150 XP Earned (cumulative)
You have slain a Level 5 Goblin Scout.
Yay. You got your first kill, and I got a story to share with my therapist.
300 XP Earned
How long Peter stabbed the goblin, he couldn’t say. Eventually, an iron grip clamped around his wrist, easily stopping his assault. Peter looked up with wild eyes, only to discover Eliza looming over him.
“Peter!” she shouted. “You need to stop mangling that corpse and help me if you want Beth to live!”
“She’s… alive?” Peter said, his brain reluctantly coming back to reality.
“Not for much longer if we don’t hurry. I need your help.”
“Right…” Peter said, the battle fog slowly lifting. “Right. What do you need me to do?”
“Get to the goblin camp and gather every spear you can find, then bring them to me.”
There was no need to respond. Peter leapt off the goblin’s corpse and sprinted into the camp.
All the goblins were dead. There were only three corpses, one of whom was much bigger than the others. It had an arrow clean through its skull. Apparently size hadn’t helped it much. The other two had been felled with only three more arrows, a testament to Eliza’s clinical skill with the bow.
Racing around the camp, Peter gathered every spear he could find. There were four, but the two on the ground beside the leader were significantly thicker than the others. It was awkward to carry them all, but Peter wasted no time sprinting back to where Beth had fallen. His path took him past the goblin he’d killed, and he had to fight back a wave of nausea at the sight. In his rage, he had nearly decapitated the creature. Everything from the chest upwards was a pulped mess. It was hard to reconcile that he was the agent of such a gruesome act.
When Peter reached his fallen wife, he saw that Eliza had hacked the spear off in Beth’s back, leaving only a nub that projected out by a hand’s length. She had also stacked a bunch of hemlock boughs next to her for some reason.
“Good,” Eliza said when Peter returned. “Take the skinnier spears and snap them in thirds.” Without watching to see if Peter understood, she took the larger spears and lay them on the ground about half a metre apart, crossing them at one end so that they ended up looking like a V with nubs at the bottom. Then she grabbed the longest broken piece of spear Peter had created—he’d needed to break them with his foot against a log—and laid it near the widest part of the V.
Grabbing a ball of twine from her pack, Eliza quickly began to lash the wood together. Her hands moved with such expertise and precision that Peter even got a Skill notification and, to his surprise, a boost in Renown.
NEW GENERAL SKILL LEARNED!
Rope Use – Skill Level 8 (Tier-0)
Howdy pardner! Y’all done some farm work… mebbe you can wrangle up a new filly if this one don’t pull through.
Err… too soon?
*Since this Skill predates your arrival in Arenia, it has been set at a level commensurate with the practical ability you already possess.
400 XP Earned (cumulative)
RENOWN LEVEL UP!
Level 6 Achieved
XP: 5,400
XP to next Renown: 2,000
Eliza spared a glance at Peter before refocusing on her work.
“This will go faster if I do it,” she said. “If you want to help, go cut the right ear off each of the goblins. The one with notches in it. Make sure you get them all—there was a second sentry in the woods just north of camp.”
“Bounties?” Peter said, incredulous that she could think of money at a time like this.
“Something like that.”
“But—”
“Are you going to listen to the woman who’s trying to save your wife’s life or not?” Eliza snapped. Chagrined, Peter headed back to the camp. “And get my sword!” she shouted at his retreating form.
Peter scrambled back to the camp and set to the grizzly work. It didn’t take long, disturbing as it was. The ear from the goblin he’d killed was pretty mangled, but he cut it off anyway, not knowing the purpose of the ears to begin with. With a shove, he jammed the hard, green appendages into his pack and hurried back to Eliza and Beth.
During his absence, Eliza had lashed the thicker spears together where they crossed over at the tip of the V, then lashed the broken spears crosswise to create a stable triangular platform. She’d then covered the entire thing in the hemlock boughs to create a makeshift stretcher.
