Arrival

by William Dickey

  “Killed Tigerpupil and Dingomange,” answered the woman.

  “A shame,” said the old man. “We will send a messenger to notify families. But men are lost in battle didn’t need to bring here just to make an example.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “No,” said the woman. “Killed with this.” She passed the old man one of my spears. The old man examined it carefully, rubbing his weathered fingers across each surface.

  “Ahh,” said the old man. His eyes gleamed as if finding a surprise treasure. “Where did get it from?”

  “Says made it,” said the woman.

  “Made it,” the old man repeated. The man reached down and examined my hands and arms. “Doesn’t look like smith.”

  “That’s what said,” said the woman. “So we take. Could be of use.”

  “Hell no,” I cut in. “I won’t help you.”

  “Acting as if have choice,” said the old man.

  I looked back at the giant heap of bodies. ‘All these men were killed by these people. And all they did was work hard in the fields, the mines, the shops. They were good people building simple lives, enjoying simple pleasures. And these savages waltz in, slaughter them, and take everything in sight.’

  A rage burned deep in my chest. “I won’t end up with you,” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  I started laughing. Just a little at first, but soon it was loud enough for half the town to hear. The crowd of beastmen stared at me as if I had gone mad. ‘They just don’t get it yet,’ I said to myself. I reached into my pocket for my way out. I reached for the ultimate fallback for any game character. I pulled out a steel cylinder.

  “Stop,” the woman shouted, but it was too late.

  I tapped the button on the side of the cylinder. The spear point sprang out, piercing the bottom of my mouth and jamming into my brain. Again, I died. Before everything faded away, I glimpsed a new message.

  You deal extra damage for striking a vital point.

  Congratulations! Double experience for scoring a one hit K.O.

  You gained 214 EXP

  ‘Apparently I get experience for self-kills.’

  Chapter 12: Aftermath

  “Pay attention,” Izusa commanded after two of her men accidently dropped a barrel full of sweet wheat as they carried it through the hole in the fence. “Salvage every grain possible. We can’t let any of that food go to waste.”

  A couple of hulking beastmen bent low to recover the spilt grain. “And don’t let it happen again or take it from rations,” she finished.

  Izusa was in a foul mood. She had chosen to spare the brat who killed Tigerpupil and Dingomange, yet he had so casually taken his life anyway. ‘What sort of madness could inspire that? Courage or stupidity?’ Izusa wasn’t really angry that she’d been outplayed by a human, although that was bad enough, she was angry that she’d lost her chance, that someone who might know something about the † symbol was now dead.

  Izusa knew she was being too hard on the men. They had after all succeeded in their mission. Ninety beastmen took a town of 1000. Sad as it was, she had only lost eight men, a good trade by anyone’s measure. Many more were injured but all would be well enough to travel in a few days.

  In the past two days, Izusa’s men busied themselves with harvesting. Several clans of the Othal Confederation were in dire need of supplies and they were ordered to seize all food and weapons. Izusa also had her men take all the carts and carriages they could get their hands on even going so far as to construct more as needed. The Othans didn’t typically use carts but they were the only way so few could transport the plentiful harvest acquired in this raid. To pull the carts, all horses, cattle, and other beasts of burden were requisitioned as well. In the end, the survivors of Mill Valley would be left with very little.

  While they were there, the Othans stayed in buildings nearest the breach. Izusa stationed guards to watch the survivors holed up in their emergency shelter around the clock. As far as Izusa was concerned, they could stay there and keep whatever supplies they had inside. Trying to take the fortified bunker would be difficult with their numbers and her men had more than their fill with the rest of the town.

  “Capsain, to the north,” called out a man surveying from a nearby rooftop. The man pointed to the northern skies and Izusa followed eagerly with her eyes to where the man indicated. Sure enough, there in the sky, she could see a small black spot steadily approaching.

