by Han Yang
We noticed Tarla arriving with Jark. She held up a bone, and I grew confused.
“Jark would like for you to reattach his finger,” Tarla said, a broad smile on her face.
She handed me the pinky finger.
I accepted the bone into my palm and stared at it blankly.
“Apparently, he thinks you can fix it,” Tarla said. She edged closer and said, “Please.”
I touched the bone. Nothing. I mediated a spell, extending my aura to the bone. Nothing. I waved Jark forward and stuck a hand on his skull. Nothing. I projected my aura to his being.
Minion: Jark.
Health 9/10. Level 1.
Sapient Human.
Memories intact.
Fighting Abilities: Weak.
Upgrade Available. Consume 12 mana and 1 Zorta (YES) or (NO)
Repair Required. Consume 3 mana (YES) or (NO)
I checked my mana to ensure I didn’t face plant.
Damien Moonguard
Mana 19/25
“Uh… stand back,” I said, and everyone backed up. “Come here Jark. He repairs for free, minus mana. I can upgrade him. I’ll leave the option to you, Tarla.”
“What’s the upgrade for?” she asked.
“Not sure. Let me fix his finger first,” I said.
I selected yes to repair and felt the spell leave my soul. Tendrils of black magic swirled around his finger until the waves lifted the bone, flying it to his hand. A small explosion of black magic transpired when the finger reattached and then the problem was fixed.
“Why are you giving her the choice?” Bell asked with a raised eyebrow.
“If I upgrade him and he grows horns?” I asked with a hypothetical.
Instead of arguing, Bell waited to see what Tarla did. The redhead spoke in hushed tones with her brother. He ran to grab a stick and drew ‘upgrade please’ in the gray mountainside.
Tarla nodded, and I sent my aura to wrap him again. When I mentally highlighted the option and selected yes, he collapsed into a pile of bones.
A tornado of black magic pushed us back. The bones clattered with violent shaking. I saw the bones swell ever so slightly and then, as quick as the tornado arrived, it disappeared.
Jark’s bones reconnected and he stood a wee bit taller and thicker than before.
Minion: Jark.
Health 11/11. Level 2
Sapient Human.
Memories intact.
Fighting Abilities: Weak.
Upgrade Available. Consume 61 mana and 21.05 Zorta (YES) or (NO)
“I guess he can level from killing mobs. Spoiler, its stupid expensive. I need to increase my mana to even get him to level three and then it’s over twenty Z. So… How the hell am I supposed to go home if everything consumes all my savings?” I asked with a sigh.
“All champions who vanish in the book do so after many years, Damien. I’d temper your expectations of going home right away,” Bell said sadly.
“We’re here to help,” Tarla said. Jark drew in the dirt again. “He says thank you and wanted to say the raft is ready.”
“We have everything ready to go on the horses. Time to continue this journey,” Bell said.
I nodded and hefted my pack onto my back. Our trek for a new home was beginning, and I had to hope it went smooth.
CHAPTER 15
Foothills of the Targee Mountains
“I’m not following,” Tarla replied, having to skip a step to keep up with my longer stride.
She glanced up to Bell who perched on the platform of the skeleton horses. Both ladies looked worn out from our aggressive pace since leaving the bear kill. The horses had helped, staying ahead of our walk with all our gear stored neatly.
“Don’t look to me for an answer. I haven’t a clue what he means by ascended dreams,” Bell said, letting her feet dangle.
The wooden planks groaned when two people were carried, hence me walking and Tarla trying to keep up. I really felt like we were being pursued. We had no proof and Jark never found anyone, but I still had that sixth sense of eyes on my back.
I shook the feeling, enjoying the early morning sun rising for the fifth day of the trip.
Each morning, I would wake up on my isolated side of the surprisingly soft, bear-furred mat. I would prepare the fire and then sort the loot from Jark. Most mornings it was a bunny or squirrel. This morning, there had been no prize to greet me.
