by Jamie Davis
Accidental Warrior
Jamie Davis
MedicCast Productions
Copyright © 2017 by Jamie Davis. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental.
Reproduction in whole or in part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
The authors greatly appreciate you taking the time to read their work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help them spread the word.
Thank you for supporting their work.
Cover art by CoversByChristian.com
Created with Vellum
Dedicated to the LitRPG community who’ve supported this project from the beginning. Enjoy.
— Jamie Davis
To Madison and my family.
— C.J. Davis
Contents
More Books
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
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Book 4 - The Paramedic’s Hunter
Book 5 - The Paramedic’s Witch
Book 6 - The Paramedic’s Nemesis
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Stolen Destiny
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Prologue
Tildi the Elder, master wizard, tended the small herb garden in her tower’s central courtyard. These mundane plants were of little magical use but they were tasty when added to her meals and the simple activity gave her some peace.
A tinkling bell sounded from inside her tower and a wisp of blue smoke wafted from open window of her tower’s upper room. Theran was here. That was a surprise. He didn’t usually drop in unannounced or uninvited.
Standing, Tildi brushed the soil from her knees and limped inside, her old joints protesting at the sudden change in position and movement. She groaned at having to hurry but she supposed she ought to see what Theran wanted.
The tall mage was pacing the floor of her tower’s upper room when Tildi arrived. He didn’t see her at first and he was muttering something unintelligible under his breath.
“Good afternoon, Theran. This is a surprise.”
“What took you so long?” Theran snapped. “This is getting serious, Tildi. Emperor Kang’s thugs almost caught me today. I barely escaped with my life.”
Theran brushed at a strand of his gray-streaked black hair that fell across his brow. Underneath, dark blood was caked and matted in a small gash at the hair line.
“Good lord, Theran. Are you alright? Here, let me take a look at that wound.”
“He’s taken my tower, Tildi. Baron Norak and his mage hunters showed up earlier this morning.”
“I didn’t know he was that close to locating you,” Tildi said. She returned with a basin of water and a clean cloth. She began blotting at the head wound. “I’m glad you were able to get away.”
“It was a close thing, let me tell you,” Theran said, wincing as Tildi dabbed at the cut on his brow. “I think he traced me back to the tower after I went east. I had to check on rumors of a new army being raised there by the Emperor.”
“What did you find?” Tildi asked. “I heard rumblings of something going on in Hyroth but I haven’t yet found the time to break away and look into it.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t, Tildi. Baron Norak has his watchdogs out scouring the city for any magic use. They discovered me after only a day. I didn’t have much time to investigate anything before they caught up with me. Then I had my hands full trying to escape.”
“You must have discovered something, Theran. What did you find out?”
“Emperor Kang has Norak in Hyroth. He’s training a special army using the blood pits. Only the best survive. He’ll soon have a newer, more powerful army to march against Tandon and the other western cities in rebellion.”
“The fighting pits, that must be where she is,” Tildi said, snapping her fingers. “I thought I’d lost her, but the blood magic would have hidden her from my scrying.”
“Who?” Theran asked.
“Uh, no one,” Tildi lied. “Just a person I’ve become interested in.”
“Well if she’s in the arenas it’s likely she’s dead.”
“I doubt she’s dead,” Tildi said. “The person I’m thinking of is very resourceful. She’ll find a way to survive, but she’s going to need help. I think it’s time to contact our friend Hal Dix again.”
“It’s been more than two years since he freed Tandon from the Emperor’s hold,” Theran said. “Why would he care enough to come back now?”
“Hal is, first and foremost, loyal to his family and friends. Hal will come because there’s a friend in need.”
“This is no job for a single thief,” Theran warned. “Your opponent served his purpose and started the rebellion here in the west. He cannot just wander into the eastern cities and do the same thing. That is much closer to the center of Kang’s power.”
“You don’t know or understand the power of the opponent, Theran. You never did.”
Tildi set the basin and cloth down and crossed the room to start rummaging through a leather satchel.
“I must travel to see Hal again.”
“What makes you think he’ll agree to drop everything and come help, even for a friend? He almost died the last time he was here.”
