I awoke to the creaking sound of a wagon and the jolt of being drug over a rocky road. It was rather warm outside, and it appeared to be late afternoon, as the sun was hovering just over the horizon, peeking through the bars of what appeared to be a slave trade wagon. I blinked the tiredness out of my eyes, trying to ignore the pounding headache that must've been a result from the fierce battle. The battle! What happened? Where's Mr. Sampson? Where am I?
I tried to repress the panic I had begun to feel by taking a deep breath and beginning to meditate. It was a method taught to me by my mentor. As I sat there, listening to the creak of the wagon and the distant chatter of the two slavers driving the wagon, images flashed through my mind as my memory slowly returned. A man, wielding a belt like an angry slave master. Quiet, stolen moments of tranquility found in a book. The smell of wine and roasted pig and chicken. A wind, swelling inside that could no longer be contained. A ritual. Lighting. Sparks. Death. Betrayal. Escape. Peace. Mentorship. A battle. Monsters. More lightning. A mentor, friend, father, lying broken on the ground, blood gushing from a fatal chest wound. Black. A blackness that brought change: a blackness that brought steel.
My eyes opened, unleashing a tear that rolled down my cheek and fell to the planks below. That was the only tear I would shed for that great man, who believed not in holding onto the past but pressing forward into the future. The only man that had ever treated me with dignity. So, determined to press forward, I observed my details, activating what Mr. Sampson had liked to call "Tactical Sight". I looked around, noticing three other people in my cart, the two slavers sitting on the seat in front of the bars, the team of donkeys pulling the wagon, the thick metal bars, the hills on either side of the meandering path through a thick forest, and, most importantly, the distinct lack of manacles on my wrist. That could only mean one of two things, either my captors don't know who I am and what I'm capable of as a warlock, or they are warlocks that are far more powerful than me.
Listening to their vulgar conversation as I studied their unshaved faces, one round and the other bone thin and undernourished, I concluded that they were likely ordinaries that didn't realize I'm an 8th degree warlock. An 8th degree warlock that knows two very important and very cool 9th degree spells. Before I move however, I need to study my companions. By their dress, I deduced that two of them were ordinaries, one a blacksmith and the other likely a school teacher. Both must have been in the militia for the fight. The last captive, however, was a girl that seemed to be about my age, and she was wearing an amber robe, indicating that she was at least 7th degree. The pure incompetency of my captives is absolutely astonishing! I honestly don't understand how people can be so stupid and uneducated sometimes.
Ignoring the two heavily snoring ordinaries, I crawled over to the girl and shook her, trying to wake her up. She had a noticeable goose egg on her head, and her robe was bloody and torn, though she appeared relatively unscathed, and only grunted in response to my shaking. Ok, so I couldn't rely on her. That's fine, judging by the appearance of our captives, I wouldn't need her anyway, just a little more stamina. So, I closed my eyes and focused on the crickets in the background, letting the music of the present moment soothe my soul and replenish my stamina. The sun sank below the horizon, leaving only a remnant of the glow that used to light the forest, and taking with it its warmth.
As I came out of my meditation, I looked around anew and felt a rage build within me. Remembering my mentor's teachings, I took a calming breath, knowing that I needed to be clear minded for the task ahead. My captives had hooked two torches to the front of the wagon, apparently desperate to get us wherever we were going as soon as possible. With the light shooting out 40 ft in front of the wagon, I knew I had just enough sight for a certain risky spell that would definitely upset my captives.
Vividly envisioning myself at a spot 40 feet in front of the wagon, I incanted in an even and precise tone "impetus peragro". With a mighty thwomp, I appeared in front of the wagon, arm rings shining with bright and potent hurricane energy in the darkness of the dusk. The wagon shuddered to a halt as my now former captives shouted in alarm, each standing up on the footboard and drawing their swords in an attempt to be menacing. They must have been drunk or crazy, because they decided it would be intelligent to now charge an 8th degree warlock as two ordinaries. Granted, I still had a pounding headache, but they were still no match for my arcane might, and I intended to let them know that in the briefest way possible.
"Paralizo carcusa cemente" I spat, outlining the slaver to the right. He immediately ground to a stop, falling forward with his momentum and smacking the earth with his round face. Bet that felt good, I thought. I summoned a shield of twirling air, stopping the blade of the second slaver from cutting my face off, then smoothly snapped "baka" while thrusting my hands forward, shoving him back into the bars of the wagon. His arm made a sharp cracking noise, and the man yelped in pain.
I strode toward the wagon, the man obviously in pain and unwilling to continue the fight. He slid to the ground, propping his back up on the wheel of the wagon. "Where are we?" I asked him in a nonchalant voice, like I hadn't just wiped the trail with him. "I-In the Ravenwood" the man managed to whimper out. "Solia?" I asked "We're all the way in Solia? Where were you taking us?" This was my first sojourn out of Tiberra. Though hardly my first time traveling. The man only nodded, seemingly refusing to answer my last question.
I knelt down beside the man, getting uncomfortably close to his ear. "I suggest you answer the question, lest I turn you into the weasel we both know you to be". The steel in my whisper of a voice was unmistakable, and he quickly responded by saying "w-we were taking you to Blackhaven to s-sell for m-money". "Mmm" I intoned, standing up and taking a few steps away. I glanced at the round-faced slaver, making sure he was still paralyzed, though I knew it would take an ordinary hours to fight off my spell.
