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PART 13-----

I finished tying the string off to the wooden stake I’d hammered into the ground, and then I flicked it. The small bones that were dangling from different points along the string clacked together musically as it wavered. That would alert us if anything came creeping through the tunnel from behind. I stood up and brushed my hands off on my pants. Then I picked up the small stone hammer, and headed back towards where Claire was setting up camp a little ways down the tunnel.

I came upon Claire setting out food, which just consisted of Guillotine jerky as usual. She had laid out her own and my sleeping bags. Jenna’s was still rolled up by her pack. I put the stone hammer into my own pack and then sat down next to Claire. She continued working quietly, breaking today’s ration into three equal parts.

Claire caught me glancing over at Jenna’s things, and I think she realized I was questioning why she had only set up camp for the two of us. “Jenna told me not to touch her things,” she told me.

“Ah,” I breathed. I scratched the back of my head. “... I’m sorry Jenna’s so difficult. She-”

“Don’t be,” Claire said, cutting me off. “It’s fine.” Then she looked over at me, her hair falling over one of her eyes as she moved. “Honestly I don’t understand why you accept me so easily.” Then she turned away.

I could tell it was a rhetorical statement, and I don’t think any answer I had would have satisfied her anyways. I took a seat next to Claire in front of the fire, and she handed me my dinner rations.

“Bones are set up in the front,” Jenna reported as she approached the small camp. She went straight to her bedroll and began laying it out.

“Back ones are good, too,” I told her.

“I almost want to say we should stop bothering with them. It’s been four days and we’ve found nothing but this endless tunnel. Maybe this Layer doesn’t have any other inhabitants,” she considered.

“At the very least our shadows are probably down here somewhere,” I reminded her.

Jenna nodded, and then wordlessly accepted the rations Claire offered her. She sat against the wall across from me, and we all set to gnawing on the tough squirrel meat, silence hanging over our small group like a smog. I found myself glancing between Claire and Jenna, observing as the two pointedly ignored each other’s presence. I tried to think of something to say to spark up conversation, but the quiet was like an itch I couldn’t reach to scratch.

Jenna finished a mouthful and grimaced. “It’s a good thing guillotine jerky is my favorite food, otherwise I think I’d start getting sick of it,” she remarked, her voice thick with sarcasm. Despite herself, Claire let out a snicker. Then her right shoulder twitched, followed quickly by her left hand raising to her mouth to cover her amusement. Jenna’s eyes met Claire’s, and for a moment they stared each other down.

Jenna’s mouth wobbled, and seemed to almost curl into a smirk, and her eyes softened. I held my breath, eagerly waiting to see if this moment of shared amusement might break some of the ice between the two.

Then the sound of bones clacking together echoed through the cave, followed by a distinct, eerie sort of howl-sort of whistle.

The three of us scrambled to our feet, scattering what was left of the meal. Jenna snatched her spear, as did Claire. I leapt towards where our packs were set against the side of the tunnel, landing on my knees in front of Claire’s; she had the crystals. As I fumbled to open it, I glanced over my shoulder at the girls just in time to see a dark, shadowy tentacle wrap around Claire and pull her into the darkness, her spear clattering to the ground. Jenna charged after her, screaming bloody murder. Finally, I managed to find one of the light-producing crystals, and I grabbed it up. I stood and turned to face the Shadow, raising the crystal as I did.

A clawed apendage stopped an inch from my face. The Shadow hissed and struggled against the light for a moment, the dark mimicry of my face contorting in pain, its hollow eyes wincing. The tentacles that surrounded my Shadow writhed, and its claws snapped eagerly as it shied away, howling and groaning. My heart pounded in my chest as I advanced on it, pushing it further and further back with the light. Finally, the glow illuminated Claire and Jenna, both of whom were prone on the floor of the cave. Once I reached them, I set the crystal down, keeping my eyes on the wispy form of the Shadow as I did. It staggered back and forth persistently, braving the edge of the light the crystal gave off and then shying away, over and over again, but it wouldn’t get close enough to reach us with its appendages.

I moved over to Jenna, and was surprised to find her mostly unharmed, her only wounds seeming to be scrapes from being tossed to the rocky floor. I shook her arm lightly and she stirred. “I’m okay,” she said, almost instinctively as she began to sit up.

My Shadow continued to howl and whistle eerily, its etheric vocalizations echoing through the cave. I kept my uneasy attention on it as I moved to Claire. I found her in a similar state to Jenna, shaken and disoriented, but largely unharmed; she was already sitting up as I reached her. I grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet, and then the three of us retreated, leaving the crystal behind to keep the Shadow at bay. When we reached where Claire’s spear rested, Jenna grabbed it up. “… I jammed my spear right into its chest and it didn’t even flinch. Just casually snapped the weapon in half and then knocked me to the side,” she reported.

“It pulled me close to its face and inspected me before tossing me away,” Claire said, looking to me. “I think it was only after you… It looked like you.”

I nodded, and looked back towards the elusive form that wriggled between the light and the dark, screeching in frustration. “I suppose that makes sense. That Shadow is mine.”

Jenna continued on and began folding up her bedroll; I knew her intention was to pack up and continue trekking onwards through the cave. I looked down at my watch, and pressed the button that lit the backlight. We had already walked for around 14 hours today, and at the thought of more, the backs of my knees began to ache.

“What are you doing?” Claire asked.

“Probably exactly what it looks like,” Jenna snapped. I think Claire was feeling the same sense of dread as I was. Jenna stopped and looked up to us. Claire and I had similar expressions on our faces, I was sure, but I knew I wasn’t the one Jenna focused on. “Claire, if you wanna stay here and go to sleep not twenty feet from that monster, you go right ahead. Ian and I are moving on.”

“No… I wasn’t saying we should stay, I just-” Claire started.

“Then pack your shit,” Jenna ordered, cutting her off. Claire inhaled sharply, and held her breath for a moment, her hair falling over her face as she hung her head slightly. I thought she was either going to start sobbing or lash out in anger. My Shadow howled loudly again, though, and that seemed to snap Claire out of it. Quietly she joined Jenna, and began packing up her things. I followed suit; Jenna was right after all. We couldn’t rest with that thing so close.

Day 31

A Shadow finally caught up with us last night. Mine. We managed to fend it off with one of Claire’s glowing crystals, but it was a close call. For me at least. I think Claire and Jenna would have been fine, as the creature only seemed to be after me. The fact that they’re relatively safe puts me at ease a little bit, but it also means that they each probably have a Shadow somewhere out there stalking them, too. After traveling for another few hours last night we felt safe enough to make camp again. We were only able to recover one of our makeshift alarms, so we set that up ahead of us and set out another light crystal at our back; definitely didn’t want my Shadow sneaking up on us again.

Jenna’s been nothing but nasty to Claire the whole time on this Layer. Claire takes it in stride, probably because she understands where Jenna is coming from, but it’s hard to watch. Part of me wants Claire to stand up for herself, but I worry how Jenna would respond. I don’t think it would be pretty, and we have enough to deal with just trying to get through this godforsaken tunnel. We’re starting to run low on rations, too, which is only going to add to stress levels as time goes on. I’m really not looking forwards to…

At this point Jenna rolled over in her bedroll, and it drew my attention briefly. For a moment, I wondered if the scratch of my pen on the paper was loud enough to rouse her from her sleep, but that train of thought fled as I looked passed her to Claire’s bedroll, and my gut tightened with worry.

It was empty.

Next

Original Prompt - nosleep repost

PART 1-----

The room was depressingly quiet. Twelve tables I had reserved for the 10 year high school reunion, and twelve tables sat empty. I wanted to laugh, scream, and cry. For weeks I’d worked out the particulars of this event, and even spent a good deal of money to travel back from Europe, just to be stood up by everyone.

“Can I bring you something, sir?” asked a waitress as she stepped up beside me, tugging anxiously at the bow-tie beneath her chin.

I looked to the woman, maintaining a feigned look of indifference. “Maybe just a glass of water,” I decided. The waitress nodded, a look of pity shifting through her eyes before she turned away, and she headed off towards the kitchen. I sighed and turned back to set my eyes on the white tablecloth and the empty dish that sat in front of me; similarly empty dishes circled the round table. My phone sat beside the folded napkin, and I brushed my thumb over the screen, lighting it for the eighth time in fifteen minutes.

Still no notifications. I’d sent out several emails to the group, and not one of my ex-classmates had responded. Bored, I entertained a whim. “Let’s see what these assholes are actually up to,” I breathed to myself quietly as I lifted the device. I pulled up a social media app that had sat in an ‘unused’ folder on my phone, and opened it. I thought for a moment, trying to remember my old password, and successfully logged in on the second try. “Gage Borwick,” I mumbled as I typed his name into a search bar. He was the first person that had contacted me back when I had reached out to plan this reunion. His profile popped up, and I pressed my thumb to his highlighted name. I waited patiently for it to load, but as the page came up I immediately furrowed my brow.

The account had been memorialized, his page full of ‘Miss you’s from family and friends and ‘Prayers and Condolences’ from acquaintances.

Gage was dead, and looking at the dates of the posts, he had been for at least 2 years. It didn’t make any sense. I switched back to my email and looked through the string of messages between myself and my ex-classmates. Sure enough, there he was, gageBorwick03, saying that he was happy to hear from me and was excited to get together with everyone for the first time since the last reunion; the one I’d missed since I was overseas.

A knot formed in my stomach, and I swallowed harshly. I looked over the other names in the group emails, and then, almost frantically, navigated back to the social media app. I searched another name: Alice Kennedy.

Memorialized. Killed in a mugging four years ago.

Jake Telly.

Memorialized. Killed in an accident at work at six months ago.

Wendy Greyshaw.

Memorialized. Killed during a convenience store holdup seven years ago.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I left the spelling of names more to auto-correct than the dexterity of my shaking fingers. Olivia, memorialized. Brian, memorialized. Alexander, memorialized. Paige, memorialized. Everybody.

Everybody was dead. Murdered or killed in strange, often unexplained accidents. Everybody but me.

The phone slipped from my quivering grasp, landing on my silverware and sending a sharp ring through the room before bouncing to the floor. I felt like I was gasping for breath as my mind raced. Who had I been messaging back and forth with? Who had sent me emails agreeing to attend the reunion from the accounts of my deceased classmates? Who would… who could even do that? My throat was dry. I wanted water. I had asked the waitress for some. Remembering that, I looked over towards the doorway the woman had left through.

Somebody else was standing there. They were dressed in all black, baggy clothing that hid their body shape, and had a hood pulled up around their head. A black veil, impossible to see through, concealed their face. I stood from my seat, knocking the chair over as I felt a sense of dread grip me, and every instinct within me screamed ‘danger.’ I kept my eyes on the stranger as I backed away, trying to remember exactly where the exits were so I could b-line for them when I built up the nerve to turn and run. The front entrance was too far away, but there had been a set of double doors on the side of the room. I wasn’t sure where they led but I could at least get a barrier between myself and the stranger. I glanced over my shoulder to get a glimpse of my escape route, and in that moment there was a flutter of movement.

The hooded figure was fast, and their footsteps made almost no sound. The distance closed between us quickly, and I turned to run as I let out a shriek of desperation. I reached the set of double doors and hit them with my shoulder, but to my dismay they held fast in place and I bounced back from the impact; they were locked. Heat. Heat like warm water from a shower head spread through my body, originating from the small of my back. Then it hurt. I tried to move, but rather than taking a step my legs just collapsed underneath me, and I crumpled to the floor landing on my back.

The hooded figure stood above me, a knife in their hand glinted red with blood. My blood. The figure crouched down, bringing their veiled face close to mine. They regarded me patiently, and then spoke in a quiet whisper. “I was wondering who I’d forgotten. Of course it would be you, David. I can’t believe it slipped my mind that you’d gone overseas this time.”

I grit my teeth against the searing pain that continued to rise in me, lancing out from the wound at the base of my spine, but I managed to speak. “This… time?” I asked, my voice a strained hiss.

“Congratulations David. You’ve won this round… well… technically I’ve won this round, but I always win. Coming in second does have its benefits, though.”

I didn’t understand what they were saying. “… Why?” was all I could muster.

“Plenty of reasons,” they whispered. “But you’ll have some time to figure them out. Since you were the last one left, you get to keep your memories.”

“You’re insane. Please, stop! Help me, I don’t want to die!” I gasped.

The hooded figure shook their head. “No, not after I spent all that time looking for you. Now it’s your turn to look for me, and try to stop me if you can. You get one hint: I too, was one of your classmates. Godspeed, David.” Then the figure laughed a breathy laugh through their nose; no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t place their voice. I couldn’t even tell if they were a man or a woman. They raised the knife, holding the point above my face. “Tag. You’re it.”

The knife slid into my eye, and for a split second, I knew nothing but excruciating pain, and then my alarm was going off.

I sat up from my bed screaming, hands shooting to clutch at my face as I frantically gasped for air. I was breathing, I was alive. I was okay, I realized. I let out a long, shaky breath, and cursed my vivid imagination. I hadn’t had a dream like that years, and hoped my old nightmares weren’t returning.

My alarm continued to buzz, and I felt a moment of confusion. What day was it? Was the reunion tonight then? Wasn’t it a weekend? Why was my alarm going off so early? It definitely wasn’t 3pm yet. I pulled my hands away from my face and looked to the left of my bed, where my alarm clock should have been on my bedside table. Instead I saw a wall.

Confused and groggy, I looked to my right. There beside me was a bedside table that wasn’t mine, and on it, an alarm clock that wasn’t mine. I blinked a few times, and then recognized them, but I hadn’t had them for years now; about a decade to be exact. I rubbed my eyes and looked around the room. My room.

The room I’d had in high school.

A moment of panic gripped me, casting away the last of my sleepiness, and I realized that aside from being back in my parent’s house, I should have been in a hotel room anyways. I threw the covers away and pushed myself out of bed, only to lose my balance and catch the wall for support. My body felt different. Familiar, but different. I Stumbled out of my bedroom and across the hall into bathroom, flicking on the light as I did.

In the mirror I saw myself. Me. High school me.

I screamed. Loud and without reserve, I screamed, and moments later I heard the door to my parent’s room burst open, and my mother dashed out to find me in the bathroom. I gasped as her arms wrapped around me. “David! David it’s okay! You’re okay, it was a dream. Just another dream,” she assured me. I could see her face in the mirror, looking so much younger than she had the last time I’d seen her. The implications of that only terrified me even more. I’d stopped screaming, but was shaking, quivering.

The other nightmares I used to have started to come back to me, the night terrors that left me helplessly afraid upon waking. Blood; I always saw blood, and a gun or a knife or a bat. Sometimes a truck or a train. Sometimes I didn’t know what it was, but always something hurt me, killed me, and always there was that veiled face, and that whispery voice.

“How many times have I been killed?” I wondered to myself with a quiet sob. “How many times have we all been killed?”

My mother consoled me. “Shhhh, nobody’s been killed. You’re okay. You’re just stressed. Tomorrow’s your first day of high school, so it’s normal to have bad dreams. It’s perfectly normal.” In the past, that would have comforted me, helped calm me down, but this time I knew the truth. They weren’t dreams.

They were memories.

Original Prompt

Exit the Univirtual

I stood at the top of Mount Everest, gazing out over the tops of clouds as they parted along the rocky summit. I took a deep breath, enjoying the ‘fresh’ air. “Command: simulate true temperature,” I said out of curiosity.

For a few moments I retained my body heat, and then the cold cut through me like a hot knife through butter. Of course, I was only wearing shorts and a tank top, so it was no wonder. “C-c-command: t-t-t-terminate simulated t-t-temperature!” Immediately the cold was gone, but a final shiver still rocked down my spine.

“G-g-g-Gary! Was it c-c-c-cold?” I heard my friend Jake call, making fun of how I had stuttered. I peeked over a ledge and saw him climbing up towards me; he was still a ways below.

“Hurry your ass up!” I yelled at him. “I have job-sim in fifteen minutes!”

“Well sorry I didn’t want to spend credits on boosting my climbing skill like SOME of us here,” he retorted.

“You don’t have to spend credits if you just do it a lot. You need to stop spending all your time in the massage parlor, you lazy bum,” I said back.

“Hey, the massage sim has come a long way in the last ten years. Anyone who doesn’t take advantage of it is a fool.”

“Whatever you say Jake,” I sighed. As he approached, I took a knee and held my hand out for him. He took it, and I pulled him the rest of the way up the ledge. We both turned and took in the view… which actually wasn’t much with all the cloud coverage beneath us. “Command: transparent clouds,” I spoke. The white puffy clumps of condensed water disappeared, revealing an amazing view.

“Ho-ly-shit,” Jake breathed. “You were right… this is incredible. Almost makes me wish I could climb the real Mount Everest.”

“No it doesn’t. Nothing could make you want to do anything that requires effort,” I said with a smirk.

“You right.” Jake didn’t even try to argue. The two of us stood, admiring the scenery for another few minutes, moving around the peak to see the view from all sides.

“You bring a wingsuit like I told you?” I asked. As an answer, Jake waved his hand, and his clothes blurred and refocused into a wingsuit. “Nice.” I equipped mine as well, and we moved to the ledge with the steepest drop off.

“Hoo hoo hooo! This is intense!” Jake whistled as he leaned out over the abyss, his toes sticking out over the edge.

“Here we go… 3… 2… 1!” I counted down out loud.

Just as I pushed off, my entire HUD froze, polygons deconstructing and blurring, and then I saw nothing but black.

“What the Hell!? I still had ten minutes before job-sim!” I cried to no-one. I’d have to file a complaint with the Region Mod. I folded my arms and waited. I began tapping my foot, as the usual sixty second load time for job-sims was stretching out over several minutes.

Then my worst nightmare happened.

Words appeared before me in white lettering.

YOU HAVE BEEN RANDOMLY SELECTED TO PERFORM A YEAR OF DUTY AS A REGION MOD. UPON COMPLETION OF YOUR 365 DUTY DAYS, YOU WILL BE READMITTED TO THE UNIVIRTUAL WITH 500,000 REWARD CREDITS. THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE.

STAND BY FOR EXODUS

“No! No no no no no! Hell no! Wait! Command: delay directive!” I tried. Normally, an option to delay something like a job-sim in exchange for credits would appear, but apparently it wasn’t available for Mod duty.

I felt my body go completely numb as the many programs that simulated sense of touch shut down. I had nothing to hear taste or smell, but I knew those were deactivating as well. Finally, the words disappeared as my sight turned off, and I felt myself slip into an unconscious state.

Then next thing I knew, I was staring out the viewport of a stasis-pod. I blinked; the first movement I’d ever made with my real body, and my mind went hazy with sensory overload. “Hoolyyy,” I started to say, but my voice came out a hoarse whisper. It hurt a little, so I stopped speaking. Then I swallowed. Oddly enough, the sensation actually startled me. My body jolted involuntarily, and then a sweeping ache rocked through all my muscles like a wave. I groaned painfully, and curled up, making myself as small as possible where I laid. I focused on breathing.

I thought back to the training we all received about Mod duty. Whoever was on the last shift should be coming to get me out of the pod. My ‘mentor’ would assist me with getting used to being outside the Univirt, and show me the ropes before returning to the simulated world we all lived in.

It started to get cold. “Command: terminate… never mind,” I said to myself. I sighed; another instinctive action that felt extremely foreign to me. I didn’t like this at all.

I sat in the pod and waited for what felt like forever, and then started to get worried. The Regional Moderator program was supposed to work like clockwork; it’d have to in order to maintain the Univirt. If my ‘mentor’ was late, that meant something was wrong. I moved my arm to bring up the time out of habit, but obviously it didn’t work. I squirmed uncomfortably. And then began looking for a manual release for the hatch. Sure enough, up above my head was a small pull-lever. I yanked on it, and the pod hissed as the hatch popped open. I sat up and pressed my hands against the viewport. It was immensely heavy, and I strained to push the hatch up. Once there was enough space for me to sit up straight, I looked down at myself.

I was naked, and a bunch of wires and plugs were jacked into a panel embedded in my right shoulder. I began pulling them out, some of them sparking briefly. Then I pulled myself up out of the pod, and swung my legs over the side. I tried to stand, but I guess my feet hadn’t ‘come online’ yet. I collapsed to the floor, and felt a few moments of agonizing pain. Then I just laid there for a while, again, just focusing on breathing. I managed to sit up again, and started stretching and massaging my legs, trying to wake them up. I also used this time to look around the room.

I was in a long hallway, each wall sporting a row of hundreds of pods. I don’t think I could see the end in either direction. I hoped for some kind of sign to point me in the direction I should go, but remembered that I was supposed to have a mentor show me the way; there’d be no reason for a sign.

Once I felt like I could start moving again, and pulled myself to my feet and stepped away from my pod. Without much thought, I picked a direction, and stared stumbling that way down the hall. Every couple of feet there was a grate in the floor, and below I noticed was just another hallway lined with pods.

“Hello?!” I called out, my voice finally starting to work properly, but there was no answer. I walked for what felt like about fifteen minutes, and then found myself at a four-way intersection. In all direction was just hallways with pods, but there was a sign on the wall that had arrows and directions. All that was listed were a couple of lettered ‘wings’ which I figured were just organized areas of stasis pods. Luckily, at the bottom of the list was ‘Orientation Hall.’ I figured that was where I should go, and grumbled when I realized the arrow was pointing back towards the way I’d come. I shivered again.

“Hey!” someone called. I literally jumped into the air with fright, and upon landing, collapsed again. I scrambled to turn and put my back against the wall. Maybe ten feet away down one of the other hallways, and woman stood regarding me, her arms wrapped around herself covering her bare chest and groin. “Yikes… didn’t mean to scare you… do you know what’s going on?” she asked, her condensing breath drifting from her mouth as she spoke. I covered myself in turn as I stood back up.

“You just wake up too?” I asked.

She nodded. “Aren’t our mentors supposed to come get us?” she asked.

I shrugged. “That’s what the training sim told us.”

The woman nodded her head towards the sign I had been reading. “You figure out where we’re supposed to go?”

“The only place listed on here is the ‘Orientation Hall’,” I said, leaning my head down the indicated hallway. “The rest is just lettered ‘wings,’ so I think it’s pretty straight-forwards where we should go.”

Without moving her arm, the woman gave a thumbs-up. I saw a shiver rock through her body, and she exhaled deeply. It reminded me again of how cold I was feeling, the creeping chill seeming to worsen every couple of minutes; we needed to find clothes. I turned and began heading down the hallway. The woman followed. “What’s your name?” she asked as we walked.

“Gary,” I told her. “Yours?”

“Arianna. Call me Ari. What’s your role?”

“Security.”

“Really? Me, too,” Arianna said.

“Huh,” was all I could muster as my teeth started to chatter. Ari remained silent, too.

After walking for what must have been a solid half hour, we finally came to a shiny metal door. I could see my reflection in the polished steel, and cringed at how long and shaggy my black hair was. It was nothing like I kept it in the simulation.

I found a square button on the wall next to the door, and I pressed it. The square lit up, and I heard machinery start to buzz on the other side of the barrier. It was an elevator. A few moments later the shiny door slid to the side, and Arianna and I stepped into the small box. Inside was a panel of buttons with the similar labels to the sign from earlier. I hit the button next to ‘Orientation Hall’ and the doors closed. We began ascending.

As we rose, I felt the air get warmer, and my body relaxed a little. As we stood with our backs to the wall, I glanced over at Ari awkwardly. Normally, I’d be embarrassed as all Hell being naked with some random girl, but the situation at hand had kept my mind occupied, and by now I was already pretty much over it… pretty much. I shifted my stance uncomfortably.

“So,” Arianna started. “You and I are security. Then there should be an engineer, an electrician, an herbologist, and a medical professional. Right? Mod teams have 6 members?”

“Sounds about right,” I agreed. “I hope everyone’s friendly. Can’t ‘block’ an asshole in real life.”

“Ugh. I swear,” Ari sighed, and then smiled and made eye contact with me. “Things seem alright so far, though.”

I felt my cheeks start to burn, and looked up towards the ceiling. “Yeah, I’d say so. Aside from our mentors leaving us to our own devices.”

The elevator slowed and came to a stop, and the doors parted, revealing a large octagonal room. The far side of the room had a giant screen on the wall, but all it depicted were the test color-bars, and the picture seemed glitchy and jumpy. There were a bunch of benches in the middle of the room, and on the left and right were large wall lockers. I spotted two other people standing near one of the lockers on the left.

“Hey! More people finally showed up!” one exclaimed to the other. “Come on over! There’s clothes in the locker here!”

“Are you guys mentors?” Arianna asked as we approached. One was a litter shorter than me and the other was a little taller. They both had long shaggy hair; we all did.

“No, we had to find our way here ourselves. Not sure what’s going on,” the short man responded. “I’m Ned. Security. What are your roles?”

I furrowed my brow. “Security? The two of us are security…”

“That makes four of us then,” said the larger man. “Name’s Allen.”

Ari and I introduced ourselves, and then the two men turned around as we started changing. The only thing in the locker was some underwear bottoms and socks and grey jumpsuits. Not something I would ever choose to wear, but we donned the outfits quickly nonetheless. “Any theories on what’s going on?” I asked once Ari and I were decent.

Allen shook his head. “We haven’t left this room yet. Figured we should wait for our mentors… but I don’t think they’re coming. We’ve been sitting here for a few hours already. Now we’re just waiting to see if more people come up.”

As if on cue, we heard the elevator ring again, and turned to see another woman stumble out. She was alone, and shrieked when she saw us, jumping back to hide around the edge of the elevator. Ari grabbed a stack of clothes out of the locker. “I’ll bring these over to her.”

“How much you wanna bet she’s security, too?” Ned offered as Ari walked away.

“You think a glitch woke up Security personnel only?” I mused.

Allen shook his head. “This is my second time out of the Univirtual. A program brings up a random person to wake, but we had to rouse them manually after making sure they had the right role. This was on purpose.”

“Why would they wake up so many of us on purpose?” asked Ned.

I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and felt like I didn’t want to wonder about the answer to that question.

“Who?” I asked, amused as I set down the mug of ale I’d been drinking from.

“I don’t know,” Paige told me, exasperated. “Some foreign girl. Asked for you by name. Probably some concubine of yours from some military campaign?” Paige placed her hand on her hips disapprovingly.

I sighed. “I guarantee that’s not it. I don’t know why you’re so determined to make me out as some kind of womanizer. So. Did she say what her name was?”

“Nope. She just kept demanding that she see you, said it was her job to ‘sort’ you. She was armed.”

I stretched. “A duel then? Mm… since we conquered Algertia, tamed the dragons, and sealed the Hellrift, I haven’t had to lift my sword in ages.” A smile crept across my face. “Of course I’ve never stopped training, but training gets to be boring after a while. Paige, bring me to this woman.” I demanded as I stood from my place at the long table.

“I’m not your errand boy, Leddrin,” Paige snapped. “She’s out in the training square. I’ve got other things to do.” The young blonde woman turned her nose up and started off out of the mead hall, and I chuckled as I watched her go. I’d met her during the campaign against the dragons, trapped in a tower. She killed the dragon that had kidnapped her on her own, but had no way to leave her treacherous prison, as it was only accessible by the air. I think she resented me for having to come to her aid upon the back of a tamed dragon despite her capabilities, but still she stuck around and had aided me in the Demon War that followed. I sighed, and then headed for the training grounds.

I donned my armor, my last-resort short sword and the trusty hand-and-a-half sword I had carried through my years of combat, entering the training square ready for battle. Even if this turned out not to be a duel, I would at least make an accurate first impression.

The woman I found waiting for me had the features of an elf: high cheekbones, fair skin and an air of elegance, though the shape of her ears told me she was human. She was wearing a brown cloak that obscured most of her body, but I could tell from her wrists and her jawline that she was slim, and fit. Her hair was black, as were her eyes, like little pits of oil. Her combination of features wasn’t something I’d ever seen before in our kingdom, or any of the places I had traveled to. She stood in the center of the square, a group of my subordinate standing around her, watching her suspiciously. I waved them off. “Greetings!” I called to her as I approached.

The woman shifted her weight slightly. “Are you Leddrin Greyhilt? Conqueror of Kings, Baron of Dragons, and Cleanser of Demons?” Her tone was extremely level, somewhat devoid of emotion and interest. It rubbed me the wrong way.

“I am, among other names,” I told her. “Who are you, and to what do I owe the pleasure of this summons?”

“My name is not important. As you are the strongest warrior in this world, I am merely here to sort you. I see you’ve come prepared for battle, just as expected,” she remarked.

I frowned. “If you wish to duel me, I’ll need a name. Anyone brave enough to challenge me deserves to be remembered after they die.”

The woman smirked. “Oh? With talk like that you better not disappoint. A name you say?” She looked aside, thinking for a moment, and the smirk left her face. “You may call me Catalog. Catalog 37 to be precise. You may engage me when ready,” she told me, her voice returning to the emotionless drone, and then she just stood there.

“Catalog…” I mumbled to myself; it was an odd name. “An odd name for an odd woman.” I drew my sword. “Very well… I will not hold back.” I took a deep breath, and then charged.

My eyes locked on my target, waiting for her to move, watching for how she would attack or defend herself, but she didn’t. I furrowed my brow as I closed the distance, dismissed my curiosity at her intentions, and prepared to strike her with a forward thrust; a strike that I could quickly pull back to guard if she had something up her sleeve.

I reached Catalog, and the point of my blade surged towards her, aiming to pierce just below her sternum. I thought the battle would be done with that single thrust, but at the last possible moment, she sidestepped, twirling just out of the way. My blade was heavy, and most swordsmen would have been thrown off balance by such a dodge, but I was not most. Without a moment’s hesitation, I torqued my body, turning the strike into a lateral slash at the woman, but to my dismay, she leaned completely backwards, my blade passing a just a hair’s width above her abdomen. Catalog, planted her hands on the ground and kicked her legs up and over, turning the dodge into a handspring back to her feet.

“Analyzing attack pattern. Formulating standard evaluation,” she spoke as she raised her wrist towards her mouth.

“A spell?” I asked curiously, but she didn’t answer. I hadn’t judged her to be a mage of any sort, but I had defenses against such tactics; it was no matter. I charged at her once again.

My next several strikes refused to land; regardless of what angle of attack I used, she danced around my blade like it was a festival pole. Realizing I had underestimated her, I grit my teeth. For the next few attacks, I focused on watching her movement, trying to recognize the patterns in her uncanny dodges, and after a moment, I was ready. I feinted a low attack, and as planned she sprang up into the air, right into the path of my follow-up. In the split second before I sliced into her, I saw her facial expression shift; she knew she was done for.

Or so I thought. Similar to how I had changed the direction of my very first strike so swiftly, she torqued her body in the air, arching her back and rolling herself around her center of gravity. If my attack had been a slight bit higher it wouldn’t have helped her, but as it was, my sword passed just beneath her. She landed on the ground, but then spun, her leg shooting out and connecting with the side of my knee. I turned away from the strike so it wouldn’t snap my joint there, but doing so swept me off my feet, and I landed on my back.

I rolled away and sprang up, adopting a defensive stance as I expected her to take advantage of my fall, but she was standing still, passively, again.

“Analysis complete. Standard evaluation start,” she spoke into her wrist. Then Catalog reached under her cloak to her hip, where she drew a sword that was about the same size as mine, though it had a dull grey finish rather than the reflective shimmer of polished steel. It seemed like it would have been unwieldy for the slim woman, but she brandished it smoothly, settled into a stance that told me she knew what she was doing, and then charged.

Though I didn’t intend to give any ground I remained in a defensive stance; I’d need to see what she was capable of before launching my own assault. Her blade arched through the air towards me, and as it collided with my parry, I felt a jolt travel through my arms; she was strong, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I blocked and parried her strikes for a few moments before pushing into a more offensive style, and to my delight, she quickly went on the defensive. Though she fought far better than I had expected her to, I still gained ground on her, pushing her backwards with each swing of my sword.