  ‘Talia must be returning,’ Izusa figured. She’d sent Talia, a hawkwoman, as soon as they’d taken the town. Izusa needed to report the success of the mission and ask for further directions, namely where exactly to take the spoils. Every Othan company had a few aerial members. They were perfect for scouting and relaying messages.

  As the flying spot got closer, Izusa realized she was mistaken. It was not a hawk coming in but something much bigger, a large flying reptile, a wyvern. Wyverns were similar to dragons except in three respects: dragons were larger, smarter, and capable of using magic. Wyverns were little more than winged reptilian horses. Next to the wyvern flew a considerably smaller Talia who Izusa could recognize from the bright yellow streak going across the center of the hawk’s tail feathers.

  The pair flew to where the carts of supplies were gathered. As they neared the ground, they returned to their birth forms. As the wyvern shifted, the periodic bits of ebony armor rearranged itself into a standard set of plate mail trailed by a long sweeping cape. The wyvernman was middle aged and had short brown hair. His sharp cheekbones and chin were unusually thin for an Othan but that coupled with a confident spark in his dark eyes gave him a commanding presence.

  Next to him was Talia. She returned to her tall slender human form with long brown hair that matched the coloring of her hawk form. A nearby soldier handed her a robe with which to cover herself. Talia’s hawk form was too small to carry clothing along so when she shifted back she was naked. Talia really didn’t mind the nudity. She, like all Othans with small beast forms, had gotten used to the awkward moments when she returned to her birth form. However, it was too cold to go stark naked so Talia threw on the robe before calling to Izusa.

  “Capsain,” said Talia as she approached Izusa, giving a quick salute. The wyvernman followed beside her. Despite not being sure where they headed, the wyvernman was sure not to trail her. “This is Corsel Irving Dragontail.”

  A stunned Izusa hurriedly saluted the superior officer and wondered what in god’s name had brought him all this way to her small company.

  “Capsain Wolfclaw,” began Corsel Dragontail. “Congratulations on recent victory. Taking such a large town with so few men, must be commended.”

  “No, sir,” said Izusa. “Men did most of the work.”

  “Of course. Of course. All are commended,” said Dragontail.

  “Thanks, sir.” Izusa didn’t believe for a second that the Corsel would come so far just to commend her. “Sir, may ask where we are to bring the supplies?” Izusa knew this wasn’t important enough either for the Corsel to come here, but said it to hurry the conversation along.

  “Ah, to business then,” said Dragontail, straightening up. “Company ordered back to Monstone Pass, 50 kilometers south of Dewpoint. There join 406 other companies gathering to form the 1st battalion.”

  “400 companies,” Izusa exclaimed. Each company held around 100 men so 400 companies meant 40,000 men. Izusa had never heard of so many Othan troops operating together. They tended to fight in small raiding bands rather than armies.

  “Yes,” the Corsel confirmed in a proud voice. “In light of current circumstances, the Council has seen it fit to permanently expand Othal territory south. To this end, we are marshaling the largest host of troops in centuries. When reach Monstone Pass be ready to begin training exercises to suit our new organization. Understood?”

  “Yes sir,” said Izusa. “What about the supplies we have taken from this town?”

  “Bring it,” said Dragontail. “We’ll need
.”

  “And the survivors?” said Izusa.

  “Survivors?” Dragontail asked.

  “The humans who remain after we slew the warriors,” said Izusa.

  “Sort through. Take the mages and craftsmen with as slaves. Can be useful,” said Dragontail. “As for the rest, kill.”

  “Excuse,” said Izusa. She didn’t quite believe her ears. Izusa didn’t have any qualms with blood and death, but Othans fought and killed only what they needed for survival, as was the way of nature. They didn’t subscribe to slavery or wholesale slaughter.

  “Repeat. Enslave who can be useful, kill the rest,” said Dragontail in an even voice.