I turned so that I could look at both of them, knowing the paralyzed man could still hear me. "You are both going to walk towards those mountains", pointing towards the Murranians, "and are never going to show your face in this area ever again. If you so much as look back, I will not hesitate to kill you." I said it so matter of factly that I managed to surprise myself with my tone. I released the paralyzed man, and they both ran off towards the mountains, not wanting to give me a chance to change my mind. In fact, they ran off so fast that they left both of their supply bags behind, tied to the side of the wagon seat. How considerate of them.
I walked up and untied one of the bags, set it on the seat, and began looking through it. There was a ratty two person tent, some salted and wrapped beef, some bread, a block of cheese, flint and steel, a map, two blankets, a canteen of water, and a key to the wagon. The other bag had the same stuff, minus the key, obviously a preloaded pack one could buy for a journey. Shouldering one of the bags, I grabbed the key and turned to head to the back of the wagon, only to notice the girl sitting straight up and staring at me. "Unnameables, don't scare me like that" I said, startled. She had a round face with steely blue eyes and shoulder length brown hair. Her face had just the right concentration of freckles. "Who are you?" She said in a confident yet quiet and quizzical voice, tipping her head to one side.
"I'm Adriticus" I muttered, not sure if I could trust her yet. "And who might you be?" Her head straightened and her chin lifted, "Ashlen" she replied in that same confident voice. "Why'd you let them go?" she continued, with a hint of condemnation. "So many have died already" I responded, "I'm not interested in adding to that list." She seemed to accept that answer, nodding her head before looking off into the distance, seeming to contemplate something. Was that a tear I noticed? I walked around to the back of the wagon and unlocked the door, offering her my hand to help her down. She glanced at it before hoping down by herself, her amber robe swaying in the slight breeze that had picked up. The two ordinaries remained asleep in the wagon. I put a blanket over each of them and placed one of the packs beside them, deciding they would survive a still-warm night in the wagon and would most likely be able to find their way home when they woke up.
Ashlen, noticing this, asked "going somewhere?". "Yeah" I replied, "I'm gonna go hide in the woods and try to find some water. Want to come with me?". "Sure" she replied after a moment of consideration, obviously relieved that I wasn't gonna leave her behind. "They'll be fine" I said in as reassuring a voice as possible, "they'll wake up tomorrow and probably follow the trail. But I don't want anyone knowing that I'm here and still alive. Life's a lot easier when no one knows you exist". I winked at her, to which I received a prompt eye roll. This was gonna be fun.
"Shyneo". My palm lit with glowing, swirling wind; Ashlen lit her palm with bright fire. "Shall we?" I asked in my snootiest voice, offering her my elbow. She promptly refused with another eye roll and a tiny smile, walking off towards the woods. I ran to catch up with her, matching her stride. "Where are you from?" I asked her. "A rural village in Tiberra you've probably never heard of, and certainly won't now. It got razed by the legion. I'm the only one that got out, and that's only because I'm a warlock." Her face went hard as she relived certainly harrowing moments. "I'm sorry to hear that" I said, "what degree are you?" She wordlessly flared seven rings of fire around her right arm. She raised an eyebrow at me, and I summoned my 8 rings of air, which glowed brightly in the night. "What about you? Where are you from?" She asked in a quizzical voice. "I'm from Dramask, where I was mentored by a good man who died in the battle. Let's stop here for the night." We had come upon a clearing perfect for camping.
I dropped the bag and dug out the tent as Ashlen gathered some dead wood, placing it in the center of the clearing. "What was his name? What was he like?" Ashlen pressed innocently. "I don't want to talk about him" I snapped, not wanting to reminisce and get all emotional. Ashlen stared at me, surprised by my sudden outburst. "Sorry" I apologized, feeling like an idiot. "It's just been a long day." She just nodded her understanding, lighting the fire with a miniature fireball. I sent the tent up with the opening facing towards the fire, hoping to trap some heat. I then walked a wide circle around the camp, setting a ring of traps and object alarms. Ashlen noticed and set several more alarms, though didn't know the 9th degree Craft Trap spell. We both sat down by the fire to warm up before going to bed.
Ashlen gingerly touched the bump on her head and winced. "What gave you that?" I asked, trying to ease the tension. "I must have gotten it in the battle. I don't remember much." "yeah" I replied, yawing. "That was one heck of a fight. Got our butts handed to us by the legion." Ashlen nodded, her eyes going distant again. I sighed and crawled into the tent, which had in fact been warmed by the fire. I settled on one side, drawing a blanket over myself and getting comfortable. After a few minutes, Ashlen crawled in next to me, grabbing the other blanket for herself.
We both laid there for a few minutes, but neither of us could fall asleep. Listening to the gentle lull of the forest, I started to think about my mentor. "He was a good man," I said, making Ashlen perk up. "He was wise and incredibly intelligent, a good duelist too. He taught me how to duel, how to strategize, how to speak to get a result. He taught me what it meant to be a good man, what it means to have honor and dignity and courage. He was the only true guide I ever had." I finished in a whisper, recalling good times. We listened to the crickets for a while, so long I thought she had fallen asleep. Then she started talking.
"I was a single child with a single dad. He taught me much the same things that your mentor did. He also helped me along the arcane path, and along life's path. He sacrificed himself so that I could have time to get away. He was all I had." I could hear her sniffling in the dark. "I'm sorry" I whispered, not sure what else to say. "Me too," She responded. We lay in the silence, listening to the fire steadily die. It was late before either of us fell asleep.