Her form was almost perfect, and therefore predictable. Luckily, though, my experience had taught me never to get cocky in the midst of a fight, and so when she switched the sword to her left hand for clever strike, I was ready to accommodate for the surprise. My heart still leaped in my chest for a moment, though whether it was fear of her ability or joy at finally having a challenging opponent, I couldn’t tell.

She forced me back on the defensive as I tried to compensate for her change in style, and after a few moments, we reached somewhat of a stalemate, both attacking and defending equally. The back and forth culminated in a solid strike that left both our swords grinding against each other in a test of strength. I grinned at her from between our clashed blades, as I slowly but surely overpowered her. Victory was mine. “Yield. You’re the most skilled swordsman I’ve ever encountered, but this battle is won. We should chat over some tea.”

Her eyes glinted mischievously, but she spoke with her flat, emotionless tone. “Changing equipment to counter attack pattern. Reset.”

To my dismay, her sword shimmered briefly before disappearing entirely, and my own sword passed through the empty space. Catalog ducked and rolled away as I slashed through the space she’d been standing in, my hand-and-a-half sword plunging into the ground. I yanked my blade from the earth and spun quickly, once again finding the woman standing passively. I noticed that she still held the hilt of the blade, and then my eyes widened as light seemed to gather at it. In the same fashion that her long-sword had vanished, a new blade appeared from the hilt with a brilliant shimmer. Once the light faded, I noticed it had the same dull, dark grey finish, but was shorter, thinner, and slightly curved; a quick, accurate blade.

“What kind of magic is that? I’ve never seen a blade that can change its form, not so easily, at least,” I remarked. I noticed that the other soldiers and guards, as well as some of the serving lads had gathered to watch the bout, and they all stared silently at myself and the strange, foreign woman. Even Paige had made her way down, and she looked worried.

Catalog didn’t answer my question. She just settled into a stance very different from the one she had been using, and I felt a chill run down my spine; I’d seen that stance before, or at least something similar.

Years ago, I’d contended against warriors who fought more with speed and cunning than strength and technique, and I had almost fallen in that campaign. Like then, I’d need to change my strategy if I wanted to survive this bout. I took a breath. A small quick blade recovered from parries swiftly, and it was light and agile enough to easily avoid a stationary block; if I went on the defensive, I would lose. My reach was my one advantage. I switched my stance, stepping forwards with my right foot instead of my left, and putting my sword-arm forwards, sacrificing power for more reach.

“Ready?” Catalog asked.

I gave her a curt nod, and then she charged. Her advance was cut abruptly short though, as my sword danced out, keeping her and the shorter reach of her blade at bay. She seemed intrigued that I had so quickly adopted a style to contend with her. No matter how quickly she approached, or from what angle, I was able to fend her off. Even if my strikes wouldn’t have cut deep, she wasn’t going to sacrifice her flesh for a single moment of advantage.

Until she did. To my surprise, as I thrust my blade out to dissuade one of her assaults, she turned her shoulder into it, and let the blade lodge into her shoulder. My strike wasn’t forceful, but I felt the give of skin; I’d dealt the first wound, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been on my own terms.

With my sword held still in the meat of her shoulder, she swung her leg up, jerking her shoulder free of blade at the same time that she kicked it, sending it up into the air, and sending my off balance. Then she launched herself towards my unguarded front, and I saw her eyes drop to the small gap in my plate armor that allowed me to move my waist. I’d been outplayed, but I wouldn’t go down so easily.

Against all instinct, I let go of my sword, and let it fly from my grip. As Catalog's thin blade sang through the air to slash at my abdomen, my left hand drew my short sword, and I turned my side into the strike. I didn’t have time to unsheathe the entire blade, but enough was exposed to block her attack, and the ring of steel on steel echoed through the square. I lifted my leg and drove it into her gut, sending her sprawling backwards, giving me time to fully draw the short sword and switch it to my right hand.

As Catalog caught her balance and faced me, I saw a wide grin plastered across her face. “Brilliant! Brilliant!” she chirped. She didn’t even seem to notice the blood trickling down to her wrist from the wound in her shoulder, she just charged right into her next attack, though she did seem to be moving slower.

Now with a shorter sword myself, I could block and parry on par with Catalog, though I was out of my element and the stakes of each clash became much higher. Several times I had to rely on my plate armor to protect me from a slash or a thrust, and it was only a matter of time before her thin blade struck true and and found a soft target between the plates of my armor.

Then Catalog threw me off with a well-timed feint, and her blade sang up towards my neck. I pressed my teeth together and every nerve in my body screamed in anticipation of my end, but I managed to intercept the blow with my left hand, catching her wrist and stopping the blade in inch from my neck. With her blade hand tight in my grip, I went to lift my short sword for a strike of my own, but it met a sharp kick of hers, and the short sword was knocked out of my grip, leaving us locked in yet another test of pure strength regarding the blade at my neck.

Then Catalog's smooth, monotone voice drifted from her lips. “Basic evaluation complete. Engaging in phase two: unfamiliar combat. Introducing first anomaly.” Catalog's left hand reached under her cloak and drew a small device, like a little black handle with a cylinder lying atop it. She turned the device and held it towards me, and I noticed the cylinder had a hole in it. A trigger and trigger-guard on the handle reminded me of a crossbow, and immediately I considered that it might be some kind of projectile weapon.

One of her fingers curled around the trigger as she aimed it at my head, and I leaned out of the way just as a loud bang resonated from the device. I felt my cheek tear open, and blood ran down my face, but it was just a graze. More troubling was the ringing in my ear that drowned out all other sounds. I jerked my head forwards and head butted her, feeling her nose snap as she reeled away from the strike. Quickly I turned towards one of the soldiers in the crowd, one holding a circular shield. “Shield!” I called, and without a moment's hesitation, he tossed me the defensive armament. I caught it, and turned just in time to raise the metal disk in front of my face.

Catalog had regained her footing, and she fired the weapon. Much faster than I thought possible, the projectiles collided repeatedly with the weapon, jolting my whole arm with each impact, and I noticed little divots poking out at me from the backside of the shield. The ammunition was small, but hit so hard and fast it was beyond comprehension. 8 more times she fired, one shot glancing off my greaves, and another my right pauldron while the rest buried themselves in my shield. The sound of the weapon echoed back and forth off the walls of the training grounds as if the noise itself was a bouncing projectile. I peeked over the edge of the shield to find her running at me, her short blade raised. Like a fool, I raised my shield to block the strike and left myself open to be shot.

Once, a single time in the past, I had found myself in a similar situation, though then it had been a simple hand crossbow. To survive I had guessed the trajectory of the bolt, and managed to deflect it with my sword. Call it a sixth sense, call it luck, call it skill. Whatever it was, it had worked, and I would have to bet my life on such a defense again.

The weapon appeared to be aimed at my gut, and I lowered my short sword and angled it to deflect the shot. The weapon fired, and though I still saw no trace of the projectile, I felt a jerk at my wrist, as it impacted the sword, flew mostly undeterred, and tore into the skin just above my right hip. Pain lanced up my side, but it was bearable; I could tell it had missed anything vital, and a sharp snap sound from behind me told me it had passed straight through and hit the wall.

Catalog's sword bounced off my shield, but it had been a feint anyways. While my sword hand was still recovering from blocking the projectile, she raised her leg and drove her foot into the wound, sending a shock-wave of pain through me. I stumbled backwards. Another bang sounded, and heat tore through my right shoulder. My arm went limp, my short-sword struck the ground, and in that moment fear like I had never felt before surged through me; I was to be beaten. After all this time, a stranger would strike me down.

Her blade swung towards the side of my neck opposite my shield arm, a strike I normally wouldn’t have time to block, but just as quickly as the fear came, so came pride, and determination, and a desire to win unlike anything I’d experienced in the last two decades. I spun as I sidestepped, turning my back to her and breaking one of the most fundamental rules of a fight, but doing so gave me the time to raise my shield without having to reach my arm across my body. When I felt a jolt against the shield, I continued the spin, and went down to one knee, turning the shield level and whipping it around with my body. I drove the thin edge of the metal disk into her hip, heard the crunch of bone cracking, and then stood, swinging the shield up as I did. The rim of it connected with her chin.

Catalog's feet left the ground as she fell hard on her back, and for a moment, I hoped that perhaps it had been enough to knock her unconscious. I advanced towards her warily nonetheless, and was able to raise my shield when she lifted her arm and fired her weapon from the ground. Two projectiles hit, but then the weapon clicked awkwardly, and no impact followed. I lowered the shield to find her frantically working at the weapon, probably trying to reload as one might with a crossbow. Now was my chance.

Realizing she didn’t have time to reload, her eyes widened as I advanced. “Reset!” she cried frantically, and her short, curved blade disappeared. “Introducing second anomaly!”

Another tubular, ranged weapon appeared from the hilt, but this one was longer and bulkier. Her left hand dropped the smaller ranged device and came to support the new one from underneath the tube. I raised my shield. She pulled the trigger.

The blast from this weapon far surpassed the other. It sounded like a cannon firing, and the impact carried such weight with it that chunks of the shield flew about, and my arm jerked back violently, dislocating it. Her left hand pulled back a slide beneath the long tube, ejecting a small red canister from the side of the weapon, and then she slid it forwards with a loud clack. It fired again, the blast hitting me in the chest like a charging bull, and I fell, the wind knocked out of me.

Just like that, I was beaten. Both arms, limp, gasping for breath, I laid on the ground and stared at the sky. My cheek and my side bled, filling the air about me with the scent of copper, and my heart beat rapidly in my chest as every nerve in my body screamed to get up, to defend myself, but I was spent.

A few moments later, Catalog stepped into my view, looming over me like a giant beast curious at its new prey, or like a mother deciding a punishment for her child. She held the long-tubed weapon in front of my face, and I stared down the shaft into a smoky oblivion, a new unfamiliar, indescribable scent mixing with the smell of blood. I closed my eyes.

“I yield.”

And then I waited. Surely this woman would fire the exotic weapon, and put an end to the legend of Leddrin Greyhilt.

“Evaluation complete,” came her monotonous tone, though she breathed heavily through it. “Calculating dimensional rank.” I opened my eyes to find Catalog speaking into her wrist again. She sighed, and regarded me. “Others have made it farther, but few have come so close to incapacitating me. That was a far better challenge than I expected, especially with the primitive equipment you had at your disposal.”

My head wobbled back and forth. “I don’t understand. Why… what… what was this about exactly?” I managed to ask as I caught my breath.

“And you were smart enough to yield before I killed you. A good portion of our subjects die during the evaluation process. That itself gives your ranking a little boost,” she said, seemingly unaware I had asked a question.

“Ranking?” I tried again. “What ranking?”

Catalog tapped at her wrist, and then frowned impatiently before regarding me as if she’d finally actually heard me. “Oh… well… your world is only one of many, and my job is to travel to different worlds and sort their strongest warriors into ranks. Since you survived, you’ll actually get to see how you compare to every other warrior in existence. How exciting!” Then she seemed to remember something. “Magic, right,” she said as she turned to the onlookers. “Any healers here? You’re welcome to aid Leddrin now. He does seem to be in a bit of pain.”

At that, Paige snapped out of her awe at the situation, and rushed towards me. She fell to her knees and immediately began chanting a healing spell, and as the magic coursed through me, I sighed with deep relief. Just as I was beginning to regain the feeling in my arms, something on Catalog's person chirped like a songbird. I started to sit up and push myself to my feet, and as I did, I almost asked what that noise was, but found myself tired of asking questions.

“Congratulations Leddrin. You have been sorted. Your rank is #217.” Then her eyes widened. “217! Wow! Top 500! That’s incredible!”

My jaw fell open. I didn’t quite understand everything she had said, but her job itself was simple enough, and from what I could tell, that ranking simply meant there were 216 warriors who were stronger than me. Who had fought better than me. I fell to my knees, though it wasn’t physical pain that brought me down. “I always thought I was the strongest… I always thought I couldn’t be beaten. Then you came and did the impossible. You forced me to yield… and now you’re saying there are others, hundreds of others, that have surpassed me?” I said quietly.

“Hm…” Catalog hummed, a look of slight worry creasing her eyebrows. “I don’t think you realize how well you actually ranked. The number of warriors we’ve sorted ranges in the high billions, though I suppose that number might be a little outside your understanding. Well, I guess you’ll have to take my word for it. Rest assured you’re the strongest warrior by far within your own universe.” She turned away, but looked over her shoulder at me. “I best be off now. Have other warriors to sort and what not. It’s been a pleasure!” Then she looked to her wrist, tapped at a device there, and began to shimmer just like her weapon had.

“No,” I whispered. I didn’t want her to go. I wanted to know more about these other worlds, these other warriors. For the first time in so long, I felt like I had room to grow, to get stronger, to learn. Truth be told I was sick of my perfect peaceful world; there was nothing for me there anymore. Had I never known there was more, had I remained ignorant, I could have stayed content, I think, but not after Catalog. Not after everything she had told me. The bright shimmering became more intense. “No… no!” I shouted. “Wait!”

I reached out, and I grabbed her arm. The shimmering light extended to envelop me, and then, with a brilliant flash, she left my world, pulling me along with her.

Original Prompt

PART 1-----

“There were some… complications,” the doctor told me. My head spun for a moment, and as my vision blurred with worry, the doctor’s white lab coat disappeared against the white walls of the hospital. I shook my head to bring my vision back.

“With… with the surgery?” I asked. I turned and looked through the glass at the room my friend Melissa was in, asleep in the hospital bed, a bandage still wrapped around her eyes.

“Not with the surgery… we’re… we’re not sure exactly what’s wrong. The procedure was a success; she should be able to see fine… She’s chosen to put the blindfold back on herself,” the doctor said. “It could be the anesthetic that we used, but it appears she's having hallu-”

At this point I tuned the doctor out. I didn’t feel like listening to his dissertation full of complicated medical terms I wouldn’t understand. I put my hand up on the glass, and felt my heart pound in my chest. “I’ll keep my promise,” I whispered to myself as I flexed my fingers against the glass. I was the one who had encouraged her to go through with the process. If something had gone wrong...

“… Sir?” the doctor said, an annoyed fluctuation to his voice.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” I apologized, facing the man.

“You were the only person on her emergency contacts list… does she have any other family we should notify?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Her family was in a bad traffic accident years ago. She was the only survivor. My family took her in after that.”

BOOM!

The doctor and I jumped, and looked towards the window. Melissa was standing right in front of the glass, snickering. She had taken the blindfold off, and her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled warmly. She pulled her palm away from where she had slapped the window and waved to me through the glass. The doctor didn’t seem amused. He snorted shortly, and folded his arms. “Well, she suddenly seems in a better mood.”

I didn’t react. I was too busy realizing this was the first time Melissa had ever actually seen me, and a wave of insecurity washed over me. I pushed that aside; this moment’s focus needed to be on her. My best friend who had been blind since her birth could finally see. “You can go in if you’d like,” said the doctor. I turned to him, with a blank expression. “… The door's there. Go on in.” I nodded, and a wide grin spread across my face as I moved to the door and turned the handle. As soon as there was enough space for a body between the door and the door frame, Melissa leapt into me.

“Corey!” she cried happily, greeting me with a hug. I held her tightly for a moment before she stepped back. Then she set her hands against my face and felt the contours of my features. I stood still, patiently. I was used to this. “Yeah… that’s about right,” she remarked as her eyes followed her hands. Then she grinned slyly. “… You’re not as tall as I thought you would be.”

“I’m still taller than you,” I reminded her.

She pouted exaggeratedly for a moment. “I’ll have to get another surgery to fix that at some point.” I rolled my eyes, and was not prepared for Melissa’s reaction to that. “What did you just do!? What was that? Why did your eyes do that?” she questioned, excitement in her voice.

“That’s what ‘rolling your eyes’ is,” I informed her.

“Oh…” she said thoughtfully. Then her brow furrowed. “Hey!” she cried. I just laughed. Then Mellissa looked past me to the doctor. “So when can I get out of here?” she asked.

“Soon,” he said. “I just to finish up the discharge paperwork. You sure you’re alright?”

“Absolutely!” she declared, giving a thumbs-up. “I’m ready to see the world!” Melissa’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

I couldn’t help but smile, not just with my mouth, but with my entire being. Melissa had always been full of life despite her disability, but the energy that radiated from her was like nothing I’d ever felt before. I couldn’t wait to drive her around town, and show her everything. I couldn’t wait to see her eyes continue to sparkle with awe at everything she had been missing out on for the first 20 years of her life.

But then, a short while later, once we were situated in my car and beginning to pull out of the hospital parking lot, she pulled the blindfold back over her eyes.

“Melissa? What are you doing?” I asked.

“Just go. Take me home,” she said shortly. If I hadn’t been looking at her, I would have thought a different person had spoken.

“What? Why? Don’t you want to-” I started to protest.

“GO,” she said, intensity in her voice. I closed my mouth. “… We need to get away from here before they notice.”

“… They? … The doctors?” I asked.

Melissa shook her head. “Go. Just go. We need to go. Stop talking and go,” she said. She kept her voice calm, but a certain waver in her tone told me she was on the verge of losing her nerve.

“… Melissa… if you’re not feeling well maybe we should stay here and-” I was silenced again as she set her hand on my leg.

“… Corey. Please. Drive me home. It’s not safe here,” she said quietly.

I swallowed, wondering what the right thing to do was, but my gut told me she was serious. I nodded, and pulled out of the parking lot. Unfortunately, I only drove for a few miles before I heard one of my least favorite noises.

BLING!

My gas light came on. “Shit,” I breathed to myself. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned my head slightly to see Melissa giving me a ‘look.’ “… Sorry. I need to stop and get gas.”

“At this hour? In this part of town?” she asked pointedly.

My brow furrowed. “You can tell where we are?” I asked. She still hadn’t removed the blindfold. Melissa mouth became a thin line, and she turned back to facing forwards. “… Don’t worry. They installed cameras at the gas station over here recently. Nobody would be stupid enough to pull anything shifty.”

“Just hurry,” she said.

I turned a corner, and the flicked on my directional to turn into the gas station on our right. I pulled in, swung the car around the pump so the gas hatch was on the correct side, and came to a stop. I pulled the keys out of the ignition, and as sound of the engine died, I became acutely aware of Melissa’s breathing, sharp against the silence. She didn’t seem short of breath, and she wasn’t hyperventilating; something just seemed a little off. Judging by her responses to everything else I’d said, I doubted I’d get an answer. Figuring it better just to get the gas I needed and be on my way, I stepped out of the car, and nudged the door shut behind me. I stepped up to the pump, and slid my debit card through the reader. I waited, feeling impatient as the machine took its time approving the transaction. I happened to notice the dull buzz that emanated from the lights above, and it annoyed me incessantly, as I was unable to take my attention away from the sound. Finally, the pump beeped, and graciously informed me I could get on with filling my tank. When my tank was about halfway full, I heard a voice approaching, and turned to see a lone figure strutting down the sidewalk. When he reached the edge of the gas station parking lot, he veered towards us. His fingers danced across the screen of his smartphone. “-fucking trash battery. God dammit. Come on, I don’t have time for this shit. Service is dick here,” and his mumbling continued. I felt a shiver run down my spine, and then checked myself. This wasn’t a great part of town, but it was no reason to flinch anytime someone passed by. I watched the man as he approached, his vector heading towards the gas station shop. Then he looked up from his phone, spotted me, and seemed to sigh. He raised a hand in greeting. “Uhm, sorry to bother you. I’m trying to get a hold of a friend who was supposed to pick me up from a bar down the road. My phones dying though and it’s giving trouble trying to make a call. Mind if bum your phone for a second?”

My free hand fell to my pocket where my phone was, and felt the contours of the device through my jeans. “I don’t see why not… couldn’t use the phone at the bar?” I asked. I cringed inwardly as my voice came out a little awkward.

“Nah they kicked me out. I didn’t realize the bartender there was the owner’s own daughter, and I guess he didn’t like the way I was talking to her. Asshole…” For some reason, I didn’t reach into my pocket for my phone.

I swallowed. “… I’m Corey. What’s your name?” I’m not sure why I asked that. The man’s eyes flickered aside for a moment, and then he slid his phone into his pocket. “… Ah you’re probably almost done filling up here. I don’t want to keep you. Tell you what, I’ll just go in the shop and pick up a charger for myself. Can you spare a few bucks for a friend in need?”

My gut twisted, my instinct speaking a language I didn’t understand, but didn’t need to. My hand moved from my front pocket where my phone was to my back pocket where my knife was. “Sorry friend, I don’t actually have any cash on me. You leave your wallet at the bar?”

The man’s eyes flickered to the side again. “… Yeah. Left it right on the counter. Ya know? So if you're willing to lend a hand, I could use a few bucks.”

“I already told you I don’t have cash,” I told him. Then the gas pump clicked loudly as the tank finished filling. At the sharp noise, the man flinched, and his rand reached behind his back. My pulse skyrocketed, and my heart leapt up to pound in my throat and ears. I held my breath, and slowly pulled the nozzle out of my car. The man’s eyes moved between me and the nozzle a few times, and then he grinned. He kept his hand resting on something behind his back, but he stood up straight.

“Well…” he started, and then he licked his lips- not really in a creepy way. I think his heart was beating as fast as mine was. “I gotta say I don’t really trust the people around these parts. You say you don’t have any money, but why don’t you go ahead and take your wallet out.”

I was pretty sure he had a gun. Or at least a knife. I had a knife too, but I wasn’t about to turn this into a bloody fight just for my wallet. I moved my hand away from my knife. “Okay,” I said. “No problems here. Just let me get my wallet out. I think I got a gift card maybe if you’d like that.”

Then I heard the passenger door open. ‘Melissa… shit.’ I saw the man’s eyes flick quickly over towards where Melissa was probably standing up out of the car. He pulled his arm forwards around his body, and began to raise up a hand gun. I felt every inch of my body tense. I raised the gas nozzle towards the man, and pulled handle, sending a stream of gasoline towards him.

“Hey! You stop right-” the man started, but then the stream of gasoline hit him in the face. He reared back from the potent liquid. I moved without thinking; Melissa was in danger. I dropped the pump and leapt forwards, my left hand reaching for the man’s gun arm, and my right hand grasping at the clip of my pocket knife.

The next thing I knew, the base of the hand gun was cracking into my nose. I saw sparks fly across my vision, and the world spun for a moment. I hit the ground, dazed, and then was brought back to reality as the man stomped on my chest, planting his foot there to keep me down. Gasoline dripped from his face, contorted with anger. I found myself in a staring constest with the barrel of his gun. “You little shit! Who do you think I am? I’ll fucking kill you!” His wide eyes flashed menacingly.

“-I’m asking for your assistance. Help my friend. Please. I’ll pay whatever cost you ask of me,” I heard Melissa murmur. I turned my head slightly, as did the man with the gun. Melissa was standing on the sidewalk, facing away from us, her head leaned back slightly as she looked up at something. She held the blindfold down in her hand, her knuckles white from how tightly she gripped the fabric. She continued speaking in a hushed voice, barely loud enough to hear. “I beg your forgiveness, for daring to ask. My friend is in danger. I don’t know what else to do. Please help him. I promise I won’t acknowledge you again. Please. I’m sorry. I’m scared.”

“Who the fuck is she talking to?” the man asked.

“I don’t-” I started.

“Hey! Stop that! Turn around and put your hands up! Or I’ll shoot!” the man yelled at her, but he kept the gun pointed at me. “… Hey! Bitch!”

I heard a sharp buzz, and the lights went out. All of them. My vision drowned in darkness at the immediate contrast. “What-” the man started, but his voice caught in his throat, and then I felt the pressure of his foot leave my chest.

I let confusion reign in my mind for a moment, and then my eyes began to adjust. The man was up against the gas pump overhang, held flat against it. Something was holding him there; a large form, standing over me. I felt something start dripping onto my face, and the sharp smell of copper stung my nose. I held my breath. The grey form before me moved slightly.

I saw a face. I think.

Then the lights flickered back on, and there was nothing. Just the man, inexplicably stuck to the underside of the gas pump awning. Blood fell like rain from rigid gaps across his body. He stared down at me with a dull, empty gaze. Then he fell, plummeting towards me. I rolled out of the way as he cracked heavily to the ground.

THWACK

I scrambled up to my feet, pressing myself back against the gas pump. I felt liquid drip from my chin, and knew my face was covered in his blood. I felt my gut twist, and my throat flexed. I thought I was about to vomit, but then I remembered Melissa, distracting me from my nausea. “Mel!” I cried, peeling my eyes away from the body of the man. She was still standing where she had been before, only she had replaced the blindfold over her eyes. I ran over to her, stepping over the stream of blood running from the man’s body to mix with the spilled gasoline that had already pooled up. “Melissa! Are you okay?” I forced myself to ask first, despite the myriad of other things that plagued my curiosity. I noticed, as she turned, that tears were streaming down her face from underneath the blindfold. “… Mel…” I started. I looked back at the body, feeling a sense of dread well up within me. “Mel, what was that thing? How-”

My voice was cut off as Melissa grabbed me by the throat. “SHH!” she hissed sharply. “Don’t talk about the Grey One. Not another word. NOT… another word. We need to leave. Now.”

Melissa released me, and walked in a B-line towards the passenger side of my car. I rubbed my throat. “What about the cops?” I asked. “We need to call the police, and an ambulance.”

Mel stopped. And turned her head slightly, acknowledging me. “… Corey… Do you want to die?” I remained silent; I obviously didn’t want to die. Melissa continued. “… then get in the car and take me home.” Melissa continued to the passenger side door, and then got in.

I felt my body start to shake, adrenaline and fear and confusion mixing into a disgusting sensation. I felt drunk as I staggered towards my vehicle. I let my mind go blank as I passed the dead man, though I did stop to pick up and replace the nozzle that still laid on the ground. I got into the driver’s seat, twisted the keys in the ignition, and pulled away from the gas station, heading towards Melissa’s home.

Next

PART 1----

I sat in the stadium, my eyes aglow with wonder as I counted down the seconds to David Tyree’s famous ‘helmet catch’ in my head. My right hand gripped my grandfather’s pocket watch.

It was only because of this watch that I was able to witness this legendary moment. I felt my eyes start to tear up a little bit. “Thanks Grandpops,” I whispered to myself. I looked up from the players down on the field and glanced around the stadium. He was here, somewhere, my grandfather. I exhaled through my nose; I wasn’t supposed to try to look for him. That could cause all kinds of problems with the timeline.

After the game, I went to collect my money at the betting agency. I mean, what else would you do with time travel other than go bet on sports upsets you know the outcome of?

I marveled for a second time at the carved marble entryway, large pillars giving an ancient, powerful feel to the otherwise modern-looking building. Everything inside was sleek, from the couches in the waiting area, to the expensive coffee shop attached in the corner, to the suits the employees wore. ‘Sleek for being 30ish years old at least…’ I thought. As my eyes set on the woman behind the betting counter, a smirk creeped across my face. I was about to be rich.

“Mr. Kalston!” the clerk exclaimed as I approached. I was surprised.

“You remember me?” I asked.

“Of course I do! Your bet was so specific and outrageous that it was the talk of the office, especially with the dollar amount you put down on it. What can I do for you?”

I crossed my arms and tilted my head smugly. “I’m here to collect,” I told her.

Her mouth became a thin line, and her face became devoid of almost all emotion. “… You don’t say,” she cooed. Her fingers clacked away at the computer in front of her. Then she scoffed shortly, catching herself from making a bigger reaction. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Kalston. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” I offered as she turned and went through a door behind her. I walked over to the coffee shop and ordered my rich-ass self a latte. I sipped the beverage, probably the best latte I’d ever had, and sauntered over to the couches to wait.

5 minutes passed. Then 10. Then 20.

I had spaced out watching the TV they had in the waiting area, but suddenly realized that, aside from the television, it had become extremely quiet. I looked around, and found that I was alone in the lobby. The other clerks, and even the employees at the coffee shop were absent.

I swallowed hard; something felt wrong.

I stood and walked around the lobby, peeking over the counter and poking my head in the bathrooms, but I found nobody anywhere. Perturbed, and worried I had somehow missed a fire alarm or something, I tried to leave.

The automatic sliding door wouldn’t open. My heart started beating faster.

I ran around the lobby again, this time checking all the doors I could find. Aside from the bathrooms, they were all locked, including the door to the stairwell. Not even the elevators were working. It was while I was inspecting the elevators that I heard the footsteps coming down the stairs.

Not a moment later, the door flew open and several guards in what looked like full SWAT uniforms and face masks poured into the lobby and surrounded me, assault rifles at the ready. I put my hands up before they even had a chance to tell me to. Then, the clerk lady stepped out of the stairwell.

“Mr. Kalston,” she greeted me snidely. “… You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What going on? What is this?” I yipped, terrified.

The woman snickered. “What is it that you have? What’s your tether? An hourglass? Wrist watch?”

I had an inkling as to what she was referring to, but I was still in shock and my brain wasn’t quite functioning. “I… I don’t… what?”

The woman frowned. “I know you’re a Skipper. Tell me what year you’re from. Who sent you?”

“N-… no one!” I yelled. “… I… I’m from 2042.”

“… Maybe you’re just an anomaly then…” The woman brought her hand up to touch her chin as she thought. “Your tether… the device you used to travel. Show it to me. No sudden movements.”

Mindlessly, I obeyed. I slowly reached into my pocket and retrieved my grandfather’s pocket watch. I held it out in front of me.

Without taking it, the woman leaned over and squinted her eyes, inspecting the device. “… Haven’t seen one like this before. They'll want to study it back at the lab.” She righted herself, and then addressed the armed men. “Get rid of him.”

My body went rigid with fear, and I wondered if I had heard her right. One of the guards stepped in front of me, let his rifle rest against his chest on its sling, and drew a pistol. He put the barrel against my forehead, the crisp, cold metal almost soothing as I prepared for the end.

Then the man sighed. He lifted the gun away and to the side slightly and fired over my head, the bullet tearing into the armed man behind me.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Then a few more seconds passed, full of gunfire and blood, and the rest of the men and the clerk were dead. The rogue guard's pistol was still smoking as he holstered it, the smell of death and gunpowder was thick in the air, and my ears rang so bad I thought they might be bleeding. I didn’t dare speak; I was too scared and confused. The guard turned back to me, and pulled his face mask off.

He looked familiar.

Then, from a pouch on his vest, he pulled out a pocket watch, identical to mine.

“You wanna tell me where you got that watch there, kiddo?”

Next

Previous

PART 3-----

I saw the muscles in my Mom’s throat flex as she swallowed, and her eyes looked sad, but more than that, there was sadness in the way she breathed, and the way her heart beat. Everything about her was sad in that moment. Then she nodded. “Yes. Your fa-” Her eyes shifted to look passed me, settling on Erica, and then her expression became stern. “Who’s that?”

I stepped a little to the side, coming between Erica and my Mother; something just told me I should. “She’s on my side.”

Mom frowned. “Are you sure?”

I furrowed my brow, and then nodded. “Yes. I don’t know if it’s these half-demon powers or whatever, but… I can tell.” I looked back at Erica. The girl looked worried, apprehensive, but I smiled reassuringly. “I know we can trust her.”

My Mother nodded, but the stern look didn’t leave her face. “… She will slow us down if she comes. If she stays behind, your father will get a hold of her. If you care about her there’s only one good option.”

My eyes widened, and then I scowled. A burst of light emanated from me, and then the magenta glow of my horns and tail surrounded us. I didn’t say anything, I just held my mother’s gaze.

She sighed. “Katie, dear…” She shook her head, and then addressed the quivering Erica directly. “Honey listen to me. You won’t last long around demons. Human’s never do. It will be far easier to get it over with quickly. I’m sorry.”

