We came across another village the next day, but with it so close to the previous one, we avoided the place completely, skirting widely around it instead. It seemed we were in luck until the notes of harsh voices carried to us through the forest ahead. Recognizing the sound, I actually thought the encounter could be a fortuitous one.
The orcs of Runía were not like the ones I knew back home… um, in Arrika, I mean. Although they had become a part of ‘normal’ society there, here in Runía, the orcish people were apparently still quite savage and barbaric. Any we came across in the wilds would try to murder us on sight—or perhaps capture us for other purposes. Knowing this, I thought taking out a few of them might even improve our chances of survival.
Kyrah had no armor, and only the lone dagger I’d given her to ward off any danger. If these orcs were as well-armed and armored as they still tended to be back h—in Arrika, I could remedy both of those issues for her. At least if there weren’t too many of them.
Since she had no real stealth talents, I had Kyrah wait for me a fair distance away while I snuck up to take a peek at my quarry. Just as I suspected, the orcs were fairly bristling with weapons; swords both long and short, wicked-looking daggers, and even a spear was among their many armaments. Seeing only three of them to oppose me, I was practically drooling at the bounty. All I’d have to do was pry the gear from their corpses once I was done.
Keeping hidden in the brush, I took aim at the fiercest looking one of the trio and let loose my first arrow. The shaft hit him right where I’d aimed, slamming into the center of his chest and driving the orc to the ground. I’d hoped to get off a second shot, but the remaining pair sprang into action far faster than I anticipated.
Despite crouching behind the forest’s undergrowth, I cursed my rotten luck when both orcs charged right at me, obviously clued in to my location by retracing the path of my arrow’s flight. I was able to launch a hasty bolt before having to draw my blades, but it flew low, hitting one of them in the thigh. Fortunately, it was enough to slow his advance, and I was able to face off against the first orc one-on-one.
I wasn’t quite prepared for just how… massive the creature was. His arms rippled with tightly coiled muscle, and the sneer of disdain on his face put his long canines on display in a most unnerving manner. Yet I knew that my abilities were up to the task, so I attacked before he could strike at me first.
The skill he showed in parrying my blows was incredible. I’d been led to believe that the more primitive orcs lacked any real talent with weapons, relying on brute strength to overcome their opponents. Yet this orc batted aside my blades easily, demonstrating a level of skill I simply hadn’t anticipated. It took all I had to dodge out of the way of his counterattack, but when I did, I managed to wind up in the perfect position to end him.
My blade slid easily through his thick leather armor, passing between the orc’s ribs before I twisted the hilt sideways and ripped it free from his body. Although it wasn’t instantly fatal, the sudden shock of my blow sent him to the floor, and I whirled around in search of my final opponent.
Unfortunately, as I spun in place, I came face to face with him. Or, I should say, face to fist. Just as the orc’s form registered in my vision, the blur of his arm swinging towards me caught me cleanly. My sight went black, and the taste of blood filled my mouth as I crashed to the ground atop the orc I’d just slain, stunned and completely helpless.
I fumbled for my swords as I waited for the orc to strike again, but the killing blow never came. When I finally found my weapons and was able to stagger to my feet, the last orc lay dead in front of me, with Kyrah’s dagger lodged in his back. She’d left the safety of the cover I’d hidden her in to save my life, rescuing me from the consequences of my own stupidity. Despite her brave actions, Kyrah stared down at the bodies around us in horror, obviously overcome at having taken her first life.
“Than—” The trees around me began to spin, and I fell back to the floor again before I could finish expressing my gratitude.
I’m not sure how much time passed between that moment and when I was able to pry my eyes open again. As I did, the dark outlines of some strange rock formation filled my vision, quickly resolving into the shape of a small cavern. My entire face ached, and I could hardly breathe through my swollen and obviously broken nose, but I pulled myself into a seated position to take a quick look around.
That was a mistake.
The aching I felt shifted into searing pain when I turned my head just slightly towards the left. Everything above my neck throbbed in agony, protesting quite forcefully at the slight movement. The solid stone that surrounded me twirled precariously in my vision as I quickly set my head back down to rest on the bundled-up blanket beneath me.
“Don’t try to move,” Kyrah’s soothing voice pierced the darkness behind my tightly closed eyelids. “That orc got you really good; you’ll probably need to rest a bit more before you’re ready to get up again.”
Yeah, ya think?
Even in my pain, I felt a little bad for the overly sarcastic comment that popped into my head, but I was also grateful that I was still alive to even have such thoughts. However, I didn’t have the luxury of waiting around for my injuries to heal, so I asked Kyrah to fetch my backpack for me—well, it was really more like I begged her for it.
It took a bit of digging around before my fingers finally wrapped around the small pouch I was searching for. Among the many useful items Noxyl had packed away for me, it was perhaps the most valuable of all, especially at that moment. Pulling at the strings awkwardly, I managed to open the purse after a brief struggle and removed one of the little red gems that would solve all my troubles, or at least the most urgent of them.
