Then Jack stepped through the arch.
There was a moment of disorientation, followed by a jerking sensation that made Jack feel as though he were being dragged upwards at rapid speed. When his eyes snapped open, he was back in the room with Sextus.
“What did you do?” the old warrior asked. “You closed your eyes and have not moved for nearly an hour.”
Jack removed his hands from Pash’s writhing form and wiped them off on one of the pallet’s few dry spots. “I had a chat with the kid. Whether it helps is up to him. Or maybe he’s not supposed to be Reborn. Either way, that’s the best I’ve got.”
“You can Speak with the Dying?” Sextus said, his eyes going wide. “I thought only the priests of Nochd could do such a thing, and it has been generations since one last visited us.”
Jack shrugged. “No idea why I can do it. There’s not a hell of a lot I do understand about this place.”
The grub-like form of Pash suddenly arched its back, nearly falling off the pallet until Sextus raced forward and stabilized him. Then the scout’s body went slack, lying totally still. Sextus put his ear to Pash’s chest, his eyes narrowing.
“The scout heart slows,” he said. “Its beats are fading—soon, we will know if he survives.” The caretaker slid the drum next to him and withdrew a mallet from his jacket. He beat on the drum loudly, mirroring the rhythm of Pash’s heart. Jack knew that those on the walkway outside were listening to the rhythm in tense anticipation.
Jack wandered over to the woody wall of the hut and leaned against it, his arms crossed as he awaited the verdict. He was rooting for the young scout to survive, but if not, such was life. Jack had done his best.
“Soon,” Sextus said. His rhythmic beating of the drum slowed, its sound fading into weaker notes until finally, it stopped altogether.
A deep silence settled over the room. No noise filtered in from outside as those gathered on the walkway held their breaths in anticipation. Nearly five seconds of uninterrupted silence passed, and Jack could see the worry on Sextus’s face. Then the old warrior’s face split into a toothy grin, and he erupted in a complex pounding of the drum that sent the rhythm of a warrior’s dual hearts reverberating out of the room. Outside on the walkway there was an eruption of hooting noises and the sound of at least one chest being beaten, followed by one of the elders calling out to the village that a new Warrior had been born. That announcement was met by fainter cheers that were only audible when the curtain was pushed aside by Novus and two younger elders who carried drums of their own. They knelt on either side of Pash, each one placing a hand on his chest as they seamlessly took over Sextus’ rhythmic pounding. The old warrior immediately scooted back to Pash’s head and grabbed his basket of meat, shovelling hunks of flesh into Pash’s ravenous, toothy mouth.
Novus looked at Jack and bared her teeth in a Chian’dir smile. “You are fortunate that Pash survived, human Jack. If he hadn’t, your death would be a certainty. Now there will at least be a discussion on the matter.”
“There is no fortune in the matter, Elder Novus,” Sextus said, not looking up from his duties. “We both know Pash was lost to us, but Jack Spoke with the Dying. Whatever was said between them brought Pash through Nochd’s domain and back to us.”
The elder’s head whipped over to Jack. “You can Speak with the Dying?”
“Apparently,” Jack said, shrugging.
“But… that means…” she got a horrified look, and the hair around her head flashed in a wild movement of colour. “Forgive me, we had no idea you were a priest of Nochd!”
“Whoah, hang on now,” Jack said, holding up his hands. “When I look at my diary—that Tome thingy—it says the Ability is temporary. I don’t want to misrepresent myself.”
“It does not matter. You are someone who has caught the attention of Nochd.” She shook her head. “We must think on this. Will you stay with us for at least one more night?”
“Does that mean I’m not a prisoner anymore?”
“Of course you are not!” Novus said. “We cannot risk running afoul of Nochd. He means everything to us. Whatever path you are walking, we will not stand in your way.”
Jack considered her offer. Given the nature of Arenia, he was hardly at greater risk in the village than he was wandering the wilds. Sure, he needed to find his way to Palmyre, but maybe the Chian’dir could help with that if he hung around for another day.
