The two of them poured through documents, maps and notes, looking for anything of use to explain how Willem and his crew got so far south from the Pass. The work was long and tedious, and more than once Cameron found his eyes wandering to the crates of goods that lines the walls of the command post. Their work bore fruit however; A series of correspondences from the capital unraveled a scheme well planned.
Willem and his patron had communicated via the spell 'Merge', a rare magic that allowed the Mage to hijack any animal weak willed enough to resist the parasitism and control them remotely. A Teardrop Robin had been used for the job, the dark blue bird had notes tied to it's tiny feet while it flew under cover of night. The patron was a man by the name of Peter Karalsa, an expatriate noble, who had been quietly passed over for the head of the familiy position, then angrily defected to the neutral country of Heraldis to Tassalonia's south-eastern border. It seemed his nobility was recognised and reinstated there as a reward for the man's growing economic worth to the country, and the man wanted his ex-partner to join him, Peter having worked with him before Willem's downfall.
A prison break was impossible with external forces, given the harsh terrain and strong defenses of both sides of the Eastern Pass, so they planned to turn the criminals to their side, and use them as an expendable wave to obtain freedom for Willem. The plan was in motion for at least three years, finally enacted when tensions were high after a failed and bloody forced expedition to wipe up the nests of some particularly violent predators east of the fortifications. The criminals rebelled, and knocked down the gates and walls between them and freedom, fueled by illegal battledrugs and a thirst for freedom. They managed to rush and kill 60 of the elite legitimate soldiers, and Meridia herself was heavily wounded protecting the rest of her men and women.
The regulars only arrived two weeks later to support them given the distance from the next millitary post, and the force that arrived wasn't equipped for a chase. Willem rallied the remaining survivors and formed them into a raiding band, hitting villages and small towns on the way to the Cobarlian Forest. Their numbers dwindled from the hundreds to a mere 30, and Willem quickly realised he had to cut his losses, and find a way to cross the border undetected. They travelled deeper into the forest, and came across the remnants of a small shrine to some long forgotten deity, and encamped there for 2 months, gathering supplies and training the deserters to survive the stronger monsters that laid deeper in the forests.
"This was in the works for years. How didn't Meridia catch on? She's a marvelous general, and she has a good sense for the temperament of the soldiers under her." Dastilan talked to himself, head down at the desk knee deep in information. Cameron overheard him.
"Man on the inside? I mean, among the proper soldiers, not the criminals. Can't have been just Willem, surely?" Cameron was idly trying to internalise the information on a set of maps of the area.
Apparently up to date maps of whole countries was rare, given only to the highest tier of millitary personnel to prevent handing the enemy a list of their main roads and production centres. The ones in front of him were local to the Cobarlian forests, not very precise and drawn on with charcoal that traced a route to the south-east.
"There's nothing about a co-conspirator on these correspondences, and I've read all of them. This whole situation is telling me that there's something under the surface." Dastilan was concerned. Cameron responded, mouth full of a facsimile of normal Earth grapes and slowly recovering from the day's escapades.
"Not to be that guy, but why do you care? They're dead, they're not going to bother you anymore. Case closed." He finished by downing a tankard of ale, freshly poured from the deceased ringleader's stocks.
"That may be true, but what of the soldiers that assaulted my home? The moustached one seemed to know me personally. They were there because they assumed I had money hidden away, but why would they assume that if they thought I was a rancher?" The two of them fell into deep thought. Cameron shrugged, admitting his defeat. Dastilan continued going through the documents, tallying a list of the raiding band's movements and actions from the travelling period, but came to no conclusions.
"I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I'll go personally to the Pass myself, and see what I can find." Cameron raised an eyebrow.
"Would they just let you in? Do you still have any pull with the Courts?"
"Little, but Meridia would welcome me with open arms. She'd appreciate my company and advice... I hope." Cameron spotted the same look on Dastilan's face from earlier, a wistful, reminiscing 'love lost' expression lowering his brows and wetting his eyes.
"Were you two... lovers?" Dastilan sighed, placing the papers in his hands back onto the desk.
"We could have been, but we both loved our jobs. Hers took her to the edge of the country, and mine demanded my constant presence in the capital. I might still be enamoured with her, to be honest. Maybe she feels the same." Dastilan forlornly thought of his time with her. Some of the best days of his life.