Together, Peter and Eliza carefully lifted Beth onto the stretcher, keeping her face-down, with the sawed-off spear poking skyward out of her back.
“Peter…” Beth whispered. He hurried to her and held her hand. When she felt him there, she gave a small smile. “I don’t feel so good, honey. Think I got stung by a bee.”
He smiled back at her. “Yeah. Big bee. The stinger’s still in there, so we’re gonna take care of it. You try and stay awake.”
“M’kay,” Beth said before promptly passing out.
Eliza waved Peter to the small end of the stretcher while she took the wider handles where the bulk of Beth’s weight would lie.
“Shouldn’t I—” Peter started.
“No, you shouldn’t,” Eliza said. “I have a hell of a lot higher Strength score than you, no matter what appearances suggest. Don’t judge by appearances in Arenia, or it could be the end of you. You just follow, look out for roots, and try to keep up.”
Much to Peter’s surprise, Eliza broke into a jog. He was able to keep up, barely, but he was deeply concerned about jostling Beth. He had faith in Eliza’s judgment, though. If the Ranger thought speed was more important than stability, there had to be a good reason.
For the first 15 minutes of the trip, Beth would fidget and moan. For the second 15 minutes, she stopped fidgeting and simply moaned. By the time a half-hour had passed, she wasn’t even moaning anymore. Peter was deeply concerned that she’d died, but if she was alive, stopping to check would only be harmful. So they ran.
Another 10 minutes went by. Peter’s legs screamed at him, and his arms ached, especially where the muscles were lacerated from the goblin’s knife. The only time they stopped was when Peter voiced concern that the blood on his hands would cause his fingers to slip. Eliza’s solution was to lash Peter’s good hand to the stretcher so that he wouldn’t drop it. Now they were white from a lack of blood flow, and his grip had almost given out completely. But Peter wouldn’t stop or complain. He would collapse dead on the ground before he gave up on Beth.
Endurance +1
Sure, your wife got stabbed through the back with a spear, but you’ve spent years stabbing yourself in the heart with cheeseburgers. It’s 50/50 as to which of those things is going to kill someone tonight.
They continued all the way to the far side of the bowl, never slowing their pace despite the darkening night and miserable conditions. Peter’s mind began to dissociate, simply focusing on getting one step in front of the other. So it was that when Eliza finally ordered a halt, she had to shout at him several times to get him to stop.
Peter stumbled and nodded blankly, then looked around.
They were just below a small pass in the hills. Tall green grasses and birch trees grew to either side of the path, and unlike most of their journey, they were now on an actual trail. Peter followed Eliza’s directions and deposited Beth to the side of the path. The older woman darted into the bushes, disappearing to god-knows-where while Peter used his teeth to work at the knots that held him bound to the stretcher.
As soon as he got himself free, he slid up next to his wife, unable to muster the energy to stand.
“Come on, honey,” he whispered. He felt at her throat. There was a pulse, but it was so weak. “You can do it. Just hold on a bit longer, okay? We need you.”
It felt like forever for Eliza to return. When she did arrive, she was carrying a large bag in one hand and a full quiver in the other. Dropping to her knees beside Beth, Eliza dumped the contents of the bag o
n the ground, rummaging through them until she found a small blue bottle. It looked like the health potion Peter had taken when he first got to Arenia, but lacked the odd swirling.
Eliza held up the vial and looked seriously at Peter. “We only get one chance here. I have a mild healing spell, but it’s not enough to close a wound like this. That’s why I left the spear in—to prevent bleeding. The problem is, Beth won’t heal with that spear in her, so I’m going to pull it out and immediately cast my spell. Hopefully, that will be enough to keep her alive while you administer the healing potion. Understood?”
“How do I get her to drink? She’s unconscious,” Peter said.
“Use this,” she said, handing a small bag to Peter. “Just hold it under her nose and she’ll wake up.”