“I can be very persuasive, don’t you know? He will agree to come. Never fear.”
Theran snorted half a laugh and rolled his eyes.
Tildi gathered some things she’d need for the trip to the other world and began stuffing them in her satchel. She looked over her shoulder at her guest.
“Theran, be a dear and call the others while I get ready
to travel. I’ll need their power again, along with yours, if I’m to be successful. As you said, time is of the essence.”
Theran grumbled something about Tildi being an incessant busy body under his breath. She chose to ignore his complaints. She smiled to herself when, despite his muttering, he stepped up on the conjuring dais and began an incantation of communication while Tildi prepared to journey from Fantasma across the planes. She opened a large chest in the corner. Inside was the black leather garb of a thief. A double brace of throwing knives lay atop the armor and folded clothing of a master thief. Alongside the throwing knives lay a pair of polished steel daggers.
Tildi smiled and reached into the chest, pulling the daggers from it. She tucked them into her belt. She was already formulating a plan and chuckled. Hal would be so happy to see her, of that she was sure.
1
Hal Dix had faced death before. He’d stared the grim reaper in the face on more than one occasion. His opponents had blades and fangs and claws and poison. None of them compared to the slow, painful death he faced today.
Hal faced death certain death by Powerpoint.
Six months into his tenure as a senior management trainee for Arrantis Technologies, Hal Dix was on the way to a new life. His luck had changed for the better. He made a better wage, had moved into a better house, and his home life was happier than ever before.
To say things were starting to look up for a change was an understatement.
Still, here he was, once again, staring at a series of slides on ROI and corporate cash reserves while the idiot senior management trainer at the front of the room droned on, reading each slide’s bullet points verbatim. To make matters worse, Hal found himself seated next to Barry Cross for the entire day, the true bane of his existence.
Not only had corporate accepted Hal’s application to the prestigious senior management trainee program six months ago, they’d also stamped a yes on Barry’s. Now, for the last six months, he’d been stuck in endless classes, seminars, and meetings with Barry’s acerbic wit.
It wouldn’t be so bad but Barry often used Hal as the butt of his jokes and Hal never seemed to come up with a quick verbal comeback until hours later. That left him with the only defense of smiling and laughing along with the other trainees. It made him feel seriously lame.
“Hey, Hal. You ready for the Management Warriors Weekend?” Barry whispered just loud enough for the other trainees nearby to hear. “I hope we’re on opposite teams. I plan on making you into my paintball masterpiece!”
That brought out a burst of snickers from those who’d overheard the threat. The fact was, Hal was not ready for the upcoming trip to a management retreat and five-day team building exercise. It was rumored that trainees who didn’t show what upper management called a “warrior’s heart” were cut from the training program. That worried Hal.
He found he was good at most of what they tried to teach the trainees. He discovered he was able to quickly spot discrepancies in spreadsheets and his ideas for adjustments were usually well received from his trainers and mentors.
What Hal didn’t seem to have, according to his superiors, was a killer instinct and intuition. At least that was what his latest performance review said.
Hal had a strange feeling his head was on the chopping block this weekend. If he didn’t show some initiative and stand out in some way.
He was still lost in thought about the pending retreat trip when the seminar ended. It took Barry’s poke in the shoulder to jolt him out of his daydream.
“Hey, Hal, you plan on staying here all weekend? Seminar’s over, you dolt.”
More laughter from Barry’s crew. They were all vying to be on the aggressor force in this weekend’s culminating event, The Paintball War. Hal knew Barry figured it was the best way to get recognized for their warrior spirit.
Hal didn’t care which side of the battle he was on as long as it was not on Barry’s team.
“I was thinking about the retreat this weekend, Barry. I think it might be your chance to finally show what an asshole you are.” Hal said.
“That’s what you think,” Barry said. “This weekend is where the losers are separated from the winners, Dix. Remember that when I spell out a giant ‘L’ on your chest with paintballs.”
Barry poked Hal in the chest to demonstrate each paintball strike he planned for Hal. Hal brushed Barry’s hand away and stepped around the bully and his groupies.