"Are you an idiot, Dastilan? Why the hell did you settle out here if you could have been with her at the Pass!" Cameron put down his tankard, and angrily gesticulated his words with his hands.
"Really digging in, aren't you?" Dastilan gently smiled at Cameron. "I was scared of her answer, and scared of being the General's cripple husband. After my recovery, I felt like I had no place in the capital anymore, or amongst my colleagues. There's such a pressure there to perform, to be at the pinnacle of your craft amongst your peers. I didn't measure up any more. I hid here, instead."
Cameron held silent. He empathised with the Cervidian. He held himself to such a high standard as a young adult. He had no idea how to handle failiure, and hid himself away, too, when it all came crashing down.
"I can't argue with that. I'm the same, in a way." Cameron shrunk into his chair. The two shared a similar mindset, and found some comfort that they were not alone in their troubles.
"Still, wouldn't it be nice to see her? Even in a professional capacity?" Cameron consoled the man. Dastilan raised a weak smile.
"I believe it would. You never know, I suppose. Maybe she will leave that little footstool she calls a husband and get with a real man." Dastilan stood up and bared his teeth in a grin. Cameron snorted, then burst out into tears.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
"You dog! She's married?!"
----------------------------------------
"So, how exactly do we get this home?"
Cameron was staring at a large wooden carriage, noting the obvious problem that there were no horses to pull the cargo. They had gathered anything expensive or unique on board, leaving the heavy iron weaponry and burnable staves and bows. Cameron had set up a melting pit on the spot of the broken tents after clearing it off, and summoned enough Thermite to coat the weaponry and heat them enough to reduce them to a liquid consistency. They were of a poor quality, only useful if they were recycled into ingots. Besides, Dastilan was wary of the next band of bandits finding a stash of swords and axes in the forest and starting the whole kerfuflle off again.
The bodies of the deceased had been burnt in a swath of purifying flame that flowed directly from Dastilan's hand. The putrid smell of Anteian refuse polluted the area until the flames burnt it away at the source, leaving a subdued, but no less foul smell of burnt hair and organs to take over. Dastilan saved Willem's somewhat intact head, only to mutter a spell to delay the rot and plop it unceremoniously into a burlap sack. He would use it as proof of his story. Maybe Meridia would get some closure from it.
"We? No, I wil be taking this north by myself. All of these goods belong to people, whether they are alive or dead is for me to find out. You, my strange friend, will go to the nearest town, get a beer or two, and a proper bed to sleep in." Cameron was slowly struck with confusion, giving way to anxiety. He'd be alone again?
"What?! Just like that, you're leaving?" He loudly appealed to the man he'd come to see as a friend.
"Cameron, contrary to what you may believe, you're much more capable than half of the population when it comes to surviving alone out there. You're a one man army, but you need experience. Life experience, combat experience, everything you can learn."
"And I can't learn that with you to guide me? I can help!" Cameron retorted, panic in his tone that was plain to the both of them.
"This is a whole new world to you. You would be a fool to not get out there and see it. Find your place in it. If you stuck to me for the rest of your life, you would get nowhere. Maybe you'd end up in the capital, exploited as a master of death and war, or as a world-renowned mercenary, with nations begging at your feet for your powers. If you want that, then so be it, but for the sake of the Gods, man, make it YOUR decision. Do not make waves until you are ready to face all threats face to face, because they will be coming for you when they discover your capabilities."
Cameron fell into thought. He felt lost.
"What will I do? What SHOULD I do?" Cameron rode the whirlwind of action he had been stuck in since he got here. He was scared. Would a return to normalcy make him curl up in a ball again, ignoring the world like he had on Earth? Holed up in a shithole apartment, wasting away for fear of what could be? Dastilan gently reaffirmed his appeal. He knew Cameron could thrive, if he just gave himself a chance.
"Anything you can think of. You have no strings here, and hold a considerable arsenal at your beck and call. You're free. Whether you decide to rescue us all from this 'evil' and activate the beacons, or go your own way, I will support your decision, and hope I can see you once again someday, my friend."
