Then the creature was on its back, still flailing. A large form crouched in front of it. Me’Almah, exhausted or wounded. Did she even have a weapon? There had to be something else I could do. I could make wands, but what about something bigger, more useful? I pushed my way upward from the group, searching for the proper tree branch.
All I could do was hope none of the other players were below as the base of the branch disintegrated.
Finding my way back to the ground—which is harder than you’d think without a sense of gravity—I discovered a hopeful scene. One member of the party was moving methodically near the creature as it struggled and then fell still, trapped under what must have been my tree branch. The others were still gathered in a group, but around the one I figured to be Me’Almah. She must have been hurt.
Double-checking that the creature’s struggles had stopped, I started funneling mana into Varba for whatever heals she might have. She didn’t cast though, so I took the hint and stopped. After a few breathless moments on my part, the huddle of bodies split apart and Me’Almah stood, though she was clearly not alright. I could feel from her stance and sense from her gait that she was injured. Mac and the dwarf man Slynx supported her as she limped over to the large shape and gave it a kick.
It was a slower journey from then on, and I began to fade in and out as I waited for them between wands. When they finally reached the cache’s location, they stood silently as I exploded one wand, waited, and then exploded another. I was grateful that it only took shattering three of the wands before they caught on and began digging to find the others.
When they finally unearthed the cache, I was overjoyed. Each ring was only +1% to Mana Regen, but the necklace was double that, and I’d managed to eke the wand up to +5%. +9% Mana Regen should allow Varba to cast considerably more often. Sure enough, she was the one to don the necklace and assume the wand. She began casting right away as I drifted back to my body to sleep.
The next day followed a similar pattern. Unknowingly, Mjorn was giving me exactly what I needed by allowing me all this time to craft and enchant. Both he and his band seemed to be getting progressively more haggard and agitated though. They would leave the camp at all hours of the day, heading in all directions. Sometimes they came back with supplies for me to craft or make potions with, and other times they’d return empty-handed. I got the feeling they were looking for something but not finding it.
Fortunately, none of them seemed to want to give me the time of day, and so I repeated my tasks largely unmolested. Mjorn seemed pleased that my skills were increasing, and especially that my Enchanting was growing stronger. I was baffled as to why he cared so much; he certainly hadn’t had any nice things to say when he’d learned that Charisma enchantments were out of the question.
I was able to “lose” three sets of wands and necklaces that day, but it exhausted me. I was grateful when night came that I didn’t have to feed stored mana into Varba. The trip still went slowly though. They had an entire day of travel to make up, and Me’Almah didn’t appear to be in much better shape than she had been the previous night. She moved quickly, but I could sense that it pained her.
By night’s end they had acquired all but the last necklace and wand pair, and it was time to plan for the rescue itself, as well as how to communicate that plan to the party. Mjorn’s caravan had 14 members, by my count, ranging from the Level 6 dwarf woman who had taught me how to skin, to Mjorn and Remaldra themselves, who were Level 11 and 12, respectively. If the others were going to mount a rescue it was not going to be by brute force.
The one thing the rescue party did have up on my captors was their spells. It seemed having access to them was a rarity for NPCs, and so the fact that all five of them where casters might give us an edge. Maddeningly though, my UI didn’t show me any detail on what spells the party might have access to, aside from the Bind spell that I myself had. From what I could extrapolate from Mac’s spells, they likely each had a simple, purely elemental spell, and perhaps a long-range version of the same. Anything beyond that would be pure speculation.
Having no pencil or paper, I considered my options. I could carve a note in a tree, but that risked discovery. I could write on a piece of leather with some charcoal from the fire, but that had the same downside. I considered arranging rocks or twigs to spell something out, but that would mean a day’s delay before they read the message, and a response would be impossible. Finally, I struck upon the solution.
Immensely pleased with myself, I returned to the party and found a tree with a nice wide trunk. Once my work was complete, I found a nearby twig to pop, and brought the party running. After a flare of Light magic, I assumed them to be reading my message. Spells?