Through the barely open slits of my eyes, I saw Kyrah glance at the healing crystal in confusion before I crushed it in the palm of my hand. She watched as the flakes of red dust dissolved into my skin, and I felt their power begin coursing through my veins almost instantly. Within seconds, the crystal’s healing power mended my shattered face, and I was able to breathe again. While I rubbed at my freshly healed skin, I took the opportunity to have a good look at my surroundings.
Just as my first brief glance had revealed, I was in a shallow cave, and I realized the only way I could have gotten there was for Kyrah to have dragged me through the forest herself. A million questions popped into my mind, wondering how she’d managed the feat, but Kyrah beat me to the punch.
“What was that?” Kyrah asked, still staring at my hand.
“The healing crystal?” I couldn’t understand her fascination with the rather mundane object.
“You have magic?” Her voice betrayed Kyrah’s complete sense of awe.
“Is that uncommon here?”
“The Nér-vrogan have destroyed all traces of the mystical arts; not even their servants are permitted to possess such things.” She seemed to finally regain a bit of her composure again. “I should have known you would; nothing else can explain how you were able to defeat Lady Vistaal.”
Well, now she was starting to piss me off again. I was completely capable of winning that fight with my skill alone, the fact that I carried enchanted blades had nothing to do with it.
“That stupid bitch practically ran herself onto my sword,” I countered somewhat more forcefully than I’d intended. “Magic didn’t enter into the equation.”
“So, your weapons are enchanted?” She glanced down reflexively at the blade around her own waist for a second before I could reply.
“Look, Kyrah,” that time I meant every bit of the biting tone I imparted to the word. “I’m good with my blades; the magic is just an extra fucking bonus.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” she murmured, pulling away from me as she spoke. “I just—well, the orcs, and then…”
Kyrah’s voice trailed off, but I got the point she was trying to avoid making.
I’d defeated Vistaal and her Sentinels easily, but three miserable fucking or
cs had nearly killed me. After taking down one of the supposedly invincible Nér-vrogan, that… lapse on my part must have seemed quite odd. Reconsidering how that fight had unfolded, I realized how badly I’d messed up; attacking the three of them by myself had been unwise.
Perhaps if I’d struck first from further away, I might have fared better. The distance alone would have given me a better chance of getting off a second or even third shot with my bow. Fighting the burly orcs at close range had been a stupid error on my part, one I realized wasn’t my first. If the last orc had used a weapon of any sort, it would have been the end of me. Luckily, he’d apparently been focused on trying to take me alive. I’d been too confident in my own abilities, far more than they truly warranted, and that misplaced sense of accomplishment had almost led to my death—again.
Almost all my battles had been won in spite of my own stupidity; the orcs were only the latest example. Whether it was wandering into the undead ruins, falling for Slade’s deception, or even my so-called victory over Vistaal, luck more than anything else had been my greatest ally. Since the moment I first stepped foot in Runía, I’d simply stumbled from one fuck-up to the next, all the while believing that it was my supposed skill that had kept me alive. Actually, my mistakes began even before Noxyl sent me here. Believing that I was ready for anything even remotely like this had been my first and most egregious error.
That was a tough notion for me to swallow, yet I gritted my teeth and let it settle in for a moment, finding nothing to dispute the painful realization. I’d been a complete fool, allowing my arrogance to place both my life and Kyrah’s in danger. But it was far too late for me to alter the path we were on, and with no other options available, all I could do was move forward—hopefully, more carefully and with a little bit more wisdom than I’d displayed so far.
“No, you’re right. I fucked up.” It was difficult to meet Kyrah’s gaze when I confessed my shortcomings to her. “I’ve been deluding myself for too long; I need to be much more cautious from now on.”
“Tell me about the magic,” Kyrah took my words in stride as she shifted slightly closer, focusing on the apparently rare nature of my possessions instead. Her gaze was full of wonder, and I couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to move past the uncomfortable subject of my ineptness.
“They were all gifts from… someone.” I refused to name the Goddess. Despite my newly found understanding of my own faults, she was still the cause of every evil that plagued me. “I don’t know their exact properties, but one of the daggers I carry leaves wounds that bleed badly, while the other boosts my defense.”
Kyrah’s eyes widened as I continued to list the details of my equipment for her.
“My swords are similar. One increases my offense while the other offers some added protection.” Her look of utter amazement only grew more pronounced with each and every revelation I made. “While my bow imparts added force to my arrows, and the armor I wear shields me from most harm.”
Although it obviously wasn’t quite so good at dealing with a clean punch to the face…
“You’re like some legend come to life,” Kyrah whispered as she glanced at each of the items I’d mentioned in turn.
With my realization of how badly I’d fucked up, I surely couldn’t claim to be anything even close to that. “No, I’m not. I’m just an idiot who’s finally discovered that she’s in way over her head, Kyrah.”
“You killed a Nér-vrogan, Ashíel,” Kyrah shook her head in denial of my protest. “Only the Gods or someone armed with powerful magic is capable of that. The Pantheon may not be able to aid us, but I can’t believe that you found your way here by accident. Clearly, you were sent here by one of them to save us, whether you’re willing to accept it or not.”