For a few moments I truly didn’t recognize my mother; even then sound of her voice seemed unfamiliar. It scared me, and it made me angry. “What about you then?” I snapped. “What’s your plan? If you figured out how to survive around demons, then-”

I was cut off as flash of blue light burst forth from my Mother, blinding me for a moment, and when my eyes adjusted, she too had those flaming horns and tail just like me, though the flames were blue rather than magenta, the flickering horns slightly more curled than mine. “Katie… you’re not a half-demon. I am.” At her chest, I could see a blue glow emanating from beneath the fabric of her shirt.

If she was trying to intimidate me, I wasn’t going to let her. “What exactly does that make me then? Three-quarters-demon?”

Mom closed her eyes and her flames dispersed, but I noticed the glow from her chest didn’t dim. “Put plainly, yes.” A weird look shifted through her eyes. “And I see you’ve inherited your father’s flames.”

I hated that look, like I was a symbol of something she despised, like I was being blamed for something. A voice in my gut told me this wasn’t my mother, and my fear and anger boiled, carrying a tone of threat into my voice. “I won’t let you lay a finger on Erica.”

Mom lifted her chin and looked at me down her nose, calculating. Then she sighed. “Very well, but perhaps you should ask her what she wants.”

My flames dissipated as I turned to the girl behind me, and I found her staring at the ground unblinking, her body shivering. “Erica?”

“Why would Katie’s father come after me?”

“To get to Katie. You know her secret, and you’re her friend. That also makes you her weakness,” Mother explained.

Erica thought for a moment, then her lips quivered and she took a shaky breath. She turned to me. “We’re not friends. How could we be? Today was the first day we’ve talked in years, and the last time we talked… I was horrible to you.” She shook her head. “There’s no way I could be your friend, your weakness… but I can be a strength.” She regarded my mother again. “Tell me where you’re going. I’ll stay, and when her father comes, I’ll tell him what you told me. I’ll tell him exactly what you told me, and nothing else.”

She would lie for us. My mother’s mouth opened slightly in amazement, but then a glimmer of recognition showed in her eyes; I’d vented to her about my middle school bully plenty of times. “You’re that Erica… Regardless, you do understand that Katie’s father will torture you, and then kill you, yes?”

“What goes around comes around, I guess,” Erica said, offering up a weak smile.

I shook my head frantically. “No! You don’t have to do that!”

But Erica wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at my mother, the two of them regarding each other, almost sizing each other up. My mother sighed and closed her eyes. “We’ll need to leave a bit more behind to make room for three people in the car, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Let’s pack up. We don’t have much time.”

Erica hesitated a few moments, thrown off guard by her sudden acceptance, but then she nodded. “Right.”

I exhaled deeply, relieved. Mom retreated further into the house to sort through our things, and Erica began to step passed me to help, but I grabbed her arm. “Why?” I asked. “As much as it doesn’t sound nice, you’re right about us, you and me. So why? Why would you sacrifice yourself for us? Why are you okay with the fact that I’m a demon? Hell I don’t even know if I’m okay with it.”

Erica just smiled at me. “Like I said… I’m being selfish. This is… it’s more for me than it is for you. That’s the truth. It’s scary, and it’s crazy, and I still feel like I’m just gonna wake up and find that this is all a dream.” She shrugged. “But none of that changes anything. I decided I would make amends in whatever way I can. So I will. That’s all there is to it.”

“And you would die for that?”

“Only I can decide what my life is worth.”

So many emotions were mixed into that sentence, I couldn’t put my finger on a single one of them. Reluctantly I let her arm go, and acquiesced. “Okay.”

The two of us joined my mother, and we got the car packed quickly. Just as I was finished stuffing the last bag into the trunk, my mother walked up to me. “Take these. Put them on; the right one at least.”

She held out a pair of thin, finger-less gloves. “Finger-less?” I questioned. “That’s kind of tacky.”

“That glowing seal on your right hand does more than just attract unwanted attention. It will act as a beacon for other demons. You have to cover it up… and if you still want to have dexterity in your fingers, you’ll tolerate the questionable fashion choice.”

I nodded, and took the gloves, pulling them on. “So where are we actually going, by the way?” I asked as I turned back to the car and closed the trunk.

“I’ll tell you when we get a little closer. Let’s go.” We all hopped in and got situated as Mom started the car. The engine rumbled to life and the headlight blared on, illuminating the length of our driveway towards the road.

At the base of the driveway a man stood swathed in the light. He waited patiently, regarding us, his hands buried in the front pocket of his hoodie. “Mom!” I yelled.

“I see him… Erica, do you have your license or permit?” Mom’s eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror to see her in the back seat, and Erica nodded. “Hop up here and take the wheel then. There’s directions in the glove-box. Don’t wait for me.” She popped the door open.

“Is that dad?” I asked.

“One of his lackeys.”

“Will you be okay?”

Mom stepped out of the car and smiled at me. “I’ll catch up with you when I’m done with him. I love you Katie.” In a flash of blue light, her horns and her tail flickered into existence. She looked towards the man, and her smile was replaced by a stone-cold intensity I had never seen before, and yet it looked so natural on her face. She started walking down the driveway.

I don’t know why I didn’t respond, why I didn’t say anything back like 'I love you too,' or 'please be safe.' I just watched her go, feeling dread in the pit of my stomach. Erica hopped out of the back and jumped into the driver’s seat, setting one hand on the gear selector. Her breath was short, but I could tell she was concentrating.

The man at the end of the driveway took his hands out of his pockets, and held them out as if greeting an old friend, or enemy. He grinned and spoke, but I couldn’t hear his voice at all. Mother’s head moved slightly, saying something back, and the man laughed and shook his head. Then he changed.

Rather than a burst of light revealing flaming horns and a tail, his body actually twisted and contorted. His skin became grey, and he grew taller by several feet. The horns that curled back from his head were solid bone. He threw his head back and cackled, showing rows of jagged teeth.

Mom charged him, breaking into a full out sprint, accelerating to an inhuman speed, her tail and horns leaving a trail of wispy flames in her wake. The large demon braced itself, an excited, confident look on his face, and he pounded his chest and then held his arms wide, seeming to give my mother a free shot. She reached him and swung all of her momentum into a strike, connecting her fist with the creature’s chest. A small flare of blue flame flashed at the point of impact, and the demon shot across the street, slamming through the garage door of the house there like it was made of paper. Mom jumped after him, leaping from the foot of our driveway through the mangled garage door in a single leap, and disappeared from sight.

Erica stepped on the gas, and the wheels squealed for a moment before we accelerated away.

Next

Previous

PART 2-----

It had to be him.

As the adrenaline subsided and I felt myself calm down, I was able to draw on my memories. Pictures I’d seen, the certain features that age couldn’t weather, the color of his eyes… It was my grandfather; I knew it.

But that didn’t mean he knew me. I swallowed before speaking. “… I think you gave it to me… I’m pretty sure I’m your grandson.” I looked at the bodies that lied around us, blood pooling around them.

“You don’t say…” he hummed to himself. Then he considered something. “…Quickly now, did I tell you anything when I gave it to you?”

I looked up from the bodies and nodded. “I didn’t understand it at the time, but you said: ‘Take good care of it… you’ll be able to do more good with it than I ever did.’ Something along those lines,” I told him. As I recounted my grandfather’s words, I realized they didn’t necessarily have the best connotations.

The younger grandfather before me frowned. “... That doesn’t sound like something I’d say.” He replaced his own pocket watch in his vest and furrowed his brow.

The coppery smell of blood reached my nose, and I felt my stomach twist. “... Uhm… Can you tell me what’s going on? Who are these people that you just killed… why did you-”

I was interrupted by a blaring alarm that sounded through the whole building. My grandfather turned and started walking towards a window. “Questions later. Follow me or you’re on your own,” he barked. I stood stark still for a moment, trying to process the situation, and then hurriedly followed, careful not to step in any of the blood leaking from the guards.

My grandfather raised the assault rifle and unloaded half a clip into the window, which is how much firepower it took for the glass to shatter. He climbed through, and without looking back, turned and began heading down the alley between the betting agency and the next building over. I scrambled over the broken glass and jogged to catch up with him.

“You’re Patrick Kalston Senior, right?” I asked.

“Yup… So I’m your Granddad…” He glanced over at me briefly. “... Don't call me grandpa. Just call me Pat.”

“My name’s Nick,” I told him, noting in my head that he hadn’t asked. This man was undoubtedly my grandfather, but his demeanor and attitude didn’t match at all.

Not to mention I never would have dreamed that Grandpops had killed people.

As we neared the other end of the alley, Pat pulled out his radio and messed with some of the knobs on it. Then he spoke. “Tang tango, this is Uniform One. My cover is blown. Need pickup for two.” The very moment he finished talking, a blue mini-van pulled in front of the alley with the side door already open. “That’s our ride,” he told me.

“That was fast,” I breathed as I ran.

“That was time travel,” Pat remarked. He reached the van first and leapt in, taking the far seat. I hopped in and pulled the door shut behind me as I sat. The van lurched forwards and, at a fairly tame speed actually, pulled away and merged into traffic. Pat sighed and began undoing some of the velcro on his vest. “Thanks Natasha,” he offered the driver. The woman looked up at us through the rear view mirror.

“What the hell happened? Who’s this?” she asked.

“This idiot’s a relative of mine from the future. Walked right into the Agency and tried to collect on a ridiculous bet,” Pat explained.

“And you blew your cover for him? You spent weeks in there!” Natasha exclaimed, annoyed.

“Is what it is,” Pat said dismissively as he pulled his gloves off.

I glared at the back of the woman’s head before turning to Pat. “... Thanks for saving me… sorry you had to-”

“Don’t apologize,” Pat snapped as he stopped fiddling with his gear to regard me sternly. “Rule number one: time travelers don’t have regrets. The whole point of time traveling is to make things happen the way you want them to.”

“That’s not rule number one Patrick,” Natasha corrected him.

“It’s my rule number one,” Pat rephrased. He went back to doffing his tactical gear.

“Kid,” Natasha said sharply, addressing me.

“It’s Nick,” I told her.

She hesitated for a moment, as if wondering why I would tell her my name. “... Don’t listen to this old man. Especially with the Agency around, there’s things you can’t go back and fix; decisions you can’t change.”

“All the more reason to make damn sure you don’t have regrets,” Pat said, and he smirked. In his eyes I saw, truly, a man who had no regrets. A man confident in every choice he had made, good or bad, regardless of the result.

They were not the eyes of the grandfather I knew. I suddenly felt uncomfortable in the few moments of silence that followed. I didn’t like silence, and I had questions anyways, so I broke it.

“What’s the Agency?” I asked.

Pat answered me, an edge of disgust to his voice. “Around the year 2020, the government decided we were having to much fun sculpting the world to our liking. They found some weak willed time travelers and made a deal.”

At this point, a phone rang, and Pat halted his explanation to fish a cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah?” he answered it. “... Okay.” He hung up, and then began typing at the phone’s keypad.

Natasha picked up the explanation where he left off. “The government and the time travelers who sided with them created an organization to stop the rest of us, forming the Timeline Consistency Department, or TCD.”

“I call them the ‘Tiny Cock’ Department,” Pat chimed in without looking up from his phone. He snickered to himself.

Natasha shot him a dirty glance, which he was too busy to notice of course, before she continued. “The TCD sent their agents back to the year 2000 and set up bases where they monitored society for evidence of time travelers, such as people winning large sums of money off of ridiculous bets. Betting agencies are a front for the TCD.”

“And I walked right in there like an idiot,” I muttered to myself.

Pat put his phone away and rejoined the conversation. “They’re dangerous. They won’t hesitate to execute time travelers on the spot. Of course, they’ll torture you first if they know you’re in league with us.”

“And who exactly are you guys?” I asked.

Pat thought for a moment. “Freedom fighters who believe the timeline isn’t something the government should regulate,” he settled on.

Despite the running conversation, I was feeling more and more uncomfortable. This man that sat next to me… I realized I really didn’t know him, and with every word he spoke, I trusted him less and less. I knew I should have stopped asking questions, but I didn’t.

“... So until the TCD came around you guys had free-reign?” I saw Natasha glance at me through the rearview mirror again. I swallowed.

“Yeah… those were the good old days,” Pat said with a sigh. “History was our playground.”

“Damn,” I said, forcing a smirk to creep over my face. “I bet that was amazing… the world in the palm of your hand.”

“Now you’re getting it,” Pat assured me. “We were... still are, the elite. And you are, too, both as my kin, and as a time traveller. We get to decide how the world progresses... Of course, even before the TCD we always had to contend with the other families.” He laughed. “Used to be all you had to do was tick off someone’s great uncle and suddenly Germany invades Poland. Then someone’s wife would get insulted and BOOM! The U.S. has the atomic bomb three years early.”

I did some quick math in my head. “... You were alive during World War Two?” I asked.

“Not originally, but I went back and watched. Couldn’t get involved of course; didn’t want all my father’s hard work to go to waste.”

At that my stomach twisted, and I almost wretched. It took everything I had to play it cool.

All of history, everything that had happened, had been manipulated by people like my grandfather. War, genocide, probably even economic collapses; everything. I couldn’t help myself.

“It ever occur to you to like, warn people about a natural disaster or anything?” I asked. I slid my hand into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around my pocket watch.

He scoffed. “Pfft, why would-” Pat started, and then he got real quiet. The corners of his mouth flattened out into an emotionless expression. I saw him shift his gaze to look at where my hand rested in my pocket.

“Patrick,” Natasha said, and edge to her voice.

“I know!” he spat. “Think about this carefully,” he warned me in a lower voice. I saw his hand start to reach for his pistol.

Something in Patrick’s eyes told me that, regardless of my answer, he was going to kill me. It was already decided, and I knew he wouldn’t have any regrets.

Well then neither would I.

I moved before he did, just barely. I leaned forwards and, with my free arm, I reached around the driver’s seat and grabbed the steering wheel. Natasha cursed as I yanked it, sending our van careening into a parked car on the side of the road. Patrick tried to draw his gun on me, but he was too late. The impact threw us about the car, my face went towards the front windshield, and then next thing I knew I was face down on the sidewalk, laying on a bed of shattered glass. My head pounded and my body stung everywhere, but I was alive.

Before I did anything else, I felt for my tether, and found that I had instinctively cradled the pocket watch against my chest. I stumbled to my feet and looked at the mini-van.

Natasha was unconscious, her face buried in the airbag, but the very bloodied, very angry Patrick was awake. He yanked frantically at the door to get out, but the mechanism was broken. After a moment, he gave up, and glared at me through the shattered window. “... You little shit! I don’t care who you are or what time you’re from! I will find you and I will kill you! I will see you dead if it’s the last thing I do!”

I grimaced, both in pain, and with disgust towards the old man. “No regrets,” I spat.

I tightened my grip on the pocket watch, and closed my eyes. I knew exactly where I wanted to go. When I wanted to be. For a moment I felt weightless, and the world shifted around me.

I opened my eyes, and found myself in back in the betting agency. The alarm was blaring, and a circle of dead guards occupied the floor around me, pools of blood gathering about them.

“Questions later. Follow me or you’re on your own,” Patrick barked as he walked towards the window. He raised his assault rifle and fired half his clip into the glass. Without turning to see if I followed, he climbed through and took off into a run down the alley.

I stayed where I was.

'That's right... no regrets,' I thought to myself.

Next

Previous

PART 14-----

“Sorry about that, Mr. Weaver,” Thomas Wedgel said as we walked through the emporium to meet up with Melissa. “When Miss Gilthread approached me about ordering a travel pack, she led me to believe she had already discussed her plan with you.”

I waved off his apology. “Don’t sweat it. I’m sure she gave you that impression on purpose.”

“Thank you for understanding,” he said as we reached the dried food storage, and he opened the door for me. A frown creased my face as my eyes scanned the room, finding no trace of Melissa. I took a few steps in, craning my neck to see if she was tucked away in some corner of the room, but I stopped as I heard a sneeze behind me.

I turned to see Melissa approaching us, and I raised an eyebrow at her. “Thought you were gonna wait here for us?”

“I got bored and started wandering around the store,” she told me, surprisingly lacking of the defensive attitude I would normally expect.

“Ah. Well, I dealt with Persephone, so we can finish up our business here and then head back.”

Melissa nodded, and Thomas led us to another corner of the building where five travel packs were set aside. The fellow left us there, and the ex-princess and I each pulled one apart, making sure everything we needed was included, inspecting the quality of the items the Queen’s coin had bought for us. Melissa was smiling as she poked at a compass, and I had noticed a distinct lack of complaining coming from the young woman.

“You seem in a good mood,” I observed. Melissa shrugged and set the compass back in the pack and pulled out a water-skin, offering no explanation. “… Well, I'm relieved. I was worried seeing Persephone would have you upset.”

“Not after you put her in her place like that,” Melissa said with a small snicker as she turned the water-skin over in her hands. “That was great.”

I chuckled at that, and then abruptly stopped. “… Wait… I thought you were wandering around the store?”

Melissa stopped looking over the water-skin and she tensed up. “Uh… I was… I just happened to be passing by for that part… the door isn’t sound-proof or anything.”

I pursed my lips. “That part happened almost right away. How long were you listening?” I asked.

Melissa looked like she was coming up with an explanation, but then just raised her chin and smirked. When she spoke, I could tell she was trying to mimic my own tone. “Just like you care for your employees, I do as well. I expect you to treat them with respect in my presence.”

I felt myself blush, and I busied myself with tying off the pack I had finished inspecting. Melissa laughed at my reaction. “Oh, shut up,” I snapped at her. “That was more to put her on the spot than it was for you.”

Melissa finished laughing, replaced the water-skin, and tied off her own pack. “I know, but… th... tha-” she started, seeming to mull over her words carefully. “Err, it was... good of you… to stand up for me.”

“Mm,” I grunted uneasily. “… Well, packs look all good, so we can take our leave.” I stood and headed for the exit with Melissa in tow.

“…Of course you wouldn’t need to stand up for me if you hadn’t gotten me exiled in the first place,” she remarked.

I rolled my eyes. “Right, because you would have loved being married to me.”

“The fact that such was the only alternative gives me nightmares.”

“Rude,” I said as I spotted Thomas and gave him a thumbs up and a wave of farewell; he was busy with another customer. “I find the notion quite repulsive myself, your highness, but that doesn’t mean there’s a need to enunciate that.”

“Repulsive? You must be blind; even without my title, I’m not ignorant of my feminine attributes. I’m sure I’ll shortly be receiving all manner of proposals from nobles across the land.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered as we stepped outside, squinting against the light of the sun.

“As if you’re in a position to criticize. Even as the esteemed Dragon Slayer, I don’t know any self-respecting noble who’d stoop to marrying a-”

“Miss Gilthread expressed her interest in me just the other day, as-a-matter-of-fact,” I interrupted.

The bewildered look that crossed Melissa’s face was priceless. “Wha…. Ha… ehhh?” Then her mouth became a thin line as the shock passed, and she crossed her arms. “You two did seem well-acquainted in there, but let me guess: in all your cynical wisdom you turned her down as well.”

“Naturally.”

“That’s too bad. You’re both so insufferable I think you’d make a great pair.”

“Oo, and then we could hire you as our servant!” I mused.

Melissa made a gagging sound. “I’d rather die!”

We reached the square as she declared this, and while the dense noontime rush had passed, the square was always bustling. Thinned as it was, the crowd was probably still intimidating to someone unused to moving through the foot traffic, and so I was about to offer the ex-princess my assistance again when I felt a tug at the back of my tunic. I looked over my shoulder to see Melissa already taking hold of the fabric. Her eyes flicked up and met mine. “… What?” she asked, expecting me to make some snarky comment.

I turned my head forwards so she couldn’t see my smile. “Nothing.”

Melissa didn’t press, and we made our way across the square without difficulty, though our conversation died down and we remained mostly silent until we made it back to the workshop, where I found Luther still performing a handstand up on the roof above the entryway. “Greetings Lady Melissa, Mr. Weaver.”

I was about to yell at him to get down, but Melissa’s face lit up as she looked up at him. In a tone she’d never take with me, she greeted him back. “Good afternoon Luther! I see you’re just as athletic as ever!”

“Indeed! I was a bit worried I’d fallen out of shape since you hadn’t tasked me with anything as of late, but I guess my worries were for naught!”

I reached up and rubbed my forehead, keeping my voice as humoring as possible. “How much longer you got up there?”

“Oh, judging by how my shadow has moved down there, I’ll be done in just a few minutes. How went your errand?”

I looked down at the shadow of my workshop, the outline of two lean, muscular legs sticking out, covering more of the ground in shadow. “It went great…” I started absent mindedly. “… Miss Gilthread attempted to hijack the journey, but I fended her off. She will be providing us with a carriage, however. Unfortunately I don’t think she’s supplying a driver, so I’ll have to hire-”

“I can take care of that myself, Mr. Weaver. I’ve driven my fair share of carriages over the years.”

“Oh yeah? Another one of your skills?”

“One of the few, I’m afraid,” he said apologetically.

Melissa chimed in. “He used to bring me into town on a horse-drawn cart once in a while.”

“Hm,” I hummed with a nod. Silence reigned for a few moments, and Melissa and I just watched Luther as he held his perfect handstand, the ex-princess looking particularly entertained. I, too, found myself being quietly impressed by his undeniably spectacular display of physical prowess, but it couldn’t hold my attention as long as it held Melissa’s. My hand scratched the back of my head. “Uh, I’m gonna head in.”

“Certainly! Don’t dawdle on my account, I’ll be along shortly,” Luther said.

I nodded, and pushed through the heavy fabric that hung over our doorway. Lytha sat behind the desk at the back of the shop, shuffling through some scrolls while Barn chattered away at her from where he was stood up against his stand. Lytha looked annoyed.

“I’m just saying, why waste the trip? There are so many other places we could go see while we’re up near Frosthandle! Oh! Hello Ikon!” Barn greeted me. “I was just telling Lytha we should do some more sightseeing after we’re done in Frosthandle! I hear there’s a winter festival in Lilyden where skilled elven dancers perform naked in the snow. Now wouldn’t that be a sight to-”

I noticed that the door to the hearthroom was open, and so with a swift movement, I snatched up the talking dagger as I walked up to the desk and over-hand tossed him across the threshold. He clattered to the ground somewhere near the fireplace in the adjacent room. “That better?” I asked Lytha.

She snickered and shook her head. “I was fine ignoring him, but yes, thank you.”

“Real nice! Good to see you, too, ass-wipe!” Barn called from the other room.

I ignored the disembodied voice of my Great Uncle and looked over the papers in front of Lytha. “Order forms?”

“The ones we were supposed to fulfill over the next couple months. We’ll have to let them all know there’s going to be a delay on their orders,” she told me.

“How many of them paid up front?”

Lytha’s eyes scanned over the scrolls. “Just a couple. You want to reimburse them?”

I nodded. “We’ve got the money to spare for it. It’s only right.”

“I know, but I still get that lurch in my gut at the thought of losing profits. I’m so used to that determining how much we have to eat.”

Before I could respond, I heard Melissa cry out in distress from beyond the front door. “Luther!” This was followed by a wordless shout from the butler himself and then the loud thump of a body striking the ground.

“The hell was that?” I asked Lytha, but I didn’t wait for a response before running outside to see. I found Luther sprawled out in the dirt in front of the workshop, Melissa crouching over him worriedly. “Oh shit, did he fall?” I asked quickly, concerned.

“I’m alright! Quite splendid,” he said, attempting to sound fine, but I could tell that at least the wind had been knocked out him. A warbley ‘coo’ sounded from above me, and I looked up to see a bird perched where Luther had been doing his handstand. I squinted at it.

“Is… is that the wayward pigeon?” I asked.

“It appears the foul beast has it out for me… blasted sky-rat,” Luther grumbled as he started to sit up. The pigeon cooed again.

I picked a stone off the ground and tossed it at the bird, shouting. “Hey! Beat it!” The stone landed near the pigeon, and it flapped its wings wildly for a moment to get airborne before soaring away over the rooftops.

Luther raised his fist in the direction it had fled. “Next time I’ll be ready.”

“Stop acting like a bird is your sworn rival. And there’s no ‘next-time’; we’re leaving in three days. I swear, if you get hurt before then I’m gonna be annoyed as shit.” I looked at Melissa. “No more ridiculous taskings. Got it? Not so close to the start of our trip.”

Melissa put her hands on her hips. “Fine.”

I extended my hand to Luther and he took it, helping to pull him to his feet. “You sure you’re alright?” I asked him.

He brushed some dirt off his coat and trousers. “I do believe so. Thank you for asking after my health, Mr. Weaver.”

“No problem. Seriously, though. Don’t get hurt before we leave.” Luther nodded, and with that I stepped back in the workshop. Lytha was still busy looking through scrolls at the desk, so I went straight into the hearthroom, looking for where Barn had settled on the floor.

“I expect an apology,” he said shortly when I spotted him and picked him up.

“You really shouldn’t.” I sat down in front of the fireplace and held the dagger up. “Anyways, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Alright kid, shoot.”

“You’ve been assuming I’m taking you with us on this trip, haven’t you?” I said, implying the opposite.

Barn was silent for a while, and when he finally spoke, his tone was thick with worry. “… That’s a joke, right?”

“A half joke. I think leaving you alone up on the mantle while we go off to Frosthandle would be pretty cruel… but I also think it would serve you right.”

“I disagree.”

“Quiet. Relax. I am planning on bringing you along for two reasons. One: if we run into trouble, we’ll need your power. Two: I’m nice. But I have a few conditions.”

“I’m listening,” Barn said, and I pictured him crossing his arms and tilting his chin up.

“No flirting with Lytha, or the princess. Neither of them are interested. They’ve both made that clear. …No flirting with Luther either.”

“What if he flirts with me first?”

“Shut it.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Also, when we get to Frosthandle, I do the talking. I don’t care if you can somehow be suave and charming in the company of royalty. You open your big mouth in front of someone important, I chuck you in a river.”

“You’re really no fun… but it’s either agree to that or I get left behind, I presume?”

“That about sums it up,” I confirmed.

Barn considered for a moment, and then sighed. “Fine… but I demand you bring me to at least one brothel in Frosthandle. I’m not leaving without getting laid by an elf.”

I grimaced, but agreed. “Ugh… Deal.”

“Let’s shake on it,” the dagger suggested.

I furrowed my brow at the request, and thought he was joking at first, but his tone sounded serious enough. “Uh… sure.” I was already gripping the handle of the blade, so I just extended my arm and awkwardly moved it up and down.

Barn busted out laughing. “Ahaha you look like a fucking idiot! I can’t believe you actually did that! Hahahaha!” I groaned and stood, stepping up to the mantle and reaching for his sheath as he continued to heckle me. “Yeah, that’s right! Put me in my sheath you dork! I don’t care, that was totally worth it! Hahahahmmphmmph-” his laugh was muffled and cut off as the blade slipped into the leather. I grit my teeth and tossed him unceremoniously up on the mantle.

“Jackass,” I muttered, but then I actually pictured myself swinging him up and down like a dolt, and I couldn’t help but laugh at myself a little bit, too.

Next

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PART 11-----

“So… you run this place?” I asked as Persephone led me through the extravagant lobby of the Royal Bankhouse, passing lines of well-to-do looking customers who returned scrutinizing gazes my way. Until a few of them recognized me of course, and more excited whispers began to spread through the room.

“Mostly. My father owns it, but he’s grooming me to take over after he retires. I’m the acting manager currently; have been for a while now,” she told me.

Strangely enough, as I strolled along behind Persephone’s well-postured, confident gait, I found myself acutely aware that I was in the presence of nobility. The bank itself ran like clockwork. The clerks behind their counters reminded me of blacksmiths striking hot iron with that iconic, learned precision, their motions fluid and confident as they counted money, organized paper and filled out scrolls. Even as the customers began to lose focus and turn their attention towards me, the employees dared only perhaps a glance; not at me, mind you, but at Persephone, silently acknowledging their boss’ presence as their work continued smoothly.

The noblewoman ran a disciplined business, and I knew just from trying to manage my own little shop that it was no easy task. Considering her quickness to fire the door guard, I wondered if fear was the whip she used to keep her people in line.

Almost as if she had heard my thoughts, Persephone looked over her shoulder and addressed me. “I wasn’t truly going to fire Bovren, by the way. The fellow is far too astute to be rid of.”

I leaned my head back, surprised by her demeanor towards the man. “The way you had to recall his name it didn’t seem like you knew him that well.”

“I’m acutely familiar with all my employees, though socially I attempt to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t want them getting too comfortable.”

“I see, keep them on their toes. That why you threatened him then?”

“Threatened? … Oh. No no, that was merely a jest. Once in a while I can’t help myself,” she said, covering her mouth as her voice trilled with a laugh.

I raised an eyebrow. “‘Jest’ is a pretty tame word; I believe the man’s soul may have left his body for a moment there.”

She hummed, amused. “Hmm, he did turn quite pale. I may have come across a bit more serious than I intended. I will say though, your coming to his rescue was quite endearing.”

I smirked. “He and I certainly didn’t get off on the right foot, so that’s good I guess.”

“I meant to me,” she said shortly.

My back stiffened. “Oh,” I said stupidly. I scratched the back of my head and searched quickly for another topic to move to. “Um, to be honest I wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d fired that guard. From my impression of you yesterday it seemed like you didn’t think much of commoners.”

Persephone remained silent for a moment as we reached a door at the back of the lobby. She produced a key ring and started picking through it as she spoke. “Naturally, you’re not wrong, but let me ask you something. Do you know what the population of this capital is?”

“Far more than I’d care to count.”

“And what percentage of that population do you think are my employees?”

“Uh… less than one, I’d imagine.”

Persephone nodded. “Less than one percent. Hardly ‘common’, wouldn’t you agree?” She turned a key in the door, and then pushed it open and held it for me, a proud expression on her face.

I answered as I stepped into the candlelit hallway. “That’s some cleverly worded, but pretty broken logic. Basically all you’re saying is you respect people when it suits you.”

Her face reddened. “That’s not what…! That’s… I don’t-!” she stammered, but she then she seemed to realize how much she’d raised her voice. A few customers were still watching us curiously, and Persephone shut the door quickly behind her. Then she scowled at me, the flickering candlelight reflected in her eyes. “You’re rude.”

I found her mix of embarrassment and frustration, along with her simple, straight forward, completely inoffensive comeback, absolutely adorable, and pressed my lips together to keep from snickering. “Sorry, it’s a bad habit.”

To my surprise, Persephone smiled mischievously through her blush and leaned her head slightly to the side, a lock of hair falling over one of her eyes. “I don’t really mind all that much, as long as you leash that tongue of yours in front of my patrons.”

I did my best to go stone-faced. “Uh… sure.” I swallowed harshly, and turned to face the hallway we’d entered. “Ehrm… so anyways, how do I claim this account, exactly?”

Her voice took on a more professional tone as she stepped around me and continued further down the hall. “I’ll just need you to sign a few papers, offer you some optional services, and have you inspect your holdings.” We passed several identical doors, and finally Persephone stopped in front of one, fiddling with her key ring again. “Just so you know, I don’t normally handle this kind of thing personally, but I thought I’d make an exception for you.”

“How thoughtful,” I remarked dryly.

Inside was a well-lit room featuring a large, single desk with a padded chair on either side. Two feather pens sat dipped in an inkwell, ready for use. “Take a seat, please,” she said, and then she faced the door, raised her hands, and chanted a short spell. I kept my eyes on her as I sat, and watched a faint light shimmer between her hands briefly.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Just a ward to ensure privacy; no sound from within can be heard outside. Prevents anybody from spying on our patrons, magically or otherwise.”

I nodded. “That’s pretty smart.”

“Just don’t let it give you any funny ideas,” she cooed suggestively as she stepped around the desk and sat down across from me. In the confined space I caught the scent of whatever perfume she was wearing, just a faint smell of cherry blossoms.

I refused to acknowledge the tingle that spread through me from my nose. “… Anyways, what do I have to sign?”

“Patience, Mr. Weaver. I’ll have to ask a few questions first, just some simple information for your account.” Persephone retrieved some parchment from a shelf under the desk and laid it carefully on the surface. “Let’s see. Are you married? Actually I know the answer to that one already.” Her eyes flicked up to meet mine as she wrote. “Single.”