I had inscribed the message using a tiny flow to disintegrate the bark. Now I just had to rely on Mac to figure out some way to talk back. The gathered group stood still for several long seconds, and then one rushed back to their fire before returning with a very familiar bundle. Wands! They must have had nearly fifty, gathered from before I had found them two nights prior. Each party member took part of the bundle and set to work arranging the wands on the ground.
IGNITE FBALL SHLD. Perfect, leave it to Mac to have already learned her third tier spells.
PSN + CURE BLND HOT SEEFAR FIXCUT AURA. From previous games I knew HOT meant “heal over time,” a spell that played out over a set period rather than applying their effect all at once. These must be Varba’s Light spells. Interesting to see Poison there.
FASTRUN NOSTAM FAKESND. I couldn’t even guess at the element. Most made sense, but NOSTAM was a bit confusing. No damage spells though. I hoped they would start racking some up soon.
BLIND NOSTRCON RAISEDED SEEDARK. Those must be the Dark ones. Lots of status effects it seemed. Nostrcon? It took a moment to figure it meant “No Strength and Constitution” but, like NOSTAM before it, I had no idea how the spell would actually play out.
HELPSTAND GRAVEL DUSTCLD. Earth spells. It looked like a few more spells that might do damage, but it seemed as if the majority of what they had were buffs and debuffs. With five separate elemental classes present, the party had planned well before starting the game. Each had chosen a different class of spells when creating their characters.
A frontal assault wouldn’t work, but a stealth rescue wasn’t possible either. After all, Mjorn had that damn Bracelet of Control. If we couldn’t get it off of him, they might as well be rescuing a statue. That meant we’d need to pull Mjorn away from the caravan and then get the bracelet from him. Since he was Level 11, I didn’t know the feasibility of beating him in a head-on fight, even with all six of us, but as the spell names rolled in, a plan began to form in my mind. We would have one chance, and if we failed, Mjorn would probably stop letting me live through the nights.
I traced out the details of the plan over the long minutes it took to write them on the trunk, with the party reading and asking questions using the wands. After an hour or so, we were ready.
Chapter 17
In the morning, Mjorn was in a foul mood, to the extent that I was awoken by the sound of his and Remaldra’s raised voices while they argued in their wagon. When Mjorn stormed out, slamming the door behind him, my heart sank. He was heading for me.
Scrambling to my feet, I struggled to keep control of my rising panic while simultaneously looking subservient.
“I suppose your miserable carcass is it, troll. She’ll have to make do with one broken cur instead of a purebred pack," he spat, his finger in my face. “You had better at least be able to fetch a full price!”
My mask of calm slipped. “Wait, you’re planning on selling me?” I asked, alarmed. “To whom?”
“We were hoping to scoop up a whole passel of you ‘players’ during the first few days, but it looks like those Kalsip bastards had things all figured out. It makes sense that a runt like you would slip through their net, but there’s no benefit to us in keeping you. Not now that we’re so close.”
“Close to what?”
I asked, nervous of his answer.
He grinned, my discomfort apparently easing his mood, and he tapped the side of his nose. “No need to fret, troll; she’ll make good use of you. Now get to work. We don’t have long to get our share of you, such as we’re able. Plus, the more skilled you are, the easier it will be to convince her to offer a fair price.” He brandished his dagger. “And don’t think to shirk. She won’t mind if a few bits are missing.”
Not doubting his willingness to make good on his word, I scuttled off to complete my tasks, though I had to pause for a moment on reaching my wagon to ask Mac to hurry the rescue party. We had planned the rescue for that night, but it sounded like that might be too late.
In ethereal form, I swept through the forest looking for the party. At this point they were simply following the tracks of the wagon wheels. They didn’t take long to find, but when I found them my heart dropped.