Peter looked at the bag and took a whiff, reeling back immediately. “Oof, smelling salts. Got it.”
“Salt? Why would someone… never mind,” Eliza said. “On the count of three. One… two… three!”
Eliza yanked the spear out of Beth’s back and immediately mumbled something under her breath, a soft golden glow emanating from her hand and sinking into Beth’s torn flesh. As soon as the spell went to work, Beth’s eyebrows pulled together and she started mumbling something, but Peter shoved the smelling salts under her nose, snapping her eyes fully open.
“What…?” Beth whispered, looking at Peter. Then her eyes widened. “Oh, god… it hurts…”
“Drink,” Peter said, shoving the potion against her lips. Beth tried to pull away, but Peter was insistent. “Drink! It’s a health potion, just like when I nearly died. Please, please, you have to drink it!”
The words somehow seeped through Beth’s fading consciousness, and she allowed him to feed her the potion. Peter tilted it back, resisting the urge to dump it all into her mouth immediately, knowing that would only result in her spitting it out.
When the potion was fully consumed, Peter lay her head back down on the dirt, watching her eyes close as she returned to sleep.
“Did it work?” Peter asked. He’d expected the same kind of miraculous healing he’d experienced, but it didn’t look like anything was happening.
Looking at Eliza, he saw that she was smiling.
“Yes, it worked,” she said. “A healing potion like that takes time though. She’ll sleep through the night while she heals, and she’ll probably have some soreness in those muscles for a long time to come. Meanwhile, we’ll make camp and give her a fire to stay warm.”
The thought made Peter nervous. “Isn’t a fire risky? I don’t want to bring in any more goblins.”
Eliza shook her head. “We covered a lot of ground in that run. We’re close enough to Palmyre that we should be able to risk a small fire without calling up trouble. And if we do, well, this old gal has a lot of surprises. Never attack a Ranger at her cache.”
Peter cocked his head. “Wait, what? We’re close to Palmyre?”
Eliza grinned. “Yep. If you climb to the top of the pass there, you’d be able to see the lights from here.
It was an enticing prospect, even with the ragged state Peter was in, but he shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He picked up Beth’s hand and held it. “I think I’ll wait to see it with my wife.”
Chapter 19
Death as Life
In the two days since Jack arrived at the Chian’dir village, he hadn’t been left alone for an instant. Hell, he didn’t even get to leave the hut unless it was for communal meals or to relieve himself.
Then, only moments ago, ominous drums had begun booming through the treetops. As soon as they sounded, Canus bolted out of the room with nothing more than a command that Jack wasn’t to leave the hut on pain of death. Which was fine by Jack—what he wanted to do didn’t require leaving the hut.
As soon as Canus was gone, Jack called up his Tome and grabbed the old diary out of midair. Something weird was going on, and best he could tell, this book was his only chance at discovering what it was.
It only took a moment for Jack to see that a whole bunch of pages had been added to his Tome, most of which were nothing more than a bunch of numbers that made no sense. He ignored those. Then his eye fell on a tab labelled “Abilities.” It seemed somewhat promising, so he opened the section and read its contents.
ABILITIES
YOU WALK IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH. TEMPORARY ABILITIES GAINED:
ANY LAST WORDS (temporary)
Death comes for us all. Upon witnessing the death of a sentient creature according to its own cultural beliefs, as a direct consequence of the creature’s personal choice, or through natural causes, you gain fluency in that creature’s primary language.*
*This does not allow you to utilize languages where your biology prevents you from speaking or understanding the language learned.
SPEAK WITH THE DYING (temporary)
Your proximity to Death allows you to commune with a dying creature even if they are unconscious.*
*When using “Speak with the Dying,” you are considered fluent in that creature’s language. Biological limitations do not apply. Target must be fluent in at least one language.
