by J. T. Wright
“No harm,” Martin assured Trent. “But you should be careful. You must be new in town. Come to join the Academy?”
“Academy? No.” This was the first time Trent had heard the word.
“Then you’re here for the Dungeon? Tell you what, I have been meaning to make a delve myself. Why don’t we look out for one another?” The Dungeon would be the perfect place to relieve the Swordsman of his equipment. No one questioned what happened to Adventurers inside a Dungeon.
“The Trial? Maybe some other time. I have a Quest.” Trent started to walk away, and Martin fell in beside him.
“Then it’s the Guild you want! I can show you the way, and after you turn in your Quest…” Martin could taste the money Trent was going to give him. Calling a Dungeon a Trial? The kid was even newer to the Adventurer’s life then Martin had thought. He hadn’t picked up the slang and terminology yet. He was as green as a sapling could be.
“I'm not going to the Guild. I’m headed for the Wilds,” Trent interrupted absently. His attention was completely on the grilled meat a nearby stall was selling. He stopped and asked the stall owner how much a meal cost. He had not had hot food for so long his mouth filled with saliva at the thought of biting into the sizzling meat.
Martin waited patiently as Trent was informed a wooden skewer cost a copper. Martin had to reach up and hold his nose. The twitching had gotten worse when Trent asked if the stall owner had change for silver. The answer was yes, but only if the Swordsman bought twenty coppers worth of meat.
Martin’s twitching settled down when Trent produced a coin from nowhere. The Thief’s suspicions were confirmed when Trent kept two skewers in his hands and made eighty coppers and eighteen portions of meat disappear. What were the odds of running into a rich fool with Storage?
Storage was a problem. What the kid carried looked expensive, but his real valuables would be out of reach. Anything in Storage was safe from a Thief’s fingers, even in death. Torture might work, but he would need to get Trent alone and far from listening ears for that. But then hadn’t the kid said…
“You’re going to the Wilds alone? Dangerous that! Let me guide you, I can show you the best hunting spots!”
“Have to go alone,” Trent said around a mouthful of the most delicious food he’d ever tasted. “I have a Quest.”
Martin’s twitch traveled from his nose to his shoulders and down to his fingers. This kid was Martin’s lucky star! Stupid, rich, and heading to his own mugging without complaint. “Well, a Quest is a Quest, far be it from me to interfere. Let me show you the way to the edge of the Dungeon’s domain. No, I insist! The name is Martin Vane. I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends!”
**********
Nothing Trent could say dissuaded Martin from coming along, and he didn’t try that hard. Trent was not sure if the last week counted towards his Quest. The description in his Status specified the Wilds as the place he had to survive, and the Al’dross territory hardly qualified. There was no harm in letting Martin tag along. It was only a few miles anyway. The Trial at Bellrise was a minor one. Its domain extended no further than a man could walk in an hour or two.
Martin walked beside Trent and chatted away in his weedy voice. He asked Trent all about his Class and Level and slipped in questions about Trent’s equipment as naturally as he was able. Trent deflected the questions when he could and was vague about the rest. The word soul-bound never crossed his lips. He had learned his lesson there.
Trent found Martin’s queries a little intrusive, but harmless. The man talked as if a partnership between them was a done deal, and Trent wasn’t opposed to that idea. His current Quest said he had to be alone, but he was considering clearing the Bellrise Trial eventually. When he did, it would be best to bring someone along, and Martin was friendly enough.
A little too friendly, really. They had reached the beginning of a forest, and Martin showed no sign of turning back.
“I think I can make my way from here,” Trent suggested.
Martin looked over his shoulder. Bellrise could still be seen a few miles away, and this spot was a little too exposed for what Martin had in mind. “I’ll stay with you a little longer. You said you’d be gone two weeks, yeah? I should know what direction you’re headed in, just in case you don’t show up on time. Might as well start looking out for each other now, right?”
Trent grunted, but said nothing as he continued walking and Martin followed. When Trent left the road and started down an animal trail, Martin made another excuse. He would tag along until Trent made camp for the night. Never fun to sleep in a new place without a familiar face nearby, right? In the morning, Trent would have his feet under him, and Martin would head back.