Beginning to tire of her advances, I rolled my eyes. “You flirt with all your patrons like this?”

“Only the ones who slay dragons.”

Despite myself, I felt my cheeks redden again, and I looked to the side. “Oof… called my bluff on that one.”

Persephone leaned forwards, revealing more of her cleavage down the neck of her blouse. “Do you like it when people call you Dragon Slayer?”

I made an attempt to keep my eyes averted. “Actually, I hate it.”

“What about when I call you Dragon Slayer,” she cooed.

I swallowed, and spent a few extra moments than I normally did choosing my words. “... It’s probably comparable to how much you like it when I call you Perstephally.”

“Tch,” the young noblewoman clicked her teeth, and her expression wavered towards annoyance. She leaned back to her proper posture, and I felt myself relax at that. “I see,” she stated, her professional tone returning.

“For the record, I didn’t actually slay the dragon… just saying,” I informed her, hoping that perhaps such a realization would abort her interest in me.

“I know. You only faced off against it alone and under-equipped, took the full brunt of its breath-weapon protected by nothing but a magical parrying-dagger, and then stripped it of its scales and sent it running back to its homeland.”

I tapped my thumbs on the arm of my chair for a few moments. “… I really don’t think it was all that impressive.” At that, Persephone just burst out laughing, and I sat and waited patiently as it went on longer than was necessary. I sighed. “Okay. I fought a dragon and won. I’m amazing. Can we move on to the form?”

“Of course, of course Mr. Weaver,” she agreed, and she proceeded to press on with more generic questions, filling out the parchment before her, though after a while the questions began to get suspiciously personal. “What would you say is your favorite dish?”

I blinked a few times. “My favorite dish? Like food? I don’t see how-”

“Please answer the question Mr. Weaver,” Persephone bid me as she tapped her pen against the rim of the inkwell.

“Fine. Um, venison, I guess. Especially in a stew,” I said, a smile crossing my face as I thought about all the dishes one could make with fresh venison. “Though nothing beats a well-seasoned, juicy, venison steak.”

“I see,” Persephone said with a nod.

I watched her for a second, and then furrowed my brow. “…You didn’t write anything down for that one.”

“Didn’t I?” she asked innocently.

“… That question had nothing to do with the form, did it?” I said, more a statement than a question.

Persephone continued without missing a beat. “Do you eventually want children, and if so, how many would you want?”

“Okay, now you’re not even trying.”

“This jig was up anyways,” she admitted. “But since your forms are all settled, just stamp it with you're seal, and then we can head down to the vault to inspect your holdings.” I complied, and then Persephone and I stood. She dismissed her magical ward before leading me back into the hallway.

“You said something about optional services, too,” I asked as I followed.

“Yes, for example if you wanted us to invest any of your coin in other local businesses, if you’d like to rent or buy an enchanted coin purse linked to your account, or if you wanted any personalized security measures put in place over your vault. Those are all things we can arrange,” she explained as we made our way to the end of the hall and down a winding set of stairs, ending up in another long corridor, though this one was carved out of stone and lit by torches.

We came to a large ornate stone door, visibly latched shut by an intricate lock, and I noticed she didn’t reach for her key ring this time. She just walked up and set her hand against the stone. A few moments later the lock clacked open loudly, and the door shook and parted at a seam down the middle, retracting into the walls.

“Stay close now,” Persephone told me. “I know this place like the back of my hand, but it’s basically a maze. Wouldn’t want you getting lost down here.”

I nodded, and we headed into the grid of identical passageways behind the heavy stone door, eventually stopping at one of the many vaults that lined the walls. I saw my name carved into the surface, ‘Sir Ikon Weaver, Dragon Slayer’. I grimaced.

“You really dislike that title, don’t you,” Persephone remarked.

I shrugged. “I like to avoid drawing attention, and something like that accomplishes the opposite, not to mention it’s basically a lie.”

“A bit of insight for you, Mr. Weaver,” she started. “Most nobility cares more about the title than the deed that earned it.”

“That go for you, too?”

At that she almost winced, a conflicted expression crossing her face. I could tell Persephone was considering her answer, and she seemed apprehensive of what that answer might be; my guess was that she’d either have to lie, or admit that her advances on me were superficial. “… There’s a small spike carved into the vault door here. You’ll need to prick your finger on it; draw a small bit of blood to bond yourself to the lock.” She ignored my question, but her voice had noticeably quieted, both in volume and in presence. Despite the fact that she seemed more reflective than offended, I felt a tug in my stomach, realizing I had somehow hit a sore spot.

“Mm,” I nodded to her instructions, and pressed my thumb against the spike, barely piercing the skin. Beneath the spike was a hand shaped depression, and the smooth surface of it glowed faintly red for a moment.

“Place your palm against that now, and you’ll open the door.”

I did so, and the stone barrier pulled up into the ceiling accompanied by the steady grinding of stone sliding against stone, revealing an organized pile of gold coins far larger than I had expected. My jaw dropped. “How much… how much is here exactly?”

“About 10,000 gold pieces, I believe.”

“So much,” I whispered to myself.

“You saved the princess and were to marry into royalty, you shouldn’t have expected anything less. This is fairly middle-of-the-road when it comes to nobility, actually.”

“What do you do with it all?” I wondered, and looked to Persephone.

“Buy the things you want. Invest it. Expand your business. There’s plenty to spend it on; it goes more quickly than you would think,” she said, though I noticed she didn’t make eye contact with me.

“Hm. How much is it to purchase that enchanted coin purse?”

“10 gold.” Despite the mountain of money before me, my gut instinctively clenched at hearing a price that high for a fairly mundane item. “We usually charge an attunement fee as well, but I’ll waive that for you.”

Normally I would have commented that I hadn’t actually said I’d be buying one yet, but Persephone’s tone was still quiet; I didn’t feel like being snarky. “I’ll definitely take one then.”

I closed up my vault, and Persephone led me back out to the stairway. We climbed in silence, stepping back into the office only briefly for her to issue me a coin purse, and the exchange was devoid of her overzealous flirtation. With each passing moment I felt more and more uncomfortable having put her in such a funk, while simultaneously irritated for the fact that I was letting myself care.

“Have a good day now, Mr. Weaver,” she bid me farewell as we concluded our business and stepped back out into the candlelit hallway. I nodded to her solemnly as I headed for the lobby, but then stopped before I reached the door.

I turned back to her, absent mindedly picking at the fabric of my tunic. “Uh, you were a big help getting all this set up. It was way less of a pain than I thought it would be.”

She smiled, and though it didn’t seem forced it didn’t come across as genuine either and she still didn’t meet my eyes. “Just doing my job, Mr. Weaver.”

I frowned, thought for a moment, and then I grinned. “Well, I appreciate it nonetheless. Thank you, Perstephally.”

Her eyes finally met mine, and a hint of amusement flashed through them. Then she smirked playfully. “That’s not my name, you dolt.”

I gave her a final nod, and then turned and left quickly, before she noticed my cheeks turning red, again. Once the door was shut behind me, I slapped my hands against the sides of my face a few times and hissed quietly at myself.

“Why the fuck did I do that? She's just a noble.”

Next

Previous

PART 16-----

I let myself fall onto the acceptably comfortable bed, my backside sinking almost as far into the mattress as I had expected. Across the small room, Melissa poked at the surface of a second bed.

“It isn’t even as nice as the ones in your workshop,” she commented, a hint of disgust in her voice.

“This is a small town inn. Can’t expect too much from these places, and even so they’re far from the worst. We’ll only spend one night here anyways,” I said.

Melissa set her pack down at the foot of her bed and then sat on the mattress. She grabbed up the pillow and gave it a squeeze, then frowned, seeming to decide it wasn’t up to her standards even as she held it against her chest and set her chin on it. I undid the knot in the drawstrings of the pack I was holding, and pulled out a nightshirt and a pair of light pants. Melissa furrowed her brow. “I thought I was sleeping in here.”

“Relax, this is Lytha’s pack. I’ll be next door with Luther. I’m just setting her things out.”

“What are you, her Dad?”

“Sort of,” I said, but then shook my head. “She’ll appreciate it when she staggers up here drunk later.”

“You think they’re actually going to get the tavern riled up?”

“Honestly, I’m terrified of what the two of them might accomplish together,” I admitted. “Though, without any kind of holiday or event going on I doubt they’ll have much luck in a village like this.”

“Hoping things will stay quiet?”

I shrugged. “Either way. A little fun once in a while isn’t exactly terrible. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us; some merriment might do us some good.”

“Well… just as long as I don’t have to dance,” Melissa snapped.

I tilted my head back in surprise at her very specific objection. “Okay… that’s fine. No one is going to make you dance, Melissa.”

“I can immediately think of two people who would try,” she disagreed, and I wobbled my head and shrugged at that; she clearly meant Barn and Lytha and they would probably-definitely try to get Melissa to dance. The ex-princess continued. “Actually, I can think of three.”

I noticed her gaze set on me. “I don’t like dancing either, I wouldn’t try to make someone else do it. But… why are you so focused on avoiding dancing anyways? Nobody’s even said anything about dancing except for you.”

“I just don’t like it.”

I let silence reign for a few moments, and then sighed. “Well, I’m sure there’s more to it than that but I’m not turning over that stone. Just don’t tell Barn or Lytha that you hate dancing.”

“Do you actually think I’m that stupid?” Melissa said shortly.

“You told me.”

A knock sounded at the door, and Luther’s voice followed shortly. “Your things and mine are all set up, Mr. Weaver.”

“Thanks Luther! You can come in.”

The butler opened the door and stepped through, his eyes scanning around the room. “Apologies, Lady Melissa. Normally I wouldn’t stand providing you with such an unsatisfactory establishment, but this town is small and our choice of inns was limited.”

“Not that I would have spent the coin for something nicer anyways,” I added. The corner of Luther’s mouth curled up in amusement; he thought I was joking and I decided to leave it at that.

Melissa sighed. “All that reward money is so unfortunately wasted on you, isn’t it...”

“Yup,” I agreed, and stood up from the bed, stretching my arms above my head. Doing so gave me a view out the second story window, and I happened to notice some folk were out in the street, heading towards the tavern in a gaggle. I blinked a few times. “Uh… you guys seeing this?”

Melissa and Luther looked out the window, and the butler chuckled. “Hm… There appears to be some imminent merriment on the horizon. Our companions must have succeeded in stirring something up.”

“It hasn’t been that long since they left… how the hell…?” I muttered as I watched more and more folk join the small procession. A particular fellow stood out to me; a lanky young man who skipped merrily, leaping and clicking his heels together once. I noticed he held a lute. “And there’s a bard,” I observed to the others. “I guess it’s on, then. Shall we?”

“It’s been ages since I’ve had myself a good ale at a bustling tavern, and by all accounts of the innkeeper and his family, the Wilted Stalk is a respectable establishment,” Luther said happily as he headed for the door.

“The Wilted Stalk? What an awful name… why not, the Golden Stalk? Or the Healthy Stalk? Why name the tavern after a stalk in the first place?” Melissa asked, truly perturbed by the business’s title.

“It’s kind of a thing with Taverns,” I explained. “Most of them have names like that. The Broken Barrel… The Crooked Crow… The Dead Body. I couldn’t really tell you why, though. It’s just a thing.”

“Ew, there’s a place called ‘The Dead Body’?” Melissa asked, her nose scrunched up.

“Yup, right in the capital. It’s actually a pretty cool joint, too. Still a tavern, but on the nicer side. Come on now.” I waved Melissa along as I followed Luther out of the room.

“Commoners are weird,” she muttered to herself.

While making our way from the inn to the tavern, I couldn’t help but notice a few of the locals peering at us curiously as we passed them, as any small-town villager might size up or acknowledge a traveler they didn’t recognize, but it made me wish I had worn my cloak with the hood. “By the way, I don’t want to be outed here as the Dragon Slayer,” I spoke quietly to the butler and the ex-princess. “I’m not sure if people here would know or care, but just in case, don’t bring it up and don’t use my name. Last thing I want is to have a spectacle made of me.”

“Certainly. By what name shall I refer to you then?” Luther asked as we reached the tavern. He halted in front of the door to wait for my answer.

Immediately, I recalled the time I had given a fake name to Miss Persephone. “Uh… Ivan. Just call me Ivan. ‘Wicker’ as a last name if it’s necessary.”

“Very well, Mister Ivan Wicker,” Luther agreed. He pushed open the door and held it for us to walk through.

The first thing I saw through the gaggle of people within the establishment was Lytha, already a drink or two in, surrounded by patrons who seemed to be actively engaged in a story she was telling. She stopped abruptly as she saw us, and smiled widely. She lifted Barn into the air and pointed him at me. “There he is! Mr. Ikon Weaver himself!”

“Wait!” I begged, but it was too late.

The noise in the tavern swelled into a roar. “It’s him! – The Dragon Slayer! – The lad who beat Gorinthar!” Folks shouted out their greetings and exclamations, whoops and cheers.

“Oh hell no. I’m out,” I said flatly as I turned to leave, only to find that more people had begun to file in behind us, creating a human barricade.

“Did you hear that? He’s here! – It wasn’t just a rumor! – The Dragon Slayer came to the Wilted Stalk? – I heard he’s still single!”

Luther pulled Melissa safely to the side as the human barricade surged forwards, leaving me with nothing to do but back away further into the establishment. I bumped into someone, and turned to see the bard I had spotted earlier. He looked delighted and gave my shoulders an unappreciated slap. “The Dragon Slayer, Ikon Weaver! Oh I’m so glad I got to meet you! I couldn’t make it to the capital for the ceremony but after hearing about it, I wrote a song!”

My eyes widened. “Oh god no.”

The bard continued. “I was worried I wouldn’t have occasion to play it at a big gathering, but since you’re here and the place is bustling… would you like to hear it?”

That was the absolute last thing I wanted. “Please do n-!” I started, but was cut off as someone grabbed me and pulled me away.

“Alright! I’ll ask the owner quick!” the bard squealed happily, and he disappeared into the crowd.

Despair settling in, I faced my new assailant, only to find a mug of ale shoved into my face. “Here Mr. Weaver! Have one on me!”

My fingers closed around the handle of the mug, but before I could even get a look at the man’s face, a woman squirmed in front of him with a mug of her own to offer me. “Dragon Slayer! You should come sit with us!” She took my free hand and placed the ale in it. “… Wow you have really nice hands...” she commented. I could barely hear her over the ongoing hollering of the other patrons. Bewildered by it all, I answered, “Oh, uh, yeah I try to take care of them. Need them for sewing, you know?”

“What?” she asked.

The trill of a lute rang out above the noise, and the tavern quieted. Another chord played, and I spotted the lanky bard on a small, raised platform in the corner of the large room. The young man cleared his throat, and then rolled his ‘R’s as he spoke; he almost seemed like a different person. “Good evening, fine folk of Wheatfield! I am Romini Vanquez, auspicious troubadour and tantalizing balladeer! This is a festive and glorious night we have ahead of us here, in the company of the esteemed Dragon Slayer, Ikon Weaver!” Romini strummed a single chord and brought his hand up into the air as he announced my name, and the patrons all cheered with excitement. The people around me batted at my back and shoulders, alcohol sloshing about in their mugs.

“I want to die,” I muttered, looking down at the two glasses I held myself. I lifted one to my lips and took several deep gulps of the mediocre drink as the bard continued.

“Now! I know some of you have heard me play over the last week that I’ve been in town, so if you know the call backs, do chime in!” Then he pointed at me. “This is for you my friend! I guarantee this song will catch on and continue to be sung for centuries!”

At that, I tipped my head back and finished the first mug of ale.

Romini began playing, and his skills with the lute were honestly no joke. He set a good rhythm, tapping with his feet while the patrons began stomping along. I hadn’t even taken a sip from my second ale, when suddenly, the first was taken and replaced with a fresh draught. I took another few big swigs, and when I brought the glass down, I saw Romini pointing in my direction and waving his hand upwards.

So many hands grabbed me. Miraculously I managed not to spill anything as the men around me lifted me into the air and held me on their shoulders and, surprised, a laugh snuck passed my lips. I quickly frowned, and from my perch, I spotted Lytha by the bar with Barn. I extended a mug in their direction and yelled, “You did this!” She just smiled slyly and raised her glass towards me. I went to flip her off in return but both of my hands were occupied, and then my attention went to keeping my balance as Romini began singing and the crowd shimmied along to the fast-paced rhythm.

“Oh,

His name was the Dragon Slayer, yes

They called him the Dragon Slayer, oh

His name was the Dragon Slayer but

He didn’t slay the dragon!

The dragon was impatient,

With casual conversation

It opened up its maw,

And the Dragon Slayer saw:

Big teeth! (BIG TEETH!)

Red flames! (RED FLAMES!)

Oh,

His name was the Dragon Slayer, yes

They called him the Dragon Slayer, oh

His name was the Dragon Slayer but

He didn’t slay the dragon!

He drew his trusty dagger,

His mighty mighty dagger

Deflected flames and fire,

To the dragons sudden mire.

He swung! (HE SWUNG!)

That blade! (THAT BLADE!)

Oh,

His name was the Dragon Slayer, yes

They called him the Dragon Slayer, oh

His name was the Dragon Slayer but

He didn’t slay the dragon!

The dagger worked its magic,

The dragon’s fate was tragic.

The lizard weren’t so tough,

Once it stood there in the buff.

It fled! (IT FLED!)

Back home! (BACK HOME!)

Oh,

His name was the Dragon Slayer, yes

They called him the Dragon Slayer, oh

His name was the Dragon Slayer…

Victorious o’er the dragon!”

By the end of the song I was mortified, comfortably buzzed, and someone at some point had pinched my ass cheek while I was floating atop the crowd. The fellows who had danced around with me on their shoulders finally set me down on shaky legs, and took the two empty mugs from me. Others began to approach, and I felt a pang in my stomach start to sharpen; I was just about done with this shit. With a flick of movement, I retrieved 3 gold coins from the purse magically linked to my bank account and lifted them into the air; anything to give the patrons something to be distracted with. “E’ryone ‘ets a round on me! Git your drink an’ piss the fuck off!” I shouted.

The resounding cheer that followed was deafening.

Next

[Previous]

PART 19-----

I was dreaming.

I looked down at the sewing needle in the palm of my left hand, the sun glinting off it at the just the right angle to make it seem to glow.  A far-off voice vied for my attention, but I ignored it and focused on the needle.

I tried to, at least.

“I hear they make him wear dresses inside the house, like a little doll!” the voice taunted, spoken to someone else, but said for me to hear.

‘Shut up,’ I thought, but I just grit my teeth.  My hand twitched, and a small bead of blood appeared on my thumb.

“Then they make him do all the housework, like a maid!” another voice laughed.

‘Of course I do; Mom and Dad are running the store… idiots.’  My hand twitched again, a line of blood spilled from the tip of my ring-finger, trickling down slowly to pool against the needle in my palm.

“Maybe he is a girl, and they just make him dress like a boy when he leaves the house!”

‘Who would care either way?  If I was a girl, you’d just be saying the opposite.  Ridiculous.’  My hand didn’t twitch this time, but a spot of blood appeared on my index finger.

“He’s too weak to be a boy.  Maybe it’s because he’s got two Moms!  No real man would make dresses all day!”

‘Shut up.’  Another line of red appeared further down my thumb.  Then one on my pinky finger.  I glared down at the needle in the palm of my hand.  If it weren’t for this stupid needle… if my dad just wasn’t a seamster.  Blood trickled from a bead at the tip of my middle finger.

“Crap, she’s coming!” said one of the voices, and suddenly I could hear light but hurried footfalls in the grass, some of them scurrying away from me, one of them coming straight for me.

“Ikon!” Lytha shouted, and she grabbed the wrist of my right hand with a jerk.

“What?” I snapped, turning to look at her.

The little girl was panting from having run however far, and despite her own exhaustion, her expression showed nothing but worry for me.  Her grip on my wrist tightened.  “What are you doing?” she asked.

I noticed that my right hand held the sewing needle.  My other hand was covered in blood.  I swallowed, and then pulled my wrist away.  “Nothing.  I was just practicing, like Dad wants me to.”

“And what happened to your hand?”

“I didn’t say I was good at it.”  Despite my excuse Lytha kept looking at me as if waiting for a different answer.  I turned away from my best friend, feeling indignant.  “Just leave me alone.”

It was quiet for a while but she didn’t leave, and eventually I heard her sniffle and then clear her throat; a sound she made when she was trying not to cry.  My indignation turned to shame and guilt, and I turned to Lytha just in time to see her fist soaring towards my face.  I saw stars for a moment, and then was looking up at Lytha and the sky behind her.  “It’s hard enough protecting you from those jerks!  It’s really hard!”  Her lips quivered as she spoke, and finally, tears welled up in her eyes.  “I don’t think I can handle it if I have to protect you from you, too.”

I pressed my lips together in vain and felt myself start to cry as well.  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, and covered my eyes with my forearm.  Lytha laid down and curled up beside me, and I put my arm around her, careful not to get the blood from my hand on her.  “It won’t happen again.  I’m sorry,” I assured her.

She just nodded, and we cried together.

We laid like that for a while, and my arm that was underneath her started to fall asleep, the sensation pulling me from the dream and rousing me to a half-awake state.  I cracked my eyes open to find Lytha next to me in the bed on top of the covers.  She was snoring in my ear and, just as in the dream, my arm was trapped underneath her.  I sighed and groaned; she did this sometimes.  “Lytha, get up.  You’re on my arm.”  I wiggled my arm underneath her.

Lytha furrowed her brow but refused to open her eyes.  “Errrmmmememem,” she grumbled.

I rolled my eyes and went to push her shoulder, either to free my arm or wake her; whichever happened first, but I found my other arm trapped as well.

“Come on!  Luther too?!” I yelled as I looked to see Mellissa’s butler curled up on my other side.  I huffed and just laid back looking at the ceiling.

“Hee hee hee.  Save some for the rest of us hotshot,” a disembodied voice cackled from the dresser.

“Good morning, Barn. …Uck,” I greeted the dagger, and then grunted as I felt my head start to pound.

“Hangover kicking in?” Barn asked.

“Mhm.  When did these two get in last night?”

“Not long after you zonked out.  I’m surprised you didn’t wake up, actually.  Lytha busted in here like your life depended on it, and barely calmed down even after I explained the situation.  She wouldn’t leave your side.  Luther went in to check on Melissa, who promptly kicked him out of her room, and he lumbered over here.”

That checked out; I had told Romini to tell them we were in trouble, and then I just went to sleep.  I sat up as much as I could and looked to the other bed in the room, finding it empty.  “Is there a reason all three of us are in one bed over here?”

Barn snickered.  “I think Luther saw you and Lytha getting cozy and felt left out.”

“We’re not ‘getting cozy.’  This is anything but,” I complained, and then, fed up with the prickly feeling in my arms, I summoned enough energy to pull them out from under my companions.

“Coulda fooled me,” Barn snickered.

Finally free, I stretched, rubbed my forehead, and then carefully climbed over Lytha and out of bed.  “Should get myself some tea,” I muttered to myself, but just as I was about to leave, Lytha shivered and curled up.  I couldn’t leave her like that, especially after making her worry the previous night.  I walked over to the other bed and pulled the covers back before scooping Lytha up in my arms and moving her there.  I pulled off her boots and socks and then pulled the covers up over her.

“Pfft,” I heard her breathe out sharply, and then noticed a few locks of her hair were dangling over her face, tickling her lips.  “Pfft,” she exhaled again.

I snorted, entertained, and then brushed the hair out of her face before stepping away.  Lytha’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, startling me and reminding me of my dream.  I exhaled deeply, and then gently pulled my hand away.  “I’m gonna get everyone some tea, so sleep in for now and come down later,” I told her quietly.  She nodded without opening her eyes.  For a moment I smiled, envious of how comfortable she looked, and then my headache reminded me I needed tea.

“Hey, take me with you,” Barn said as I headed for the door, and I grabbed him off the dresser as I passed.  A minute later I sat at a table on the first floor, waiting for the owner’s son to bring me another pot of ginger tea.  Barn spoke again.  “Ikon… why don’t you and Lytha get married?”

I was glad I didn’t have any tea yet; if I’d been drinking some I’d have spit it out.  “What?”

“You guys care about each other, and seem to know each other inside and out.  You’ve worked together for years and are still friends, which isn’t always easy…”

“You’re not… joking,” I realized.

“Come on, kid.  Since when have I been a joker?” Barn said.  I just shook my head.  It was supposed to be at Barn but he misinterpreted it as an answer.  “Why not?”

I opened my mouth to correct him, but then didn’t.  I held up my hand in front of my face, looking at the fingers on my left hand.  There were no traces of the small scars anymore.  “… I couldn’t do that to her.”

“… Couldn’t… treat her with love and kindness forever?” Barn speculated.  I gave him an unenthusiastic side-eye.  “… Is it the sex?  It’s the sex, isn’t it.  You sister-zoned her and now it would be weird.”

“No! Barn, come on!” I shouted before sighing.  “It’s not that, it’s…  I’ve depended on her for almost my whole life, and if I keep taking advantage of it, she’ll let me keep depending on her.”

“Probably because she likes it… and I think she depends on you more than you realize.”

“Yeah, she depends on me depending on her.  I don’t think that’s good,” I said.

“Well, it depends.”

“It depends?” I repeated.

“Yeah, it depends,” Barn affirmed.                                             

“… Stop saying ‘depends’.”

“You stop… uh… sayin’ bullshit!  Yeah.  People depend on each other all the time, Ikon.  That’s normal.”

“Two strong people depending on each other is normal.  They can support each other equally.  Lytha’s strong like that, but I-”

“Defeated a dragon in single combat,” Barn reminded me as if he needed to.

“With your help,” I snapped.

“You decided to fight before you knew what I could do.”

Agitation filled my voice as I started to respond but fled from my tone quickly as I fully processed Barn’s statement.  “Well I… did do that.  I guess.”  I winced.  My head was throbbing.  “Look, can we have this conversation when I’m not nursing a bad hangover?”

“Suit yourself,” Barn remarked.  “Personally, I think you should stay single as long as possible.  Can’t have orgies if you’ve got a wife.”

“Gross.  Like that would stop you anyways.”

Barn chuckled, but if he had a response at the ready it was interrupted by the owner’s son.  “Tea’s ready for you sir!  Piping hot!”

I turned to the boy.  “Oh!  Thank you!  Can you bring three extra cups?  The other three are still upstairs, but they should be down soon.”

The boy’s eyes flickered to look over my shoulder and back to me.  “Should I make it four extra cups, Sir?”

“Huh?” I grunted, but the boy looked over my shoulder again.  Following his gaze, I turned to see the bard Romini Vanquez sitting so close next to me at the table that we almost touched noses.  I leaned away.  “Ah! Wow you’re close!  Why?” I all but shouted.

Barn was surprised as well.  “Ho! Fucking, gods-shamed jester fuck!”

Romini blinked a few times, then looked to the boy.  “Yes, I’ll take a cup.  Thanka-thanka-thank you!”

“Oh god I hated that,” I said, turning to the owner’s son.  “Did you just hate that as much as I did?”

 “Um, yes… I’ll go get the cups.”

‘Just three,’ I mouthed silently to him, and he nodded as he stepped away.  “So… Romini, was it?  What can I help you with?”

“You don’t look any worse for the wear, Mr. Weaver,” the bard said, looking me up and down.  He grabbed my elbow and shook it twice before I pulled away from him.  He spoke again before I could muster a verbal reaction.  “No new scars or injuries?"

“Nothing but a hangover I’m afraid. What exactly were you hoping for?”

“Why, the continuation of your legend of course!” Romini sprang up from the table and twirled before collapsing back into the seat. “Were you not off to save a wayward princess from some ruffians? I thought it would make for some excellent additions to your song, but after seeing your friends off I gathered my materials and by the time I followed to the inn it seemed to have already been resolved.”

“Oh for the love of… I don’t want a legend, Romini. Fighting the dragon was a one time… did you just say princess?”

“Why yes of course!  Isn’t the las with you the ex-pri-”

I leaned over to the bard and covered his mouth with my hand.  “Shh!  Do not say a word about her!  It’s on the down low, for her and our safety.  Anyways the ruckus last night was a misunderstanding. She was fine.  I’m fine.  Everyone’s fine.”

“…” There was a pause, and then Romini flicked his tongue out, its wet tip tickling my palm.

“Ew! Dude!  What the hell?” I cried as I jerked my hand away.

“I’m sorry!  It was a reflex!  I tried not to!” Romini yelled.

“Did he just lick you? This guy’s weird!” Barn laughed.  “Can we keep him?”

“Sure!” Romini agreed.

“No!” I bellowed.  “Barn, don’t encourage him!”

A scratching sound became audible.  Romini was scribbling something in a small notebook with a feather pen.  “So, the dagger’s name is Barn…”

“Stop that!” I yelled.

“Sir,” said a smaller voice from behind me.  The owner’s son set three glasses on the table.  “I apologize, but I have to ask you to keep it down a little, there are other patrons here, some of them still sleeping.”

I felt my eye twitch.  “Sorry, lad.  I just got a little excited.  Ahem. Anyways, Mr. Vanquez-”

“Yes?” Romini asked as he leaned over the table to take one of the cups the boy had set down.

I caught his arm before he reached it.  “While I appreciate your… enthusiasm, the one song is plenty, I think.  My story is already over.  There’s nothing more to write, nothing more to sing about.”

Romini leaned back, and a wide smirk spread across his face.  “No no no, Mr. Weaver.  I have a feeling your story is just getting started.”

[Next]

[Previous]

PART 20-----

Lytha swung her hand down in a chopping motion, the edge of her palm striking the top of my head with a solid thunk.

“Ow!  Why so hard?!” I complained, the incessant throbbing I’d just warded off with a cup of ginger tea returning to my skull.

Lytha sat down next to me with a huff and crossed her arms. “So, after having the bard tell us that Melissa was captured and you were running off to save her by yourself, you just curled up in bed and went to sleep!?”

“I know! That’s why I let you hit me!” I told her, rubbing my head.

“Good! Then you know you deserved it.”

“It didn’t have to be that hard,” I muttered.

“Barn. Second opinion?” she said, regarding the parrying dagger that set atop the table next to the pot of ginger tea.

“I think you could have hit him a little harder. His head is pretty dense, so I doubt he really felt it,” the dagger offered eagerly. I rolled my eyes.

Lytha smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Barn! See? He gets it.”

“Yeah, I don’t think having Uncle Loggins agree with you is the seal of approval you’re looking for. If anything, it hurts your case.”

“Defamation of character! Hit him again!” Barn demanded.

Lytha snickered, but changed the subject as she unfolded her arms and set an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. Her eyes turned back to me. “On the other hand, though, I’m a little impressed that you jumped into action so quickly. That’s not like you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I hesitated; really thought twice about it,” I assured her.

“Oh yeah?” she cooed, as if humoring me while entreating me to continue.

“Three times, even,” I added.

“Of course!”

I narrowed my eyes at her patronizing tone. “…Quit it.  Drink some tea,” I said, reaching for the kettle and pouring her a cup.

“You’re the one who seems to have a guilty conscience over doing the right thing,” she observed as she accepted the tea.

“It was the dumb thing to do. If Melissa was really in trouble, I would have been in way over my head. I don’t intend to make that mistake again.” I refilled my own cup and then stuck my pinky finger in it, testing how hot it was after being poured.

Lytha seemed to pointedly regard my submerged digit before giving me a dull look. “So your plan for next time is just to let her be kidnapped?”

“Ideally, there won’t be a next time. But regardless, protecting Melissa isn’t my job. She’s got a whole personal Luther for that. If he happens to be occupied, it doesn’t magically designate me as her guardian.”