DEUS EX MACHINA
A one-time boon granted by Verna as compensation for that dumbass Carl’s screw-up when you were sent to Arenia. Verna will decide what it looks like when she finally gets through all this Carl-induced paperwork. Gods, Verna hates Carl almost as much as she hates writing about herself in the 3rd person.
THREAT ASSESSMENT
The constant grind of war has given you the ability to deduce information about hostile targets and their potential weaknesses.
Requirement: Minimum 300 days of military service in combat conditions.
Jack stared at the book. What the hell is this crap? Walk in the Shadow of Death? Was he mid-heart-attack when they brought him to this place or something? That didn’t seem right. The abilities were labelled as temporary, after all. But if they were temporary, what was the trigger that would make them go away? They seemed handy, if a bit weird. Well, maybe not that last one. If it was referring to that fake war movie blather he’d gotten with the coyote, he could do without it.
Something strange was going on. From where Jack was sitting, he could see no tie between the temporary abilities and that deal he’d made with the lawyer. There had to be something else at play. Unless this was the compensation that space lady mentioned? If so, it was a pretty raw deal to only get something temporary.
Footsteps sounded on the walkway outside Canus’ hut, and Jack dismissed his Tome just as Kaeso stepped through the curtained doorway.
“Come with me,” she said.
Jack got to his feet and followed the Chian’dir elder outside. It was raining, but the weather didn’t seem to bother her, nor did Jack let it bother him. The elder led him into the trees’ highest reaches, their path taking them across several rope bridges that she traversed with a fluidity that exceeded even the nimblest of scouts. She didn’t wait for Jack on the other side, either, but she did slow her pace to ensure that he didn’t lose her on the way. The general message was clear, though: Hurry your ass up.
There was no talking as Kaeso led Jack across the village in a no-nonsense, direct path to their destination, with only one curious deviation. That happened when they passed a large platform that was ingeniously suspended between several trees. The platform had the feeling of some sort of meeting place, with sloping seating for viewing that ringed the central area like an amphitheatre. There were only three occupants in the space; two warriors and one heavily injured, frantic scout who was being dragged towards a large hole in the centre of the amphitheatre floor. When the warriors got to the hole, they unceremoniously tossed the scout in, his screams echoing for more than five seconds before cutting off with a distant thud.
The whole affair occurred without Kaeso or the warriors acknowledging each other. Still, there was no doubt: The incident was prearranged to show Jack that the manner of his capture had been investigated, and they’d decid
ed Jack was telling the truth. Whatever that meant for Jack’s fate was still unknown, but it was certainly better than the alternative.
Eventually, Kaeso led Jack to what he suspected was the highest point in the entire tree village. There were no more huts up here, just small rooms set into the trees themselves, almost as though they’d grown that way. Some of the rooms had a single warrior and elder stationed outside the door, but most of them were empty.
One of them was different, though. This one had many elders outside, and the only warrior present was Canus. They soon noticed Kaeso and Jack’s approach, and he immediately picked up on the sombre mood.
“Kaeso, Jack,” Canus said, nodding to them each in turn.
The elders looked at Jack with wary suspicion. Jack raised an eyebrow to Canus, who shrugged as if to say, “I don’t know why you’re here either.”
One elder stepped forward. Her hair had lost any traces of yellow, replaced entirely by silver, and the remaining red hair had lost its lustre. It was hard to tell age with something as alien as the Chian’dir, but the elder looked ancient. Probably older than Jack was.
“You are the human named Jack,” the elder said. “I am Novus.” She gestured to the door of the hut. “Two days ago, Pash began the Rebirth. He has since stalled, his body resisting the change. If he does not progress soon, he will die.”
“He was not ready,” one of the other elders snapped.
“These things are never certain,” Kaeso said calmly. “Pash had no chance of surviving his wound. The flesh had festered, and his blood was poisoned. Rebirth heals all wounds; restores all limbs. His actions in battle earned him the right to try, regardless of his chance for success.”
Arrival: Legends of Arenia Book 1 (A LitRPG Story) Page 24