Tarla would light the fire, I would cook the prepared kabobs that Jark had ready, and then we would start an early day march at sunrise. This morning was no different.
The old miner’s road had become our guiding trail. This far from Karn’s Kingdom resulted in the wilds reclaiming the once worn path. Thin trees tried to block out the morning rays and failed allowing for a pretty and bright summer morning.
A gentle breeze pushed thick underbrush that dominated the rough terrain between the pines. I kept my head on a swivel and only a few critters fled from our march north. Occasionally, we would pass steep drop offs or long slides of treeless slopes.
Not once did I see the demarcation line of where Nordan transitioned into Ostriva.
To pass the time, I asked Tarla what she dreamed of becoming when she grew up. Then I had to say it was a concept from Earth which translated into ascended. She found the concept odd.
I decided to clarify. “On Earth, there’s no transition into a magic class. I’m not a healer on Earth, nor would I ever have been.”
Tarla frowned and said, “But you tell us there is magic on your ascended realm.”
“Yes, technological magic. We have a saying; if something defies logic, but exists, it must be magic. And also; magic is simply science that is not understood yet. Or some such,” I told them with a shrug.
“Lots of sayings from this ascended realm. I can maybe understand your question then. I wanted to be a fire mage. I became a fire mage. I dreamed of a big house, a single husband, and ten children. I’d breed war mounts and be really good at it. The fire mage was a stepping-stone to reach my goal,” Tarla said. She glanced up at me and asked, “And you?”
“Ah, see, that’s what I was after. I wanted to be a pilot,” I said, and they frowned. “A gryphon rider but one that can carry hundreds of people. I see you both growing confused. Just pretend they exist where they’re really long and can hold a whole bunch of people.
“Pilot school required years of rigorous training. I had studied all the work that it would take and then gave up before ever trying. I didn’t want to subject myself to that much effort. Happiness was always my goal.”
“Children?” Bell asked.
“Yeah, one day. I was waiting for the right time,” I lied.
Children would be one of those life decisions I fully expected to kick down the road until I could say, ‘Sorry we didn’t act sooner.’ Of course, that was assuming I even found a girl I’d let get attached.
Then again, that was the old me. Now, I had an excuse ready to go.
“Right now, there’s likely assassins going down river to find our raft against the riverbank. Could you imagine having a baby with us while trying to stay silent?” I asked.
A snicker from the rocky bend in the road ahead resulted in me skidding to a halt.
A centaur left a cut in the hillside on the right. He tossed Jark onto the road, and my skeleton scout bound tightly in rope.
“These fools are so loud. Wait to see how they react before you reveal yourselves. He is likely not from Nordan,” the centaur said.
This variation was tall, at least two heads higher than me. A crown of antlers adorned the elder male’s head. His shirtless body reminded me of a dad body, and his horse body held a bit of a chunk to it too. A gray beard stretched down to his belly button, and his hands rested on daggers attached to a stomach bandoleer.
I stuck my hands up slowly.
While his physique may not have been intimidating, the four other centaurs leaving their hiding spots with magic dancing across fingertips gave me pause
. Each of them looked ready to cast, and they caught us by surprise.
“We should surrender,” Bell said.
“What is she saying?” a younger centaur demanded angrily. “They’re plotting a counter-attack. I know it, father. We must kill them now.”
“He’s a necromancer. How many times do I have to tell you, Zeedodan? Not all humans are from Nordan. See, look at his eyes, He understands what I’m saying,” the leader said.
He had a point. I glanced up to see Bell and Tarla confused by the two centaurs interacting.
“Hello,” I said, not moving much.
“By the goddess,” Bell blurted.
“What did the ugly one say?” Zeedodan asked.
While I wanted to argue that Bell was pretty, I held in my snippy retort.
With a smile, I said, “I didn’t realize you were in charge.”
This landed its mark. The youth went red and the leader chuckled.
“Greetings, necromancer. Welcome to our range. I’m Perqueta,” he said with a pleasant greeting.