  “But sir-”

  “That’s an order,” he commanded softly. “This is war and our survival is at stake. We must make use of every resource at our disposal. We can’t risk word of our attack spreading to the rest of Xebrya. It’ll put on guard when the real fight begins which will cost even more lives, Othan lives.”

  Izusa remained silent. The debate was over. Her orders were clear. Izusa knew what she had to do and silently prayed the gods would forgive her.

  Lilith set down her pack in her room at the deserted inn. The cupboards had all been left open, chairs and tables had been overturned, and a great many things were missing. All signs indicated looting. Lilith sighed. Apparently, much had happened while she had been away.

  Over time, her search for ruins had taken her farther and farther from Mill Valley, forcing her to spend longer trips away from the mild comforts of this primitive civilization. This time she had been gone for 6 days. When she returned, the scene surprised her. A large hole in the town’s defenses and despite the mild snowing that had continued the past day, a large fire still burned in the heart of town. Even from the inn, she could make out the distinct smell of burning flesh. Lilith knew how to put two and two together. She knew what had happened.

  Lilith sat down on the hay mattress of her room in the inn. The innkeeper absent, the fire in the main hall had gone out long ago. The building was cold, but it was better than outside. She’d spend the night there and look for better lodgings in the morning.

  To that end, Lilith decided to make her report. She pulled out the black cubical communication device and set it on the ground at her feet.

  “Cube, open a channel back to command,” she said.

  Lilith waited for the cube to flicker to life and make the call. The light of the cube extended upward and to the shape of a man whose face was concealed by a large hood.

  “Lancepesade Lilith Demogorgon of the 16th Reconnaissance Division reporting in for a status update.”

  “We are ready for your report, Lancepesade,” the cloaked man replied.

  “I have finished searching grids 872 through 876. No ruins. No artifacts,” said Lilith.

  “Very well, Lancepesade, proceed to grid 877,” said the cloaked man.

  “Sir, on an unrelated matter, it seems my primary base of operations has been compromised. Sometime during my last outing, the northern savages have plundered the town and wiped out the populace. I seek a new primary,” said Lilith.

  “Hmm… This is the first we have heard of the beasts advancing beyond the outer rim. Things are advancing even faster than anticipated,” the cloaked man’s voice wandered off as he was preoccupied with other thoughts.

  “Sir?” she said.

  “Oh. Right,” said the man. “You can relocate to Hazel. It’s a village 30 miles southwest of your current location just on the other side of the mountains. Use that as your new staging point and resume the search with grid 877.”

  “Understood,” said Lilith.

  “Report back once you’ve searched grid 877 and settled in Hazel.” The man dimmed as he severed the connection.

  Lilith packed up the cube and went to bed. In the morning, she left the fallen town, forever leaving it and all of its skeletons behind.

  00: 00: 03…

  00: 00: 02…

  00: 00: 01…

  “I’m back,” I said to myself as the white light generated by each teleportation receded. I shivered and wrapped myself with my arms to try to keep warm. As always, I arrived with absolutely nothing, like a newborn babe. ‘I hope I don’t have to get used to this,’ I joked. ‘The first time I died because I was betrayed. This time it was a choice. Improvement?’ I tried to be optimistic. I was naked and afraid. Things could only go up.

  I looked around. ‘No wonder I’m so cold.’ The whole town was blanketed with six inches of white, a late winter dusting to wipe clean the horrors of last week. It was morning, yet there was no one on the streets.

  After dying, I’d been trapped in my body but unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to get much information. Shortly after my death, I was buried in a pile of dead bodies, which were summarily burned. After enduring a couple minutes of excruciating pain, I spent the rest of my time in a black void with nothing but a slowly ticking clock to keep me company. It may have only been a week but that torturous emptiness made it feel like months. I may be immortal but the horrors of that space would ensure I’d never die easily.

  ‘That’s strange,’ I thought as I looked around the vacant streets. Normally the citizens of Mill Valley rose with the sun, eager to capitalize on what daylight they had, but the events of the past week were far from normal. Many people had died. ‘Maybe they are staying indoors or are gathered elsewhere at some sort of mass funeral service.’