Trent picked up the pace. Steady Footing made his feet sure, but Martin kept up without any difficulty. Trent hadn’t asked the man about his Class and Level and was beginning to think he should have. There was only one major Trial in the Al’dross Barony, and as quickly as Martin moved, he should have been in Al’drossford, not Bellrise.
Martin was starting to get a little annoyed. This kid wasn’t bright, but his eyes were sharp. Trent noticed his every movement, and when Martin closed in, he always found a silver mask turning his way. While he thought he could take the boy in a straight fight, accidents happened in those situations, and Martin did not want to risk killing Trent, not before the Swordsman emptied his Storage.
This was it! Trent was distracted by something. Martin drew a knife from behind his back. Angle the blade downwards through the hole in the boy’s armor, and nothing vital would be struck. It would put Trent on the ground, though, and then it would be easy to disable his limbs. Shit, why was he speeding up?
Trent was distracted! There was something off about those two trees on either side of the trail. They weren’t like any of the others around. Their needles ended in silver tips, and… was that frost at the base of their trunks? He broke into a jog, eager to explore the mystery, and his Perception Attribute missed seeing the blade that swept by his back.
The kid wanted to make things hard? Martin was willing to play along. That hole in his shoulder was a good target as well, and Martin could hold Trent still while he inserted his knife! Quiet feet drew close as Trent stepped between the two trees. A flicker of light and the boy vanished!
What!? Had he been playing Martin for a fool? Unless Trent had been lying, a Swordsman did not have enough Mana for a Skill like Blink or a Spell like Teleport! Martin whirled and stepped back. He searched for his walking pot of gold and his back stiffened at what he found.
The forest behind him had changed. Night had fallen, and Martin could see from the moonlight that frost coated the ground. A full moon? That was wrong as well. It was weeks until the next full moon. Even the trail they had been walking down had shifted and changed.
Martin was standing in the brush, and the nearby path had widened as if whatever used it was bigger and heavier than a common woodland animal. The twitch in Martin’s nose wasn’t caused by an opportunity this time. Now his nose quivered from a more primal instinct that said he was fucked.
Martin turned in a slow circle to find Trent behind him. The boy was just standing there, and as far as Martin could see, he was staring at a tree with silver bark. The tree was unusual but given the situation not worth close study. Martin had the perfect chance to plunge his knife into Trent but lowered it instead. He might need the boy a little longer.
Trent wasn’t looking at the odd-colored tree. He had noticed it and Herbalism wanted him to take a closer look. More specifically, Herbalism wanted him to examine the green vine with its silver petals that curled around the trunk of the tree, but for the moment, Trent was absorbed is his Status. He was reading a message only he could see.
You have entered a Trial, The Moonlit Forest.
Chapter Four
Junior Guardsman Tersa was on wall cleaning detail. It was a task she had been assigned every day directly following morning drill for a week. A week! It wa
sn’t fair! She should be sparring with her squad! She should be going on patrols, fighting bandits and Beasts. She was supposed to be Sergeant Cullen’s personal protégé!
Technically, the Sergeant had said project, not protégé, but Tersa was sure he had misspoken. The Sergeant was always doing that, saying one thing when he meant another. He was back to calling her Idiot again. He said, “Idiot,” but Tersa heard, “Your Divinity,” just like that time at the temple.
Behind her, the Corporal assigned to supervise her yawned. The man covered his mouth with one hand and then tossed a handful of dirt into the wall with the other.
“You missed a spot, Junior Guardsman! Pay attention to what you’re doing!” The Corporal barked a command that turned into another yawn.
The yawn was a result of Tersa’s “training.” She had Calming Presence activated. She always had the Skill running these days. She was supposed to keep it active until its Level was higher than her Enraging Aura.
In battle, Calming Presence could counter fear-inspiring Skills. It could hold a group together in the face of overwhelming odds; on wall cleaning detail, it made Corporals yawn. The constant yawning was annoying. The dirt throwing; that was just plain mean.