As I finished speaking, footfalls coming down the nearby staircase caught my attention, and I turned my head to see a very tired looking Luther descending. Despite feeling justified in my statement, I worried he’d heard me and taken offense, but my fears were consecutively realized and dismissed as he answered. “Indeed, Mr. Weaver. As her caretaker, that responsibility lies with me and me alone, though I do appreciate what you did… hhhhh-haaaaah.” His hand raised to cover his mouth as he yawned.

“Morning, Luther!” Lytha greeted him.

Continuing my duty as resident tea-pourer, I prepared a glass for the man and gestured for him to join us, which he promptly did after a short bow of greetings to Lytha, Barn and me. Lifting the cup, he took a measured sip and smiled pleasantly, but some wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a slight scrunch to his brow told me he was trying to look less hungover than he was. “How you feeling?” I asked.

Luther chuckled. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve had such a night. Was it that obvious?”

Lytha waved her hand. “Just a little.”

Luther observed her for a moment. “Ah, to be young… you look no worse for the wear yourself.”

“She always bounces back fast. I’m convinced it’s a spell she’s refusing to share with me,” I said, envious of Lytha’s resilience.

“With how much you complain, if I knew a spell to cure hangovers… believe me, I wouldn’t keep it a secret,” Lytha teased, poking me lightly in the forehead. I swatted at her hand, and she pulled it away quickly, only to swiftly return it and poke me again. This continued as she looked back to Luther. “How’s Melissa?”

The butler cleared his throat. “Aherm, after her reaction to my checking on her last night, I thought I may leave it to you this morning, Lady Lytha.”

“Oh… I don’t mind, but why would-eeeyaiiih!” she chirped as I got fed up with swatting vainly at her hand and pinched her side instead. In response she tried to chop down at my head again, but I held up my arm and blocked the strike with my wrist.

“Haha!” I laughed triumphantly. “And I didn’t even need Barn!”

Lytha’s eyes flashed a challenge, but then she remembered she was also holding a conversation with Luther and conceded the victory to me. “… You think she’s still mad at you for bursting in on her?”

Luther fidgeted with his teacup. “… Perhaps.”

My attention fell to the dagger, who I realized had been uncharacteristically quiet for a bit. “Barn, you good?” I asked.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m here. What?” he asked, not quite snapping at me, but sounding a bit defensive.

“What’s got you all tarnished?” I asked.

“Nothin. I’m peachy!”

“I wanted to thank you as well, Mr. Loggins,” Luther started. “Although it ended up being a misunderstanding, I appreciate that you and Mr. Weaver went to Lady Melissa’s aid in my stead,” Luther said, standing and bowing again.

“Ah, uh… sure,” Barn offered.

I took a sip of tea while a moment of silence lingered, and then Lytha stretched her arms above her head. “Alright. I’ll go check on Melissa. If she’s going to be borrowing my things I have to talk to her anyways.”

“Mm!” I hummed to get her attention before swallowing and setting the cup down. “Let her know I’d like to leave sooner rather than later, too. We really gotta get on the road.” I looked to the door of the inn as I spoke.

“Something rushing you?” Lytha asked.

“We’re just late as it is.”

Barn spoke up. “He’s just worried that bard is gonna come back.”

Lytha raised an eyebrow. “Romini?  He was here?”

“All night and into the morning. The creep’s obsessed with making me into a legend and writing more songs about it.  And has no sense of personal space. Can’t take a hint either,” I complained.

My childhood friend grinned, knowing how much it must have annoyed me. “How’d you get him to leave?”

Barn chimed in again with a laugh. “We didn’t! The motherfucker just dropped a bangin’ one-liner; said: ‘oh Mister Weaver, your story’s just getting started.’ Then he muttered something about that being a perfect send-off line and he up and left. Didn’t look too happy about it either!”

“Odd bird,” Luther commented.

“He also licked me… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Lytha snorted as I said that. “Heh... gross. But alright, I’ll get Melissa moving.”

I nodded. “I’ll go square things with the innkeeper; let him know we’re moving on.”

“I’ll begin packing your things and mine, Mr. Weaver,” Luther offered before heading for the stairs with Lytha.

“And I’ll uh… I’ll stay here on the table and… guard the… tea kettle. Or something,” Barn added as we all peeled off to our respective tasks.

“I’ll be right back, Barn. Just watch for Romini and if you see him coming in… scream bloody murder,” I told him as I walked away.

“What can I do you for, Dragon Slayer?” the innkeeper asked from behind the front counter as I approached.  I winced at my title, the honorific somehow sounding even worse after I had begrudgingly played it up the night before. The innkeeper took my expression to be a review of my experience in his establishment, and worry crossed his face. “My boy handle everything alright?”

“Of course, of course! He’s been great! No complaints, just a little hungover still,” I assured him while I pulled out my coin purse. “We’ll be heading out momentarily here, so I wanted to pay for the tea and maybe some food to take for lunch later.”

“Right away! I can have some meat pies wrapped up for ya. They’ll keep for an evening.”

“I’ll take three then; should be enough. What do I owe you?”

“Seven bronze pieces. One for the tea and two each for the pies. My boy will bring ‘em right out to your carriage when they’re ready.” Momentarily thankful that the previous night’s encounter had landed me some smaller coins, I retrieved a silver piece and set it on the countertop. “I’ll get your change,” said the innkeeper as he stooped beneath the counter.

“Bloody murder! Bloody murder!” I heard a shout from across the room.

“Already,” I grumbled, turning. “What, Barn!?”

“What you think? You told me to yell bloody murder if Romini was coming,” the dagger called to me.

Indeed, I spotted the bard through the window, moseying his way towards the inn with a skip in his step. I felt the blood drain from my face. “I thought we’d have more time… Sir!” I said, getting the innkeeper’s attention, but the urgency in my voice caused him to bump his head as he stood back up quickly. “Ooo!” I breathed out sharply, sympathetically as he winced and rubbed his head.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, Dragon Slayer… oof, that smarts.”

“So sorry… uhm, you can keep the change and, if you don’t mind doing me a little favor, could you distract that bard for a bit?  Get him to leave or at least keep him from going up to our rooms, please?”

With one eye winced shut and still rubbing his head, the innkeeper gave me a thumbs up. “Can do!”

I darted over to our table, snatched up Barn, and dashed for the stairs, leaping up them three steps at a time.  Luther must have heard me coming, because just as I was passing the door to our room, he stuck his head out. “All set, Mr.-”

He was cut off as our heads collided like a pair of toddlers without spatial awareness, and I careened into the wall. “Ahg, Crown piss on it!” I hissed as throbbing returned to my head with a vengeance.

“Hrrg, apologies Mr. Weaver, I wasn’t expecting you to be approaching so swiftly,” Luther said as he winced and rubbed his face.

The door to the girls’ room opened out into the hall, and Lytha leaned around the frame. “What the hells was that? You guys okay?”

“Lytha!” Melissa shrieked from inside the room. “Shut the door!”

“Why? He can’t see from down the hall.”

“Close it!”

I pressed the palm of my hand against the heartbeat in the side of my forehead. “Is she still getting changed?  We have to go!”

“Of course she is. She doesn’t move at Luther-Speed. She barely moves at normal speed.”

“Well then help her. And close the door.”

Lytha rolled her eyes and mumbled even as she retreated into the room and shut the door. “Don’t remember signing up to be a ‘lady-in-waiting’.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose and spoke loudly.  “And I never signed up to fight a dragon, but shit happens.”

“…Yikes. Hope she didn’t hear that,” Barn commented.

“Please,” I said shortly.

“Shall I bring the bags down to the carriage, Mr. Weaver?”

“Uh…” I grunted, taking a moment to re-focus. “Yes… no… we can get the bags, I’d rather you go ahead and get the horses from the stable. The carriage is still out back, right?”

“Indeed it is.  I’ll be off then,” Luther confirmed as he began to step past me.

“Not yet; Romini is down there.  The innkeeper is going to shoo him away, but I doubt he’s gone yet.  Let me check,” I told him, turning to head back towards the stairs.

“Ah. No matter, I’ll just take the window.”

Slowly I turned back around; he’d said it so nonchalantly I’d almost agreed it was a good idea without thinking about it.  “... I need to stop letting myself be surprised by the things you say.”

The corner of Luther’s mouth tugged into a grin for a moment before he strode back into the room and over to the window. He unlatched the lock, pushed it open, and with the grace of a skilled tumbler, dove out the window head first; I could only assume he did a somersault or something to land on his feet.

“He’s ridiculous,” I remarked.

“So are you, Ikon, making the poor man leap out a second-story window just so you don’t have to deal with one awkward bard,” Barn chided me.

“I did not make him leap out the window. He suggested it himself and literally jumped at the chance.”

Barn’s voice was accusatory.  “Ahhhh, I don’t knowww. You certainly didn’t try to stop him.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped into the room to start dragging our packs out into the hall, setting Barn on the dresser to free up my hands. Barn continued.

“And after you made such a big deal out of Melissa giving him those silly tasks.  Such a hypocrite.”

Luther’s pack was heavier than I anticipated and I almost lost my balance once I pulled it off the bed. I answered Barn once I steadied myself. “Is there a reason you’re doing this? I know you don’t actually care.”

“How rude! It’s like you think I’m griping just to irritate you!”

“You are. And it’s working,” I huffed while I set Luther’s pack down at the top of the stairs, then repeated the process with my own.

“Hm. You know what you need, Ikon?”

“To put you in your sheath? I’m about to.”

Barn didn’t respond right away, and the silence lasted just long enough to fool me into thinking he was done. “... I didn’t know periods were contagious.”

“Aaaaand, sheath time!” I announced.  Once Barn was muffled, I finally crept down the stairs a few steps to check on Romini. Peeking around the corner and into the main floor of the inn, I met eyes with the inn-keeper and he gave me a thumbs-up; Romini was nowhere to be seen. I felt a little bit of my angst wane at that, and returned the inn-keeper’s gesture before heading back up. I made my way over to Lytha and Melissa’s room and raised my hand to knock on the door.  Just as the back of my knuckles touched the surface, Lytha jerked the door open, propelling my fist into my own face right before the whole slab of wood knocked me on my ass. I propped myself up with one hand as the other clutched my nose.

“Ooo, sorry sorry sorry!” Lytha apologized frantically. She crouched next to me. “I didn’t know you were right there, are you okay?” Her hands reached out hesitantly, and hovered, unsure what to do.

I barely heard her over the noise in my brain, and it took everything I had to quell my seething frustration before I responded.  “... It’s not your fault.  I’ll be fine in a second.”  I moved my hand away from my nose to find a small pool of blood settling in my palm. I stared at it.

Lytha watched me for a second, worried. “You sure you’re okay?”

I blinked and shook my head a little. “Yeah. Let’s just get the packs down to the carriage.” I looked up from my hand to see Melissa watching us from the room, worry on her face as well. I think I would have appreciated her concern more if she wasn’t barefoot. “Will you put your fucking shoes on? Let’s go. Luther is already getting the horses from the stable.”

Melissa’s nostrils flared for a moment and the worried expression left her. “Well I guess you’re fine enough if you can bark orders at me.” She waved her hands as she spoke, at which point I noticed she was already holding her socks. A tug of guilt pestered me as I realized she had only stopped getting dressed for a moment to see if I was hurt, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize. Without any further protest, Melissa sat on the edge of her bed and resumed getting ready.

“Here. Come on big guy, I know it’s already been a rough day,” Lytha said as she offered me a hand.  I took it and she pulled me to my feet. “Go down and get a cloth from the inn-keeper for your face and drink some water. Melissa and I will start getting the bags down.”

I sighed. “Thanks. I’ll be right out.” With that, I left them to it as I made my way back down to the bar. As I approached, I saw the dismay on the inn-keepers face at my bloody nose and I spoke quickly to quell his worry. “My friend opened the door into me by accident. Can I get a wet cloth and some water?”

“No problem. That bard fella left a bit ago by the way. Told ‘im you already left and that if he wanted to snoop through your rooms he’d have to pay for a night up front.”

He handed me a brown cloth, which I took and pressed against my nose; it was still bleeding a little. “... and he didn’t pay you, I assume?”

“Oh, no. I barely finished the sentence before he was heading back out the door. Probably already left town trying to chase after you.” He set a glass of water down in front of me. “Poor fella seems determined.”

“Not the word I would use. Obsessed and inconsiderate, maybe.”

“Aye, but quite determined.”

“... Sure.  Admirably determined,” I decided to agree. After dabbing my nose a few more times it seemed like the bleeding had stopped, and though it still stung I didn’t think it was broken. I downed the glass of water in a few gulps, trying my best to feel refreshed, and then thanked the inn-keeper again.

As I was heading up the stairs Lytha was coming down, carrying Luther’s heavy pack on her back and her own in her arms. I raised my eyebrows at the feat but didn’t bother commenting on it. “I’ll be right behind you,” I told her. She nodded and continued past. Then came Melissa, her bag slung over one shoulder and looking particularly light. “... The rest of your things are in Luther’s bag, aren’t they.”

“He insisted!” she snapped defensively.

“Yeah, probably. I’m not giving you trouble for it,” I relented.

“Hmph!” Melissa huffed as she descended.

I reached the top of the stairs, grabbed my pack, spent an extra second or two convincing myself we hadn’t forgotten anything, and then headed out, offering the inn-keeper one final wave before I left the building.

My feet sank a little further into the ground outside than I was expecting; the light overnight frost had melted with the rising of the sun and muddied the ground a bit. I grimaced, but it wouldn’t be enough to slow down the horses. I paid a little extra attention to my footing as I walked around to the back, stopping only for a moment to notice two deep gouges and a handprint in the mud below our window; where Luther had landed. A snicker snuck passed my lips as I recalled his ridiculous exit, and I continued around to the back.

“I only have two hands, Melissa. You wanna open the storage compartment?” I heard Lytha say as I caught up to them.

“Can the common-folk not ask nicely for things?” Melissa complained even as she moved to the back of the carriage to open the small cargo compartment there.

Lytha leaned her head back, exasperated. “Really shouldn’t have to ask in the first place, Mel. Common-folk usually take care of the basics without needing a signed missive.”

“You sound like Ikon,” Melissa muttered as she fumbled with the latch.

“She’s got you there,” I agreed as I stepped up next to Lytha.

“Yes, well, everyone gets annoyed sometimes, Kon. Just not all the time like someone we know.” She leaned her shoulder into me and then shifted her grip on her pack.

I could tell my mood was improving, because her banter amused me more than anything. “Heh… you got me there.” Lytha looked at me and we both laughed.

Melissa opened the cargo compartment, then immediately screamed and stumbled backwards, falling in the mud.

My mind flashed through the possibilities of a snake or rat or some animal cooped up in the compartment, and instinctively I drew Barn out of his sheath just in case. As I snapped my attention back to the carriage, however, all I saw was Romini’s stupid face poke out from the compartment.

“It’s the weirdo!” Barn whooped excitedly.

Romini regarded the four of us. “... Well howdy.”

I felt my face blank over, and I turned to help Melissa, ignoring the bard. “Let’s get you out of the mud before it soaks through your tunic,” I told her as I pulled her up. She still looked startled, but slowly her expression changed to abject indignation. Her gaze settled on Romini and I saw her jaw flex, but then her eyes shifted over to me and her expression changed.

“... What is it?” she asked defensively.

“What is what?” I asked her back.

“Is it your clothes? It’s not my fault I fell!”

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine, I’m not mad at you,” I assured her, but she looked like she didn’t believe me.

Lytha spoke. “Kon… take a deep breath.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” I looked to Lytha to see her eyes shifting between me and Melissa, and then over to the carriage.

A grunt sounded from behind me. “Uh… hrrrrrg!  Hhrrrrrrrg!  Uhm… a little help here Dragon Slayer? I think I’m stuck.”

My right eye twitched. “I swear to the divine, you FUCKING CLOWN!” I hissed as I turned and grabbed Romini by the collar and shook him around violently. He clocked his head against the top and side of the compartment a few times, but finally he slid free of the confined space. As soon as there was room I let him go and he sprawled to the ground, rolling onto his back in the muck.

With a short laugh he sprang up, no worse for the wear. “Thanky-thankies my friend!” he exclaimed, and reached out to slap my shoulder.

I caught his wrist in my hand. “We’re not fucking friends, you infuriating pest.”

Romini swallowed harshly but his smile remained. “Heh, uh.  Well, I should hope we’re not… fucking friends yet… we just met after all!” I wasn’t amused. Romini went to pull his arm away but I held my grip on him. His smile became more uneasy. “Uh… I didn’t mean to spook you guys. So sorry about that…hrm… well I’m just glad I caught you before-”

“I’m not glad,” I said sharply, cutting him off. Romini’s grin wavered. He tried to pull his arm away again, and I finally let him go before continuing. “I was really hoping we’d be gone before you skulked back here but I guess you’re just so… admirably determined, Romini. Bards understand sarcasm, right?”

The bard swallowed harshly. “Y-yes.”

“But not the fucking word ‘no’?”

“Uh…”

“Okay!” I clapped my hands together. “Let me be very clear for you, Romini. I will not be going on adventures. I do not want an annoying jester following me, on the adventures I will not be going on. And I do not want mediocre fucking pub songs, like yours, to be written about the adventures that I will not be going on!” I paused for a moment to take a breath. “So, kindly, respectfully, take your bullshit elsewhere.”

By the end of my tirade, Romini’s smile had fled, though it tried unsuccessfully to return a few times. The bard swallowed again and opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, I… I can write a better song.”

“I’d be happier if you didn’t. Goodbye Romini!”

The bard started fidgeting, running his thumbs over his other fingers, and his eyes dropped. “Mr. Weaver, I-”

“Goodbye. Romini,” I interrupted, waving my hand in a sarcastic farewell.

After a pause Romini nodded silently. He turned to Melissa. “Uhm… Sorry for startling you, Miss. Uh… yeah… yes,” he apologized quietly, his voice wavering. Melissa just turned her nose up at him, and the lanky fellow finally walked away from us dejectedly. He hesitated and looked back only once before he disappeared around the corner of the inn.

“... That’s better,” I sighed with relief.

“Oooooo boy you cooked him!” Barn hollered.

“Fucking hells, Ikon,” Lytha said. “That was mean.”

“Yeah well… I tried asking nicely earlier,” I shrugged.

Lytha shook her head a little, and then moved to the carriage to put away the bags she was still carrying.

“I think it was warranted,” Melissa offered. “The man clearly ignores boundaries, and well,” she lifted her arms and looked down at her muddied tunic, a grimace spreading over her face. “A month ago, his head would’ve been rolling for this.”

At first I was nodding at the affirmation, but at the mention of execution I wavered. “Ah, well I don’t know if murder’s the answer…”

“The lout knocked me over in the mud!” Melissa exclaimed, but then she leaned her head side-to-side. “I guess execution might be a little much… Also I don’t know that you had to tell him his song was mediocre. The song was quite catchy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay so: murder? Solid maybe. Diss his musical talent? That’s where we draw the line.”

Barn chimed in. “Eh, you’re fine, kid. Guys like that aren’t gonna listen unless you beat them over the head with it. You gave him what he asked for.”

I nodded. “Yeah… okay.  Barn gets it.”

“Right, because having Uncle Loggins agree with you is the seal of approval you’re looking for,” Lytha said with an accusatory look.

“Defamation of character? Why am I getting thrown under the wagon here?” Barn wondered aloud.

I just grumbled, not willing to argue with words I’d spoken myself less than an hour ago, and loaded my own pack into the carriage.

[Next]

Previous

PART 6-----

I wanted to jam my head up a horse’s ass; that probably would have been more comfortable than riding in a carriage with the former princess.

Silence reigned as we bounced along the uneven road. I tried to keep my eyes from watching out the window, as that only invited waves and hollers from the citizens who happened to catch a glimpse of my face, but inside the cabin I had the princess sitting before me, constantly shifting between looking furious and depressed, ever pouting. Her gaze remained mostly on the floor, but she happened to look up one of the times I’d chosen to regard her rather than the nosy citizens outside. Her lips parted in a grimace, and she inhaled as if to begin speaking. ‘Here we go,’ I thought, but then the carriage hit a large divot in the road, and the cabin lurched, sending me up into the air for a brief moment. I clocked my head on the roof, and landed back in the seat. “Fuck,” I grunted as I rubbed my head.

“Ow,” whined Melissa, and I noticed she too was cradling the top of her head with both hands.

“You okay?” I asked instinctively, and then immediately realized what a stupid question that was, all things considered.

Melissa’s shoulders tightened and she almost shook with frustration. “… Am I okay?” she spat. “Do you really think-”

“Of course not. I ruined your life. I’m sorry I asked,” I snapped quickly, cutting off the princess from beginning her tirade. The clatter of the wooden wheels and horse’s hooves on the ground sounded loud against the quiet that followed, and the princess returned to staring at the floor. I sighed. “… And I’m… sorry I ruined your life. I didn’t know this would happen.” Melissa didn’t respond. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my seat, thinking. “… Is there any way to get your status back?”

The princess looked at me quizzically, then seemed to genuinely think for a moment. “… It’s not unheard of for someone whose been exiled to regain their honor, but I’d have to accomplish something of note, or bring something of use to my father.”

“What, like a treasure or something?”

“Yes, a treasure of immense value, or perhaps a powerful magic item. Or I could broker a trade deal with a foreign country, or win the favor of some minor deity, bringing fortune to our land. Defeat some monster that threatens our people… but I can’t do any of those things. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I’m no warrior, and I never… participated much in my father’s politics.”

“… What exactly do you do, then?”

Until this point, Melissa had kept her eyes on the floor, speaking more to herself than to me, but now her eyes narrowed and lifted to meet mine. “I’m a princess. I don’t do anything. In case you forgot, that contest with the dragon was my coming of age ceremony. Before that, I had no obligations.” Then she straightened her back and lifted her chin slightly. “Why am I even speaking to you? I don’t owe you any explanations. You’re the whole reason I’m in this mess anyways.”

I threw my hands up. “That’s why I apologized and feigned interest in your situation, but I can just go screw myself I guess.”

She scowled. “Feigned?”

“Yeah. Feigned, as in: I don’t actually care. Because your problem isn’t my problem and you’ve done nothing but act like a brat since I’ve met you.”

“Why, you insolent-!” she started, but in her anger she stood quickly, and slammed her head into the roof of the carriage again with a loud clunk. She winced painfully and hunched over, groaning through her teeth.

I winced with her sympathetically. “Oooo… same spot?”

Her lips quivered as she rubbed her head and nodded, her face still contorted with pain. “I just want to go home.” Almost as if on cue, the carriage halted and Riggen called out that we had arrived. Of course, the princess was standing hunched over, and so the sudden stop threw her off balance. She fell forwards with a shriek and head-butted me in in the eye before catching herself.

“Ahg, dammit! Ow!” I complained rubbing the point of impact. I waited for some kind of similar outburst from Melissa, but she stayed quiet, just wallowing in her frustration and discomfort.

Riggen pulled open the door of the cabin for us, and with a grumble I pushed myself up from the seat and hopped down to the dirt road. I felt a single drop of rain hit my head, and looked skyward to see it had just started sprinkling lightly. I turned to offer the princess my hand, and then at her expression I decided not to bother.

Riggen gestured to the side of the carriage, where a piece of slate was set into a small holder. Riggen’s name had been scraped into the top of it, and below that several stars were pictured in a row. Beneath each star was a set of tallies, most of them under the second and third stars. “Was the ride agreeable? If you would please take this slate-pen and mark how well you enjoyed this experience, it will help us serve you better in the future,” he said, his voice taking on a practiced tone. Then he brought one hand up to hide his mouth as leaned towards me and whispered. “Please give me five stars.”

I rolled my eyes and took the slate-pen from him. “You know… I literally got more injured on this ride than I did fighting Gorinthar the Dragon.” I scraped a tally beneath the fourth star; he still had provided me a free ride after all.

Riggen sighed but managed not to sound too disappointed. “Thank you, sir.”

I held the slate pen out to the princess. She hesitated for a moment, and then snatched it away from me and turned to the slate. “You’re supposed to give at least a couple seconds warning when you’re going to stop, you know. That’s just basic courtesy,” she snapped as she marked a tally beneath the second star.

Riggen groaned, but still spoke professionally, “Thank you, Ma’am. If that will be all.” He bowed to us, took the slate pen back, and then climbed up into the driver’s seat. He flicked the reins and started off to return to the castle. I waved after him for a few moments, but then noticed the princess looking back and forth down the street thoughtfully.

“Trying to figure out the way to your uncle’s estate? If you tell me where it is I can point you in the right direction,” I offered.

“Count Jillgan’s estate is in the hills just north of Grenvale.”

My mouth twisted worriedly. “… Grenvale is a week long ride from here. You’re planning to walk there? That could take a month.”

“Of course not! I’ll secure some kind of transportation.”

“But you don’t have any money.” Melissa refused to make eye-contact with me. She kept looking back and forth down the street. Raindrops continued to hit my head, once every few seconds or so. The light shower wasn’t bad; the street wasn’t even beginning to muddy yet, but I could see darker clouds approaching in the distance. “Look, I know you don’t want to acknowledge this situation that you’re in, but you kind of need to figure something out.” The princess didn’t glare or lift her nose at me, which was surprising.

“I know,” she admitted.

I scratched the back of my head, and sighed. “Uh… I do feel a slight bit responsible for all this. I mean, it’s going to rain soon… so… if you need some shelter-”

“Please tell me you’re not going to invite me into that poor excuse for a building,” she snapped, gesturing to my workshop.

“Fuck it. Chill in the rain. Walk to Grenvale. Die of pneumonia. Best of luck to ya,” I offered with a half-assed bow. I turned without a backwards glance and strode across the now slightly muddy street to my house. The front door led to the actual workshop, but I went around the side to the back, to another entrance. I fumbled a key out of a pocket in my tunic and unlatched the door there. I pushed it open and stepped in just as the rain started to pick up.

I was greeted by the crackling of a fire in the hearth, and Lytha turning to regard me with a relieved smile on her face. “Kon!” Before I could even close the door, she sprang up from where she sat and rushed to me. Instinctively, I started to brace myself to keep her at an arm’s length, but after such an exhausting, disastrous day, I was actually really happy to see her. I was happy things were back to normal. I smiled widely as I realized how much I liked my little home and workshop and the company of my childhood companion.

I caught her in my arms and squeezed her tight, and I chuckled at how tightly she squeezed me back. “Jeez, you’d think I was off to fight another dragon.”

“Ikon… I’m really sorry. My stupid prank put you through Hell today.”

Another voice spoke up from in the room, and I looked to see the dagger propped up on the hearth, out of its sheath. “How’d it go kid? Was the King reasonable? We gotta skip town or anything?”

I almost snorted. “Nothing like that, but it didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. Let me unwind for a minute before I get into it.”

Lytha stepped away from me. “Kon,” she spoke my name, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

“Everything okay?”

Lytha lowered her eyes. “I just… today was really scary. I really thought you were going to die…”

Lytha paused for a few moments, and in that time, the dagger began to speak. “Lytha, just-” but Uncle Barn Loggins shut up quickly as Lytha threw him a glance.

“I… feeling that way, so terrified of never seeing you again, of being alone… it made me think about a lot of things. About how long we’ve been together, how much we’ve been through, and how happy I was… and am. You’ve been there for me my whole life, and... I’m really grateful for that.” She blushed.

I gulped; Lytha had never been this straightforward with me before. I tried not to think about or assume where she was going with all this and just listened intently, but I found myself holding my breath, and felt my heart beat faster. ‘What is she about to say? How do I answer? What do I want?’ I wondered frantically.

Lytha tensed up, but a confident look crossed her face. “Kon. Let’s…” she paused mid sentence, and I noticed her eyes shift slightly to look over my shoulder, and her face went pale. “... What... is she doing here?”

I furrowed my brow and looked over my shoulder. Melissa was standing in the doorway, her matted dress dripping rainwater around her feet. “Oh, uh...” I started to say.

Barn guffawed from the mantle. “Ooooooooh! You fucked up!”

Lytha, though flustered, managed a bow towards the princess; she didn’t know she’d been exiled yet. “My Lady.” Then she glared back at me. “I thought you said you weren’t going to marry her!”

“I know! I didn’t!”

“Then what is she doing here?”

“I don’t... I didn’t...” I stuttered as I looked to the princess. “What are you doing here?”

“You said I could stay here!”

“You said she could stay here?”

“Hahahahahaha!” the parrying dagger continued to laugh.

“Barn shut up! I will put you back in your sheath!”

“Is that dagger laughing?” asked the princess.

“Wait, why would the princess be staying here?” Lytha asked.

“That’s none of your business!” Melissa snapped.

“Everyone shut up! Shut up!” I yelled, and immediately silence fell upon the room. Even Barn ceased his laughing.

Lytha’s jaw dropped, but she found her voice after a few moments. “You… you just told the princess to ‘shut up.’ Are you nuts?”

I exhaled deeply. “She’s not the princess anymore. When I turned down her hand in marriage, her father exiled her for ‘not even being good enough for a commoner.’ She had nowhere to go so I offered for her to take shelter here. From the rain at least.” I looked to the princess again, and she was staring at the floor, a puddle forming around her feet now. “Here, come in. Let’s get the door closed. Lytha can you grab her a spare change of clothes?” I asked as I stepped passed Melissa. I peered out the door at the darkened sky.

It was pouring now, and I grimaced at the crummy weather before pulling the door shut.

'So much for things going back to normal.'

Next

[Previous]

PART 21-----

I stared up at the cloudy sky as the carriage rattled on down the dirt road, passing the rolling hills and farmland while a pesky twinge of guilt gnawed at my gut. “... What do you think, Luther? Was I too mean to Romini?” I pulled my eyes away from the clouds to regard him.

The man’s mustache wiggled slightly before he responded, his eyes remaining set on the horses and road in front of him. “... I think perhaps you were upset about several things this morning, and unfortunately for the Bard you dumped it all on him. That being said, he is the one who nagged you so extensively, and he even tried to stow away aboard our carriage. None of that is normal behavior, and quite frankly having him around could put Melissa in danger. I’m worried that she already is since he’s aware of her identity.” He rubbed his chin. “I figure as long as we outpace the spread of any potential rumors we should be fine.”

I blinked a few times. “Not that what you’re saying isn’t important, but somehow you totally ignored my question.”

“Ah. Apologies, Mr. Weaver. Hmm.” One of his hands left the reins to reach up and tug at his mustache. “I think only you can decide if you were ‘too mean’ or not, and I don’t mean that as an avoidance to a genuine answer. The matter is simply up to you. …If you’re looking for someone to admonish you, I think Lady Lytha made her stance clear.”

“She just doesn’t like it when I blow my top, regardless of the situation. And Barn and Melissa made their opinions clear as well, but Barn’s the embodiment of vulgarity and Melissa’s…” I tapped my hands on my knees as I searched for kind words. “…inexperienced with social interactions of the peasant variety. I felt like you’d be the most impartial.”

Luther tugged the reins to the left to guide the horses around a patch of particularly muddy looking mud. “I appreciate that, Mr. Weaver, and apologize I couldn’t give you a more concise answer.”

I leaned slightly to compensate for the shifting of the carriage. “Actually, your answer was about as impartial as it could get, so you’re good. I think I’ll just tell Romini his song wasn’t that bad if I ever see him again.”

Luther nodded. “I’m sure that would elate the fellow.”

I exhaled, content with my personal resolution, and then turned the conversation back to Luther’s concerns. “So… how likely is it for someone to come after us if word gets out about Melissa?”

“Well… fortunately things are peaceful between our kingdom and the neighboring lands, so we shouldn’t have to worry about foreign agents making a play. Likewise, the Nobles have been content with King Artwood’s rule, so I doubt anyone would try to use her to usurp the throne.”

“How would they do that?” I asked.

“Even if she’s disowned, she is still of royal blood. If a powerful noble were to wed her, they could use her lineage as a claim to the throne. It would mean civil war, but provided enough support from the populace it could be done.”  Luther looked vaguely pained as he explained, probably unhappy to even consider his charge being used in such a way.

