The first thing he remembered hearing was a voice. That told him he was somewhere silent, or he would've heard other sounds first. He felt warm. That told him he was indoors, since he had a vague memory of the day being windy. He felt comfortable. That told him he was in a bed, since the surface below him was soft. Altogether it told him he had been rescued.
"Are you awake?" was what the voice said. He was, but only just. He blinked twice. "I found you unconscious on the plains," the voice continued. It was a woman's voice. She sounded young, likely close to his age. He opened his eyes further and saw that he was in a tent. He recognized the design as being native to the nomads of Sacae. He looked around until he caught sight of the voice's owner.
It was a girl. She looked to be around his height and—probably—around his age. Her hair was a deep blue-green and was held up in a ponytail that extended most of the way down her back. She was dressed in a blue tunic that he also recognized as being of Sacaen design. She had striking blue eyes that gazed intently at him and sharp features that he could only describe as beautiful.
"I'm Lyn, of the Lorca tribe. You're safe now," she said. Her voice was kind and reassuring. He could tell instantly that she was telling him the truth. There was no malice or deception, there was only genuine concern for the man she had rescued. "Who are you?" she asked. "Can you remember your name?" Of course, he hadn't spoken yet. She was likely worried that he had taken a blow to the head.
"M-Mark," he said. His throat felt rough. He didn't know how long he had been unconscious, but it had clearly been for a while. "My name is Mark. Could I trouble you for some water?" She didn't answer immediately, she simply moved to pick up a flask. Her movements were graceful and he had to fight not to stare.
"Your name is Mark? What an odd sounding name." It wasn't so odd in his home, but she was a nomad of Sacae, so to her ears it likely was. Though, he realized, he wasn't sure where his home was, simply that his name wasn't odd there. "Ah...I'm sorry. Pay me no mind," she said as she handed him the flask of water, "it is a good name." He began to drink and he let her continue. "You look like a traveler. Would you share your story? What brings you to the plains of Sacae?" So she was inquisitive and, as he discerned from her apology, conscientious. He decided he liked Lyn of the Lorca tribe.
"Of course," he said. "I'll share my story. I'm—" his words were cut off by the sounds of shouting from outside the tent.
"Stay here," she said. "I'll go see what's happening." She turned towards the entrance to the tent and he noticed a sword on her hip. He knew that Sacae had a reputation for being mostly wilderness, which likely meant that all the nomads needed to learn to fight. As she left the tent he sat up and swung his legs around. He wasn't a fighter, but he couldn't let his savior deal with whatever was going on by herself. She returned within moments looking worried.
"Is it bandits?" he was guessing from the look on her face, but her reaction to the word told him he was correct.
"They must have come from the Bern mountains to raid the local villages," she said. Her expression faltered and she seemed to take a moment to steel herself. "I...have to stop them."
"How many are out there?"
"Only two," she said. "If that's all I...should be able to handle them on my own. Stay here, Mark. You'll be safe until I'm finished." He stood up. He was shaky, but his head was clear.
"No," he said, "I'll help you. I owe you that much."
"Can you fight?" she asked. He could tell it wasn't a question meant to shame him, simply one of curiosity.
"No, but I'm a strategist by trade. I can see the flow of battle and should be able to direct you." A lot of his memories were missing, but he was sure of that much. He wasn't sure how he was sure, but he was sure. Lyn of the Lorca tribe needed help and he could help.
"That seems an odd profession, but if you can help...very well. Stay with me." She hurried out of the tent. He was still a little shaky, so she moved more quickly than he did and he fell a few steps behind. "Over here!" she called out as he exited the tent. He glanced around and saw that they were indeed on the plains of Sacae. He saw the mountains of Bern to the northeast and a river he knew led to Lycia to the south. He found it odd that the only memories he seemed to lack were those of his past and not his studies, but he knew he didn't have time to wonder.
"I'm with you," he said.
"Please, if you think you can help, give me your advice. And stay close to me. I'll protect you." He was a stranger to her, and yet she didn't hesitate to say it. Yes, he thought, he liked this Lyn of the Lorca tribe.
He stood next to her and looked around to take stock of the battlefield. He did only see two bandits in front of them, one near to them and one further away in front of another tent. He assumed that one was in charge since he seemed to be ordering the other one towards the tent in which Mark had been sleeping. The bandit didn't seem to have noticed them from their position. There was some taller grass surrounding them that likely obscured them enough for the time being.
"I need to be closer to the enemy, Mark," Lyn said. "Follow me."
"Wait," he said, "you should let him come to you. You have surprise on your side."
"I can't," she said, "I need to stop them now." She, despite his advice, ran forward out of the grass. He didn't want to leave, but he also couldn't afford to stay on his own. He fell in line a step behind her. The bandit spotted them, shouted, and began to charge. "Let's close in and attack!" she called to Mark. He decided that taking the initiative was likely their best course of action.
"I agree," he said quickly. "Draw your sword and be ready. You should have the advantage over him with his axe, so strike quickly when he begins to swing."