Tersa scrubbed harder with her brush. She did not mutter under her breath or swear at the Corporal. Every time she did that, they gave her a smaller tool to clean the wall with. At first, she was handed a scrub brush that she held with both hands. She suspected her current implement was meant for adding fine details to paintings.
An object moved between Tersa and the sun, casting a heavy shadow over her. “Junior Guardsman, you will join your squad for unarmed combat.”
The rumbling sound of Sergeant Cullen’s voice was music to Tersa ears! She threw her paintbrush down and spun on her heels. “Bloody Flaming Shit, Sergeant! It’s about time!”
Tersa chose this moment to test out a new expletive. She got the weirdest looks when she shouted her preferred war cry. Judging from the way Cullen’s eyes narrowed, her new catchphrase was not a hit. The Sergeant didn’t even look at her discarded brush.
She ducked down and retrieved the tool, tucking it in her belt behind her back, safely out of sight. “I mean, yes, Sergeant! Right away, Sergeant!”
“With me, Idiot.” Cullen waved for Tersa to follow and led the girl to where her squad was standing in a circle on the training grounds. “You will be facing Junior Guardsman Vinson. You may both begin when you are ready, by which I mean immediately!”
Tersa hurried into the circle and squared off against her assigned opponent. Vinson was a full foot and a half taller than Tersa, and heavily muscled. He was the best unarmed fighter in the squad, and no one else ever volunteered to face him.
Tersa would have volunteered! Vinson was the perfect opponent for her. Once she ground him into the dirt, the others would accept her! She had not made any friends among her squad yet. They hardly spoke to her unless it was required. Now she could show them what she could do!
Vinson had the Grappler Class. It was why he was acknowledged as the best close fighter in the squad. If he got a hold of you it was all over. Tersa wasn’t going to let the bastard touch her.
She had heard the others talking. Vinson was slow, they said. All you had to do was keep your distance and the Grappler was finished. He had a Specialized Class and excelled at unarmed combat, but so what? Tersa had an Advanced Class and had spent weeks learning from Sergeant Cullen himself!
Now was her time to shine! That was the thought that ran through her head as she directed a low kick to Vinson’s knee. Soften him up with a few hits to the legs, put him off balance, make him angry, and it was all over. Vinson was good at brawling, but Tersa was the champ when it came to making people angry!
How had Vinson got a hold of her leg? The pissing bastard was tall; she hadn’t kicked high! Why was she being swung around? How had her arm gotten twisted behind her back? Had the dirt always tasted this bitter?
This could not be happening! She must have dozed off while cleaning the wall! Sure, her Level said 1, but she had the Attributes of a Level 25! She had an Advanced Class! Vinson should be kissing her boots and begging for mercy!
Attributes… Tersa pulled up her Status. There it was, there was the problem! She had the Attribute Points, 65 of them, but she had never spent them! Vinson let go of her arm at Cullen’s direction, and Tersa rose to her feet.
“Pathetic, Junior Guardsman….” Cullen began.
“Hush,” Tersa held up her hand, palm out towards the Sergeant. Collectively, Tersa’s squad, including Vinson, stepped back and wished they were anywhere else. Blood rushed to Cullen’s face as he drew a deep breath.
Tersa was focused on her Status. She needed to be faster. 20 Points to Agility. Strength would be good too; she had heard that Strength played a role in speed, another 20 Points there. 10 Points to Dexterity, to help with her dueling wand practice. 10 Points to Intelligence and 5 Points to Wisdom!
She wanted to throw a bunch of Points into Constitution, but her new Class used magic, speed, and Strength. She had to Shore up a few of her weak spots. She should have done this weeks ago! If she had spent the Points when she got them, that runty bastard she used to spar with would have never laid a finger on her!
“I'm ready now, Sergeant! Let’s go, you piss drinking…” Tersa balled her fists and took a step towards Vinson. The earth swayed and bucked beneath her. Was the bastard using magic? That was cheating! Tersa found herself face down, fighting to hold back a stomach that wanted to crawl out through her mouth.