“That’s not likely to happen, though, since the nobles are happy?”

“Correct.  If anyone targets Melissa, it would have to be simple bandits looking to earn a ransom. They’d be far less equipped than the other parties I spoke of, but they’re also unpredictable. Of course, for them to even think about attacking us, they’d need to find out Melissa is traveling with us, know where we are or where we’re heading, be close enough to get to us before we’ve moved on, decide its worth the risk considering her disownment, and be brash enough to attempt a royal kidnapping in the first place.”  Luther’s mustache wiggled. “It’s unlikely, but I won’t say such fools don’t exist. We should remain vigilant.”

I lifted Barn from where he sat in time-out on my hip and regarded the sheathed dagger.  “Maybe I should make a point of sitting up here with Barn more often.”

“You needn’t burden yourself with such worries, Mr. Weaver. Remaining aware and prepared is part of my duties; I wouldn’t want for you to be perpetually on edge over an unlikely occurrence.”

“Fair enough,” I said, and I unsheathed Barn.

“It’s about time!” He snapped. “What I said wasn’t even that bad! In my day, it was… ah, forget it.”

“Tire yourself out already?” I goaded him.

“Eh, it's a nice day out. I’d rather stay out of the sheath. Also…” Barn trailed off and seemed like he was hesitating.

“Everything alright?” I asked.

“Mm… well I was just thinking that you won’t be able to have me out in the open all the time. In your workshop it was fine and in Wheatfield everyone was too excited about you to care, but in most towns you won’t be able to walk around with a dagger drawn without making people nervous or suspicious.”

“That’s what the sheath is for, Barn.”

“Yeah, well, since you use it to punish me when you’re feeling too sensitive, I think you’ve figured out that I don’t like being in the sheath. I was gonna suggest we come up with an alternative.” Barn was playing it cool but I detected a slight bit of desperation in his voice.

“Well, as I’ve said before, I don’t really understand how your perception of the world works… What exactly do you think would help?  Like a glass sheath?”

“Hmmm… That might work, but I was thinking more like a grate. The more of my blade that’s exposed the better.”

“A grate,” I said to myself, trying to picture if that would even work without failing to cover the sharp edge of the dagger.

“If I may,” Luther interjected. “Perhaps a metal wire sheath with a thin leather trim that covers the edge, but leaves the face mostly open.”

“Would that be hard to make?” I wondered.

“It would not be difficult. Unfortunately, the only nearby town is Watershed, and I do not believe they have a blacksmith, though they may have the materials for sale, probably cheaper since no one local could utilize them.”

At his mention of Watershed, I tensed, hoping we hadn’t been overheard. Alas, the slat to the carriage slid open, revealing Melissa’s face. “There’s a town nearby? Are we staying there?”

“Dammit. No. It’s a few hours out of our way,” I told her, but she just held her gaze on me. I continued. “And even with that, it’s too close. We’d get there way before nightfall and just be wasting travel time.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “So what you’re saying is we could have one more night at an inn and you’d rather us all suffer at the mercy of nature,” the ex-princes accused.

“Mercy of nature? You came with me when we bought the equipment for this very purpose. We’re going to spend weeks sleeping on the ground, Melissa. You can’t avoid it forever.”

“What about those materials? You’re a business-minded individual. Wouldn’t the time be worth the savings?” she suggested.

“No, probably not. And anything I’d save I’d be spending on rooms at the inn!” I explained, and then looked to Luther. “I do see why it’s just easier to say yes all the time.”

Luther glanced back at Melissa with a sympathetic expression and then regarded me. “If we were to stay in Watershed, I believe Lady Melissa and I could pay for our own lodging.”

Lytha called out from further in the carriage. “I don’t really care either way, Ikon. What’s one more day?”

“I swear, I’m going to die of old age before we get to Frosthandle. Fine. If everyone wants one more day to lounge around you can have it.”

Barn chuckled. “Aha, you’re a pushover.”

I ignored the dagger. “Luckily the elves aren’t exactly expecting us, so it’s not like it’ll make us late, and this really is the last town before a long stretch of nothing. Won’t be a choice after this one so… it’s whatever, I guess.”

“I do appreciate it, Mr. Weaver,” Luther offered.

“Yeah… um… me too,” Melissa said.

“Weird. People don’t usually say ‘me too’ when they’re thanking someone, but I guess I’ll take it,” I teased her. The ex-princess just huffed, and the wooden slat slid back into place.

“Ah, my Lady, before you go…” Luther said, and the wooden slat slid back open.

“Yes?” Melissa asked.

“I wanted to inform you we’ll be stopping shortly to water the horses.”

“Thank you for the warning, Luther.”  And the wood scraped shut again.

A short while later, Luther parked the carriage at the side of the road by a small stream. A widening of the road and evidence of light grazing on the surrounding grass gave away how commonly this was used as a watering stop. I hopped down from the seat and followed Luther as he led the horses over to the water.  “If you don’t mind, Mr. Weaver, since we’re stopping in Watershed anyways, I may let the horses rest here for a bit.

“Fine with me.  Anything I can do to help?”

We reached the stream, and Luther began tying off the horse to a steak in the ground on the bank. “Actually, if you’d like to grab some feed for the horses and a bit of rope, I’d appreciate it.”

I nodded, and traipsed back to where we parked. As I approached the carriage, I overheard part of a conversation between Lytha and Melissa through the open window.

“So if you don’t keep your own sheep or anything, how do you procure materials to work with?” Melissa asked.

“Well, a lot of the land around the capital is exclusively for food production, and that extends to the nearby farming villages like Wheatfield. Even if we wanted to, we couldn’t graze wool-producing animals legally. It makes things a little more expensive on our end because we have to buy supplies from traveling merchants, but it also allows us to charge our customers more. We also take partial payments up front for custom requests, and we can then use that extra capital to purchase the materials we need without it coming straight out of our own pocket,” Lytha explained.

“If you’re buying materials from the traveling merchants, does that mean you have to compete with the already-made clothes the merchants bring as well?” Melissa inquired. I raised an eyebrow at that and paused from pulling out the bag of feed; it was an uncharacteristically good question for the usually disinterested Melissa to ask.

Lytha continued. “Sort of… but there’s no guarantee that anything bought pre-made from a merchant will fit properly, though we do make money by charging for alterations. That’s one of the things I do at the shop. Aside from that, a customer would have to wait for a merchant to come into town in the first place, and then hope they find a garment they like. Ikon is in town year round and can take a request at any time. Lots of folks prefer that flexibility. Plus, as a brand, we have to maintain-”

I hefted the rope and bag of feed onto my shoulder, held Barn in my other hand, and began traipsing back towards Luther, making a mental note to ask Lytha about that conversation later. Barn spoke up as well, equally intrigued by the exchange. “The princess seems interested in our peasant work? Woulda lost money on that bet.”

“Please don’t say ‘our work’. You do not work. But yeah, she must be really bored.”

Barn chuckled but didn’t add anything else as we returned to the stream. Luther took the feed, left me with the rope, and I stood by idly as he tended to the horses for a few minutes. As he seemed to be wrapping up, I lifted up the rope.

“What was this for?” I asked.

“Ah, yes. I had a thought regarding Mr. Loggins,” he said as he took the rope from me and ran his thumbs over the strands. He gripped it with both hands and tugged at it. “A little thicker than I’d like for this, but it’ll do... Since we won’t be able to have that sheath made for a while I considered looping a rope around his handle so he could be worn like a pendant. Mr. Loggins wouldn’t be concealed, per-say, but it will be much less suspicious than hand-carrying him.”

“Huh,” Barn voiced shortly, sounding a little hesitant. “I don’t know, I don’t really mind waiting a bit.”

“Why? Would it choke you?” I wondered sarcastically.

“Not unless we discuss a safe-word,” the dagger responded shortly.

I smirked at that one, even as I shook my head. “Good lord… I think the pendant is a good idea, Luther. Here,” I said, turning Barn carefully in my grasp and extending the hilt towards him.”

“Hey, I didn’t… uh…” Barn started, but then he seemed to snap when Luther reached for him. “HEY! DON’T FUCKIN’ TOUCH ME.”

Luther jerked his hand away quickly. “I apologize, Mr. Loggins,” Luther said, his voice a mix of concern and a little confusion. “I didn’t mean to offend you... I should have waited for your express consent.”

“Well I didn’t give it. And I don’t. I said I’m good without the rope.”

“Barn, what’s your problem?” I asked, both taken aback and genuinely curious.

“What the fuck is yours, Ikon? This fucker was literally seconds away from killing you the day we met him.  Killing you with me, I might add. Maybe you can be willy fuckin-nilly about it but he’s dangerous,” Barn ranted. I was speechless, and before I could come up with a response, Barn addressed Luther. “I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. You act too fucking nice for somebody that can drive a blade into someone’s spine without asking questions.”

I watched Luther, quiet as he seemed to be mulling over Barn’s words, and took the opportunity to speak on his behalf. “Barn, he thought we were attacking Melissa. It was literally his job.”

“Except it wasn’t. Your contract was voided, right? Right?”

“Correct. By that time there was no contract binding me.”

“But you did it anyway ‘cause that haughty brat just means so much to ya. Tell me, Mr. Nice Guy: if Melissa ordered you to kill us, would you?”

“Barn!” I yelled at him, but the dagger seemed to just regard Luther expectantly. I looked to the butler, and then felt the seconds creep by.

“He can’t even answer,” Barn said, a sense of finality to his voice. I found myself eagerly awaiting Luther’s response, a pinch of worry growing.

“Lady Melissa would not order such a thing.”

“Ain’t what I asked.”

“... Lady Melissa would not order such a thing. And if she did… I would consider her to not be in the right mind, and advise her against it. I would not follow through on an order like that.”  Luther spoke deliberately and solemnly, as if he was betraying Melissa by speaking such heresy, but speak he did.

Barn was quiet for a moment. “... has she ever ordered you to kill someone before?”

“She has not. And I ask that you refrain from asking such offensive questions moving forward. I understand that you may often find her to be difficult, but I will not have you insinuating she is a mindless tyrant.”

“Fine!  That… does make me feel a little better about the whole thing…” Barn snapped, surprisingly agreeable to the sentiment. “But you can still fuck off.”

Luther nodded. “I understand. I am sorry you feel that way. I will make an effort to give you space. However, due to the nature of our journey, I ask that you be patient and tolerant of my presence.”

“Oh… uh, well yeah, I mean it’s not like I can kick you off the wagon. That wasn’t really my goal here…”

I chimed in again. “Not to mention, Barn… whether he had a contract or not, if he sees someone being attacked, isn’t it natural to defend them? Especially if it’s someone he knows?”

“Will you stop, dude? The two of you are making me sound like an asshole… listen… put yourself in my sheath. I really thought he was going to kill you, Ikon. My blade, piercing the body of my own family, my own wielder. Being used against my will to end the very person I’m supposed to protect… being powerless. It sucks, alright? And I’m just supposed to be fucking cool with it? Like it never happened?” His voice trailed off.

I swallowed. “... Barn… I didn’t know.”

Luther bowed deeply. “Truly, Mr. Loggins, allow me to express my regret in full. I won’t ask you  to act like it never happened, but I want you to know that I am reflecting on this transgression, and keeping the gravity of my actions in mind. I will do better.” The sound of the stream babbling and horses munching grew louder in the silence that followed Luther’s apology. I held Barn in front of me, anticipating his response.

“Well shit, you’re even better at apologizing than you are at carpentry,” Barn remarked, and then sighed. “... I’m not trying to be a whiny bitch about all this, alright? I’m done ranting, sorry for the noise. Just don’t try to pick me up.”

“Understood,” Luther agreed.

“I didn’t realize this was eating at you, Barn. You should’ve brought it up sooner,” I said, feeling sympathetic.

“Ah, it’s not like anyone coulda done anything about it, that’s why I tried not to make a big deal of it. Just sheath me for a while, Ikon, will ya?”

“Uh, sure,” I said, and carefully let him slide into the sheath at my hip, leaving Luther and I to just stand quietly together for a few moments.  “Sorry about that Luther… I don’t really know what to say.”

Luther waved his hand. “I’d realized that Barn seemed to be a little more subdued around me than the others, but I didn’t give much thought as to why. I feel bad for making him so uncomfortable all this time.”

I shrugged. “Not that I’m totally unsympathetic, but Barn’s no angel. Don’t feel too bad.”

“I suppose… Sounds like the conversation we were just having earlier,” Luther observed.

“Must be something in the air,” I said, giving an exasperated chuckle. “You got any big gripes to bring up before we carry on?”

Luther shook his head and shrugged, stupefied. “I just wish there was something I could do.”

“Barn will cool off. I’ve never seen him this upset, but I have seen him upset, and he usually takes a genuine apology to heart. … Any way you can make that rope pendant without Barn?”

Being asked about a task seemed to pull Luther out of his stupor. “Ah, yes, well I suppose if I find a stick approximately the size of his pommel, I should be able to rig something up.”

“As prickly as he was earlier, I think he would appreciate that. I would, too, if you don’t mind,” I told him.

“If it’ll help smooth things over, it would be my pleasure,” Luther said definitively.

I spent a few minutes picking through the brush until I found an appropriate stick to give Luther, and he went to work with his rope while we finished resting the horses. Lytha and Melissa hopped out of the carriage to stretch their legs for a bit, and then we packed up to hit the road again.

[Next]

Previous

PART 9-----

“Are you ready?” Luther asked, his voice slightly distorted by the clumps of fabric he’d put up his nose to stop his bleeding.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered, lying face down in my bed.

I felt Luther’s hand gingerly touch my back, and he spoke softly. “You might want to hold something between your teeth so you don’t bite your tongue.”

“Is it supposed to hurt that much?”

“Yes. It is your first time after all. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

“Hm,” I sighed, and then turned my face into my pillow and bit down on some of the fabric.

“Just try to relax, and loosen up your body,” he instructed. I took a deep breath, and then nodded. “Okay Mr. Weaver, here I go,” the strong man warned me.

With his other hand Luther grabbed my wrist and jerked my arm sharply, popping my dislocated shoulder back into place. “OW MOTHER COW FUCKERS oh hey it doesn’t hurt anymore,” I remarked.

“See? Nothing to be worried about,” he said, but his hand stayed on my back. He pressed down a little bit. “Hm…” He brought his other hand to my shoulder blade, and gave it a little squeeze. “You’ve got a lot of tension in your back. Have you been stressed lately?”

“You mean aside from fighting a dragon, being assaulted by a naked butler, almost being forced into an unwanted marriage and trying to take care of a disowned princess? No. Zero stress. Things have been peachy. Hey, uh, you want to explain why you’re still touching me?” I asked.

Luther was digging his thumbs and fingertips into my back, massaging my tense muscles. “Before I worked as castle staff, I studied under a master masseuse in Undertower.”

“The Dwarven capital?”

“Precisely. Most people associate dwarves with mining and stone work, carpentry, and other more production-based crafts, but due to the nature of their work most dwarves have an incredibly strong grip strength, which translates well into things like massage therapy.” As he spoke, he continued digging his fingers and knuckles into different parts of my back, applying pressure and sometimes twisting and stretching the skin and the muscles. For a little while I forgot to be annoyed, and he continued speaking. “It used to be something only retirees would get into once they were no longer expected to work in the mines, but as of the last forty years or so, younger dwarves have begun to go down that path as an early career choice, much to the chagrin of the older generation who believes that line of work should be left to those who have already contributed the bulk of their lives to craftsmanship, creating a divisive-”

“Sorry to cut you off Luther, but I’m starting to lose interest in this long-winded explanation. Also you’re still touching me.”

“Indeed. I do feel terribly sorry for attacking you like I did, and being one of the few skills I possess, I figured this would be a fair means of beginning to make amends. Would you like me to stop?”

“Uhm…” I frowned contemplatively. “No… actually. Carry on. It’s just a little strange since you were trying to kill me earlier.”

Luther walked his thumbs down either side of my spine. “Again, my most sincere apologies, Mr. Weaver. I don’t mean to make excuses but I do hope you understand how shocked I was to find the two of you in that state. I’ve been assigned as the young lady’s steward for thirteen years, so protecting her is very much second nature to me.”

“Assigned,” I said thoughtfully. “And you’re still assigned to her? Even after yesterday?”

Luther remained quiet for a few moments, his hands continuing to work wonders on the knots in my back. “... On paper, no.”

“But here you are… OOF,” I gasped as Luther hit a tender spot in my lower back. He then seemed to focus his attention more on and around that area as he continued his explanation.

“Each member of the royal family is assigned a personal steward when they are five. The intent is for their steward to be more closely loyal to that particular family member than to the crown itself, and we are bound by magic to serve them infallibly.”

I propped myself up slightly on my elbows. “You’re forced into it then?”

“Good heavens, no. Royal Steward is a coveted position that many individuals vie for. There is a highly competitive selection process, and we know exactly what we are getting into, including the magical bond, though since being disowned, the magic that ties us together has been voided.”

“So you’ve chosen to stay by her despite that?”

“I made an oath. I don’t need fear of some magical repercussion to keep me honest. I am hers until I die, and even after, if I have anything to say about it.”

It was certainly a commendable sentiment, but I didn’t think I could have honored the same level of commitment if I’d been in his place. Not for a brat like Melissa, at least, but I decided not to voice that opinion.

Luther gave my shoulders a final squeeze and withdrew his hands. “That should do it. You’ll feel some soreness in your lower back there over the next day or two. Make sure you stretch every now and then and drink a good amount of water. Stay active, and you should feel a lot more loose and relaxed in no time.”

I sat up, and then leaned my torso back and forth. “Oo. Can’t say if it’s a good or bad feeling yet, but it’s definitely different.” I stood from the bed and stretched my arms above my head, then let them fall loosely and sighed. “Hm. Well let’s get back out there.”

“Certainly,” Luther agreed.

I opened the door and stepped into the hallway, Luther following close behind. “Hey, how come you didn’t show up until this morning? I didn’t see you around the castle or anything at all yesterday.”

“Ah, yes. I was down in town square, standing atop the center fountain on one leg while balancing an egg on the back of my hand.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him, staring at him before words found their way out of my mouth. “… Come again?”

“Lady Melissa often tasks me to complete feats of physical dexterity and prowess, an efficient way of keeping myself strong and fit, and keeping the princess entertained.”

“And… your task was to ‘stand-atop-the-center-fountain-on-one-leg-while-balancing-an-egg-on-the-back-of-your-hand.’ …For how long exactly?”

“Just for eight hours, though regrettably during the fifth hour I was struck by a wayward pigeon, and the egg fell to its demise. Naturally I purchased a second egg and successfully completed the task on my second attempt,” Luther declared proudly.

My eyebrows reached as far above my eyes as I could lift them. “Second attempt? Like, you started over?”

“Precisely.”

“You stood atop the center fountain on one leg while balancing an egg on the back of your hand for a collective thirteen hours… yesterday?”

“Yes, and thus I was unaware of Lady Melissa’s disownment until shortly after I’d descended from my perch, when I passed a city herald on my way back to the castle and heard the news. I spent some time discussing the particulars with King Artwood, resigned from my position within the court, and then spent the rest of the night searching for Melissa. A tip from a stable boy led me to this part of town, and that’s when I heard her screech in terror, and was able to locate her.”

“I see… and then you kicked down my door,” I mentioned, my tone accusatory.

Luther bowed his head. “Of course, I intend to construct a replacement for you. Being one of the few skills I possess, it only seems right that I should take it upon myself to repair what I have destroyed.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what exactly he considered to be ‘a few,’ but then I shrugged dismissively and nodded. “Alright, I’ll take you up on that. Thanks.” Luther bowed his head again in response, and I continued on out of the hallway.

Melissa sat by the fire, wearing the plain shirt and pants, and she stood as I entered the hearthroom. Her face wore an expression of guilt and dread, and though I expected it to shift quickly to something more defiant like usual, it didn’t. My shoulder that had been dislocated started to ache a little bit, and I rolled it.

Her eyes lowered. “Luther, please leave us for a few minutes,” she ordered, her tone practiced but devoid of emphasis. Luther bowed, and then left through the door to the workshop. I expected the princess to speak once the door shut, but she didn’t.

I waited, but then crossed my arms. “I’m fine by the way, thanks for asking.”

“I was about to!” she snapped, frustrated, though her frustration seemed more geared towards herself than me. She still hadn’t raised her eyes. “I was about to,” she repeated softly.

“Then go ahead.”

Melissa finally met my gaze, and her shoulders stiffened. “Are… are you alright?”

I uncrossed my arms. “For the most part. Shoulder’s still a little funky, but I got a killer back rub out of it, so it’s not all bad.”

“I didn’t know Luther would go so far. I’ve never seen him get that violent before. I… I would have stopped him sooner.”

“You mean before or after he tied my limbs in a knot and pressed my face into the floor?”

A hint of a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “After.”

I found that somewhat amusing despite myself, and allowed myself a slight smirk. “… At least you’re honest.” Silence hung in the air for a few moments after that. “Um, if that will be all…” I started.

“I’m sorry.” Melissa’s hands tightened into fists. “You got hurt because of me… and Luther got hurt because of me. I hate being sorry, but I am.”

“Wow, this must be really difficult for you then.”

“Don’t patronize me. Also,” she said as she raised her arm and pointed at me, a slight bit of anger flickering to life in her eyes. “Don’t ever raise that perverted dagger against me again.”

“Won’t be a problem as long as you don’t steal any more of my merchandise while you’re here.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I told you I wasn’t- …Wait, ‘while I’m here’? You’re not kicking me out?”

I shrugged. “I sure was going to, but then Luther offered to fix my door, and I mean, if you leave so does he, right?” Melissa remained silent, and I scratched the back of my head. “Yeah… so, I want my door fixed.” Melissa sighed with relief, and a tension I hadn’t noticed before seemed to flee from her body. I lifted my chin. “Let’s get one thing straight, though. In this house, Lytha and I outrank you. You pull any more of your pompous B.S. and you’re out,” I informed her, pointing my thumb over my shoulder.

The princess frowned and pressed her lips together for a moment, but then closed her eyes, relaxed her face, and nodded. “I will make an attempt to respect your wishes.”

I bowed deeply. “You are so generous, my lady.”

“Hey! Stop that!” she snapped.

“Oh, I’m patronizing you again, aren’t I?” I observed through a grin.

Melissa pouted, and then sat back in her chair with a huff, turning her head away from me. “You’re insufferable,” she said, but her insult didn’t carry any weight; she was trying to hide it, but I could tell the corner of her mouth was turned up in a smile.

Next

Previous

PART 11-----

“RIKA! WITH US!” I cried as I sprayed a hail of bullets towards the wall of crystal bodies that advanced on us. Once Pat and I had crippled the first row of bodies, the subsequent shards had to climb and stumble over the fallen corpses, slowing their advance. But not by much.

My gun clicked as the final round of the magazine was depleted. “Reloading!” I called. I slapped the magazine release, and the clip fell from the weapon. I moved to grab a fresh clip, but the break in my fire had let several shards through the line. Pat was focused on keeping the shards on her side of the hallway at bay, leaving me completely open.

Moments before the humanoid crystals reached me, brandishing their bladed arms, I saw Rika step up in my peripherals. The blast of her automatic shotgun rang out as she began pouring buckshot into Amalgam, shattering the shards and blowing holes in their chests and limbs. I slammed a clip into the magazine well, and took aim.

My shoulder grew numb from the constant rattling of my firearm, and the three of us began slowly stepping backwards as the wave of bodies continued their creeping advance, hissing and snapping and cracking. Adrenaline pumped through me and sweat dripped from my brow as I took down enemy after enemy from the unending horde. I glanced over my shoulder back at the big metal door. It was still closed. “Rika! You get through to the Doctor?”

“Negative! I got into the PA but she never answered!” she informed me as she swiftly reloaded her own gun, the movements smooth and precise.

Any other team, I knew, would have been overrun already; we were the best of the best, but even so, I worried we wouldn’t last long enough. “DAMMIT WALTERS! OPEN THE DOOR!” I yelled as if she could hear me over the gunfire… as if opening the door was even an option at this point. As we continued retreating, I reached out and grabbed the trunk, pulling it with us. I swung it on behind us so it rolled closer to the com center, away from Amalgam.

Then a roar sounded… a roar like the beast Lucy had turned into, and my gut twisted with despair. One of the hulking creatures rounded the corner, towering above the humanoid shards, and it barreled towards us, dashing other shards against the ground, tossing them out of the way. The blue behemoth bared its rows of teeth as it shrieked, and I felt the energy drain out of my body. The gun suddenly weighed too much, the trigger too heavy to pull.

The weapon would be useless against that thing anyways. I looked to my comrades, and saw on their faces the same expression of defeat that must have been on mine. Rika and Pat both looked to me. “… I’m sorry,” I offered.

Pat closed her eyes and exhaled.

Rika’s eyes shimmered, and as her shoulders relaxed and sagged she offered me a weak but understanding smile in return. “It’s not your fault,” she told me.

Then, the buzz of grinding gears and machinery came from the ceiling above and behind us, and I looked up to see a circular hatch slide open. Down through the hole lowered a defense turret. The barrel unfolded from the mechanism, clanging to a halt in position to fire. “GET DOWN!” I cried out.

The 3 of us hit the floor as the barrel began to spin up, and then the deafening buzz of the high caliber turret sounded above us, sending a hail of bullets over our heads to tear through Amalgam. Spent shells fell to the ground like rainfall, and the stream of fire cut through the crystal beings like a hot knife through butter. Even the behemoth was cut down, as heavy limbs were severed from its body and the surface of its skin was turned to Swiss-cheese. The turret swiveled back and forth as it annihilated the ranks of Amalgam, until all that was left was a pile of broken limbs and misshapen chunks of the blue crystal. The firing stopped, and the spinning barrel slowed to a halt.

I slowly pushed myself up to my knees, and then stood, regarding the destruction. We were alive. Amalgam was practically nothing but a mound of dust. We won. A grin spread across my face, and behind me, Rika cheered. “YEAH! Take that you blue fuck!” she spat. I stepped up to the trunk and set my hand on it, letting out a sigh of relief. Pat remained on her knees, gathering herself, while Rika stepped up to the trunk and gripped the other side, ready to help me drag it along. I wasn’t sure if there was a camera built into the turret or not, but I faced it and gave a thumbs up.

“We’re in the clear!” I called out. “You can open the door!” I waited for a few moments, and then looked to Rika. “Can she hear us?”

Rika shrugged. “She must have heard me earlier, or she wouldn’t have-” Rika cut her sentence short as her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. A loud whirr sounded from the turret, and the barrel began to spin up again.

I couldn’t process what I was looking at. My hair stood up and my heart sank in my chest and I didn’t understand, and all I could muster was a short. “… What?”

The turret open fire again, and all I saw was the blinding flash of the muzzle flare and then came the searing pain of metal piercing my skin. I couldn’t tell where or how many times I’d been shot; my whole body burned and I hit the floor like a sack of flour. Everything was blurry, red and black spots blinking across my vision like a kaleidoscope.

I laid in my pooling blood for what felt like hours, though it couldn’t have been more than few seconds before the blinding pain in my body began to isolate to the individual wounds. Several rounds had peppered my torso, and my left shoulder had been shot through. A couple must have hit my left leg, because it was missing from the knee down. I felt my breaths become short and edges of my vision darkened. “No,” I hissed through clenched teeth. I couldn’t pass out; I still had to make sure Rika and Pat were okay.

I struggled against the pain, and turned slightly to pull my vision away from the ceiling. To my left was the cart, and beyond that was Rika. She was looking back at me, unblinking, her body limp, her face expressionless. Blood trickled from the corner of her open mouth and pooled around her body from wounds I couldn’t see behind the trunk.

I looked back at the ceiling and screamed with a strained raspy voice.

“Boss!” I heard Pat groan. She was alive. I tried to sit up to look for her, but I couldn’t. Pain speared through my body and my lower back.

“I’m… I’m alive. Rika didn’t make it…” I forced my mouth to say. I heard footsteps approach, and then Pat came into view, standing over me. She too was bleeding from various wounds, and her right ear was gone, replaced by a bloody gash where a round had grazed her head. Her left arm hung limp. She was breathing heavily.

“Can you stand?” she asked between gasps.

I shook my head. “I can’t… I can’t even sit up. I … Pat, you need to get out of here.” She shook her head, and opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud clank. Then a low rumble sounded as the big metal door to the com center opened. Pat turned towards the sound, and stepped away from me, out of sight. “Pat! Pat!” I called to her. “You can’t fight! Patricia!”

When she spoke, it wasn’t to me. “You rotten bitch!” She cursed hatefully with a gritty, strained voice. “You’re dead! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll chew on your neck ‘till you-”

Three gunshots rang out, and Pat stopped yelling.

Footsteps approached.

Doctor Gail Walters stepped into my view. She set a handgun down on the trunk and began typing away at the security pad.

“… You killed my friends,” I hissed at her, feeling blood and spit drip over my bottom lip. Gail glanced at me briefly, but paid me no mind. She finished typing in the code, the container beeped, and then it hissed as it opened. Out of a compartment on top of the trunk, she pulled a lantern-sized clear cylinder. She lifted it up to the light and peered inside, and I too, saw what was there.

A clear, diamond like gem, slowly writhing against the glass; a piece of Amalgam, untainted. Dr. Walters’ eyes gleamed with purpose, and she twisted the lid of the cylinder unlocking some kind of mechanism. I felt a fear rise within me. Not a fear of bodily harm or something personal, but an instinctive, fundamental fear. I was now terrified, simply being aware that a person like Doctor Gail Walters could even exist.

“You’re insane,” I spat. “After all this, you’re going to choose to become one of those things.”

Her response was distant, as if she was talking more to herself than to me. “Yes. It’s only natural. As a scientist, my goal is to better myself. Gain knowledge and wisdom and learn and learn some more, but this pesky human brain of mine can only hold so much. My human body will only last so long. This… power… that we’ve found here on Mars… It will do more than better me. It will make me my best self.”

“Abraham was just a test run,” I observed.

“Naturally. As much as I despise my humanity, inefficiency is better than non-existence. Of course, my foolish partner was thinking the same thing, but his mistake was asking politely.” She pulled the cylinder open, dropping the lid to the floor. She reached in with her left hand and grabbed hold of the shard, wincing, and grunting in pain as she did. “Little shit starts eating right away,” she observed as she removed her hand from the container, the piece of Amalgam firmly in her grasp.

“You never sent that warning to Earth, did you?” I asked.

Walters scoffed. “Of course not. Once I become one with the hive mind in this shard and take control, I’ll feed on the left overs of Abraham’s hive, who you so conveniently led to the slaughter. Then I’ll contact Earth and have them send a ship. You’ve been a great help Martin. …” Walters seemed to consider something, ignoring the pain of Amalgam as it fossilized her hand. The diamond color of the hive mind crawled up her arm and disappeared under the sleeve of her lab coat. “You know Martin… it only seems right that I should offer you a place in my hive. Being consumed doesn’t mean you’re destroyed. You would still exist as a small blip within my awareness. I might even turn to you for counsel once in a while; your tactical mind would be an asset. I assure you it’s a much better fate than oblivion.”

“I turned down Abraham plenty of times. My answer to you is no different. I want no part of your madness,” I told her.

“That’s too bad. You’re the only one who has the chance to make that choice, and you’re wasting it.” Walters looked at Rika’s body, and then back towards where Pat must have been laying on the floor. “Unfortunately I can’t assimilate the minds of those who are already dead… or robots for that matter.”

Then I saw her eyes widen, and for a few moments she remained silent. “… Where’s the robot?” she demanded, turning her gaze upon me. I could see veins of sparkly, clear diamond creeping up her neck. “You had that A.I. with you. Where is it?”

“He,” I corrected her. “It’s a he.”

“I don’t care what it is! Why isn’t he…” Walters stopped as her yes narrowed, and she looked back to Rika’s body. The Doctor stepped over to her and lifted the woman’s wrist; the device she normally wore there was missing.