Dastilan stepped down from the reins of the driverless coach, and materialised a large pouch from his upward outheld palms, that clattered and clinked.
"Your payment. Please, don't get conned by some sweet-talking receptionist somewhere. Take the dirt path left, and go north-west. It's all plains until you reach the lake. Cross the footbridge and go to Vinewall. Decent enough people. This compass should show you the way. Don't worry, it's not MagiTech."
Dastilan handed Cameron his money for the job, and the spinning compass. He embraced his friend for a short while, and pulled back with an earnest smile. Cameron shot back a weaker smile of his own, coming to terms that this would have always happened. They had different paths, and this was just a miraculous meeting of fate.
"I'm glad you were my first contact. Good luck, mate. Go get the girl." Cameron said his farewells to his antlered friend with a wink.
Dastilan pulled himself up to the coaches' elevated seat, and muttered under his breath, palms held outwards in a bright purple glow that ushered in a beautiful beast, with powerful legs and a curved, horned head. It was a cross between a stallion's body, and a Ram's head, that melded surprisingly naturally.
"Make a name, Cameron Walker. I want to see it spoken in the taverns, and in your enemies' nightmares!" With a smack on the rear, the etherial beast took off, bearing the carriages weight with no effort and talking off into the paths and roads leading to the Pass.
Cameron gathered himself. He exchanged his combat-ready uniform for a more subdued, plain brown set of clothing, the closest he could get to this world's casual ware with the limited combat-oriented options he had at his disposal. He contemplated summoning a rifle, but reconsidered, not wanting the extra weight, and reassured himself with the immediacy of it's appearance should he need it. He exhaled, making his way past the heavy open gate, walking down the overgrown path without looking back.
----------------------------------------
The trek of the outworlder was a cathartic experience for him. The chatter and cries of insects, birds, and small animals filled the forest, a chorus of nature filling Cameron's tired ears. I guess there's a reason people hike. The strong rubber of his boots absorbed his steps well, and the comfortable form-fitting clothing he had picked let his skin breathe and body move. He wondered what the town would look like. He'd seen a handful of species since his arrival, and wished to exchange some more peaceful interactions with them. They were essentially aliens to him. It stimulated the childlike curiousity within him. How do they think? What are their cultures like?
His absent minded postulation carried him through hours and hours of foot travel, leaving the lush forests behind for the wild plains, untamed and uncultivated. Large, strong oak looking species sparsely dotted the fields, the only trees still living having to be strong and rooted to survive the uninterrupted winds that flowed through the golden grasses.
Cameron took regular rests to drain his waterskin, and check his compass bearing, surveying the land with a hand shading his eyes and wiping his perspiration. The paths not often travelled funneled into larger and more noticable ones, like estuaries feeding into a river, and he found his steps easier and more stable.
it began to set in just how far he was from home. Another planet, somewhere in the universe, similar in some ways yet utterly foreign in others. Maybe an Earthling was chosen because their planet was so alike to Anteia. How many more were there, then? His thoughts wondered to and fro, from the implications of first contact, to the troubles he might face in the town. His chain of thought was interrupted when he heard the roar of water flowing to the front of him, obscured by bumps in the terrain and fauna that drunk from the source.
The path continued on along the river for some time, skirting the edge of the water leading Cameron to the footbridge Dastilan had mentioned; A ramshackle thing, nails sticking from their sockets and what ever wood dye that was on the floor well worn. Cameron decided to chance it. It stood upright this long, and the river wasn't overly deep or long. And he had his swimming certificate, after all. The footbridge turned out to be fairly stable, and upon crossing it and cresting the dirt mound on the other side, he spotted the town, across from more tamed fields, with scattered farms and ranches growing and harvesting their crop.
A mix of excitement and anxiety crossed his thoughts. Still, he came too far to go back now. The walk to the town's edge was more focused now, his target being in view, and he spared less time on observing the nature around him, and more looking at the workers in the fields. Men and women of all different races were scattered across the golden fields, and handpicked their bounties and placed them into weaved baskets and wooden wheelburrows. Horns, antlers, all shapes of ears and colours, the variation each person's appearance had was staggering. The country of Tassalonia seemed to be a melting pot of cultures.
Cameron's future looked somewhat brighter than he had anticipated.