Instead of the five medium-sized “bumps” I expected to find along the path, my senses ran across something bigger. My mind jumped first to the creature they had fought the night before, but this was much, much larger. Moving more slowly in order to examine the shape, I realized that this wasn’t one large creature. It was a group of smaller creatures, the largest of which I moved in closer to examine.
From my initial pass, I thought I had found Me’Almah. Tall, orc, woman. Discovering all this by touch made my distant body blush. But it wasn’t Me’Almah. This woman was bigger still, and her face was scarred, her head shaved smooth. She sat off the ground on… something. It seemed to have too many legs, and it took me precious time to determine that the orc and the creature she was riding were separate, rather than some centaur-like hybrid.
Still, I was in a rush, and so I left her mount unexamined. Sorting the rest of the figures into more distinct shapes, I realized that there were nearly thirty others surrounding a tightly packed group of five. I picked out the smaller forms of a goblin and a gnome, and guessed who that was. They were holding steady together, but as I felt the ropes binding their hands to saddles, my hopes of rescue came crashing down.
A line of hot pain drew itself across my arm.
Gasping, I jumped back to my body to find Mjorn’s face once again in mine. Spittle flecked my face as he spoke. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, troll, but I do know it’s a waste of my time.” He gestured at my arm, where my entire forearm was red with dripping blood. I checked my status frantically and saw that I did have a Bleeding debuff, but it wouldn’t be life threatening. “That’s to remind you of my promise. The next time I take your ear. Now, get back to work!”
Despair was welling up inside me. My hopes from the night before had been entirely dashed, and things had turned out to be worse than I’d ever imagined. No rescue was coming now, and I was about to be sold to someone even Mjorn feared, if the agitated behavior of the troupe was anything to go by. I was going to be trapped without spells, without mana, for… I really had no idea for how long. The developers still hadn’t found me to help fix my character’s issues. Maybe they wouldn’t. Maybe they couldn’t, since I didn’t even have the help menu. It was hopeless.
It wasn’t long after that the carts began to move. The slats on the side of the wagon that had shielded me from scrutiny the last few days now made the cart feel less like a sanctuary and more like a prison. Not wanting to risk any more interactions with Mjorn, I got to work enchanting, setting my whole mind to it in an attempt to avoid thinking about my predicament.
So engrossed was I in my work that I didn’t notice the landscape transforming, the vibrant foliage of the forest giving way to something very different. Tree limbs that had sheltered the road with a murmuring canopy now splayed empty fingers against a sky that was less blue than it should have been, and the clamor of forest life had given way to an uncanny silence. The only sound to be heard was the clop of horse hooves and the creak of wagon wood.
Reaching for the edge of the cart, I pulled myself up to look over the edge. The forest seemed a basic, winterized version of itself, only with no snow and no chill. The trees were bare, and whereas the floor of the forest that morning had been scattered with low-lying shrubs and leaf mulch, the ground here looked to have been swept clean. I shivered in spite of the summer air. There was no life here.
The caravan didn’t stop for an afternoon break, but the few in charge of the food simply bundled meals hurriedly to each of the travellers. I must have earned enough of Mjorn’s ire not to warrant any. It was afternoon before I began to hear rumbling in the distance that outmatched my stomach. The sound swiftly converged on the caravan.
Down the path behind us came a veritable horde of riders. Expecting more of an outcry, I was surprised when voices from the rear wagons simply shouted “Huth'Ga’s!” and the wagons slowed to a stop.
I was startled from my examination of the approaching riders by Mjorn grabbing my lapel and yanking me off of my perch at the back of the wagon. Even as I struggled to find my footing, he set about angrily brushing at my clothes.
Remaldra clicked her tongue behind him. “A shame we cannot beat a use into him. Perhaps Huth'Ga will keep him as a convenient morsel in case she hungers.”
“She could keep him as a damned footstool, for all I care. I, for one, will be glad to be rid of the nuisance," Mjorn grunted. I was ashamed to note that I still moved in and out of being attracted to him. He had cut me—literally killed me—and still the sight of him stirred appetites buried deep under the fear. Even so, as he hauled me toward the rear of the caravan, fear had no problem reasserting its primacy.
