does it matter where he comes from?”

  I’m sick? I mean, I was hallucinating my ash off just a bit ago. Seriously? Ash is considered bad? Whoever put this filter in place is such an ashhole. But I’m pretty sure the game prompts, the Level Up, the stats, were all real.

  As if to test the theory he thought “Status” and his stats floated in the darkness behind his eyelids.

  Yeah, thought so. Still, I can’t move so maybe I’m still paralyzed from that mushroom?

  “What is he to you?” Suspicion crept into the mother’s voice. Cold, practiced hands began to check Hal’s body. “You have never brought an outsider into the Sanctum before. You know the penalties. Why risk it, who is he?”

  “Nobody. A friend. I met him in the Wilds. He helped me fend off a couple of the Scourges.”

  The mother scoffed and started to inspect Hal’s left wrist. There was a cloth tied around the mark that hadn’t been there before. “As if you’ve ever had any help with anything. What’s this then?” She tugged at the binding.

  “I already dressed that wound!” the girl said sharply, her voice jumped several octaves in alarm. The old woman stopped tugging at the cloth. “The issue is something he ate. I think he ate a poisonous mushroom by mistake when foraging. I found a piece of it near him when I came back to camp. Here.”

  “Girl, this is no ordinary mushroom. You say he ate this?” Why did she sound so aghast? I mean, it tasted bad. It had an unpleasant texture, and it gave me a deeply unsettling trip… okay, yeah I get it.

  “I believe so.”

  Just going to pretend you didn’t point out the mushroom for me to eat, huh? If I’m not still paralyzed when your mom leaves, we’re having some words.

  “Gods above, the idiocy of men knows no bounds.” The older woman let out a gusty sigh. “If he’s not already blinded himself or become impotent I’ll be greatly surprised! Would serve him right too. Idiocy is one thing we cannot abide to spread at a time like this. Hand me the rinceroot, wheezle powder, and a pinch of asp scale.”

  Okay, I’ve had enough of this. It was all fun and games until the backwoods yokels begin putting random herbal remedies into me.

  Those cold, hard practiced hands roamed him again. Why was it that doctors or healers, or whatever they were called here, always had freezing cold hands?

  Luckily, whenever she touched a sensitive spot on him that would have had Hal howling with laughter like some four-year-old, nothing happened. He felt the same sensations but his body stayed unresponsive. Like somebody had cut the circuits between his brain and his muscles.

  A warm paste was spooned into his mouth. It tasted faintly of apples and what he assumed a pine air freshener tasted like.

  Those two things should never be mixed.

  As an added bonus, the woman thrust her cold finger into his mouth and scrubbed the disgusting paste all over his gums. The effect was slow at first but it gathered speed and spread throughout his bo
dy like wildfire.

  It was like falling asleep on your arm and waking up when that horrible pins-and-needles hit.

  Except a thousand times worse. And all over.

  The feeling came back in fits and starts.

  The old woman held him down as he started to flail and kick without much conscious thought. His eyes flew open. The woman was not nearly as old as he thought, maybe mid-forties at best.

  Still fairly pretty. Also, surprisingly strong.

  She held Hal down without much strain until his limbs came fully under his control once more. Her eyes were a watery blue and when she saw Hal’s, her hands leaped off him like he had burned her.

  The older woman made some strange sign with her hands and moved back several steps. She stared agape at Hal then at the Huntress as the blonde came to Hal’s side, her blue-gray eyes searching his. “Can you understand me?” she whispered just for him.

  Hal nodded. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows but his arms were weak. The Huntress piled up the pillows behind his back to give him something to rest against. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely, trying not to make a sour face at the paste that was still in his mouth.

  Probably be rude if I spit it out… God, I hope this isn’t topical only. Hal swallowed it down as best he could without gagging.

  “What is he?” asked the mother. Her voice shook and she would not take one step closer. “What have you brought into my house? Into the Sanctum?” Every question made her voice jump another octave until it was shrill with fear and anger.

  The Huntress gave Hal a kind smile. She did not shy away from his gaze like the healer had.

  Hal found those mysterious blue-gray eyes of hers surprisingly mesmerizing. The light seemed to bend and shift within them, they were never the exact same color when he looked at them. “Do not be afraid, Mother,” she said, keeping her eyes on Hal. “He is here to help us. I saw the Broken chase him through the woods at the edge of the Wilds.”

  The older woman blew a strand of graying dirty blonde hair out of her face and crossed her arms skeptically, but she didn’t seem quite as fearful. “I thought you said he helped you fight off a Scourge?”

  “That was after I approached him.” The Huntress looked over her shoulder at her Mother. “Anyone they hate is a friend to us. Is that not what you told me?”

  She had shed that cloak of shifting colored leaves and instead wore a simple leather vest - Hal vaguely recalled it as a jerkin - over a forest green long-sleeved shirt. There were far too many belts and pockets for his taste. He’d never find anything in it but it looked good on her. Useful.

  “Fine, but this is on your head.” She jabbed a bony finger at her daughter. “If the Magistrate finds out you’ve broken protocol, there will be a terrible price to pay. Once he’s well enough, you get him out of here. I will not harbor an outsider.”

  From where Hal laid, propped up against the pillows, he could just make out the side of the Huntress’ face. The way her eyes narrowed, the tiny muscle that jumped in her jaw under the smooth tanned skin. “Very well, I will see to him from now on then.” And though it looked like it pained her, she bowed formally to her mother. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  The look on her mother’s face was priceless. Her mouth formed a perfect O and her eyes bugged out so far they seemed like they might roll out of her head.