"I'm ready," she said. He noticed a slight tremble to her voice. He guessed that she had never seen a real fight before. The bandit rushed forward with a cry and swung his axe. Lyn was able to slide out of the way and she struck with her sword. The bandit roared in pain but Lyn was able to strike him again in his midsection before he could react. He reeled back and seemed to ready himself. "Stay behind me," she said over her shoulder. He could see that her sword was unsteady. The bandit was a much larger man than either of them and Mark himself felt the hair on his neck stand on end.
The bandit swung his axe down at Lyn again. Lyn attempted to block his strike, but his size advantage and her wavering hand caused his strike to land a blow against her midsection. She let out a cry of pain and stumbled back, but recovered in time to strike him again. The bandit grunted and his body sagged to the ground. The axe fell from his hand and he didn't rise.
"Are you alright, Mark?" She asked him in between heavy breaths.
"I am," he said, but you're hurt. Do you have a vulnerary or bandages?"
"I have some In my satchel." She handed it to him. "Find them while we move closer." He started digging through it while they advanced. Lyn was clearly in pain but she didn't slow down. He found the medicine and handed it forward to her. She stopped to drink it and he could see her posture change as it began to take effect. "Thank you. Give me a moment before we go take on the bandit by the ger." He assumed that was the name for the tents.
"How badly were you hurt?" He could see that her hands had steadied, but there was blood down the side of her tunic. "Are you alright?"
"I'll be fine," she said as she handed him back the vulnerary. "Let's move." She barely gave him time to store the bottle before she was off towards the bandit. The man saw them approaching and raised his weapon. He was much larger than Lyn, with blond hair and scars all over his face and arms. Mark could tell that this was not a man who had ever attempted an honest life.
"Who do you think you are?" the man called. His voice was as rough as his appearance. "You think you can stand up to Batta the Beast?"
"I'll stop you!" Lyn shouted and charged at him. She managed to land a blow on his arm, but her momentum carried her too far forward and Mark could see that she was vulnerable. He called out to her but wasn't in time and the man called Batta struck her with his axe near her midsection where the other bandit had hit her. She cried out in pain but managed to stumble back and out of Batta's reach. He raised his weapon and started to advance towards them.
"We need to retreat," said Mark, "you're hurt."
"No," she said, "there's no time. Mark, if I fall, flee."
"I won't—" Batta charged and swung down at Lyn. Gathering up her remaining strength, she tumbled to one side and nearly fell to the ground. She sprung back up and stabbed at Batta. His attack had left him open and her sword found purchase under his arm. She withdrew it and Mark saw that its tip was stained with blood. Batta tried to raise his axe to defend himself, but his injury slowed him down. Lyn was faster. She brought down her sword on his weapon hand and her attack caused the axe to fall to the ground. She struck again at him one, twice, three times in a flash. Batta grunted and sank to his knees.
"What? How...How did you..." He fell on his face in the grass. Lyn sagged to one knee and Mark rushed forward to support her. He pulled the vulnerary out of the bag again and passed it to her. She used her free hand to drink from it.
"Phew...it's over," she said. "I underestimated them." She looked at him with a pained expression. "Sorry to worry you. I guess I need to get stronger if I'm going to survive." Mark found that a bit odd considering she was part of a tribe. Surely there would be no reason for a woman that young to need to survive alone. He decided against asking her about it until she was feeling better. He lifted her to her feet. He wasn't the strongest of men, but Lyn wasn't heavy.
"Let's get back to your hut," he said.
"Indeed. Thank you for your help, Mark." He decided against answering for fear that she would try to keep talking. She was hurt and needed rest. He continued to support her on his shoulder as they made their way back to her hut. It took much longer to return than it had taken to get there, but he didn't complain and Lyn didn't speak.
Once they made it back he let her sit on a chair by the bed as he found a cloth and some water. He handed them to her. She took them and started to clean her wounds.
"Are there bandages and fresh clothes anywhere?" he asked.
"Clothes are in that chest," she said, indicating one sitting opposite the entrance, "and there are bandages in that bag." He opened the chest and saw a tunic that appeared identical to the one she was wearing, as well as some heavier clothes and some clothes that made him glance away as his face started to heat up. He pulled out the tunic and handed it to her, then moved over to the bag she had pointed to. He found a cloth bandage and handed that to her as well.
"I'll be outside," he said. He couldn't bring himself to look directly at her.
"It's fine," she said. Her tone suggested that this was not a shameful situation for her, or perhaps she simply wasn't thinking clearly through the injury.
"Not to me." He stepped out into the late afternoon air. It was a windy day, but his robes protected him from the cold. He looked over the stretch of plains towards the ger at the bodies of the two bandits. He was a strategist, not a fighter. If this was the sort of problem the Sacae nomads had to deal with, he would need help. He wanted to ask Lyn, but she was so young. Not that he was old, or at least he assumed he wasn't, but it wasn't proper to ask a young woman to be his escort, not when she had already been hurt on his behalf.
"I'm done," came Lyn's voice from inside the hut. He turned and stepped back in. Her torn clothes were in a pile next to the chair and she was sitting up. It looked like she wasn't in pain anymore, or at least not as much. He got the impression she didn't like to show weakness.