Sergeant Cullen squatted down next to her. “Junior Guardsman, did you just spend a significant portion of saved Attribute Points?” Tersa’s nose dug a trench in the dirt as she nodded.
“I thought so, Idiot!” Cullen straightened up. “Listen close! At some point, you may be tempted to save Points gained from leveling. You may gain a new Class and want to wait and see what that Class requires of you. This is smart!”
Cullen glowered and looked around to make sure he had everyone’s attention. He did. Except for Tersa, who couldn’t raise her head, every eye and ear were focused on him.
“What is not smart is spending a great deal of hoarded Attribute Points all at once! A change in your Attributes is a change in your body! A change that requires adjustment! This is a lesson Junior Guardsman Tersa is currently learning! To make sure you all learn it as well, you will do laps until she recovers! Pace yourself, Guardsmen, you are going to be running for a while! Move out!”
The assembled squad jogged off. They began muttering and complaining once they thought they were a safe distance away. They were wrong, but Cullen let it go. This time their bitching wasn’t about him but directed at the redhead who was drooling on the ground. Tersa had not won herself any friends today.
This wasn’t working. Cullen’s usual methods were not getting through to the girl. It was time to try something new. Tersa was a dull blade that cried out for an edge. Cullen knew the perfect sharpening stone for the job.
**********
Tersa immersed herself in Calming Presence. She had to feel the peace. She had to feel the serenity. She had to pissing figure out how to escape!
When Cullen had led her to her current location, she was sure she was going back to wall cleaning detail. When he took away her brush, she thought she had been demoted to latrine cleaning, a task she would probably be expected to perform with her tongue. She was sure she had heard rumors of a Recruit who had upset the Sergeant so much that the Recruit had choked to death doing just that.
What Cullen intended for Tersa was worse. He was planning on getting her executed! The crusty, old, whoreson had set her up. She should not be in this room. Guardsmen were not allowed here! Guardsmen stood watch outside, but even officers never stepped in!
This was the Duke’s personal practice hall. Mirrors lined the wall to Tersa’s left. On her right was a row of incredibly lifelike training dummies. These were not the wooden posts that Guardsmen used but re
plicas of the human form that Tersa suspected moved and responded to attacks.
The unseeing eyes of those dummies drilled into Tersa. They were just waiting for her to move. They wanted her to touch the expensive-looking weapons that hung from the wall in front of her. When she did, she was sure the mechanical men would be revealed as Guardians that would pounce on her!
She wasn’t falling for that shit! She understood any single object in this wide hall was worth more than she made in a year. In ten years! Sergeant Cullen probably expected her to break something. That was why he made her wait in this lonely room.
If she were discovered here, the Duke would have her confined for a few months, but that wouldn’t be enough for the Sergeant! He wanted her to break a mirror or handle a weapon, commit some offense that would send her to the headsman!
She wouldn’t give the Sergeant the excuse he was looking for. Tersa could stand still! She didn’t need to touch that axe, even if it did look more impressive that her Cleaver. She wanted to poke at the eyes of the watching dummies. They wouldn’t blink! Gods how she wished they would blink.
Tersa’s toe tapped. At her side, her hand twitched. She peeked out of the corner of her eye at the lifeless watchers. Her tongue poked out to taunt them. She wasn’t afraid! Maybe a little punch on their stupid jaws would show them how unafraid she was!
When a soft cough sounded behind her Tersa leapt three feet into the air. She had been caught! She hadn’t even touched anything yet! Could a Guardsman be executed for thinking inappropriately?
“Careful, you'll hurt yourself jumping around like that lass,” a chuckling voice said. Tersa’s feet found the floor, and she turned to see who had been sent to apprehend her.
She expected a Senior Guardsman. She found a thin, balding man, slightly stooped, carrying a large pack over one shoulder. What was left of the man’s hair was grey and gave the impression it could turn white at any moment. He had a certain dignity about him, but he appeared frail. He was not the kind of person you sent to arrest a young Guardsman at her peak!