The group of riders resolving from the dust of the path put Mjorn to shame in the intimidation department. Each rider was settled on the back of a nearly eight-foot long mixture of a cockroach and a scorpion, with a daddy long-legs spider thrown in for kicks. Thick black and brown armor covered the mounts’ backs, and their legs reached nearly five feet out to each side. It was the mouths I was focused on, however. They rested right around midsection height as they marched toward us, and I couldn’t help but imagine what they might do to a midsection if they were to meet one. My gut clenched involuntarily.
So appalled was I by the segmented horrors coming toward us, that I didn’t even notice Mjorn’s tugs as I stumbled along in his grip. The riders moved through the forest in a loose horde, with each rider skittering smoothly around trees and over dips in the ground. The legs of their mounts wouldn’t allow more than two of them to ride abreast between the large trunks.
I began to pull back against Mjorn’s grip as the closest riders neared us, instinctively shying away from the monstrous mounts. My brain didn’t even bother reminding me that what I was seeing wasn’t technically real. It was too centrally focused on the constantly moving mandibles that spun and swept over grasping jaws.
I was so preoccupied by the giant insects that I had missed their riders, who now pulled their mounts to a halt before us. This must have been the orc woman I'd sensed earlier in the day. And indeed, there was Mac and her party, mounted between a squadron of orcs that were clearly there to make sure they couldn't escape. In spite of everything, I felt a thrill on seeing Mac. The sight of her face—stormy as it was—nearly moved me to tears. She sat astride her insect abomination as though she meant to be there, though the effect was a bit marred by Katz’s arms wrapped around her middle. Shaking her head slightly when she saw me looking, she intimated that I shouldn’t let on that we knew each other.
The lead orc’s scorpion mount lowered its body to the ground to facilitate her dismounting, and Mjorn stepped forward to meet her, never relaxing his grip on my robes. “Hail, Huth'Ga! Be welcome to our caravan!” he proclaimed as the woman and the two warriors flanking her approached.
Huth'Ga didn’t seem as interested in repartee. “I see you, Mjorn. Where are the players?”
Mjorn’s mouth worked soundlessly as he searched for additional pleasantries, but found none. “Alas, the woods yielded less quarry than we had hoped, kind mistress. We scou
red them for days, but were only able to find this one.” He pulled me forward and began brushing nervously at my clothes again. “He can craft, work leather and enchantments, and has a strange magic.“
Huth'Ga’s eyes widened in anger. “One?” she repeated. “You spent an entire week wandering a forest filled with players ripe for the picking, and you found one?”
Mjorn’s grip on my robes tightened in the face of her displeasure, but not with anger. I could feel his hand shaking. “We scoured them, milady. Every day, for the entire week. They simply kept too close to the city! We couldn't risk alerting Kalsip to our presence or we would have had nothing to bring you!”
Huth'Ga snorted. “And what have you brought me? A child in a pretty dress? Leatherworkers and crafters I have in spades, and even a player with enchanting skills cannot make up singly for the multiple players you were hired to retrieve. You cannot think to return to our lands without the goods you promised and retain our gold!” The two warriors flanking Huth'Ga glowered, baring their tusks and settling oversized hands on weapons.
Throwing up his hands to forestall them, Mjorn pleaded his case. “Please, my ladies, please! Let me show you the goods he can produce. You have not seen their like!” And with that, he left me there and scrambled for the cart I had been riding in to fetch an armful of the enchanted items I had produced. Sprinting back to the orcs, he presented them with the items one at a time, first a ring, then a necklace, and then finally a wand.
Huth'Ga scowled, but took the items, examining and then passing them to her retinue. That was, until Mjorn handed her the wand. After a moment of examination, she broke into a fit of guttural laughter, causing Remaldra, Mjorn, and I to jump. “I don’t yet know what this one has to offer me, Mjorn, but it appears he has already served us both as bait!”
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