Hal thought for a moment what it would be like to shove one of his steel daggers up against Barry’s throat so he could feel the blade’s edge against his skin. Maybe Barry should learn how dangerous Hal really could be if he was given the right opportunity.
On his return from the game world of Fantasma six months before, Hal had gone back to the swap meet across from the Arrantis Corporate Campus to see the blade vendor there. He’d bought the pair of steel daggers that so resembled the pair he’d carried and used so effectively in Fantasma’s game world on his path to becoming a master thief.
It still all seemed like nothing more than a strange dream. The game had turned out to be all too real including the pain of sword and dagger wounds that left actual scars he carried to this day. The daggers served as a reminder of his strange journey to the other world.
Hal, hurried from the seminar room, still hearing Barry’s laughter echoing off the corridor walls behind him. Someday he hoped he got the chance to show Barry and his cronies what he could really do. He didn’t think Barry would last long in Fantasma. Then again, Barry would have probably gone right over to work for Emperor Kang’s cronies.
It was sunny outside when Hal left the front entrance of the Arrantis building and crossed the parking lot to stare across the street. The flea market was set up, the same flea market the old woman and wizard Tildi had used to con him into buying the bootleg copy of the Fantasma game.
On a sudden impulse, Hal checked the traffic and dodged across the street to walk among the tents set up for the various vendors. He weaved through the tents filed with people selling assorted tools, blankets, hand-crafts, and artwork until he reached the aisle where the gaming vendor by the name of Dave usually set up his booth.
Dave was there, right where Hal expected him with his used video games for consoles and PCs laid out on the tables around him. Dave was alone, though, which disappointed him.
Hal was afraid to boot up the game and return to Fantasma that way since he knew he’d have to remain stuck there until a wizard of Tildi’s power could be found to return him home. He did have a wife and child here and Mona would certainly notice him gone for an extended time even with the time differential between the worlds.
Hal missed his friends, though, so he checked in with Dave just once, about a month after he returned from his previous trip. He’d wanted to see how his friends in Tandon were doing and hoped Dave might know a way to contact Tildi.
Dave couldn’t help him. As far as Dave was concerned she was a temporary employee he’d hired once when he’d been too sick to come to the flea market to sell his wares. Hal was disappointed but accepted that unless he wanted to boot up the game at home again, he’d probably never know what happened to Kay, Duke Korran, and the others.
Since then, though he didn’t ask for her, Hal wandered through the flea market from time to time to see if Tildi was back in the gaming stall.
She never was.
Hal turned and started back down the aisle between the tents, only half paying attention to where he was going. Before he knew it, a familiar voice called out to him.
“Hey, dagger man, looking for a new blade for your collection?”
Hal looked up and found himself next to the exotic and fantasy blade vendor at the flea market. Just before his trip to Fantasma, he’d admired a fine set of daggers the vendor had offered for sale.
Since then, after he returned and bought the original daggers, he’d come back several times and checked out other short blades and daggers. It was fun to think about how he’d outfit
himself as Hal the Master Thief in Fantasma.
He’d never bought any others, though. Mona had thought he was crazy to purchase the first two blades to begin with. Hal could never make her understand his link to the finely wrought daggers. She’d think he was crazy if he told her about his trip to another place and time.
Anyway, she was right. He didn’t need more like them. The two he’d bought were enough. They were mounted at home on the wall of his office there.
Hal walked up to the table covered with cheap, knockoff replicas of famous swords from the movies. Having used the real thing, he could tell the difference.
“Hey, Steve, how’ve you been?”
“Doin’ okay,” Steve replied. “Waiting for another good fantasy flick to make it big so I can sell some more replica blades. It’s not the same as selling the real thing like those matched daggers you bought, but it pays the bills. No one wants to spend the money for functional steel. How are those daggers doing for you? You keeping them clean and sharp?”
“Wouldn’t be much good if they weren’t,” Hal said, chuckling.
Steve understood what Hal meant and laughed along with him. Steve wasn’t just a guy selling swords and knives in a flea market. He was a true artisan who made real blades for people who respected fine steel weapons.