“I see my scout failed me,” I told him.
The lack of understanding overwhelmed Tarla. “What are you saying?” she asked in confusion.
“I’m going to need you both to be quiet, please,” I said and then glanced at Perqueta. “They’re just curious to hear what we’re saying. Exactly like Zeedodan is trying to understand what the ladies are saying.”
Most of the centaurs accepted this without much pushback.
“Where is your army, ‘mancer?” Perqueta asked, taking his arms off his dagger hilts. The centaur then folded his arms across his chest.
I placed my hands on my hips and said, “I just escaped confinement, a confinement for far too long. These are my loyal human servants who helped me escape. We tried to trick our pursuers about five days back by building a raft and ditching it. After that, we fled on this road, and well, now I’m before you.”
Okay, that was a huge lie with some truths. However, it wasn’t like he could prove it. The story might also explain my lack of an army and aged appearance. I smiled, seeing if my charisma would help sell the fib.
“Humans imprisoned you?” he asked with a squinting gaze.
“The bastards sure did. Unfortunately, my revenge had to wait. We escaped without me razing the city. Soon, though. Soon I’ll be powerful enough to burn Tarb to the ground,” I said with an evil laugh.
“That’s excellent news. We ourselves have had to constantly fight humans after the tresca pushed us up and out of our native forest. These thin pines are inferior, and the soil less fertile, but we manage. Would you be willing to give your word that your servants will behave while we discuss?” he asked.
I bobbed my head up and down. “Certainly. What did you wish to talk about? We have humans following us, so progress matters.”
A smaller centaur came charging from the way we came. Perqueta waited for him to arrive before he asked, “And their trail?”
“I diverted the path this morning and made it appear as if they went east. Based on the tracks, just the three alive and three undead,” the scout reported.
“Signs of pursuit?” Perqueta asked.
The young scout shook his head.
“Not hot on their hooves. Well, whatever hooves humans have. Did you check his Ostriva score?” the scout asked.
“I only have a hundred points for Nordan,” I said. “Had to kill a cellmate trying to steal my power. Since then, I have 1500 Ostriva points. I was telling your leader I just escaped a long confinement and am rebuilding my army for revenge, a revenge he wants to see happen.”
“Ha! My apologies. No Nordanian speaks flawless Strivian,” the scout said. “Did you offer the trade yet?”
Ah, and now the reason for our talk is revealed.
“In due time, Ubrinsi. Go further afield. Ensure no humans are led to our home,” Perqueta said, and the centaur scout galloped away.
The leader bent down, removing the vines that bound Jark. The skeleton ran to his sister with arms out defensively. His attempts to keep them at bay would be minimal and this amused the centaurs greatly.
Their boisterous laughter put the ladies on edge.
“You killed her lover to claim her as a servant wife. Wise. Come with me. I have a proposal. Your scout is scentless where we… stink,” Perqueta said, walking away to the downhill slope.
Walking over to Tarla I scooped her up and on over my shoulder. “Follow me,” I commanded, and the skeletons obeyed.
I followed him and said in what I had figured was English but was probably Nordanese, “We’re being treated to a meal and an offer. He needs a necromancer, I think.”
“What did you tell them to make them not kill you on sight?” Bell asked.
“Apparently, humans lived on Ostriva too, but they were just rare. Necromancers were among them. I speak perfect Strivian, so I passed,” I said with a shrug.
“That’s it?” Tarla asked in surprise. “And why are you carrying me?”
“Uh…” I set her down. “I wanted to grab your butt?”
“That’s not it. You didn’t even grab my ass. What did you tell them? That I’m your sex toy or something?” Tarla asked accusingly.
I winced and said, “You’re my servants. We escaped a dungeon. Jark was your husband, and now you're my slave wives. We’re a big happy family!”
My sarcastic spin of trying to make the most of the situation fell flat.
“Everything okay?” Perqueta asked.