"Are you feeling better?"
"I'll be fine, though I think I'd like to go to sleep. I'm exhausted." It wasn't surprising. Mark remembered reading that armed combat was one of the most taxing things someone could do.
"I understand," he said as he turned started to glance around the tent, "do you have a spare bedroll for me?" She shook her head and stood up before walking across the hut to the chest her clothes had been stored in.
"I do, but I'll use it. You sleep on the bed once you're ready." She pulled out the bedroll and unrolled it on the floor of the hut.
"No no, I couldn't," he said.
"You're my guest. I would never ask a guest to sleep in worse conditions than my own."
"Lyn, you're hurt. I can't—"
"I insist," she said more forcefully. He put his hands up in surrender and she nodded.
"I'll be outside," he said. "I'll try not to make noise when I come back." She settled herself in on the mat and closed her eyes. He stepped back out onto the plains. The sun was beginning to set below the horizon which bathed the grassy plains in amber light. It was growing cooler, but Mark decided to stay outside until nightfall. He wasn't sure if he'd ever been here to Sacae before, but he knew this was a sight he would remember forever.
Despite the battle, it had been a better day than he thought it would be when he woke in a strange bed in a strange land. He didn't remember what led him here to the plains, but he was glad he had been able to meet Lyn of the Lorca tribe. Even if they would be separated in the morning, he would never forget her.
He sat down and watched the sunset. He heard the sounds of birds and wolves in the distance as day became night. He briefly considered starting a fire, but decided against it. It wouldn't be safe to look around for wood and he didn't know if Lyn had flint or tinder. Even if she did it would mean rummaging around her tent while she was asleep, which would wake her up at worst and be a violation of her privacy at best. No, he decided a fire wasn't necessary. Instead, once the stars appeared in the night sky and the air became too cold he slipped back into the hut. Lyn was sleeping peacefully so he stayed as silent as he could on his way to the bed. He pulled the covers over himself and his head had hardly touched the pillow when his consciousness faded.
"—ood morning, Mark! Are you awake yet?" He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes. He sat up and saw that Lyn was already dressed and had two plates of simple breakfast foods in her hands. She offered one to him and he took it. "The fighting must have taken a lot out of you." He chewed on some bread then washed it down with some water before he answered.
"You were the one who was fighting. I'm surprised it didn't take more out of you." She shrugged.
"I'm awake now and my wounds are healed." She paused for a moment to eat some of her own food and it seemed to Mark like she was thinking something over. "Mark, I'd like to ask you something."
"Hmm?"
"It was clear to me that you have some experience in the ways of war, and I expect that you plan to continue your travels today now that you've recovered. Would you...allow me to join you?" He chewed thoughtfully on some dried meat.
"The truth is, I don't remember if I have experience in the ways of war. I don't remember much about myself beyond my studies. I studied strategy, but I don't know if I have ever used it in a war. And besides, my travels could be dangerous. This seems like the kind of decision you should speak to your parents about before you ask me." Her expression darkened.
"My...my mother and father died six months ago. In fact...the entire Lorca tribe...I'm the only one left." Mark felt a pang of guilt and stood up to get closer to her.
"Lyn, I'm sorry. I didn't..."
"You couldn't have known. There was a bandit attack..." That explained her attitude towards the bandits from the previous day. "So many were..." her voice trailed off, though Mark noticed that there were no tears in her eyes.
"You...you're sure there are no others?" She shook her head.
"The survivors...my father was the chieftain. They were an old-fashioned tribe. The few who survived wouldn't follow a woman." She sniffed and he realized that she was forcing back a sob even without tears. He started to stretch his hand out to comfort her, but let it fall. He knew he shouldn't try to act so familiar even if he wanted to. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I've been alone for so long..." She finally started to cry. It wasn't much, but it was obviously happening. He looked away, for her sake.
"I'm sorry," he said. He glanced back at her and saw her shake her head.
"No. No more tears." She was silent for several moments. "...Thank you. I've recovered now. Mark, whether your travels will be dangerous or not, I must go with you. I need to become stronger." She clenched one hand into a fist. "I will avenge my parents." Her voice was firm and cold. "I learned something yesterday. I won't become stronger by myself. That's why I want, no, why I need to go with you. Tell me you'll train me. Tell me we can travel together." Her resolve finally won him over.
"I'm not a swordsman," he said, "but I do know strategy and tactics. If you think that will help you, then yes, we can travel together." He needed an escort, and she needed a teacher or, at the very least, a friend. Besides, she had saved his life. It was the least he could do.
"Thank you! Oh, thank you so much!" She lunged forward and hugged him around his neck. It was so sudden and so brief he didn't even have time to be embarrassed about it. "We'll be better off together, I just know it! You'll be my master strategist, and I'll be your peerless warrior! We can do it, right?" Her enthusiasm was so infectious that he felt himself smile.
"We can do it," he said.
Yes, he liked Lyn of the Lorca tribe.
Oh look, I'm back with a new work! A new really, really big work! A new really, really big work novelizing my favorite game ever! And I'm totally not slacking off on finishing Lost and Found!