“Alright, I’ll stay for a night,” he said.
“Excellent,” Novus said, nodding slightly. “Until tomorrow then.” With that, she swept out of the room.
Jack looked back down at Pash, then over to Sextus. The old warrior was grinning at him.
“You have no idea, do you?” the old warrior said.
Jack shook his head. “Not a damn clue.”
Every goddamned minute of Angela’s life was a miserable, wet, sloppy, COLD mess.
“F-f-f-f-f…” Angela chattered, shivering as she stumbled over a root. She couldn’t even swear. The words wouldn’t squeeze past her blue lips.
“C-c-cold. So, so cold. Why are you so cold, Angela? Maybe because it Never. Stops. Raining. Can you dry off when it’s raining? No, no you can’t.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she shuddered. “Wh-wh-where is that river?” She’d been forced away from it when the bank got too steep, but now, 6 hours later, she couldn’t find it.
“Oh, come on!” she shouted. “It’s a river! A RIVER! How do you lose a river!!!”
Limping over to a moss-covered rock, Angela sat down with a groan. She gingerly took off her soaked shoe to inspect her foot. Not surprisingly, it was a blistered mess. She desperately wanted to cast her one heal spell, but if the last week had taught her anything, it was that she needed to save that spell for all of the horrific, life-threatening injuries she was bound to receive. You know, the ones that happened basically every day? She’d been injured so many times she couldn’t even keep track of it all.
A stone slab appeared, dropping into her lap with a thud.
“Oof,” she grunted. Why the hell had this thing appeared? Looking at the contents, she discovered that it was a list of all her injuries to date. “Seriously? Someone is keeping track of my misery? Fuck you very much, Arenia.”
Still, she felt compelled to look it over.
APPENDIX A
INJURIES TO DATE (total)
Head, concussion x18
Head, broken skull x3
Head, broken jaw x2
Broken ribs x27
Leg (Left)
Meniscus tear x1
ACL tear x1
MCL tear x1
PCL tear x1
LCL tear x1
Broken kneecap x1
Broken fibula x3
Leg (Right)
Meniscus tear x3
ACL tear x3
MCL tear x2
PCL tear x1
Broken femur x1
Broken tibia x1
Broken fibula x2
Arm (Left)
Broken collarbone x1
AC separation x1
Broken humerus x1
Broken ulna x2
Broken radius x3
Broken carpus x2
Arm (right)
Broken collarbone x3
Broken humerus x1
Broken ulna x2
Broken radius x3
Nervous system
Electrocution x1
Severed spinal column x1
Total Blood Lost: 4.3 litres
“Daaaamn…” Angela muttered. Nature in Arenia was a bitch. At least she picked up another +7 to Constitution as a result of the beat-down she was receiving.
Angela reviewed the list again and shook her head. “That can’t be right. Eighteen concussions?” She mentally ran over the last week.
Probably got one falling out of the tree. Then there was the deer, slipped on those rocks… probably another eight from all the times I fell in the river. The boar attack, that ra
m thingy. Fell out of a different tree. The hill incident. The sapling… falling off the ledge in my sleep. Hitting my head when I passed out after eating that fruit. The mangalaur—whatever the hell that thing was.
Angela reviewed her list again and realized she was already over eighteen.
“Yikers… I am awful at this.”
There was no way to deny it. Nature sucked. Angela could appreciate its importance, but actually spending time in it? Fuuuuck that noise. All she wanted was a comfy chair, a warm fire, and a goddamned movie or something. What passed for a movie here? A bard? Yeah… a sexy bard with like, 57 Charisma and a dearth of clothing. That’s what she wanted.
Looking around, Angela gave every living creature in the vicinity the double middle finger.
“Yeah, that’s right! Fuck all of you! Druid my ass.”
A twig snapped behind Angela, and she leapt to her feet, taking off at a dead sprint despite her ragged state. A week in this god-forsaken place had taught her that it was always best to run. After all, the only things that chased you were the ones that wanted to eat you.