“I said this was cause for celebration. They didn’t share my enthusiasm,” I said with a shrug.
“It’s natural for females to be sour. Our breeders are the worst,” he replied with a scrunched face. “The nipping for feed is the worst.”
The further we went downhill, the thicker the trees became both in girth and sheer numbers.
No one said much, and even though it was only a fifteen-minute walk from the road, we would have never known what we bypassed if they had left us alone. We walked around thickets, over a creek with a few fallen trees for a bridge, and even passed a small, dilapidated barn.
Eventually, we weaved through the growing pines until we arrived at a wooden wall twice my height. Yew Wood came to mind, minus the church and smokestacks. The interior held gardens, and I saw a centaur chasing a young female horse and tried to remember their appropriate title.
A few mares roamed, and while I saw plenty of male centaurs, I saw no females. I grew confused, but I had to fake like I expected this. While I continued to glance around, I noticed a few hastily constructed overhangs that provided shelter from the rain.
The entire village reminded me of something temporary. Eventually, I saw a pregnant mare and no male horses. As disturbing as it was, these strivians wore no pants, so it was easy to tell the sexes apart. Bell understood a few seconds after me.
“They have no female centaurs because they’re a male only race and use horses as females,” she somewhat blurted out in dismay.
Zeedodan glanced at me, and I said, “She expected to see bare breasted female centaurs tending to babes. I let it be a surprise.”
This too amused them greatly and boisterous laughter drew the attention of the young boys. A scuffle from the side revealed one of our escorts mounting an unsuspecting mare, all while giving a throaty laugh. The scene became x rated, and I quickly averted my eyes.
We certainly weren’t in a Nordan society anymore.
“Your home is adequate,” I told them in a proud tone.
“Adequate indeed. We’re simple centaurs. Come, the firepit is our favorite spot. I’d offer you a meal but know you already ate,” Perqueta said, leading us around the only actual building which was a hastily repaired farmhouse.
A trio of young colts scraped up the ashes of a dead fire, bringing fresh sticks. The mares meandered, doing nothing more than being penned inside the walls. The only sort of productivity I saw was a bowyer on the porch of the farmhouse.
With most of the centaurs
having magic, I guessed it wouldn’t matter much if they had steel armor and a smithy for swords.
I walked to a spot around the fire and stood. Bell and Tarla stationed themselves behind me and stayed close. Jark and the mares stayed outside the circle.
“As we need, we shall be seated,” Perqueta ordered, and the assembled group laid their horse bodies down. Their top half sat just as poised and upright as I did. All throughout the village, others sat even if not by the fire. Clearly his words held reverence. “And so shall we recover.”
His hands swirled fire, and a second later flames crackled over the fire pit.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” I said, situating myself. “Now, how may I be of service?”
He pointed to Jark. “That one ran into our ambush, and I mean he literally walked into me. I never sensed or heard him. Of course, I knew what he was the second he stumbled into me.”
“Ah, yes, he catches small animals unaware,” I said with a nod of agreement.
“We have neighbors that we rarely agree with. The yabii are a race of two leggers, akin to humans. They find our mates to be offensive. If we don’t sex mares, our sons will never be born. We try to trade new females for bows or whatever they want, but they refuse. The yabii have captured my…” his face flamed a tad red. “My favorite lover.”
A few of the centaurs sneered or smiled evilly at his reveal.
Ah, they are ashamed he loves an animal. Makes sense why the earlier display was so brazen. There are centaurs and centaurs only in this village. The rest are warm slots to breed new centaurs, and the mares are merely that. Breeding tools.
Did I want to perpetuate the cycle? No, no I did not. Unless.
“Alright, you want a single mare broken out of the yabii lands?” I asked directly.
“Any will do. The more females we have, the stronger my herd becomes,” he said, receiving nods from the others. “That skeleton will be capable of sneaking into places we simply cannot go.”
I nodded, understanding the basics. “And the trade?”