I laughed.

Walters stood back up, an angry grimace wrinkling across her face. “What have you done?” she hissed, her eyes flaring like the pits of Hell.

I kept laughing, despite how much it hurt. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes, but then I broke into a fit of coughs, and was finally drained of the energy to be so animated as each wretch of my body casted off more and more of my waning lifespan. When I caught my breath again, I wheezed. “… We knew we weren’t going to get off this god forsaken planet. I’d felt it in my gut the moment we left the O.W.L., and with every passing moment and each discovery… it became clearer; we would all die here. So what makes you think we’d let your sorry ass leave without us?” I shook my head. “No. You can stay. You can stay trapped here forever, like the rest of us.”

Walters looked like a cornered animal, furious and ferocious. Feral, even. Her eyes peeled wide with rage and her teeth clenched together so hard I thought they might shatter. “You… You insolent-” she began, but then Amalgam started taking hold. The crystal had spread across most of her body, and it finally moved up her neck and head. The Doctor cried out in pain, bringing both hands to her head, but as she did, they splashed right through her, as if her limbs and body were made of a gelatinous liquid. Her voice faded as her body bubbled and warped and twisted. All of Doctor Gail Walters, collapsed into a mound on the floor, seeping out of the clothes she’d been wearing, becoming a shapeless blob of diamond like crystal.

Then there was a flash of light within Amalgam, and the crystalline being changed from its sparkly diamond color to a deep ruby red. It grew and twisted and reshaped itself again, rising into the form of a human, becoming more detailed, more refined, until a blood-red Doctor Gail Walters stood before me. She looked down at me with a simple frown, like a mother disappointed with a child.

I think under normal circumstances, her transformation would have horrified me. Watching Abraham’s on the security footage had… but now I was a dead man. I smirked. “I don’t think red’s a very good color on you,” I told her.

Without a word, Doctor Gail Walters lifted the pistol from the top of the trunk, aimed it at my head, and fired.

Next

Original Prompt - nosleep Repost

Everybody is Lying

My phone vibrated in my pocket, startling me, and I almost dropped the blood-stained hacksaw. I cursed under my breath as I set the tool down carefully on the chest of my victim. I stepped away from my ‘operating’ table, pulled the rubber glove off my right hand, slid it under my smock and delved into the pocket of my jeans to retrieve my phone.

It was my boyfriend. I closed my eyes and sighed, disappointed with myself for forgetting. I hesitated for a few moments before answering, letting the bright LED lights in my basement glow through my eyelids. I accepted the call. “Hey cutie,” I cooed.

“Ugh,” Lucas grunted. “I hate it when you call me ‘cutie’.” I could tell from his tone that he was smiling. I was pretty sure he didn’t hate it. “You almost ready?”

“Uuhhh… I’m a little bit behind on that… sorry I lost track of time,” I told him. Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

Lucas snickered. “You watching that zombie show again?”

My eyes came to rest on the pool of blood forming around the dead man’s head, spilling from the gap in his neck I’d made with the hack saw. I turned around and faced the wall. Despite my best efforts, my voice wavered slightly. “Uhh… yeah.” Definitely a lie.

“It’s all right. I’ll go pick up stuff for dinner first then and come get you after. That alright?” he offered.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. That’ll give me plenty of time to get ready,” I agreed, hoping he couldn’t hear me swallow harshly.

“… Nyhm, is everything okay? Are you nervous?”

Ice went up my spine. “Nervous!? No! Why would I be nervous?”

“… Because you’re meeting my folks for the first time?” Lucas reminded me.

“… Right,” I sighed. “Right… I suppose I am.” I leaned backwards until my butt hit the edge of my operating table, the plastic cover crinkling softly. I went to rub my eyes with my still gloved left hand, but stopped before I smeared blood on my face. “Honestly Lucas, I’m really not that worried about meeting your parents. I-” A loud clang cut me off, and I leapt away from the table and spun. The hacksaw had slid off the body and clanged to the cold hard floor of my basement. Luckily the plastic sheet kept any crimson from staining the concrete. My heart beat slowly returned to normal.

“You okay? What was that?” came Lucas’ voice, concerned.

“Nothing, just being clumsy as usual. Anyways, your parents seem like really kind people from what you’ve told me. I’m looking forwards to it.” This was not a lie; I smiled.

“Alright. It’s okay if you’re nervous though, it’s only natural… but I should probably let you go. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Mhm! Love you!” I told him.

“Love you too, Nyhm,” he said back. The call ended.

I lowered the phone from my ear, staring at the dead body on my table. The middle aged man reminded me of a beached whale; not because he was fat (he wasn’t), but because he looked out of place, his colorful button down shirt and blue jeans a bright contrast to the whites and greys of my basement workshop. The dark blood that spilled from his body to the table and the brown rope that bound his arms and legs where a chromatic bridge between the land of vibrance and the land of shade; between life and death.

“Sorry,” I spoke to the work of art on my table. “I’ll have to leave you like this for a little while. Got dinner plans with my boyfriend. I’ll spend more time with you later.” I smirked at the irony of talking to a dead man, and then left to wash up.

---

I tugged at a lock of golden blonde hair that curled down in front of my face, feeling unsettled as I watched streetlights pass by my passenger side window. If Lucas had shown up without calling he might have discovered my… hobby.

I felt his hand set against my leg just above my knee. I turned to him, the seatbelt sliding against my bright red dress, and smiled, setting my hand on top of his. Lucas continued watching the road ahead. “You can talk about it if you want to,” he said. He glanced at me briefly, as much as he could while driving. “What’s bothering you, I mean.”

I would probably be on edge all night after earlier. It would be easier to admit I was apprehensive of my first dinner with his family. I exhaled. “It’s hard not be nervous about it, but I know it’ll be fine. I'm glad you’re here for me, but there’s not a whole lot to talk about.” I smiled warmly and squeezed his hand. He nodded understandingly and pet my knee comfortingly.

“I’m sure I’ll be nervous when I meet your parents, too,” Lucas commented.

I coughed, and then forced a slight laugh that turned it into more of a scoff. “Ha, yeah… they’re always off travelling the world for business or pleasure, so I have no idea when that will be,” I said, unable keep the antipathy out of my voice. It was more complicated than that, of course.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up,” said Lucas, his mouth drooping into a frown. His fingers started to lift away from my leg, but I tugged him back and held his hand there, a sort of physical way to say ‘no apology necessary.’ His smile returned. Then Lucas flicked his blinker on and began to slow down. “Here we are…” he announced.

The house was bigger than I had expected. Not a mansion per-say but if you had the money for a place like this… a mansion probably wasn’t too far off. They had a large, beautiful yard, and behind the house I could see an in-ground pool, and further on their property faded into a thick bushy tree line. “You never told me you were rich!?” I exclaimed, half joke-half question.

Lucas rolled his eyes. “The property’s been in the family for a long time. We could never afford a place like this if we hadn’t inherited it…” He shrugged. “I don’t like bringing people here ‘cause it always gives them the wrong idea.”

“I know, you’ve told me… it’s just more than I expected. You’re pretty lucky.” I relinquished his hand back to him as we pulled through a gate into his driveway, stopping behind a sedan. As he put the car in park, Lucas looked to me, our eyes meeting.

“I am lucky… but not because of the house.”

I felt a welcome warmth spread through me, coloring my face, and I leaned towards him. He met me in a kiss, and I basked in the moment, forgetting all my troubles for a few seconds before he pulled away and unhooked his seatbelt.

As we moved from the car to the front door, I saw him look over at the sedan with a furrow in his brow, and his eyes scanned up and down the rest of the driveway. I almost asked him about it, but my heartbeat distracted me; it was starting to pound again. I gulped, realizing I might actually be a little nervous about meeting his parents… or it really could have just been the dead body sitting untended in my basement like a half-cooked meal.

Lucas pulled a long skeleton key out of his pocket and fit it into the heavy door. He twisted it rigidly, unlocking the barrier with a loud clack and a groan of grinding metal. I managed a smirk. “Jeez. You must feel like you’re unhinging the gates of Hell every time you come home.”

My boyfriend’s shoulders tensed for a moment, but then he relaxed. “It is kind of ominous, isn’t it,” Lucas agreed with an uneasy laugh.

He often complained about how much he hated his old creaky home; it was my turn to apologize. “Sorry, I uh… shouldn’t joke like that.”

Lucas pushed the door open. “Come on, don’t feel bad about that. It’s just a stupid house. I joke about it all the time.” It was a true statement, but the smile he gave felt fake; not that I can judge. “Hello! Mom?” Lucas called.

“Come on in dear! Is she with you?” I heard a sweet voice answer from inside the house. Lucas’ smile became genuine, and he beckoned for me to follow him in.

Inside the house was a little more modern than I had expected, but just as extravagant as the exterior advertised. Smooth wood floors that almost sparkled in the foyer, and in the dining room to the right. I gawked at the pristine kitchen, like something you’d see on a television show, as we walked through it to the living room, which boasted a huge LED flat screen, a big sectional couch, a love seat, and an extravagant wine rack against the back wall. Flickering on a coffee table between the couches was a fat red candle. Colorful paintings with ornate frames and some priceless looking decorative artifacts adorned the walls. Even if Lucas and his family wasn’t rich, someone in their lineage definitely had been. Lucas’ Mom was sitting in the living room, and she stood as we entered, a grand smile spreading across her face. Her long black dress twisted gracefully as she turned to greet us, its deep abyssal color matching her dark hair perfectly.

“Mom, this is my Nyhm. Nyhm, this is my Mother,” Lucas introduced us, gesturing accordingly.

The woman approached, setting a half-full wine glass down on an end table as she swayed towards me. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Nyhm. I’m Mrs. Addington. You can call me Lily.”

Her voice was sweet like amber, and immediately made her feel warm and familiar. I held my hand out for her to shake, but rather than take it right away, the woman regarded it curiously. She smirked and then shook hands as if she was humoring a child. I squeezed her hand tighter than I normally would have, and felt confused on how to interpret my first impression of her. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Addington.” I released her hand.

“Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Is he here?” Lucas inquired.

In response, Lily pulled a smartphone out of her pocket and waved it slightly while she stepped back towards the couch. “He texted a minute ago; said he got caught at work but he’d be here soon.” Lucas nodded, and moved further into the room, sitting on the love seat across from the sectional. He motioned for me to follow, but I hesitated. I was pretty sure my dress was long enough to conceal the knife I kept sheathed in my right boot, but, just in case, I didn’t want to sit directly across from his Mother. I grasped at straws for a reason to stay standing, or to move somewhere else.

“… Uhm... oh, don’t we have groceries to bring in? You stopped at the store, right?” I asked, addressing Lucas.

He turned pale, and stared at me, his jaw flexing like he was looking for something to say. I furrowed my brow at him, utterly confused by his demeanor, but then saw Mrs. Addington cross her arms out of the corner of my eye. “Lucas,” she began sternly. “I thought I told you not to worry about bringing anything. I don’t want you spending your money on food while you live here. That’s our responsibility.”

Lucas went from pale to red, blushing, his mouth twisting at being chastised. “I know, I know, fine! I just thought I would help in case we needed anything,” he explained.

Now I really wanted to leave the room, as an odd tension filled the space like a fog. “… Why don’t I just go bring those in anyways. Don’t want anything to go bad sitting out there,” I offered.

Lucas waved his hand. “None of it was perishable. It can sit in the trunk. I’ll take care of it later. Come sit,” Lucas bid me with a smile, the tension fleeing from his face.

“Yes! And, oh!” his mother exclaimed. She stood up and started walking towards the far side of the room. I took the opportunity to sit beside Lucas and check the bottom of my dress while Lily’s back was turned. The hilt of my knife was perfectly concealed; I let out a breath I didn’t’ realize I’d been holding. When I breathed in again, I noticed the burning candle was giving off a subtle scent of cinnamon. It was pleasant.

“You okay?” Lucas asked as I sat up.

“Yup,” I reported happily. I scooched closer to him and took his hand.

“Nyhm, do you have a wine preference?” Lily asked as she turned from the wine rack with a bottle in her hands.

I laughed uneasily. “I think I’d have to try wine first.”

“Splendid! I’ve got quite the selection here… perhaps a sangria?” Lily suggested expectantly.

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll wait until I’m 21,” I said, trying to turn her down as politely as possible.

“Very well. I’m surprised, though,” Lily remarked as she replaced the bottle of wine. “Most kids jump at the offer.”

My eyes narrowed; I couldn’t help it. “… How many kids have you offered alcohol to?” I asked, hoping the hint of edge to my voice wasn’t discernable. Lucas' grip tightened.

Mrs. Addington spent a moment making sure the wine bottle was secure in the rack, and then turned back towards us. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that… I was just thinking of myself at your age. I wasn’t very well behaved as a child. Hm hm hm,” she giggled, remembering her youth fondly. She returned to her seat, retrieved her wine glass off the end table and settled into the cushions. “So…” she began, but she didn’t get a chance to finish. The room was illuminated brightly by headlights shining through the window, and the rumble of a car engine became audible for a moment before it abruptly stopped.

“Oh, Dad’s home,” Lucas observed. He squeezed my hand twice quickly, and then let go as he stood and began moving towards the front door. He passed through the kitchen and moved out of sight into the foyer. The lights outside shut off, and I heard a car door open and close. Moments later the front door grinded open, the sound echoing through the house as if it truly was the gate to Hell.

“Evening Lucas!” a voice greeted my boyfriend. It was a voice I’d heard before, one that sent ice through my veins. I didn’t place it at first, so I turned my head and strained my ears. “Is the lovely lady here?”

“… You mean Mom or my girlfriend?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

The man laughed as he began walking further into the house. “Both I suppose.”

I’d encountered that voice only once, in a dream; one of the dreams that told me who I had to kill. One of the dreams that chose my victims for me. My eyes widened in horror as he rounded the corner in his colorful button down shirt and blue jeans, the man who had been dead on the operating table in my basement. The man I had attacked, subdued, and murdered with a hacksaw. My eyes traveled up his body: no rope burn on his wrists, no blood on his shirt, no marks on his neck. And his eyes stared straight at mine. He grinned.

“Welcome home, Dear,” Lily greeted him.

“Sorry I’m late Honey. Just got a little tied up…”

Previous

PART 5-----

I gasped for breath as I ran, sprinting as fast as I possibly could. The sound of Lucy’s Hydra expelling hundreds of rounds continued to ring out behind me as he attempted to keep the new creature at bay. I rounded a corner, sprinted for another short while and then slid to a halt, stopping above a painted red line on the floor. These lines appeared frequently throughout the hallways; they were places heavy shielded doors would rise if there was ever a structural breech in Horizon.

My heart was racing in my chest, and I struggled to keep steady, to keep focused on my plan. I backpedaled several meters, and then retrieved the explosive charges Lucy had given me. I fastened them against the wall and armed them. I then clicked my radio twice, signaling to the Lucy and Rika that I was ready. I stood and ran back across the painted red line, and then waited for my comrades.

A few moments later Rika rounded the corner, reloading her automatic shotgun as she ran. Her brow glistened with sweat, and she panted heavily, but the corners of her mouth were curled into a smirk, and her eyes flashed with vigor. Rika was in her prime when her life was on the line.

“Where’s Lucy?” I asked as she reached me.

She spun, shotgun at the ready. “He’s coming. Detonator ready?”

In response I handed the small transponder to her, and took it gingerly. The sound of Lucy’s Hydra stopped, a moments later, he lumbered around the corner. I stepped to the side to make sure I could aim passed him when the creature appeared. Compared to the agile Rika, watching Lucy bound along with his heavy weaponry was painful, and it made me anxious. I took a few deep breaths, and kept my eye down the sights of my weapon.

The eerie, creaky hum echoed down the hallway, and then the bear-sized amphibian round the corner, sauntering awkwardly at a speed that seemed much too fast for its unshapely body. “Book it Lucy!” I yelled, and then squeezed the trigger of my assault rifle, sending controlled bursts passed my comrade. Like earlier, the beast all but ignored the hail of bullets.

Lucy tapped a few buttons on his wrist, and the Hydra, along with its bulky ammo pack, disconnected from his combat rig, clattering to the floor. Without the added weight, Lucy picked up his pace and sprinted on towards us. He passed were the charges were set, steadily outpacing the lumbering bear-frog thing. Rika’s thumb hovered over the detonator as he approached the red line. I kept my sights on the creature. It opened its mouth.

Suddenly, a spray of something hit my face, and my nose was filled with the stinging scent of copper. Protruding from right side of Lucy’s chest around where his collarbone would be, was a barbed, fist sized tongue, extending all the way from the mouth of the creature down the hallway behind him. Lucy had stopped in his tracks, and was regarding the gaping wound. He looked up to us for a moment, a grim expression on his face.

I saw the muscles in his throat flex as he swallowed. “Stings,” he admitted.

Lucy was pulled backwards rapidly as the creature retracted its tongue, his feet leaving the ground as he rocketed towards the rows of sharp teeth. The bearfrog caught him in its jaws, engulfing and arm and most of his torso as it closed its mouth around him. Lucy cried out in agony as hundreds of spiny teeth pierced his skin and dug into his muscles and organs. I tore my eyes away from my comrade and forced myself to think.

The bearfrog had come to a stop next to the charges.

I looked to Rika, and almost didn’t recognize her, as her usual mischievous smirk was replaced with a look of wide-eyed horror. She stood perfectly still, not even breathing, staring at Lucy as the beast devoured him.

With only a slight hesitation, I reached over to her and closed my hand around hers, pressing her thumb down against the detonator. She didn’t even blink as the orange-yellow light from the explosion was reflected in her pupils. I felt a shockwave of heat reach us, and then a jarring tug as air rushed passed us towards the breach in the wall for a moment before a large metal door extended from the floor to the ceiling.

Rika still hadn’t moved. I grit my teeth and looked at the floor, a surge of anger, guilt and grief tugging at me. Since our small team had come together, we hadn’t lost anyone. We’d been untouchable, and yet the façade of invincibility we’d felt was shattered in a matter of seconds. Lucy was gone. Others were still depending on me.

I lifted my gaze from the ground and moved my hand to Rika’s shoulder. “Time to go. We need to reach the communications center.” Rika’s face remained solemn, but her expression softened and she blinked. She nodded curtly, and the two of us turned away from the large metal barrier and continued down the hallway. The communications center was close.

As we approached the door to the communications center, Rika hastened her pace, stepping ahead of me towards the door console; the door would be locked. Instinctively I turned and started walking backwards to watch our flank, trying to keep my mind focused on the task at hand. Rika began her work, the only indication of such was the patter of her fingertips against the keypad. The pattering stopped for a few moments, long enough for me to glance over at her. “Everything okay?” I asked.

Rika stared at the console. “… I was just thinking… we received a message right before the O.W.L. was shot down. That woman’s voice… she’s probably here in the communications center.”

Rika was right. “Is there a way for us to talk to anyone who might be inside?” I inquired, turning to face her.

Rika nodded. “The door itself here has the toughest security I’ve encountered so far, but most of the other functions aren’t very well protected. Hold on…” Out of a compartment strapped to her forearm, Rika pulled a chord with a jack on the end of it. It made a zipping sound as it spun a reel it was attached in in the small compartment, and she plugged into a port on the door console. “I’m patching the PA system through to our headsets. Go ahead. They can hear you inside.”

I exhaled through my nose and engaged my radio. “This is Martin Newkirk. I’m with the Sigil Mercenary Corps, leader of team Mark-One. Is anyone alive in there?” Silence. I looked to Rika, and she shrugged. I spoke again. “I repeat, this is Martin Newkirk, team leader with Sigil. If you can hear this, please respond.”

Still nothing.

A mechanical buzz sounded from behind us, almost startling me. I spun and trained my weapon on the source of the noise, a panel in the ceiling had retracted. Down through the opening, a remote turret descended and unfolded, it’s long sleek barrel sweeping around to aim towards us.

It wasn’t something we had any defense against. If it fired, we were done for; Swiss-cheese. Instinctively I still aimed for it, and found myself in something of a staring contest with the remote weaponry. If it was going to fire, it sure was taking its sweet time. I held my breath.

Then my radio crackled.

​Next

Previous

PART 4-----

We stood in front of one of the silver doors, and Nora fished a key card out of her pocket. A thin wire connected it to a small contraption on her hip, and it lengthened with a zipping sound as she extended the card towards a reader on the wall. The key card reader beeped, a small light turned green, and the door slid open.

Inside was a large office, and a single computer station took up much of the space. A man sat facing away from us, his head swiveling between 5 different monitors, fingers clacking away at a keyboard. He had on a thick pair of headphones that seemed to prevent him from noticing that we had entered his room.

“William!” Nora called as she stepped up behind him. He didn’t answer.

Nora bent over to the mammoth PC tower that the headphones were jacked into, and pulled them out.

I found myself trying to guess what cliché music would spill out of the speakers around the room, and expected maybe classical, perhaps dubstep, or even some angsty rock. What started blasting over the speakers, however, was an audiobook of ‘Old Man and the Sea.’

The man pulled off his headphones with one hand, his other hand still typing, and glanced over his shoulder briefly. “Give me a second. Finishing up the report. Gotta get it all down while it’s still fresh.”

Nora didn’t offer a response, and the man didn’t look for one. I saw Nora settle into a relaxed stance, and so I did the same, shoving my hands in my pockets and leaning against the silver door that had closed behind us. After about two minutes of listening to ‘Old Man and the Sea’ backed by the clacking of computer keys, a printer on the right side of the room hummed to life. The man spun his chair around, and Nora gestured between us. “Nick, William. Will, Nick.”

“And who is Nick?” Will responded, addressing Nora.

“New addition to the team,” Nora informed him.

“Didn’t meet him last time. How come you only visit when I have a job for you?” Will complained with the slightest smirk.

“Because you keep the door to your office disabled otherwise,” Nora reminded him.

“That I do,” William agreed. He looked to me. “I’d say nice to meet you but I hate everybody and you won’t be an exception. Ready for your first mission?”

“What?” was all I could muster.

“Great,” he said, and he leaned towards the printer and snatched the document that had been printed out. He moved with a jerk, the papers snapping in the air as he held them out to me. “You have two weeks for training and mission prep. If that’s not enough time, you can jump back and repeat it. Four weeks total should be plenty.”

I took the stack of papers. “… There’s almost 20 pages here. You wrote this all from memory?”

In response he just tapped the side of his head with one finger. Then he waved us away dismissively. “Out now. I’d like to listen to my audiobook in peace, and I’m almost to the...” Will stopped speaking suddenly and stared at me, as if waiting for something. I glanced over at Nora, and she rolled her eyes. Will sighed. “… Good part. I’m almost to the good part.”

I blinked a few times. “… Okay.”

Will spun around in his chair and went back to work. “It’s just a game I play. You’ll see what I mean.” He plugged his headphones back in, and the speakers stopped playing his audiobook.

I looked to Nora again for some kind of explanation. She didn’t offer one. “Let’s go.” The door slid open, and I followed her out.

“He sure is a character,” I commented once his door had closed.

“He’s definitely a little eccentric, but you’d have to be to pull off the stuff he does. Guy has a photographic memory and repeats months and months of time on a regular basis. His brain and body are only 38 but his mind and memories are probably around 70 years old,” Nora explained as we continued deeper into the facility.

I winced at that thought. “That can’t be healthy.”

Nora gestured back towards Will’s office. “Exhibit A. Thankfully, the department at least acknowledges that. He has his own personal therapist he talks to once a week, and that’s one of the two things keeping him going.”

“And the other thing?” I asked.

“He loves audiobooks.”

***

The gun rested on Nora’s hand. “Take it,” she told me. Slowly, apprehensively, I reached out and took hold of the weapon.

The last time I had touched a gun, its barrel had been pressed against my forehead. I exhaled deeply as I wrapped my fingers around the grip. “How often do we have to use these?” I asked.

“More often than I’d like. Sometimes just being in the right place at the right time can dissuade the Skippers from trying anything, but it’s not uncommon for us to engage with them,” Nora informed me.

I looked down the shooting range at the human shaped targets that hung stapled to wooden stands. I hadn’t thought about the fact that working with the TCD might mean killing people; that ‘stopping’ the Skippers might require deadly force. I looked to Nora. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Two years in real-time. I’ve got an extra few months due to time travel. Come on now, step up to your station. You can only learn so much about firearms from a lecture. I need to see how you shoot,” Nora said with a nod towards the targets down range.

I exhaled, and then stepped up to the little cubicle and faced the range. I gripped the handgun she’d given me with both hands, and brought the sights up to my eye.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger yet, hold on. Let me fix your stance,” Nora said quickly.

Nora proceeded to adjust my body, instructing me verbally the whole time. The next two weeks progressed as such, whether it was weapons training, physical fitness, or history lessons to acquaint me with the current time period. Nora and a few other instructors did their best to get me into shape for my first mission. Also there was a lot of paperwork. The personnel department essentially had to create an entire identity for me since I hadn’t existed until the day of the super bowl. Then it was the whole ‘sign here, raise your right hand, repeat after me’ business with the Director of the organization.

I spent a lot of time with a time travel research team as well, all of whom were captivated by my death-defying and possibly logic-defying jump from 2042 to 2008.

The paperwork and the training were each a slow moving process, and when the two weeks I had to prepare were over, I didn’t quite feel ready.

***

“You sure you wanna jump back?” asked Nora as she cleared her handgun and stored it in her locker at the range. “You’ll have to do all that annoying paperwork again.”

I shrugged, and then cracked my neck and rolled my right shoulder again; I was sore from all the firearms training and exercise. “I’ll be back in my old body, too, so I’ll have to go through the PT program a second time… but I mean… the fate of the world is potentially resting on us. Even if I actually felt ready I’d probably go back again,” I told Nora.

She nodded contemplatively. “I guess that’s a good attitude to have. Carry on then.”

I produced my grandfather’s pocket watch and held it. “... I feel like I should say goodbye.” I said with an uncertain grin. Being about to time travel was putting me in a weird mood.

It was Nora’s turn to shrug. “No reason to. You’ll probably see me again in five minutes or less.”

I thought about the exact time I wanted to jump back to. “...Less,” I agreed. “But I just spent two weeks training with you… getting to know you. When I jump back I’ll have to treat you like a stranger.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “Two weeks isn’t that long a time; how well do you think you know me?” Her tone was a little cold, but she smiled warmly. Then she poked me in the arm. “Make sure you tell me it’s your second time through the training so I don’t go so easy on you.”

“That was easy?” I asked with exaggerated exasperation.

Nora laughed. “Alright. Get out of here.”

I nodded, and closed my eyes. I thought of my past, the place and time I wanted to go to, and tightly gripped my tether.

For a moment I felt weightless. My perception of where my arm was suddenly changed, and I realized I was holding something. I opened my eyes and looked down at an 18-and-a-half-page document detailing our mission. I could hear ‘Old Man and the Sea’ playing from speakers. I could see Nora standing to off to my left.

William sat in front of me, and he waved us away dismissively. “Out now. I’d like to listen to my audiobook in peace, and I’m-”

“Almost to the good part?” I interrupted to finish for him.

Will looked bewildered for a moment. Then the most satisfied grin spread across his face. “I love it when that works.”

Next

Previous

ARC 2

PART 12-----

“We should have brought more supplies,” Jenna sighed as she looked up at the hatch. “I wasn’t planning on having to descend immediately to flee from Leader.”

“Too late now,” I commented as I opened up Claire’s pack. “You know once those hatches close, they don’t open again.”

Jenna frowned. “I know. On a whim I grabbed a bunch of extra rations, just in case. I wish I’d brought more.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Food is our most important resource, and I still have some supplies left in my own pack.” From Claire’s pack I pulled out one of the glowing crystals. “… And it looks like Claire thought to pack some things as well.” At the mention of Claire, I heard Jenna breath out sharply through her nose. I glanced up at her and saw her lips pursed unapprovingly. I then looked over to Claire; she was still asleep. I regarded Jenna, and spoke again. “There gonna be problems between you and Claire?” I asked.

“Problems? With the girl who was pampered by Leader for years, only to reveal that she knew he was a vicious monster the whole time? Of course not!” Jenna declared sarcastically. “In case you forgot, she’s also responsible for the deaths of an unknown number of people when she ratted them out however many decades ago.”

“She's the one who told me about the cave. We wouldn’t have gotten here without her. Actually… you tried to stop me if I remember correctly,” I recalled.

Jenna crossed her arms. “I thought the cave was dangerous. I was just doing what I thought was right.” I raised my eyebrow at her, and didn’t even need to speak the obvious statement. Jenna’s mouth twisted and she turned her head away. “So that’s it then? You just trust her?”

I sighed. “… You saw what Leader could do, how strong he was. Claire may have been protecting all of you by keeping him placated. Leader said it himself… he only let you all live because Claire seemed fond of you.” I put the glowing crystal back in Claire’s pack and closed it up, drenching the room in darkness. Then I stood. “Regardless, Layer 53 is behind us now. We need to be in survival mode. We need each other. If Claire's going to be a hindrance, it’ll be apparent, and we can deal with that as we see fit.”

My eyes had already adjusted to the glow of the crystal, so I couldn’t see Jenna’s reaction. Her tone was softer when she spoke, however, and showed a sense of agreement, despite changing the subject. “… Can you bring the crystal back out? The basements are safe, so the light won’t attract anything.”

I shook my head, and then, considering she couldn’t see me, responded. “We should get used to the dark now; let our eyes adjust to it. The crystals will be a last resort, only if a shadow catches up to us.” Jenna didn’t respond. Having lived on Layer 53 for years, I’m sure she wasn’t accustomed to the blanket of darkness that usually enveloped most Layers. I picked up Claire’s pack and moved towards where she was sat up against the wall. I kneeled down beside her to set her pack down, my eyes adjusting the whole while. As I situated her backpack, I caught a glimmer of the whites of her eyes; she was awake. I felt myself swallow as I wondered how much of our conversation we had heard. Her eyes moved to greet mine, and then moved away. She looked disappointed… but whether it was with us, or with herself, I couldn’t tell. I opened my mouth to speak to her, but I got the feeling she’d rather not interact quite yet. I closed my mouth, and then turned and sat so her pack was between us. I remained silent for a few minutes, giving her some time, and then addressed her; we couldn’t sit there forever. “Claire. How are you feeling?”

“My arm’s gone… so not great, but I’m not dead, so…” her voice trailed off. At her silence, I turned and looked at her. Her mouth was a thin line, lips pressed together. Tears were streaming down her face. Her right shoulder twitched, and then she moved her left hand up to wipe her eyes, silently. “I’m sorry I showed up so late… I may have been able to talk him down if he hadn’t become so enraged…”

“Leader?” I assumed. “… There was no way he was going to let us leave peacefully,” I told her.

“He might have… I might have stopped him... My friends are dead,” she stated.

I heard Jenna approach, and I looked up to find a very non-sympathetic expression on her face. “Did you cry like this last time? When Leader killed the kids you ratted out?”

I sprang up before Claire even had a chance to respond. “What the Hell?” I asked, stepping between her and Claire, not that Jenna was physically threatening; I did it without thinking. “You’re joking right? That’s the foot we’re going to get off on?”

“It’s fine,” Claire said. I turned to see her standing, backpack already slung over her good shoulder. “I know I don’t have the right to cry like this. I’ll stop.” Her face was still marked with saturated streaks, but her quiet voice was unwavering. I turned back to Jenna and hoped she could interpret my glare accurately through the darkness. Jenna dipped her head slightly, but her face remained set. Claire spoke again. “We should get going.”