  Hal had the distinct impression that the Huntress had never been much for gratitude. Maybe the mother had thought she’d wash her hands of Hal as well once he was on his feet.

  Whenever he looked at the Huntress there was nothing but a bucketful of mixed signals. She had seemed to help him at first. Clearly, she had waited for him to come out from his hiding place and speak to him.

  Then she tied him up like some wild animal when he tried to help her, and then told him to go eat some poisonous mushrooms.

  That last bit may have actually paid off, not that he was sure going blind and impotent for life was worth it. He hadn’t been able to understand a dang word she had said before and now it sounded as if they were speaking English. Which he was absolutely certain they were not. He knew their language.

  Common, if he remembered the prompt correctly.

  Gretilda finally declared him fit enough to get the heck out of her house. “After supper,” she added before throwing on a cobalt-blue cloak and vanishing out the door.

  Gretilda’s place was cozy, with stone walls, a roaring fireplace, and clean furnishings. The type of thing you’d see in a medieval reenactment with a few added cushions and creature comforts that always seemed to be missing in his opinion.

  Before Hal could say anything, the Huntress rounded on him and held out an accusatory finger. “Before my mother gets back, we need to go over a few things.”

  Hal shut his mouth with an audible click. Patience may not have been one of his virtues but he could try. New world, new me.

  “First, do not show anybody that mark on your wrist. Keep it covered. Always. Second, you can understand me because you ate an allspeak mushroom. It let you understand Common, the language most people speak.

  “And third, until we are alone you should keep quiet and do as I say. There are dangerous people constantly seeking somebody like you out, and if they find you, you will beg for death.”

  For a moment Hal let all that settle in. “Wow, all right. That’s a lot to unpack. I’m going to need some answers. First, who are you? Why did you save me? Why do you care what I do or don’t do and why are you lying to your mom about me?”

  Her eyes flicked back and forth from one of Hal’s brown eyes to the other as if she could read something within. As much as it unnerved him, he forced himself to keep his eyes locked on hers.

  “My name is Elora. I saved you because you were chased by the Broken and I wanted to see why. Now I know.” She jerked her chin towards the hidden mark on his left wrist. “Which makes you important.

  “You clearly aren’t from around here, the mark much makes that obvious. But I care because I saved you and... because you just might be my only chance at a life outside of the oppressive rule of the Founder. For many more than just me. Do you have a name?”

  You have unlocked Persuasion (Level 0).

  All civilizations are founded on the principles of compromise. You have taken the first steps along the road of making sure that others compromise more than you.

  Your Persuasion has risen to Level 1.

  +1% Persuasion success (1%).

  +0.5% Antagonistic persuasion success (0.5%).

  “It’s Hal. And you still haven’t said why you’re lying to your mom.”

  Elora pursed her lips, her eyes glittering. A warning to Hal that he was pushing into dangerous territory. Hal met her gaze and found it a little easier this time to hold it. He’d been bullied and let everybody else tell him what he should be all his life and it had made him miserable.

  He wasn’t going to let that happen again.

  “Fine,” she finally said, throwing up her hands. “My mother is a good woman - mostly. She’s a Healer if you haven’t already caught on to that. But she doesn’t like to rock the boat.

  “She’s eked out a nice life for herself in Sanctum-Fallwreath. If she learned the truth about you, I don’t know what she’d do and you are too important to risk letting her determine your fate.”

  Hal got up on wobbly legs and forced himself to pace back and forth in the small living room. “What’s a Sanctum? I’ve heard you both talk about it and while I understand the word, I’m getting the feeling like this is a contextual thing. And why would I wish I was dead if somebody caught me for having this… thing on my arm.” He motioned sharply at his bandaged forearm.

  “I don’t have time to get into a history lesson with you right now, she could come back at any moment. Do you have walls for your cities where you’re from?”

  Hal shrugged one shoulder. “Older ones, maybe.” He couldn’t exactly remember anything other than some of the old castle towns in Europe having
walls around them.

  “Well, a Sanctum is like that. They are safe. That is all you need to know right now. And as for your other question, you’re a threat to them. You surely have people with immense power and influence where you’re from?”

  Hal nodded.

  “Right. So, imagine what one of those people would do if a completely defenseless future threat, a future king showed up on their doorstep?” Elora made a dismissive gesture at Hal.

  “I think I’m beginning to understand,” he said. Though, understanding and believing were two very different things. Hal was just about to ask about the prompts and the game-like nature of them when a loud thumping came from the door.

  Elora’s face fell. “No,” she whispered, her voice strangled with disbelief. “She wouldn’t.”

  Before Hal could ask what she was talking about, the door exploded into flinders and several heavily armored soldiers with white and green livery poured into the room.

  4

  Hal’s arm was nearly wrenched from the socket as Elora pulled him into the adjoining room and slammed the door behind them. It had shelf upon shelf of potions. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling in bunches, giving the air a medicinal scent.

  Still holding Hal’s hand, Elora jumped and grabbed a dangling cord he hadn’t seen among the herbs. A sliding ladder dropped into place at her feet. “Up,” she commanded, pushing him up to the ladder. “Go. The door won’t hold for long but it’s stronger than the front door!”

  Hal hurried up the ladder. The door was being banged on but it barely seemed to move despite being far thinner than what the front door had been.

  I’ll add it to the list of things that don’t make sense around here.

  The second floor was filled with covered furniture and various crates with a small round window at either end. Elora was up through the ladder in seconds. She hopped past him and snatched a fistful of his flannel, dragging him along in a stumbling gait.