Oh, I know I was sent here by one of them, just not for the reason you suspect, honey.
“Kyrah, there’s more to my story than I’m willing to tell you right now,” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Maybe someday you’ll understand why I’m not what you think I am, but for now, please believe me when I say that I’m no savior. I’m doing a bad enough job keeping myself alive right now.”
“Maybe you’re not, at least right now.” She was obviously unwilling to give up on the idea of being rescued from the Nér-vrogan. “But I’m sure that in time you’ll become exactly what I think you are.”
I wished I had her sense of confidence, but right then, I wasn’t sure I’d survive another day, let alone live long enough to present any sort of threat to the Nér-vrogan empire. Kyrah sensed my waning confidence, and despite my recovery, she bundled me up in blankets and ordered me back to bed. I wasn’t about to protest—even if I couldn’t sleep, there was a great deal I needed to consider.
10
The peaceful quiet of the Pantheon’s retreat was shattered by the sound of splintering wood and crashing stone as the portal to their inner sanctum disintegrated. The thunderous noise was still echoing through the halls when it was followed by a shout of unbridled rage.
“What did you do to my daughter, Noxyl?!?”
Lord Uthalan hurried towards the sight of the disturbance, rushing through the hallowed passages in a manner he would have considered undignified under different circumstances. Ashíel’s sudden disappearance had flung the young Goddess into a frantic search, including frequent visits to Lady Death’s Realm, where Dreya had feared to discover the worst. Uthalan knew that if Noxyl had anything at all to do with the young woman’s mysterious absence, the full fury of Dreya’s wrath would be unleashed upon her; he only hoped to arrive in time to save the Pantheon from total destruction.
Owing to her… unique origins, Dreya was the only one of them who’d ever managed to conceive any children. Despite the aloof nature most of them displayed, Uthalan knew that most of the Pantheon had a soft spot for her offspring, to say the least. Ashíel’s loss had hit many of them quite hard, especially Nentai, who’d been using her scrying mirror to search for the missing woman night and day. Yet even her great ability with that talent had failed to locate the girl. The world below was simply too vast to locate one mortal among the countless millions.
Noxyl might not be facing only the Goddess of Justice; Uthalan knew that there would be others who’d join in Dreya’s outrage. If his Trickster daughter had done something to Ashíel, Uthalan wasn’t certain he would be able to restrain those who might seek vengeance on her. Yet as the All-Father hastened through the high arches of the polished marble hallways, he knew that there was another faction he’d also have to contend with: those who harbored a deepening resentment towards the newest member of their Pantheon.
Dreya’s rise in power had come at the expense of more than a few of his children; Noxyl and Raithe were only those who’d been most affected by her ascension. The peace she’d brought to Arrika had caused a great decline in their domains—a loss that had come with a corresponding decrease in both influence and worshippers.
The scene that Uthalan discovered when he finally arrived at the heart of the Pantheon’s retreat was all that he’d feared. As he rounded the corner, the chamber’s high columns and intricate carvings were bathed in a green light, illuminating the figures gathered there in its menacing glow. Across from him, Noxyl stood in the center of the glare, facing off against her far younger opponent. Yet Uthalan knew that seniority would not determine the outcome of any conflict between the two; Dreya was far more powerful than her relative youth might have implied.
“Where is she?”
The low growl of Dreya’s voice left no doubt that this wasn’t a mere question—it was a demand. One Noxyl could refuse only at her own peril.
“I can’t tell you that.”
Noxyl’s admission of her complicity all but assured Uthalan that his deepest concerns were about to be realized, and he rushed to intervene before Dreya could lash out.
“Noxyl,” the All-Father made his presence known, hoping to forestall the confrontation. “Release the girl, now.”
None of h
is children had ever been able to resist a direct command from him, save for Nentai. Yet even she’d done so on just a single occasion and only then when it had come to matters of Dreya, a woman she viewed as her own daughter. Expecting Noxyl to cave when he joined his own withering stare with Dreya’s, her response was not what the leader of the Pantheon expected.
“I cannot, Father,” she declined with all the proper decorum. “We made a bargain, the terms of which do not permit me to reveal her location.”
“Fuck your terms.” Dreya’s anger spewed forth as she loomed over Noxyl. “Give me back my daughter!”
“Noxyl,” Uthalan tried once more, uncharacteristically resorting to persuasion in light of the precarious circumstances. “This is too much, even for you. Return Ashíel to her mother.”
“That’s just it, Father,” Noxyl replied innocently. “I haven’t taken her away from Dreya. She… departed of her own free will; all I did was grant her request to escape.”
“Escape?” Dreya scoffed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Ashíel hates you, Dreya. You’re just too blind to see it.” Noxyl threw the accusation in her face with a coolness that belied the mounting tension. “All the lies you told her; the pain you inflicted—she’s been trying to get away from you for years.”
Second Skin: Wayward: A litRPG Adventure (Second Skin Book 7) Page 8