  The cold causes stats to decrease by 5%

  Until you get warmer, stats will continue to decrease.

  I didn’t need to wait for another system warning. I moved to the window of the nearest building and peered inside. The house was a wreck. Furniture was toppled. Cabinets were left open and empty. The place had been stripped clean of many things of value.

  The continuing cold causes stats to decrease by additional 5%

  Total loss due to cold: -10%

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reassured myself. ‘People died. Some houses are bound to be empty.’

  I went to the door and cleared away the snow blocking it. I needed to get out of the cold. My hands and feet stung as if a thousand needles were eviscerating them as the cold seeped throughout my fingers and toes. I had just removed the last of the snow when the third warning arrived.

  The continuing cold causes stats to decrease by additional 5%

  Total loss due to cold: -15%

  The compounding effects of the cold seemed to grow much faster when I didn’t have the benefit of clothing to keep warm.

  The inside of the house was better. At least there, I was protected from the wind and didn’t have bare feet in direct contact with snow. But, the air in the house was just as cold as outside so my crippled condition continued.

  I looked through what little remained in the stripped down house. All clothing was gone, even shoes. So, I made do with what I could find. I wrapped myself in a few sheets to form a toga. For added warmth, I stuffed the toga with hay from a bed, the thicker the clothing the better. For my feet, I wrapped a few strips of cloth around my feet for socks and used two planks of wood and some twine to make a pair of sandals. I know wearing socks with sandals is a fashion faux pas, but next to my hay stuffed toga, my feet were things of beauty.

  I went to the next house, then the next. Worry built with each vacant bespoiled building. It was all the same: damaged furniture, empty pantries, and no valuables.

  ‘They’re not here.’ After the sixth house, I finally admitted defeat. ‘Where is everyone? It has only been a week right? Someone should have started cleaning things up.’ I wandered the empty streets, looking through the windows as I passed, looking for some company in this ghost town.

  ‘The shelter,’ the thought suddenly struck me. ‘Of course, they’re all still hiding under town hall. That’s why there’s no one in town. After a large raid, they could have decided to play it safe and stay inside as long as possible. Or worse maybe the snow has barricaded them in and they need someone to dig them out
.’ I rushed down the few blocks to the shelter, struggling with each step as my feet sank deep in the pillowy snow.

  “There it is,” I whispered as I turned the final corner only to be stopped dead in my tracks by the gruesome site before my eyes. The shelter was gone, collapsed into a pile of rubble. A few crumbling beams remained upright, outlining the place it had once stood. The wood was black, covered in char. The building had been burned.

  ‘No. No,’ I tried to convince myself. ‘They can’t be dead. Not all of them.’ I clawed through the snow and debris. I had to know the truth. The cold ripped through my hands, ironically making every nerve burn but I ignored it, grasped a piece of blackened wood, and kept shoveling.

  Eventually I found something. My stomach churned vomiting up its contents, which in this case was nothing but its own digestive juices. The acid burned my throat and tongue, but I didn’t really feel it. My brain was too preoccupied with my discovery. The heat of the fire had burned away the flesh, ruining any hope of identification, but charred skeletons told a clear story.

  At my feet, beneath snow and ash, were the remains of two people one large the other small as they embraced each other. An image came to my mind of a mother and child being burned alive, clinging each other in terror as they reached their end. I cleared away the rest of the snow and debris revealing many more bodies and fragments thereof. I would never know how many died there. The fire had burned hot enough that in many places even the bones were reduced to ash, leaving behind nothing but a few blackened shards. It was a tragedy beyond the ability to imagine.

  I sat there stupefied by the horrific scene. The drips of vomit on my lips and chin froze solid and despite my clothing, I received more system warnings about the cold, but I didn’t care. I was completely adsorbed by the overwhelming sense of loss as all sense of time peeled away.