Pain shot through Angela’s now-shoeless foot every time her blistered flesh hit the rough forest floor, but she didn’t dare slow down. Even now, she could hear the racket of trees breaking behind her. Whatever was chasing her was damn big.
Sparing a quick glance at her pursuer, Angela’s eyes went wide.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE!”
Chapter 20
Arrival
The rumbling wagon eventually woke Mark from his slumber. Or maybe he woke on his own? He had no idea how long he’d been asleep. Not long enough, given how exhausted he felt.
With a couple of weary blinks, Mark raised his head and looked around, only to discover the late morning sun warming his face.
Okay, maybe not such a quick nap after all.
“Ma, he’s awake!” Gavin shouted, the boy’s face appearing above Mark. A moment later, Rosie’s smiling face was looking down at him as well.
“So he is,” she said. “You were out for quite a while. Nearly a full day, in fact.”
Mark’s eyes widened and he dropped his head back down on the wooden tail of the wagon. “I think I’ve spent more time unconscious than I have awake on this god-forsaken planet.” The comment prompted an odd look from Rosie, but Mark was too tired to care.
Instead of saying something, she banged on the side of the wagon, signalling Darius to stop. She looked at Mark and pointed to the side of the road. “You go take care of business while I get you something to eat.”
Mark’s initial confusion at her words washed away as he realized just how badly he needed to pee, not to mention how ravenous he was. He immediately jumped off the wagon and sprinted into the bushes. By the time he returned, Rosie was off the back of the wagon with a plate of bread, cheese, and dried meats in hand.
“Come on then,” she said, waving him to the front of the wagon and sparing him the humiliation of having to climb up again. “We’ll ride up top with Darius so you can tell us your story.”
Gavin hopped down as well, only to have Rosie glare at him. “Not likely, child. I’m still mad at you.”
“But ma, you’ll still be mad at me a hunnert years from now!” Gavin exclaimed.
“Yes, I will. And you should have thought of that before you foolishly risked your life!”
She waited until Gavin pouted his way back up into the wagon, then gestured for Mark to follow. He went to grab his staff, only to discover a pair of gloves lying on top of it.
Mark looked at Rosie, but she didn’t say anything; she just nodded towards the gloves. He gave her a tight smile of gratitude, then donned the gloves and grabbed his staff before following her to the front of the wagon.
“You realize you’ll have to tell Gav the story at some point, right?” Rosie whispered conspiratorially as they walked. Mark gave her the best smile he could muster, but it probably came across pretty weak. There were a lot of avenues this conversation could take, and he still couldn’t tell which one was in store.
When they got to the front of the wagon, he found Darius grinning down at him from his perch atop the driver’s seat. “Ah, yer back with us! I was afraid ye’d die on the way and I’d have ta sell yeh for fertilizer.” He extended his hand to help Mark up into the wagon, which Mark dutifully accepted. He was about to say his thanks when Darius suddenly hauled Mark off the ground, swinging him through the air and depositing Mark on the opposite side of the wagon. The large man grinned at Mark’s shocked expression and gave him a wink, then slid over to make room for his wife. Once she was settled, he snapped the reigns and got the wagon moving again.
Rosie didn’t even acknowledge her husband’s antics, simply handing the plate of food and a waterskin to Mark. “There you go; have a bite before we chat.”
“Thank you?” Mark said, putting the staff in the crook of his elbow and accepting the plate of food. He ate slowly, partially to delay their inevitable conversation, but mostly to stare in wonder at the changes in his surroundings.
The forest that had previously dominated the right side of the road had been transformed into a massive sea of farmland. Workers dotted the fields as they took care of their morning chores, while others were loading up carts of goods, preparing to bring them into the enormous city that loomed a few kilometres down the road.
“Is that Palmyre?” he said, hardly able to believe it.
“Aye, tis,” Darius answered.