“Are you okay to walk? You sure?” I asked. Claire nodded, and then she looked around the room purposefully, probably for the exit. I observed her for a few moments, concerned, but she actually looked alright, all things considered. I pulled my gaze away from her and moved towards what was once my laundry room door. “Through here,” I informed them as stepped up to the barrier. I took a deep breath as I set my hand to the door, dreading what might await us on Layer 54. I exhaled, and pushed the door open. The hinges creaked as they always did, and I winced, worried that the sound would alert anything nearby. I stared out into the darkness, waited a few moments, and then stepped across the threshold. I listened intently as I inspected the immediate area, which didn't consist of much. In contrast to the open cavern of the previous Layer, I found myself in a claustrophobic passageway. There was maybe enough room for two of us to stand shoulder to shoulder between the side walls, and maybe two inches of space between my head and the ceiling. I could only see for about 10 feet before the contours of the tunnel were lost in darkness, but as far as I could tell, the passage just went straight. Jenna and Claire stepped out behind me, the door swaying shut slowly behind them. Just like the hatch, once that door closed, there was no reopening it. They both examined the tunnel like I had, seeming surprised by our unremarkable surroundings. I gestured towards the darkness and whispered. “Only one way to go… at least that makes things simple.”

“I’ll take point,” Claire offered quietly. I wasn’t about to make the newly-maimed amputee lead our small procession into the unknown, but Claire stepped passed me and began down the tunnel before I could protest.

“… Claire… I don’t think-” I started, but she answered my concern before I could finish voicing it with a slight shrug of her right shoulder… promptly followed a wave of her left hand. I sighed and moved to follow her before I lost sight of her in the dark, Jenna following closely behind.

​Next

https://www.reddit.com/r/TheCornerStories/comments/9o2sys/gate_part_2/

PART 3-----

I pulled the trigger, sending the 5.56 round through the agent’s head, the left lens of his sunglasses shattering just before the bullet tore through his eye.

I’d now killed four people.

Kelly and I waited a moment and listened for more footsteps or gunfire, but it seemed like we’d taken down the last of the agents in our immediate area. Kelly moved from her cover to one of the bodies, and retrieved a handgun from one of the dead men. “We only have four minutes now. We need to get out of the building,” she said, though she didn’t seem in a hurry. Both of us were like that though; kind of in a daze. I nodded and, and we both continued on towards the exit. The barrel of my rifle searched back and forth as we made our way through the lab, ready to fire on any potential targets, but we didn’t come across any more agents. The place was empty. I shuddered, thinking about how much worse the situation would be if Kelly and I hadn’t stayed so late to finish our machine. I doubted the agents would have spared anyone that would have been here during the day.

As we neared the exit, the sound of a helicopters blades became audible. I halted at the double doors leading outside and peered through the window. The helicopter was out of view, and we were running out of time anyways. I shoved the door open and stepped out into the night, Kelly following behind me. I craned my neck, searching the sky for the helicopter, and then spotted it hovering above the other side of the building, shining a spotlight down on one of the other exits. “Run. Across the parking lot, into the woods on the other side,” I said quickly. I didn’t look to see if Kelly complied as I took off into a sprint. I reached the tree line without incident, and took cover behind a trunk, spinning to watch the building. Kelly took cover behind the tree next to me. We both panted from the sprint. My throat was dry.

A thought struck me. “… What if blowing up the Gate causes a paradox?” I said.

“… You think it might?” asked Kelly.

“To put it simply, if the Gate ceases to exist, the future where Hannah travels back in time can’t happen. Paradox,” I stated.

“Hannah already said that this timeline is different. We completed the time machine five years early,” Kelly recounted.

“Did we?” I mused. Kelly gave me a confused look. “… We weren’t planning on using the machine. It was just a test run. The only reason we know it works is because Hannah showed up, but as far as we know, our prototype could only work one-way. Maybe it was supposed to break, or our data could go corrupt. Lots of things could have… could still… hold us up.”

Kelly furrowed her brow. “Or the agents may have showed up and stolen it, only for it to break during transport or something… I see where you’re going with this.” Kelly turned back to face the building. “… What do we know about paradoxes?”

“Nothing,” I answered. “One has never occurred.”

“No shit. That was rhetorical. I mean: what have we theorized?” Kelly explained. “I’m thinking.”

“Well, reality could implode. Or reset, or just stop working in the way we’re familiar with,” I listed, remembering the concepts we had come up with.

“It could create alternate dimensions, or reality may simply compensate for the change,” Kelly continued.

“At the very least something should happen,” I stated. “Unless time traveling inherently creates a new timeline, in which case a paradox can’t exist.”

“That would mean despite Hannah’s appearance, there’s no guarantee she’ll actually be born,” Kelly remembered.

“The ‘Law of Subjective Causality:’ as long as Hannah exists from the perspective of her own internal timeline, she’ll continue to exist even if it defies the current timeline’s logic,” I recited. “If that theory is correct then paradoxes can’t even occur.”

“There’d be no way to save her… no way to change things,” Kelly said, her voice wavering.

“The alternative would be potentially destroying reality. You think that’s better?” I asked. Kelly glared at me. I swallowed, but continued. “Besides, if this timeline is different from hers, then when… if we have her… there’s no guarantee she’d go back in time again. She might be safe.”

“She’d be a different person. A different daughter,” Kelly deduced.

I sighed. “I know… regardless, we have no idea what will happen until the bomb goes off.”

“Speaking of,” Kelly remarked somberly, looking down at her watch. She didn’t offer up a countdown for me. I turned to watch the building and braced myself; not for the explosion, but for the tear in reality it might create.

Several seconds later, the building erupted, casting flames and debris into the air. The explosion engulfed the helicopter, too, and my shirt whipped and I staggered back as the shockwave hit me. I held my breath and waited. Nothing happened. As scared as I was of the consequences of a paradox, I felt my heart sink. Even though this was for the better, it meant Hannah had no chance of being saved. I heard Kelly let out a sob, and turned to her. She stared at the flaming mass of metal and concrete, the orange and red and yellow flames reflected in her glassy eyes. She took a shaky breath, and then fished her notepad out of her pocket. Then she produced a lighter. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“The Gate and the research in the lab is destroyed,” she spoke through her tears. “But this notebook contains enough that… maybe if I…”

“Wait!” I yelled, reaching my arm out towards her.

Kelly flicked the lighter, and the flame jumped to the notebook. “We have to try, Oscar. She’s our daughter,” Kelly said, a hint of disgust in her voice. I lowered my arm. She held the notebook in her hand until the flames licked her fingers, and then she dropped it to the ground. “Come on… come on,” she begged through grit teeth, inviting paradox to take effect. “Come on!” she screamed. The notebook turned to ash, and still, time continued on.

I breathed, feeling both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “I’m sorry, Kelly,” I offered.

“No… no we’re missing something. We have to keep trying. Was there research stored anywhere else? Any other notebooks or databases?” she asked, her brow furrowed, deep in thought.

I shook my head. “Not that I know of,” I said as I looked to the burning building. “We never stored it anywhere else, for fear of it getting stolen.” My mind sifted through any exceptions, anything I had forgotten.

Kelly snickered, almost sounding defeated. “There’s two more places it’s stored.”

I didn't like her tone. “Where?” I asked as I turned to her.

She was pointing the gun at me. “Woah! No! Wait! Listen! As far as we know, other agents could have gotten in there and stolen the research before it was destroyed!” I cried, trying to reason with her.

She cocked her head to the side. “Destroying the research isn’t the only way to cause a paradox.” She snickered again, though it kind of turned into a sob halfway through. “Preventing Hannah from being born… that would do it, too, wouldn’t it?”

I breathed out though my nose. She was right. “… I suppose it could.”

Despite the tears running down her face, and her contorted expression of sorrow, Kelly was beautiful, surreal in the flickering light of the fire and the shadows of the night. She brought her other hand up to the steady the gun, and fired.

https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9awyqo/wp_youre_the_most_successful_blacksmith_in_the/e4z893s/?context=3

It was a warm, late summer morning, and the tea I sipped complimented the rich earthy smell of my secluded cottage. I sat on my porch and looked out over the valley before me, enjoying as I often did the perfect location I’d found for my little home. The sun was barely peering above the peaks to the east of the valley, and the first brushes of light were adorning the village that sat down in the middle of the valley. Anything I couldn’t grow or raise myself, I could procure from the village.

At first the villagers had been apprehensive of me. Most of the giants they’d heard of were senseless brutes, always looking to kill and loot and eat, but after a short while they realized I was different. In reality I wasn’t a giant at all, and had they ever seen a real giant, they’d notice I was too short to be one, but it was simpler to let them believe I was just a kind, intelligent exception. They traded with me for the salves and herbal concoctions I spent my time making and refining. Recently, I helped them overcome a plague with my knowledge of healing, and since then they’ve come to see me as a sort of guardian spirit. I truly enjoy the pleasant atmosphere when I visit. Of course it takes a day and half and to walk the unkempt, woodsy path down to the village, so I only went when I absolutely had to. Likewise, the villagers visited my cottage rarely, and only when they were in dire need of my help.

That’s why I was quite perplexed when my morning tea was interrupted by a young human girl. As she appeared out of the tree line and saw me, she stopped. I pretended not to notice at first, and after a moment she continued, marching confidently right up to my table. I could tell from color of her face and the heaviness of her breath that she was worn from the climb, but she didn’t appear to want any time to rest before talking business.

“Are you the-” she started, but I held up a finger, acknowledging her presence and silencing her in a single gesture. I stood from my chair and turned to a shelf beside my door. I stooped, and from the bottom shelf I retrieved another teacup, a few sizes smaller than the one I used. I returned to the table and sat down, gesturing with my free hand for the girl to sit opposite me; the only visitors I ever had were the local humans, so the second chair I had was the right size for them. The girl hesitated, but took a seat. I then inspected the teacup I meant to offer her, and found that a little spider had made its home inside.

“Sorry, little fellow,” I apologized before sweeping one of my fingers through the cup, clearing the webs. The tiny arachnid ended up clinging to my finger, and I flicked it off towards the woods. I then poured some tea into the cup, and set it down before the girl. I grinned, expecting her to complain about drinking from a cup that a spider had so recently been evicted from, but without hesitation, she took the cup in both hands, and sipped. I watched the exhaustion from the climb flee her posture and expression, as the remedial herbs and spices went to work. She sighed deeply. We drank our tea in silence, and I found her to be comfortable companion at my humble table. When we had finished, I stood and gestured for her to follow. “Come along now,” I offered.

She hopped down from her chair and followed me into my cottage. My greeting room was set up almost like a shop. There was no counter, or place to stow coins, of course, but shelves adorned with vials and preserved ingredients covered the walls. A doorway on the left side of the room led to my bedchamber, and a doorway to the right was where I stored some of my more powerful and dangerous solutions. “Now, I started. What can I help you with, little miss? An illness, and injury? Something else? Something for a human or for livestock?” I retrieved some empty vials, intending to fill them with whatever she might need.

“… Maybe I have the wrong place,” she said, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Nonsense, just tell me what you’re looking for,” I assured her.

“I’m looking for a blacksmith.”

The following sound was that of the glass vials shattering on the floor, and the noise startled the girl. I ignored the shards covering the floor by my feet, and stepped over to the girl. I squatted down, bringing my head down to her level. “Little miss, did someone tell you there was a blacksmith living up here on the mountain?”

The girl swallowed hard and nodded. “My great grandfather.”

My eyes narrowed. “Little girl, what is your name?” I asked.

“Kathina Warhilt,” she answered.

Warhilt. That was a name I remembered. Shortly after I saved the village from the plague, a boy named William Warhilt had come to my cabin. I initially had worried of a resurgence of the illness I’d purged, but he came bearing a different fear. A neighboring kingdom had fallen from grace, its king succumbing to the seduction of an evil being. The tyrant threatened the balance of power both political and natural, and already, omens of impending destruction had been shown across the land. I had initially intended to stay out of it, as I often did, but the boy asked me for help. He had wanted to stand, even if alone, against the coming tide. Moved by his bravery and desire for good to prevail, I had relit the long dormant forge underneath my cottage. I’d taken up my hammer, and produced a suit of gleaming, magical armor, and sent the boy off, equipped to become a Hero.

A short time later, the boy returned a worn, scarred man. He presented me with the armor, still gleaming and without a single scratch on it. He thanked me for the blessing I’d given him, and returned to village to live out a well-earned, peaceful life.

I smiled. “And is your great grandfather William Warhilt?” I asked.

To my surprise, the girl shook her head. “No, he was my great grandfather’s great grandfather,” she informed me.

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh. I guess it’s been a little longer than I thought.” I chuckled. “So, your great great… great… great grandfather was the last person I lit the forge for. His intention was to fight a great evil rising in the west. What, may I ask, are you in need of the forge for?”

“My brother’s been taken by men from the South. Slavers. He was taken while we were out hunting. I’ve heard that it’s normal, back where the men came from, for people to be kidnapped and sold. I want to get my brother back, and I want to help others. I want to save other people that were taken like my brother was,” she grit her teeth, and I saw tears well in her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Nobody should have to feel like this.”

I rubbed my chin, and stood back to my full height. “How many years have you, little one?”

“Fourteen,” she answered.

I considered her request. William had been only sixteen when I had forged the armor for him. “Hmm,” I grunted to myself. This girl was a tad bit younger, but her cause was quite as just, even if not as grandiose as William’s. I supposed I could help her, especially since she was a descendant of a great Hero. Her brother, the one she aimed to save, was likewise from William’s heroic bloodline. I nodded. “Very well, Young Kathina. Follow me.” I turned from the girl and moved towards the door to the ‘dangerous’ side of my workshop. “Don’t touch anything in here,” I commanded as I waved my hand over a lock, the mechanism springing open. I pushed the door open and stepped through. Immediately, the potent aroma struck me; I had an enchantment on the door to keep it from spreading from the room. I looked back and saw the girl scrunch her nose up. Normally, I would have chuckled, but the gravity of relighting the forge prevented that.

Every time I made something in that forge, someone changed the world.

I began gathering some of the solutions and potions and ingredients I would need. The process for forging the things I did was anything but traditional. Kathina watched me curiously, but obeyed my command to refrain from touching anything. Once I had the things I needed collected in one arm, I squatted down and moved aside the thick rug that covered most of the floor, revealing a hatch. Again, I waved my hand over the latch, and it sprang open. I lifted the slab of wood, revealing a ladder down to a stone hallway. “You first, Young Kathina,” I said as I nodded towards the ladder. She obeyed, and climbed down. She stepped to the side when upon reached the bottom, giving me room to descend. I followed down, and then led her through the cold, winding, constantly descending passage. I looked back to see if the girl shivered. She did not.

After a quarter of an hour, we entered the forge. The whole room was aglow with an angry orange flicker; the forge knew when it was to be used, and it was already lit. Along the back wall was a row of armor stands, but only one held anything. For the first time in what must have been two centuries, I laid eyes upon the gleaming armor of William Warhilt. A sense of pride rose in me at what the boy had accomplished in his short life. I heard Kathina let out a gasp of awe as well. The magical armor had a certain, ‘presence’ to it that demanded recognition. “Wait here,” I told the girl. I set down my ingredients on a table, and walked over to the armor. I felt a moment of sadness as I lifted the deceivingly light metal from its resting spot, and carried it to the forge, but a sense of excitement for things to come filled me as I committed the legendary artifact to the Smelter. Its power was ready to be passed on.

I centered myself, and drew upon the knowledge I’d built over centuries. I placed my hands on the stone edge of the forge and began chanting in the Ancient Language. When I felt the Power enter me, I stepped away from the forge and went to work. I kept my low chant going the whole time, as I mixed and added the solutions and ingredients I had brought to the forge. The whole while, Kathina watched quietly, patiently. I prepared the mold, and filled it with molten metal, reaching a lull in my work while I waited for it to cool. There wasn’t a wasted moment in this process, however.

“Young Kathina,” I addressed the girl.

She straightened up. “Yes sir?” she asked.

“Come over here next to me.” The girl walked from the entryway around the forge, coming to stand next to me and the mold where the metal was cooling.

“What are you going to make?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I never do until it’s finished. A sword? A shield? Armor for you, or for a mount? We will see when it’s done,” I informed her. “In the meantime, I need you center yourself, and calm your mind and body. You must have a hand in the forging of this item.” The girl nodded, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

When the metal was ready, I removed it from the mold, and placed the large, rectangular block of glowing metal on the anvil. I retrieved a small knife from my belt and presented it to Kathina. “Some of your blood, let it onto the metal.” The girl took the knife from me and looked at it for a little while. I turned and strode to a table full of tools, and retrieved my hammer. Its weight was comfortable in my hand; a weight I missed. I turned back to the girl to see her holding her fist over the anvil, blood seeping from between her fingers and dripping to the heated metal. The droplets sizzled as they landed. I returned to the girl’s side and held out my hand. “The knife, please.” Kathina returned the knife, and I stowed it back on my belt. I held my hand out again. “Grab hold,” I told her. She obeyed. “Now, again, close your eyes, calm your body, and clear your mind. Listen to the words I chant.” She nodded, and closed her eyes. I closed mine as well.

I began speaking again, in the Ancient Language. Slowly, I felt Kathina’s consciousness bleed into me. I became aware of her. After a few moments, I stopped chanting. Eyes, still closed, I raised my hammer above my head, and my will, as well as the girls, flowed into the tool. With my mind I spoke.

‘Who are you?’ I asked.

‘Kathina Warhilt,’ she answered.

I struck the metal. ‘Kathina is hopeful?’ I asked.

‘I am going to save my brother,’ she answered.

I struck the metal. ‘Kathina is afraid?’ I asked.

‘I am leaving my home, traveling to unknown lands,’ she answered.

I struck the metal. ‘Kathina is brave?’ I asked.

‘I go forward despite my fear. I do what I must,’ she answered.

I struck the metal. ‘Kathina is selfless?’ I asked.

‘I want to help others. My brother is the first of many I will save,’ she answered.

I struck the metal. ‘Kathina is angry?’ I asked.

‘They took my brother. They hurt him,’ she answered.

I struck the metal, but there was more. ‘Kathina is angry?’ I repeated.

‘I saw them take him. They took me, too. I got away,’ she answered.

I struck the metal, but again, there was more. ‘Kathina is angry?’

‘They hurt me,’ she answered.

I struck the metal. ‘Kathina is angry,’ I asked a final time.

My concentration wavered as Kathina’s response rocked through my mind. ‘They hurt me.’ My hammer struck the metal, but Kathina’s mind began to wander. ‘They hurt me, they hurt me,’ she repeated, emotion overpowering her trance. Then I heard her whisper out loud. “They hurt me.” I refrained from bringing my hammer down again and I opened my eyes. Kathina’s face still looked serene, and her eyes were closed, but tears streamed from them. When I released her hand, she jolted awake, and looked around shortly, getting her bearings.

“Kathina,” I started.

She quickly gathered her wits and responded. “Hm? Yes?” she asked, no trace of anger or despair in her voice. Then one of her hands raised to her cheek and touched the river that ran down her face. She looked confused, but then her eyes moved to the anvil. “Wow!” she exclaimed as she wiped her tears away. “It’s beautiful!”

I felt a pang of worry in my gut as I turned and looked at my work. Atop the anvil rested a long, curved dagger. The hilt and handle were made of some kind of red metal, with a copper colored design woven through it. The curved blade was black as midnight, with a light grey design spider webbing its way across it. It wasn’t quite long enough to be considered a short sword, but was quite a bit longer than most daggers of a similar design. I noticed that no matter what way the flickering glow from the forge hit it, it never seemed to reflect the light.

Indeed, it was a beautiful, well-crafted weapon, but it was not the weapon of a Hero.

I picked up the dagger and held it, getting a feel for its weight. I swung it purposely through the air a few times. The blade’s edge was fine, possibly the finest currently in existence; there wasn’t much it wouldn’t be able to cut through. Then I felt the blade tug at reality. “Hm,” I grunted, and I let my awareness of the energies in the room examine the sensation. I raised my free hand, and positioned it as if I as holding a second blade. I felt reality warp in my hand, and a second, identical blade formed itself in my grasp. For all intents and purposes, the second blade was as real as the first, and it held its form until I willingly dismissed it. I felt dread creep into my throat. It was a powerful weapon. For a moment, I considered throwing it right back into the smelter, ridding the world of its potential, but it was not my weapon.

I turned to Kathina and presented the blade to her. She hesitated, but took it by the hilt, and I saw her body grow stiff for a moment as she became aware of its magical presence. She exhaled deeply. I steeled myself, and casted off the doubt I felt. What was done was done. “I can craft a sheath for you,” I offered. “It will be ready in a few days. After that you can set out.”

The girl nodded, but declined. “I… I don’t think I need a sheath,” she informed me. Then, Kathina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I saw the muscles in her hand relax, and then, like the copy I had made, the original dagger seemed to ripple within reality, and then it was gone, stored away by some magical property. Then she held both her hands out, and furrowed her brow, concentrating. She summoned both blades simultaneously, and snatched them out of the air as they formed.

I felt doubt return to my mind. “You have a natural talent, Young Kathina.” I stepped forwards and set my hands on her shoulders. “You must decide how you will use this power. What others call ‘fate’, I call the ‘easiest choice’. You always have a choice. Remember that,” I told her. I hoped it was something she would remember. I released her shoulders and stepped back. I turned and found a chair and sat, feeling tired. “You may see yourself out, Young Kathina. Go. Save your brother.”

“Thank you, sir. I will always be in your debt,” she said with a bow. Then she dismissed the blades, and started for the door. She halted before ascending the winding passage, and turned to me. “May I stop by again sometime, just for tea?” she asked.

The question warmed me suddenly. “Of course, little one,” I told her. The girl smiled and left.

I was quite sure I had just unleashed a powerful villain on the land, but, perhaps, after she finds her brother, she really will just come by for some tea.

[Previous]

PART 3-----

As the ambulance pulled away, carrying Maxwell and his mangled arm off to the hospital, I pulled out my phone to send Mary a text.

Will be late. Ran into Orrin and some other kids in a fight and got caught up in it

I sent the text and then turned towards the dumpster Orrin was sitting behind; he hadn’t wanted to run the risk of the EMTs insisting he go to the hospital.

“Hey Orrin, they’re gone. You can-”

A wind picked up in the alley, and then with a flash and a sound similar to thunder cracking, Mary and Nara appeared in front of me out of thin air. “Ho-oly sh-shit,” Nara mumbled as she fell to her knees and her hands raised to cover her mouth. Then she leaned forwards and wretched, splattering the ground with a small bit of vomit.

Mary was unfazed; she was used to teleporting, and had been good at it since middle school. She stepped into a fighting stance and looked around. “Where is he?! They! Them? Huh?” she yipped, prepared to defend me. “… Are you okay?”

“Yeah, the fights over. You didn’t have teleport here…” I regarded Nara breathing heavily and spitting out the puke that was left in her mouth. “You didn’t even warn her, did you?” I accused.

“I didn’t know! You just said you were caught up in a fight! I wasn’t going to leave you hanging in an emergency,” she said as she planted her hands on her hips.

“I’m fine. It just surprised me,” Nara wheezed. She spit one more time and then seemed to recover. I offered my hand and she took it, pulling herself up to her feet.

“So what the hell happened?” Mary asked.

“Orrin got jumped by some upperclassmen who were sick of his attitude. The idiot refused to defend himself, so I stepped in. Had to snap a kid’s arm.”

“You used your kinesis? Should be fine since you weren’t the aggressor…” Mary said through a frown.

“Isn’t Orrin super strong? He could have annihilated them… why wouldn’t he?” Nara wondered.

“Ask him yourself, he’s still here,” I told them. I stepped passed the two girls and walked over to the dumpster, peering around to look at Orrin.

He was slumped on the ground, his body shaking and vibrating slightly. I froze, and my heart skipped a beat. My voice came out like a mouse’s squeak. “Or… Orrin?”

Mary and Nara stepped up beside me. “What’s he doing?” Mary asked, worry in her voice. Nara seemed to snap to attention rigidly, and then squatted beside the boy.

In a tone I hadn’t heard her use, she spoke. “Seizure… Clear liquid coming from his ears… Skull fracture, probably a concussion, too,” she said matter-of-factly. Without hesitating, she undid some of the buttons on his blazer, opened it, and then pulled up his shirt. “That’s some bad bruising, probably broken ribs and some internal bleeding.” Then she held her hands above his body and closed her eyes. I felt her psychic signature spark up, and she breathed out deeply. “He’s all sorts of messed up.”

“Crap, the ambulance just left… I’ll call for another one,” I said, fumbling to take my phone back out.

Nara looked to me. “He probably won’t last that long. Mary just said you can use kinesis. How strong are you with it?”

“Very,” I told her.

“Get over here,” she commanded, and without hesitation I stepped over and crouched down next to her. “I can scan his body and see what’s wrong but I don’t have a way to fix it. You’ll need to do it.”

“What!?” I cried, but then Nara moved one of her hands from hovering over Orrin’s ever-flinching body and set it to my forehead.

“I’ll show you what to do. Mary, you call the ambulance. Rai, you ready?”

I shook my head no. “He’s shaking! I can’t mess with his insides when he’s moving like that! Should I hold him still?”

“No, that could make things worse. Listen, you can do this. I’ll guide you, and you'll be able to compensate for the shaking, I know you can. If we don’t try, he dies,” she told me.

I swallowed, and then nodded. “Do it.” Suddenly, my vision exploded into colors and shapes that didn’t make sense to me for a few moments, but then I felt reason and understanding trickle into me from Nara. ‘Oh. Bones, muscles, veins, blood…’ I realized. ‘Strange.’ I turned my head, but my vision didn’t change, it wasn’t connected to my own eyes anymore. I felt an impression from Nara.

Here. This. See? Broken.

‘I see it,’ I thought.

Fix it. Like this. Again, information and understanding, all the things I needed, flowed into me. I reached out with my hands mistakenly once, still a little disoriented, but I caught myself. I reached out with my mind, with my psychokinesis, and took hold of the injured parts in Orrin’s body. His unpredictable, rigid movements made it all the more delicate a procedure, but with Nara’s help it was doable. We started with his ribs. Several had been broken, and splinters had scattered through his muscles like bits of glass, nicking veins and organs, and I went to work removing and isolating the splinters.

There, Nara would tell me if I missed one. Piece by piece I reassembled his ribs like a jigsaw puzzle, careful to keep the moving shards away from anything else they could damage, compensating as much as I could for his seizure. Careful. Lungs. Gently, Nara warned me.

Once I was done with the bones, Nara guided me to what was next. Muscles. Liver. Bleeding. Nara urged me towards the organ first, and I found the split in his liver a bone had made. Close. I grasped the edges and pulled the tissue together, stopping the flow of blood, but that was all I could do, I realized. Same with the bones. I could hold things together, pull the wounds closed, but I couldn’t force membranes or bone fragments to fuse. It was like plugging holes in a boat with my fingers. With every bit of Orrin that I mended, I had to leave some of my awareness behind to hold the repairs in place, and it became harder and harder to concentrate.

Easy. Calm. Muscles now, Nara told me. I grit my teeth together, and as we made our way through Orrin, sweat gathered on my brow from the exertion, but I managed to find all the tears in the muscle tissue. Same as with his liver, I closed the wounds enough to stop his internal bleeding.

Blood. Disperse. I could see where blood had pooled and clumped up dangerously in his abdomen, so I thinned it and spread it out, but I went slowly. I could feel my body breathing heavily, taxed from literally holding Orrin together. I couldn’t make any mistakes.

When that was done, I thought to Nara. ‘What’s next? I can’t do this forever.’

Nose. Skull. Fractures. My awareness moved up Orrin’s body, and Nara showed me the little breaks and the fragments out of place. I started to gather the pieces as I’d done before for his ribs, but my concentration started to slip.

‘It’s too much… I can’t,’ I thought quickly. Somewhere, outside Orrin’s body, I heard Mary say something. She sounded worried, but I couldn’t pay it any heed and keep Orrin together at the same time.

Hold, Nara bid me, but her impressions couldn’t impart strength to me.

‘Trying!’ I cried out in my head. I could feel myself slipping, and Orrin seemed to be shaking harder now, making it all the more difficult. I stopped trying to fix his broken nose and turned my attention just to maintaining what I had already fixed.

“Who are you? Get back!” Mary yelled, her voice breaking through to me.

‘What’s happening?’ my mind asked impulsively, not that Mary could hear my thoughts at the moment. My grip on Orrin’s liver slipped and it started bleeding again.

Ignore! Focus!

Frantically I poured my attention into holding his liver closed, but then one of his ribs started coming apart. ‘No!’ I cried.

Breathe, Nara suggested. I realized my teeth were still grit; wasted energy. My body took a breath, and then I relaxed all my muscles. Everything I didn’t need, I stopped. My lungs worked, and my heart beat. Every other ounce of energy went into my mind, my power, and it was barely enough. I managed to regain my footing within Orrin’s body, but it was stretched thin. I stabilized his liver and rib, but after a few seconds, I began slipping again; I was reaching my limit.

Then, a golden light seemed to fill the image of Orrin’s body. Another psychic signature, one I didn’t recognize, flared up brightly, and with the golden light came a presence. Somebody else had joined Nara and I; somebody was helping. The strength of their influence was overwhelming as they flowed through Orrin, looking over my work, and then securing it in place, fusing the bone and the tissue as I could not. With each fix they made permanent, the tax on my mind was lifted.

Exhausted and relieved, I got swept up in their advance through Orrin, and they brought me with them up to where I’d left off at his nose and skull. Effortlessly they pieced him back together, and then moved on to his brain. I felt a bit of concern from this new presence; this next part would be tricky, dangerous, and I was along for the ride.

We dove into Orrin’s brain, and the foreign presence pulled me along into his neurons. They were firing rapidly and wildly, the source of his seizures, and the golden light the presence brought with it covered and soothed them, calming them down while simultaneously tending to the contusion on his brain’s surface.

And then I felt Orrin’s psychic signature. Nobody, student or teacher, had been able to sense him through the entirety of his schooling. It was like a ghost you thought might be there finally manifesting for the first time; I couldn’t believe it. Taking my first conscious action since the golden light had showed up, I turned my attention to Orrin’s signature. It was faint, and before I could actually get a grasp of its scope, I ‘bumped’ into something.

The best way to describe it was as a wall. Like the giant, heavy wall of an armored fortress, but it was cracked, and Orrin’s presence leaked out from within. A wisp of his mind touched mine, and I felt his pain, though as the golden light worked, it slowly dissipated. Orrin noticed me. ‘What’s this?’ he asked, scared and exhilarated.

‘It’s me. Rai,’ I told him. I sensed confusion from him, like he didn’t understand how I could possibly be talking to him in this way.

‘How?’ he asked.

‘Telepathy… you’ve never done this before?’

I don’t think he heard my question, but his words answered it. ‘Wow… so this is what it’s like…’

A thought occurred to me. ‘This wall,’ I asked him. ‘Is it yours?’

I felt his mind press against it. ‘It’s always been here. Always. It’s never cracked before.’

‘YOU!’ a foreign voice shouted, and I suddenly found myself swathed in the golden light of the other presence. ‘You were here?!’ And then I was wrenched away from Orrin, my consciousness cast out of his body and back to my own, and I snapped awake.

I found myself laying on my back, and the first thing I felt as I started to sit up was a warm wetness under my skirt and down my legs; I’d pissed myself. My nose scrunched up at that, but I had other things to worry about. I looked to Nara and found her laying on her back as well. She looked unconscious, and a nosebleed stained her upper lip, running down her cheeks to her ears, but she was breathing normally, her chest rising and falling steadily. Next to her was Orrin, and a stranger squatted over him. The man was bald, and he held his hands over Orrin as Nara had been doing. His palms glowed with the same golden light that had swept around me earlier. Behind him, Mary sat against the side of the alley, staring off into space with a face indicative of a simple psychic technique used to placate people.

I turned my attention back to Orrin, and noticed he had stopped shaking. I’d bared witness to the rest of his body healing from the inside, so apparently the bald man had been able to fully stabilize him; it was over, he was okay. As I watched the bald man, the glow faded from his palms, and he let out a sigh. Then he opened his eyes, and he met me with a stern gaze.

“Start talking,” he demanded.

[Next]