Mark could only gape. Had he done it? Had he gotten to the city despite everything that had happened? What about his family? Were they there? Would they ever be?
“You alright?” Rosie said.
It was almost too much. Mark nodded, wiping away tears. He looked at Rosie and Darius. What to say? How much to say? He hummed and hawed, then decided that without knowing anything about this world, the truth was no riskier than whatever lie he could concoct. Besides, there was every chance in the world they straight-up wouldn’t believe him.
“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just been a long few days. Very long. A lot has happened, and most of it is pretty unbelievable. Hell, you probably won’t believe me, but it’s the truth, so there you have it.”
“Eh, why don’t yeh try us,” Darius said. “I’ve seen more than a few strange things in my day. Even married one of ’em.”
Rosie playfully slapped Darius on the arm, and he faked grievous injury, even letting the wagon drift to the side of the road as though he could no longer operate the reigns. It was just a simple, fun exchange between a husband and wife, but their easy companionship calmed Mark’s fears about revealing where he came from.
Mark hesitated, then said, “I’m not from this world. I was born on a planet called Earth and brought to Arenia against my will.”
Darius and Rosie’s play stopped immediately. Mark waited for laughter or derision, possibly a concern for his mental health, but Rosie instead covered her mouth with one hand while Darius stared at him wide-eyed.
“The lad’s a Legend!” Darius bellowed. “Now it all makes sense! If anyone else woulda said it, I’d not believe it for a second. But after what I seen, combined with your low Renown?” He grabbed Rosie by the shoulder. “A Legend! In our own wagon!”
“I can hardly believe it either,” Rosie said, shaking her head. “But why would you TELL us?”
“I shouldn’t have?” Mark said.
Both of them shook their heads violently.
“Absolutely not,” Rosie said. “There’s all kinds of trouble you could get into if people knew you were a Legend. We haven’t seen one in these parts for decades. Be grateful we’re good people.
“Oh, and don’t tell Gavin,” she added. “The lad’s lovely, and he’s used to keeping a secret about magic, but you being a Legend is a bit too much to stake on the restraint of a child.”
Mark groaned. He had assumed his status was more common than that, and now he’d gone and blown his secret. What’s worse, he’d also effect
ively outed his family. Hopefully, they had more sense than to let their secret slip any further.
At least he trusted Darius and Rosie. Or as much as one could with so little time spent together.
“Well then, lad,” Darius said. “I’ve got a lot a questions I could ask, but it seems the most pressin’ ones concern that magic o’ yours that Rosie mentioned. You willin’ to shed some light on just what it was yeh did back there?”
After the reaction Mark had gotten to his Earthly origins, he quickly reconsidered sharing the story of his experiences in the fog. Even with the knowledge that he was a Legend, they seemed nervous about what he had done. Which meant it was a secret he had to keep.
Unfortunately, he only could think of one way to do that.
Mark glanced at Rosie. He hated to do it, but he would have to be a bit of a jerk if he wanted to run damage control.
“Speaking of people’s natures, you’re a faerie, aren’t you?”
Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I am a sylph, and that fact is a tightly held secret in Palmyre. Most people merely suspect I have some faerie heritage rather than being full-blooded. I hope you can keep the truth to yourself. If I hadn’t needed my true form for battle magic, I would never have revealed it to you. The last thing I need is you sharing my secret out of ignorance—only a true-blood faerie can shapeshift, so merely recounting the story of our fight would expose me.”
Then she shook her head and gave a small chuckle. “In retrospect, maybe knowing each other’s secret is for the best. It provides a kind of morbid insurance against disclosure, doesn’t it?”
Mark sighed internally. Now it was time to be a dick. “Yes, it’s great in principle, but only if we’re both willing to keep the secret.”
Rosie’s eyes sparked at his comment, but Mark forestalled her with a hand.
“Before you get all worked up, I’m not implying that I plan on telling people your secret.”
Arrival: Legends of Arenia Book 1 (A LitRPG Story) Page 26
